Semiquicentennial
Burnt-Over America
I thought it would be nice to limit this post to observations on the Semiquicentennial but, alas, it was not to be. Only this item and the next are so timely.
I’ve read quite a lot of religious history, including (maybe even disproportionately) the religious history of this nation of heretics. Among the most important influences of American religion is the revivalism and religious ferment of the so-called burnt-over district in New York state, where revival followed revival and where many of our most marginal Christian-ish groups, like Mormons and Seventh-Day Adventists, were born amidst a seemingly unchallenged conviction that real Christianity had been lost and needed to be “restored.”
But my focus was on the ferment and spawning of group after group of restorationists. I sort of ignored that “burnt-over district” implies exhaustion of fuel with little left but ashes:
Charles Grandison Finney (1792–1875) popularized the term: his posthumous 1876 book Autobiography of Charles G. Finney referred to a “burnt district” to denote an area in central and western New York State during the Second Awakening:
I found that region of country what, in the western phrase, would be called, a “burnt district.” There had been, a few years previously, a wild excitement passing through that region, which they called a revival of religion, but which turned out to be spurious. … It was reported as having been a very extravagant excitement; and resulted in a reaction so extensive and profound, as to leave the impression on many minds that religion was a mere delusion. A great many men seemed to be settled in that conviction. Taking what they had seen as a specimen of a revival of religion, they felt justified in opposing anything looking toward the promoting of a revival.
And indeed, I understand that the former burnt-over district is uncommonly disinterested in religion still today.
Leave it to David French to see this as metaphor for America as a political burnt-over district. People are so much of the mind “I just can’t even” that Trump is getting away with corruption on a scale unprecedented in our history. Meanwhile, antisemitic crypto-communists are ascendent in the Democrat party.
I can scarcely bear to bear to look any more, but through long habit (and a desire for topics readers might find interesting) it’s hard to look away, too.
I personally can’t imagine voting for the party of MAGA or the Democrats, who just when we need them most seem to be succumbing to extremely radical Democratic Socialists of America (i.e., they despise AOC, for instance, as too mainstream) that founder Michael Harrington wouldn’t recognize.
And I don’t even care that I don’t care. I’ve heard that I’m not alone in feeling that way.
In January the president was asked why members of his family had begun doing business overseas during his second term when they had sworn off doing so during his first. If perceptions of influence-peddling were enough to put them off the practice once before, why would he and they engage in it orgiastically now?
“I found out that nobody cared,” he replied, matter-of-factly.
That’s classic Trump. On the one hand, it’s a pristine vista onto a criminal mind. Moral misgivings about monetizing one’s public office are nowhere in sight, nor is there any interest in setting a good example or anxiety about the civic consequences of letting an appearance of impropriety go uncorrected. To him, the question is simply whether the crime, once committed, is likely to go unpunished. If so, proceed.
On the other hand, he’s right. For all intents and purposes, nobody cares.
Nick Catoggio, who first turned my mind to this morose thought. Then French added the metaphor and cemented it.
I’m burnt over on politics. Maybe you are, too.
Pray for America. I do so daily — not that God would Make America Great Again, but more along the lines that we’d repent, and become good for the long run.
Vive la France!
This is a time for thinking about the things we like and love best about these United States but there is a national shortcoming weighing on me that I feel compelled to mention: Of all the many regrettable political developments of the past dozen years, the most regrettable is the fact that the United States has become such a poor friend and a shabby ally, and not only to the French. Americans sneer at NATO, an alliance organized around a collective-defense provision that has been invoked precisely once in its history: rallying to the defense of the United States after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Americans lament—not without reason—the expense of what seems to many to have been a pointless war in Afghanistan, and we mourn the loss of American lives there. We are less likely to mention the 457 British soldiers who gave their lives in that conflict, the 159 Canadians, the 90 French, the 62 Germans, the 53 Italians, the 44 Poles, the 44 Danes, and the Australians, Spanish, Georgians, Romanians, Dutch, Turks, Czechs, New Zealanders, and Norwegians. When the United States under Joe Biden decided to suddenly quit Afghanistan, our government did so with hardly any consultation with the allies who had fought and died beside us there. It was a blunder and an insult. The same administration blindsided the French with the AUKUS agreement that, among other things, torpedoed a French-Australian submarine project–another blunder, another insult. The succeeding administration, it goes without saying, has done everything within its considerable power to make things worse with its childish displays of incompetence, ingratitude, and resentment. There is a certain horrifying symmetry at work: Donald Trump, a man without friends, presides over a nation without allies–or one that will be without allies if we continue on our current course.
…
We didn’t get to 250 by ourselves. There have been times when the United States has carried the world on its back—and times when the United States has been borne up by our friends and allies. We never forget when it’s been us doing the heavy lifting—but we are, at times, shamefully forgetful of what others have done for us.
…
God bless America, yes. We will need His blessing.
But, also: God bless the friends and allies who have invested their own blood and treasure in the extraordinary project of liberty that we took up 250 years ago. Vive la France!
The Other Stuff
SCOTUS
Right outcome, wrong rationale
It was a grievous disappointment to the sort of person whose interest in Republican politics is coextensive with their interest in “the Great Replacement,” which describes a lot of Trump voters. And it’s no answer to tell them that the decision did nothing more than uphold the law as it’s stood for ages. The point of the revolution is to overturn the law as it’s stood for ages. What do you think the word “postliberal” means, exactly?
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Jonah Goldberg is correct that the new right’s difficulty with that language resembles the left’s difficulty with the Second Amendment more so than conservatives’ difficulty with abortion: “It can’t mean what it says because I really don’t want it to!”
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Liberalism cares about process, postliberalism cares only about results … Conservatives wouldn’t want a court full of hacks and chuds but postliberals would welcome it.
Because I’m a conservative (i.e., a “right-liberal”) who cares about process, I’m going to eat my words about a result I liked. I wrote: “I’m glad SCOTUS decided the birthright citizenship case as it did because I think the language of the citizenship clause is clear” (italics added). I now, reluctantly, retract that.
I’m reluctant because I think that the Citizenship clause of the 14th amendment is clear enough that we don’t need to look at its “legislative history.”
But there’s a canon besides that “textualist” one: avoid constitutional decisions if there’s a narrower basis. In this case, one or two twentieth-century statutes recognizing birthright citizenship would have trumped Trump’s Executive Order and disposed of the case, leaving the constitutional question for another day should our MAGA Congress repeal those statutes. This narrower statutory basis was what Justice Kavanaugh advocated in his concurrence.
My only excuses for this error are: (1) all the buzz was about the 14th amendment; (2) my perception of the clarity of that amendment’s citizenship clause riveted my attention.
I’m pretty happy with Justice Kavanaugh. I deplore his underage binge-drinking, but he’s not underage any more, and as another underappreciated public figure (not to mention sundry songsters) once said when asked to explain a blemish on his youthful record, “when I was young and foolish, I was young and foolish.”
(David Post at the Volokh Conspiracy blog also commends Kavanaugh’s approach. Some Thoughts on the Court’s Opinion(s) in the Birthright Citizenship Case. I got there before he did, but I’ve been aggregating thing for another multi-topic blogpost.)
The timing couldn’t be worse
Speaking of SCOTUS decisions, I’ve lamented that the “Unitary Executive” theory is being so vigorously exercised by this particularly corrupt and personalist administration, but I sort of assumed the theory simpliciter was correct, probably because it’s pretty easy to understand and apply, partly because it has been supported even by my (non-MAGA) conservative tribe.
Now that it’s 11:59 on the Unitary Executive doomsday clock, I’m reconsidering my position.
[T]here is no question that the federal government needs to delegate authority to officials with the knowledge, skills, and expertise needed to run a complex modern state, and that Congress ought to be able to play a role in protecting that delegated authority.
Francis Fukuyama. See also George Will, Lawrence Lessig & Cass R. Sunstein, and Federalist Papers 51 (James Madison) (not all of which I’ve read as I write)
Donald Trump has demonstrated that he doesn’t really care about running our complex modern state so long as he’s serviced by Cabinet members and agency heads who will tongue-shine his shoes and he can line his pockets with impunity. Even if SCOTUS is right about this, the timing could hardly be worse.
Why the carve-out for the Fed?
For my money, one of the worst decisions of the term came (fittingly) on the same day as Slaughter, and it nicely illustrates the difference between ad hoc, bad-faith reasoning and its opposite. That was Trump v. Cook, the 5-4 decision in which Roberts, along with Kavanaugh and the court’s three liberals, held that Lisa Cook of the Federal Reserve’s Board of Governors could remain in her position while she fights Trump’s attempt to fire her. This, in effect, creates a carve out for the Federal Reserve from the presidential firing power enhanced by Slaughter. Why does the Fed alone receive such special protection? Because, Roberts argued, “the appearance of independence is key to the Federal Reserve’s design.” That’s true. But then how is an independent Fed compatible with the Constitution when the ostensible independence of other agencies is supposedly incompatible with the Constitution?
The argument appears to be that the consequences of undermining the appearance of Fed independence would be bad for American monetary policy and stability. No doubt it would be. But if it’s legitimate to think in terms of the consequences in the case of denying Fed independence, why not when it comes to denying the independence of other federal agencies? The distinction sounds arbitrary to me—unless one grants the Marxist premise that it’s perfectly “normal” for capital to warp the rules of the capitalist system around itself. (I hate granting Marxist premises, but when reality vindicates them, what else am I supposed to do?)
Damon Linker, Two Cheers for the SCOTUS Term.
It’s hard to argue with Linker on this. “Just an eensy-weensy fourth branch to protect money” has a foul odor to it.
Wooden Ships
(Song of my youth that I love)
If you smile at me, I will understand 'Cause that is something everybody everywhere does In the same language I can see by your coat, my friend You're from the other side There's just one thing I got to know Can you tell me please, who won? Say, can I have some of your purple berries? Yes, I've been eating them for six or seven weeks now Haven't got sick once Probably keep us both alive Wooden ships on the water, very free and easy Easy, you know the way it's supposed to be Silver people on the shoreline, let us be Talkin' 'bout very free and easy Horror grips us as we watch you die All we can do is echo your anguished cries Stare as all human feelings die We are leaving, you don't need us Go, take your sister then, by the hand Lead her away from this foreign land Far away, where we might laugh again We are leaving, you don't need us And it's a fair wind blowin' warm Out of the south over my shoulder Guess I'll set a course and go
Crosby, Stills & Nash, or one of its reshufflings, Wooden Ships. Sorry that my stylesheet renders the lyrics monospaced, like a typewriter.
Buy Me a Coffee or Substack? Well, it depends.
I have never quite brought myself to the point of saying I will never move to Substack. The reason? Because I know I could make a lot more money on Substack than I make by using Buy Me a Coffee. Indeed, people remind me of this! My friend Freddie deBoer wrote to me recently to say that a post of mine would have done gangbusters on Substack — which would have meant a lot of people impulse-buying subscriptions. That’s the thing about being in that platform ecosystem: thanks to network effects, you get the impulse buyers. That does not happen on Buy Me a Coffee. You all have had to be really intentional about supporting me, which is a great thing.
Why is it a great thing? Because by writing on the open web and merely asking for support, I have wholly escaped the pressures that come when people have paid money to see your writing and therefore have certain expectations for what you say and how you say it. Also escaped: that other kind of pressure that comes when people really like one particular post and show their liking with money — which plants the idea in the back of your head that you need to write more posts like that … whether you really want to or not. By contrast, y’all have supported me because you see what the whole package is, and know what you’re getting and are likely to continue to get. That’s really wonderful. So I have every reason to keep writing for the open web and merely requesting/hoping for your contributions.
Well, every reason but one, anyway. Why haven’t I forsworn Substack? Simple: I’m afraid that when I retire next year and take a big financial hit, I’ll be poor, or significantly poorer anyway, unless I hawk my wares on that platform. Which is pathetic. That attitude is unworthy of a mature Christian man.
So — taking a deep breath here — I solemnly affirm before God and my fellow humans that I will never write on Substack. There, I said it. If no one supports my writing I’ll work as a greeter at Walmart — but as for my personal online writing, I pledge my troth to the open web! You heard it here first.
Alan Jacobs. I’m glad I can write as I wish, not as readers might wish, and not for money.
Secularization ——> Anxious Religiosity
Whatever you heard in the early 2000s, reports of the death of transcendence have been greatly exaggerated. Secularization seems instead to provoke anxious religiosity, like a bird with no place to land. The hallowing of the sacred flame at Gettysburg is matched by an equally intense desacralizing instinct, yet even that zealous iconoclasm has a mystic quality of its own.
When I visited the Hudson Valley School painter Thomas Cole’s house in upstate New York, I noticed a tag informing me that an object had been “owned by an enslaver” (or words to that effect). I was struck by the implication that the object was stained somehow. We might not use the word “sin” anymore, but the concept is still there. The extreme scrupulosity, combined – naturally – with an Indigenous land acknowledgment, wasn’t even for Thomas Cole, but for the people who had owned the house before him. My goodness, I thought, how stressful it must be to live in a constant state of confession of an ancestor’s sins. The past is never dead. It’s not even past.
Hannah Long, Hallowed and Haunted
Shorts
- The Republican Party worshiped the god of political expediency. Once political power became their idol, they lost control. (Nancy French, Ghosted)
- I got a head start because my ancestors started practicing miscegenation before it was fashionable … In my symbolic family tree there’s a place for Mahatma Gandhi, Anna Akhmatova, Duke Ellington, Mister Rogers, Sappho, Anthony Bourdain, Julian of Norwich, Virginia Woolf, Miguel de Unamuno, Rainer Maria Rilke, Audrey Hepburn, Willa Cather, Cary Grant, Søren Kierkegaard, Frederick Douglass, Hannah Arendt, and many others. (Ted Gioia, reflecting on his identity as an American both in terms of physical inheritance and of chosen influences.)
- Was Jeannie Gates right about America?
- “If you invested $10,000 in Trump coin on January 20th, 2025, it would be worth $415 today. You lost everything. He made half a billion,” – Chris Mowrey via Andrew Sullivan.
- “[Trump has] made more money in one year than his entire life combined. That’s not business, it’s corruption,” – Fred Wellman via Andrew Sullivan.
- “Intel came in. They had a problem. I said, ‘I can solve your problem, but I want 10% of the company,’” – Donald Trump via Andrew Sullivan.
- Facebook, Fox and MSNBC have done to our parents what they warned computer gaming would do to us. (Jonah Goldberg)
Elsewhere in Tipsyworld
- The misfortune of the Roberts court
- Birthright Citizenship
- Where would we be without goofy polls?
- 22,000 stock trades in 11 months – Breadcrumbs along my trail
Your enemies are not demonic, and they are not all-powerful and the right hasn’t always lost and the left hasn’t always won. But if you convince yourself of that, you give yourselves all sorts of permission to do a lot of stupid and terrible things under the rubric of “Do you know what time it is?”
I don’t do any of the major social media, but I have two sub-domains of the domain you’re currently reading: (a) You can read most of my reflexive stuff, especially political here. (b) I also post some things on my favorite no-algorithm social medium.
UPDATE: Boy, that’s kind of embarrassing. I thought I had finally figured out what this big birthday was called, and I published this using the term “semisesquicentennial.” That was so wrong that I couldn’t bear leaving it – or pretending it never happened.
