Of course I was pleased by the outcome of the Brexit vote. I’m quite unable to assess the economic implications, but I’m pretty sure that from the political point of view, the EU is a monster, and any blow delivered to it is a Good Thing.

Naturally, all of my liberal, and most of my Lefty, friends think otherwise. This puzzles me a bit.

Partly, I suppose, it’s just knee-jerk anti-Rightism. Undoubtedly many of the Brit exitees were ‘conservatives’, in one sense of the word or another; many, no doubt, motivated, entirely or in part, by racism or bigotry or anti-immigration sentiment(*). And libs and lefties are no more immune than anybody else to the intellectual error of reversing the sign: I’m against whatever the other team is for, and vice versa.

But then perhaps I’m doing the same thing. It’s clear that our rulers are very much in favor of these big unelected transnational economic constructs, and in general push for a borderless world, subject to no sovereignty or inspection but their own, for them; and a world full of barbed-wire fences, checkpoints, walled-off austerity camps (like Greece) and panoptic surveillance, for us. TPP, NAFTA, EU: same story, over and over.

So am I just reversing the sign on the oligarchs’ grand strategy, and assuming anything that’s good for them is bad for us? Of course, there is a case to be made that in this instance it really is a zero-sum game; that they live by exploiting us, and the better they live, the more we’ll be exploited.

Still, perhaps there are things they like that really are neutral, or even beneficial, even to us. Standard railway gauge, stuff like that.

Then of course there’s a venerable Marxist idea that the bourgeoisie’s triumphal disruption of national boundaries and national consciousness paves the way for a corresponding self-emancipation and universalizing self-realization by the proles. It’s a glorious vision – the locus classicus of course is Marx’s wonderful, soul-stirring preamble to the Manifesto – and I do wish it would happen, but it seems to be taking its time.

Meanwhile the oligarchs stride from triumph to triumph, and each time one of their seven-league boots touches the ground, millions of us are crushed under it.

Perhaps I’m taking the short view here, but until the universal proletariat an und für sich awakes from its long slumber in mere potentiality, I am strongly inclined to applaud any sabot that happens to fall into the juggernaut’s machinery, no matter whose foot it came from.

If nothing else, it shows that our masters are not omnipotent.


(*) They’re not the same thing; but that’s a topic for another post.

Prepare the way, O Zion…

… which is actually a very fine Advent hymn in the little marginal sect I grew up in — tempus imperfectum, prolatio maior. I have brutally, unfeelingly repurposed its incipit here.

Apparently the embedded neocons in Foggy Bottom are feeling their oats, with the near-certain prospect of Hillary in the White House. (The Clintons: Season Two.) Fifty or so of them recently signed onto an internal cable advocating for open war with Syria. The smart money thinks that Kerry is with ’em; no doubt he likes being Secretary of State and would like to continue in that capacity.

The idea here, I suppose, is to create a climate of hysteria and a sense of urgency, such that Hillary can send the Marines as soon as she’s inaugurated; and it will look like she’s moving decisively to address an acknowledged, acute problem — even the cookie-pushers are worried! — rather than simply droning away, predictably, like the Israel Lobby stooge she always has been.

Naturally, this means making Obie look bad: Mister Feckless, who’s been reluctant to lance the Alawite boil, on behalf of our good friends in Israel and Saudi Arabia. Hillary, of course, will show no such hesitation.

I suspect she doesn’t mind making him look bad. He deprived her, eight years ago, of what she considered rightfully hers; so I dare say there’s no love lost on either side.

Obie, unfortunately, seems to be such a team player and organization man that he will take it all like the good sport he is. “It’s Her Turn”, in the White House, and his in the barrel.

There are always the memoirs, of course. Perhaps absurdly, I continue to hope that they will reveal a streak of bloody-mindedness, on Obie’s part, which so far has only shown itself against our subject peoples.

Radio silence


Ever since Hillary’s recent show of solidarity with Trump, I’ve noticed a very gratifying diminution in the number of shrill, contumacious, imperative emails and facebook posts from her fans. (Unless maybe they’ve all just un-friended me.) I’m sure they’ll all still vote for her, and perhaps they’ll be back in full cry again before I can finish this post, but for the moment the silence is intensely refreshing. Tumbleweeds. Crickets. So nice to hear them again.



This just in:

Hillary Clinton on Monday broke from President Barack Obama in referring to the terrorist attack as “radical Islamism,” countering Donald Trump’s accusations that both she and Obama are weak on tackling terrorist threats.

… Trump quickly claimed credit on Twitter for Clinton’s use of the term. “I have been hitting Obama and Crooked Hillary hard on not using the term Radical Islamic Terror. Hillary just broke-said she would now use!” he said.

Clinton’s comments on Monday mark an evolution for her. After the San Bernardino terrorist attack, Clinton in December said she was fine using “radical jihad” but was not fond of using the term “radical Islam.”

She really is utterly shameless, isn’t she? Dog-faced, as Homer puts it.

I feel sure that Trump is correct in taking credit. I daresay this is what the campaign will turn out to be: Hillary calling Donald names, with increasingly hysterical vehemence, and at the same time tailing after him on every point of substance and symbolism. The Clintons invented this strategy, and gave it its name: ‘triangulation’.

If you’re a hammer, every problem looks like a nail

Hillary’s response to the Orlando massacre:

“For now, we can say for certain that we need to redouble our efforts to defend our country from threats at home and abroad,” she said. “That means defeating international terror groups, working with allies and partners to go after them wherever they are, countering their attempts to recruit people here and everywhere, and hardening our defenses at home. It also means refusing to be intimidated and staying true to our values.”

We can’t say we haven’t been warned. ‘Hardening our defenses”! Good grief. What can she possibly mean by that?

Mr Peace Prize strikes again


From the New York Times:

President Obama inched closer this week to allowing American forces to once again directly battle the Taliban, loosening restrictions on airstrikes and on ground combat….

The president’s decision to expand the military’s mission just seven months before he leaves office signaled just how far the United States remains from achieving his goal of ending the American military role in Afghanistan.

The whole thing is worth reading. It’s word salad. The excerpt above typifies, but it goes on and on, in much the same incoherent vein. Obie wants to end ‘the US role in Afghanistan’, but as a lame duck — a President with nobody to answer to, whose decisions will have no consequences for him — he doubles down, and gives the colonels and the majors a free hand. With predictable consequences. Unlike the generals, these are people with careers still to make; very eager and motivated killers.

Paradox, you think? I think not. The solution is not far to seek. Obie is an Organization Man, a deeply loyal Democrat. He’s adhering to the party line here; and as a cursory glance at history will show, the Democrats never met a war they didn’t like.

He’s also doing Hillary a favor, of course. When she’s inaugurated, she will have inherited the mess, and won’t need to bear the responsibility for expanding the war.

By the way, in the print edition, which a few old ladies on the Upper West Side still read, this story was on Page 7, with a very uninteresting graphic to accompany it. This is long-established form for the Times, which does occasionally report the good stuff, but also always finds a way to bury it.

What must it be like to work for that outfit, I wonder. I suppose it’s like splitting the difference. We did run the story, so we’re not complete liars. But also, we made sure nobody would read it, except Noam Chomsky, who reads everything; so we’re also team players.

The victory lapdogs


Now that Hillary is the officially declared victor in the (endless) Democratic Party primaries, you might think that those who backed her all along might be gracious in victory. But no such thing. The effect has been, it seems to me, quite the opposite: winning has made them even more anxious, vindictive, snide, contemptuous, and bossy than they were before. The lesser-evil brass band, which was already operating at deafening volume even before California, far from taking a little intermezzo, or even a diminuendo, promptly dialed itself up well past eleven. I thought they were browbeating me before, but now? It’s a serious assault on one’s sanity to check e-mail.

What’s this about?

I suspect some of my friends who were balls-to-the-wall for Hillary may perhaps have had a lingering doubt in their minds. I suspect they may have been willing, in the privacy of their own chamber, late at night, to contemplate the idea that Hillary is a crook; a tool of Wall Street; an ardent coadjutor of Bibi Netanyahu; an individual eager to kill people with drones; a person who really wants it to be her finger on the trigger, and can’t wait to pull it; in short, somebody whom no decent person would touch with a bargepole.

I suspect that these disquieting intimations may have been laid to rest by the California result. The people have spoken, the system worked, and so on. Never mind how contrived the system is. We learned in high school that no better system is possible, so there.

So my friends feel newly… justified? Vindicated? And of course as we all know, these sentiments are not good for peoples’ character. They don’t often make people generous. They usually make people arrogant. Perhaps that’s what’s happening here

Okay, that settles it.


Thomas Friedman, shown above looking (quite undeservedly) a bit like Uncle Joe Stalin, has ‘risen to the defense’ of Hillary Clinton. So I will be breaking the habits of a lifetime this November and voting… for Donald Trump.

Of course it’s a futile gesture. I live in New York, a state the Clintons bought and paid for years ago. But it will do for me the only thing that voting ever does for anybody: namely, make me feel better.

Now this decision has led to a curious self-discovery: namely, that I do in fact take voting seriously, though yesterday I would have told you I didn’t.

I seem to recall that Alex Cockburn told a story about his father, Claud, and the latter’s advice to a fellow-Commie who wanted to marry a Catholic girl. The other comrade was balking at signing some paper the Church wanted you to sign in those days. Claud’s response was that the comrade was clearly taking the Church too seriously, and respected an oath far more than any good Commie ought to do.

Bracing, eh?

But I’m like Claud’s weaker comrade in this respect. In some way it seems that I regard voting as a kind of collusion. You vote for somebody, then you’ve sorta signed on with ’em.

So I’m trying to take Claud’s advice and work this faiblesse out of my system. Stop moralizing, stop worrying so much about your soul, Smith. Treat the damn thing as the imbecile charade it is. Get some fun out of it.

So here’s my case for Trump as the Lesser Evil:

  • The guy is a blowhard and a loon. We have no idea what we would do. But we know exactly what Hillary would do. Regression to the mean suggests that almost any unknown X would be better than known Hillary.
  • He’ll be utterly ineffectual, whatever he wants to do, whereas Hillary might actually have a chance to achieve something. I don’t recall to whom we owe the concept of ‘the less effective evil'(*) — as distinct from ‘the lesser evil’ — but it seems germane.
  • People are always telling me that Trump is a fascist and he would bring the US closer to fascism. But they’re all fascists, and the US is already a fascist society. Of course this is a gradient, and you might say we’re not as fascist as Germany was in say 1939. And you might be right. But whoever becomes president this November will move us further down the road. Will Hillary move us faster, or will Trump? See point 2 above.

(*) A kind reader points out that it was the wonderful Glen Ford of Black Agenda Report.

True colors


Occasionally people send me links to those undercranked little chalk-talks that Bobby Reich does. Sometimes they’re not so bad. He’s clearly an intelligent guy, intelligent enough to grasp the obvious — which is actually a more rare quality than you might think — and tactless enough to say it. Sometimes.

But the apple doesn’t fall far from the Clintonian tree. Bobby was an understrapper of Bill’s, in the first CLinton regime. He has a pretty cushy job now, and I have no reason to believe that he wants to be back in Washington.

(Who would? But people do. Go figure.)

He recently delivered a very sharp little spanky to Bernie fans. Lasciate ogni speranza, was more or less the burden of his song:

My advice for Sanders supporters: Be prepared to work hard for Hillary Clinton if she gets the nomination…. Which brings me to those of you who say there’s no real difference between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.

That’s just plain wrong…. Trump could do huge and unalterable damage to America and the world…

[Y]our conscience should know that a decision not to vote for Hillary, should she become the Democratic nominee, is a de facto decision to help Donald Trump….

[M]y morsels of advice may be hard to swallow….

But swallow it you must—not just for the good of the Democratic Party, but for the good of the nation.

“Swallow it you must!” That’s the real, authentic note, isn’t it? The scolding, admonitory, schoolmasterish note that the Democratic Party has lately perfected. I suppose it is both familiar and congenial to people who Did Well In School.

Which is, come to think of it, about the only constituency the Democratic Party has left.

Ignoramus (in the etymological sense)


Day by day the hysteria mounts. I really don’t know how my Hillariphile friends can possibly keep this up for the next — what (*counts on fingers*) — five months. Surely there is a limit. Surely, even Chicken Little must take a break, now and then, from preaching the gospel of ruet-coelum.

No sign of it so far, however. The crescendo relentlessly crescendoes. We got past quadruple-forte sometime last week –even the elephants in Verdi’s orchestra have Trumpeted themselves hoarse, and the timpani-skins are shredded. I fear that my friends won’t have any throats left after November.

Doubtless, however, the injured tissues will have healed well enough, a year or two into Clintrump’s first term, that the choir will start tuning up again, for the next upcoming quadrennial apocalypse. They may sound a little ragged and rusty, but you’ve got to give them an ‘A’ for effort.

Something I now notice a lot: my friends are playing the ignorance card. I suppose this is a by-product of the Sanders campaign. Old Dobbin has at least exposed Hillary as the reactionary corporatist warmonger she is. Given that, what have we to fall back on?

Answer: Trump’s ignorance. Q: Can you find Zanzibar on the map, Mr Trump? A: Fuck you. I can look it up.

I don’t suppose anybody has asked Hillary to find Zanzibar on a map, and while I’m not entirely sure she could, the smart money would bet on her as a Jeopardy contestant over the small-fingered chap from Queens.

So: Trump is ignorant, and Hillary is well-informed. My friends like well-informed. They all went to college. Depressing, I know. What happened to my friends who didn’t go to college? Oh, that’s right, I only meet them on the boat, where they have saved my bacon more than once.

Time to get on the boat and turn off the radio.