Book Reviews
Read what your fellow East Nantmeal residents have to say about books by and about today’s politics and politicians.
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Good Bridges Make Good Neighbors
This America: The Case For The Nation by Jill Lepore
How to Know A Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen by David Brooks
Book reviews by Nancy Rosenberger
Jill Lepore, Harvard University Professor of American History, and David Brooks, columnist for The New York Times and writer for The Atlantic, laud the building of bridges, the strengthening of community and the joy of being seen and heard. Together Lepore's This America: The Case For The Nation, and Brooks' How To Know A Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen offer a dialogue that speaks to our sore need to heal a fragmented America.
Lepore describes the historic emergence of two American nations: two forms of nationalism, liberal and illiberal. Both, she believes, must be researched, explored, contrasted, discussed in political debates, and studied in classrooms. Without a rigorous defense of its liberal roots, a nation may erode into a political system that "eats liberalism." Lepore asserts that Americans are both bound together and fragmented by "the strength of our ideas and by the force of our disagreements." Our history, however, may offer ways of sustaining the former and healing the latter. A "clear-eyed reckoning" with our country's larger vision would reinforce a dedication to a national community that would "foster a spirit of citizenship and environmental stewardship."
Instead, Lepore writes, scholars focus on groups divided by race, sex, or class. Yes, the results of such meticulous research have described the lives and struggles and triumphs of Americans that earlier generations of historians had ignored. But scholars then stopped writing national history. She asserts that as a result we have lost a sense of our agreed-upon past, our common story. And that is when we lose the vision of a people dedicated to the belief that "all people are equal and endowed from birth with inalienable rights and entitled to equal treatment, guaranteed by a nation of laws." This loss demands a renewal of our belief that we are one people, that we the United States of America.
And how does the average citizen practice the laying down of stones, of swords and shields? How does the average citizen instead reach out a hand that supports the building of bridges?
David Brooks' exploration of the art of seeing another deeply, and in turn of being deeply seen is rich in ways to build those bridges that heal families, friendships, and communities.
Brooks’ approach is both pragmatic and inspirational. He offers stories of isolation, depression, and fragmentation with compassion, but without sentimentality. He also explores the healing art of seeing deeply as well as the intense pleasure of being seen. He explores ways of asking the right questions, of offering empathy, of accompanying, rather than instructing another. One wonders if this art of seeing and listening deeply to alienated individuals might also help heal the fragmentatn of communities, political parties, and even nations.
What would happen if disparate political groups together discussed and practiced Brook's concept of being an "Illuminator," one who has a "persistent curiosity about other people"? Illuminators, he claims, have learned to listen to and to understand others. This understanding does not lead to capitulation, to loss of personal beliefs, but it may lead to an insight, an enlightenment into why another human being thinks, feels, acts as he or she does they do, to even a recognition of a common humanity?
I find it intriguing and even electrifying that two very different works can speak to one another. Lepore’s is an exploration of scholarship, of nationhood, of national healing, Brooks' an exploration of humanity, of connection, of individual growth.
"Something there is that doesn't love a wall, that wants it down," Robert Frost wrote. Emily Dickinson described her dwelling as a place rich in Possibilities, a place “numerous" of windows and doors." Could good bridges possibly make good neighbors? Should we build more windows and doors into our minds and hearts? Is it possible both political pragmatists and political idealists might want to invite the poets through the walls and over the bridges, thus creating a dialogue that is open, diverse, and even revitalizing?
Attack from Within, by Barbara McQuade
Review by Nancy Rosenberger
“… you and I differ, but we differ as rational friends,
using the free exercise of our own reason and mutually
indulging its errors.”
Thomas Jefferson, “Letter to John Adams”
Who cannot conjure the image of Times Square and the embrace of a young sailor and a girl with one leg bent for balance? Joy. Peace.
On May 8, 1945, my dad put away his air raid warden’s helmet and armband. At dusk we made sure all window shades were up and light streamed from windows onto lawns, ours and the neighbors’. We celebrated, for now there would be peace in our time. The world was safe for Democracy. I was 8 years old, and though limited in factual information, I was filled with joy. My uncle would come home from the Philippines, wherever they were. Rationing would end. We believed “All shall be well. And all shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.”
It is now 2024. I am 87 years old. I have just finished reading Attack From Within. As early as page 5, Barbara McQuade, a lawyer, professor of law, a legal analyst for NBC and MSNBC, a co-host of the podcast #SistersInLaw, and a former US Attorney for the Eastern District of Michigan, begins by warning the reader that American democracy is “undergoing a slow erosion, invisible in real time but as devastating as a metastasizing cancer.” Today, she writes that our “enemies are misinformation and disinformation spread by those willing to do or say anything to seize power.“ In clear and precise prose Mc Quade defines disinformation as the deliberate use of lies designed to manipulate dupes who repeat and repeat and repeat the lies they believe to be true. She concludes her book with carefully considered methods designed to promote the healing of a fragmenting nation.
The first section of Attack From Within details the power of disinformation, its different forms, and its impact on past governments, while always returning to and focusing upon our current American upheaval. The news is filled with examples of political opportunists and profiteers that use disinformation as a weapon to control susceptible voters. “Lies are becoming normalized, and our democracy is in peril.” But what makes us so susceptible? Mc Quade asserts that we have never been one America. “American identity in the Deep South is different from American identify in New York or on the West Coast.” Some regions are more segregated than other and it is easier to distrust those one has never met, as they are harder to understand, easier to judge. Ironically, another complication in our struggle for national unity is our Constitutional protection of free speech, an intriguing dilemma that Mc Quade explores in detail. The difficulty of writing laws that serve Truth while protecting the First Amendment creates verbal conundrums, legal battles, and roadblocks. Consequently, we must often struggle to discern deception rather than choosing among arguments grounded in truth.
Not content to simply warn the reader of the power of misinformation and the obstacles that thwart it, she describes different techniques for spreading misinformation, their history and their presence in America today. One example is a technique she calls “Aiming for the Heart.” Authoritarians manipulate by playing on our emotions. Fear, an emotion rampant in a rapidly evolving world, is at the top of the list. We fear change and change is taking place all around us. Will we be replaced by “aliens”? Will the America of our grandparents no longer be an America they would recognize? Are there deep state conspiracies that will destroy the Constitutional government our forefathers created? Fear leads us to demonize and scapegoat others, thus creating a tribal mentality that undermines the vision of a United States of America.
Among other historic strategies she describes in detail are both the stoking of violence until the populace becomes inured, and conquering the press by calling its members “scum” and the news they report “fake.” Sound familiar? A despot’s rise to power is also aided by the bullying of bureaucrats and the demeaning of our courts. Mc Quade then goes on to add the dangers of emerging technology, with its misinformation, bots, trolls, and microtargeting. As I read, my vocabulary grew, along with my alarm.
She concludes by describing those possibilities that could lead to creative dialogue, thus healing our national disorder. First Mc Quade writes, in the spirit of Thomas Jefferson as quoted above, “The good news is that most problems created by humans can be solved by humans.” She goes on to remind the reader that “addressing problems requires consensus, which is difficult to achieve without agreeing to a shared set of facts.” And how do we do that? Below are some of her solutions. Each is followed by both the difficulties and the possibilities of realization. Here are four.
This possibility is followed by an exploration of prohibiting anonymous users and bots. Another is the disclosure of funding sources. Again, stressing our need for community, she describes news sources in small and midsize towns and cities as watchdogs that can disclose corruption and wasteful government spending. She suggests, therefore, that they be supported financially. Another means of creating community is to promote civic engagement as a way to limit the time we spend online and to create possibilities for citizens to engage personally. There are others, all well explored, but the one that seems especially imperative is the prevention of political violence by monitoring hate speech online.
In conclusion, Mc Quade admits that each solution to our national crisis “requires grace.” Hannah Arendt in The Human Condition stresses that “only the experience of sharing a common human world with others who look at it from different perspectives can enable us to see reality in the round and to develop a shared common sense. Without it, we are each driven back on our own subjective experience, in which only our feelings, wants, and desires have reality.”
David Brooks would, I believe, agree. I suggest his latest work: How To Know A Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen.
Oath and Honor: A Memoir and a Warning, by Liz Cheney
Review by Nancy Rosenberger
In The American Soul: Rediscovering The Wisdom Of The Founders , Jacob Needleman, Professor of Philosophy at San Francisco State University, writes that at the heart of the idea of democracy in its uniquely American form lies “the goal of bringing people together under the guidance of conscience”(25). In the title of her memoir, Liz Cheney, the Republican representative of Wyoming from 2017 to 2023, reflects this vision. An oath often invokes a divine witness, and is a solemn promise regarding one’s future action or behavior. Honor is defined as honesty, fairness or integrity in one’s beliefs and actions.
Cheney’s memoir, an historical account written from personal knowledge and special sources, takes the reader into the inner chambers of Congress as America’s democracy is threatened by those who believe that Oath and Honor may be sacrificed upon the altar to Power. Her experience of events, her use of quotations, the clarity of her prose, and her abundant use of facts help the reader remember and disentangle the chaos caused by Donald Trump and his allies.
She begins with November 4, 2020, and the news that President Trump has lost the election to Joe Biden. On November 5, 2020, Trump tweets “STOP THE FRAUD.” And the drumbeat begins. Jim Jordan, the Congressman from Ohio and a close Trump ally, declares that the only thing that matters is winning.
The book is divided into five sections: The Plot Against America; The Attack; A Plague of Cowardice; No Half Measures, and The Relentless March of Evidence. The latter ends with two chapters entitled “Never Again,” and “Unfit for Office.” The pace of the memoir mirrors the events that did indeed try America’s soul.
On November 19, the drumbeat quickened, becoming even more frenzied. A group of lawyers representing Trump held a press conference claiming massive voter fraud. Sidney Powell, one of the lawyers present, declared that Trump had “won by a landslide.” The drama was heightened when she promised that they could provide proof. Cheney states simply that they “did not do that.” She writes that none of the lawsuits in federal and state courts brought by Trump were backed by evidence.
Kris Krebs, the Director of Homeland Security whom Trump fired by tweet, called the event “the most dangerous one hour and forty-five minutes of television in American history.” The trying of Souls was accelerating rapidly.
On January 6 while Trump tweeted repeatedly about the “thousands of people pouring into D.C.,” crowds, he claimed, that would not stand for an election to be stolen, Cheney put out the following statement: “We have sworn an oath under God to defend the Constitution. We uphold that oath at all times, not only when it is politically convenient. Congress has no authority to overturn elections by objecting to electors. Doing so steals power from the states and violates the Constitution” (83).
We have watched again and again the attack on the Capitol Building. But the drama that unfolded within is less well known. Cheney describes in chilling detail the debate that swirled around the legitimacy of the election, the alarm sounded by the Capitol Police, the whisking away of Nancy Pelosi, and the moment when Dean Phillips, a Democratic member from Minnesota, turned to the Republicans and yelled, “This is because of you!” (90)
As chaos from rioters increased, Capitol Police slammed doors and secured them. Cheney writes, “We were being locked in.” At first, they were advised to hide under their bulletproof desks. Then they were told to flee through doors leading to more secure parts of the Capitol. The image of our elected representatives crouching beneath bulletproof desks and then fleeing to tunnels or hiding inside locked offices should horrify every American.
As those around her fled, the House Chaplin, Margaret Kibben, went to a microphone and began to pray that those gathered there be spared from fear and anxiety. And from the violence of their fellow Americans?
Despite prayers, flight, bulletproof desks, courageous law enforcement officers, tunnels and locked doors, Cheney writes “People died on January 6 because of Donald Trump’s lies” (97).
As the titles of each section of her book attests, Liz Cheney does far more than take the reader through the national shame of that day. She describes dispassionately and fully the bedlam, the political cowardice that followed, and the monumental task of the Select Committee whose charge was to investigate the details of January 6, 2020, and its causes. She narrates how every member of the Committee worked with dedication to bring to justice those who caused and supported this day of infamy.
Cheney’s conclusion is powerful in its simplicity. She writes that we must stop those who “have preyed on the patriotism of millions of Americans. They are working on the return to office of the man responsible for January 6. This is the cause of our time” (363).