Moderates Unite

Again, I find that this morning David Brooks speaks to my sense of unease with the new administration's early moves. About all I can say for our President is that he is within the first 45 days. As I emailed to my friend Prince Charles of Birmingham yesterday, What choice do we have?

I am struck by Brooks' observation that, "The only thing more scary than Obama's experiment is the thought that it might fail and the political power will swing over to a Republican Party that is currently unfit to wield it." So we are kind of stuck, and the quandary Brooks and I (and no doubt many others) find themselves is that we have no home.

As I said to Birmingham Charlie yesterday, I am a lifelong Republican, but of the Rockefeller variety. Somewhere along the way, my party got hijacked by a bunch of ideological "whack-jobs" with whom I find I share no values whatsoever. I long for a return to a Hamiltonian view of government, with a Constitutional mission to "promote the general welfare," in such a way that all the people benefit.

I do agree that the need to save the economy should not necessarily sweep aside the addressing of important goals, such as health care and education reform. But fiscal discipline has always been part of the Hamiltonian credo.

My faith in our new President has not entirely dissipated. But I would like to see some backup to the propeller-heads that Obama has assembled. Geithner needs an Assistant Secretary for Tax Policy, for Debt Management, for Economic Policy, and I am sure other key posts. Neel Kashkari, a Paulson holdover, is still running TARP. How long does it take to sort out the Plum Book? Probably too many casualties to the no-lobbyist, no "tax cheats" Puritanism of the new guys. As the Washington Post reported many in Washington (and in Bedminster) feel that the problems of the markets and the economy are too complex to be left to Larry Summers and Tim Geithner.

So what's my course? I am tempted to fall back on the mantra of Julian of Norwich -- "All will be well; all will be well; and all manner of thinge will be well." But she was a Anchorite and lived in a box! What did she know about credit default swaps and CMOs?

The Fox and the Hedgehog

David Brooks' column this morning  put me in mind of Isaiah Berlin's famous essay, "The Hedgehog and the Fox." The title was based on a fragment from the Greek poet Archilochus about the nature of knowledge: The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing. There is naturally lots of disagreement abut the meaning of these words. Typically, the scholars might postulate that the fox for all his cunning is defeated by the hedgehog's one defense. Berlin goes on to suggest a quite different interpretation: Essentially, this describes the differences among human beings. On one side are those who think in terms of a single organizing principle giving meaning to all that they think and experience. On the other are those who pursue many ends and ideas, very possibly unrelated and contradictory, moving through their lives operating on many levels, without any compulsion to fit their experiences or thoughts into any overarching framework. The first group constitute the "hedgehogs," the second the "foxes." Berlin proceeds to relate this to the domain of aesthetics, classifying Dante as a hedgehog, Shakespeare as a fox, Pushkin a fox and Dostoevsky as the quintessential hedgehog. I don't need to follow the meat of his essay, which goes on to explore the appropriate place of Tolstoy.

My question of the moment is: Where am I in this great dichotomy. And the corollary (because I have such deep faith that Barack Obama is the right man at the right time to lead at this turning point in American, and perhaps Human history) is where is President Obama. I note from today's survey results that I am not alone in my confidence in the President. But where are we being led? If I have developed any philosophy over the years, it is pragmatism: If it works, use it, it has meaning; and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Obama and his "propeller heads" may not have the answer, may not even know the question, but we have to wait until it plays out for at least a few bars. Too many are prepared to condemn policies and approaches out of ideological prejudgments. My tentative conclusion is that the President is the Fox-in-chief at this stage, and I believe that is the right place to be.

As for me, I too am a fox, but a pretty pitiful one. As I said last night, I believe the old saw: If you can keep your head when all about you men are losing theirs, then you probably don't understand the situation. 

The Second Coming

Reading Paul Krugman's column this morning, I was struck by the almost whispered reference to Yeats. I suddenly thought that perhaps we were at that terrifying point in the Yeatsian cycle of existence, where we will see the advent of the "rough beast." To many, the "rough beast" has already arrived – in the form of economic privation, paralyzing uncertainty and despair. In any event, it's worth recalling that prophetic ode today.

THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre 
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer; 
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; 
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, 
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere 
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned; 
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst 
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand; 
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand. 
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out 
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi 
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand; 
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man, 
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, 
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it 
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds. 
    The darkness drops again but now I know 
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep 
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, 
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, 
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The New Old Science

I particularly liked Dennis Overbye's essay in today's NY Times. The values he attributes to the scientific method – honesty, doubt, respect for evidence, openness, accountability and tolerance and indeed hunger for opposing points of view – are all values I hold dear to my heart, and are among the values I saw President Obama embodying during his campaign.

We can have no crystal ball to tell us where all this change will lead. Life itself is a kind of scientific experiment, and I must remain open to the possibilities this moment may bring to me. 

Rev. Lowery's Benediction

Rev. Joseph Lowery's benediction was so moving and such a high point of January 20th, that I couldn't resist setting it out in my journal. You can also watch and listen to it here.

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.
We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.
We pray now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.
He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.
Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.
For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.
We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.
And while we have sown the seeds of greed — the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.
And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.
And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.
Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.
We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone.
With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.
Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen.

The opening lines of Rev. Lowery's benediction come from the hymn, now a Gospel standard, "Lift Every Voice and Sing":

Lift every voice and sing, till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise high as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us;
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod, bitter the chastening rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died; 
Yet with a steady beat, have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered;
We have come, treading our path thru the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past, till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears,
Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by thy might led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we meet thee;
Lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee;
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand,
True to our God, true to our native land.

Words: James Weldon Johnson (1871-1938)

Music: J. Rosamond Johnson (1873-1954)

You can hear it here, rendered by Chip Days.

But the best part is Rev. Lowery's peroration, an inspired take-off on Big Bill Broonzy's blues song "Black, Brown & White."

Cromwell Dissolves the Long Parliament

It was suggested after I posted Wolsey's Farewell from Henry VIII that another, perhaps more appropriate, send-off was Oliver Cromwell's words dissolving the Long Parliament in 1653:

It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.

Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter'd your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth?

Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil'd this sacred place, and turn'd the Lord's temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress'd, are yourselves gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors.

In the name of God, go!

In any event, Tuesday was a wonderful day not only for supporters of President Obama (i.e., 80% of the American People) but also for those of us (probably the same 80%) overwhelmingly gratified to see the back of GWB and his cronies.

Farewell to GWB

Dana Goia, outgoing Director of the National Endowment for the Arts, suggested the following selection -- Cardinal Wolsey's farewell speech from Shakepeare's Henry VIII. I think it conveys a wonderfully apt thought for us who remain behind: 

   Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes’ favours!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have:
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.