Edmund Burke's quote at the title of this blog entry is a provocation. The words "triumph," "evil," and "good" are loaded these days. Who is more triumphant than Donald Trump, even in defeat, in Iowa? Who throws around the word "evil" more than Ted Cruz? And who knows what "good" is, in a time when Antonin Scalia is lionized by people who could scarcely put into words what constituted his judicial philosophy?
This whole inquiry could be branded as elitism in what passes for political discourse today. And even the use of the phrase, "political discourse today," would be a shout-out to the cynics who argue that nothing has changed: The left and right were just as extreme, just as shrill, and just as unrealistic in 1936 and 1969 as they are now. And the curmudgeonly would point out that the moderates are just as befuddled and unprincipled now as then.
The discourse reminds me of the old joke about the Synagogue. Half of the congregation sits during the Sh'ma prayer. Half stands. Arguments ensue, endless committee meetings and Board of Directors debates. The Rabbi disagrees with the Cantor. Invective is hurled. Finally, the President cannot stand it any more. He calls together the warring parties, and proposes that they visit Solomon, the aged founder of the Congregation, who lives in a nursing home, and agree to be bound by his recollection of the tradition. They assemble for a visit. Solomon is asleep in a chair, under a blanket. They rouse him, and he opens one eye, warily. The President addresses the question: "Solomon: Is it our tradition to sit during Sh'ma?" Solomon answers: "That is not our tradition." The Cantor, frustrated, asks him: "Solomon: Is it our tradition to stand during Sh'ma?" Solomon responds: "That is not our tradition." The President, exasperated, stammers: "Solomon, you have to help. Everyone is fighting!" Solomon opens both eyes, and replies, "THAT is our tradition."
Vigorous debate and hot-blooded conflict is, indeed, our tradition. It was an American Revolution, not an American parlor discussion. The Civil War was a war, not a wrestling match. The "bloodless" revolution that ended the Vietnam War and brought down Richard Nixon was not pretty---not at Kent State, and not during the Saturday Night Massacre. It wasn't even bloodless.
So why does it feel different? Some commentators "blame" the 24/7/365 media. The left blames Fox News. The right blames weakness, changes in values, and a host of other buzzwords that describe the standards most Americans live by these days. Everyone loves America, but no one on either side can agree on what they love about it. We actually have a Presidential candidate that runs on a platform of "making America great again," and places it in terms of "winning," He tells us we lose everything: Trade negotiations. Jobs. Wars. I haven't seen so much dialectical thinking since Stalin died. Thomas Friedman has spent the last thirty years selling us on the idea that relationships between nations and economies are complicated. Donald Trump has spent eleven months blowing that idea to Kingdom Come. At least Friedman footnotes!
The title of this blog entry recalls an American tradition of involvement, engagement, and a vision lasting longer than the closing bell on tomorrow's stock exchange. Donald Trump may reflect an American tradition of demagoguery pioneered by Huey Long, Joseph McCarthy, and the Know Nothing Party, but he doesn't reflect our best tradition. We didn't feel dominant and good because of the leadership of those two men, and that wing of the Republican Party. And we didn't feel destined for greater purposes than political squabbling because of the War in Vietnam, but because our democracy, at long last, extracted us from error on the strength of popular will and generational change. Good men---and women---started to do something against nativism, against blacklisting, and against an unjust war.
Our tradition, as the Synagogue joke goes, was to fight over our tradition. The more people that join the fight, the more truth emerges from the debate. It's early in the election cycle. Whether we sit or stand, in the end, is our own business. So long as we fight about it, we'll end up ok.
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