My dad was a pharmacist. He had an old-fashioned store (including an actual soda fountain and stools) and some of the old-fashioned tools of the trade: scales and eye-droppers, spatulas and ointment bases, graded flasks and beakers, amphorae, and his mortar and pestle.
Pharmacy
was a bit more of an art in those days and doctors often wrote prescriptions
that had a little eye of newt in them. This could make Dad cranky, as they took
time and counterspace, but I suspect that, secretly, he liked doing them. He
would bring out the mortar and pestle (sometimes with a Remington’s Practice of Pharmacy), and, for all intents and
purposes, he could have been an herbalist for a Pharaoh, so old was the
tradition of combining exotic ingredients and using time and pressure until the
desired potency and texture was achieved.
I have been thinking about that mortar and pestle the last few
weeks. They remind me of how just the simplest set of tools, coupled with
accumulated knowledge and craftsmanship, can produce something useful and even
essential. And, they make me wonder whether, in this insane age, where
ignorance and even falsehoods are celebrated and experience scorned, there is
anything at all they still have to teach.
Last month, I attended the 16th annual conference of Columbia’s Center
on Capitalism and Society. The topic was “The Economic Consequences of Mr.
Trump: Jobs, Wages, Trade, Growth, Health and Satisfaction.” The organizers
made a real effort to include views from across the spectrum, although it’s
fair to say a majority were not Trump supporters. Nevertheless, the overall
tone was cautious and analytical, rather than hypercritical. These are serious
people (including three Nobel Prize winners), all literate and classically
trained, and all share a deep understanding of the laws of economics, and a
vast knowledge of data and historical trends.
There
is no way I can do justice to a day of such intense sobriety, so I’m going to
take a shortcut. Trump is not like anyone in their collective experience.
Rather, he is the mad scientist who tosses out the Remington
while throwing into the mortar things they warned you in apothecary school
definitely don’t go together. At the bottom of the bowl is a bizarre
combination of traditional Republican pro-business policies and an utterly
unconventional dose of populism, corporatism, and mercantilism. To thoroughly
abuse Neil Simon, it can best be described as either very bad meat, or very
good cheese.
But does it work? Or does the toxicity-to-efficacy ratio leave
the patient on the brink of multi-organ collapse? The conferees’ goal was to
make some sense out of it all.
It wasn’t all negative. Even Trump’s harshest critics didn’t
deny some upside. There has been growth and lower unemployment, and the
stock-market has (or had) been making new highs. Trump does plenty of
mainstream things that conservative economists love—mostly cut taxes, provide a
safe harbor for repatriation of profits held abroad, roll back regulations, and
aim at non-military government spending. For the rest of Trump’s package, there
was considerably less enthusiasm. There was a lot of concern about the deficit,
and surprising consensus on Trump’s gutting of environmental regulations and
his obsession with coal. I expected the more conservative members of the group
to defend this, but just about everyone saw the costs dwarfing whatever
short-term economic benefits might accrue. And virtually no one liked the trade
wars and tariffs; bear in mind, to a classically trained economist, the
infamous Smoot-Hawley bill, passed in 1930 and signed by Herbert Hoover,
remains the gold standard of bad.
Yet in all of these cool and calculated observations, graphs,
and charts, there was also an interesting undercurrent: Trump is not an
idiot—he can be appallingly ignorant, but most of the time he’s just purposely
unorthodox and lacking in subtlety. And perhaps he has done us all a favor by identifying
issues that we have been unable to reconcile using the old ways—things that the
electorate may have internalized and voted on without having fully articulated.
There are two main themes of the start of the 21st Century. The first is the
unraveling of the post-World War II international order, which is based on a
web of military alliances cinched together with trade agreements. The second is
the crumbling “domestic” order that is supposed to deliver both widespread
prosperity and the type of government that the largest number of people can
accept as beneficial and reasonable. These are things that need our attention.
Of course, Trump’s medicine for both is typically Trumpian: A
strong dose of Trump. “Real” America is mad as hell and not going to take it
anymore, either at home or abroad. Get on board, pay the toll of obeisance, or
get stomped on.
Can this work? Trump says he can win any trade war. Few
professionals agree, yet he did renegotiate NAFTA and get some concessions. We
can debate the extent of his victory, but even if there is a marginal
improvement, then the question is strictly whether the damage to relationships
with the Mexicans and Canadians (and, potentially, those other countries who
may no longer see the U.S. as a stable negotiating partner) was worth the
price. Is the NAFTA example scalable, and can it be applied to foreign policy?
Is Trump’s fetish for Putin and his contempt for NATO partly for show to
persuade the Europeans to take greater responsibility for their own security? If
so, will that also reduce our influence? Pretty much all of us know what the
Establishment’s consensus on that is—he’s a reckless fool. But he’s a reckless
fool who happens to be President, and until he leaves, he’s the only game in
town.
When he does leave, what’s next? To this point, I had a
fascinating conversation last week with a semi-retired journalist who had spent
many years covering the inner workings of Congress. He talked about the
destructive influence of partisanship, but what was really interesting was his
insights as to how laws are made. What most people don’t understand about
legislating is that, to do it right, you need both openness to other ideas and
sufficient depth to grasp the nuances. Obviously, Senators and Congressmen
can’t possibly have granular expertise in every topic (most of them aren’t
interested anyway) so they rely on aides who theoretically do. The system works
if the aides are serious and involved—they really can be the unsung heroes of
good legislation. The problem, the journalist told me, is that the aides are no
longer any good. Where once they were hired for their abilities, now they are
either basically publicity people, focusing on the soundbite that will make
their boss look good, or come from (and will return to) the industries or
special interests they are supposed to help regulate.
When the aides are bad, the laws they write are bad, shot
through with technical errors and sprinkled with spoils and petty punishments.
This, perversely, feeds the disdain that most Americans have for their
government, and further radicalizes them, leading to ever-more extreme office
holders with even less capacity for doing anything well. The process repeats
itself in election after election, until what we have is the distilled essence of
stupid, and leads, inevitably, to someone like Trump. So, whether Trump is the
apotheosis of an age that rejects knowledge and nuance because it seems
ineffectual, or just the product of it, is beside the point. The trendlines
have been here for decades, and it’s the electorate itself that has engaged in
self-sabotage. The shock of 2016 shouldn’t have been that Trump won the
Electoral College. It’s that anyone like Trump could get 63 million votes. That
reflects our, and conventional wisdom’s, collective failure.
How do we stop failing, regain our secular faith in our system
and recapture our competence? As the Kavanaugh hearings showed us,
grandstanding, preening for the cameras, and the worst kind of rank
partisanship seem to be the default setting for virtually everyone in, or
aspiring to, higher office. When you get this sick, there is no overnight
miracle cure.
Maybe we just have to go back to basics. There is one thing my
Dad sometimes did that sticks with me. He couldn’t spend time with everyone picking
up a prescription. But occasionally, especially for a worried parent, he did.
He would emerge from behind his raised white work area, the magic potion in his
left hand. He used his right as a musical conductor might have in a quieter
passage, held at a 45 degree angle, palm face down, gently counting beats as he
gave precise instructions. He identified possible side-effects, mentioned that
improvement might not be linear or immediate, gave markers of progress to watch
for. Only then would he place the package into anxious hands. These
interactions, which rarely lasted more than a minute or two, very often calmed
people, made them a partner, and gave them agency.
Expertise, partnership, and agency is exactly what many want
from their government, not endless bickering and embarrassing public displays.
There’s a palpable ache out there to be called to something better, something
with beauty and meaning and value. Most of us feel it, but it is particularly
acute in younger people, for whom the future is a lifetime of learning, and the
mistakes of the past not their doing.
Perhaps
that explains two emails I received from my friend Christine Helmer, a Martin
Luther scholar and Professor of Religious Studies at Northwestern:
“The quarter started yesterday—my intro to theology is oversubscribed, odd, seems like the kids are really anxious nowadays and seeking some lasting values (amid a news cycle that is thoroughly distressing)” and then, “Getting ready for my oversubscribed class, dealing with the knowledge of self and knowledge of God…”
“The quarter started yesterday—my intro to theology is oversubscribed, odd, seems like the kids are really anxious nowadays and seeking some lasting values (amid a news cycle that is thoroughly distressing)” and then, “Getting ready for my oversubscribed class, dealing with the knowledge of self and knowledge of God…”
If the future of this country wants to grapple with big issues
like philosophy and theology, maybe the rest of us should take heed and hold up
our end.
Or, to borrow from a different liturgy, the Gates of Repentance
are always open.
Michael Liss (Moderate Moderator)
The Mortar and The Pestle was first published on October 15, 2018 in 3quarksdaily.com
https://www.3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2018/10/the-mortar-and-the-pestle.html
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