By Kevin D. Williamson
Monday, June 30, 2025
One of the most important documents in the annals of the
American presidency is a handwritten note by Gen. Dwight Eisenhower, then still
some years away from the presidency, a few sentences of which were not made
public until years after they were written. The note explains in a few brief
words that the invasion of France we now call “D-Day”—the beginning of Europe’s
liberation
from the Nazis—has failed and that the surviving troops had been withdrawn.
The note concludes:
The troops, the air and the Navy
did all that bravery and devotion to duty could do. If any blame or fault
attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.
Eisenhower could give a political speech with as much
rhetorical flair as the next (Midwesternly repressed) guy, and there is a bit
of high-flown language in his corpus. But even his special-occasion
rhetoric had the quality of directness to it—“all that bravery and devotion
to duty could do” is an epitaph worthy of a hero—and he was allergic to
bombast.
Imagine yourself there, with him, on the evening before
the invasion. The intelligence is good but uncertain at points, no one knows
exactly what the forces of Adolf Hitler know about the planned invasion, the
weather looks like it might turn against American plans. Eisenhower spends the
afternoon before the invasion visiting with Normandy-bound paratroopers from
the 101st Airborne. He is sending at least some of them to their
death. He knows this—he has been a soldier all of his adult life, including 16
frustrating years as a major without being promoted. He also knows that an
invasion of Europe is necessary and that plenty of young American men are going
to die in the best-case scenario. But the grandly named Operation Overlord may
fail, and if it does, he will be remembered ignominiously as the incompetent
who sent those boys to their deaths for a botched job. Clouds on the horizon,
threatening storms. No mortal man has ever truly had the fate of the world on
his back, but Eisenhower probably comes a lot closer at this moment than almost
anybody has in a long time. Darkness rising. He comes to a decision, which he
announces with these words:
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Imagine being Pete Hegseth—possibly sober and an idiot,
but a Princeton- and Harvard-educated possibly sober idiot—standing
there insisting that the recent attack on Iranian nuclear facilities was
“the most complex and secretive military operation in history.”
Eisenhower liberated Europe, Hannibal crossed the Alps,
and, in Anno Domini 2025, some airplanes took off from Missouri, dropped some
massive bombs on an effectively undefended military installation, and then flew
home without so much as a bolt-action .22 rifle being popped off in their
general direction. None of that is to sneer at the Iran operation, the skill
and courage of the professionals who carried it out, the inherent danger of
such undertakings, or the marvelous technological sophistication of the U.S.
military—my admiration for them is deep. (And the better part of two days
straight in a B-2? I don’t like flying coach.) But “Midnight Hammer”
(also grandly named) wasn’t the most complex or secretive military operation of
the past ten months—surely that laurel goes to the Israelis and the
“Grim Beeper” caper—much less the whole of human history.
It is not universally true that there is an inverse
relationship between the greatness of the man and the greatness of his
manner—Winston Churchill did not exactly evince paralyzing
insecurity—but there is something to the notion. That something ought to be
even more pronounced in an American president, who is, after all, the chief
executive officer of one branch of the federal government—not a king, not a
god-emperor, not even a king’s prime minister, as Churchill was. There is a
direct relationship between the existential smallness of the man and how small
he tries to make others feel, which is why Donald Trump has spent his entire
life on the road to Smurfdom, destined to forever feel, however secretly, small
and blue.
But, my goodness, these people talk like cretins. Trump
himself is, of course, all superlatives all the time, the sort of man who was
born to sell fake Rolexes out of the trunk of a Nissan Altima and would be a
tedious barstool blowhard if only he had the decency to drink. When a Defense
Intelligence Agency analyst suggested
that the Iran mission may have amounted to less than we all hoped, Karoline
Leavitt—who is the White House press secretary in large part because she lacks
the intellectual sophistication to turn the letters around on “Wheel of
Fortune”—raged that the report was the work of a “loser.” Nobody bothered to
ask her why it is that Donald Trump, supposedly an executive for the ages, has
had so many losers working under him, often in senior security and
intelligence roles: John Bolton, Rex Tillerson, Gen. John Kelly, Gen. Mark
Milley, Gen. James Mattis, Gen. H.R. McMaster, Gen. Stanley McChrystal, etc.
(Perhaps this is what the moral philosopher Raylan Givens
was talking about when he observed: “If you run into an asshole in the morning,
you ran into an asshole. If you run into assholes all day, you’re the
asshole.”)
Trump is out there insisting that he is the greatest
president since George Washington—and maybe
greater than Washington, too. Eisenhower, who at the apex of his military
career outranked George Washington (Washington died a three-star
general; his posthumous promotion to his current
statutorily unsurpassable rank came in 1976), knew that he would lie in
state after his death and insisted that he did so in his regular army uniform,
in an $80 standard-issue soldier’s coffin, with a minimum of decoration rather
than the full Nork-style
fruit salad. (Specifically, only his Army and Navy distinguished-service
medals and the Legion of Merit.) Who doubts that Donald Trump will be entombed
in whatever Tutankhamun would have dreamed up if he’d had Liberace to consult?
And don’t think I’m off my rocker in looking to the
ancient world. Trump recently
described his ally, Benjamin Netanyahu, as a “warrior … like no other
warrior in the history of Israel.” Well. We know that Trump is not much of a
Bible-reader, though he is a
Bible salesman. “Saul has struck down his thousands, and David his tens of
thousands. But Bibi, so much winning.”
Okay, let’s go.
And While I’m At It …
We hold these truths to be … awfully inconvenient.
We are coming up on Independence Day, when those of us
dumb enough to be innocently going around in public places across these fruited
plains are going to be treated to the ghastly spectacle of a great many Donald
Trump sycophants in dopey red caps reading aloud from the Declaration of
Independence.
And I am going to throw up in my mouth a little bit.
The founding generation more or less ignored the
Declaration, for reasons that are easy to understand (no sense waving around a
manifesto for revolution while you’re trying to set up a new state), but the
Trump cultists approach that inspired document the way certain superstitious
ignoramuses treat the Bible, i.e., venerating the object itself as a
kind of magical totem while ignoring, inverting, or perverting what the text
actually has to say. As they do with the Constitution, they treat the
Declaration of Independence the way the German composer Max Reger treated
hostile assessments of his musical works: “I am sitting in the smallest room of
my house,” he wrote to one unimpressed critic. “I have your review before me.
In a moment it will be behind me.”
The people who most loudly proclaim themselves “patriots”
are, in point of fact, adherents of a politics that is fundamentally opposed to
the principles spelled out in the Declaration, hewing to a vaguely articulated
ideology that is not only illiberal but anti-liberal, autocratically
personalist to a degree that would have made poor old King George puke from
anxiety, and entirely hostile to the revolutionary document’s universalism.
Above all, they reject its theology, operating from the assumption that liberty
is not an endowment from the Creator but the gift from patron to client, from
the powerful man to his abject petitioners.
It is a Caesarist politics, not an American politics. It
is gross, low, and atavistic.
Whom do I mean? There is in our politics at the moment
something that calls itself the “new right” or MAGA or “national conservatism,”
and one name is as good as another for a movement that does not quite exist:
In practice, there is only Donald Trump and his concentric circles of
sycophancy, and everything else is intellectual pretense.
But even pretense can be revealing: The Trump world’s
leading intellectual (“tallest
building in Wichita”) is probably Patrick Deneen, author of Why
Liberalism Failed and Regime Change: Towards a Postliberal Future,
and the school of thought (“thought”) associated with him is sometimes called “postliberalism.”
Deneen castigates the pantheon of classical liberal thinkers from Adam Smith to
John Locke, whose prose Thomas Jefferson freely plagiarized when writing the
Declaration: “Long train of abuses”? “More disposed to suffer … than right
themselves”? All that jazz? Quotations from Locke, the grand poohbah of
Anglo-American liberalism. Locke’s famous list of basic rights—“life, liberty,
and property” became “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” under the
editorial quill of Thomas Jefferson, relying on George Mason’s earlier
adaptation. But the mark of Lockean liberalism cannot be missed.
It is not only a few phrases here and there that marks
the Declaration as a quintessentially liberal document. Mike
Huckabee and the other Elmer Gantry-type figures of the Evangelical world
talk of Trump as divinely appointed in approximately the same way European
kings understood themselves to be selected by God with His favor; the
Declaration rejects that monarchical pretense: “Governments are instituted
among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” Trump
treats the powers of the presidency as a kind of personal fief, handing out
financial favors and pardons to friends and donors while using the awesome
powers of the national state to target political enemies ranging from Harvard
to the City of Los Angeles, a personalist and might-makes-right approach that
cannot be squared with the notions that “all men are created equal, that they
are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.” American
liberalism, as attested to by the Declaration of Independence, is founded on
the notion that rights reside in the individual—not in the nation as a whole,
in the race, in a class, or in a caste or a guild—and that these rights are
both inherent and non-negotiable rather than subject to ad hoc revision
as demanded by the vagaries of political reality or the national situation.
Trumpism is all ad–hoc-ism all the time.
The thing that calls itself the “new right” rejects liberalism
partly out of illiterate linguistic habit (in U.S. political jargon, liberal
long meant the left wing of the Democratic Party rather than the British
liberty tradition, George McGovern rather than Adam Smith) but also, in its
more intelligent (and, hence, more blameworthy) quarters in full knowledge of
what is being rejected—which is the American proposition itself as expressed
most famously in the Declaration of Independence. Free trade, a liberal
immigration policy, due process—these are not mere policy preferences appended
to some Völkisch ethno-nationalist uprising in New England, but the
foundation of the thing itself.
Everybody knows the preamble. But have you dug lately
into the specific complaints the Founders catalogued? If Mark Twain was correct
that history doesn’t repeat but rhymes, then there’s a whole sonnet lurking in
the text of the Declaration for anybody who will bother to read it.
“To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid
world.”
King George was faulted for setting aside duly enacted
laws and frustrating their intents; Donald Trump simply refuses to enforce the
law when it doesn’t suit him, as in the matter of the TikTok ban, laws that
remain effectively “suspended in their operation till his Assent should be
obtained.” Trump may not have “called together legislative bodies at places
unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository,” but who can deny that
he has usurped congressional power at every turn, from unilaterally enacting
tariffs with no legal authorization to creating new executive “departments”
such as DOGE ex nihilo (“he has erected a multitude of new offices”)
with no legal power to do so, gutting legally authorized programs, abusing
“acting” appointments to avoid confirmation hearings, etc.? The colonists
condemned King George for going to great lengths to prevent immigration and for
seeking to make “judges dependent on his will alone for the tenure of their
offices,” etc. The Founders blamed the English king “for cutting off our trade
with all parts of the world, for imposing taxes on us without our consent,” which
is Trump’s go-to economic policy. For now, it is mostly only immigrants that
Trump is engaged in “transporting … beyond seas, to be tried for pretended
offenses,” but give him time.
What else did the Founders say about rotten, batty old
George? “He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us.” Well, there’s that,
sure. And they proclaimed that a national leader “whose character is thus
marked by every act which may define a tyrant is unfit to be the ruler of a
free people.”
Indeed—well said.
With the Declaration of Independence, the American
Founders elevated themselves from a lower state—that of subjects—to a higher
state: that of citizens. Americans in our time—too many Americans—have devolved
from citizens to subjects and then all the way down to beggars: “Please, Mr.
President, may we have your permission to buy some lumber from the Canadians to
build our houses? Without incurring ruinous taxes that have no legal basis?
Pretty please?”
When they write the history of the Trump years, it will
be “a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object
the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these States.” The tyrannical
project will fail, not because we are such firm and unwavering patriots but
because Donald Trump is too lazy and stupid to make himself into a Napoleon,
and the worst of those around him mainly care about making a little easy money
and playing big shots on social media rather than becoming a proper junta.
Our hope is not in our virtues but in their vices.
The Founders set down their objections to the king in
writing out of a “decent respect to the opinions of mankind.” Never mind the
whole of mankind: We cannot even muster the self-respect to tell ourselves the
truth about our situation.
Economics for English Majors
When I write about socialism—and about the general lack
of it in places such as Denmark and Sweden for many decades now—I often hear
complaints that I am overlooking the high taxes in those countries, their
government-dominated health-care systems, their suffocating regulation, etc.
“How high do the taxes have to be before it is socialism? Because 59 percent is
pretty high!”
As I alluded to in my
piece on the Democrats’ callow young nominee for mayor of New York City,
many on the right use “socialist” just to mean “bad” or “I don’t like this.”
Many of the European welfare states U.S. conservatives sneer at are, in my
view, well-governed and reasonably happy places. But there are aspects of their
systems that are dysfunctional and in need of reform. And, here’s the thing: There
is more than one model of statist, high-tax, high-intervention, overbearing
economic management. Not every bad government or program based on certain
assumptions we associate with American progressives is socialism.
Socialism is socialism.
Thomas Jefferson once quipped that given a choice between
government without newspapers or newspapers without government, he’d choose the
latter. (Forget anarcho-capitalism—bring on the anarcho-journalism!) I suspect
that Jefferson was being something less than entirely serious, but Jefferson
could be pretty flakey, too, so maybe he meant it.
Thinking about choices based on real-world situations can
be illuminating.
Consider Singapore, for example. Singapore is a very,
very capitalistic country. It has low taxes and a pretty small state, with
government spending accounting for only about 14
percent of GDP, as opposed to almost 38 percent (all-in, from federal to
municipal) in the United States. But it is a real country with a real history,
which means there are going to be quirks: Singapore has almost no private
ownership of land, for example, with the government owning virtually all land
in the country and owners of buildings holding 99-year leases or similar
instruments in lieu of actual ownership. Government-owned hospitals are a
prominent feature of its healthcare system; while government-owned, those public
hospitals are largely independent, compete with one another, and have a
reputation for being at least as good as the better kind of private hospital in
the United States. And to Jefferson’s concern, Singapore also practices both
formal and informal censorship that would strike most Americans as very
heavy-handed.
People and societies are not blank slates or machines
that can be tinkered with, disassembled and reassembled and improved like so
many Honda hatchbacks being souped up by tuners. But: Would you rather have
Singapore’s smaller overall government footprint and more robustly capitalist
economy even with its quirks, or would you prefer the messy and increasingly
expensive American version in which you get to keep your land title (provided
you stay up on the taxes!) and say what you want and enjoy our sometimes
amazing, sometimes idiotic healthcare system?
Would you rather pay painfully high taxes to a well-run,
reasonably efficient, and trustworthy government such as Denmark’s or pay
relatively low U.S. taxes to a dysfunctional and increasingly corrupt federal
government, and, in many cases, to state and municipal governments that are no
better and often worse? Would you rather have your freewheeling U.S. culture or
Iceland’s extraordinarily safe streets? European capitals are full of
intelligent and enlightened men and women who wish that their countries had
something like the U.S. system of higher education, its venture capital
industry, and its Silicon Valley-dominated start-up ecosystem (things too many
Americans, especially on the right, take for granted or hold in contempt), but
they don’t know how to get them without also importing the rest of the culture
that created these.
Real life isn’t a Chinese menu, and we don’t get to pick
and choose one from column A and one from column B. That isn’t how it works.
But it is worth considering the tradeoffs other people and other governments
have made over the years with an eye toward the underlying values that are
being addressed. Singapore is Singapore for a reason—Denmark, too.
It is useful to understand ideas such as socialism and
nationalism, and it is necessary to understand our own traditions of
constitutional liberty, free enterprise, democracy, innovation, etc. But there
is a place for history and specificity and particularity, too—and often these
will be at odds with what we would expect from the headline political
principles and stated fundamental ideas of a country. Which is a long way of
saying that the key to understanding life in Denmark is not where the Danish
model falls on some imaginary capitalism-to-socialist spectrum, but
understanding the facts of Danish life.
Words About Words
A headline from
National Review: “Bunker Busters Delivered Destruction, but More
Importantly, Deterrence.” My friends over at NR are celebrating the
centennial of William F. Buckley Jr., who did sometimes say things importantly
but is mainly remembered for saying things that were important.
Deterrence is more important than destruction, not more
importantly than destruction.
The location of the modifier in relation to the verb
confuses us sometimes when it comes to important and importantly, but what’s
being said is: “The bombs did this other thing that was more important” or
“more important is the fact that” etc. Bombs do important things; the people
who order the bombings sometimes—often—do things importantly. In fact,
the ladies and gentlemen in Washington are remarkable for how often they do
unimportant things importantly.
And Furthermore
Do read Michael
Tanner on the tricky business of marriage and poverty:
Any strategy for reducing poverty
in America has to consider the “success sequence,” which posits that if someone
finishes high school, gets a job, gets married, and only then has a child, they
are unlikely to live in poverty. There is a strong circumstantial case to
support the success sequence. Few Americans who finish school, work, and delay
childbearing until they are married live in poverty. In fact, as Richard Reeves
writes
for the Brookings Institution, 73 percent of poor whites and 59 percent of poor
African Americans who follow the sequence not only escape poverty but actually
reach the middle class.
However, not all components of
the success sequence carry the same weight or can be linked directly to
outcomes. For instance, work seems obviously linked to avoiding poverty.
Just four percent of full-time
workers are
poor, though even part-time work makes a measurable difference. Only 10
percent of part-time workers are poor compared to nearly 30 percent of those
who do not work at all. Education’s impact is less direct, but linked with
employability and other opportunities. Among people 25 and older, almost
one-quarter of those without a high school degree are poor, nearly double the
percentage for high school graduates. Marriage, though, may be the most tenuous
and contentious aspect of the success sequence.
Tanner offers a cool and intelligent evaluation of the
evidence in a debate that too often sees people getting carried away by their
priors.
In Closing
Those of you who were young in the ’90s may remember
these immortal lines from Cracker:
I don’t know what the world may
need
But a V-8 engine’s a good start
for me.
Think I’ll drive and find a place
To be surly.
That song is almost universally known as “What the World
Needs Now,” though its actual title is “Teen Angst.”
I don’t know what the world may need, but Mercedes-Benz
does. A headline from Car and Driver: “Report:
Mercedes-AMG to Drop Four-Cylinder for Inline-Sixes and V-8s.”
Automakers, especially at the high end, have been dialing
back the green stuff for a few years now, as customers continue to make it
clear that they do not want as many electric cars as their betters want them to
want, and that while hybrids such as the wonderful Toyota Prius Plug-in Hybrid
have their place, people paying very large bucks for products from AMG
(Mercedes’ performance line) want big honkin’ V-8 engines that produce speed
and a terrific noise. Car and Driver:
Mercedes-AMG is transitioning
away from the four-cylinder plug-in hybrid powertrain and back towards the
inline-six and V-8 powertrains more traditionally associated with the brand.
That isn’t to say that AMG had a change of heart concerning the merits of the
four-cylinder powertrain, but rather that the automaker is responding to
customer criticisms. “Technically, the four-cylinder is one of the most
advanced drivetrains available in a production car. It’s also right up there on
performance. But despite this, it failed to resonate with our traditional
customers. We’ve recognized that,” a
source at Mercedes told Autocar.
Whether it is sippier cars from Mercedes, Nike lecturing
people about watching women’s sports, or all of the “pride” stuff in June,
businesses are starting to be reminded that for executives not named Anna
Wintour, the main job is to give people what they want, not to tell them what
they want. (Wintour is stepping down as editor at Vogue, but she’ll
still be telling people what they should desire in her role as a senior
executive.) I happen to like Mercedes’ beastly four-bangers (the AMG GLA is
super fun), I’m happy for people to watch women’s sports (and I personally
watch almost exactly as much women’s sports as I do men’s sports—none),
and I wish the best to my gay friends (and endless consternation to my gay
enemies!) even if I am not inclined to concede to them the entire rainbow for
the month of June. I don’t feel like I need a lot of moral direction from
Reebok or Apple or Levi’s or Kroger or, you know, Germans.
What the world needs now is another corporate
social-justice campaign, like
I need a hole in my head.
Postscript
Which reminds me, all praise to Michael Rosenwald of the New
York Times for this
utterly deadpan sentence: “She had a number of love affairs with men who
also drilled small holes in their heads.”