I'm Not Calm

This degree of uncertainty makes me anxious.

I’m deep into the politics of the moment, going to political fundraisers––summer in East Hampton, quadrennial election year, there’s no shortage of opportunities. People open up their homes and I get to hear the candidates speak in small and quiet settings. And, yes, some of the settings are so gorgeous they take your breath away.

I’m giving generously to moderate Democrats who impress me with their energy and charisma and their ability to communicate. They are future leaders who need every bit of support for close races in the Senate and the House.

Debbie and I are hosting our own fundraiser in a few weeks for a future leader of the Democratic party. His campaign finance people are focused on raising money. We’re focused on that too, but we’re also worried about the weather. Twin threats of rain and heat. Event inside or outside? Game time decision.

It’s a brunch. Someone’s donating donuts. We’re working with the East Hampton police to permit parking on the street so our guests don’t get ticketed. Focusing on these details is a form of distraction. Because I’m not calm.

My Zen state last September

I was calm last September when I wrote an essay  “History Is Coming for Us and It’s Going To Hurt.”

Back then I wrote:

“…it seems to me that during my adult lifespan, from 1980 to now, America has been blessed by good fortune and been relatively unscathed by history.

We won the Cold War, and the feared Armageddon of a third world war did not come to pass. The questionable wars we did fight were far from our shores and were wars of our own choice.

While we have suffered the ethical scars of becoming a far more unequal and stratified society, the material standards of living of every strata have improved significantly.”

(My last point about rising material standards for every strata relied on blunt statistics. Contrary to what I wrote, much of the American working class feels financially insecure. See this post from two months ago.)

Back in September, looking out on history from my view atop a mountain made of sand, I noted that America always seemed to bounce back.

• September 11th was a one-time event.

• Our financial system withstood the 2008 crisis.

• Covid struck but within a year we had a vaccine and the economy recovered.

• The attempt, through lawsuits, intimidation, and finally violence, to overturn the election of 2020 failed and was for a certain time held in contempt by most Americans. Indictments of Trump were popping up all over the country.

However.

By definition streaks come to an end and history moves in cycles. With serene detachment, I pondered that at some point America’s streak would have to end.

Still, it could be possible that America is truly the Exception. I considered that POV and tried on an optimistic talking point:

“America is an unstoppable and exceptional engine of ingenuity, strength, and prosperity. Betting against America has always been a bad bet.”

I felt then and I know now I was “spitting into the whirlwind.”

The whirlwind spits back

In late September, while I was musing about the cycles of history, Hamas was preparing to launch its horrific attack on Israel a few weeks later.

While I was watching Nikki Haley win the Republican debate battle among everyone but Trump, History, with help from the courts, was demolishing any impediment to Trump achieving absolute capture of the Republican party.

The Joe Biden in my mind was the Joe Biden of 2020––I was never a fan and he was never a good communicator––but he beat Trump, and that for me was the dispositive point. But then I watched last month’s debate and saw the Joe Biden of 2024. It was a rude and painful awakening.

The thing about history is that once it happens it takes on the aura of inevitability. It's impossible to unimagine the above events, to unsee them. And not to think I was foolish to be so blasé.

So I’m agitated because right now, albeit with four months to go, Trump is poised to win the presidency. If that happens, even if the Democrats win every contested Senate seat, the Republicans will have a 51-50 Senate majority. Republicans will have a good shot at retaining control of the House.  

So there’s a real risk that the Republicans will control all the branches of government, including the Supreme Court. If that occurs, the most extreme parts of the Republican agenda are in play.

A nationwide abortion ban. Further encroachment on other crucial rights to privacy. Mass deportations. A Charles Lindbergh style of America First, isolationist foreign policy. It’s all on the table.

It may turn out to be typical political campaign bullshit exaggeration.

But this time feels different to me. Hence my angst.

I’m worried too about the potential for violence. These policies, if enacted, will be resisted at the state, local, and individual level. The failed assassination attempt on Trump could either be a one-off event with a lucky outcome or a dreadful harbinger.

A nightmare to me, a dream to others

I’m well aware that my views on the 2024 election are partisan and that nearly half the country prays for a different outcome. As a conservative¹ who is repulsed by extremist thinking on both the right and the left, I find it strange that so many Americans are willing to risk such a radical departure from norms and behavior that have served the country well.

But those on the other side of the political divide probably find my way of thinking to be equally blind and misguided. A difference, however, is that I’m not afraid to disavow the extreme wing of the Democratic party. I’m not afraid to point out the frightening age and acuity issues of Joe Biden’s candidacy or his administration’s mistakes, especially in foreign policy.

But, more often than not, when I make these concessions of moderation to Trump partisans, instead of sparking reasonable, nuanced discourse, all I’ve done is provide red meat to ravenous political fanatics certain that their man is a god on earth and all his opinions gospel.

Strange especially for some of my fellow American Jews to dance with an authoritarian whose most bedrock support comes from Christian nationalists. As if two thousand years of history had been erased from their minds. Or was never there in the first place.

Noblesse Oblige

I consider it my moral duty to do what I can to bring about the election result that bends toward justice. My main weapon is my checkbook, which may be bigger than most but is minuscule compared to mega-donors like Elon Musk, Michael Bloomberg, or George Soros.  

There is one important distinction. As a wealthy person I am opposing a Republican party that plans to prolong and enhance a tax regime that is extremely favorable to me. The wealthy donors on the other side may feel a moral duty too, but they are also trying to help themselves and their businesses. And they have said exactly that. ²

Agency

When I’m agitated about something, I try to find an action I can take to do something to quell my agitation. That’s why I’m getting involved politically and disbursing funds to the limit of my own sense of prudence. There’s comfort in being together in real life at these fundraisers with people who generally share my views and have both the means and the desire to act. ³

I’m under no illusion that my individual efforts will come close to having a statistically significant effect. But the same could be said for voting, and yet most of the country votes. I have to hope that there are enough people who feel as I do, so that together we will have an effect on the election.

The self-serving part of acting is to protect myself against remorse and self-censure if the outcomes of both the election and the policies turn out to be the worst case.

I will at least have done what I can.

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Question for the Comments: Are my fears overblown?

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Below: Breughel’s The Fall of Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the sun. Note his splashing legs in the lower right hand corner. Here is the wonderful poem by Auden that uses the paining as a way to demonstrate how life must go on in the midst of tragedy.

1. A conservative in the sense of Aristotle, disdainful of excess and praising his “golden mean.” Or Edmund Burke advocating reform, not revolution.

2. Marc Andreessen, a leading venture capitalist is supporting Trump because he views Trump as good for his business. See the start of this youtube.

3. I’m also giving to the Voter Participation Center, a 501c-3 (donations qualify as a charitable donation for tax purposes). VPC uses sophisticated data analytics to register and get out the vote in demographics that run about 70/30 in favor of Democrats––people of color, the young, and single women. I can make a fairly good estimate that my contribution will have the effect of producing a margin of a few hundred votes for the Democratic ticket in swing states.