thebulwark--2020-10-31--Voter Suppression and Civic Vice

Voter Suppression and Civic Vice

Though too many Americans can not define a republic , even while saluting “ the flag for which it stands , ” much continues to be written about Benjamin Franklin ’ s ominous warning when he was asked about the results of the Constitutional Convention : “ A republic .
.
.
if you can keep it.
” From republican Rome onward , republics throughout history have insisted on civic virtue as necessary for stability .
Unlike other forms of government , the republic demands certain things of its citizens : not only loyalty , but responsibility , bravery , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we settle for mere citizen engagement , a vague term with little rigor and less virtue .
In recent years we have experienced almost the antithesis of civic virtue .
In our democratic republic , voting is , if not the fundamental republican virtue , at least an indicator of virtue .
Yet we congratulate ourselves when 60 percent of eligible voters turn out .
Dark , anti-republican practices would drag down even our mediocre standard .
These practices are varied but all march under the flag of voter suppression .
And in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ being encouraged publicly from the highest platforms .
Strangely , one party has , at the very least , not encouraged high voter turnouts , believing apparently that it prospers when fewer citizens vote .
The best justification was that voting is properly understood as the culminating , rather than the initiating , step in public life for the citizen .
To be a voter , went the argument , one must first be a respected member of the community , educated on the issues of the day and properly instructed in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ never got around to explaining how one was supposed to know who was wise and who was foolish , who was erudite and who was ignorant at the ballot box .
All the phony veils have fallen now , and the practices of voter suppression are openly and blatantly mounted against minorities in big cities .
“ Poll watchers , ” credentialed but more often simply large men in dark clothing , stroll the long voter lines and , when unobserved , demand identification of minority voters .
This is illegal , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ machines in minority precincts mysteriously falter during early voting .
Insufficient ballots drop-off locations are provided for voters .
Requests for absentee ballots can languish for weeks .
Voters ’ signatures are rejected for the slightest difference from the original .
Chads have been known to hang .
And so it goes .
In modern times , chief executives have encouraged American citizens to vote as an obligation of their citizenship .
Not today .
The incumbent president has been talking about voter fraud since virtually the day he was elected .
Future @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has been repeatedly announced in a peculiar circular syllogism : I am supposed to be re-elected .
If I am not , then I am the victim of massive fraud .
Even a massive pandemic , with close to a quarter of a million Americans dead , is not considered a legitimate justification for mail-in balloting in some states .
An early commission to prove voter fraud foundered for complete lack of evidence , with no apologies from or embarrassment of its creators .
Rehearsal of the real fraud , systematic voter suppression @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ; it is notorious ; it is written off as “ that ’ s just who he is.
” Not so fast .
This erodes the foundations of the American republic whose flag we salute and for whom generations of Americans have died .
No nation is perfect .
But unique on the Earth , America invites the judgment of all mankind against the standards we set for ourselves .
Evidence abounds that America has lost prestige in recent years , not only for its increasing failure to live up to its own @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to try .
To put obstacles between eligible voters and the voting booth is not responsible .
It is not brave .
It is not honest .
It is not public-spirited .
It is civic vice .
The multitude of us who love this republic and have been honored to serve it will continue to try to “ keep it.
” History will judge the current administration on may counts .
But how it acted to keep this republic and encourage civic virtue , including voting , will be foremost among those counts @

Though too many Americans cannot define a republic, even while saluting “the flag for which it stands,” much continues to be written about Benjamin Franklin’s ominous warning when he was asked about the results of the Constitutional Convention: “A republic . . . if you can keep it.”
From republican Rome onward, republics throughout history have insisted on civic virtue as necessary for stability. Unlike other forms of government, the republic demands certain things of its citizens: not only loyalty, but responsibility, bravery, honesty, and public-spiritedness. Today, we settle for mere citizen engagement, a vague term with little rigor and less virtue.
In recent years we have experienced almost the antithesis of civic virtue. In our democratic republic, voting is, if not the fundamental republican virtue, at least an indicator of virtue. Yet we congratulate ourselves when 60 percent of eligible voters turn out.
Dark, anti-republican practices would drag down even our mediocre standard. These practices are varied but all march under the flag of voter suppression. And in the current national election, they are being encouraged publicly from the highest platforms.
Strangely, one party has, at the very least, not encouraged high voter turnouts, believing apparently that it prospers when fewer citizens vote. The best justification was that voting is properly understood as the culminating, rather than the initiating, step in public life for the citizen. To be a voter, went the argument, one must first be a respected member of the community, educated on the issues of the day and properly instructed in the American system of government.
This argument never got around to explaining how one was supposed to know who was wise and who was foolish, who was erudite and who was ignorant at the ballot box.
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
All the phony veils have fallen now, and the practices of voter suppression are openly and blatantly mounted against minorities in big cities. “Poll watchers,” credentialed but more often simply large men in dark clothing, stroll the long voter lines and, when unobserved, demand identification of minority voters. This is illegal, and when done systematically, unconstitutional.
Voting machines in minority precincts mysteriously falter during early voting. Insufficient ballots drop-off locations are provided for voters. Requests for absentee ballots can languish for weeks. Voters’ signatures are rejected for the slightest difference from the original. Chads have been known to hang. And so it goes.
In modern times, chief executives have encouraged American citizens to vote as an obligation of their citizenship. Not today. The incumbent president has been talking about voter fraud since virtually the day he was elected. Future Americans will ponder an election whose theme has been repeatedly announced in a peculiar circular syllogism: I am supposed to be re-elected. If I am not, then I am the victim of massive fraud.
Even a massive pandemic, with close to a quarter of a million Americans dead, is not considered a legitimate justification for mail-in balloting in some states. An early commission to prove voter fraud foundered for complete lack of evidence, with no apologies from or embarrassment of its creators.
Rehearsal of the real fraud, systematic voter suppression, is unnecessary. It is open; it is notorious; it is written off as “that’s just who he is.”
Not so fast. This erodes the foundations of the American republic whose flag we salute and for whom generations of Americans have died.
No nation is perfect. But unique on the Earth, America invites the judgment of all mankind against the standards we set for ourselves. Evidence abounds that America has lost prestige in recent years, not only for its increasing failure to live up to its own expectations, but for its apparent unwillingness to try.
To put obstacles between eligible voters and the voting booth is not responsible. It is not brave. It is not honest. It is not public-spirited. It is civic vice.
The multitude of us who love this republic and have been honored to serve it will continue to try to “keep it.” History will judge the current administration on may counts. But how it acted to keep this republic and encourage civic virtue, including voting, will be foremost among those counts.


thebulwark--2020-10-31--Getting Better at Getting Better

Getting Better at Getting Better

There ’ s a famous parable in medicine : two doctors are standing by a river , when they spot a drowning man .
One doctor immediately dives in and pulls the hapless swimmer out .
A second drowning swimmer soon appears , and the same physician quickly rescues her as well .
After observing this pattern continue for the rest of the afternoon , the ( still dry ) second doctor starts slowing walking upstream .
“ Where are you going ?
” the first doc asks , struggling to catch his breath .
“ I could sure use @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” the second doctor replies .
“ I ’ m gon na try to figure out who ’ s throwing all these people in.
” The story endures and resonates because it captures so well the dilemma confronting both individual doctors and the broader healthcare community , especially in the context of a health crisis such as COVID-19 .
Should we allocate our resources to the immediate needs of the moment , focusing on the delivery of care and how we can iteratively improve it ?
Or should we seek more transformational @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hunt for cures , the development of vaccines , the exploration of mechanistic science ?
At first blush , the answer seems obvious : it ’ s the vaccine , stupid .
We didn ’ t stop worrying about polio when someone made a better iron lung .
Effective vaccines truly offer the possibility of rapidly enabling large populations to safely acquire the herd immunity necessary to stop a virus from spreading , limiting the impact it can have , and enabling life to ( safely ) return to normal .
Some vaccines @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ve either eliminated ( the smallpox virus ) or nearly eliminated ( the polio virus and some others ) savage pathogens from the face of the earth .
Vaccination may also be working its way through the middle school canon : In 1938 , William Carlos Williams published his much-anthologized story , “ The Use of Force , ” about a doctor ’ s attempt to diagnose a young girl with diphtheria ; today , thanks to vaccination , there are only a handful of diphtheria cases reported in the United States every @ @ @ @ @ @ @ advent of vaccines , very few domestic species now meet the sorry fate of poor Old Yeller .
Vaccination is also , and understandably , the focus of Trump ’ s Operation Warp Speed .
That is arguably the administration ’ s best-conceived effort to combat the coronavirus , as I ’ ve discussed , and is led by an experienced industry scientist , former GSK R & D exec Moncef Slaoui , who is exquisitely matched to this specific challenge .
In contrast , the president ’ s continued efforts to undercut @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the trust so vital to the effective functioning of these agencies .
Rolling out a novel vaccine to a nation is inherently a monumental challenge , even with the involvement of highly touted military logistics expert such as OWS ’ s Chief Operating Officer , General Gustave F. Perna , Commander of the Army Materiel Command .
Without complete confidence in the quality and integrity of the FDA ’ s review of any administered vaccine , acceptance and adoption are likely to be hindered .
While an effective vaccine that ’ s widely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out , “ vaccines don ’ t save lives ; vaccination does ” ) would , indeed , be a transformative advance , it ’ s also not a sure thing .
Candidate medical products fail or disappoint all the time—far more often than not—and not every pathogen can be managed as effectively as smallpox and polio .
We require a new flu shot each year because the influenza virus itself changes each year , for example .
Our own immune systems respond differently to different vaccines ; in some cases , we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in other cases , our response rapidly peters out , and it ’ s hard to know in advance the category in which a potential COVID vaccine might fall .
As appealing as transformative approaches are , most of the progress in medicine , arguably , has resulted not from one or another brilliant discovery .
Rather , it tends to come via incremental innovation , through the efforts of what legendary surgeon-scientist Judah Folkman referred to as “ inquisitive physicians ” : curious , front-line doctors ( and other providers ) who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ noticed in a patient , and are driven to pursue .
Despite a tendency to view progress through the lens of transformative scientific discoveries and game-changing inventions , most measurable progress results from all the subsequent work : figuring out how to actually , meaningfully use a new discovery or emerging technology , and apply it gainfully .
The theme of “ learning by doing , ” as economist James Bessen has emphasized in a book of the same name , is seen in areas from the power loom to petroleum refinement to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In each case , the ultimate gains in productivity came not from an original , transformative discovery ( to the extent such an entity even exists ) , but rather through the sequential efforts of motivated , front-line workers consumed with trying to solve pressing , real-world problems and creatively looking to anything that will help .
MIT innovation researcher Eric von Hippel coined a term for this approach to generating progress : “ field discovery , ” a process centered not around scientists in a lab conceptualizing a novel product , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ solving day-to-day problems .
He demonstrated the importance of field discovery in a range of domains , including medicine : in 2006 , von Hippel showed that the majority of new uses for existing medicines were originally discovered by practicing clinicians .
Similar themes emerge from Matt Ridley ’ s engaging new book , How Innovation Works , as he takes us through a series of vignettes in areas from energy and transportation to food and public health , urging us to recognize the gradual , incremental nature of innovation .
We think @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , as a singular triumph of Thomas Edison , but Ridley urges us to reconsider : Ridley feels Edison “ deserves his reputation , ” but urges us to focus on the 99 % perspiration aspect of his famous adage , rather than the 1 % inspiration .
The value of pragmatic trial and error seems especially important ; Ridley notes Edison “ tested more than 6,000 plant materials in his bid to try to find the ideal material for making a carbon filament.
” Similarly , Ridley explains , key efforts in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ involved “ no single moment of breakthrough , ” according to one of the leading scientists involved , Fritz Haber .
Instead , there were “ just a number of small improvements and incremental advances.
” Grand discoveries take the headlines , but implementation , and dogged , trial-and-error , incrementalism , seem to be what actually accounts for most progress—and certainly is responsible for the realization of a discovery ’ s promise .
Which brings us back to COVID .
Since the outbreak began , it ’ s become apparent that the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be decreasing ; it ’ s still an extremely dangerous virus , especially in vulnerable people , but it seems to be picking off fewer of those it infects than was the case in the earliest days .
As the New York Times reports , many had assumed this reflected simply a difference in who was infected ; as we ’ ve gotten better at protecting our oldest patients , more of the infections are in younger people who are intrinsically more resilient .
Perhaps this accounts for the declining fatality rate .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ New York physician-scientist Leora Horwitz suggests this explanation may not be correct—or , at least , is incomplete .
Horwitz and her team examined 5,121 patients hospitalized for COVID-19 at NYU-Langone ’ s 3-hospital academic health system from March through August of this year , during which time the mortality rate dropped significantly , consistent with national figures .
The CDC , for instance , reported in April that 6.7 % of cases resulted in death , compared with 1.9 % in September .
Yet , nationally , the average age of those @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 46 years of age at the start of May to 38 by the end of August .
To figure out whether the reduced mortality in their hospital center was due to characteristics of those afflicted , the authors statistically adjusted for age , sex , and a range of pre-existing conditions .
After all this , they again looked at the mortality rate and found that even there was still a profound decrease in the mortality rate after the statistical adjustment , from 25.6 % in March ( among hospitalized patients ) to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ decline .
The authors note similar results were recently reported from a study of ICU patients in the U.K. ; the data showed “ mortality was significantly and progressively lower over the course of the study period.
” Horwitz and her co-authors can only speculate why they saw “ incremental improvements in outcomes.
” She posits a range of possible factors , from “ increasing clinical experience ” to tweaks in the approach to treatment to the possibility of “ lower viral load exposure from increased mask wearing and social distancing.
” Even @ @ @ @ @ @ @ these results are encouraging , and highlight the role and ( often underappreciated ) value of incremental innovation , small improvements driven by inquisitive physicians and other front-line providers , that are likely responsible for much of the progress we ’ ve seen to date .
By all means , we should continue to press for vaccines , cures , and transformational treatments .
But let us also remember the critical role of incremental improvements—and ensure we are doing what we can to develop both the technological and cultural infrastructure required to support @ @ @ @ @ @ @ unheralded work .

There’s a famous parable in medicine: two doctors are standing by a river, when they spot a drowning man. One doctor immediately dives in and pulls the hapless swimmer out. A second drowning swimmer soon appears, and the same physician quickly rescues her as well. After observing this pattern continue for the rest of the afternoon, the (still dry) second doctor starts slowing walking upstream.
“Where are you going?” the first doc asks, struggling to catch his breath. “I could sure use your help here.”
“I know,” the second doctor replies. “I’m gonna try to figure out who’s throwing all these people in.”
The story endures and resonates because it captures so well the dilemma confronting both individual doctors and the broader healthcare community, especially in the context of a health crisis such as COVID-19. Should we allocate our resources to the immediate needs of the moment, focusing on the delivery of care and how we can iteratively improve it? Or should we seek more transformational change and turn our attention to the hunt for cures, the development of vaccines, the exploration of mechanistic science?
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
At first blush, the answer seems obvious: it’s the vaccine, stupid. We didn’t stop worrying about polio when someone made a better iron lung. Effective vaccines truly offer the possibility of rapidly enabling large populations to safely acquire the herd immunity necessary to stop a virus from spreading, limiting the impact it can have, and enabling life to (safely) return to normal. Some vaccines have proved so effective that they’ve either eliminated (the smallpox virus) or nearly eliminated (the polio virus and some others) savage pathogens from the face of the earth.
Vaccination may also be working its way through the middle school canon: In 1938, William Carlos Williams published his much-anthologized story, “The Use of Force,” about a doctor’s attempt to diagnose a young girl with diphtheria; today, thanks to vaccination, there are only a handful of diphtheria cases reported in the United States every few years. Similarly, with the advent of vaccines, very few domestic species now meet the sorry fate of poor Old Yeller.
Vaccination is also, and understandably, the focus of Trump’s Operation Warp Speed. That is arguably the administration’s best-conceived effort to combat the coronavirus, as I’ve discussed, and is led by an experienced industry scientist, former GSK R&D exec Moncef Slaoui, who is exquisitely matched to this specific challenge.
In contrast, the president’s continued efforts to undercut the FDA and CDC threatens to erode the trust so vital to the effective functioning of these agencies. Rolling out a novel vaccine to a nation is inherently a monumental challenge, even with the involvement of highly touted military logistics expert such as OWS’s Chief Operating Officer, General Gustave F. Perna, Commander of the Army Materiel Command. Without complete confidence in the quality and integrity of the FDA’s review of any administered vaccine, acceptance and adoption are likely to be hindered.
While an effective vaccine that’s widely adopted (vaccinologists are fond of pointing out, “vaccines don’t save lives; vaccination does”) would, indeed, be a transformative advance, it’s also not a sure thing. Candidate medical products fail or disappoint all the time—far more often than not—and not every pathogen can be managed as effectively as smallpox and polio. We require a new flu shot each year because the influenza virus itself changes each year, for example. Our own immune systems respond differently to different vaccines; in some cases, we seem to develop long-lasting immunity, but in other cases, our response rapidly peters out, and it’s hard to know in advance the category in which a potential COVID vaccine might fall.
As appealing as transformative approaches are, most of the progress in medicine, arguably, has resulted not from one or another brilliant discovery. Rather, it tends to come via incremental innovation, through the efforts of what legendary surgeon-scientist Judah Folkman referred to as “inquisitive physicians”: curious, front-line doctors (and other providers) who are intrigued by something they’ve noticed in a patient, and are driven to pursue.
Despite a tendency to view progress through the lens of transformative scientific discoveries and game-changing inventions, most measurable progress results from all the subsequent work: figuring out how to actually, meaningfully use a new discovery or emerging technology, and apply it gainfully.
The theme of “learning by doing,” as economist James Bessen has emphasized in a book of the same name, is seen in areas from the power loom to petroleum refinement to the generation of energy from coal. In each case, the ultimate gains in productivity came not from an original, transformative discovery (to the extent such an entity even exists), but rather through the sequential efforts of motivated, front-line workers consumed with trying to solve pressing, real-world problems and creatively looking to anything that will help.
MIT innovation researcher Eric von Hippel coined a term for this approach to generating progress: “field discovery,” a process centered not around scientists in a lab conceptualizing a novel product, but rather the end-users who are focused on solving day-to-day problems. He demonstrated the importance of field discovery in a range of domains, including medicine: in 2006, von Hippel showed that the majority of new uses for existing medicines were originally discovered by practicing clinicians.
Similar themes emerge from Matt Ridley’s engaging new book, How Innovation Works, as he takes us through a series of vignettes in areas from energy and transportation to food and public health, urging us to recognize the gradual, incremental nature of innovation. We think of the light bulb, for example, as a singular triumph of Thomas Edison, but Ridley urges us to reconsider:
The truth is that the story of the light bulb, far from illustrating the importance of the heroic inventor, turns out to tell the opposite story: of innovation as a gradual, incremental, collective yet inescapably inevitable process. The light bulb emerged inexorably from the combined technologies of the day. It was bound to appear when it did, given the progress of other technologies.
Ridley feels Edison “deserves his reputation,” but urges us to focus on the 99% perspiration aspect of his famous adage, rather than the 1% inspiration. The value of pragmatic trial and error seems especially important; Ridley notes Edison “tested more than 6,000 plant materials in his bid to try to find the ideal material for making a carbon filament.”
Similarly, Ridley explains, key efforts in the early twentieth century to develop fertilizer involved “no single moment of breakthrough,” according to one of the leading scientists involved, Fritz Haber. Instead, there were “just a number of small improvements and incremental advances.”
Grand discoveries take the headlines, but implementation, and dogged, trial-and-error, incrementalism, seem to be what actually accounts for most progress—and certainly is responsible for the realization of a discovery’s promise.
Which brings us back to COVID.
Since the outbreak began, it’s become apparent that the fatality rate from the virus seems to be decreasing; it’s still an extremely dangerous virus, especially in vulnerable people, but it seems to be picking off fewer of those it infects than was the case in the earliest days.
As the New York Times reports, many had assumed this reflected simply a difference in who was infected; as we’ve gotten better at protecting our oldest patients, more of the infections are in younger people who are intrinsically more resilient. Perhaps this accounts for the declining fatality rate.
Yet a fascinating new research publication by New York physician-scientist Leora Horwitz suggests this explanation may not be correct—or, at least, is incomplete.
Horwitz and her team examined 5,121 patients hospitalized for COVID-19 at NYU-Langone’s 3-hospital academic health system from March through August of this year, during which time the mortality rate dropped significantly, consistent with national figures. The CDC, for instance, reported in April that 6.7% of cases resulted in death, compared with 1.9% in September. Yet, nationally, the average age of those afflicted had also demonstrably decreased, from 46 years of age at the start of May to 38 by the end of August.
To figure out whether the reduced mortality in their hospital center was due to characteristics of those afflicted, the authors statistically adjusted for age, sex, and a range of pre-existing conditions. After all this, they again looked at the mortality rate and found that even there was still a profound decrease in the mortality rate after the statistical adjustment, from 25.6% in March (among hospitalized patients) to 7.6% in August—a huge and encouraging decline. The authors note similar results were recently reported from a study of ICU patients in the U.K.; the data showed “mortality was significantly and progressively lower over the course of the study period.”
Horwitz and her co-authors can only speculate why they saw “incremental improvements in outcomes.” She posits a range of possible factors, from “increasing clinical experience” to tweaks in the approach to treatment to the possibility of “lower viral load exposure from increased mask wearing and social distancing.”
Even without the ability to attribute causation, these results are encouraging, and highlight the role and (often underappreciated) value of incremental innovation, small improvements driven by inquisitive physicians and other front-line providers, that are likely responsible for much of the progress we’ve seen to date.
By all means, we should continue to press for vaccines, cures, and transformational treatments. But let us also remember the critical role of incremental improvements—and ensure we are doing what we can to develop both the technological and cultural infrastructure required to support and advance this critically important, chronically unheralded work.


thebulwark--2020-10-31--The Trouble with the ‘It’s Not Real Fascism’ Argument

In recent weeks , the president of the United States has refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power , has repeatedly claimed that the election outcome will be illegitimate because of massive voter fraud , and has encouraged his supporters to “ go into the polls and watch very carefully.
” By a wide margin , most voters expect there will be intimidation at the polls—and indeed , it is already happening .
Given everything that President Trump has done in office to undermine norms , it seems irresponsible not to game out how he might try to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ weaknesses in the event of an uncertain outcome , or a losing one for him .
Over the course of the last four years , after all , our institutions have been under a daily stress test , and they have not all held strong .
The attorney general has repeatedly undermined the integrity of the Department of Justice .
Congressional subpoenas have gone ignored .
Whether or not Trump wins re-election , the country will be reckoning with the fallout from Trumpism for years to come .
Yet some writers insist in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ real alarm .
From Ross Douthat in the New York Times , to the Atlantic ’ s Shadi Hamid , to Walter Shapiro writing for the New Republic , the message is pretty simple .
Tut-tut , there-there , trust us : Trump is too incompetent to overturn the election or put democracy in peril , the institutions have held up , and much of the hysteria of recent years has been overblown .
If the president had really wanted to , he could have used the pandemic to seize power .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , “ no Trump coup.
” This is a soothing message for an exhausted national psyche , and I certainly hope that they are right about what ’ s in store for us in the days ahead .
But their confident insistence that the worst has passed suggests that even these very thoughtful people have failed to internalize the dangers inherent to Trumpism .
It also amounts to an implicit denial of the work that has gone into attempting to defeat Trump .
The debate about a potential Trump coup maps loosely onto @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : the question of how to classify Trump and his administration .
Judging by their actions and their aspirations , do these people count as authoritarians , wannabe tyrants , fascists , quasi-fascists , proto-fascists , or what ?
Here—as with discussions surrounding racism—a lot depends on how we understand the terms at hand , but the basic question is the same : How dangerous is Trump to American democracy ?
You can read all about it in nuanced pieces by scholars like Samuel Moyn and Sarah Churchwell in the New York Review @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the idea that Trump poses an existential threat to American liberal democracy .
As he put it in his recent no-coup column , “ Our weak , ranting , infected-by-Covid chief executive is not plotting a coup , because a term like ‘ plotting ’ implies capabilities that he conspicuously lacks.
” Douthat has been making some version of this argument since at least December 2015 , when he wrote a column entitled “ Is Donald Trump a Fascist ?
” and made a plausible case for “ no.
” The problem is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and Douthat ’ s basic position has not .
In the 2015 piece , Douthat argued that Trump should not be deemed a fascist , for three reasons .
First off , Trump just wasn ’ t very serious : Second , Douthat argued , Trump was too unhinged to appeal to the GOP : “ It ’ s still quite likely that the Republican Party is inoculated against him.
” ( Douthat cites conservative religious commitments and libertarianism as bulwarks against Trump . )
Finally , a national freakout over “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be a distraction from the root causes of widespread civic disaffection .
I bring up this old column not to dunk on Douthat , who is very thoughtful , but because it is important to keep in mind just how astonishing the events of the last four years have been .
Almost all the things that Douthat mused in 2015 would be tell-tale signs of fascism have come to be .
Trump has rallied a movement of far-right intellectuals .
He has mobilized paramilitary forces to take to the streets .
And , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ primary .
I don ’ t blame Douthat for not anticipating the speed and depth of the GOP ’ s submission .
But submit they did .
And today , the GOP is a hollow cult of personality beholden to Trump .
The party literally has no other platform .
All of this was and should remain alarming regardless of the election outcome .
Indeed , my greatest worry is that the message of Douthat and the other quietists prefigures a post-election denialism on the part of conservatives that will paper over not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( which Douthat can articulate ) , but also the serious problems that Trumpism conceals .
It is fair to warn , as Douthat and Moyn both have , that loaded language and alarmism can lead to serial distraction and evasion of real problems .
But minimizing the threat can create confusion , too .
Walter Shapiro writes that “ if the polls hold up on election night , Democrats can say with confidence and joy , ‘ Our long national nightmare is over.
’ ” This strikes me as awfully blithe .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ everything troubling that flowed from Trump—simply going to disappear if Biden wins ?
Will QAnon just fade away ?
Douthat concludes his recent column with a classic both-sides warning about dangers coming from the illiberal left ( “ a zealous progressive vanguard and a monopoly in the commanding heights of culture ” ) , and concludes that for liberals not to “ seed another backlash ” they will need “ both vision and restraint.
” It strikes me as odd when conservatives speak like this given that Joe Biden is the Democratic nominee @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is legislative restraint on the part of Biden Democrats going to do anything to heal the country ’ s deep discontent ?
Won ’ t anyone be expected to deal with the country ’ s actual woes ?
Minimizations of the threat posed by Trumpism , and exaggerations of the leftist threat , also discount all the hard work and solidarity that have gone into fighting Trump .
The idea that Trump is not a fascist ( or is too incompetent to become one ) implies a counterfactual world in which he did @ @ @ @ @ @ @ regular Americans across the political spectrum , time and time again .
Trump ’ s failures—and , again , his defeat is not yet accomplished—have not simply been a matter of splendid-incompetence-meets-sound-institutions .
They have also been a result of unprecedented mass activism on the part of ordinary liberals and progressives , as well as independents and Never Trump conservatives .
From the women ’ s marches to ACA phone-banking to outrage over the child separation policy , Trump ’ s worst excesses have often been kept in check by the country ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ failures , and certainly with very little help from the spineless GOP .
But still these writers can not resist poking a bit of fun at the left ’ s excesses .
Douthat writes dismissively in his recent column of how “ many liberals have spent the last four years persuading themselves that their position might soon be as beleaguered as the opposition under Putin , or German liberals late in Weimar.
” Walter Shapiro speaks of Democrats ’ “ dystopianism ” and their “ phantasmagoria of fears.
” And Shadi Hamid quips @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” that “ told Americans to prepare for incoming dictatorship and permitted rich suburbanites to fantasize being French resistance fighters in World War II without any of the danger.
” It ’ s easy enough to get caught up in this kind of mockery .
But reading up on fascism and autocracy while engaging in political activism isn ’ t as silly as these writers make it sound .
Such comments strike me as especially out-of-tune in light of how much activism since 2016 has been powered by American women .
Douthat is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about to intrude on us .
Soon we will have a better sense of what is in store for our democracy .
But regardless of the election outcome , Trump is a symptom of much deeper civic ills—problems that aren ’ t about to just disappear , and that could be the precursor to something worse .
As Jonathan Chait writes in his response to Douthat , Trump may be more feckless than autocratic , but he has the full support of a major party .
No one should be sweeping all that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ real fascism ” rug .
Furthermore , the fact that millions of Americans have fought this administration is a valuable sign of civic strength , and it should be recognized as such .
If Trump is defeated in November it will be thanks in no small part to progressives who were willing to compromise , to “ liberal hysteria , ” to Black Lives Matter organizers , and to the so-called Resistance .
The people involved in those efforts deserve gratitude and respect , not dismissive call-outs and belittling Tweets .
Reality is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ true , but political realities don ’ t just happen on their own .
They are the products of action and inaction , of choice and ineptitude , of chance and of vigilance and of freedom .
If the Trump era has meant anything , it ’ s that nothing in politics should be taken for granted anytime soon .

In recent weeks, the president of the United States has refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power, has repeatedly claimed that the election outcome will be illegitimate because of massive voter fraud, and has encouraged his supporters to “go into the polls and watch very carefully.” By a wide margin, most voters expect there will be intimidation at the polls—and indeed, it is already happening. Given everything that President Trump has done in office to undermine norms, it seems irresponsible not to game out how he might try to take advantage of the system’s weaknesses in the event of an uncertain outcome, or a losing one for him. Over the course of the last four years, after all, our institutions have been under a daily stress test, and they have not all held strong. The attorney general has repeatedly undermined the integrity of the Department of Justice. Congressional subpoenas have gone ignored. Whether or not Trump wins re-election, the country will be reckoning with the fallout from Trumpism for years to come.
Yet some writers insist in arguing that there is no cause for real alarm. From Ross Douthat in the New York Times, to the Atlantic’s Shadi Hamid, to Walter Shapiro writing for the New Republic, the message is pretty simple. Tut-tut, there-there, trust us: Trump is too incompetent to overturn the election or put democracy in peril, the institutions have held up, and much of the hysteria of recent years has been overblown. If the president had really wanted to, he could have used the pandemic to seize power. “There will be,” Douthat writes, “no Trump coup.”
This is a soothing message for an exhausted national psyche, and I certainly hope that they are right about what’s in store for us in the days ahead. But their confident insistence that the worst has passed suggests that even these very thoughtful people have failed to internalize the dangers inherent to Trumpism. It also amounts to an implicit denial of the work that has gone into attempting to defeat Trump.
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
The debate about a potential Trump coup maps loosely onto another public conversation of the Trump era: the question of how to classify Trump and his administration. Judging by their actions and their aspirations, do these people count as authoritarians, wannabe tyrants, fascists, quasi-fascists, proto-fascists, or what? Here—as with discussions surrounding racism—a lot depends on how we understand the terms at hand, but the basic question is the same: How dangerous is Trump to American democracy? You can read all about it in nuanced pieces by scholars like Samuel Moyn and Sarah Churchwell in the New York Review of Books.
Douthat has consistently challenged the idea that Trump poses an existential threat to American liberal democracy. As he put it in his recent no-coup column, “Our weak, ranting, infected-by-Covid chief executive is not plotting a coup, because a term like ‘plotting’ implies capabilities that he conspicuously lacks.” Douthat has been making some version of this argument since at least December 2015, when he wrote a column entitled “Is Donald Trump a Fascist?” and made a plausible case for “no.” The problem is that circumstances have dramatically changed since then, and Douthat’s basic position has not.
In the 2015 piece, Douthat argued that Trump should not be deemed a fascist, for three reasons. First off, Trump just wasn’t very serious:
He isn’t actually building a fascist mass movement (he hasn’t won a primary yet!) or rallying a movement of far-right intellectuals (Ann Coulter notwithstanding). His suggestion that a Black Lives Matter protester at one of his rallies might have deserved to be roughed up was pretty ugly, but still several degrees of ugly away from the actual fascist move, which would require organizing a paramilitary force to take to the streets to brawl with the decadent supporters of our rotten legislative government.
Second, Douthat argued, Trump was too unhinged to appeal to the GOP: “It’s still quite likely that the Republican Party is inoculated against him.” (Douthat cites conservative religious commitments and libertarianism as bulwarks against Trump.) Finally, a national freakout over “Trump-the-fascist” would, Douthat argued, be a distraction from the root causes of widespread civic disaffection.
I bring up this old column not to dunk on Douthat, who is very thoughtful, but because it is important to keep in mind just how astonishing the events of the last four years have been. Almost all the things that Douthat mused in 2015 would be tell-tale signs of fascism have come to be. Trump has rallied a movement of far-right intellectuals. He has mobilized paramilitary forces to take to the streets. And, of course, Trump did win the primary. I don’t blame Douthat for not anticipating the speed and depth of the GOP’s submission. But submit they did. And today, the GOP is a hollow cult of personality beholden to Trump. The party literally has no other platform.
All of this was and should remain alarming regardless of the election outcome. Indeed, my greatest worry is that the message of Douthat and the other quietists prefigures a post-election denialism on the part of conservatives that will paper over not only the worst threats posed by Trump (which Douthat can articulate), but also the serious problems that Trumpism conceals.
It is fair to warn, as Douthat and Moyn both have, that loaded language and alarmism can lead to serial distraction and evasion of real problems. But minimizing the threat can create confusion, too. Walter Shapiro writes that “if the polls hold up on election night, Democrats can say with confidence and joy, ‘Our long national nightmare is over.’” This strikes me as awfully blithe. Is everything troubling that brought us Trump—and everything troubling that flowed from Trump—simply going to disappear if Biden wins? Will QAnon just fade away? Douthat concludes his recent column with a classic both-sides warning about dangers coming from the illiberal left (“a zealous progressive vanguard and a monopoly in the commanding heights of culture”), and concludes that for liberals not to “seed another backlash” they will need “both vision and restraint.” It strikes me as odd when conservatives speak like this given that Joe Biden is the Democratic nominee, but setting that aside: How is legislative restraint on the part of Biden Democrats going to do anything to heal the country’s deep discontent? Won’t anyone be expected to deal with the country’s actual woes?
Minimizations of the threat posed by Trumpism, and exaggerations of the leftist threat, also discount all the hard work and solidarity that have gone into fighting Trump. The idea that Trump is not a fascist (or is too incompetent to become one) implies a counterfactual world in which he did not come up against serious pushback from regular Americans across the political spectrum, time and time again. Trump’s failures—and, again, his defeat is not yet accomplished—have not simply been a matter of splendid-incompetence-meets-sound-institutions. They have also been a result of unprecedented mass activism on the part of ordinary liberals and progressives, as well as independents and Never Trump conservatives. From the women’s marches to ACA phone-banking to outrage over the child separation policy, Trump’s worst excesses have often been kept in check by the country’s citizens—often in the face of institutional failures, and certainly with very little help from the spineless GOP.
But still these writers cannot resist poking a bit of fun at the left’s excesses. Douthat writes dismissively in his recent column of how “many liberals have spent the last four years persuading themselves that their position might soon be as beleaguered as the opposition under Putin, or German liberals late in Weimar.” Walter Shapiro speaks of Democrats’ “dystopianism” and their “phantasmagoria of fears.” And Shadi Hamid quips about the entire “grift of books” that “told Americans to prepare for incoming dictatorship and permitted rich suburbanites to fantasize being French resistance fighters in World War II without any of the danger.” It’s easy enough to get caught up in this kind of mockery. But reading up on fascism and autocracy while engaging in political activism isn’t as silly as these writers make it sound. Such comments strike me as especially out-of-tune in light of how much activism since 2016 has been powered by American women.
Douthat is right when he says that reality is about to intrude on us. Soon we will have a better sense of what is in store for our democracy. But regardless of the election outcome, Trump is a symptom of much deeper civic ills—problems that aren’t about to just disappear, and that could be the precursor to something worse. As Jonathan Chait writes in his response to Douthat, Trump may be more feckless than autocratic, but he has the full support of a major party. No one should be sweeping all that under the “it wasn’t real fascism” rug.
Furthermore, the fact that millions of Americans have fought this administration is a valuable sign of civic strength, and it should be recognized as such. If Trump is defeated in November it will be thanks in no small part to progressives who were willing to compromise, to “liberal hysteria,” to Black Lives Matter organizers, and to the so-called Resistance. The people involved in those efforts deserve gratitude and respect, not dismissive call-outs and belittling Tweets.
Reality is about to intrude, it’s true, but political realities don’t just happen on their own. They are the products of action and inaction, of choice and ineptitude, of chance and of vigilance and of freedom. If the Trump era has meant anything, it’s that nothing in politics should be taken for granted anytime soon.


thebulwark--2020-11-01--Classical Music Isn’t Elitist

Classical Music Isn’t Elitist

This year has brought a lot of firsts for all of us , but one first I never expected was an all-out attack on Beethoven and his Symphony No .
5 , perhaps the most beloved and popular symphonic work of all time .
Beyond the specific issues relating to Beethoven , the claims of “ elitism ” in classical music bother me , partly because it seems odd to be accusing our musical institutions of elitism as they are shuttered and on the brink of collapse , and partly because the claims of elitism simply aren ’ t true @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” write Nate Sloan and Charlie Harding in Vox , audiences have interpreted the Fifth , with the progression from its ominous opening to the decisive major-key conclusion of its fourth movement , “ as a metaphor for Beethoven ’ s personal resilience in the face of his oncoming deafness , ” but “ for some in other groups—women , LGBTQ+ people , people of color—Beethoven ’ s symphony may be predominantly a reminder of classical music ’ s history of exclusion and elitism.
” But there doesn ’ t seem to be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ States that has a dress code for its audience—at least none revealed by some googling .
Besides , the mere existence of behavioral norms isn ’ t an indication of exclusivity or elitism—after all , isn ’ t it normal to minimize cheering and coughing during movies , too ?
Another article , published last weekend in Slate , finds an even sillier sort of evidence for elitism in classical music .
According to author Chris White , an assistant professor at UMass Amherst , by referring to certain composers by last name @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ) while referring to lesser-known composers by first and last name ( Florence Price , Clara Schumann , Amy Beach ) , “ music history has created a hierarchical system that , whether or not you find it useful , can now only be seen as outdated and harmful .
.
.
[ and ] by using everyone ’ s full names , we can focus more on their music rather than on the past cultural practices that elevated straight white men at the expense of everyone else.
” So , following White @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , by referring repeatedly to Beethoven and not even once to Ludwig van Beethoven , are continuing the “ unsavory practice of reserving the mononymic surname.
” Shame on them , I guess .
But of course that ’ s just something we do for people who are extremely famous .
I don ’ t need to say Abraham Lincoln or Rafael Nadal Parera or Cherilyn Sarkisian or Kanye Omari West .
It ’ s enough to say Lincoln or Nadal or Cher or Kanye .
God forbid I have to write out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I want to mention Mozart .
White ’ s “ fullnaming ” idea—an invented word for his invented crusade—seems to belong more in a social studies department at a middle school than a music department at a university .
Johann Sebastian Bach versus Bach .
We get the point .
Doesn ’ t insisting on full names for everyone seem a little pretentious , annoying , tedious , and dare I say .
.
.
elitist ?
I do a lot of talking on behalf of music itself , partially because the field @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and colleges have all but given up on even the pretense of care and love for composers like Bach , Beethoven , and Brahms—the very musicians who , by the beauty and power of their creations , draw kids to music in the first place and continue to move audiences the world over .
I also think it ’ s important to emphasize the universality of this music to puncture the myths about classical music being “ elite ” or , even stranger , “ for the elite.
” These myths , I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not by curious , less-than-knowledgeable members of the public , but by snide warriors of the politically correct masquerading as hypereducated cognoscenti who possess so much knowledge that they gleefully look to not just restrict our musical diet but to impose theirs on us .
Writers like Sloan and Harding might think of themselves as anti-elite and opposed to “ gatekeeping , ” but in fact they are erecting new gates themselves—as they warn the public of the sinister , narratives of class and race that supposedly run through classical music .
I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my entire life ) to see the power that great music has over people who have no experience with it .
Take kids : They know nothing of it , have no background , but fall in love with the sheer sound , and often beg their parents to let them play an instrument .
This is what happened to me when I heard the cello for the first time at age three , and it has been my life ’ s companion .
And the spark of music can work on adults @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than my fair share of dragging into the concert hall people who would never ordinarily go , and watching as their lives are changed with one magical experience .
I remember summer 2012 in rural Virginia where I served as first cellist for the great , late maestro Lorin Maazel at his Castleton Festival .
I had become friends with a local carpenter in his sixties over coffee at the general store .
He was afraid to come to a performance of Carmen since he knew nothing about music and felt he wouldn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I persuaded him to come : I told him that if he didn ’ t like it , the worst that could happen was that he would have wasted an evening .
Far beyond “ liking ” it , he was reduced to tears .
A new passion was born that day for him , and for the next few seasons he came to every single opera , chamber music , and symphony concert until his death this past spring .
He always told me how much richer his life was with music @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with him from an earlier age .
Whenever I think of our capacity to love music—even on first hearing—I also remember the time when I was in Qatar a few years ago rehearsing the overture to Wagner ’ s Tannhaüser .
The orchestra had put a clip of the rehearsal online , and I was watching it that evening when a Filipino hotel worker came to offer turndown service .
He didn ’ t speak English well , but we got into conversation .
I pointed at the iPad I was using to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the part of the overture where the brasses are playing a huge , noble soaring theme , and the violins are almost fighting back , like an uprising against the brasses—a thrilling , unforgettable passage .
The worker told me he ’ d never had the chance to hear any classical music in his life , yet found himself in tears by the end of the passage .
I don ’ t know if he ever heard a single note of classical music since our meeting .
But where the power of music @ @ @ @ @ @ @ speaks for itself .
These are not isolated anecdotes .
Great music has the power to captivate anyone who hears it .
You don ’ t need an education or a yacht to qualify as someone who can appreciate it .
That might be a hard fact to swallow for ultra-woke , anti-culture crusaders .
These joyless ideologues pretend to have the authority to tell millions of unsuspecting listeners , who simply love music for what it is , that no , you are all so poorly educated , how could you so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Beethoven , and to call him just “ Beethoven.
” Now there ’ s some elitism !
For the audience , music is the most democratic of the arts .
It isn ’ t elitist and hasn ’ t been for decades—thanks to radio and recordings , and especially during this year in which live music barely even exists and everything is being done from our homes and smartphones .
What is elitist is pseudo-intellectual glitterati preaching a manufactured moral and political agenda .
The idea that classical music is elitist is fake @ @ @ @ @ @ @ go listen to Beethoven ’ s Fifth .

This year has brought a lot of firsts for all of us, but one first I never expected was an all-out attack on Beethoven and his Symphony No. 5, perhaps the most beloved and popular symphonic work of all time. Beyond the specific issues relating to Beethoven, the claims of “elitism” in classical music bother me, partly because it seems odd to be accusing our musical institutions of elitism as they are shuttered and on the brink of collapse, and partly because the claims of elitism simply aren’t true.
“Since its 1808 premiere,” write Nate Sloan and Charlie Harding in Vox, audiences have interpreted the Fifth, with the progression from its ominous opening to the decisive major-key conclusion of its fourth movement, “as a metaphor for Beethoven’s personal resilience in the face of his oncoming deafness,” but “for some in other groups—women, LGBTQ+ people, people of color—Beethoven’s symphony may be predominantly a reminder of classical music’s history of exclusion and elitism.”
They continue:
Today, some aspects of classical culture are still about policing who’s in and who’s out. When you walk into a standard concert hall, there’s an established set of conventions and etiquette (“don’t cough!”; “don’t cheer!”; “dress appropriately!”) that can feel as much about demonstrating belonging as appreciating the music.
But there doesn’t seem to be a single full-time orchestra in the United States that has a dress code for its audience—at least none revealed by some googling. Besides, the mere existence of behavioral norms isn’t an indication of exclusivity or elitism—after all, isn’t it normal to minimize cheering and coughing during movies, too?
Another article, published last weekend in Slate, finds an even sillier sort of evidence for elitism in classical music. According to author Chris White, an assistant professor at UMass Amherst, by referring to certain composers by last name only (Beethoven, Mozart, Bach) while referring to lesser-known composers by first and last name (Florence Price, Clara Schumann, Amy Beach), “music history has created a hierarchical system that, whether or not you find it useful, can now only be seen as outdated and harmful . . . [and] by using everyone’s full names, we can focus more on their music rather than on the past cultural practices that elevated straight white men at the expense of everyone else.”
So, following White’s reasoning, the Vox authors, by referring repeatedly to Beethoven and not even once to Ludwig van Beethoven, are continuing the “unsavory practice of reserving the mononymic surname.” Shame on them, I guess.
But of course that’s just something we do for people who are extremely famous. I don’t need to say Abraham Lincoln or Rafael Nadal Parera or Cherilyn Sarkisian or Kanye Omari West. It’s enough to say Lincoln or Nadal or Cher or Kanye. God forbid I have to write out Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart every time I want to mention Mozart.
White’s “fullnaming” idea—an invented word for his invented crusade—seems to belong more in a social studies department at a middle school than a music department at a university. Johann Sebastian Bach versus Bach. We get the point. Doesn’t insisting on full names for everyone seem a little pretentious, annoying, tedious, and dare I say . . . elitist?
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
I do a lot of talking on behalf of music itself, partially because the field of musicology and music departments in universities and colleges have all but given up on even the pretense of care and love for composers like Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms—the very musicians who, by the beauty and power of their creations, draw kids to music in the first place and continue to move audiences the world over. I also think it’s important to emphasize the universality of this music to puncture the myths about classical music being “elite” or, even stranger, “for the elite.” These myths, I have come to realize, are perpetuated not by curious, less-than-knowledgeable members of the public, but by snide warriors of the politically correct masquerading as hypereducated cognoscenti who possess so much knowledge that they gleefully look to not just restrict our musical diet but to impose theirs on us. Writers like Sloan and Harding might think of themselves as anti-elite and opposed to “gatekeeping,” but in fact they are erecting new gates themselves—as they warn the public of the sinister, narratives of class and race that supposedly run through classical music.
I have been in music long enough (my entire life) to see the power that great music has over people who have no experience with it. Take kids: They know nothing of it, have no background, but fall in love with the sheer sound, and often beg their parents to let them play an instrument. This is what happened to me when I heard the cello for the first time at age three, and it has been my life’s companion.
And the spark of music can work on adults, too. I have done more than my fair share of dragging into the concert hall people who would never ordinarily go, and watching as their lives are changed with one magical experience. I remember summer 2012 in rural Virginia where I served as first cellist for the great, late maestro Lorin Maazel at his Castleton Festival. I had become friends with a local carpenter in his sixties over coffee at the general store. He was afraid to come to a performance of Carmen since he knew nothing about music and felt he wouldn’t “get it.” But I persuaded him to come: I told him that if he didn’t like it, the worst that could happen was that he would have wasted an evening. Far beyond “liking” it, he was reduced to tears. A new passion was born that day for him, and for the next few seasons he came to every single opera, chamber music, and symphony concert until his death this past spring. He always told me how much richer his life was with music and how he wished it had been with him from an earlier age.
Whenever I think of our capacity to love music—even on first hearing—I also remember the time when I was in Qatar a few years ago rehearsing the overture to Wagner’s Tannhaüser. The orchestra had put a clip of the rehearsal online, and I was watching it that evening when a Filipino hotel worker came to offer turndown service. He didn’t speak English well, but we got into conversation. I pointed at the iPad I was using to play the video, and put on the part of the overture where the brasses are playing a huge, noble soaring theme, and the violins are almost fighting back, like an uprising against the brasses—a thrilling, unforgettable passage. The worker told me he’d never had the chance to hear any classical music in his life, yet found himself in tears by the end of the passage. I don’t know if he ever heard a single note of classical music since our meeting. But where the power of music is concerned, that one brief moment speaks for itself.
These are not isolated anecdotes. Great music has the power to captivate anyone who hears it. You don’t need an education or a yacht to qualify as someone who can appreciate it. That might be a hard fact to swallow for ultra-woke, anti-culture crusaders. These joyless ideologues pretend to have the authority to tell millions of unsuspecting listeners, who simply love music for what it is, that no, you are all so poorly educated, how could you so naïvely think it is okay to like Beethoven, and to call him just “Beethoven.” Now there’s some elitism!
For the audience, music is the most democratic of the arts. It isn’t elitist and hasn’t been for decades—thanks to radio and recordings, and especially during this year in which live music barely even exists and everything is being done from our homes and smartphones. What is elitist is pseudo-intellectual glitterati preaching a manufactured moral and political agenda. The idea that classical music is elitist is fake news. Now, let’s go listen to Beethoven’s Fifth.


thebulwark--2020-11-01--The Fruits of Trump’s Arrogant Pride and Twisted Love of Fame

We have all heard any number of explanations for President Donald Trump ’ s seemingly erratic behavior .
They range from the psychological—he ’ s insecure , narcissistic , and megalomaniacal—to the folksy—he ’ s childish , selfish , immature—to the calculating—he measures his worth by wealth as well as his ability to dominate “ deals.
” Let me add to these plausible explanations another—one potentially more dangerous .
Yes , wealth ( or , especially , being viewed as wealthy ) is rooted deep in his self-understanding .
But let ’ s look at his “ calculation ” in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of his own greatness has ingredients beyond the monetary : It also includes sexual conquests , whether easy or forced ; the ability to raise up friends and destroy enemies at will ; plus all the varied aspects of love of power seemingly exercised for its own sake but , more often , used to control or humiliate those who might cross him .
These desires may seem wanton or self-defeating , but he pursues them with a singleness of purpose that have all the hallmarks of calculation .
But calculation toward what @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a rabid self-promoter , but to stop there is to put too easygoing a name on it .
What he seems on every level to love is fame—notoriety , celebrity , importance .
It matters not if fame comes from good works and admiration or from hatred and contempt : It all leads to the same glory—he came , he saw , he conquered .
Now the love of fame is an odd attribute , perhaps especially in a democracy .
Hamilton in The Federalist refers to it as “ the ruling passion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of fame is linked to doing right by one ’ s country , the judgment of history can give such a statesman and his name a kind of eternal life .
Hamilton understood the limits and the perils of this passion when thwarted by legal obstacles or public rejection .
But it remained for Lincoln , in his famous Lyceum address in 1838 , to make the dangers of this all-consuming love of celebrity and fame most clear : While America remained an experiment in self-government , “ all that sought celebrity and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ find them in the success of that experiment.
” But the experiment in liberal self-government has succeeded , and new “ men of ambition ” will “ naturally seek the gratification of their ruling passion , as others have so done before them.
” But can that gratification be found in supporting and maintaining an edifice that has been erected by others ?
Hardly .
“ Towering genius ” —or , just as bad , he who sees himself as such a genius— “ disdains a beaten path.
” An American Caesar would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ our greatness ; he would scorn , in Lincoln ’ s words , “ to tread in the footsteps of any predecessor.
” With Trump ’ s re-election chances dwindling , and with little to satisfy his thirst for fame by any gracious departure , the surest path to world-historical distinction would now be , as Lincoln warned , to “ set boldly to the task of pulling down.
” With other avenues of greater fame becoming closed off to him , to undermine and perhaps destroy the confidence of Americans in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would be the last , most incredible thing Trump could do .
To proclaim that the election is already rigged against him and thus he needn ’ t respect a fraudulent result ; to declare that whole categories of voting , whether early or by mail or absentee , are subject to massive manipulation and have already made the election fixed ; to declare that the media are his enemies and the enemies of the people ( and have his attorney general mouth the same slander ) and that their reporting should be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people and then hint at civil war ; to encourage his armed militias and his “ Second Amendment people ” to stand by and be prepared—these and so many more offenses to democratic government suggest that we may not be in for an easy or rational transfer of power but perhaps the most massive attack on American self-government that we will have experienced since the Civil War .
While it ’ s possible that the next few months will be merely bumpy but manageable , it seems far more likely that it will @ @ @ @ @ @ @ government—political maneuvers , legal battles , protests , demonstrations , public anger , and steadfastness—before we see the end of this .
And all because of an arrogant would-be tyrant and an overweening pride and a twisted love of fame .

We have all heard any number of explanations for President Donald Trump’s seemingly erratic behavior. They range from the psychological—he’s insecure, narcissistic, and megalomaniacal—to the folksy—he’s childish, selfish, immature—to the calculating—he measures his worth by wealth as well as his ability to dominate “deals.”
Let me add to these plausible explanations another—one potentially more dangerous. Yes, wealth (or, especially, being viewed as wealthy) is rooted deep in his self-understanding. But let’s look at his “calculation” in more than economic terms. His vision of his own greatness has ingredients beyond the monetary: It also includes sexual conquests, whether easy or forced; the ability to raise up friends and destroy enemies at will; plus all the varied aspects of love of power seemingly exercised for its own sake but, more often, used to control or humiliate those who might cross him. These desires may seem wanton or self-defeating, but he pursues them with a singleness of purpose that have all the hallmarks of calculation.
But calculation toward what end, what purpose? He is a rabid self-promoter, but to stop there is to put too easygoing a name on it. What he seems on every level to love is fame—notoriety, celebrity, importance. It matters not if fame comes from good works and admiration or from hatred and contempt: It all leads to the same glory—he came, he saw, he conquered.
Now the love of fame is an odd attribute, perhaps especially in a democracy. Hamilton in The Federalist refers to it as “the ruling passion of the noblest minds.” When love of fame is linked to doing right by one’s country, the judgment of history can give such a statesman and his name a kind of eternal life.
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
Hamilton understood the limits and the perils of this passion when thwarted by legal obstacles or public rejection. But it remained for Lincoln, in his famous Lyceum address in 1838, to make the dangers of this all-consuming love of celebrity and fame most clear: While America remained an experiment in self-government, “all that sought celebrity and fame, and distinction, expected to find them in the success of that experiment.” But the experiment in liberal self-government has succeeded, and new “men of ambition” will “naturally seek the gratification of their ruling passion, as others have so done before them.”
But can that gratification be found in supporting and maintaining an edifice that has been erected by others? Hardly. “Towering genius”—or, just as bad, he who sees himself as such a genius—“disdains a beaten path.” An American Caesar would see scant distinction in adding increments to our greatness; he would scorn, in Lincoln’s words, “to tread in the footsteps of any predecessor.” With Trump’s re-election chances dwindling, and with little to satisfy his thirst for fame by any gracious departure, the surest path to world-historical distinction would now be, as Lincoln warned, to “set boldly to the task of pulling down.”
With other avenues of greater fame becoming closed off to him, to undermine and perhaps destroy the confidence of Americans in the worth or even the possibility of self-government would be the last, most incredible thing Trump could do. To proclaim that the election is already rigged against him and thus he needn’t respect a fraudulent result; to declare that whole categories of voting, whether early or by mail or absentee, are subject to massive manipulation and have already made the election fixed; to declare that the media are his enemies and the enemies of the people (and have his attorney general mouth the same slander) and that their reporting should be disbelieved; to continually divide the American people and then hint at civil war; to encourage his armed militias and his “Second Amendment people” to stand by and be prepared—these and so many more offenses to democratic government suggest that we may not be in for an easy or rational transfer of power but perhaps the most massive attack on American self-government that we will have experienced since the Civil War.
While it’s possible that the next few months will be merely bumpy but manageable, it seems far more likely that it will take everything in the arsenal of democratic government—political maneuvers, legal battles, protests, demonstrations, public anger, and steadfastness—before we see the end of this.
And all because of an arrogant would-be tyrant and an overweening pride and a twisted love of fame.


thebulwark--2020-11-01--Help the Hillbillies—and Help Them Help Themselves

J.D .
Vance can ’ t seem to catch a break .
Sure : he ’ s got a Yale law degree ; a New York Times bestselling memoir , Hillbilly Elegy ; a venture-capital firm ; and , coming soon , a Netflix movie based upon his book .
Yet he ’ s catching heat from every direction .
He ’ s at odds with pro-market globalists and the chamber of commerce types .
And progressives cast Vance as an inauthentic grifter earning cash off the backs of the hardworking sons of the soil he claims to champion .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ a thing when I first read his book .
Like many other readers , I was captivated by it .
My own upbringing was far more comfortable than Vance ’ s , but I recognized the world he depicted .
Growing up in the rural South , I saw it in the lives of friends .
As a high school teacher in Alabama coal country , I saw it in the lives of too many of my students .
Digging around in the family past , I realized what a grace it was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it out of the coal country , or my own story might have looked a bit more like Vance ’ s .
As it turns out , though , some Southerners find Vance ’ s story offensive : disingenuous at best , manipulative at worse .
When Netflix dropped the trailer for Hillbilly Elegy , a segment of social media was quick to pan not just the movie , but Vance ’ s entire project .
The music writer Marissa Moss quoted the erstwhile alt-country singer-songwriter Sturgill Simpson , who does not mince @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from Simpson , a talented songwriter who regularly graces the pages of Garden & Gun , a fine publication , but one that presents the South as a happy social club of well-heeled white people enjoying oyster roasts and organic Chardonnay on the shores of Pawleys Island .
Still the dismissal of Vance as some sort of coastal elite is downright bizarre , almost a progressive inversion of right-wing talk radio grievance .
There ’ s no disputing that Vance is now part of the elite demographic , but in his writing and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a pompous , coastal elite .
In fact , Vance ’ s frustration with the market orientation of conservative policy holds more than a tinge of rural resentment to it .
Part of the criticism stems from the fact that Vance did not , it is alleged , grow up in Appalachia .
Vance is from Ohio , to be sure , but he takes great pains to emphasize both the degree to which his town was populated by Appalachian refugees , as well as the extent of his time with family in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ American nonfiction is full of people , of all walks of life , writing about and wrestling with their own family geography , even if they grew up in another region of the country .
It ’ s hardly a serious complaint again Vance , given that he grew up in a neighboring state full of native Kentuckians , West Virginians , and Tennesseans .
When someone like Simpson takes on Vance for elitism , what he really means is that he resents Vance ’ s criticism .
It ’ s not a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s conclusions were different , then his critics would not be so concerned with his provenance .
No , the outrage is ultimately centered on Vance ’ s belief that the problems of Appalachia are of its own making .
For a certain type of cultural critic , Vance offers nothing more than “ up by the bootstraps ” moralizing .
( See this influential piece from The Bitter Southerner . )
Yet how curious that Vance ’ s critics would pooh-pooh a narrative of personal responsibility .
A growing number of conservatives @ @ @ @ @ @ @ action to prevent struggling regions from falling further behind .
Vance himself is far more skeptical of the free market than much of the modern conservative movement is , going so far as to echo Tucker Carlson ’ s hackneyed claim that “ libertarians ” have hijacked the movement over the last generation .
But at his core , Vance recognizes that individuals , families , and communities must retain some fundamental moral agency , even when all other odds seem stacked against them .
Except in well-defined matters of law and justice @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to give hard words to struggling people .
But if we can not look at one another , firmly but lovingly , and say “ get your shit together , ” there will be some portion of our struggling society that we will never reach .
People in a community can love one another and , at times , should make this plea .
How sad that so many of Vance ’ s critics recoil at the very idea .
If Vance ’ s critics can ’ t stand to watch the movie @ @ @ @ @ @ @ streaming service and watch Friday Night Lights .
Though set in the Texas hill country instead of Appalachia , the show is about a town of people facing hard times : single parents struggling to get by , teenagers raising themselves in lieu of absent parents , health problems—all with a backdrop of a slow , largely rural economy .
The show ’ s main characters—Coach Eric Taylor ( Kyle Chandler ) and his wife Tami ( Connie Britton ) —understand that things can happen to people far outside of their control .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ midst of a personal crisis , wondering “ What ’ s wrong with me ?
” Taylor reassures him : “ There ’ s nothing wrong with you at all.
” Eric and Tami Taylor never let the young people in their care , nor their parents , give in to their circumstances ; the real misfortune of life is never an excuse for bailing on one ’ s duty to family , community , or to oneself .
In truth , it ’ s cruel to not tell people that .
Vance @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they are his fellows ; the “ you ain ’ t from around here ” claim is patently absurd—to excuse drug use or illegitimacy or sloth even as he ’ s sharpened his criticism of the free-market right .
The outcry over Vance ’ s work reveals a cultural fissure that mere politics can not address .
An honest assessment of conservative commentary—stripped of all the layers of Trumpian nonsense—demonstrates an increasing willingness to recognize the moral dimensions of capitalism and therefore call corporate elites to task for the cascading consequences of their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ personal responsibility can ’ t be broached at all , the poorest among us will continue to suffer .

J.D. Vance can’t seem to catch a break. Sure: he’s got a Yale law degree; a New York Times bestselling memoir, Hillbilly Elegy; a venture-capital firm; and, coming soon, a Netflix movie based upon his book. Yet he’s catching heat from every direction. He’s at odds with pro-market globalists and the chamber of commerce types. And progressives cast Vance as an inauthentic grifter earning cash off the backs of the hardworking sons of the soil he claims to champion.
I didn’t realize Vance-hatred was a thing when I first read his book. Like many other readers, I was captivated by it. My own upbringing was far more comfortable than Vance’s, but I recognized the world he depicted. Growing up in the rural South, I saw it in the lives of friends. As a high school teacher in Alabama coal country, I saw it in the lives of too many of my students. Digging around in the family past, I realized what a grace it was that a few of my relatives made it out of the coal country, or my own story might have looked a bit more like Vance’s.
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
As it turns out, though, some Southerners find Vance’s story offensive: disingenuous at best, manipulative at worse. When Netflix dropped the trailer for Hillbilly Elegy, a segment of social media was quick to pan not just the movie, but Vance’s entire project. The music writer Marissa Moss quoted the erstwhile alt-country singer-songwriter Sturgill Simpson, who does not mince words.
"I’ll give this to J.D. [Vance] – like so many coastal elites that have come to eastern KY to point out all its problems, much like them he offered no solutions, but just found a way to get fucking paid for it. Twice." – Sturgill Simpson https://t.co/15NhMXIxof — Marissa R. Moss (@MarissaRMoss) October 14, 2020
That’s rich coming from Simpson, a talented songwriter who regularly graces the pages of Garden & Gun, a fine publication, but one that presents the South as a happy social club of well-heeled white people enjoying oyster roasts and organic Chardonnay on the shores of Pawleys Island. Still the dismissal of Vance as some sort of coastal elite is downright bizarre, almost a progressive inversion of right-wing talk radio grievance. There’s no disputing that Vance is now part of the elite demographic, but in his writing and interviews, he hardly comes across as a pompous, coastal elite. In fact, Vance’s frustration with the market orientation of conservative policy holds more than a tinge of rural resentment to it.
Part of the criticism stems from the fact that Vance did not, it is alleged, grow up in Appalachia. Vance is from Ohio, to be sure, but he takes great pains to emphasize both the degree to which his town was populated by Appalachian refugees, as well as the extent of his time with family in the poor regions of eastern Kentucky. American nonfiction is full of people, of all walks of life, writing about and wrestling with their own family geography, even if they grew up in another region of the country. It’s hardly a serious complaint again Vance, given that he grew up in a neighboring state full of native Kentuckians, West Virginians, and Tennesseans.
When someone like Simpson takes on Vance for elitism, what he really means is that he resents Vance’s criticism. It’s not a stretch to think that if Vance’s conclusions were different, then his critics would not be so concerned with his provenance. No, the outrage is ultimately centered on Vance’s belief that the problems of Appalachia are of its own making. For a certain type of cultural critic, Vance offers nothing more than “up by the bootstraps” moralizing. (See this influential piece from The Bitter Southerner.)
Yet how curious that Vance’s critics would pooh-pooh a narrative of personal responsibility. A growing number of conservatives are recognizing the need for limited state action to prevent struggling regions from falling further behind. Vance himself is far more skeptical of the free market than much of the modern conservative movement is, going so far as to echo Tucker Carlson’s hackneyed claim that “libertarians” have hijacked the movement over the last generation. But at his core, Vance recognizes that individuals, families, and communities must retain some fundamental moral agency, even when all other odds seem stacked against them.
Except in well-defined matters of law and justice, it rarely falls to the government to give hard words to struggling people. But if we cannot look at one another, firmly but lovingly, and say “get your shit together,” there will be some portion of our struggling society that we will never reach. People in a community can love one another and, at times, should make this plea. How sad that so many of Vance’s critics recoil at the very idea.
If Vance’s critics can’t stand to watch the movie, perhaps they can switch to another streaming service and watch Friday Night Lights. Though set in the Texas hill country instead of Appalachia, the show is about a town of people facing hard times: single parents struggling to get by, teenagers raising themselves in lieu of absent parents, health problems—all with a backdrop of a slow, largely rural economy. The show’s main characters—Coach Eric Taylor (Kyle Chandler) and his wife Tami (Connie Britton)—understand that things can happen to people far outside of their control. When his quarterback breaks down in the midst of a personal crisis, wondering “What’s wrong with me?” Taylor reassures him: “There’s nothing wrong with you at all.” Eric and Tami Taylor never let the young people in their care, nor their parents, give in to their circumstances; the real misfortune of life is never an excuse for bailing on one’s duty to family, community, or to oneself. In truth, it’s cruel to not tell people that.
Vance doesn’t allow his fellow hillbillies—and they are his fellows; the “you ain’t from around here” claim is patently absurd—to excuse drug use or illegitimacy or sloth even as he’s sharpened his criticism of the free-market right. The outcry over Vance’s work reveals a cultural fissure that mere politics cannot address. An honest assessment of conservative commentary—stripped of all the layers of Trumpian nonsense—demonstrates an increasing willingness to recognize the moral dimensions of capitalism and therefore call corporate elites to task for the cascading consequences of their business decisions. Yet as long as personal responsibility can’t be broached at all, the poorest among us will continue to suffer.


Sean Connery, 1930-2020

Sean Connery is present in my earliest memory of the movies .
This isn ’ t hyperbole : Literally the first movie I remember watching , he was in .
And it ’ s probably not what you ’ re expecting .
I ’ ve never been an enormous Bond fan , and Connery ’ s adventures as 007 all kind of blend together for me .
This is not a knock on Connery or the character ; I just didn ’ t grow up watching the old Bond flicks on TBS or via VHS or whatever .
I came @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and have worked as a movie reviewer during the entirety of Craig ’ s run .
For better or worse , they ’ re the two I associate with the role .
No , Connery ’ s first appearance for your humble narrator was in something a bit smaller , a bit stranger .
It was as Agamemnon in Terry Gilliam ’ s Time Bandits .
I couldn ’ t have been more than four or five ; details of that first viewing are little more than flashes of memory .
I ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ little ditty about a boy who throws in with a band of thieving little people who possess a map that allows them to commit robberies throughout time—went over my head .
Most of what I remember from that first showing are little more than snippets : Evil ( David Warner ) blowing up like a balloon in order to expel arrows that have hit him ; an ogre with a sore back who , oddly , was married to Mona from Who ’ s the Boss ( another childhood touchstone ) ; the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ God chasing down our wee bandits .
And a merry king throwing a party for a lost little boy who helped him slay a minotaur .
The king , of course , was Connery ; by the time I became aware of him , his image was already being deconstructed by merry pranksters like Gilliam .
The first action hero playing one of the first heroes from myth , a king more interested in sleight of hand than the ability to wield a sword .
And as the years would go by , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that I most loved Connery ’ s work .
Oh , sure , there were more traditional action movie-performances : big , bold roles in big , bold movies .
John Patrick Mason in The Rock or Mac in Entrapment .
The Hunt for Red October and The Untouchables loom large .
But it was the bigger , bolder roles in less traditional movies—some might say B pictures—that I came to love Connery in .
The Egyptian by way of Spain , Ramírez , in Highlander .
The bandolier-and-brief wearing savage , Zed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of time , Allan Quatermain , in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen .
And , of course , Agamemnon in Time Bandits .
Connery lent his own gravitas to everything he was in , no matter how goofy it was or , frankly , how terrible it was .
I mean , The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is no one ’ s idea of a good movie .
Indeed , it ’ s an actively bad movie .
Still .
I ’ ve no idea if he took the picture seriously , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it shows up onscreen .
And the same could be said for all of these weird little movies—the paycheck jobs .
Sean Connery made every single movie he was in at least a little better than it had to be , his rumbling Scottish brogue cutting through whatever bullshit he was engaged in at any given time .
And that ’ s the greatest thing any actor can do : elevate the material they ’ ve been given to another level .
So while you ’ re all throwing on Diamonds are Forever @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ll excuse me if I pop in my Criterion Blu-ray of Time Bandits and engage in a slightly different brand of nostalgia .

Sean Connery is present in my earliest memory of the movies.
This isn’t hyperbole: Literally the first movie I remember watching, he was in.
And it’s probably not what you’re expecting. I’ve never been an enormous Bond fan, and Connery’s adventures as 007 all kind of blend together for me. This is not a knock on Connery or the character; I just didn’t grow up watching the old Bond flicks on TBS or via VHS or whatever. I came of age during Brosnan’s run and have worked as a movie reviewer during the entirety of Craig’s run. For better or worse, they’re the two I associate with the role.
No, Connery’s first appearance for your humble narrator was in something a bit smaller, a bit stranger. It was as Agamemnon in Terry Gilliam’s Time Bandits.
I couldn’t have been more than four or five; details of that first viewing are little more than flashes of memory. I’m sure most of the movie—a trippy little ditty about a boy who throws in with a band of thieving little people who possess a map that allows them to commit robberies throughout time—went over my head. Most of what I remember from that first showing are little more than snippets: Evil (David Warner) blowing up like a balloon in order to expel arrows that have hit him; an ogre with a sore back who, oddly, was married to Mona from Who’s the Boss (another childhood touchstone); the floating, glowing, shouting head of God chasing down our wee bandits.
And a merry king throwing a party for a lost little boy who helped him slay a minotaur.
Podcast · August 15 2023 A.B. Stoddard: All the Ex-President’s Conspirators Donald Trump has been a low-rent mobster for his entire career, and now he’s getting…
The king, of course, was Connery; by the time I became aware of him, his image was already being deconstructed by merry pranksters like Gilliam. The first action hero playing one of the first heroes from myth, a king more interested in sleight of hand than the ability to wield a sword. And as the years would go by, it was in movies such as these that I most loved Connery’s work.
Oh, sure, there were more traditional action movie-performances: big, bold roles in big, bold movies. John Patrick Mason in The Rock or Mac in Entrapment. The Hunt for Red October and The Untouchables loom large. But it was the bigger, bolder roles in less traditional movies—some might say B pictures—that I came to love Connery in.
The Egyptian by way of Spain, Ramírez, in Highlander. The bandolier-and-brief wearing savage, Zed, in Zardoz. The legend out of time, Allan Quatermain, in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
And, of course, Agamemnon in Time Bandits.
Connery lent his own gravitas to everything he was in, no matter how goofy it was or, frankly, how terrible it was. I mean, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is no one’s idea of a good movie. Indeed, it’s an actively bad movie. Still. I’ve no idea if he took the picture seriously, but he took the work seriously, and it shows up onscreen. And the same could be said for all of these weird little movies—the paycheck jobs. Sean Connery made every single movie he was in at least a little better than it had to be, his rumbling Scottish brogue cutting through whatever bullshit he was engaged in at any given time. And that’s the greatest thing any actor can do: elevate the material they’ve been given to another level.
So while you’re all throwing on Diamonds are Forever or You Only Live Twice, you’ll excuse me if I pop in my Criterion Blu-ray of Time Bandits and engage in a slightly different brand of nostalgia.