December Diary: From the Political to the Personal
1.
About a month before the election, I found myself—don’t ask how or why—in an audience listening to a speech by Jeffrey Wiesenfeld.
For those of you who are not CUNY insiders, Wiesenfeld is a former member of the CUNY Board of Trustees. He’s also an ultra-right Zionist who’s got a lot of nice things to say about Meir Kahane (“misunderstood”) and who’s been behind or involved in pretty much every dustup over Israel/Palestine that we’ve had at CUNY these last ten years or so. His most notable effort was trying to deny an honorary degree to Tony Kushner. (I was pleased to find out from his lecture that our massive pushback against him led him to lose a bunch of clients—all Jewish, he made a point of noting—from his Wall Street firm.)
Anyway, in the course of this lecture, which was basically an extended critique of the forces arrayed against the State of Israel and how anti-Zionism parallels the Holocaust, Wiesenfeld let slip something interesting. Talking about all the SJP groups and BDS movements on college campuses today, he said (almost these exact words): The biggest threat to Jews today is not the Arabs. It’s not the Muslims. It’s the Jews. 1/3 of them—mostly Orthodox, he said—love Israel and will protect it. 1/3 of them don’t care. And 1/3 of them hate it. (Most SJP groups, he said, are headed by Jews.) So, he concluded, we can only count on 1/3 of the Jewish people; the rest are useless or dangerous to us.
All of which is to say: this is the milieu from which Trump’s proposed Ambassador to Israel comes.
2.
As I’ve argued in a piece that may or may not find a home somewhere, the Trump coalition and the Trump presidency may be far more divided and vulnerable than we think. I have a lot more in that piece about the various divides and fissures, but there’s no doubt that trade is going to be one of the immediate flash points.
More than anything else Trump said during the campaign—on race (certainly on race, actually), on immigration, even on entitlement cuts (about which he waffled)—Trump’s positions on trade were by far the most salient signs of his willingness to break with GOP orthodoxy. And there is virtually no evidence he didn’t mean it. Which the GOP’s leaders are about to discover, much to their regret:
These sources, who spoke on condition of anonymity because the conversations with the Trump team were arranged as confidential, said the reaction was one of fierce opposition. Priebus, the sources said, was warned such a move could start trade wars, anger allies, and also hurt the new administration’s effort to boost the rate of economic growth right out of the gate. One of the sources said he viewed the idea as a trial balloon when first raised, and considered it dead on arrival given the strong reaction in the business community — and the known opposition to such protectionist ideas among the GOP congressional leadership.
But this source voiced new alarm Tuesday after being told by allies within the Trump transition that defending new tariffs was part of the confirmation ‘murder board’ practice of Wilbur Ross, the President-elect’s choice for commerce secretary.
At the same time, despite making several appointments of hardliners against free trade, Trump has a Cabinet filled with orthodox free traders. Hold onto your seats!
3.
This is a fascinating article, in spite of itself, about the aura of power that the Bannon/Breitbart operation behind Trump tries to create. If you read it quickly, it sounds scary: message discipline enforced by Bannon from on high, gets transmitted to terrified members of Congress down low.
But what’s the actual threat these guys wield? Tweets. Tweets. In other words, they’re depending on that old dream of politics watchers in the US—the presidential bully pulpit—hoping it can be more of a power than it has ever really been.
Beyond the bully pulpit, there are two kinds of threats to members of Congress: first, having funds cut off or denied to your favored pet projects in your state/district or not being able to get critical legislation that you want passed; second, being primaried if you’re up for election. In other words, this is pretty much the landscape of presidential action we already know, and the question will be whether Bannon/Breitbart with their tweets, and Trump with his, will have any more power over their own party in Congress than presidents and congressional leaders have ever had over theirs.
I have my doubts, but this is why resisting the politics of fear is so important. Power like this, resting in tweets, relies a lot on atmospherics. The purpose of that atmospherics is to magnify power: so that its wielder can hold that power in reserve, and thereby deploy it more efficiently, or because its wielder doesn’t have that much power in the first place, and needs to generate fear in order to make that power seem more potent than it is. Hobbes understood this all too well. So did the forces around Joe McCarthy. We need to understand it, too, and oppose it: not to cooperate with it, not to contribute to it, not to participate in it.
4.
Internal dissidents and civil servants within the Department of Energy managed to secure the first victory we’ve seen against Trump, forcing his transition team to back down on a questionnaire regarding the position of DOE employees on climate change.
It’s stories like this that lead me, in part, to emphasize the cracks and cleavages, the dissonances, within the Trump coalition. As I’ve said, I don’t see my posts as organizing tools. I really am just reporting what I see and offering my interpretations. But if there is a political uptick to what I say, it’s to get us to see opportunities and take advantage of them, not to add to the considerable and justifiable fear that Trump already generates, not to be cowed or overly impressed by his rhetoric.
I’ve never quite understood an organizing model that tries to mobilize people by emphasizing how implacable, unified, and impervious an enemy is to challenge or contestation, by emphasizing how absolutely, utterly terrifying its power is. That kind of talk runs the risk of putting the awe into awful, and sometimes betrays a secret fascination with the power it decries. Maybe it’s because I’m a congenital coward (I really am), but that kind of talk makes me want to run for the hills. (Or take a nap.)
Far better, I’d have thought, to point out vulnerabilities, to show how, when challenged, these bullies can be forced to beat a retreat.
So again, no real political point here, but if you want to take one away, it’s not “be complacent, all will work out.” It’s “they’re a lot more vulnerable and disunited than you might think.”
5.
The most important Arendt text for understanding Trumpism is not Origins of Totalitarianism but Eichmann in Jerusalem. At the heart of the latter text is not the pulverized individual or the rootless mass or populism run amok; instead we find the careerist and the collaborator, both figures of ambition and advance, working their way through the most established institutions of society.
As right-wingers in Congress introduce legislation that would punish universities (and, not far behind that, I’m sure, will be cities or states) that offer sanctuary to the undocumented, watch out for these collaborators and careerists who argue for cooperation rather than confrontation. Trumpism cannot happen without an extended network of these types, whose arguments are powerful precisely because there will be real costs at stake in any resistance.
Here’s an old post on this topic.
6.
One of the few bright spots since the election was the overwhelming vote of Columbia grad students to unionize. Now the Columbia administration is challenging the election, in the hopes that a new Trump NLRB will overturn the Obama NLRB’s decision to recognize grad students as employees.
Even worse, Columbia deploys some of the telltale tools of Trumpism. The university claims that “tactics like voter coercion”—hmm, sounds an awful lot like voter fraud—”may have tipped the balance in favor of the union.” As if that weren’t enough, the Times reports that “Columbia also faulted the regional body of the N.L.R.B., saying a last-minute decision not to require voters to present identification might have allowed ineligible voters to cast ballots.”
This is the real face of the “normalization”: while virtually everyone in the Columbia administration, I’m sure, opposes Trumpism of the state, they’re more than happy to embrace a Trumpism of society. Any employer, I don’t care how liberal, that refuses to recognize this most basic right of its employees, is practicing social Trumpism. And ought to be called out as such.
We need to attach the label “Trumpist” to wherever we find it: in North Carolina, Michigan, or the Ivy League.
7.
If I’m reading this Nate Cohn article correctly, it seems that in the 2016 election, Clinton did worse than Obama among black voters, among working-class white voters (where Obama had actually made major strides over his predecessors), and among working-class Latinx voters. The one group where Clinton improved upon Obama was wealthier, educated, mostly white voters.
In other words, the candidate whose calling card during the primary was that she, and she alone, could speak to issues of identity and race lost votes among working class, poorer voters of all races, and gained votes, almost exclusively, among wealthier, better educated whites.
That’s certainly speaking to issues of identity and race, but not quite in the way Clinton or her supporters meant.
8.
I thought Michelle Goldberg got a lot of things wrong during the campaign—though who I am to throw stones? And I certainly didn’t appreciate being told by her that we on the left somehow weren’t wise or mature enough to understand political realities in the United State—even those of us, apparently, who study politics for a living and are probably at least a decade older than she is.
Nevertheless, this article by Goldberg, on a group of voters who support Planned Parenthood yet voted for Trump, is incredibly important and offers an analysis that has gone almost completely unreported in the media:
But if they’re maddening, the focus groups are also revelatory. They suggest that the Clinton campaign made a fatal mistake in depicting Trump as outside the bounds of normal conservatism. Clinton’s camp had hoped that doing so would lead Republicans to defect. Instead, it helped some people who distrust conservatism to reconcile themselves to Trump….
But many of the people in the focus groups didn’t know he’d made this assurance [to defund Planned Parenthood], and those who did didn’t take it seriously. It seemed as if Trump’s lasciviousness, which Clinton hoped would disqualify Trump with women, actually worked in his favor. The focus group participants couldn’t imagine that Trump would enact a religious right agenda….
If Democrats ever want to regain power, they don’t need to wedge Trump away from the Republican Party. They need to yoke him to it. These voters might be OK with Trump talking about grabbing women by the pussies. What they didn’t know is that they were voting for the federal government to do it.
9.
Not long after the election, I was up at Cornell and had dinner with Seth Ackerman. We were talking about all things political, and Seth said that he thought the focus on the DNC chair race, in which congressman (and prominent Sanders supporter) Keith Ellison has made a surprisingly strong bid, was just another instance of progressives foolishly getting distracted over an essentially meaningless fight. I was inclined to agree. Chuck Schumer had already come out for Ellison, which made me think there was no way this was going to be a fight at all. And with Schumer behind him, it didn’t seem like Ellison could really make a credible claim to be taking on the establishment.
But after weeks of intense attacks on Ellison—many of them, it seems, spearheaded by the White House—I’ve begun to wonder if there is not more to the race than Seth or I realized.
Perhaps it’s a genuine reprise of the Clinton/Sanders fight from the campaign? Though if it is, how to explain Schumer and Harry Reid coming out for Ellison?
Perhaps it’s just about Israel, though again, the Schumer question intrudes.
This article has Obama-Clinton insiders basically saying that at this moment of needing to appeal to white working class voters, the last thing the DNC needs is an African-American Muslim at the helm. I gather that they think Perez, Ellison’s strongest opponent, codes more as white?
Which should, if nothing else, tell you all you need to know about how identity politics was used during the primary campaign: When it served their purposes, the Obama/Clinton wing of the party made a big to do about Sanders being white, from Vermont, and out of touch with black voters; now they’re going after Ellison for being black and Muslim. And Sanders is pushing, hard, for him.
10.
The vacuum of leadership at the highest levels of the Democratic Party is stunning.
Besides Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Ellison, who in national office or power is speaking out against Trump?
Before the election, it was all fascism all the time; now it’s silence, wait and see.
As Jeremy Kessler suggested to me the other night, maybe all that fascism talk pre-election has been internalized. At the time, I thought that talk was just a tactical ploy. What I should have remembered is that tactical ploys can work their magic on their wielders. Tacticians can become captives of their tactics.
In any event, there’s a vacuum of leadership on the liberal left, which means there’s a real opportunity for any moderately ambitious, ideologically coherent politico or activist in her 20s or 30s—or groups of moderately ambitious politicos and activists—to make her mark right now.
11.
Whenever I push my line that Trump and the GOP are more vulnerable than we might think, I get a lot of pushback. One frequent counter I hear is: “If there’s another terrorist attack, it’s all over. They’ll turn the country into complete and total fascism.”
I’d be the last person to claim with any certainty what would or wouldn’t happen in such an instance. (Again, I have my doubts that such an attack would do the work of the right that people think it would do, but that’s another conversation for another day.)
But I think it’s worth examining the claim less as a prediction of the future, less for what it says about Trump and the GOP or the US, than what it says about the state of the American left.
There’s an assumption built into the claim that national security and national security crises are inherently the province and the project of the right, that such situations always redound to the benefit of reactionaries and revanchists. I think that’s wrong—revealingly wrong—on two fronts.
First, historically, as much as they were moments of revanchism and repression, national security crises were also moments of advance, offering opportunities to the left.
The main moments of African American progress, as Rogers Smith and Phil Klinker argued in The Unsteady March, were times of warfare (the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World War II, and the Cold War). During the Cold War, civil rights activists faced a tremendous amount of repression from the American state; they were tarred as Communists and traitors and much else. Yet, they also knew how to turn the Cold War into an opportunity for themselves.
Outside the US, similar dynamics obtain. Lenin would certainly have greeted it as news that national security was the domain of the right: Despite the setbacks World War I posed to the left, he saw it in the end as an incubator of the revolution in Russia. And would the French have abolished the monarchy outside a context of pan-European war?
I’m hardly saying we’re in a comparable situation today; we’re not. But the fact that we’re not in a comparable situation is something that needs to be interrogated, historically and critically, and not naturalized as some sort of ontological fact of politics.
What we’re facing today is, among other things, the product of the weakness of the left, both in terms of its organizational capacity and its political analysis, and the multiple ways in which the American state can conduct warfare and police the globe without mobilizing all of society. But again, these developments need to be understood historically and not reified.
Second, this change in the historical relationship between the left and crises of national security also reveals our failure on the left to fully develop something like a foreign policy, much less a larger analysis of the relationship between domestic and international politics. This was made painfully clear during the Sanders campaign.
In the face of the depredations of WWI and the abdication of the Tsar, the Bolsheviks offered peace, land, and bread. What have we to offer?
At some point, the war on terror, and its underlying assumptions, will have to be confronted by the left. We have to have an answer, an analysis, about the global situation, what the relationship is between American action and international developments, not just in the context of war but also in the context of peace. So that if/when there is another terrorist attack, we have something to say beyond “no dumb wars.” (It’s telling that Obama’s position against the Iraq War is probably the most coherent statement—on the order of peace, land, and bread—to emanate out of the liberal/left side of the spectrum since 9/11.)
The fact, in other words, that we think a terrorist attack will redound solely to the benefit of Trump and the GOP says as much about us as it does about Trump, the GOP, and the rest of the country.
12.
One of the advantages of political trajectories like my own—where you come to the left somewhat later in life, where you start out as a fairly moderate, in some ways even conservative, liberal type, and are dragged to the left by a combination of events, friends, teachers, circumstances, reading, and your own head—is that you don’t see non-leftists (including liberals) as a permanent, intractable enemy, incapable of changing their views. You tend to see possibilities for transformation, and you have faith in things like organizing, and you tend to see liberalism as a multivalent ideology that can go in any number of ways. So while I criticize liberals a lot, I’ve always resisted the polarization that sees liberalism as a static, benighted formation or leftism as something you’re somehow born to.
The other advantage is that you don’t have to do that thing that some liberals—especially the ones with radical pasts, whether as anarchists, Marxists, Maoists, members of the ISO or the SWP or PL or whatever—do. You don’t have to slay some youthful ghost within yourself, you don’t have to patrol the boundaries of reasonableness (lest you or someone around you backslide), you don’t have lecture other people on the need for compromise and coalition, as if you were the first person in the world to discover such virtues, and you don’t have that perpetual feeling of embarrassment and anxiety about other leftists acting foolishly. Because you know—from personal experience—that even the moderate man of reasonableness can sometimes act the fool, too.
13.
Reading Vasilly Grossman’s Life and Fate on a winter’s day up at my parents’.
I don’t know if it’s my mood, the cold, the dark, or the political climate outside, but I feel a sad sense of identification with these Jewish commissars trying, against all odds, to teach the troops that communism requires the overcoming of all forms of ethnic chauvinism, including Jewish chauvinism, because chauvinistic forms of identity are always the voice of fascism.
I also feel a sad sense of identification with these Old Bolsheviks in Stalin’s labor camps, idiotically, haplessly holding onto their sense of revolutionary virtue against all the criminals and thugs arrayed against them, these not quite yet broken Bolsheviks trying desperately to believe that their political morality is not just superior to but stronger than that brutal lowlife cynicism that always claims to be more in touch with the world than the revolution that brought the world into being.
We, all of us, seem to have been fighting this fight for a very long time.
14.
I’ve always been suspicious of the discourse of conformity.
Whether the object of critique is totalitarianism or the midcentury man in the grey flannel suit or the denizens of the welfare state, the tendency is to depict a society without individuals, a mass of unthinking automatons, blindly following the crowd, merging themselves with the crowd, losing themselves in the crowd.
One of the reasons I love Life and Fate—and why I think novels like 1984 or treatises like The Origins of Totalitarianism (at least the last third, which everyone pays the most attention to or books like The Captive Mind are off the mark—is that it gives the lie to that image of conformity precisely at a moment when you’d most expect it: the Soviet Union during the war years.
In one of the most amazing scenes in the novel, Grossman narrates what’s running through the heads of a small tank brigade, and it’s the sheer accumulation of differentiating detail that makes you realize how wrong Orwell, Arendt, critics of the 50s, and others were/are:
One soldier was singing; another, his eyes half-closed, was full of dire forebodings; a third was thinking about home; a fourth was chewing some bread and sausage and thinking about the sausage [I love that little detail]; a fifth, his mouth wide open, was trying to identify a bird on a tree; a sixth was worrying about whether he’d offended his mate by swearing at him the previous night; a seventh, still furious, was dreaming of giving his enemy—the commander of the tank in the front—a good punch on the jaw; an eighth was composing a farewell poem to the autumn forest; a ninth was thinking about a girl’s breasts; a tenth was thinking about his dog…an eleventh was thinking how good it would be to live alone in a hut in the forest, drinking spring-water, eating berries and going about barefoot; a twelfth was wondering whether to feign sickness and have a rest in hospital; a thirteenth was remembering a fairy-tale he had heard as a child; a fourteenth was remembering the last time he had talked to his girl—he felt glad that they had now separated for ever; a fifteenth was thinking about the future—after the war he would like to run a canteen.
The humanism of that passage is so much more powerful than the putative humanism that critics of totalitarianism or of midcentury conformity in capitalist America/welfarist Britain claim to stand for.
15.
When I assumed my three-year term as department chair in May 2014, I realized I was taking over from a long, long line of crazy hoarders.
The first thing I did was to dismantle an entire wall of filing cabinets in the chair’s office that were filled with useless paper stretching back to the 1970s. Most of the stuff was tossed; the documents of historical importance or institutional interest I had converted into electronic files or sent to the College archives. That took about a semester.
The second thing I did was to have Barbara Haugstatter, our department administrator of unflagging energy and bottomless devotion to the faculty and students, go through and toss out the pounds and pounds of crap—ancient printers, crusty blue books, and God knows what else—that had accumulated in our storage room, which is about the size of a Manhattan apartment. That has taken about two and half years. But now it has the airiness of a loft in Soho.
And last week I spent a few days completing my long dreamed of, and most cherished, project: converting the electronic Dropbox system that my genius predecessor, Paisley Currah, set up, God love him—a filing system so sophisticated and insane, only John Nash could understand it—into something more manageable that I can pass onto my successor when I step down as chair (yay!) at the end of the spring semester.
This is the legacy I’m most proud of: not our battles for academic freedom, not our internal reforms and transformations of the department, but this massive housekeeping effort.
Alas, only my mother will appreciate it.
16.
I’ve been waiting two and half years to launch this document. Now it begins: “Notes For the Next Chair.”