How you holding up?
I've been writing pretty regularly, but recently it's all been happening too quickly. But more than that – none of it seems real or on-purpose. It reminds me of the kid with a behavioral disorder who just couldn't cope with school that day, for some collection of reasons, and lashed out verbally and physically at a constantly-changing and seemingly-random set of targets. Greenland? You need a more restrictive environment and therapy, dude.
There was a point in the last few weeks when that reality shifted, and it really did seem like a demented kabuki, some surrealist novel with no meaning or resolution. More importantly, maybe, was the fact that this shift revealed that there really isn't anything substantial driving all this, other than psychopathology. Suddenly – and this was weird – I was angry at any journalist or analyst who took anyone or any activity in the Executive Branch seriously. Taking them seriously assumes there are real, thoughtful answers to serious policy questions, which gives them way more credit than they deserve, because it's all just a hollow flailing-about by children who need some professional supervision. Treating anything coming out of Washington as serious just fuels their fantasies. And that's what's happening – we're being governed by fantasy.
So how do you write about all this? I haven't figured it out yet. There is nothing important or interesting to say about the Greenland affair because there's nothing rational behind it. There's nothing to write about ICE in Minnesota because there are no decisions being made that relate even a little bit to the real world or the lives of real human beings. And the Epstein files are like an alien war fleet which orbits the Earth endlessly without ever actually doing anything.
This respite from constant analysis and 12 dimensional chess has allowed me to take a broader view of Where We Are, including seeing it as history. If we return to 'normal' (minus all the permanent damage that has been done and will be done in the next three years) then this last decade will, I hope, be seen as a bizarre, low-probability-but-there-it-is unfortunate incident – like Preston Brooks on steroids – and an object lesson in trust.
This horrible decade has given us an interesting perspective into the intellectual and moral context of the Founding Fathers. When inventing America and the new American form of government, there was a lot to figure out. Democracy was not a slam dunk. They considered establishing a monarchy. They considered giving the Executive a lot more power. Eventually, separation of powers and checks and balances prevailed.
But after putting aside the idea of monarchy and a strong Executive, they did just about nothing to prevent it in the future. What we are seeing in the Executive now is a direct result of the Founding Fathers' trust. They apparently looked around at each other, assuming all future Presidents would come from this socioeconomic subset (and, indeed, the first five Presidents were Founding Fathers, and the sixth was the son of a Founding Father*), and decided that nothing needed to be done. After all, they were all gentlemen. Anyone who got to be President would, naturally, know how to comport himself. No limits or restrictions on the Executive were necessary, not even consequences for violating the Constitution itself. And, of course, Trump vs. the US put the last nail in that particular coffin.
So I also hope that history will record that when we all recovered from the degradation of the past ten years (and the coming three), we got to work to make sure it never happened again. I hope we learn the lesson and use it to forge a more robust Constitution which reflects our need for a certain type of President rather than anyone who can whip up a crowd with lies and felonies.
* - And, ironically perhaps, the seventh President, Andrew Jackson, was by far the most Trump-like of all of them (racism, genocide, corruption, political divisiveness). To understand the dark side of the American experience, just consider that this man is on the $20 bill. Harriet Tubman, where are you? Let's go!