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You know the famous statement by pastor Martin Niemöller, who was imprisoned by the Nazis: “First they came for the Socialists and I did not speak out because I was not a Socialist,” and then after the Nazis came for the Trade Unionists, the Jews, and others on their list, they came for him, and “there was no one left to speak out on my behalf.”
Trump seems to have solved the Niemöller problem by going after all of his enemies simultaneously, like some reincarnation of Joe McCarthy, lying and confabulating at will about imagined threats, trying to frighten and intimidate those not immediately targeted into silence and a shamed acquiescence. (Roy Cohn, the consigliere to both McCarthy and the new president, is the obvious link between the two men.) read more

Kapos were Jews who served as lackeys of the Nazis and their role in the Holocaust has remained an open wound in Jewish memory. Regrettably, it has since been used to smear fellow Jews as traitors/betrayers of the worse kind. Right-wingers have used it to vilify and silence liberal Zionists who support peace and a two state agreement. read more

It may be the most beloved song in the entire Jewish tradition, Dayenu. It is, as Gavriel Rosenfeld points out in his introduction to What Ifs of Jewish History: From Abraham to Zionism (Cambridge University Press, 2016), edited by Gavriel D. Rosenfeld, Judaism’s first foray into counterfactual history, the exploration of how alternative pasts might lead to alternative presents and different futures. Rosenfeld is a reigning expert of counterfactual history, especially the enormous subfield of Nazi counterfactuals. (His recent book, Hi Hitler! How the Nazi Past is Being Normalized in Contemporary Culture,   has to be the funniest title for any historical monograph in recent history.) read more

What would be worse? Allowing Trump to become president, and then watching him violate the rules, principles, and foundations of America’s democracy, or trying, democratically if possible, but extra-democratically if necessary, to prevent him from becoming president? I’m not sure how I would answer, but I never thought that I would ever be seriously asking this question. What a tragic day for America.

Here’s the situation: The Electoral College, or rather 51 mini-electoral colleges, in each state and the District of Columbia, will be meeting next Monday. They will almost certainly elect Donald Trump to be the next president of the United States. Once the electors meet, and the House of Representatives ratify the result, legally, the only way to remove Trump will be by impeachment, finding him guilty of “high crimes and misdemeanors.” read more

The paradox: Can a legitimately elected president be illegitimate? As Ian Millhiser has written, “to declare him illegitimate is to shake the foundations of the American system, to fail to do so is to risk leveling those foundations to the ground.” Both are terrible choices. He is legitimate because, under the rules (and they are of course remarkably stupid rules) governing the election of a president, he won the election. He is illegitimate because it seems clear that he does not feel bound by the rules, written or unwritten; regulations; customary practices and the like that have governed the presidency. Beyond the groups that he has announced he will target, especially undocumented residents and Muslims, the rights of everyone is at risk. He will make the press a frequent target of his attack, and he will ruthlessly attack critics—never has the term “bully pulpit” been more appropriate, and he will use every tactic and gambit available to maintain his power, and vaingloriously magnify himself, a Caligulan presidency. read more

Last night at the Children’s Defense Gala you were honored for your lifelong work on behalf of children. It was, as you said, very difficult for you to come. But you showed up and told us that we matter.  So in my garden I still have your 2016 campaign sign, a reminder of what really matters.

We, the people who supported you want you to know that in the coming years as we face serious challenges we will recall your tireless work here and around the world for women’s rights that is human rights. We will continue your fight for justice. We will show compassion and do for you what you would have liked to do for your mother when she, a frightened child at age 8 was sent away on a train to an unknown future. We will hug her/you and tell you that your name is already inscribed on the distinguished list of the finest world leaders who care about humanity and respect human rights. On the campaign trail you said that you spoke in prose, yet your lifework for human rights is remarkably poetic. read more

So, to complete my horrid week, last Saturday afternoon, Clemson’s football team, previously undefeated, ranked #2, was upset by the University of Pittsburgh, 43–42, on a last second field goal. I went to the game with the expectation that I would be able, at the least, to cheer at least one victor last week. No such luck.

Now, when you lose a game by a single point, there are almost an infinite number of possible reasons for the loss; if only we had picked up that first down when we were 4^th and I at the 6-yard line; if only our star quarterback hadn’t thrown that interception right into the hands of the defender in the end zone; if only we had been able to tackle the running back behind the line of scrimmage, before he feinted and went on a 70-yard touchdown run; if only the officials hadn’t called that phantom pass interference call on us; if only the refs had called an obvious pass interference call them. read more

On Thanksgiving weekend, in 1980, I went to the Weavers Reunion concert at Carnegie Hall. It was a memorable evening. The original four members of the Weavers—Pete Seeger, Ronnie Gilbert, Lee Hays, and Fred Hellerman–hadn’t appeared together in concert in about a quarter century. For people from left-wing (a euphemism for communist) households, like myself, having grown up listening to the Weavers since my nonage, it was an irresistible opportunity and an unforgettable evening.   The concert took place a few weeks after Reagan was elected, and there weren’t a lot of Reagan voters in the crowd. Lee Hays, a few months before he died, his gravelly baritone now reduced to a whisper, told the crowd “this too will pass, like a kidney stone.”   I think that gets it about right, with a glance towards the future, and a recognition of the coming of hard, immediate pain. read more