Baltimore Online Book Club: A Review of Mumbo Jumbo, by Ishamael Reed

Mumbo Jumbo
by Ishmael Reed
Scribner Paperback Fiction
New York, NY
218 pages
First Published: 1972


The scene takes place near the Mount of Olives.  Having been rehearsing his serious, soon-to-be famous sermon for some time, Jesus decides to give his disciples a break.

Jesus: "Blessed are the saltshakers, for they shall sow hypertension!"

Peter: "WTF, Jesus, be serious!"

Jesus: "How's this, Pete: Blessed are the stockbrokers, for they shall demerit the Earth!"

Some of the disciples begin to giggle, until Peter's granite expression wipes the smiles off their faces.

Peter: "You're the Son of God, not the son of Henny Youngman!  I repeat: Be Serious!"

Jesus: "Lighten up, Rocky!  Can't you take a yoke?"

I was not trying to be blasphemous, honest.  I am, in fact, quite an admirer of Jesus of Nazareth; some of his quotes, such as "Judge not, lest ye be judged," are in my opinion, well, immortal.  Perhaps I can de-meaculpa myself by blaming the above scene on a quote from Ishmael Reed's classic novel, Mumbo Jumbo, (along with a bit of indigestion after a heavy meal).  Nowhere is there an account or portrait of Christ laughing, (page 97.)  I read that part of the novel late at night; after putting out the lights shortly thereafter, the little shtick virtually wrote itself as I was falling asleep.

Reed's brilliant satirical novel is an indictment of the smug, superior attitude Westerners have regarding Western Civilization, considering it to be the only one that counts, other civilizations being mere doggies following a brass band. Reed sees things very differently. For him, Westerners, that is, whites, are descendants of the pharaoh, Anektaton, or, as Reed calls them, Atonists. Anektaton believed there was only one God, the Sun God; thus monotheism was born.  This belief system made adherents rigid, intolerant, power-hungry and unable to enjoy themselves. In contrast, the mythical Osiris is the Urvater of the pagans, notably the blacks; his brother, Set, is the ancestor of Westerners, and, in Reed's words, Set can't dance.  Just as Ismael, Reed's namesake, and Jacob were, according to Jewish mythology, cousins whose lineages devolved into two enemy camps, the Osirites and Setites became, as it were, Fun and Glum, respectively.

It reminds one a little of Leonard Jeffries Jr. who, as head of Black Studies at CCNY in the 1990s, asserted that Africans were Sun People, while whites were Ice People.  (He also asserted that Jews financed the slave trade, a heinous assertion, which, among others, such as denouncements of Jews in the media, got him fired.)

The resemblance, however, is deceptive.  Reed's novel is a brilliant tour de force, a well-written, entertaining, and important novel.  And Reed has a point.  I recall reading about a white volunteer who did his best to help the people of Lesotho, a poor region of South Africa.  The Lesothoans were suspicious at first; they suspected that he was another of those self-righteous missionaries whose purpose was to prove that the Lesothoan way of life was pagan, that is, bad.  But this volunteer wasn't like that.  After he proved that he had the Africans' interests at heart, and did much to improve their lives, they decided that he should become an honorary member of the tribe.  He was invited to sing and dance with them in a ritual.  (In their language, there apparently is only one word for "sing and dance;" one couldn't be separated from the other.  The volunteer was petrified.  "I can't dance!" he confessed.  The Africans were astounded.  How can one be alive and not sing and dance?  Case in point.

The novel, which takes place in the 1920s, begins with the   "Jes' Grew," (that is, "Just Grew") "epidemic," the spread of Black culture and music.  The whites in power treat it like a plague, and do their best to stomp it out.  (The popularity of rap among whites and blacks today is a good indication of the utter failure of their efforts.)

After the infectious tunes of Scot Joplin caught on among whites as well, there was no turning back. Attempts to denigrate the great genres of jazz and blues and to limit their influence--well, we know how that turned out.

Examples of Reed's robust sense of humor occur throughout the book.  For instance: "The Eternal European," Hinckle Von Vampton, publishes a newspaper, "The Benign Monster," the sole purpose of which is to denigrate Black culture and thus to stem the Jes' Grew epidemic.  He hires a black man to help him with his dirty work.  That man. Woodrow Wilson Jefferson, is willing to do anything so that he doesn't have to go back South:  "I will use any vehicle at all so that I won't have to return to that farm and spend the rest of my life milking cows and distributing feed," (page 80).

Von Vampton thereupon assigns him to review (and to denigrate) a literary journal, Fire, in which leading writers of the Harlem Renaissance appear.  An excerpt form Jefferson's review: "...their work didn't make you feel that you wanted to get out and pineapple a necktie store," (page 96).  Funny.

Von Vampton wants to find a "Talking Android," a black man who will do even a better job than Jefferson in contravening the rising tide of "Jes' Grew."  He can't find a suitable candidate, so he chooses his white co-conspirator, Hubert "Safecracker" Gould.  During a literary gathering sponsored by Von Vampton, Gould, wearing white gloves, blackface, black tuxedo, walks to the back of the stand and begins to read his epic Harlem Tom Toms:

O Harlem, great Negro sea of unrest
Allow me to dip my feet into thy Black
Waters where chippies swim like sad-eyed fish
Engulf me, Harlem. Submerge me in thy watery
Cabaret until one hand surfaces only
             Yass!  Yass!...  
                                     (page 158).

Funnier.

Exposed by Black Herman, one of the defenders of UnWestern Civilization, Gould and Von Vampton demand that he must "explain the charges you have against us before we will go anywhere," (page 180). Black Herman thereupon gives a long and brilliant alternative account of the origin of Western Civilization, Set, Osiris's stiff brother, being the founder, while cool Osiris, the original "Jes' Grew" dude, is murdered--his irrepressible spirit, however, remains alive, albeit suppressed, until resurrected by the Harlem Renaissance.  The section of the book establishes Reed as a master story teller.

This is a satire, and is, therefore, an exaggeration.  It is the confrontation between, and combination of, Black and European culture, not enmity between them,  that has given rise to the extraordinary flowering of American culture, which continues to this day.  (There has been a good deal of racism on the part of whites, of course.  One of the main factors in the development of jazz is the fact that talented black musicians, due to prejudice from the majority,  could not have  a career in classical music at the time). 

No one in his right mind would assert today that the influence of black culture on American life has been negative--far, far from it. It is, I think, true, however,  that people who proclaim the utter superiority of a lily-white Western Civilization are much more familiar with TV sitcoms than they are with Milton or Shakespeare...or, for that matter, with writers such as Ishmael Reed.

Harold Bloom considers this novel to be one of the five hundred best in the Western canon.  After reading this wonderful book, I agree.  Thank God the Western Canon has learned how to scat!-- Only a snob would still have a problem with that. 

                                                      *

This is the ninth edition of the Baltimore Online Book Club. You are welcome to read past book reviews of the Baltimore Online Book Club by googling the title of the novel along with my full name, Thomas Dorsett.

1. The New Life by Orhan Pamuk
2..Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
3. Exit Ghost by Philip Roth
4. A Sport and a Pastime by James Salter
5. Life and Death are Wearing Me Out by Mo Yan
6. Tender is the Night, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
7. Pierre or the Ambiguities by Herman Melville
8. Time's Arrow by Martin Amis


Our next meeting will take place on November 1, 2017.  On that date, the seven members of our group will discuss "The Book of Disquiet," by Fernando Pessoa; I will post my review shorty thereafter. You are invited to read the book and to post your comments onto the comment section of the review.   I wish you pleasurable reading!

Music is Music: Farther Along

Several years ago, my wife, Nirmala, listened to a radio program about the musician Mississippi John Hurt.  The music impressed her; she informed me about it and we ordered the CD set “The Best of Mississippi John Hurt” immediately.  After listening to it, we were not, to put it mildly, disappointed. What wonderful guitar playing!  When I heard his rendition of “Father Along,” tears of joy rolled own my cheeks.  I played it since then many times, often accompanying him on the piano.  It’s a winsome melody.  I had never heard it before, and wondered if there were other arrangements.  There are many.  We will discuss three of them.

The religious song. “Farther Along,” dates back to 1911. The lyrics were written by a preacher who was travelling by train from Texas to the Indian territories.   When he showed them to a fellow traveler, the latter was very impressed.  This man, J.R. Baxter, bought the rights to the lyrics (for two dollars)  on the spot and had it set to music. It has since become a gospel standard. It has been covered by many musicians; I have listened to many of them, and have selected for discussion the three which impressed me the most.

1    

    1.  First Version by Ronnie Milsap

If you like this kind of thing, you should like this a lot, since Mr. Milsap gives a straightforward heart-felt rendition of the hymn.  He has a comely voice and sings with a pleasant Southern twang.  It is a version that most Christians, especially Southern evangelicals, would find appealing.  It appeals to me as well, but I certainly wouldn’t like to hear it repeatedly.  This recording is well within the parameters of conventional taste, but it is less commercial than many of the other “churchy” recordings I listened to, e.g. Brad Paisley’s.  I am unable to hear it the way I presume a white (sentimental?)  Southern Baptist would; it moves me somewhat and annoys me somewhat as well.  It is, however, the best traditional version of “Farther Along,” I could find.

The second version takes us farther along:

     2. Second Version by Willie Nelson

This Christian hymn smokes.  Willie Nelson’s version is Ronnie Milsap’s—on marijuana.  This pot-friendly rendition provides the listener with delightful inner tokes; the cannabization of a classic, as it were—just what the gospel needs. The medium is the message here. How three simple chords—along with a brief appearance of a dominant seventh; how the 1, 4. and 5 chords in the right combination can move us to tears is a mystery, the mystery of music.  Mr. Nelson is well acquainted with this mystery—and it shows.

Mr. Nelson, like John Hurt, isn’t concerned very much with the words; it’s the consolation in Willie’s and the joy in John Hurt’s version which is important.  Willie Nelson has an expressive voice; the emotion of this song comes across beautifully.  Unlike many white gospel singers, he is not a slave of the meter: for instance, he syncopates “we’ll understand it”; notice the several times he comes in after the beat, e.g., when he sings “living around us” at the beginning, and “live in the sunshine” later on in the song.  After this comes the loveliest part of the recording: Willie Nelson’s riffs on the guitar.  The second and third variations are especially effective.  This simple song can get boring if repeated without variation; Mr. Nelson sees to it that the listener’s ears remain listening attentively. A first-rate, virtuoso  recording; thank you, Willie Nelson!

Before we proceed to Mississippi John Hurt's recording, I would like to say a few words about the lyrics.  Wikipedia informs me that the preacher, Rev. A.R. Fletcher, wrote the text, as previously mentioned,  on a train on his way to Indian Territories—presumably to convert Native Americans, alas!  He was upset and saddened by the fact that he wouldn’t be able to be present when his wife gave birth.  Perhaps this, at least partially, explain the bitterness and mean-spiritedness of some of the words. 

There are six stanzas, along with the refrain repeated after each stanza,, in the original.  Nobody sings all of them; it would be difficult not to be boring if a singer chose to sing all six. Every singer, however uses the refrain:

Farther along we’ll know all about it

Farther along, we’ll understand why

Cheer up, my bother, live in the sunshine

We’ll understand it all by and by.

The two bitter, or at least less joyful stanzas, are as follows:

Tempted and tried, we’re oft made to wonder

Why it should be all the day long

While there are others living about us

Never molested though in the wrong…

When death has come and taken our loved ones

It leaves our lives so lonely and drear

And then we do wonder why others prosper

Living so wicked year after year—

These self-righteous stanzas smack of spiritual pride.  It doesn’t seem that the lyricist has tried to walk a mile in a “wicked” person'd moccasins.  The case that this song pits the righteous and poor against the wicked and rich falls apart when one realizes that there is a recording of “Farther Along” by the notorious Jimmy Swaggart.  Do some of the devout who listen or sing this song think of gays and women who have had an abortion as “living so wicked year after year”?  I will leave it up to you, dear reader, to answer as you see fit.

Milsap begins the song with the “Tempted and tried” first stanza which just about all the other singers of this hymn do.  Other than the refrain, he chooses this verse:

“Faithful till death,” saith our loving Master;

Short is our time to labor and wait,

Then will our toiling seem to be nothing,

When we shall pass the beautiful gate

Not a bad choice.  Willie Nelson begins with the “Tempted and tried” verse, but he doesn’t seem to believe it.  Other than the refrain, he chooses one more verse:

When we see Jesus coming in glory

When he comes down from his home in the sky

Then we shall meet him in that bright mansion

We’ll understand it, all by and by.

Not a bad choice as well; no self-righteousness here. Now we can proceed to Mississippi John Hurt’s version:

3.  Third Version by Mississippi John Hurt

Heavenly!  This is the recording that brought tears of joy to my eyes the first time I heard it. Hurt’s style has been described as  “fast and slightly syncopated”.  The tempo here is by far the fastest of the three recordings, which, for me, adds to its upbeat quality.  The “slight syncopation” is present as well, but less so than in his other recordings.  This is a simple, albeit moving tune; this is why Hurt plays for the most part chords and melody.  His finger-picking is stellar and unique; it has influenced many musicians.

The music is always the most important factor, yet the words he chose to sing give a good indication of Hurt’s personality as well. His version is the only one I know that dispenses with the “Tempted and tried” first stanza altogether—he begins with the joyful chorus.  He then chooses two other stanzas, the “Faithful till death” stanza that Milsap chose, and the “When we see Jesus” stanza chosen by Willie Nelson. Hurt apparently wanted nothing to do with words that add even a hint of "sour grapes". 

Some background here: Hurt, born in 1892, made a few recordings in the 1920s, which were critically acclaimed, but were commercial failures.  When the Depression came, he had no more opportunities to reach a wide audience, and returned to Avalon, his home town in rural Mississippi, where he worked as a sharecropper.  He completely disappeared from the public's eye and ear.  In the early 1960s, a musicologist named Tom Hoskins, impressed by Hurt’s recordings, wondered whether Hurt was still alive.  One of Hurt’s original songs is dedicated to his hometown, Avalon.  Mr. Hoskins pored over the map of Mississippi and eventually discovered where the little hamlet was located.  Along with some friends, he traveled to Mississippi and was delighted to discover that John Hurt, now in this 70s, was still alive.  Having been informed where his simple dwelling was located, Hoskins and his friends set off to find him.  As Hurt noticed a bunch of white men approaching, he thought it was a lynch mob! Needless to say, Hoskins was delighted that Hurt’s ability had remained intact.

Hurt obviously had things to be bitter about, but that was not in his nature.  Kindness and joy are much in evidence in this recording, aspects no doubt of Hurt’s personality as well.  He had little time left.  Brought into the limelight in 1963, Hurt died of a heart attack in 1966.   The recording under discussion was therefore that of a man in his seventies, whose personality was still as fresh and irrepressible as ever.

Even when he botches the lyrics, it only adds to the charm.  (Listen to how he flubs the first line of the "Faithful till death", stanza, for instance.  (His attention is on his playing, but his singing is infectious as well).

This simple, beautiful song runs the danger of becoming an “ear worm” when heard too frequently, so I’m going to take a break and listen to other artists.  But I will return to “Farther Along” both at the piano and at my Bose CD player.  Which recording of this song will I return to most often? 

Thank you, Mississippi John Hurt.  You have cheered me up at times when I badly needed it; at times when I didn’t, you intensified my joy. Thank you, again and again.


Previous editions of this series, all available on my blog:

1.  Music is Music: Feeling Good
2.  Music of Transformation: An Analysis of a Spiritual
3.  Schubert in Five Songs Part l
4.  Schubert in Five Songs, Part ll
5.  Music is Music: Gospel
6.  Music is Music: der Schmied
7.  Music is Music: Throw it Away
8.  Prometheus
9. Music is Music: Beautiful Hurts

Music is Music: Feeling Good

This is the ninth edition of my series, Music is Music.  In each episode,  I give a brief musical analysis of recordings, often of the same song, which I consider to be outstanding in one way or another.  This time I have chosen for discussion three recordings of “Feeling Good.”

Every Saturday morning, I take a spinning class with an excellent instructor who is also my friend, Sushil Sharma.  During our exercise sessions, Sushil plays a music CD to accompany our huffing and puffing.  Some are fast, some are faster, all programmed to reflect whether we are sprinting or “climbing a hill,” that is, pedaling against increased resistance. At the end of our session, it is time to cool down.  This we do to Michael Bublé’s version of “Feeling Good," which follows:

Well we know what he means.  The butterflies are having fun, and he wants some of the action as well.  (I wish I could have found a version without a video.  Mr. Bublé puts it on kind of thick in the video, at least from my perspective, that of an albeit rather youthful, yet a septuagenarian nevertheless. One more comment: cut the Elvis impersonation, Mr. Bublé, you can’t dance). I advise listeners to close their eyes. For the singing is much more subtler than the video.  NB: I found a vocal without an accompanying  video after all!

The sexual longing comes across well; no doubt many, or at least some, young women will see stars.  But this singer has a lot more than sexual appeal; he is first-rate.  When I heard the recording for the first time during a spinning session some time ago, I remember saying to myself, “This guy is the successor to Frank Sinatra." Like Sinatra's, Bublé's voice is pleasing to the ear; like Sinatra, his range is limited.  But the phrasing!  What a crooner, in the best sense of that word. His phrasing, like Sinatra's at his best, is well-nigh perfect.  He knows when, and for just how long, to come in after the beat in order to produce the maximum effect.  He uses what in classical music is called melisma, that is, several notes for one word that is denoted with only one note in the sheet music.  This device is used very often in African-American music.  (There must be a term other than melisma for it, of which I’m unaware.)  Much of his phrasing, like just about all popular American music, is deeply indebted to African-American music. (Note the African-American phrase, ‘don’t you know').  However, this is a very white version of this song.   It doesn’t go for the emotional jugular as many fine examples of African-American music does.  For that, we turn to a recording by Gregory Porter.

The second rendition of this song is performed a cappella by Gregory Porter:

I had only head the Bublé version previously.  This isn’t a song of a young buck on the prowl, after all; it’s a song about the attainment of freedom—as yet  incompletely realized—by a member of a much abused race.  I did some research on the song.  It first appeared in a 1964 musical, “The Smell of the Greasepaint—The Roar of the Crowd”.  It was described at the time as a “booming song of emancipation,” and it is just that.  The show, which has since been forgotten as far as I know, came to Broadway the following year.  It was first sung in England by the Guyanese-British singer, Cy Grant, and on Broadway by the classical baritone, Gilbert Price, who unfortunately died in an accident at the age of 49.  In the play, the singer of this song was referred to simply as “the Negro”—we have come a long way since 1964, and still have a long way to go. Gregory Porter sings here a Gospel version that would fit in perfectly if sung in a black church or during the Civil Rights Movement. Mr. Porter has a beautiful voice that is also heftier and that also possesses a wider range than the singer of the first arrangement. I was not surprised to learn that Mr. Porter is a renowned jazz singer as well; it shows. (I’m glad Mr. Bublé did the version he did, which is good in its own right; he would never have been able to pull off anything comparable to Mr. Porter’s version—Neither could, of course, Frank Sinatra.They are both masters of entertainment; Mr. Porter gives us entertainment that pierces the soul).  His phrasing and his ability to provide variation so that each repeated stanza is never boring, is amazing as well.  This is especially hard to do when one sings a cappella; kudos to Mr. Porter!

The third version we will discuss is by Nina Simone:

I heard this song for the first time during a recent step aerobics class.  (Where have I been?)  After the class was over, I asked the instructor who the performer was, and, as soon as I got home, I went straight to YouTube.

Notice the vampy chord progression and the sassy orchestration.  This was taken over by Bublé, along with the 'don’t you know'.  The original musical-theater accompaniment is less effective. Ms. Simone sings beautifully here; this is my favorite version.  In this rendition of a “booming song of emancipation,” I detect a good deal of sadness in her voice.  Her “feeling good” is more subtle, and, for me, more profound.  Ms. Simone appears to know that freedom is never secure, and, possibly because of her own personal difficulties, cannot pretend otherwise, even in this song. The technical  aspects of her performance impress.  Even more important, however, Ms. Simone, while not contravening it, transcends the historical aspect of the song and seems to be singing on behalf of the entire human race.  We will never break all the invisible bonds that keep us chained to greed, hate, and delusion; Ms. Simone's voice, straight from the heart, conveys this sentiment extraordinarily well.  A tempered joy is perhaps all we can expect. When listening to this recording, however, my joy is unalloyed. Such is the power of music.

Previous editions of this series, all available on my blog:

l.   Music of Transformation: An Analysis of a Spiritual*
2.  Schubert in Five Songs Part l
3.  Schubert in Five Songs, Part ll
4.  Music is Music: Gospel
5.  Music is Music: der Schmied
6.  Music is Music: Throw it Away
7.  Prometheus
8. Music is Music: Beautiful Hurts

* includes a recording of Nina Simone

The Chemistry of Charlottesville

During the years 1966-1967, I studied in Freiburg, Germany, in a program sponsored by the University of Wisconsin. One evening, I was walking through a little village in the Black Forest.  Everyone was heading toward the main street, so I followed them.  There I witnessed a procession that made me feel uneasy.  A torch parade, a Fackelzug, marched through the village.  The nature of the event was innocent—I don’t remember the occasion; perhaps it took place in honor of a saint.  As an American, my sole knowledge of Fackelzüge came from old newsreels depicting Nazi marches during the Third Reich. 

I still remember the feeling that came over me so long ago: a catch in the throat, a brief touch of nausea; for a moment it was as if I had been transported to 1930s Nuremberg, witnessing one of those infamous Nazi rallies.  I couldn’t watch it; I left rapidly.   

Torch parades have existed since medieval times in the German-speaking world, often with a connection to university life.  Hitler, however, gave them evil connotations, as he did to so many aspects of life in Germany.  The torch parade I witnessed occurred only about twenty years after the war—Some of the older people marching could well have marched in Nazi parades as well, I thought with a shudder.  As an American and philo-Semite, I imagine I felt much like an African American  does, when passing a statue of Robert E. Lee in a town square.

Two years later, I was living in Yorkville, a New York City neighborhood which at the time still had a very distinct German flavor. For instance, I remember having lunch many times at the Berlin Bar on the corner of 85^th Street and 3^rd Avenue; I also remember buying cookies with a friend, who was visiting me from Germany, at the Kleine Konditorei, a block away.  When the young lady at the counter asked what we wanted, my friend, pointing to some cookies on display, asked me, Wie heissen sie?--What are they called—Kooookies?? The young lady at the counter thereupon switched to German.  There was a lot of German spoken in Yorkville in those days.)

My apartment was between 2^nd and 3^rd aveneues on 85^th street.  One day, when I was about to turn the corner, onto 2^nd avenue, I noticed a few men waving flags that had fascist insignia on them. They were right-wing radicals, trying to start a new movement.  The inhabitants, however,  had had enough with the Nazis.  Nobody followed them—I remember it well—nobody followed them; we, in fact, booed them along.  There were only about three of them, which as far as neo-Nazis are concerned, were three more than enough. They quickly gave up, got in their truck and drove off.

Fifty years later, I was confronted by this image, all over the news, of a neo-Nazi march and demonstration in Charlottesville, Virginia:

In case you are unfamiliar with the details, I will provide a brief summary.  The city of Charlottesville decided to remove, for obvious reasons, a statue of Robert E. Lee from a city park.  The organizer of “Unite the Right”—I refuse to mention his name—got a permit for a protest march.  On the evening of August 10, 2017, approximately 500 hundred neo-Nazis had crawled out of the nation’s woodwork and descended on Charlottesville.  As they approached the park the next day, waving flags emblazoned with swastikas, they were met by counter-protesters.  Violence broke out.  The nadir of the rally was the death of a young counter-protester, Heather Heyer, when a neo-Nazi terrorist deliberately rammed his car into the antifascist  crowd, killing her and wounding nineteen others.

The is a the face of an American terrorist, James Alex Fields, Jr.:

My intention is not to write about the riot; I wasn’t there and many fine journalists have given vivid accounts.  My intention is to help explain why this riot occurred.  What I see as a very significant cause of the rise of the right-wing has been, in my opinion, virtually ignored by everyone.  I felt obliged to bring this to the nation's attention.

The Chemistry of Charlottesville

A well-known chemical reaction is as follows:

AgNO3 + KCL → AgCl + KNO3

This equation indicates that when liquid silver nitrate is added to a potassium chloride solution, silver choride will precipitate out of the solution as a sold white mass.  This is a phenomenon of nature that can be replicated anywhere. Societal equations are less exact, but they are phenomena of human nature nevertheless and can be replicated (inexactly) anywhere as well.  In the societal version of the above equation, KCL is replaced by current economic  conditions, while AgNo3 is replaced by income inequality. Add income inequality to the status quo and a precipitate will result, each one representing a number of citizens who feel disenfranchised.  In the chemical reaction, a white mass results, which responds to the result of the human equation as applied to the United States quite nicely, indicating an increasing number of angry whites.  Just as when a lot of silver nitrate is added to the solution, lots of silver nitrate will arise, the amount of radicalized citizens is directly proportional to the increase of income inequality.  There will always be income inequality, a historically normal amount will produce unnoticeable results.  But when it reaches a critical amount,  radicals will appear in all cities and towns.  (I’m not only talking about neo-Nazis and white supremacists here; the bulk of the precipitate is composed of voters who let their anger trump their ability to make a rational choice.)

      This graph shows the exponential increase of inequality in the U.S.since 1979

Germany is well aware of the havoc economic instability can cause.  They know that the severe depression and inflation of the 1920s and 1930s helped elect a madman.  The German government was recently so afraid of inflation that they refused aid to Greece until the budget of that country became more balanced.  We don’t seem to see the connection between economic misery and the rise of the alt-right.  In most of the recent newspaper articles about the Charlottesvile debacle I’ve read, the cause is simply a matter of whites refusing to accept diversity and wanting unlimited white privilege.  They are demonized and thus dismissed.  Yes, white supremacists are indeed guilty of demonic behavior, but failure to pay attention to the societal equation we have discussed is not wise.

The white supremacists chanted, "You will not replace us, Jews will not replace us," as they marched through Charlottesville, indicating their economic anxiety as well as their vile hate.

That increasing income inequality tends to cause increasing radicalization is well known. In an article by Seyward Darby in the September 2017 issue of Harper's, this phenomenon is addressed:

...Societal science research sheds some light on the (alt-right) movement's appeal to individuals who profess to be seeking truth of purpose.  The work of the political scientists Joseph E. Uscinski and Joseph M. Parent suggests that people who experience anxiety and loss of control over their personal circumstances are more likely to adopt fringe beliefs.  This March, psychologists at Princeton published a study showing that ostracism also enhances the belief in conspiracy theories.
                                     --page 27

When I practiced pediatrics, I was confronted over the years by many cases of child abuse.  Child abuse of young children is usually inflicted by mothers, since they usually have the burden of child care at this age.  Once I ordered a bone scan of a child suspected of abuse.  It revealed multiple fractures, in various stages of healing, which just about clinches the diagnosis.  It is normal to be angry with the mother who inflicted these injuries--but anger doesn’t help to resolve the problem.  Although one might be reluctant to do so, the best results are obtained when the well-being of the mother is of primary concern, once the safety and recovery of the child has been assured.  Social workers might see to it that the abuser gets more social support; they will think of such things as helping her get a job, helping her get day-care for the child, helping her to further her education, etc.  Once the abuser’s stress is decreased and her sense of self-worth is increased, she is likely to become a much better parent.  White supremacists are no different. Those who have meaningful work at a living wage tend to be happier and happier people tend to be more tolerant. We, therefore, don’t need further reductions in taxes for the very wealthy; we need such things as more funds for education, a New-Deal type program to repair our failing infrastructure, etc, etc.

It’s time to introduce another white terrorist:

Paul Ryan, the current Speaker of the House, is representative of just about all Republicans; he and they are doing their best to increase the income inequality in this county.  Decreasing taxation on the very rich and shrinking the safety net at a time like this is nothing short of violence against those at the lower end of the income scale. 

A good example is the recent  Republican attempt to rescind the Affordable Care Act, a bill which narrowly missed being passed.  Ryan, of course, voted in favor of repealing Obamacare.  The New England Journal of Medicine estimated that for every 455 people who lose health care, one death per year would result.  If passed, the Republican bill would, by conservative estimates, cause twenty million people to lose their health insurance.  The result would be the deaths of over 43,000 people a year!

James Alex Fields, Jr. killed one person; Ryan, if he had his way, would be responsible for the deaths of thousands!  Which is more dangerous, lone wolves or a pack of wolves in business suits?

Sure, Ryan’s terrorism is of a different kind; he is articulate, dresses well, and is quite affable.  He appears to be a model citizen.  But he isn’t. 

The proper response to his gentleman’s terrorism should, of course, be quite different from the response to the terrorism of the misfit who murdered Heather Hyer.  The latter deserves to be thrown in jail, while Ryan and his ilk deserve to be thrown—that is voted—out of office. If we want fewer James Alex Fields in our midst, that’s what we must do.

Trump, The Emperor of Ice-Cream

Let be be finale of seem:

The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
                                   --Wallace Stevens

We have elected the Emperor of Ice-Cream to unnerve as our president, and still act surprised when the ice-cream drips all over us and makes the body politic a mess.

Making fun of Trump—I can’t blame the comedians, our getting ever closer to a downfall is their windfall. (I listen and laugh with them; too bad, though, that the jokes are on us.) I suppose this applies to pundits as well; they-- the progressive ones at least--also seem to be making a living by parsing the latest proof that the emperor has no clothes. But I have less patience with them.  They seem surprised, even shocked, by every importunate tweet, by every wackadoo move our dear leader makes. 

An example: after giving a widely criticized speech to the Boy Scouts, Trump said, “I got a call from the head of the Boy Scouts saying it was the greatest speech that was ever made to them and they were thankful”. Was there such a call? Nope. Similarly, Trump said that the president of Mexico called him to praise the former’s—how I wish he were “a former”-- immigration policies.  If you believe that call ever took place, I would like to sell you some solar panels specially designed for that “big, beautiful” wall that will never be built.

The pundits never cease to be amazed by Trump goose-stepping over the faces of members of an ever-increasingly oppressed minority composed of fact-bearing, truth-telling patriots.  Don’t the pundits have his number yet?   In case you, dear reader, still support our dear leader, let me explain the nature of the cipher that he is.

President Trump is mentally ill.  He really is a pathological narcissist.  It’s not a case  of name-calling, it’s an objective assessment of a textbook case.  If you are interested in how this disorder is defined—and you should be—here is a definition from the Mayo Clinic: Narcissistic personality disorder is a mental disorder in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for admiration and a lack of empathy for others.  But behind this mask of ultraconfidence lies a fragile self-esteem that’s vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

There is simply no better way to understand Trump’s behavior. There are no doubt many people suffering from this condition, many of whom are doomed to long-term therapy--it is apparently a very difficult dis-ease to treat. That someone so afflicted has become the president of the United States and, while he is in power, will continue to afflict us all, is, however,  truly unprecedented.

A narcissist is a frog who needs to be convinced that he is a Prince in order to forget that he lives in a swamp. Deep down he’s convinced that he’s nothing more than a measly little reptile with a big mouth; to contain the anxiety that this slimy self-image causes, he needs, to borrow Emily Dickinson’s immortal phrase, an admiring bog.    If birds tweet his praises, he’ll tweet their praises as well. If he believes that a fly is buzzing with praise for somebody else, he’ll lash out his tongue and devour it.

This is the extent of a narcissist’s morality: mirror, mirror of the pond, tell me I’m great or I’ll despond.

The vast majority of commentators don’t seem to get this, although, as Trump’s pathology continues to be more and more obvious, some of them are beginning to comprehend that our president is not only incompetent, but suffers from a serious mental disorder as well.

One wouldn’t expect a man with a physical condition that causes a high fever to act cool; how can one expect a man with a mental condition that causes a raging inner fever not to act like a fool?

If one has some knowledge of Trump’s illness, one realizes that his actions, however ridiculous and seemingly impulsive when judged by objective standards, arise from his pathology as inevitably as a cough arises when one contracts the flu.

There are so many examples! Trump has mocked a disabled reporter; Trump has belittled very talented people such as Meryl Streep and Jon Stewart.  He has even criticized the pope!  Do you think he would ever have denigrated any of these people if they had praised him?  Meryl Street is one of the most overrated actresses in Hollywood? What about the mediocre Scott Baio, who was just about the only “star” who was willing to speak on Trump’s behalf during the Republican Convention?  Remember, pathological narcissists lack empathy.  He doesn’t see persons as persons. He’s rankled by criticism and puffed up by praise; for him, unless others cheer him on, they aren’t worth a nit.

The Emperor of Ice-Cream has no friends, not even allies. Having little or no empathy is incompatible with respect for others as well.  He denounced Jeff Sessions, one of his earliest supporters, for recusing himself from the investigation of Russian collusion. Sessions had no choice; nevertheless, Trump severely criticized him for doing so, since he wanted Sessions to call the investigation off.  What good is an attorney general who is no longer useful to him? Loyalty to the Emperor is the sole criterion for the mini-Nero's imperial support. Recently, Trump even denounced Mitch McConnell, an essential ally, for not being able to deliver for the president's signature a (truly terrible) health care bill--even though McConnell worked tirelessly to do just that, while The Emperor of Ice-Cream simply lay in his dish with a pen.

When he was campaigning, Trump promised to replace Obamacare with affordable medical services for every citizen of the country.  Logically, he would have striven to improve Obamacare, which wouldn’t be that hard to do.  But no.  According to the Emperor, everything about Obamacare is evil.  To understand his hatred for Obamacare and Obama, it is helpful to think of President Obama as Britannicus and Trump as Nero.  Nero had Britannicus, his step-brother, murdered because he was a rival.  No, no, I’m not implying that Trump wants to kill Obama, only his legacy, no matter how damaging rescinding many of the good things Obama did for the country would be. Emperors can’t abide rivals; the Emperor of Ice-cream is no different.

(Why does Trump like dictators and dislike leaders of democratic countries?  That's easy: Duartes and Putins don't criticize him; Merkels and Mays do).

Recently, Trump has been criticized—rightly—for not condemning the recent horrible demonstration of white supremacists and neo-Nazis in Charlottesville, during which one person died and many more were injured.  He remained silent not because (or not only because) he supports white supremacy, (it's bad for business), but due to the praise that these wretched people give him; they are definitely part of his base.  (Note: Just as one is responsible for one's actions while under the influence of alcohol, the fact that Trump suffers from a mental condition does not exculpate him. Trump's failure to denounce white supremacy is a moral outrage; that the president has a personality disorder is no excuse). I’m not claiming that Trump has no racist beliefs, either—far from it—What I am asserting is that he has no sense of morality.  If in some crazy parallel world, African Americans supported Trump, he might well be advocating such things as reparations and a vigorous program of affirmative action for members of Congress.

Mental illness is a devastating condition; if he weren’t the most powerful person in the world, the correct response to Trump would be empathy and compassion.  Since he is president, however, we must see to it that his powers are curtailed—the best solution for us all, of course, would be his removal office as quickly as possible. (I suspect, although I'm not sure, that he colluded with Russia; that he has been involved, at least indirectly, with money laundering, is almost certain.  There is a very good chance that Muller's investigation will reveal an impeachable offense. Let's hope so!)

One way or another, The Emperor of Ice-Cream is going to melt. We must see to it that the whole world doesn’t continue to heat up and melt down with him.

Self, Love, and Wisdom: Three Interconnected Spheres

My wife recently had a serious bike accident.  She has since recovered, but she easily could have died. Such an event knocks the nonsense out of you.  I have been postponing writing this essay; I feared I was not up to the task.  That may be, but now more than ever do I understand Hillel’s famous words; If not now, when?

Three Interconnected Spheres: Self, Love, and Wisdom

1. The Self           

If I am not for myself, who is for me? –Hillel

In my long career as a pediatrician, I have seen many examples of troubled children who grew up to be troubled adults.  Houses without a firm foundation are at the mercy of unstable earth below them; if they don’t stand on solid ground, existence for their inhabitants is precarious. For human beings, a firm foundation refers to support and love during the crucial years of development.  A strong sense of self is not self-caused.

In many instances, children whom I have treated came from broken homes with little social support.  I can recall many examples of insufficient parental involvement, e.g. single mothers who slept late and expected their children to go to elementary school by themselves.  What should have been homes, were merely houses; meals entailed giving a child money to eat at McDonald’s alone. 

I am not blaming anyone, I am merely pointing out a psychological law: a healthy sense of self is necessary in order to lead a good life; without its formation in childhood, however, serious life-long problems arise.  Despite having endured a difficult childhood, even for that individual all is not lost: love that comes later can help a seriously psychologically injured person recover.  But in almost all cases, that person will never remove all the scars, and some of the injuries will remain as open wounds; we can presume that one would have had a much happier life if one had not been injured in the first place. 

Humans can hate, humans can love, but nature is always indifferent. If one falls into a ditch and cannot get out, gravity certainly will never ease up to enable the person to float to safety. Yes, a human being can lower a ladder, descend, and help the fallen stranger to get back into the world.  But that person has troubles of his own; that person has fallen into his own ditch, as it were, and is busy trying to extricate himself from his shallow pit and has little energy left over to help his neighbor out of a deeper one. 

I remember attending a Unitarian service in New York City over forty years ago.  Shortly after the service began, a seriously troubled man entered the church; he was poorly dressed, unkempt and probably homeless.  As is the case with many homeless people, he also appeared to have mental problems.  He walked up and down the central aisle without saying a word, obviously seeking help. Although he appeared to be desperate, nobody, including myself,  reached out to him in any way.  After a while, realizing that he would find as much support from us as he would from stones, he left.  The minister continued the service without ever having acknowledged the poor man, as if he had been merely static which we good Christians had tuned out.

“Nobody want you when you’re down and out” is as true now as when Bessie Smith sang the song so beautifully in 1929.  Another old saying is, "God helps people who help themselves".  
Self-reliance is certainly a good thing,  but this bromide is often used as a shaming insult to ditch dwellers.  If one lacks the wherewithal to help oneself; if one is lost in the labyrinth of an ill mind; if one lacks a functioning self,  God, that is nature, will provide no ladder to extricate the fallen individual from his prison.  Passers-by will pass by, self-absorbed with their own problems and cognizant of the enormous and time-consuming effort it would take to rescue one who has sunk so low; to assuage their conscience, many will demonize the fallen and attribute their descent to a free-will choice of depravity.  

We human beings must  be reasonably “self-fit” before we can fit in well with other selves. An important aspect of being self-fit is the development of empathy, including empathy for those who are quite different from ourselves.  Empathy for others as well as for oneself is more readily developed when one becomes more aware of the miracle of consciousness, the highest good in the universe that we know.  The realization which naturally follows,0 that one image of God, as it were, is not better than another, certainly fosters empathy.  Society demands that we must judge another’s behavior when that behavior is harmful to others; judging the person, however, is never warranted, despite the fact that this is the norm.  We don’t even know ourselves well enough to judge ourselves, much less the workings of a different mind raised in a different environment. 

Just because a person is different from us doesn’t make that person inferior or superior.  As Walt Whitman wrote, “Nor do I criticize the turtle for not being something else.”

You did not make the weed.  You did not make the redwood.  Nor did you create yourself.  The proper response to all three is awe.  Only one who has developed both self-respect and respect for others can realize, despite greed, despite hate, despite delusion, this essential inner fact: we are all intrinsically good; we are all who knows how? amazingly alive. The reality of a balanced self-hood should make us humble; if we had a different brain chemistry and a different environment, we would be a different person.  We are who we are largely due to factors beyond our control; once we realize this, how can we ever be in a position to judge others?

In summary.  to do well for ourselves and for others requires a firm foundation, a healthy sense of self.

2. Love              

If I am only for myself, what am I?

                                                           --Hillel

In nature, inanimate entities such as stones are perfect; seen from above with a transcendent eye, self is perfect as well. Seen with a human eye, however, things are different: from a humane perspective, much of our behavior is far from perfect, and, when it inflicts harm on others, even evil. No doubt about it, a cosmic eye sees perfection everywhere; from an earthly perspective, however—and we all live on earth—a self without love is, to put it mildly, deficient.

“Love, then do what you want,” ("Ama, et quod vis fac"), is an adage Augustine famously wrote well over a thousand years ago.  It is generally true, but Leviticus 18:19 is more accurate: love your neighbor as yourself.  If love is not grounded in Leviticus 18:19, love can lead one astray, as we shall see.  The biblical injunction implies a combination of a beloved self and a loving self.  As we have seen in the previous section, without a functioning sense of self, love is well-nigh impossible.  Note that the commandment does not enjoin loving your neighbor more than yourself but as yourself. 

Jesus of Nazareth taught that one should always “turn the other cheek”.  If this commandment is followed literally, one would not survive for long.  “He who lives by the sword, shall die by the sword.”  Simone Weil agreed, but added that he who puts down the sword, dies on the Cross. The middle-road interpretation of Leviticus 18:19 includes justification for legitimate self-defense.

One is perhaps closer to the truth when one interprets Jesus’s statement as a deliberate exaggeration to reduce  greed, hate, and pride.  If it is interpreted literally, it is not in accord with the Golden Rule.  Taken figuratively, however, Jesus’s advice enjoins us to significantly reduce the desire for revenge and to significantly increase the practice of love and wisdom, much-needed advice indeed.

Of the three rungs discussed in this essay, self, love, and wisdom, love is by far the one most sung about and written about.  Love is indeed a powerful emotion, but is more than a matter of feeling; it is a course of action that often requires hard work.

All of us at least on occasion worship an idol that tells us, “You’re good and they’re bad”--“they” being members of another race, class, or nationality, all neighbors whom we refuse to accept as equals.

Love must begin locally—with oneself and one’s family—If it stops there and doesn’t radiate to include others, and doesn’t continue to radiate to include the whole world, it is a poor version of love indeed.  The wonderful Native American saying that teaches us not to judge another until we walk a mile in that person’s moccasins, illustrates an essential combination of love and wisdom, that, unfortunately, is not the way of the world.

A recent example of a lapse of judgment, a failure to internalize the aforementioned Native American adage, is a recent quote by the retired neurosurgeon, Dr. Benjamin Carson.  He said that if you took everything away from a successful man and plopped him down in a ghetto, he would be back on his feet in no time.  Similarly, if you took a "typical” person from a poor neighborhood and provide him with a lot of material support, he would never get to Gold Town—his attitude would confine him to Lead Town forever.

No, Dr. Carson; you rose from the ghetto, but you had a lot of advantages: intelligence, and a mother who insisted that you work hard. One isn’t even in a position to judge oneself, much less the effect that a specific environment and a specific internal environment has had in making a person who he currently is. 

Dr. Carson is also forgetting an essential fact: if the advantaged had practiced Lev. 18:19, there wouldn’t be any ghettos in the first place.

One of the greatest moral errors is the haughtiness that arises when one compares one’s own success to the perceived failure of others.  In Dr. Carson’s case, the faulty reasoning is as follows: ‘I succeeded and came from the same neighborhood.  The reason why many have failed is simply due to laziness, etc.'  Judge not lest ye be judged, taught a wise man whom Dr. Carson worships, but not always follows.

Love is a noble emotion, yet it can lead one astray when combined with ignorance and egotism.  One of my favorite examples of this is a poem by Baldur von Shirach, the notorious Nazi of Vienna who “loved” Hitler.  (Granted that some Nazis were far worse than he, but being a rotten piece of fruit among even more rotten pieces of fruit is hardly complimentary).  He wrote a love poem to Hitler, called “Er,” (“He”) extolling in a dreadfully bad poem the virtues of a dreadfully bad man.

Love of oneself is good; love of one’s family is good as well.  But if that love is not extended to include the stranger—as Hitler’s certainly wasn’t—that love can cause a great deal of harm. When Lev. 18:19 is put into practice, however, the individual is transformed, and if enough people follow suit, society will be redeemed.  Who has ever known the meaning of life without experiencing love for oneself, one’s family and love for one’s neighbor?

We now have the image of the second sphere, love, and the combination of the two, self and love.

                 

We should strive to live in the area that is a combination of each.  For self without love is selfish; for love without a well-developed self is like sowing the seeds of happiness among thistles. We still have an essential sphere to add, however.

3. Wisdom        

                                    --Tat Tvam Asi, Thou art that

                                               --The Upanishads

In general, Western religions emphasize love, while Eastern religions emphasize wisdom.  Meditation, perfected in Buddhism, is a way to transcend oneself by objectifying personal thoughts.  Meditation thus fosters wisdom, the realization that everyone and everything are connected.

This is well expressed by a poem by Michael Ende, which I translated form the German several years ago, “The Actual Apple”.

A writer and a  realist, well known

for his literality,

searched for something found at home

to delineate from A to Z:

an apple, for instance, an organic bit,

and all that goes along with it.

He described the core, the pulp, the skin,

the stem, the leaves, the branch, the tree,

the roots, the ground the roots grew in,

and Newton's Law of Gravity--

But that wasn't the actual apple at all;

he must include spring, summer, winter, and fall,

the sun and the moon and the stars--

He filled enough paper to paper a wall,

yet the ending seemed farther than quasars:

for actually he belonged there too,

this man of prose who hated verse,

and Adam and Eve and I and you

and God and the whole universe--

Finally he became fully aware

that apples are just indescribably there;

neither he nor another shall ever define

something so common, something so sublime--

He lifts his apple to the light;

smiling now, he takes a bite.

Love and wisdom can and should work together, as they do in the Great Commandment.When we love our neighbor as ourselves, our self-orientation can no longer be selfish—We learn that the center of creation is outside ourselves—in others—as well as inside ourselves.  Just as the center of the Big Bang is everywhere, the center of an inner universe is everywhere as well. We need to realize, if we are to lead full and just lives, that everyone is central to the universe.

Wisdom provides guidance for love that has gone astray.  Let us return to Baldur von Shirach’s love poem to Hitler  Hitler’s violent antisemitism is incompatible with wisdom, the knowledge that everything is connected, and that every human being deserves respect. In the eye of wisdom, the worth of a Jew is not in any way less than the worth of a Christian.  Love that only extends to one’s group--and in Hitler’s case, that was a perverse love as well—is like comparing the light of family hearth to the light of the sun.

I do not claim that love or wisdom has a supernatural origin; they originated via evolutionary adaptation to the environment.  Both of these virtues helped the individual and the group survive—and be happy.  I am not claiming that wisdom and love are merely biologically derived, either.  One cannot deny that both feel divine.

Now we can present the venn diagram that represents the best way to live:

It is in the area that is common to all three circles where self is not selfish; where love is never foolish and where wisdom is never dry.

When we go astray, the union of love, wisdom, and self acts like a magnet to draw us back to where we should be.  For instance, if we love our family but disparage those of another culture or ethnic origin, our diagram elicits the following questions: Is that love?  Is that wise?  Is that all we are? Similarly, if we enrich ourselves while depredating the environment, our diagram reveals that we have gone beyond where we should be at all times. 

Now we can return to Augustine's famous quote: love, then do what you want.  This, as we now can see, is valid only when that love resides in the common area of self, love, and wisdom.

I invite you to internalize this diagram and use it to monitor your behavior as well as the the behavior of others.  Should a wall be built between Mexico and the United States?  If we are speaking from the joint area of the three circles, the answer is obvious.  Should we accept capital punishment; should we break up families by deporting a mother or father who has lived here for a long time; should we continue to jail people for marijuana possession; are we doing enough to decrease racism and to foster peace, etc.  The questions are endless.  If we live where we should be, however, the answer to every one of them, however, is the same.

I would be pleased to receive comments from those who live where they should be, as well as from those who are moving, or at least desire to move, in the right direction.

If not now, when?