What
a difference a century makes, specifically a turn of the century.
Shortly after the 19th century ended, the United States had a president
who was the real deal, whose honesty, sincerity and courage would be
challenged only by those willing to take a chop in the jaws delivered
personally by the commander in chief himself. It was a time when
reference to the “Fantastic Four” meant school children’s appreciative
knowledge of any quartet that included Hawthorne, Poe, Dickenson,
Emerson, Whitman, Crane, Melville, Twain, Stowe, Howells, and many
others. Most especially, the equivalent to reality TV meant that you or
your parents had survived Shiloh, Gettysburg, Antietam, Richmond, or
any of the scores of sites leveled by the first, horrific manifestation
of modern war, Sherman’s March.
Heroes were unmistakable. Youngsters knew that
the republic survived its early days by the strength of character of
its founding fathers, particularly George Washington, the “closest
thing to a self-evident truth” in American politics, according to
author Joseph Ellis. You marveled at the intellectual honesty of
Alexander Hamilton, whose brilliant first Federalist Paper warned about
how arguments on both sides of the ratification debates could be
compromised by clever rationalizations of individual desires. In short,
we’re are all affected and often blinded by the perils of selfishness
and egotism, regardless of our best efforts to squelch these demons of
human nature.
Further, young and old stood in awe of Abraham
Lincoln’s eloquent wisdom, as expressed, for instance, in the
Gettysburg Address, his two inaugural speeches, and an earlier address
he gave at the Young Man’s Lyceum in Springfield, Illinois. “With the
catching end the pleasures of the chase,” Lincoln said, warning about
the dangers of ambitious men, who would be as willing to apply their
skills to destroy a republic as much as to build it up.
For skeptics, no one could rival Oliver Wendell
Holmes, Jr., whose cynicism about human nature made Mark Twain seem
like an optimist. Nihilists could only admire Holmes’s disdain for
those who “seem to believe in some form of the absolute,” making him
wonder if he “lived on a lower plane,” or if instead “they are churning
the void in the hope of making cheese.” Every age has its curmudgeons.
But they were wise curmudgeons, and we all admired them, learned from
them, and quoted them to make profound points. In short, they shaped
our minds, our thoughts, and imparted wisdom.
Today at the dawn of the 21st
century, “Where shall wisdom be found?” asks Harold Bloom in a book
with that title, which answers this question with an exploration of the
Western Canon from the Bible through Proust. His advice is desperately
needed, particularly for a generation that thinks Hamlet is a baby pig
and that a tragedy occurs when you miss a text message. Young minds now
seem formed by video games and reruns of “Friends;” too many of our
youth think like Seinfeld and talk like Scooby Doo. Spare time is
invested in “co-curricular activities” (whatever that means), while
role models are confined to the latest entry in American Idol or
whoever succeeds in the most preposterous task in a televised contest
about nothing. The question is whether antidotes exist for such
flimflammery.
Yes, they do, but with a curmudgeon alert: most
readers will not like what comes next. First, join the military, any
branch, for at least four years, and learn what real courage, honor,
and duty are all about. Second, since ignorance breeds gullibility,
read every book cited by Bloom. Then read Walter McDougall and every
book he cites in his three-volume history of America (third volume
forthcoming). Third, start a movement to raise the voting age to 25,
soldiers excepted. Fourth, dismiss 90 percent of what you hear on the
news as the shameless propaganda that it is. Fifth, reject out of hand
the superstitions of the age. For example, if someone asks you what
you’re doing for the environment, say: “Nothing. The environment exists
for me, not me for it. That is my only interest in preserving it.” Or,
if someone wants to “celebrate our diversity,” the multiculturalism
cult, then dismiss that person as a moral illiterate, because anyone
with any sense knows that cultures differ tremendously in their
accomplishments and respect for what Americans value most—freedom,
human life, and individual rights.
Finally, in this election year, evaluate the
candidates warily, which means sifting their words carefully; too much
of what they say is bunk aimed at those who know nothing. Rather, read
what others have to say about the candidates, observers with no axe to
grind, with no personal interest in the outcome.
When all that is done, sit back and relax,
because you’ve earned a break. For my part, I intend to delve into
Evelyn Waugh and Bugs Bunny and learn from two masters of the art of
bamboozlement