The Center Cannot Hold

A Primer for 21^st Century Political Labels

William Sundwick

Left and Right. It all started in 1789 with Louis XVI and his National Assembly. The body was reaction to the revolution that year, and the storming of the Bastille. The king knew he had to listen to people with differing views. The deputies supporting crown and church found themselves sitting together to the right of the Assembly President. Those who supported the revolution on the opposite side of the chamber, left of the President. The framework of this seating arrangement held in the Legislative Assembly of 1791, despite all new deputies.

The press picked up on the seating arrangement quickly. Soon everybody was talking about Le Droit and La Gauche in all discussions about the future direction of the monarchy. The coup d’etat of 1792, and the Terror following, emptied the right side of the chamber, when the Girondins , the more moderate of the Jacobins, were purged.  Survivors from that side moved closer to the Montagnards on the Left, but not quite with them, sitting closer to the Center of the chamber. That Center grew during the Thermador period (1794-95) and after the restoration of the monarchy in 1814-15.

Political clubs, then formal parties, emerged as the century progressed, over the objections of monarchists. A similar process had been underway in Britain since the Glorious Revolution of 1688, where Parliament emerged triumphant and immediately began to differentiate itself between “constitutionalism” and “divine right.” The Glorious Revolution also introduced another social and political philosophy into European history – liberalism. Inspired by John Locke, it established the notion of a “social contract” between the people and their ruler. Liberalism has remained the dominant philosophy for most western European governments, the United States and South America ever since.

In 19^th century America, however, a unique political structure developed. Slavery, and the compromises it necessitated, from the Constitutional Convention onward, made European political labels on any Left-Right spectrum difficult to apply. Our political structure has been charitably identified as “American Exceptionalism.” It reduced to two big themes: 1) slavery; and, 2) the frontier. Neither was an issue in Europe. Ending slavery required a violent Civil War, which only replaced it with the demi-slavery of Jim Crow and white supremacy. And, the existence of an empty frontier throughout the century made escape from political labels too easy! Our compromised political system might be described as “centrist,” accommodating both white supremacy and the liberal ideal of self-determination.

Liberalism in the United States became associated more with property rights than social equity. Abolitionists were not liberals, but radicals. In Europe, Marx and Engels created a Left for the industrial revolution, but wrote a series of articles for the New York Tribune before the Civil War where they identify a peculiar American strain of class conflict, literally between slaves and their masters.

Since the frontier was rural – not urban industrial – it was naturally attractive to the aspiring “petty bourgeois” of independent farmers and artisans. That was not the milieu of Britain’s growing textile industry, familiar to Engels, where workers controlling the means of production would lead to “socialism.” The struggle for socialism  would adopt a more European complexion. Not American.

Yet, by the end of the century, America had managed to create a movement of rural “populists,” who later joined with urban workers in a “progressive” coalition led by disaffected members of an elite capitalist class (William McKinley, Theodore Roosevelt, Robert LaFollette). Progressivism expanded the liberal idea of property rights to workers, perhaps not in Marx’s terms of “seizing the means of production,” but still making great strides toward establishing “social rights.” From the Civil War through the first two decades of the 20^th century, it was the progressive Republican Party, more than Eugene Debs’ socialists, that spearheaded the closest approximation to left politics the country had known up until that time. Progressivism’s purpose was clearly to save capitalism, not destroy it. Likewise, FDR’s New Deal.

American political labels began including the term “conservative” in the mid-20^th century. While certain cultural drivers had always existed in the U.S., as in Europe, toward traditionalism, primacy of property rights, and religious freedom, people who felt these drivers most strongly still found themselves in the broader European liberal tradition -- until that conservative brand was invented by William F. Buckley and others. Robert Taft emerged as the Republican Party symbol of conservatism, not Dwight Eisenhower (a military man averse to political labels and perhaps still tied to the midwestern populists, or progressive wing of his party).

This spiffy new brand of conservatism captured the imagination (and wallets) of media influencers, including television, convincing people that Sen. Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin was defending our democracy against an insidious plot of Soviet Communism. McCarthy was a Taft Republican who exploited the fears many average Americans held for the “other.” Communists made a convenient other. Richard Nixon was a McCarthy acolyte, and Ronald Reagan gave the hysteria some slick Hollywood PR.

The hysteria faded but still left a mark on political labels. There had never been a strong identification with socialism, or anything smacking of the Left, in U.S. politics. Even labor unions eschewed the label. We remained a Centrist nation as McCarthy and, later, the John Birch Society, were discredited. More people began to see some value in the concept of “social rights” – now expressed as “civil rights.” It was the new face of liberalism. John F. Kennedy was elected, then Lyndon Johnson.

But, alas, American political compromise with the Right was still necessary. Just as it had been with slavery from the birth of the Republic.  The cultural divide between regions, between urban and rural, between religious and secular, could not be eradicated. “Socialist” remained a nasty word. It was popularly associated with communism. You could safely call yourself only “liberal” or “Democrat,” never socialist, in public. We were still a Centrist nation.

Even after Nixon’s humiliation and resignation, we merely advanced to Reagan. Jimmy Carter campaigned in 1976 from the center. Bill Clinton and his Third Way responded to Reaganism by stripping the Democratic Party of any vestiges of social rights. After two terms of Barack Obama, one might think it was time for the Party to feel more comfortable moving left. Apparently not. Donald Trump managed to squeak out an electoral college win over Hillary Clinton in 2016. And, now everybody on the putative political left is convinced that Obama could have done more, save for the country remaining “moderate” – i.e., Centrist. Sigh.

The ”establishment” in the Democratic Party, which includes Speaker Nancy Pelosi, is now identified as “neoliberal”– meaning, generally, that they believe in capitalism and the primacy of markets. They are not socialists. ONLY Bernie Sanders claims that label. And, we all know he will never be president.

We live in a shrinking “flat” world. Yes, it is governed by neoliberal capitalist interests. Those of us who want to change that must accept the widest possible spread from left to right of center in that chamber where we all sit. Imagine it is Paris, 1789. Parties have not been established. We all have our opinions, and we should understand where they come from. We should own them. Left, Right, and Center all have their place in our National Assembly. Even if the Center, changing its positions over time, always holds in the end!

Debate in Detroit

Is Bloody Combat What We Wanted?

William Sundwick

This is getting to be a spectacle. The second Democratic Presidential Debate was held July 30 and 31 in Detroit. It was marked by much more visceral combat than the first debate in Miami a month earlier. Was this by design? Or, has the temper of Democrats become more frayed over the last month?

The stage was set for the first night, Tuesday, featuring the two giants of the left, Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, getting rolled by a gang of lesser polling moderates. Then Wednesday was to be the trial by fire for the titular leader of the pack, Joe Biden. CNN chose its team of moderators: Jake Tapper, Dana Bash and Don Lemon – experts in following the prescribed format emphasizing attack and rebuttal. That appeared to be the plan.

Mostly, it worked. If this is what you wanted, you got it in spades. Night One saw ideological divides drawn sharply between Sanders/Warren (who continued to live up to their reputed non-aggression pact) on the left versus the rest of the stage, except perhaps Pete Buttigieg and Marianne Williamson (independent paths?). Beto O’Rourke seemed lost, not knowing where to place himself. Rebuttals are always easier than affirmative cases in debating, so the dynamic clearly favored Sanders/Warren. Similarly, Night Two tended to favor Biden – he appeared more confident than during the first debate, at least when he kept on script. He even managed a barrage of counterattacks against his tormenters (especially Kamala Harris and Cory Booker).

But some read Biden’s flailing counterattacks as a sign of weakness -- exasperation at continuously playing defense. It seems unwarranted, considering he still holds the lead in polling. He probably got his greatest respite when other candidates chose, instead, to go after each other! Harris vs. Tulsi Gabbard was a good example, or Bill De Blasio vs. Julian Castro. Both secondary fights were initiated with a parrying thrust by one against the criminal justice record of the other. Gabbard had much of the same ammunition that Biden was also using against Harris’ prosecutorial history. Castro attacked De Blasio for refusing to fire the officer who choked Eric Garner to death. Neither target recovered well, and it served to take heat off Biden, at least temporarily.

CNN’s attempt to direct the tone of the debate toward more combat has been seen by some analysts, and candidates afterwards, as an unfair bias toward Republican talking points. If this was the tactic it was entirely appropriate though. Whoever wins the nomination will face those talking points in the general. Nevertheless, it’s not clear that the strategy succeeded in avoiding the obfuscation and deflection that many lamented in the Miami debate. Buttigieg grandstanded when he faced the viewing audience and advised any Republican office holders who might be watching to think of their “legacy” in the history books. Not sure any of them care. Harris declared that Trump’s tariffs are “betraying the American people.” That seemed a tad hyperbolic. But it did heighten the dramatic tension of the event.

Who emerged in an unexpected better position than they went in? Possibly Andrew Yang on Night Two? John Delaney scored a hit on Night One when he became the main spokesperson for the “revolt of the centrists.” And, looking at Sanders and Warren as a tag team, rather than opponents, on Night One was refreshing. One can even fantasize a Sanders/Warren (or Warren/Sanders) ticket in 2020. Their posture on Tuesday was more akin to a “good cop/bad cop” scenario (or A/B marketing tool) than anything else.

With more stringent entrance requirements for the third debate in September, it’s unlikely we’ll see more than seven or eight on stage in Houston. Looking at polling, and performance in Detroit, it seems most likely that we won’t have John Hickenlooper, Tim Ryan, or Jay Inslee to kick around. Likewise, Steve Bullock or Kirsten Gillibrand (she came across Night Two as the less confident “new kid” at the cafeteria lunch table trying desperately to be accepted by the “cool kids”). In any case, getting to 2% from 1% polling average AND doubling total donations is a high hurdle for many of the two dozen candidates.

Even with fewer on-stage appearances, the third debate on September 12 and 13, hosted by ABC, will probably continue to feature drama and spectacle over substance. But perhaps we can divine something about the candidates’ characters from that? Even if we can’t decipher their policy positions.

What Does My Music Library Say About Me?

A Rebuttal to the Personality Link

William Sundwick

Ever since I can remember, I’ve liked listening to music. My childhood was spent with a father who was a failed violinist in his youth. (He became an engineer.) But, while he never played for me, he was totally dedicated to the classical, mostly 19^th century, orchestral catalogue. He took off from Paganini and didn’t stop until Heifetz. Listening to music was very serious business to him. It was clearly emotional. I inherited the emotional content, if not the literature.

For me, dramatic always trumped soothing. Heavy was generally better than light. I adored Beethoven -- a love shared with my dad. Schumann, Berlioz, Brahms all get honorable mention. I liked the Russians, too – along with my mother – father not so much (no violinists).

Something happened to me culturally, however, when I got to high school, and obtained a driver’s license. With a little help from my friends, I discovered top 40 radio in the car. It became a social thing. My previous group of friends, intellectually precocious New York Jews, with holocaust survivor parents, had aided and abetted my classical predilections up to that point -- although none of us ever played an instrument. Driving around listening to radio in the car became a liberating experience. Independence at last!

Social acceptance changed tone in college. There, the driving force seemed to be “what’s new.” And, then, what would come next. Thus, the avant-garde invaded my mind, with musical, artistic, and theatrical dimensions. Grafted onto that avant-garde sensibility was social awareness of a different world – an underclass world of black people. Blues and avant-garde jazz were, in my mind as a college student, part of the same “movement.” I had already gained an appreciation for the left from my New York Jewish friends in high school – college gave me the chance to integrate all that into an aesthetic that would become my own.

I still listened to classical music in college but replaced the 19^th century romantics with baroque and more 20th century artists. I liked Shostakovich and Prokofiev symphonies.

After college, it became clear that the future lay with rock music. It was symbolic of the age, and drew from a fabulous, beautiful history of the great migration from the South to the industrial Midwest. Urban blues became my music. As it transmogrified into Chicago Blues or British Blues, it seemed to be part of an evolving tradition. A working-class artform.

I, too, became a worker. I may have been an intellectual worker, but a worker, nonetheless. Adding to that, I was slow to develop intimate relationships – adolescent “sturm und drang” didn’t disappear from my psyche until my late marriage at 35. By that time, I was dedicated to Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. The revolution was still coming – in the future.

If there is anything at all to the psychological studies which claim to correlate musical tastes with personality, I might confess being a “systemizer” more than an “empathizer” – like my engineer father. This does tend to support the basic genres of music I like best. I prefer complex melodies and rhythms, and intense music.

One parameter for musical taste which is clearly bogus in my case is age. I’m still discovering new musical genres at age 71. I have only recently become a fan of heavy metal and punk/post-punk. It says something to me which is as valid now as it was when I was 20 or 25. I’ve never rejected my roots. Sadly, I never participated in creating music. But I still appreciate it.

Today the only time I listen intently to music is at the gym. This means I associate my music library with biofeedback (cardio) and may even use it for “productivity enhancement” (makes me pedal harder). This is a departure from my youthful serious listening, although that listening mode is still imprinted in my emotional affect. I still like sad songs (blues), especially when linked to social alienation and emancipation. I continue associating avant-garde with class struggle, opposing the mainstream.

When music stays “underground,” it is better than when it is commercially successful. I’ve never liked “soothing” or “easy listening” music of the pop world. I reject overly sentimental music, as it cheapens my own emotions. And, I steadfastly reject music with a conservative social message. Commercial Nashville usually epitomizes that -- although I still enjoy some Rolling Stones anthems like “Ruby Tuesday” or “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” (both examples of Keith Richards lapsing into extolling market capitalism’s virtue).

Blues is good. The purity and depth of its sentiment is real. It’s mostly about struggle, as I see it. The world of rock, whether blues-based or more experimental (like heavy metal), strikes me as great when it features virtuoso musicians – vocalists, guitar players, drummers, especially. Harmonica and tenor sax can often give an extra treat to the ear, as well. They contribute a plaintive tone to a song.

But the beat must remain predominant. Even in experimental electronic forms, there must be an underlying regular, repetitive beat. Sometimes the beat gets lost but is heroically rediscovered in the denouement. Zeppelin were masters of this, especially “In My Time of Dying” and “Dazed and Confused”. “Noise rock,”  like Sonic Youth, has tried the same approach – the beat must be at the heart of the song, even if lost in the middle.

Rock anthems continue to have an appeal to me. They seem to be hymns, crying “we shall overcome someday.”  Often, they take the form of a personal story, but sometimes they preach. The underlying emotion is hopefulness, with a dash of triumphalism – arrived at mostly through resistance to malevolent forces. Two of my favorite anthems are from the Rolling Stones: “Gimme Shelter” and “Midnight Rambler.” The former is the preaching style, the latter more bluesy.

The singer-songwriter folk tradition also contributes much to my music library. But always a folk-rock beat and instrumental backup is added. Mumford and Sons made a big impression on me when they entered the scene about ten years ago. Banjo replaces lead guitar on their first two albums, but it’s unmistakably folk rock.

The main reason I can’t buy the link between personality and musical tastes is that my tastes are way too varied to be pigeonholed. Why would I want to define who I am, anyway? Different studies have come up with different dimensions of personality and music – there is an “extroversion” scale where the most outgoing folks like the music I like, but the introverted folks also like some of the music I like. The “neuroticism” dimension in different studies concludes that people who rank high in neuroticism like totally opposite kinds of music. Go figure.

I think it’s not about musical genres, but more the socio-cultural tradition you live in that determines your musical taste. Mine has been developing for 71 years. There’s quite a history behind it. If I share it with nobody else, I don’t care.

Pittsburgh

Nice to See Yinz Agin’

William Sundwick

Pittsburgh used to feel so familiar. Countless trips from the time I first met my wife, a native of McKeesport in southeastern Allegheny County. Then, after her mother died, and father moved to Florida, the trips stopped. But when both our kids went to school in the ‘burgh, nine consecutive years ensued of schlepping around Oakland, Squirrel Hill and Shadyside. One went to Carnegie Mellon four years, then his brother to Pitt for five years. The city became very familiar.

After the Pitt School of Education Masters ceremony in 2012, however, there were no longer kids there. We visited again in 2014, anticipating a final goodbye to the city.  That visit came as we circled home from our great midwestern road trip to Michigan and Chicago. We stayed at the Priory, enjoyed cocktails on its veranda, walked to a game at PNC Park, and across the Andy Warhol bridge to his museum.

It would have made a spectacular adieu to the city of rivers.

Five years later, though, another opportunity arose. My wife, the Pittsburgh native, had a milestone birthday! For my 70^th  she had treated me to a Baltimore overnight, exploring parts of Charm City I had never seen. Now, it was my turn to reciprocate.

In addition to the celebratory occasion of my wife’s birthday, this would also likely be the last road trip for our old reliable 2007 Toyota Highlander. The old girl continued to impress us with her stamina, after 88,000 miles, but was due for replacement – probably sooner than our next ambitious  

highway trip. The car had performed yeoman’s service on the much longer 2014 trip, but she was five years younger, then. Her maintenance schedule had been (fairly) religiously followed since, and I was confident she could make it.

I even had the car washed, the “Manager’s Special” at my local car wash. She was cleaner than I’d seen her for years! Her metallic grey/green finish glistened in the sunlight (my wife always hated that color – we had bought the car used off a dealer’s lot). Tire pressure checked out. We were ready to go.

I can only hope that some future worthy owner, who relies on the vehicle for livelihood and family, will cherish her as much as we have,  for at least a little longer (we plan to donate the car to “Vehicles for Change,” as we have the last two cars we’ve replaced).

Our destination was a historic downtown hotel, the 103-year-old Omni William Penn. Historic hotels are a thing with us on vacations – we’ve stayed at the Palmer House in Chicago (in 2014) and the Omni Grove Park Inn in Asheville (2008) on previous excursions. We like the gilded age elegance evoked by these grande dame hotels. Our “Deluxe Suite” at the William Penn was no exception. A massive sitting room was even larger than the bedroom. It was located on the sixth floor, the next floor down was, mysteriously, the fourth floor. We never asked about the missing fifth floor.

The hotel lies directly across the street from Mellon Square, a picturesque be-fountained park on multiple terraced levels. Market Square is also nearby with its live music and vendor stalls. But downtown doesn’t have quite the panache of the cultural district or Oakland to the northeast, or Squirrel Hill with its dignified air of Pittsburgh urban upper middle class. Those neighborhoods had become our stomping grounds a decade earlier during the college years. The hotel was an easy walk

across Roberto Clemente Bridge to PNC Park for the baseball game on Sunday against the San Diego Padres.

First, however, we did take the car out of the garage for our Saturday night dinner reservations in Mt. Washington. LeMont restaurant is noted for its view of the Point, where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers meet. Our table, by a large picture window, provided ample photo ops. But, for us amateur photographers, the restaurant is just three doors down from the Duquesne Incline, an even better photo op of the same scene. The food was good, but not extraordinary like the view. We both had fillet mignon and a California merlot.

The Pittsburgh Parking Authority mandates all garages charge the same rate, $6/day on weekends. Hence, we paid $6 when we took the car out to go to dinner, and another $6 the next day when we left for home. $12 total for a full weekend in downtown Pittsburgh seems like a parking bargain to me. We had to pay $10 for just two hours in a lot at Mt. Washington.

We indulged ourselves Sunday morning at the hotel’s “breakfast buffet,” an all-you-can eat orgy containing everything on their menu. We ate too much. My FitBit calorie count was inestimable, but I took a guess at somewhere in the 800-calorie range. I don’t eat out much. The Bob Evans in Breezewood on Saturday was kind enough (ha!) to provide calories on its lunch menu. I hate that.

It was a very warm – and sunny – Sunday for the game. Dressing lightly was certainly appropriate, but uncovered seats presented a new problem, not encountered by me before. Wife was cautious enough to pack sunscreen, but she never spends time outdoors. I was well-acquainted with walking year-round, and yard work into the summer. I could tough it out. Wrong. Sitting in one place for the duration of a long (very slow moving, it turned out) baseball game – fully exposed to the sun – leads to sunburn! 

It’s not like moving around or walking. I’ve never been a beach person, so didn’t know this. I’m still recovering two weeks later.

Ultimately, it was an exciting game – Pirates came back from a three-run deficit in the ninth to send it into extra innings. Then, again, in the 11^th inning, not only overcame another three-run deficit, but walked in the game-winning run. Fireworks, as always, when home team wins!

The four-hour drive home to Virginia was relatively painless at night. Traffic was light and we had no problem alternating driving stretches in the same manner we had done during the many daylight trips we made over the that Parkway (376) –> Turnpike (76) –> I-70 –> I-270 –> Beltway (495) route as always. The birthday weekend in the ‘burgh had come to an end. We showered, ate midnight snacks and watched a pre-recorded half-hour sitcom from our DVR. Then to bed. Next morning, wife got herself to work for another week. I felt like I had given her something, then proceeded into my Monday routines of breakfast, doing my laundry, going for a walk -- before it got too hot – then the gym. And, so it goes.