This was published originally (if I recall correctly) in an issue of The Texas Review. George Garret, knowing how highly my wife and I regarded The Succession, asked me to write the piece, perhaps because he had trouble finding anyone else.
I have decided, more or less, to abandon Facebook. I told my virtual friends I’d give it a month of one-way silence, and I intend to do that, but social media are a terrible distraction. I’d rather read my stack of old Braccio di Ferro comic books. It is not just that most FB posts are stupid–they are–or ill-informed–even more so–but the invitation to people to admire their own ill-considered thoughts, to stare into the mirror they have created and admire their own imperfect complexions.
First we had C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters in 1942, a classic apologetic novel written from the perspective of a senior tempter in the service of “Our Father Below,” offering sagely advice to his nephew, Wormwood. Then we had Paul Harvey and his well-known “If I Were the Devil” audio piece from 1965.
I don’t have much to say about what happened yesterday. The people who organized the demonstration and those, like the President, who merely agitated for it, must have known that whatever took place would play into the hands of the incoming administration and the media that represents them. Even if not a single law had been broken, they would have been portrayed as sore losers who cannot accept the results of a free and fair election.
For they shall get a gold star on their forehead from the CDC.
Wisdom comes from knowledge which comes from painfully acquired information about reality—facts. Since, as you say, you have little knowledge of the current political scene and even less of history, your concerns do not really involve rational thought but are a reflection of depression, and unfortunately, this is a mental condition that leads the sufferer to be happy to see, as the French say, “tout en noir”, all in black.
The End-of-the Worlders are going from handwringing over a possibly stolen election–please don’t tell me you know it is stolen in fact because you don’t know anything of the kind–to declaring the death of the American republic. It’s the worst sort of ditto-head approach to politics. It begins by saying, “Say, this is about the best damn country that has ever existed” and go on in the vein of Babbit’s speech to the Zenith Booster Club.
“Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star…” So said the Southern secessionists of the 1860s. Even with whatever differences the leaders of the CSA were certainly a much more culturally intact group than we are presented with today, even I dare say within our own state governments.
The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold,
When shoeing home across the white,
I thought I saw a bird alight.
The Chorus, who have been obtuse throughout the play, have misunderstood Ajax’s parting words as a change of heart instead of a rueful admission that he misjudged the world he has lived in. The drama becomes more intense, when a messenger comes in to report on Teucer’s hostile reception in the Greek camp, and on the instructions he had received from Calchas the prophet NOT to let Ajax out of his hut.
