Tag: politics

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Trumpian Eroticism and the Politics of Passion

Fresno Bee, March 9, 2025

How Donald Trump and Elon Musk inspire passions feared by America’s Founding Fathers

American politics has become deeply erotic. Often, this manifests as love — as when Elon Musk recently tweeted, “I love Trump, as much as a straight man can love another man.” In his recent address to Congress, President Donald Trump said: “People love our country again, it is very simple.” He extolled the “faith, love and spirit” of the American people, who “will never let anything happen to our beloved country.”

To say that Trump is an erotic leader does not mean he is “sexy.” Rather, the point is that he provokes. Trump inflames the emotions — whether you love him or hate him. He is the kind of person about whom it is nearly impossible to remain indifferent. He arouses rather than enlightens.

The erotic element shows up in various ways. Fealty and devotion of the Muskian sort are obviously forms of love. Nepotism and cronyism are erotic ways of distributing power to faithful friends and family members. In such arrangements, it does not matter whether things are fair or reasonable, nor does it matter whether people are good. Rather, what matters is love and connection.

Trump is making American politics a game of seduction and power — a spectacle driven by passion. Part of this is public performance. As Trump was berating Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy the other day, he said, “This is going to be great television.” The play of passion is enthralling and compelling: you can’t look away.

In a comment on the Zelenskyy episode, Canadian novelist Stephen Marche suggested we are witnessing “rule by performers,” and what he calls “histriocracy,” the rule of the “histrionic,” — the melodramatic, theatrical or emotional. Indeed, Trump is a master of spectacles, and he knows how to keep us watching.

The erotic art of arousal can be useful in business and in politics. But it is quite different from a more sober-minded or rational approach to the world.

The distinction between the erotic and the rational is as old as Plato, who worried that unbridled eros (sexual love or desire) would destroy a good city, and that passion would undermine justice. He warned that when eros rules a city (or a soul), it is like being drunk or mad. The rule of the erotic leads to lawlessness, frenzy and tyranny. Plato hoped rationality could control the passions, but he knew that eros was a powerful force.

Sober-minded folks view political discourse as an earnest discussion of justice, virtue and truth. Rational politics is sincere, honest and moderate. In the Platonic government, careful thinkers would deliberate using logical arguments that rest upon a bedrock of first principles and unassailable truths.

Passionate politics is different. It values histrionic performances that elicit emotional responses. Here, the participants seduce and cajole with the goal of achieving popular acclaim — which is, after all, a kind of love. The erotic approach rejects sedate sincerity in favor of impassioned public displays of power and affection. Erotic politics is more interested in glory than in goodness, and it encourages inspiring fantasy rather than dull deliberation.

Political eros is chaotic and unreasonable. Sometimes, it even becomes vulgar and obscene. The risk that passion will become excessive is part of what makes it exciting and fun. That’s why sober-minded rationalists don’t understand its allure and worry that the excitement of eros will lead to dangerous excess.

John Adams once warned about the “overbearing popularity” of “great men.” He said, “Ambition is one of the more ungovernable passions of the human heart. The love of power is insatiable and uncontrollable.”

Adams and the other Founding Fathers created a system of checks and balances to restrain the erotic element. Rationalists like Adams think that laws should rule, rather than love. They view passionate personalities as dangerous, and in need of restraint.

Eroticism sees such sober rationalism as boring and shallow. Typically, devoted lovers remain enamored of their charismatic champion — despite their flaws and lawlessness — and because of his passion. Indeed, those flaws may make this figure more beloved.

In erotic politics, people are wedded to the person of the leader, warts and all. This astounds sober-minded defenders of virtue and the rule of law. But in erotic politics, it makes perfect sense to remain devoted to the beloved, since love is love, no matter what.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article301565739.html#storylink=cpy

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Tragic Wisdom for Turbulent Times

Fresno Bee, Nov. 16, 2024

The American electoral scene offers some lessons in wisdom: When Trump lost in 2020, Republicans went mad with accusations of a stolen election. Now, it is Democrats who are outraged and wailing in grief and anger.

These wild swings of emotion are a sign of a culture out of balance. Our world is afflicted by an immoderate temper and a lack of wisdom. Part of the problem is the expectation that things will always work out as we want them to. But it is not true that everything happens for a reason, nor is it true that the arc of the universe bends toward justice or that progress and enlightenment are inevitable.

Progress is painstaking and never guaranteed. The crooked timber of humanity cannot be made straight. Corrupt individuals seize power, people make unwise decisions and sometimes evil triumphs over good.

Most of the world’s wisdom traditions affirm this tragic insight: The first truth of Buddhism is that life is suffering, and Christianity requires a bloody sacrifice to wash away the wages of sin.

We should not be surprised when things go wrong. The political world is not a morality play written by a benevolent author. Rather, history unfolds by hook and by crook, as mortal men struggle for power. Acknowledging this ugly feature of human reality can provide some comfort. Suffering is par for the course and no one can escape the agony of defeat.

In stormy times, it helps to consult the tragic wisdom of the ancient philosophers. Aristotle teaches that happiness requires a rare conjunction of wisdom and good fortune. He reminds us to count no one happy until they are dead. He meant that decades of good luck can be destroyed in an instant when things go horribly wrong. And, in fact, Aristotle had to flee for his life as Athens collapsed around him.

The Stoic philosophers cultivated similarly tragic soil. The Roman Stoic Seneca advises us to distrust prosperity, to prepare for adversity and to realize that fortune will do whatever she pleases. Like Aristotle, Seneca was buffeted by political misfortune (he was ordered to kill himself by the emperor Nero).

Stoic sages advise us to stop wailing and complaining. Do not be disturbed by the way things are. Things rarely work out according to plan. This is simply the way of the world. There is nothing you can do about history and the larger forces of the universe.

But you can control your own virtue. You have the power to choose how you respond to life’s tragedies. Key values here are courage, fortitude, resilience and tenacity.

It is important to avoid the despair and anger that appear when we find out that it’s not “all good.” If you expect everything to work out as you want it to, you will be sorely disappointed. You may be tempted to give up or lash out in furious frustration, but it is wiser to acknowledge that things often do go wrong.

Prepare for the worst, and do your best. The only thing in your control is the way you react to life’s vicissitudes.

It is also useful to give thanks when things go well. The good times should be greeted as welcome exceptions rather than the norm. There is usually something to be grateful for, even in a storm.

You should also forgive yourself when you fail. Everyone fails. It’s not easy to be good, so when you do fail, don’t beat yourself up about it — failure is par for the course. The heroes of living respond to failure with tenacity and they keep working at living well, even when the odds are against them.

The true test of character is not found in success. It is found in how well you recover from defeat.

Tragic wisdom offers consolation. Truth, virtue and happiness are rare commodities. The good is often overpowered by falsehood and vice. In this vale of tears, a good life is not guaranteed. It is unusual for intelligence, righteousness and good fortune to converge. But in understanding the fragility of goodness, we discover wisdom. And if we work at it, we can find the strength to remain upright in the face of the storm.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article295556909.html#storylink=cpy

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Flags and signs and the need for dialogue

By politicizing our front yards, are we increasing polarization and isolation?

Fresno Bee, Sept. 7, 2024

Flags, signs and bumper stickers are expressive. But they are not persuasive. The slogans and symbols of the campaign season risk driving us deeper into our silos.

In my neighborhood, political flags are popping up like mushrooms. A house on a corner lot flies two large Trump flags, one on each side. Across the street, a Harris-Walz yard sign glares back. Around the corner, another yard sign says “Country Over Party.” Every so often, you still see those “Science is Real, Black Lives Matter” signs. Some houses wave the rainbow flag. And on a main street nearby, a “God, Guns and Trump” flag plays in the breeze.

I worry that by politicizing our front yards we increase our polarization and isolation. In a typical California neighborhood, folks go from car to house without talking to one another. Fences and hedges keep us apart. Flags and yard signs are often the only form of communication between neighbors. But rather than inviting conversation, political placards act as cudgels and shields.

These political banners are prime examples of one-way communication. Like a sermon, they proclaim without listening. They broadcast an idea or an identity, and they make an argument. They do not, however, inquire into the ideas and identities of others. These are badges of a fixed affiliation. They are monologues that do not invite dialogue.

About a hundred years ago, the philosopher Martin Buber published a famous book, “I and Thou,” that celebrated genuine dialogue. Buber understood dialogue as a way of turning toward each other. The etymology of “conversation” is instructive — it means “turning with” or “turning together.” A genuine conversation involves reciprocity, hospitality and openness. It also requires a sustained face-to-face interaction that can’t be reduced to a slogan.

The art of dialogue and conversation is missing in a society of one-sided communication. Social media encourages this. As does a world of cars, fences and media silos. Instead of turning toward other people, we turn inward. We label others without ever knowing them. And we surround ourselves with like-minded voices.

Our political banners may also produce more practical problems. A recent column in “Money” asked whether political flags can affect real estate values. There is no hard data about this, but the column suggested that a political flag may influence a prospective buyer’s view of the neighborhood.

This could mean a variety of things: Some people will seek neighbors who fly friendly flags, while others may be scared away by a menacing flag. But given the housing crunch, many will simply grit their teeth and keep their heads down when they move in.

It is also possible to imagine some neighbors deliberately using flags to keep people out — or drive them away. Racists could fly flags intended to scare people off. Anti-racists could plant yard signs intended to intimidate those racists. And on it goes.

We might think that a solution is to ban such signs and flags. But in the United States, we have a right to freedom of expression. Autonomy is an important value. You are free to adorn your house or car however you want, unless your sign or flag is a true threat or outright menace.

But liberty is insufficient for a good life. Freedom ought to be understood in connection with other values. The point here is not regulation or limitation — it would be wrong to limit people’s autonomy. Rather, free expression ought to be leavened with compassion and hospitality. Decent neighbors should talk together rather than asserting themselves in a narrow-minded way.

We all ought to ask ourselves whether our flags and signs are friendly and inviting, or whether they are menacing monologues and one-sided sermons. In general, we need less isolation and more connection.

You are free, of course, to isolate and assert yourself. But genuine community occurs when you relinquish that kind of lonely liberty and turn your attention to the face of the other.

Buber suggested that mature human freedom should be responsive. This isn’t easy. It is simple enough to plant a flag and shut your door. It is much more difficult to open your door and invite your neighbor to have a conversation.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article291987905.html#storylink=cpy

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Christmas peace and the anti-political turn

Fresno Bee, December 17, 2023

Donald Trump is threatening to govern as a dictator. Joe Biden is cruising toward impeachment. And partisan bickering never seems to end. But it’s a mistake to fret too much about the absurdity of American politics.

The crises of our republic matter. We live in a broken world. But the ugly mess of political life is less important than we think. There has never been a perfect country. To obsess about politics is to fail to understand that politics cannot solve spiritual problems.

So, I disagree somewhat with Connecticut Sen. Chris Murphy, who wrote an interesting recent column on “The Spiritual Unspooling of America.” That “spiritual unspooling” includes loneliness, suicide, drug overdoses, polarization, violence and hate.

Murphy suggests that the antidote is a better kind of politics. Sure. Better politics might help. It would be nice to live in a good country led by honorable people. It would be wonderful to live in a world of harmony and peace. And we should work toward those goods. But as I argued in a recent column, humanity is constructed of “warped wood” not easily made straight.

The real solution for “spiritual disintegration” is, well, spiritual. Harmony, peace and honor have always been in short supply. Learning to accept the tragically flawed reality of political life is an essential part of wisdom. Once we understand this, we can look elsewhere to find solace and hope.

Our spiritual malaise will not be solved by better politics. Your flourishing does not depend on Trump or Biden. Politics is not the highest good. The best and most important things transcend political life. These transcendent goods include spirituality and art, love and community.

This anti-political idea is clear at Christmas. The story of the season is of a new conception of power, born of humility and existing apart from politics. Christianity teaches about a kingdom that is not of this world. Jesus was not a political leader. He raised no army and was murdered by the state. According to one important story, when Satan tempted Jesus with political power, Jesus refused.

The turn away from politics is a common theme in the world’s wisdom traditions. The Taoist sages avoided politics. Lao-Tzu, the founder of Taoism, left China because he was fed up with the hypocrisy and corruption of Chinese politics. The wisdom of Buddhism aims to cultivate nonattachment, which looks beyond the tumultuous fires of social and political life. And the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus encouraged his followers to “live unnoticed” in a garden sheltered from political turbulence.

Unfortunately, it is easy to be seduced into an obsession with politics. The partisans and the political media encourage this obsession. Political squabbles keep us glued to our screens, while helping the partisans raise money and get people to the polls, and into the streets.

But political obsession is a recipe for anxiety and despair. The more upset we become about politics, the more we focus on things that are really beyond our control. Instead of cultivating our own gardens, we get frustrated. And when things go wrong — as they always do — we end up angry and hopeless.

Rather than obsessing about politics, we need to understand that spiritual health is found in religion and other deep sources of meaning; in small local and loving communities; in music, art, and ceremony; and in connection with the wonder of nature.

Spiritual integration depends upon a set of habits that are good for body and soul. It is cultivated in silence and solitude. It is nurtured by love. It flourishes among friends and family. It blossoms when we discover wisdom, wonder and gratitude.

The bad news is that we are easily distracted by the crises of the moment. The partisans and the news cycle feed the frenzy of political frustration. The good news is that higher goods are easily obtained, if we turn off the TV and rediscover the world of nature, spirit, and loving community.

This does not mean we should drop out of political life, as Lao-Tzu did. Citizenship requires us to pay attention. And ethics demands solidarity with those who suffer.

But at Christmas, we should also remember that comfort and joy are found beyond the halls of power.

Read more at: https://www.fresnobee.com/opinion/readers-opinion/article283061398.html#storylink=cpy

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Finding Hope Beyond the Political

Or Why We Need Philosophy, Religion, and Art

Political life is limited and ultimately unsatisfying.  When we focus on the external and horizontal dimension of political life, we are bound to be frustrated.  But there are other dimensions and sources of meaning, beyond the political.

The despair of the political

The world is unjust.  Good people often suffer in misery and obscurity.  And bad folks become rich and powerful.  The social and political world is messy and frustrating.  Our imagined ideals fail to become real.  And although progress can be made, there is backlash and unfulfilled expectations. 

We inherit a broken world that conflicts with our idealism.  The dream of justice runs aground on the shards of these fragments.  The more we want to repair these ruins, the more hopeless things appear.  We also disagree about who ruined this world, why it is broken, and how it ought to be fixed. 

This sense of grievance and longing explains why the passion of the political can become shrill, dogmatic, and polarizing.  Political intensity feeds off dissatisfaction.  And when these deep emotions are frustrated long enough, there is the risk of despair.  The passion of the political dwells in the thought that if these ruins cannot be repaired, all is lost. 

Clinging to hope

To fight the despair that haunts politics, political rhetoric is often infused with what Barack Obama called “the audacity of hope.”  The best and most inspiring political speech reminds us of an imagined future in which the ideal will be actualized.

Martin Luther King, Jr. provides a well-known example.  He was aware of the problem of political despair.  In response to the disappointments of the civil rights movement, King said, , “The only healthy answer lies in one’s honest recognition of disappointment even as he still clings to hope, one’s acceptance of finite disappointment even while clinging to infinite hope.”  And: “Our most fruitful course is to stand firm, move forward nonviolently, accept disappointments and cling to hope.”

King warned that disappointment in the face of injustice can lead to bitterness, self-pity, cynicism, nihilism, and other “poisons” of the soul.  His remedy was to “cling to hope.”  This phrase is interesting.  To cling is to hold on, to try to remain committed, even as the storm rages.

Thinking in more than one dimension

As a Christian, King found a source of hope beyond the storm.  King’s hope was oriented toward another dimension, a source of meaning that exists in a realm beyond the political.  This is what Rev. Jeremiah Wright (who inspired Obama’s idea of the audacity of hope) called “the vertical dimension.”

Politics is one dimensional.  It views the self and the other on a merely horizontal dimension, failing to take into account other dimensions of life and experience.   This is bound to be dissatisfying because human beings live in more than one dimension. 

The vertical dimension is often understood in religious terms, as an axis oriented toward the divine.  But secular folks can also discover an inner dimension connected with love, beauty, or other sources of meaning found in the human experience.  The most important of these non-political axes are called art, religion, and philosophy (borrowing a set of concepts from Hegel). 

Now there is a tendency among some thoroughly political (or politicized) folks to reduce art, religion, and philosophy to politics.  Marxists explain the “ideological” in terms of material and economic conditions.  Feminists and race-conscious theorists also sometimes interpret art, religion, and philosophy from a liberatory framework.  Conservatives do this as well, when they think that art, religion, and philosophy ought to support some preferred nationalistic ideal. 

But the wonder of art, religion, and philosophy is that they burst the bounds of any politicized and reductive account of human reality.  The artist, the mystic, and the sage exist in a different dimension, oriented toward values and ideas that are not reducible to questions of justice or power. 

The example of comedy and tragedy

This may sound abstract.  So let’s consider two familiar artforms: the comedic and the tragic.  Comedy can be political.  It can be used both to liberate and to oppress.  But sometimes the comedic reveals the absurdity of existence.  And laughter can be an end-in-itself. 

Tragedy can also be employed for political purposes: to tell a story about oppression or the “triumph of the will.”  But tragedy also transcends the political.  It makes us shudder to wonder about death, evil, pride, murder, and betrayal.  Sophocles has the chorus say in Antigone (line 332): There are terrors and wonders on earth, and none is more terrible or wonderful than we humans. 

When a comedic artist reveals absurdity, we are directed beyond the political dimension toward broader reflection on the human condition.  When we laugh, and play along, we are engaged in a world of imagination, on a dimension apart from the political. The same is true, when we are moved by tragedy to see the terror and the wonder of human existence.  This act of imagination gives us a glimpse of a dimension of experience that is beyond the political. 

This act of imagination can be a source of hope, repair, and reconciliation.  It can also renew the spirit and gives us the energy to return to our struggles with better perspective, and a clearer sense of self. 

Hope beyond politics

Now a critic may suggest that this experience of transcendence comes from a position of “privilege” that is conveniently able to ignore the challenges of political reality.  But the move beyond the political is not an excuse for political indifference.  We are political animals, as Aristotle said.  And we cannot simply ignore injustice and the struggles of political life. 

But we all possess the power of human imagination.  And we can all find consolation and hope when we open our minds to those other dimensions of human experience that transcend the political.