r attendant upon the death of a former president was remarkable in an alleged republic should serve to remind us all--that is, all of us commoners--of who it is that leads this nation. FDR was the last true patrician to serve in the White House. As thanks for having saved the republic, he was seen by his fellow aristocrats as a traitor to his class, as a "Rosenfeld" in WASP attire. He was followed by a haberdasher from Missouri, a talented boy from Abilene, and the Catholic son of a rum runner. Then came Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton and Bush, Jr. Not a true aristocrat in the bunch. No, the WASP aristocrats have retreated to their estates, their clubs, and their board rooms and left the dirty business of democracy to the climbers and strivers who serve them so well. No longer will they dirty their hands with the messy running of the post-modern state. Yet, if the citizenry watched the Gerald Ford Pageant carefully it could get a whiff of the way things were supposed to be: Protestant hymns mingled with martial music, a transplanted Gothic cathedral resplendent in the clear winter air, a whiff of candle smoke mingling with the perfumes and colognes heavy in the inner air of the cathedral. In the United States of America, a boy from a poor background--so humble (I believe this is the polite word) a background that he bore the name not of his natural father but of his stepfather--could rise to become the leader of the empire. And be given a king's farewell. For many days now, we have been lulled by these proceedings from the bloodletting in Iraq, lulled from contemplating the price of empire--past and present. For some, the rewards are so great, the trappings of power so intoxicating, that a few lives lost are a small price to pay. What great cathedral would have been built; what great symphony composed; or philosophical tract written without the patronage that can only be paid for by conquest? No. We are still in love with royalty, with the glitter of mirrored palaces. Our behind the scenes rulers--aghast from our very origins at the prospect of a grey, levelled society--will continue for as long as they can to cherry pick from among their lessers men and women who will serve the empire faithfully, loyally--ideally--men and women who actually believe in the dream.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
The (Former) King is Dead. Long Live the King!
George Will's remark on ABC to the effect that the majesty and grandeu
r attendant upon the death of a former president was remarkable in an alleged republic should serve to remind us all--that is, all of us commoners--of who it is that leads this nation. FDR was the last true patrician to serve in the White House. As thanks for having saved the republic, he was seen by his fellow aristocrats as a traitor to his class, as a "Rosenfeld" in WASP attire. He was followed by a haberdasher from Missouri, a talented boy from Abilene, and the Catholic son of a rum runner. Then came Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton and Bush, Jr. Not a true aristocrat in the bunch. No, the WASP aristocrats have retreated to their estates, their clubs, and their board rooms and left the dirty business of democracy to the climbers and strivers who serve them so well. No longer will they dirty their hands with the messy running of the post-modern state. Yet, if the citizenry watched the Gerald Ford Pageant carefully it could get a whiff of the way things were supposed to be: Protestant hymns mingled with martial music, a transplanted Gothic cathedral resplendent in the clear winter air, a whiff of candle smoke mingling with the perfumes and colognes heavy in the inner air of the cathedral. In the United States of America, a boy from a poor background--so humble (I believe this is the polite word) a background that he bore the name not of his natural father but of his stepfather--could rise to become the leader of the empire. And be given a king's farewell. For many days now, we have been lulled by these proceedings from the bloodletting in Iraq, lulled from contemplating the price of empire--past and present. For some, the rewards are so great, the trappings of power so intoxicating, that a few lives lost are a small price to pay. What great cathedral would have been built; what great symphony composed; or philosophical tract written without the patronage that can only be paid for by conquest? No. We are still in love with royalty, with the glitter of mirrored palaces. Our behind the scenes rulers--aghast from our very origins at the prospect of a grey, levelled society--will continue for as long as they can to cherry pick from among their lessers men and women who will serve the empire faithfully, loyally--ideally--men and women who actually believe in the dream.
r attendant upon the death of a former president was remarkable in an alleged republic should serve to remind us all--that is, all of us commoners--of who it is that leads this nation. FDR was the last true patrician to serve in the White House. As thanks for having saved the republic, he was seen by his fellow aristocrats as a traitor to his class, as a "Rosenfeld" in WASP attire. He was followed by a haberdasher from Missouri, a talented boy from Abilene, and the Catholic son of a rum runner. Then came Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton and Bush, Jr. Not a true aristocrat in the bunch. No, the WASP aristocrats have retreated to their estates, their clubs, and their board rooms and left the dirty business of democracy to the climbers and strivers who serve them so well. No longer will they dirty their hands with the messy running of the post-modern state. Yet, if the citizenry watched the Gerald Ford Pageant carefully it could get a whiff of the way things were supposed to be: Protestant hymns mingled with martial music, a transplanted Gothic cathedral resplendent in the clear winter air, a whiff of candle smoke mingling with the perfumes and colognes heavy in the inner air of the cathedral. In the United States of America, a boy from a poor background--so humble (I believe this is the polite word) a background that he bore the name not of his natural father but of his stepfather--could rise to become the leader of the empire. And be given a king's farewell. For many days now, we have been lulled by these proceedings from the bloodletting in Iraq, lulled from contemplating the price of empire--past and present. For some, the rewards are so great, the trappings of power so intoxicating, that a few lives lost are a small price to pay. What great cathedral would have been built; what great symphony composed; or philosophical tract written without the patronage that can only be paid for by conquest? No. We are still in love with royalty, with the glitter of mirrored palaces. Our behind the scenes rulers--aghast from our very origins at the prospect of a grey, levelled society--will continue for as long as they can to cherry pick from among their lessers men and women who will serve the empire faithfully, loyally--ideally--men and women who actually believe in the dream.
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