Saturday, May 7, 2016

Star Trek: And The Children Shall Lead

So, with our country facing the very real possibility of Donald Trump as President, why am I suddenly writing about a particularly bad Star Trek episode that first aired way back in 1968?  I suppose I can give three reasons, though hardly excuses.  First, I need something to take my mind off Trump for a while.  Second, it says something about And the Children Shall Lead that both SF Debris and The Agony Booth both list it as the worst Star Trek (Original Series) episode ever, edging out even Spock's Brain.

I am inclined to disagree.  The trouble with Spock's Brain was that it was just bad.  The trouble with And the Children Shall Lead was that it had the potential to be something better and utterly, completely failed.  I find it to be less fun to review something that is just bad than something that has flaws but could be better.  How much imagination does it take to say, "This is bad?"  But looking behind the flawed story for something better that could be there -- now that is intriguing.*  Third and finally, I have been doing some lawyer work related to social services taking children from their parents, which always drives home the ambiguity in children's attitude toward their parents.  On the one hand, children naturally resent their parents.  Parents are always making rules and restrictions and keeping children from doing what they want.  On the other hand, children naturally love their parents and are devastated at being separated from them.  And the Children Shall Lead plays on that ambiguity, though not very well.  I will also cite to other works that play on the same theme, better than And the Children Shall Lead, although I would not truly call any of them all that good.

Consider Spock’s Brain.  The episode is about a planet in an ice age in which all the men, known as Morgs, live on the surface in a Paleolithic culture while all the women, known as Eymorgs, wear miniskirts and thigh boots and live in an underground cavern full of super high technology, run by a super computer that does all their thinking for them.  Not explained – where little Morgs and Eymorgs come from.** The Controller of the Eymorgs’ computer has worn out so they need a new one.  So naturally their high priestess pilots a super high-tech one person ship to intercept the Enterprise, beams on board, pushes a button that knocks everyone unconscious, and steals Spock’s brain to operate their computer.  Thanks to her extraordinary surgical skill, he survives long enough to be put on life support, but unless they put it back, he will die within 24 hours.  They trace the ship’s trail to the planet and beam down, only to discover that with a computer doing all their thinking for them, the Eymorgs have completely forgotten how and become utter, world class ditzes.  (It is really disturbing how often Star Trek identified attractiveness in women with ditziness).  But there is a device that programs the Old Knowledge into the Eymorg high priestess, although the effect wears off before long.  McCoy uses the device on himself and replaces Spock’s brain, without any serious thought to the fact that they are (1) destroying an entire civilization that way, and (2) denying Spock the chance to live 10,000 years (but without a body, as controller of a computer).

If there is anything of value that can be salvaged from that episode then I, for one, cannot detect it.  And the Children Shall Lead is a different matter.  It has elements that have worked quite well in other cases – the Enterprise approaching a ship/colony/ outpost only to find everyone dead under very strange circumstances and then the same strange things starting to happen to the crew as well, the apocalyptic log warning of their predecessor’s fate, the creepy legend that turns out to be true – as well as an attempt to look at children’s ambiguity toward their parents – that mixture of resentment and love, with love prevailing in the end.  But in the end what they wind up with is not a real story, but the skeleton of a story with no flesh on its bones.  Or, perhaps, with some generic substance trying to pass itself off as flesh but failing.  So maybe why some people dislike And the Children Shall Lead more than unabashedly bad episodes like Spock’s Brain is that it falls into the Uncanny Valley of Star Trek episodes.  Instead of being an actually good episode, or an irredeemably bad episode, it is sort of a lifeless automaton impersonating a good episode just closely enough to inspire revulsion.

So, on to And the Children Shall Lead, in detail.

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*Hence my fascination with reviewing False Memories, with a particular emphasis on all the dangling clues that go nowhere and how they might be put to better use.

**It is true that Eymorgs kidnap Morgs and keep them as slaves, controlled by belts that inflict extreme pain if they disobey.  Morgs refer to Eymorgs as “the givers of pain and delight.”  The delight part is never directly addressed.  My Star Trek Concordance assumed that it had something to do with their pain belts that could give delight as well.  But other people have commented the women have never needed high tech gadgetry to give men delight, and that maybe besides punishing disobedient Morgs, they may reward good ones . . .

Thursday, May 5, 2016

Trump and Palin

Okay, I lied.  I just can't seem to resist circling back to Trump.  (I am becoming so obsessed with Donald Trump I may need to make him a label).

Trump has sometimes been compared to Sarah Palin.  They resemble each other in the sense that both are manifestly unqualified for the office they are running for and both try conceal their ignorance of the most basic issues by giving completely incoherent answers.

But there are differences.

Palin, after all, was running for Vice President.  Trump is running for President.  If McCain won there was a risk of Palin become President, but it was not all that great.  If Trump wins, he will be President.

Palin, before running for Vice President, was Governor of Alaska.  She did not know enough about national and international issues to be qualified to be President, but she knew the issues facing Alaska and knew the basics of how government works.  Trump has never held any office whatever and shows no sign of having any interest in any political issue in any meaningful sense; he just says whatever is the best applause line.

Palin was experientially unqualified to be President, but this was a remediable defect.  If Palin had been so inclined, she could have studied hard, worked hard, apprenticed to the job, and become qualified.  That she chose not to and instead preferred to mock to whole idea of knowledge being essential to holding office and proclaim her ignorance as proof of virtue proved to me that she was temperamentally unqualified for the office as well.

Trump, on the other hand -- well, what can I say?  Trump has made it abundantly clear that he knows nothing about the issues, that he cares nothing about the issues, that he sees no need to have knowledge about the subject to make the decisions, and no need to have advisers who know what they are talking about.  And there is his utter contempt for any source of guidance other than his own instinct.  So, yeah, I would say this makes Trump temperamentally unfit to be President.

Palin has been accused of being vindictive as Governor.  I have no idea whether the accusation is true or not.  The trouble with that sort of accusations is that they are very much interpretation after the fact, in the light of later opinions.  To convince me that Palin was vindictive as Governor, you would have to present me with significant contemporary evidence for it.  Trump's vindictiveness is obvious.

Palin has been accused of being thin-skinned.  Quite simply, if you want to run for President, or any office on the national stage, you have to have a very thick hide indeed.  I don't think Palin was ready for it.  What was simply the way things happen when you run for Presidency she took as a personal feud by the liberal media.  The experience has left her resentful and embittered, and it is hard to blame her altogether.  A lot of what she was mocked for really was just not being ready for the national stage and not understanding the in's and out's of Washington culture, which is hard to see as a failing.  But that still does not excuse the career she chose afterward, of being sort of a caricature of her old self.  But at least that caricature isn't running for President.

Trump is a classic case of the bully who can dish it out but he can't take it.  Given his calculated obnoxiousness and desire to offend, you would think he has a hide like Superman.  But much as he goes well beyond the normal rough and tumble of politics, he can't handle it when that rough and tumble is directed toward him.  He refuses to speak to Megan Kelly when she asks a too-pointed question.  He talks of changing libel laws to shut down people who criticize him.  He goes on the warpath and assumes that he has not choice but to make a public issue when Marco Rubio says he has small hands (with the implication that he has a small something else).

And then, too, Sarah Palin, as a woman, can't get away with being as vulgar and deliberately offensive and Trump does.  Of course, it isn't just women; no one can get away with being as vulgar and deliberately offensive as Trump is; if you doubt me, just ask Marco Rubio.

My employer nailed it perfectly, I think, when he called Trump a know-nothing know-it-all.  He is the guy at the table who has all the answers without having the least idea what he is talking about.  Around the table, people like that are just annoying.  As President, they are disastrous.  At least Palin was just a know-nothing and proud of it.

Or, to take a baseball metaphor, Sarah Palin was a promising player in the minor leagues, but far from a star, trying to make it to the top of the big league without the time, training and practice needed to make the transition.  Trump is the guy who watches a lot of baseball but has never played in his life, criticizes what various players do, and now thinks he is qualified to pitch in the World Series.  There are people like that.  But most of them don't actually, you know, get the chance to pitch in the World Series.

And Trump isn't just pitching in the World Series; he has a very real chance of becoming President.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

A Quick Note on Bernie Sanders

While I have focused obsessively on Trump, I do want to add that this post perfectly expresses my view of Bernie Sanders:
With the Democratic primary basically over, I want to step back a bit and explain the big-picture reason that I never warmed up to Bernie Sanders. It's not so much that he's all that far to my left, nor that he's been pretty skimpy on details about all the programs he proposes. That's hardly uncommon in presidential campaigns. Rather, it's the fact that I think he's basically running a con, and one with the potential to cause distinct damage to the progressive cause.
. . . . . . 
[I]f you want to make a difference in this country, you need to be prepared for a very long, very frustrating slog. You have to buy off interest groups, compromise your ideals, and settle for half loaves—all the things that Bernie disdains as part of the corrupt mainstream establishment. In place of this he promises his followers we can get everything we want via a revolution that's never going to happen. And when that revolution inevitably fails, where do all his impressionable young followers go? Do they join up with the corrupt establishment and commit themselves to the slow boring of hard wood? Or do they give up?
You know, sort of the Left's answer to Ted Cruz.

Well, That Wraps it Up, I Guess

So Ted Cruz, Donald Trump's only serious challenger, has dropped out of the race.  So I think we can safely assume that Trump now has the nomination wrapped up and can turn to the general election.  I now plan to drop the subject of Donald Trump for the time being and move on to other things.  Ancient Greece will be one, but I have something else planned first.

Trump and Fascism (You Knew This Was Coming, Didn't You?)

OK, you knew this was coming sooner or later.  Since I have applied the traits of fascism to miscellaneous other leaders and movements, what about Donald Trump?  A lot of people have called him a fascist.  I personally regard Trump as a bunch of hot air and am more concerned about his utter lack of competence to be President, or even to choose advisers who know what they are doing than any fascistic traits, but be might was well go ahead and see how they apply.

A middle class populist movement that both punches up and kicks down, but mostly kicks down.  Perhaps it would be even better to say lower middle class which is where Mussolini and Hitler drew the bulk of their support, among people who feared the working class below them.  That is a fair description of Trump's movement, although his followers are better described as the white working class that fears the poor minorities below them.  But I think the working class may be considered the new lower middle class.  Trump does a fair amount of punching up at political correctness and Republican elites, but the bulk of his fire is directed at those below.

Fascism is driven by fear and ambition, but fear predominates.  Well, the ambition, at least on Trump's part is obvious.  Among his followers, I see more resentment and hope, rather than fear.  But fear showed up when the shooters in California turned out to be Muslims.  Fear drives the general resistance to Muslim immigration.  I would say that Trump plays more to ambition than fear, but fear is right below the surface.  And Trump is never so dangerous as when it starts to bubble up.

A paramilitary party that has taken over the state (or aspires to take over the state) and claims (or aspires to claim) an effective monopoly of political activity.
  Donald Trump does not have a paramilitary.  Even his worst enemies from David Neiwert to Andrew Sullivan admit as much.  That is kind of, sort of important.  What about the violence at Trump rallies?  I am less concerned about occasional clashes between demonstrators and counter-demonstrators, which is simply a fact of life, than with Trump's enthusiasm for such clashes.  But what alarms me most, frankly, is the anti-Trump demonstrators who actively seek to shut him down.  Trump, it should be noted, has not made any attempt to shut anyone else down.  To the extent that there is violence at his rallies, so far it is defensive violence, and it is the demonstrators who are invading his turf.  It is true that after one such rally was shut down, Trump tweeted a threat to respond in kind. That would have been troubling.  But Trump appears to have gotten the memo that he was going to far, because he has not repeated the threat.  If Trump supporters were out trying to shut down rallies by his opponents, I would worry. But as it is now, this one is clearly a "no."

And now the old standbys.

From Stanley Payne, in Fascism: Comparison and Definition (1980):

The fascist negations:

Anti-radical:  Not especially so.  The radical Left is really not much of a threat in the US today.  Admittedly, fascism often preys on an exaggerated fear of radicalism far out of proportion to the actual facts.  And these days some people are alarmed over Black Lives Matter or over the latest dust-up on college campuses. But Trump is not expending much energy on fulminating against campus radicals, nor to his supporters particularly seem to care about the subject.*  Trump and his followers seem somewhat opposed to Black Lives Matter, but that is much less a priority than immigration. Trump's most anti-radical position is his opposition to an ill-defined "political correctness," and it is hard to see that as anything more than simply a fondness for giving offense.

Anti-liberal:  If liberal means favoring social breadth (as I have been arguing) and expanding the circle of social commitment, then Trump is anti-liberal.  His anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim broadsides are definitely anti-liberal.  And his dislike of "political correctness" sounds very much like a simple desire to be narrower and less inclusive.

Anti-conservative:  A whole lot of conservatives think so.  And if conservatism means anything like respect for tradition or showing self-restraint, then doubly so.

Ideology and goals:

-- Creation of a new nationalist authoritarian state based not merely on traditional principles or models
-- Organization of some new kind of regulated, multiclass, integrated national economic structure, whether called national corporatist, national socialist, or national syndicalist
-- The goal of empire or a radical change in the nation’s relationship with other powers
-- Specific espousal of an idealist, voluntarist creed, normally involving the attempt to realize a new form of modern, self-determined, secular culture.

I am still struggling to figure out what any of these mean.  Whatever they mean, it seems a good bet that neither Trump nor his followers are looking for anything so extreme.  In fact, I am increasingly beginning to believe that it is the matter of ideology and goals that most distinguishes true fascism from mere right wing populism backed by violence.  The Ku Klux Klan, for instance, really did become the paramilitary arm of the Southern Democratic Party and did establish a one-party state.  It might be considered proto-fascist, but it was never truly fascist because it had none of fascism's ideology and goals.  (And I have discussed at some length why these ideology and goals make no sense whatever in the context of Classical antiquity).

Style and Organization: 

-- Emphasis on aesthetic structure of meetings, symbols, and political choreography, stressing romantic and mystical aspects.  I suppose the baseball caps might be called this, but basically no, or at least no more than any other political candidate.  
 
-- Attempted mass mobilization with militarization of political relationships and style and with the goal of a mass party militia.  Well, mass mobilization to the extent that any political candidate attempts it, and more successful than many.  But no sign of militarization or mass party militia.

-- Positive evaluation and use of, or willingness to use, violence.  Actually a bit mixed there.  Yes, Trump does have a disturbing tendency to glorify violence by his supporters against protesters who disrupt his rallies.  But he has not gone on the offensive, and does not really glorify violence in the same way that true fascists do.
 
-- Extreme stress on the masculine principle and male dominance, while espousing the organic view of society.  Yes.  Trump has a massive case of testosterone poisoning, and I think we can make a very good argument that his whole movement is rife with the same thing.
 
-- Exaltation of youth above other phases of life, emphasizing the conflict of generations, at least in effecting the initial political transformation.  No, I don't see any signs of this.  Trump's supporters tend to be older, while younger voters are most opposed to him.
 
-- Specific tendency toward an authoritarian, charismatic, personal style of command, whether or not the command is to some degree initially elective.  Well, duh!  It is this, and his apparent utter lack of understanding of democratic institutions and norms that makes Trump so alarming.

So, in short, Trump is both anti-liberal and anti-conservative.  He shares none of the ideology and goals of fascism.  Nor does he have its violent and militaristic traits.  The main thing Trump has in common with fascism as Payne defines it is the extreme focus on a charismatic leader and one-man rule.

Robert O. Paxton, The Anatomy of Fascism, and the "nine mobilizing passions":

-- a sense of overwhelming crisis beyond the reach of any traditional solutions:  Yes and no.  Trump does do some fear-mongering, particularly in terms of Muslim immigration and of saying that the world is more dangerous than ever before, but then again, all Republican candidates say that. What I see a whole lot more than the sense of crisis is the sense of being mad as hell and not going to take it anymore, and of finally having found a leader who speaks to them.

-- the primacy of the group, toward which one has duties superior to every right, whether universal or individual, and the subordination of the individual to it:  I am inclined to say no.  Yes, there is the sense of being the great silent majority finally finding its voice and reaching its rightful place of domination, but I don't see the great sense of subordination of the individual to the group.

-- the belief that one's group is a victim, a sentiment which justifies any action, without legal or moral limits, against the group's enemies, both internal and external:
  The sense of victimization yes, absolutely.  The sense of revenge, probably to some degree.  But I really don't see it going this far.

-- dread of the group's decline under the corrosive effect of individualistic liberalism, class conflict, and alien influences:  Dread of the group's decline, yes, absolutely.  Trump followers seem to be acting largely out of fear of American being inundated by immigrants and losing its national and cultural identity.  So yes, to the alien influences.  I don't think so much in terms of individualistic liberalism or class conflict.

-- the need for closer integration of a purer community, by consent if possible, or by exclusionary violence if necessary:
   Yes, I think this is the main thing driving Trump followers.  It certainly accounts for their hostility to immigration, and to a lesser extent to trade and foreign engagement (whether by diplomacy or war).  But, again, I think their capacity for violence has been much exaggerated.

-- the need for authority by natural leaders (always male), culminating in a national chief who alone is capable of incarnating the group's destiny:
  Well, duh!

-- the superiority of the leader's instincts over abstract and universal reason:
  Yes.  Trump is obviously, grossly unqualified and has nothing but contempt for people who actually know anything about how real governments work.  But he proclaims his instincts will provide all the answers.  And his followers eat it up.

-- the beauty of violence and the efficacy of will, when they are devoted to the group's success:
  Once again, there have been sporadic outbreaks of violence at his rallies, but nothing approaching what one would see with true fascism.  If he starts using violence to intimidate political rivals, I will be alarmed.  So far, there has only been one ill-considered threat.

-- the right of the chosen people to dominate others without restraint from any kind of human or divine law, right being decided by the sole criterion of the group's prowess in a Darwinian struggle:
  Again, yes and no.  Trump followers do seem to see themselves as the great silent majority about to regain its rightful place as America's rulers.  But I see no sign that it goes anywhere near this far.

Conclusion:  I think Trump and his supporters show a lot of the mobilizing passions of fascism in milder form.  What really strikes me, though, is the extent to which his movement is build on hope and promise rather than fear.  A lot of the nastiness of fascism (and many other forms of right wing populism) are rooted directly in its sense of fear and its ability to tap into the cornered animal instinct. I see a lot of bad characteristics in Trump, but that is not one of them.  In the end, I would still say that Trump is a bunch of hot air, telling whatever lie he thinks will win votes, utterly unqualified to govern and unaware that he even needs to be qualified.  It would be a disaster if he won the election.  But I would not call him a fascist.

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*The link shows that "authoritarians" don't much care about campus speech codes and don't care at all about campus affirmative action.  Admittedly, that is a survey for "authoritarians" rather than Trump supporters, but the findings are suggestive.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Trump Exposed the Schism; He Did Not Create It

Traditionally, the Republican Party is described as an awkward coalition between economic libertarians and social conservatives who have little in common.  But Trump is revealing a third element that might be called nationalist, populist, Fortress America, or less flattering names.  One usually hears the libertarians referred to as the Republican elite and the social conservatives as the rank-and-file, but that is proving to be only partly true.  Certainly it is true that the libertarians are a decidedly upscale bunch and dominate the Republican donor class.  But the religious/social conservatives have a significant elite leadership consisting of preacher and (some) pundits, and their influence in the party is real and significant (especially on the issue of Israel).

Liberals and, to a considerable extent, the Republican leadership, have conflated the social conservatives and the Fortress America crowd as the Republican rank-and-file, but Trump supporters are making clear that this is not so.  The most socially conservative element of the Republican Party -- southern, Evangelical Christian, regular church goers -- mostly supports Ted Cruz.  Trump supporters are typically not especially religious, not regular church goers, and only slightly socially conservative.  Their biggest issue appears to be disengaging from the outside world, whether in the form of immigration, foreign trade, diplomacy, or war.

And one can understand the Fortress America crowd's frustration.  Until the Donald Trump candidacy, it had no real representatives in the Republican elite and no place at table.  The libertarian leadership was forever advocating free trade and at least toying with the idea of an opening to immigrants, while really most focused on cutting its own taxes.  To the extent it made gestures toward the rank-and-file, these mostly consisted of opposition to abortion and same sex marriage, which just are not priorities for Fortress Americans.  Religious conservatives often complain that Republican donors want to buy them off with empty pandering, but Fortress Americans don't get even that.  Until now.

Donald Trump has exposed this schism; he did not create it.  Indeed, some commentators have remarked at similar candidates have been popping up quite regularly -- George Wallace, Pat Buchanan, Ross Perot, and Ron Paul all blazed the trail that Donald Trump is now treading so confidently.  Trump is the most mainstream of the bunch.  Wallace was a flat-out racist; Buchanan was an anti-Semite with fascistic tendencies; Perot showed signs of clinical paranoia; and Paul had wacky goldbug ideas.  Before his run for President Trump's politics, to the extent that he had any at all, were completely conventional.  Even now, his views on subjects other than immigration are unremarkable.

So far as I can tell, these are how the three main components of the Republican coalition break down:


Libertarian
Social conservative
Fortress America
Base
High income and education, donor class
Southern, Evangelical Christian, church goers
Older, working class, no college education
Leaders
Paul Ryan, Rand Paul, Koch Brothers
Ted Cruz, Mike Huckabee, Pat Robertson
Donald Trump, much of talk radio
Priorities
Cutting taxes, reducing regulation, cutting spending
Abortion, same sex marriage, religious exemptions
Immigration, foreign trade, no ground wars
Foreign policy
Extreme hawks, oppose diplomacy, favor war
Absolute support for Israel, oppose diplomacy
Disengagement, oppose both diplomacy and war
Taxes
Cutting rates is top priority
Not a priority
Not a priority
Obamacare
Oppose
Oppose
Oppose
Social Security/Medicare
Want to cut, turn to defined contribution, or phase out
Want to preserve
Want to preserve
Government spending
Oppose, except for war
Oppose in theory, less so in practice
Oppose in theory, less so in practice
Abortion, same sex marriage
Favor
Oppose
Indifferent
Immigration
Favor, but not a priority
Mixed
Opposed, top priority
Free trade
Favor
Mixed
Oppose
Black Lives Matter
Indifferent to mild support
Mixed
Oppose

So the real question has to be what to make of the Fortress America crowd.  How large a share of the Republican Party are they?  Do they deserve a respectable place in American politics or are they, after all, just a bunch of bigots and authoritarians? Is their propensity toward disreputable leaders like Wallace, Buchanan, Perot, Ron Paul, and Donald Trump a sign of dangerous authoritarianism, or simply an understandable frustration at being shut out of the political process and denied any "respectable" leadership?

I confess to not having the answers just yet, but these are important questions to keep in mind, and to explore.

So, What Are We to Make of All This

So, if one is willing to accept my taxonomy that liberals are people who value social breadth over social depth and conservatives are people who value social depth over social breadth, what are we to make of it?  Where to we go from here?  (And by we, I specifically mean we liberals, valuing breadth over depth).

A few suggestions here.

Learn to see things in terms of depth versus breadth.  Recognize that both are good, but that there is a trade-off between them.  And stop defining social good solely in terms of breadth.  This is not to say stop promoting breadth.  Breadth is good and valuable.  But so is depth.  So start looking for ways to cultivate depth as well as breadth and start learning to appreciate its value.

Don't mock.  Read and re-read this column explaining to people who prefer breadth why depth is a valuable thing.  It features John Wayne reading a poem celebrating the virtues of social depth.  The author apologizes for it being so "kitschy," but invites the listener to admire its "lack of irony or cynicism."  And ask yourself, seriously, what is wrong with the social vision it sets forth.  A lack of breadth, most liberals will presumably respond.  The charming, close-knit society being celebrated had an ugly sign out that said, "For Whites Only."  And no doubt it could be uncomfortable for a lot of non-conformists.  But in spite of all that, the sort of social depth it celebrates is a good thing, one that liberals tend to overlook in seeking ever greater breadth, and one we should learn better to appreciate.  So, really, is there any harm in learning to respect what other people cherish and hold sacred, and in giving up the condescension over its "kitschiness," and the insistence on "irony and cynicism."  Then turn to this column, which says many of the same things in much harsher tones, though no harsher than many of its readers deserve.

Understand the mockery that comes the other way.  I am not saying accept the real hatred spewed on talk radio; that is simply authoritarian.  But try to understand why someone who places a high value on social depth might be repulsed by an obsessive focus on breadth.  If you are inclined to snort at John Wayne celebrating social depth and respond with cynicism, give some thought to why conservatives might snort (as they so often do) at liberal kitsch, why they might use "kumbaya" as  sneer word and be so cynically contemptuous of liberal visions of universal peace and brotherhood.  What is wrong with the liberal vision?  Well, what is wrong with the conservative vision?  And if your answer is that is an illusion, or that it lacks breadth, consider the possibility that conservatives consider liberal "kumbaya" brotherhood as no less of an illusion, and lacking in depth.

And accept that for people who prefer depth to breadth, a lot of the usual conservative jeers about liberals -- vapid, superficial, faddish, frivolous, inauthentic, hypocritical -- have some truth to them. They reflect the inevitable loss of depth that accompanies a growth in breadth.  Liberals sometimes share these criticisms.  But what we may not appreciate is just how repugnant that lack of depth can be in people who really value it.

And keep in mind that there is a good deal of truth to another frequent conservative jibe -- that liberals' tolerance extends to everyone -- except white American Christian conservatives.  This is all too often true.  And yes, it is a failing.  That being said, it is by no means a failing unique to American liberals.  The world over, we find ethnic (or religious or ideological) groups whose greatest enemy is whatever other group is closest by.  American liberals are not exception.  But then again, most groups of bigots don't claim to be champions of tolerance and breadth.  We do, and properly so. Openness to opposing opinions and ideologies is a part of social breadth.  We are going to have to learn to broaden our breadth enough to include American conservatives.

And recognize liberal political coalitions for what they are.  People who value social breadth want to expand the circle of social commitment and let more people in.  Naturally this leads to an alliance with the people who would benefit from such an expansion.  Today that may be gays or immigrants; other times it might be ethnic minorities; in the nineteenth century it was the propertyless working class.  But this is an alliance of convenience, not conviction.  Accept that the people you want to work to include may value depth over breadth in their own lives and seek breadth in the greater society only to the extent that it means including them.  Indeed, excluded groups often have the greatest focus on depth of all, and necessarily so since they are faced with a hostile society and have only their own community to draw on for support.  And face it, the sneer at liberals as elitists has a good deal of truth -- the focus on breadth over depth does appear to be a mostly elite trait.

And I am not saying that we should give up social breadth.  Social breadth is good.  Just consider how cruel tight-knit societies with an exclusive focus on depth can be and we can see the value of breadth, even if purchased at the price of a certain shallowness.  But stop thinking of it as the only good.  Recognize how good people could prefer depth.  And that society needs people who value both.