Bernie Sanders and David Brooks, both wrong: This year of Fox News and Donald Trump-fueled rage can’t be fixed by any candidate
We are angry. We are afraid. We are exceptional. And the problem with America is that very combination
Everything was going smoothly these holidays just past. Then, on the last day of the year, David Ignatius published an opinion piece in the Washington Post that subverted the mood somewhat.
“Making New Year’s predictions is tricky in this turbulent world,” the longtime Post columnist wrote, “but here’s one fairly safe bet: The next president will propose a more assertive U.S. foreign policy.”
I had not boiled things down to quite this extent. So Ignatius got me thinking—precisely what I had looked forward to not doing for a few meager days of guilt-free ease.
Not much to think about on the Republican side, of course: To one or another degree, these people remind me ever more of Mussolini. They promise to feed Americans a more aggressive, militarized foreign policy the way hunters use red meat to bait big game in the jungle. The only interesting aspect of this phenom is why it appeals to so many of us, and I will come back to this.
Then I thought about Hillary Clinton—but again, not for long. On the foreign policy side Killary (as some take to calling her) does not make the grade even by lesser-of-evils logic. She is not the lesser of anyone else’s evil insofar as she offers us a dangerous set of policies that will ineluctably exacerbate the problems of an ever more disorderly world that, as 2016 opens, is undeniably in grave crisis. I find her current assertions that “we must lead” to avoid a vacuum a tired, nonsensical, altogether contemptible trope. I fold my arms, naturally, at the thought of voting for her.
And it is the same for Bernie Sanders, I must say with some reluctance. A picture of a Sanders campaign stop in the New York Times a week ago Monday is enough to break one’s heart. Here are these crowds of supporters, many of them younger than I and all their faces lit with smiles and glistening eyes. It will not end well for these people.
They do not seem to understand something quite fundamental. Sanders is nowhere or nowhere useful—it is one or the other—on the foreign policy questions a serious candidate ought to be answering with urgency, courage and in a loud, proud voice. This is a fatal flaw, rendering the Sanders bid for the presidency uninteresting but for the extent it may influence the conversation in years to come.
Here is the progression his flock appears to miss: Do not begin a radical renovation of our foreign policy, which means asserting control over sequestered policy cliques and submitting policy to the democratic process, and you cannot reduce the military budget. Do not reduce the military budget, and all the talk Sanders cares to indulge as to sensible domestic programs, reining in corporate power and so on will come to no more than the dreams of the impotent.
Sanders is too smart not to understand this, but he is not brave enough to face squarely the inescapable connection between foreign and domestic policies. At Consortium News, David Swanson just reviewed a book called “The Bern Identity,” by Will Bunch, and makes a persuasive case that Sanders is essentially unserious about a constructively alternative foreign policy posture. He stays safely clear of any suggestion he supports the Palestinian cause—strike three right there in my book—and is happy enough to back weapons contractors for the sake of a few jobs in Vermont.
“Bernie accepts the truly sociopathic notion that jobs (and jobs of a particular sort, as if a good socialist doesn’t know that the same dollars could produce more jobs if spent on peace) justify militarism,” Swanson writes. “Is it O.K. that that Bernie excuses Israel’s crimes because he’s Jewish?… Bernie voted against the 2003 attack on Iraq, but then worked against those in Congress trying to block funding for it. Was that the right compromise? Was that authenticity?”
What is Sanders’ point, one has to ask. I will leave this question and all of Swanson’s to the Sanders campaign to address. My point is that he is no exception to David Ignatius’ not-very-daring prediction: In the election to come we are offered only two alternatives: Either one votes in support of a foreign policy framework that has been progressively more militarized since 1945, or one does not vote.
With one exception—instantly regretted—I have chosen the latter of these alternatives since, decades ago, I was first eligible to enter a polling booth.
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What have we got in these two fields of presidential aspirants? Why is Ignatius’ simple observation as to our foreign policy to come so regrettably right?
In my read we cannot answer this question without reference to three phenomena. We have 1) the Angry American, 2) the Fearful American and 3) the Exceptional American, the American who continues to believe the Providential hand rests reassuringly on 320 million American shoulders. These are to be considered separately, but they meet at the horizon, and it is only when we get there that we can truly grasp the drivers of this election cycle and what the result next November will give us for a foreign policy.
We have been reading about angry Americans since Donald Trump and the rest of the Republican aspirants took to the field last summer. All the right-ring heavyweights on all the (right-wing) opinion pages have weighed in. George Will, David Brooks, the notably incomprehensible Bret Stephens at the Wall Street Journal: They are all either angry or writing about those who are angry or both. Often they are angry at those who are angry, for the Angry American is class-identified and is thought to lower the tone among American rightists.
The only one who resists the presence of the Angry American, so far as I know, is Paul Ryan, the new House speaker: “We’re not angry,” Ryan insists in so many words. “We have a serious agenda to put in place.” But Ryan is merely the Angry American with a human face. Harping on the unworkable legislative programs of right-wing extremists is simply his way of sublimating anger.
The grievances provoking legitimate anger among working Americans are simply too many to list. But there is one aspect of this widely shared anger that we must not miss. In the Angry American, anger and indignation coexist with paralysis. It is anger in combination with inaction, such that we can postulate: People who are angry cannot act, while people who can act are not angry. This thought I will revisit.
What rouses the Angry American is perfectly plain: To put the point a little too simply, he or she is amid a class war and he is losing it—primarily because it is said to be un-American to acknowledge class warfare in our great nation, so the Angry American is unable to defend himself properly. Corporations, corporate donors, Congress, the Supreme Court, many state governments, the executive branch by way of its new trade initiatives and other such policies: These entities and institutions wage full-dress class warfare by any other name, and all the Angry American can think to do is vote by way of a system that has been rendered a meaningless reenactment of what was once a democratic process.
The Fearful American is the Angry American’s cousin. But the two face very different circumstances.
The Fearful American has a lot on his mind, of course: There are too many immigrants from Mexico and Central America, there are refugees from countries where terrorists breed, there are terror groups such as the Islamic State, there are national leaders such as Bashar al-Assad and nations such as Russia and Iran.
The problem with this list is it consists of conjured fears. None of what I have just noted stands as a legitimate cause for fear among Americans. To his credit, President Obama suggested as much, if weakly, during his State of the Union speech Tuesday evening. But the fearful American is as right, in the end, as the Angry American. There is a fear worth considering in 2016: It is the fear that America’s claim to exceptional status—in policy terms its primacy—is coming to an end.
This is not a conjured fear. It is a real fear, and precisely because it is real it is the fear that dare not speak its name. All the conjured fears, in my read, are but more sublimations of this, the unconjured one, the one we ought to be talking about but cannot.
Anger rules, then—anger and its cousin. And neither the Angry American nor the Fearful American is permitted to give voice to the sources of his or her anger or fear—which, among those most alert to their circumstances, makes them yet angrier.
This is what the 2016 campaigns come down to. The GOP candidates are all about anger, unabashedly—and this goes for even those such as Rubio, who affect a demeanor of considered thought. The Democratic candidates, as ever, are too gutless to counter the orthodoxy in any consequential fashion. Clinton, stripped of party affiliation, is what we used to call a Rockefeller Republican. Sanders, whose thinking is far superior, nonetheless takes exquisite care to cover himself against any charge from the right that he is soft on whatever it is we must be hard on at a given moment.