My Section in the Chorus

My Year (or so) In Review

by Micah E. Weiss

Going all the way back to October of 2023, I thought I would recap some of the events of the world, and also some of my essays, with new thoughts and addendums where necessary. When Jared and I started this project, it was in my mind that essay writing is superior to journalism even up to and including the Op-Ed writer, inasmuch as the essayist must sit with the événements actuels for longer than five minutes before formulating what, if anything, he or she has to say.

My piece The Blind and Toothless World that I published on October 20th, 2023, concerning the conflict in Gaza was as close to an immediate response to events that I am comfortable with, and as such, I took a broader view. With the passage of time, my thoughts are relatively unchanged, but the piece itself is one of my finest. I hope it’s not too much of an act of pride to say so. I wish the tragedy of what’s happening in the Holy Land wasn’t what brought out the best in my thinking and writing, but it did.

One thought that the essay itself triggers in me surrounds the question of what I am doing on The Chorus of Union, and why. One has to have a certain measure of arrogance and narcissism to post anything on the Internets, and I am aware that I am sadly overburdened with both qualities. The arrogance is the assertion that I have something to say that no one in the public sphere (within reason) is saying; the narcissism is that I should say it in the public sphere at all. This is one of the great ethical conundrums of anyone seeking recognition in a world of millions seeking recognition, for there are many more productive things that don’t feed my personal vices that I could, might, should be doing with my time, arguably. My own internal response to all of that, on reflection, is the quality of and sentiment expressed in a handful of my essays. If the pursuit of ambition and legacy isn’t entirely venal, I hope that amongst that handful, The Blind and Toothless World will stand at the front of what I have dedicated my time and effort to achieve for whomever decides what I write is worth reading, and to pass down to my children and beyond.

I followed that up with a challenging thought for anyone who is soaked, drenched, nay, even marinated in the dominant post-colonial view of history generally, but with regard to Israel as a nation specifically. The question of When Does History Begin is one that the post-colonialists never really want to answer, because theirs isn’t really a history-project, per se, if you think that the study of history is primarily to present a narrative about relevant events of the past that is also true. Post-colonial thought is primarily a political movement, its telos is power in pursuit of “progress” as such, not truth. So-called “Settler-colonialism” is the story of mankind from the moment the first man from Africa arrived in Europe and put a spear through a neanderthal males’ chest before raping his mate. It would be better for the post-colonialists and others for whom the brutality of history is too much to face, to accept that our fallen state goes far back beyond the establishment of civilization. Our tendency to conquer and settle, to commit murder, mass murder, mass rape, genocide, and xenocide (where is the mastodon, I dare you to ask?) is deep within us. To choose some vague period before Europeans started to “win” the civilisational war as when history begins is to spin history like a globe and randomly stop it with your finger, choosing that point as the center of humanity. This view of history infantilizes the co-called victims of colonialism, and inadvertently and ironically creates a eurocentric view of history; only where Europeans are villains instead of heroes. In this day and age of morally ambiguous anti-heroes in media, vilifying white people only really strengthens their position in the imagination causing the entire enterprise to backfire. So, um, stop it?

I have two addendums to the Israeli-Hamas (Hezbollah, Houthi, Iran, etc.) conflict. One, the word genocide now means almost nothing, thank you so much global critics of Israel. The number of deaths in Gaza (reported by Hamas, an oh-so-reliable source to everyone from the NYT to the UN for some reason) has slowed month on month to a number low enough that anyone using the term genocide should probably study some real genocides to learn what the term means. Is Gaza on the verge of a humanitarian crisis? I have no doubt, but NPR among nearly all other mainstream sources have been saying so for a year without the crisis yet manifesting. Are the Gazans in a terrible position? Yes. But a cursory glance at Rwanda, Cambodia, the Great Leap Forward, the Holodomor, the Armenian Genocide, The Rape of Nanjing, etc., etc., without even looking at the Holocaust, should tell you this isn’t a genocide, and to use the word is irresponsible and almost grotesque. If watering down the impact of one of our most important words was the intent, mission accomplished Left Who Cried Genocide.

The second addendum is that it looks like the war is almost over. Iran has been materially weakened on all fronts, Hezbollah has been decimated somewhat easily, after being decapitated by the 3D-chess-level beeper attacks by Mossad, Syria’s fall cuts off the supply line, Hamas is nearly vanquished, and Trump, unlike Biden, will not shy from smacking the Houthis around if they stick their heads up out of their holes. The war as it winds down will rob the far left of their latest cause célèbre, and they will have to scramble for a new outrage to exploit–afterall, they already have the tents and their sense of self-righteousness, what else do they need?

After the horror of October 7th, and the horror of the American “activists’” responses, I cleansed my palette with some 90s nostalgia in two essays titled In The Nineties We Had Hope. In part 1, I explored the exemplary heroes that found their way into story-telling in the media landscape of the 1990s, mainly President Bartlett of The West Wing, and Jean Luc Picard of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Excepting Captain America, who is now dead or at least not under contract while the Marvel Cinematic Universe takes very slow aim at both of its own feet with a double barrel shotgun, we could use some heroes to look up to instead of what we’ve been fed these last few decades. In part 2, I was trying to point out that much of our current reality was foreshadowed by films made in the late 90s. If you were going to go back and read either piece, part 2 is better, and on my list of favorites. Art is fascinating in its ability to feel what’s happening, to sense the anxieties of the present and prophecy the challenges of the future. The essay also has a big plug for readers to revisit Fukuyama’s The End of History and The Last Man. It’s more relevant today than even he might think.

In March and April I returned to the topic of Patriotism. In part 1, I made the case that Pride as a general rule was a major problem–and every wisdom tradition in history said “duh.” Not the most original insight. However, what I think is original is the idea that when people participate in the self-flagellation of anti-patriotism to express and induce shame in themselves and others, that that is really a performative form of pride–the pride of showing off how shamed one is. Then I invited the reader to embrace instead the patriotism of gratitude. In part 2, I talk about the full embrace of the story of America from the point of view of Heroes and Villains. This is likely not the last time I will write of the great Civil War hero Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, and many who know me will maybe roll their eyes, but it is in admiring others that we aspire to who we wish to become, and I can’t think of a better model for a young American to embrace. In part 3, a short and syllogistic piece of writing, I make the case that in America we should view our nation as our child, rather than the old world’s cultural tendency to think in terms of “motherland” or “fatherland.” A child needs love, nurturing, and should be an object of the deepest gratitude for life. The main thrust was, we fight for the things and people we love, and when you fight for your country with gratitude in your heart, it’s like fighting for your children, not just to have a better life, but to be better, period, than you. The same could hold true for love of country.

I don’t have too much to say about these essays–the first two are long theses with some writing I think is both fine and funny, and at the risk of hypocrisy I am somewhat proud of them. The third is simple and short, and more of a logical construction somewhat dependent on the first two essays in the series. I don’t spend that much time on critiquing the right as maybe would satisfy some, but I don’t really care. Jingoism is just an obvious vice, whereas the left’s anti-patriotism is more complex and requires more nuanced and thorough treatment. Part 2 I think is my favorite, and I tried very hard, by way of introduction, to give a thorough definition of what the study of history is really for that I believe to be correct, and is, at least in my researches, a novel justification for history as a discipline. The study of history is ailing in universities at the moment, and a re-injection of purpose might be what it needs. I can only hope someone in the proper position reads my explanation of what history is for, or at least comes up with a similar idea on his or her own.

Recently, one of the thinkers in today’s world I admire, Paul Kingsnorth, wrote a very long and thought-provoking piece Against Christian Civilization that sent me rushing back to my own old post, Once More Unto the Breach, Dear Friends, where I get rather grand and maybe a little indulgent in my advocacy for Western Civilization. Grand and indulgent though it is, it was more personal than I usually make my essays, and much of the frame I set my arguments in still moves me. But the point wasn’t my “lived experience” to somehow greedily own in authenticity, hoarding the wisdom–if any–gleaned from my unique perspective to which my audience must bow without question. The clash of ethnicities that lies within me, both Greek and Jew, are legacies of culture in which we as Americans, and members of humanity, can all share. Western civilization goes far beyond the petty tribal concerns of those who live within it and benefit from it, it is a great trust to be preserved and passed down.

A small section within the essay is something of an ode to St. John’s College in Annapolis where my son is currently in his first year. One project that occurred to me over Christmas when talking to him was some kind of essay of interviews with students there. In my deepest dreams, a documentary might be better, but alas, the limitations of time and money might shrink it to essay proportions. My real desire with this idea is to try and get the word out to the world of the kind of young people, and old tutors, who participate and define St. Johns and the educational experience that school provides. The more I hear, the more convinced I am of the value of a single curriculum, a canonical approach to higher education, an old inquiry-based educational model that goes back to Socrates, and more, a community of dedicated students and teachers that feel like they are a part of something greater than themselves. This is my impression, so far, just from talking to the few St. John's students I’ve met. You can get a hint of the magic environment of the college from that school's promotional materials, but just a hint. Perhaps this year I can start that project, we’ll see.

My next piece isn’t really an essay at all but a commencement address I wrote for the 2024 graduating class of the school where I worked until last June. It was my fourth such address, and it too was more personal than I would normally include in an essay for Chorus of Union. So personal in fact that I think it should mostly speak for itself.

The one issue I raised that might benefit from a comment here is that I included some of my every-day preoccupations around the terms that people use every day. Teaching English, I read a bit, and being somewhat suspicious of trends, I tend to read texts that are older. This may be a topic for an essay to come, but my cut-off is usually 50 years or older; that’s a roughly safe number of years for a literary work to make it through the fads and fashions of the day in which it was written, graduating to something like a candidate for addition to the canon of that which speaks through the ages. In so doing, I have become something of a collector of terms that have been replaced, that should perhaps be revived. In this piece I pointed out that “Identity” has replaced “Character” in our modern discourse, and that we are the losers for it. “Values” have replaced “Virtues,” “having anxiety” has replaced “feeling anxious” etc. Language really does matter, and a study of shifting terms can really illuminate cultural attitudes. Again, more on that maybe soon.

My next series of essays I titled “Chasing It,” which I borrowed from a Sopranos episode from that show’s controversial final season. Like many I was interested in the Sopranos when it started as it seemed to be a fresh take on the Gangster genre, and I watched for some years till the repetitive depravity of the show bored me away. But I returned for the final season to see how things would wrap up, wondering what the show runner was going to do. Since the drama of the show was dependent on the continued adventures of an anti-hero who, by rights, should have been imprisoned or whacked long before it reached six seasons, the final decisions of David Chase, the creator of the show, would set the moral legacy in stone. In the event Chase, showing to me deeply satirical insight, and exposing his massive audience for grotesque voyeurs, jerked the certitude of a definitive ending from the viewing pubic with an inspired ending cut through with critical ambiguity, cutting to black in the middle of the final scene, robbing us all of closure. Chase clearly condemned us all for seeking either the redemption of an anti-hero who never really sought it, or a romantic execution of the villain we all knew he was, though we watched anyway, delighting in Tony Soprano’s ability to get away with it time and again.

A careful review of that final season, I contend, proves this was Chase’s plan all along. He sets up every story line to underscore the main theme of the season, and Chasing It was one of the best for this. Tony is a monster, but more, he is an empty monster, and in this episode he’s constantly trying to fill that emptiness with gambling wins of absurd amounts. He’s already rich and the boss, etc., but because only an empty ravenous monster reaches that level of achievement in his world, Chase takes a full episode near the end of the series to exhibit the hollow crown he wears. That’s a long intro to three essays where I never mention Tony Soprano, but I thought I should give the title the reference anyway.

Part 1 might be mischaracterized as a take-down of The New Yorker magazine. I’d characterize it more as a loving eulogy, and a challenge to raise the standard of the past. Even recently, after the election, The New Yorker felt the need to blatantly exhibit its adherence to leftist orthodoxies in a piece called “Reprise.” Ten responses from public figures (called “writers,” though only about half the authors qualify) were printed. Out of the ten, two showed some insight. The first was, unsurprisingly, from George Saunders who continues to prove he’s a singular talent. The other was Adam Gopnik who tried to spin a unity message out of his dry-straw feelings with limited success. The rest, as if sent from central casting for MSNBC commentary, beat their brows and rended their hair over the women-hating racist fascist who now controls all branches of government. Each donned some kind of sackcloth and covered the pages of the magazine in shibboleth ashes with their “think” pieces in language that would encourage a trip to the gunsmith in another era. But these are the elites of intellectual discourse, so I doubt such actions will follow. As in the essay I wrote, I want to make it clear that it isn’t that I’m unsympathetic to their concerns regardless of how hysterically presented. I am more just disappointed in how received the thoughts and opinions were as presented. The New Yorker used to lead the cosmopolitan elite with new ideas and challenging insights (again, thank you Saunders for being the lone voice in the piece to attempt that), but in recent years it has bowed to the trite and tired old themes of the Urban Monoculture I suppose The New Yorker helped to create. To underscore how pathetic this particular piece was, and how far reaching the dull rot of mediocrity has penetrated, one of the “think” pieces was written by Rachel Maddow. Central casting indeed.

As long as the staff of The New Yorker continues to chase the trends, it will remain in its own happy little dark-age bubble, and will remain unworthy of its legacy. In the words of one half-literate recent election winner: sad.

In part 2 of the series, the topic of my own boredom continued to fuel my thoughts, this time with regard to the world of art where shock has become the monochromatic aesthetic standard for over a hundred years. I bounced it back to pop-art and pointed out poor Madonna’s place in it all. What’s interesting about this essay is that it might be too late. In this interminable and only half coherent piece for Harper’s, art critic Dean Kissik, with much deeper knowledge of the avant garde than I have, seems to be declaring that the world of art is entering a period of mediocrity led by identity politics. It was a strange essay to read, given that what Kissik feels as a great loss to humanity is exactly the banal-shock-centric art world he’s been fawning over for his career, and that I decried in my piece. And his complaint that the world of art is more about who is doing the art than if the art is any good begs certain confused questions from me surrounding what exactly could quality possibly mean after four generations of Dean Kissiks have systematically destroyed the concept. One thing that’s accidentally provocative about the essay for this art-loving laymen is that there wasn’t much to look at from the art mentioned in the piece whether Kissik praised them or condemned them. Is there cause for hope that we might soon see a new renaissance after the long dark tunnel that was the 20th century finally runs out of mountain? Well, this piece from The Free Press supported Kissik to some extent, in a more pointed piece focusing on ballet, could mean a turn in the nature of critics. Or it could just mean another century of transient nonsense and insulting hyper-shock, only now from the DEI perspective. I’m sadly not optimistic. The art world has been captured by ideologies before, and stagnated for generations before. One of the strongest critiques from the early Modernists was pushing back against a similar stagnation, which is how we got Shock art in the first place. Things will, inevitably, change. When is anyone’s guess.

My final piece in the series was a larger critique of our society’s multi-generational trend of keeping emerging adults in a state of arrested development. The near worship of youth and youthfulness is hitting a peak right about now, and nothing exemplifies that more than our popular culture, the boundaries of which seem to have dissolved to dominate our entire culture. I don’t have much to add to this piece. We should encourage young people to act like grownups, it isn’t that complicated. The Teenager as a category is a product of the mid-20th century surplus wealth of the industrial nations, and it isn’t doing any good. However, one thing I meant to add that encapsulates the male side of things, is the following meme I’m somewhat fond of:

Finally, of my three pieces on the election, two will seem almost dated as they focused on the tactics involved ia maximizing electoral math. Moot points in a post election environment. If you want to see how right I was, not to brag, the first piece featured Kamala Harris’ baggage, and the second the bubble the Harris campaign seemed to be operating out of.

I haven’t paid too much attention to politics relative to before the election. I find taking a break is probably healthy, and though I still keep up on the latest outrage (did you hear Trump was going to annex Canada! If you believe that’s going to happen I have a bridge to sell you), I tend to view what’s happening currently as the hype-press-conference before the heavyweight fight. No, I don’t care about Pete Hegseth or Matt Gaetz’s in-then-out, or the many fears surrounding Elon–right now it’s all prologue to whatever chaos follows. But my third essay I think is relevant and worth consideration.

Trump’s Obama Moment focuses on issues I’ve been chewing over for fifteen years. I’ve recently been rewatching the Aaron Sorkin’s short lived HBO show Newsroom, and it covers the last populist insurgency I wrote about in this essay. The ingenious way in which Newsroom covered that 2012-ish moment has sparked a lot of memories of how that era unfolded. It’s fascinating to review how the Koch brothers helped the Tea Party rise with massive financial backing, and how the Occupy movement rose and fell as easily as midwinter squall. A careful look at the Tea Party rhetoric and bluster reveals the Birth of Trump and MAGA quite clearly. The Koch’s could quite easily be seen as Dr. Frankenstein’s to the Trump/MAGA monster, though one Koch is dead and the other came out against Trump. Too little too late. The remaining Koch and associated organization has reaped what it has sown despite raising millions to defeat their monster in 2023. Meanwhile, the left-wing Occupy movement was made up of mostly affluent anarchist Trustafarians, so there’s no mystery why that failed–see again Newsroom for a great scene illustrating why anarchists are idiots who have never helped anyone, ever. Many of the millennials who admired Occupy have moved into middle-age as self-described socialists, and because they don’t trust anyone older than they are, they will keep having to stumble along and learn the lessons of realpolitik the hard way, which will likely age them out of all influence before they get a strategy worth implementing. Which leaves Trump to make something happen, and as I wrote in the piece, I’m not overly optimistic about that prospect.

As the new year dawns, LA is on fire, the middle east has changed drastically with the fall of Syria, the Ukraine war is a stale-mate, and the world’s sands continue to shift under our feet. Though I try to reign it in, my narcissism and arrogance still compel me to comment, and I’ll have a lot to say starting in February, though I’ve been looking at religion more, and the new rise of faith that’s clearly been taking hold in America. Canada will likely remain a separate country, and mass-deportations don’t look like an immediate priority for the incoming administration, but I doubt that those who really hate Trump will have to wait long for a substantive reason to be angry. It’s going to be a bumpy ride. I’ll be here thinking about it.

One final note. Having a hundred or so folks open my essays is sure better than nothing, and I appreciate you all for sticking with me. And, but, so if you read my stuff every month and can think of even one person who might like what I wrote, please share it with them. I love writing and thinking and sharing my thoughts. Also feel free to write to me if you like, I tend to write back.