What Middle Ground?

Since he was (figuratively) flogged in public over his choice to repeatedly equate neo-Nazis with people protesting against neo-Nazis, President Trump has sought solace in the safer arguments over the Confederate statue at the center of the rally there. He stopped questioning whether the people at the rally really were white supremacists, but he is painting their opposition to the removal of the statue of General Lee as a defense of "history," and "culture," which have broad resonance - although to be sure white supremacists will hear those words as a loud and clear endorsement.

It is clearly a shift designed to move himself onto firmer rhetorical ground, as there is significantly more support among Republicans for keeping the monuments in place than there is for open defense of hate groups. That is a reality that, I admit, I find rather difficult to understand. It seems odd to me that living white supremacists would be given such pointed censure by public figures, but at the same time the symbols of a rebellion fought in the name of white supremacy and in defense of race-based slavery would be treated with such reverence.

The issue is illustrative of the difficulties faced by conservatism - and by conservatism I mean an inclination toward preserving or only carefully modifying the existing social order - in an age of such dramatic upheaval. Thirty years ago, when there was no popular movement to remove Confederate monuments from public spaces, it was possible for conservatives to say that those monuments were simply historical pieces, and not see themselves as associated with white supremacists.

Today that possibility has vanished. One can no longer blithely talk about the history being commemorated by a statue of Robert E. Lee without considering the political and moral implications, precisely because the monuments have been made controversial by previously unheard or unheeded voices. As might be expected, as more and more of the country becomes nonwhite, the challenges to elements of white supremacy are becoming louder and have a more powerful political infrastructure behind them. "History" is not a reasonable defense of a monument when the moral mistakes of the Confederacy are still being made today in less garish form. 

Speaking more broadly, the political logic of conservatism is that social instability is bad and that the most efficient way to maintain stability is to protect the existing social structure, making modifications only as necessary. Yet in times of rapid social change, when that existing structure is inherently unstable, the logic of conservatism breaks down. When preserving the social order as it exists is no longer possible, what is a conservative to do?

The only options, it would seem, are to pick a side or to withdraw. Under these circumstances the most likely thing for anyone to do is to continue to fight the enemy they know. People react to situations that challenge core beliefs by pretending as though they don't exist. Yet, even that denial amounts to choosing a side. Defense of the status quo, at a certain point, is indistinguishable from support for the reactionary forces attempting to reverse the tide of change.

There is a fundamental tendency for chaotic political situations to radicalize everyone, even and perhaps especially those who don't realize it. When the questions being discussed are so fundamental to who we are as a society, the middle ground erodes beneath us. That doesn't mean that more extreme conflict is inevitable and there is no hope of reconciliation, but it does mean that before there can be reconciliation there must be a decisive victory for one side or another. Whether we were in the streets or not, whether we spoke out or not, we will know what side we were on.

Charlottesville

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms the egregious display of hatred, bigotry, and violence on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Donald Trump, not Barack Obama. This has been going on for a long time."

That statement was the response of the President of the United States to the violence surrounding a white supremacist rally that had been planned for yesterday in Charlottesville, Virginia. The rally was cancelled by the state after Governor Terry McAuliffe declared a state of emergency in response to the breakout of brawls between white nationalists and the counter-protesters who assembled to challenge them. Tensions have remained high since, in particular after a rally-attender drove his car into a crowd of counter-protesters, killing one and wounding more than a dozen others. Trump's statement was illustrative of a number of his personal flaws, but I would like to emphasize less the imperfections of Donald Trump than the exact effect this sort of "condemnation" has.

Trump, it will be remembered, has a long history of coyly not-quite-disavowing figures in the far right and making racial appeals. He developed a curious case of amnesia regarding the history of David Duke, pointedly refused to condemn anti-semitic threats made by supporters against a reporter covering his wife, dismissed the Black Lives Matter movement as "looking for trouble,"  repeatedly linked immigration and "the inner-cities" to criminality, cited a judge's "Mexican heritage" as a reason he should not be allowed to preside in a lawsuit against Trump University, and lest we forget he also was the premier champion of the birther movement for several years.

The most alarming and disheartening thing about that list is that it is a very, very partial one. What puts Trump's statement quoted at the top in the tradition of those other comments is that it explicitly refused to call out the white supremacists as the cause of the violence. Those in attendance were seen shouting adapted Nazi slogans like "blood and soil," and "Heil Trump," adding a few of their own, including "White Lives Matter," and "Fuck you, faggots." They surrounded and attempted to intimidate counter-protesters. At the end of the day, one of their number ran a car into a crowd.

That level of repulsive violence and hate being openly established as their creed, Trump proceeded to implicitly equate their position with those of the counter-protesters. "On many sides" he said. Twice. He may as well have responded to the Nazi invasion of Poland by saying that everyone got a bit heated and it was time to calm down. The purpose of the rally was to provoke and frighten. A feigned neutrality on the part of the president only serves to embolden those promoting hateful ideas.

Earlier today, in response to a chorus of criticism of his non-denunciation, the White House added a statement including white supremacists in the condemnation the president issued. Yet the omission of the words "white supremacy" was not, as we have already noted, the primary issue with the original statement. It is the equation of white supremacy with those opposing white supremacy. This is not a "two sides" issue. When the position of one side is predicated explicitly on violence and intimidation, both sides are not to blame when violence ensues. It has been a legal and moral principle for millennia that self-defense is a reasonable justification for the use of force. When one side attacks, both sides are not to blame. Pretending otherwise is enabling the aggressor. That is what Trump is doing.

In the national discussion regarding Trump and his relationship with extremists in the last two years, one thing that has been ignored is that those defending Trump and those opposing him are not agreeing because they are talking about different things. Trump says that he thinks racism and neo-Nazis and white supremacists are bad, and a number of people will point to that as proof that he isn't helping these groups. But when he repeatedly associates nonwhites with criminality, when he attacks immigrants as taking things from "real" Americans, when he espouses a militaristic and aggressive view of the world, when his administration attacks any program or law designed to weaken racism or homophobia - when, in short, he adopts a significant portion of the platform of white supremacy and the alt-right/fascist movement - we can hardly be astonished that the leaders of that movement support him.

He can denounce the name of the ideology or claim that it isn't what he believes as much as he likes, but when he keeps doing things that those who do espouse that ideology want and when he keeps giving room for that movement to flourish under his aegis, he is culpable. The unspoken truth here is that Trump will never denounce white supremacy and white supremacists with a full voice, because people who have the political attitudes and vocabulary of white supremacists but can't bring themselves to espouse hate openly are a large fraction of his support. This problem is not going away. I applaud the counter-protesters who held their ground yesterday. If fascists and white supremacists are going to march in the streets, they need to be opposed.

We are rapidly approaching the point where we will all find it necessary to take sides. The groups represented at that rally are increasingly numerous, and their views are increasingly influential and represented in government. The political will necessary to oppose them and do so firmly is what is required, and only relentless activism can produce that will in elected officials.

The Generational Divide in the Democratic Party

Lately there has been far too much going on within and about the Trump administration to devote much attention to the Democratic Party. Yet that party has been scarcely less divided of late than the Republicans, both of them enduring significant rebellions against the party machinery.

For the Republicans, that rebellion has been fueled by two things: 1) racial and cultural fears excited by rapid social change and 2) long term economic trends that have negatively impacted rural areas and the white middle class - both Republican strongholds. The party elite, being very far removed socially from both sets of stressors, are not alarmed by them except as an abstraction. To put it mildly, the corresponding divergence between words spoken to the voters and actions taken has been notcied.

For the Democrats, there is a simpler but perhaps even messier fracture along generational lines. A lot of words have been spent in the last two years comparing the plight of the Democrats to the Republicans, in terms of a grassroots insurgency against a stodgy and feckless party leadership. The generational element is what distinguishes the two.

Regardless of self-described ideology, older voters in the Democratic primary chose establishment pillar Hillary Clinton over Bernie Sanders. Younger voters, again across ideological lines, did the reverse. Why?

I personally did not support Senator Sanders' campaign and I thought- and still think - that its tactics were crass and shabby, and that the campaign itself was far too eager to blame its own limitations on "the establishment." That being acknowledged, the glory of the Sanders campaign was that he was a left of center candidate who was willing to make bold, decisive proposals. I do not of course speak for my generation - still less those who voted for Senator Sanders - but I certainly understand and at root sympathize with the impulse that drove his support.

The preceding generation of Democrats came of age politically in an America where conservative ideology was dominant, government was a swear word, and the Democratic Party felt compelled to de-emphasize direct government action in its program. Bill Clinton was among those on the forefront of that effort, which bore electoral fruit. What it did not do is predispose Democrats of that generation to boldness or visionary thinking.

Small but concrete improvements may be the bread and butter of good government, but in extraordinary times such as those in which we have lived since the financial market crash of 2008 they seem depressingly inadequate. A new generation of Democrats has come of age in that time, electrified by the passion of the Obama campaign and disillusioned by the bruising fights of his presidency. In the middle of a decade-long political brawl with enormous stakes and a number of looming policy crises, the Clinton campaign seemed tepid and spiritless by comparison with the brash Sanders. 

We were presented with an exceptional administrator and clear practical thinker in Secretary Clinton, but what we wanted in our hearts was a leader. Bernie Sanders was not that leader, but he sounded the part far more than she did. It is a leader for whom the search continues, so far as I am concerned. There are a number of plausible candidates for that mantle. What I know with certainty is that Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi are not those people.

One point that Senator Sanders made that I agree with is that a party can hardly be expected to achieve great things if it won't even propose them. The Democratic Party is currently held together by a shared sense of horror and outrage at the unmitigated disaster that has been the Trump presidency to date. What it needs, as has been noted repeatedly, is a message. But the best possible message to cover a timid program won't do. A more aggressive platform and a messenger with credibility are both required. For all of Secretary Clinton's merits, she did not have the latter. We need leaders worthy of the moment. For now, we have to keep waiting for them.