By Kevin D. Williamson
Wednesday, August 09, 2017
It is easy to despair: nuclear confrontation abroad,
social and intellectual decline at home. But the calendar helps, sometimes.
At the nation’s leading technology company, an engineer
has been blacklisted for having unpopular political views, and, rather than
recoil from this, the nation’s young people have in no small part celebrated
Google’s exercise in suppression. This is a reminder that Mohandas K. Gandhi’s
mathematical observation goes both ways. Gandhi famously informed the British
authorities that Indian independence was inevitable inasmuch as a few hundred
thousand Englishmen could not hope to control a few hundred million Indians if
those Indians did not cooperate. The despair-inducing converse of this fact is
that tyranny is never really imposed on a population from the outside. The
people are almost always collaborators in their own repression: Germans,
Russians, Venezuelans, and, in time, Americans.
The Google situation is a particularly maddening example
of a strange modern phenomenon — the vulnerable person who is so exquisitely
sensitive that he can act simultaneously as hostage and hostage-taker. One
Google apologist noted that some of the firm’s employees were so distraught by
. . . the discussion of opinions at variance with their own . . . that they
stayed home from work. Those kinds of shrill theatrics used to be called
“hysteria,” but we’ve all been taught that that is a horribly sexist word,
which means that we’ll need a new word to describe women who are so emotionally
incontinent that they become non-functional human beings when it is suggested
that they are emotionally less continent than maybe they could be.
The engineer in question had argued that Google’s closed
corporate culture created an echo chamber marked by ruthlessly enforced
conformity. Google proved him right.
Thanks to some solid Republican Supreme Court picks—don’t
say Mitch McConnell never did anything for the cause — the First Amendment is
in pretty good shape as a legal question. But the culture of free speech is in
real trouble. Charles Murray, one of the most consequential public
intellectuals of our time, cannot speak on a college campus without being
subject to violent assault; National
Review’s Kat Timpf was assaulted at a political event only a few days ago.
Black-shirted thugs who would rather see the Berkeley campus burned to the
ground than to allow Ann Coulter to speak there operate with the tacit blessing
of the relevant police and academic authorities.
Google is itself a target of the self-appointed
inquisition, endlessly criticized for having a work force that is
disproportionately male and Asian or white. About 70 percent of Google’s staff,
and about 80 percent of its technical employees, are male. There are many other
characteristics they share as well: They disproportionately didn’t major in
English or gender theory, and they disproportionately knocked the stuffing out
of the math section of the SAT. The Justice Department naturally is suing
Google for this. The reality is that the talents and drive needed to work at a
firm such as Google are distributed in a way that is neither random or even nor
organized with an eye toward pleasing the diversity police—and that reality
must, as a political matter, be denied.
Indeed, Google’s apologists point to such lawsuits in
trying to justify its dismissing an employee for his social views. We might
call that the Corporate Nuremberg Defense, a corollary to Christopher Buckley’s
Yuppie Nuremberg Defense, described in his classic novel Thank You for Smoking: “I was only paying the mortgage!” We all
have our financial realities, and no doubt Google’s craven executives
calculated that they might spare themselves future litigation by throwing a
nonconforming nerd to the PC wolves. But Google is flush enough to stand up for
itself and to set an example. That is what Chevron has done, performing a great
public service by standing up to the Democrat-organized attempts to extort
several billion dollars from its shareholders in the matter of the Lago Agrio
oil field in Ecuador. Chevron probably could have saved itself a little money
in the end by settling, but the smell of blood draws parasites and predators,
whose appetite comes from eating. One knowledgeable party estimated that
Chevron’s efforts to defend itself from Steven Donziger’s shakedown cost more
than $1 million a week. Google prides itself on being a good corporate citizen
— “Don’t Be Evil” and all that — but living up to that takes guts that Google’s
leaders just don’t have. And it may not even be that: It may be that they are
happy to have the excuse to rid themselves of such turbulent pests.
I like the term “Corporate Nuremberg Defense,” even if my
former Daily Texan colleague Mike
Godwin would hasten to point out the limitations of such comparisons. And it is
perhaps in keeping that fact in mind that we can see a little light.
Today is August 9, 2017. Seventy-five years ago today, a
Catholic nun named Teresa Benedicta of the Cross—formerly Edith Stein, the
youngest of a large Jewish family in Poland—was put to death at Auschwitz.
Teresa began her career in a German convent and was sent to a Dutch one after
the Nazis came to power. That wasn’t far enough, and she became a martyr. No, I
am not quite satisfied with that passive construction: She was murdered by
fanatics, by men representing the government of one of the world’s most
cultivated and literate nations, who had dedicated themselves to reinventing
their society by eliminating all that which they found displeasing to their
eyes and ears: decadent art, decadent books, decadent ideas, and the members of
the minority groups who mulishly persisted in their own distinctness, whose
nonconformity prevented (so the ruling philosophy held) the emergence of a
single German mind bent to the service of a single German ideal. Only a small
number of Germans served as SS officers or as guards at concentration camps.
But it is not only the violent and the fanatical who move the world and allow
themselves to be moved.
Thirty years ago, Teresa Benedicta’s fellow Pole (and
fellow saint) Pope John Paul II presided over her beatification in Cologne. The
martyr of Auschwitz and the Polish saint who saw the Soviet Union to its grave
were lights in the double darkness of the 20th century, Nazism and Communism
having been only slight variations on the same terrible theme. Teresa Benedicta
may have died a victim of vicious politics, but she transcends the merely political,
a reminder that the consecrated life is possible, that there is not so much
power in mere power as the powerful imagine. Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump may
promise one another “fire and fury,” but there is a fire beyond fire, a signal
in the night.
It is easy to despair. But not today.
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