Kristol Clear #105

After the Dark Week
 
In the old, prehistoric, almost unimaginable pre-Internet days, a “dark week” was really a week off–no print magazine, no pressing deadlines, a chance to catch up. Even then, of course, other obligations and activities meant one never seemed to catch up as much as one had planned. Now, with weeklystandard.com operating 24/7, and especially in the midst of a presidential campaign where all is not (spoiler alert!) going smoothly, one catches up, or even catches one breath, even less.
 
Not to complain! All of us at TWS feel lucky to have the jobs we do. (If anyone wants to speak up to the contrary, go ahead…you’re fired!) And so as we reassemble for our weekly editorial meeting, we’ll get back to serious work–trading stories from our week off, swapping family and friends updates, discussing the NCAA tournament (has Fred Barnes recovered from the total collapse yesterday of his Virginia Cavaliers?), and debating the merits of the new Batman v. Superman movie. We’ll also be planning this week’s issue, sharing thoughts on the fate of the Republican party, and considering whether our generous travel budget permits John McCormack, when he goes to Wisconsin tomorrow to cover the crucial primary there, to upgrade to a Holiday Inn Express from his normal Red Roof Inn.
 
One of my colleagues (who will remain nameless, for obvious reasons) likes to exclaim, when we return from a dark week, that he’s relieved to be back in the office, because “family vacation” is so exhausting. Without endorsing such a familially incorrect opinion, I do look forward to our meeting today. I always learn something from my colleagues. Some of what I learn is even true….

 
How was my dark week, you ask? Actually, it was fun. I did catch up some. And then, on Friday, I had a speech in South Florida. When my return flight was cancelled and I was re-booked on a later one, my host drove me to Donald Trump’s country club, Mar-a-Lago, to look around. He took a photo of me at the entrance, which I posted on Twitter, letting Donald know that I’d enjoyed my visit, and that Mar-a-Lago seemed a pleasant (if a bit tacky) second-tier club. I haven’t looked yet to see if Donald has responded to my provocation–but I have instructed the receptionist at the office to let me know if someone turns up from his law firm with what look like legal papers.
 
In any case, the visit to South Florida included a breakfast and a lunch with various political and business types from the area, several of whom knew Donald. It was all off the record, but I can say what I learned generally reinforced my sense a) that he shouldn’t be underestimated, and b) that he shouldn’t be president.
 
After getting back from Florida late Friday, we had a busy weekend–a family engagement party Saturday in Philadelphia, and the wedding of the son of old friends here in the D.C. area Sunday (with ABC’s This Week in between–you can watch the roundtable here). Both were happy and cheerful occasions, and an excellent break from worrying about the future of the republic. Which I return to doing today…. 


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A couple of conversations
 
Speaking of the future of the republic, I have two new conversations from the Foundation for Constitutional Government to recommend to help you think about that weighty topic. Both are with Harvard professors, but despite that I think you’ll find them lively and thought-provoking.
 
Just released today is a conversation with Stephen Rosen, an old friend, grad school roommate, and one of the most thoughtful students of international relations and American foreign policy around. Steve and I discuss the current geopolitical environment and challenges to the United States from the chaos in the Middle East, European retrenchment, Russian aggression, and the rise of China, among other things. You might find the last part of the discussion particularly helpful, where Steve recommends some classic and recent books that can help us think about foreign policy.
 
A couple of weeks ago, the FCG released a conversation with Robert D. Putnam, a student of American society and culture whose conclusions dovetail to a considerable degree with those of our friend Charles Murray. Putnam has written widely on the decline in America’s civic life, and, with it, our capacity for self-government. In this conversation, Putnam discusses his research on declining levels of civic participation in America and presents his interpretation of the reasons for it.
 
I think you might find both of these worth a listen. 
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A Tikvah summer program
 
Despite the presence of professors like Steve Rosen and Bob Putnam, our young people often don’t get the education they need or deserve at our colleges and universities. That’s why efforts to help students educate themselves outside our colleges, either at summer programs, on online, or elsewhere, are so important. So do let anyone who’d be interested know about this Tikvah Summer Institute for college students on The Spirit of Jewish Nationalism, from August 7, 2016-August 12, 2016. This is an intensive one-week institute for college students that will explore the moral and spiritual roots of Jewish nationalism and the current intellectual and strategic challenges confronting the modern Jewish state. During the institute, students will study the careers and intellectual legacies of the great thinkers and statesmen of Jewish nationalism, both ancient and modern, and engage in a close reading of George Eliot’s great Zionist novel, Daniel Deronda. Admission will include room, board, and a $500 stipend.
 
If you know someone interested, pass on this link to the Tikvah website.

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Mozart
 
And finally, I happened to hear the Met’s performance of Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro while driving to Philly Saturday. Which reminded me that this year is the 260th anniversary of Mozart’s birth, and that on his 250th we had an excellent article by Fred Baumann that deserves to be read by those who happened not to be subscribers then–or re-read by those who were. Here’s a link, and a highlight of Baumann’s argument:

That is, listening to Mozart calls to mind (and in some ways turns you into) a certain kind of person, a more complicated sort than we mostly go in for today. Not a redemptive Wagnerian hero or cynical slacker, not a high-minded virtuoso of compassion and/or righteous indignation, not a “realist” or an “idealist,” but someone who both acknowledges, lives in, accepts the viewpoint of, and participates in,all human feelings–even the ugly ones, as we see in the marvelous revenge arias given to the Count, Dr. Bartolo, and Figaro–but who also, in the end, maintains as sovereign the viewpoint of rationality and order. (That is why, in their own ways, all three of those arias are comedic, even the Count’s, which is also partly genuinely scary.)
 
In invoking, and to some degree creating, such a person, Mozart implicitly makes a kind of moral case, a case for how we should live. It is not “aesthetic” in the sense of replacing the moral with formal beauty; it is much closer to what we find in Shakespeare’s Tempest or Measure for Measure; i.e., models of a kind of control of the passions that gives them their due.

 
Read the whole thing. In my editorial in that issue of TWS, I quoted the British critic, W.J. Turner, who wrote in 1938.

The truth is that we mediocre men cannot even imagine what it is to be a great man like Mozart and Shakespeare and thus to be free from the domination of the contemporary prejudices, beliefs, morals, artistic rules, scruples (call them what you will) with which even the most enlightened of us are–often unconsciously–obsessed.

And I continued,

Mozart is light and grave, pretty and profound, masculine and feminine, comic and tragic–often all in the same work. This seems particularly clear in the great operas written in collaboration with Lorenzo da Ponte. The Marriage of Figaro is a comic opera, but like many of Shakespeare’s comedies, it’s a short step from tragedy. Don Giovanni pretends to be a moralizing tragedy, Così fan Tutte a demoralizing comedy–but both are like Shakespeare’s “problem plays,” neither clearly comic nor tragic. Turner observes: “What puzzles the average person is just this strange blend of the tragic and the comic. Most people like to have these elements carefully separated into different works of art so that they may feel safe. They are prepared to look upon life as either a comedy or a tragedy, since in such a presentation life is made a little less real and provides a form of escape, a convention or refuge. One may thus laugh or weep to the full, knowing in one’s heart that life is not quite like this; it is neither so comic nor tragic.”

So, if you’re depressed by Trump–listen to Mozart! 

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Onward!

Bill Kristol

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