A kind of winning
The shape of this moment in time
A strangely warm but decidedly fierce October storm came in during the night, whipping up both sea and air into a frenzy. The wind gusts and swirls, and even the trees are rocking back and forth, yet it was totally dry and 25° above freezing even early this morning, when things are usually at their coldest. Now, though, now the rain has come. It beats at the windows, streaks flowing across the glass at angles that change by the minute. Most of the birds have stopped trying to fly in this surge, but three gulls are out there. Three gulls fighting the wind, stalled but aloft. Three gulls who are not winning by the usual metrics, but they are not exactly losing, either. They are holding steady. In winds this strong and erratic, one can hardly be expected to make progress. Holding steady in a storm like this is, I suppose, a kind of winning.
I returned this week to one of the most haunting lyrics I know, sang it on DarkHorse, even, where we discussed the oeuvre of Roger Waters and of Pink Floyd more generally. We discussed their work in light of the blatant anti-semitism that the world is now facing; in light of Waters’ own muddled, inconsistent positions on same; and in light of Pink Floyd’s often heart-wrenching lyrics.
1983’s The Final Cut was Pink Floyd’s final album before Rogers left the band. The title track from the album begins with these four lines:
Through the fish-eyed lens of tear-stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I’m spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide
It seems to many that all is lost. How can we possibly recover actual civilization from this trajectory, these battles between enemies both ancient and new. Many people are hiding. What is this? What is the shape of this moment in time?
Others, though, others have a vicious clarity. They are giving in to excruciating, exquisite rage. What a delicious release it is, to hate other people with a passion that cannot be derailed. How fucking dare you tell me not to bring vengeance down upon my enemies. Now you are my enemy, too. Be warned.
We are being played. Yes, there will always be conflict. Yes, resources are finite, and far too many people have far too few of them. Yes, people will come to different conclusions about what to do based on what their priorities are, who they know, what they are being told, what lives they themselves have lived. But there are forces that profit by keeping us confused, wary, and at each other’s throats. Those forces are profiting now.
Some of the chaos and hysteria that is downstream of the barbaric attacks by Hamas on Israeli civilians on October 7 was predictable. People in both camps are willing to conflate civilians with the terrorist organizations or governments that claim to represent them. Israelis are not their government; only one Israeli is Benjamin Netanyahu. Palestinians are not Hamas; a large fraction of people in Gaza are children. But while condemning the rape, murder, and kidnapping of festival goers should have been easy and obvious for everyone, it was not. Many, instead, are celebrating the brutality of Hamas.
My friend Holly has pointed out that we got here, in part, by ignoring far too many warning signs. “Welcome to the world of intersectionality,” she writes. “Anyone with any identity characteristics that rank high on the oppression scale is due respect, trust, deference, and entitled to have their feelings catered to, to the fullest extent possible.” The forces that profit from our exquisite rage only need convince us that having dark skin or being Palestinian, for instance, are the most deserving identity characteristics. Add the divisive ideology of the moment, and voila: bickering on a scale to end civilization.
That postmodern inflected identity politics would spill off campus in explosive and awful ways was predicted in 2018 in testimony before Congress by Bret Weinstein, my husband and partner in nearly all things. This was not long after he and I were ejected from our own campus for objecting to racism that was passing itself off as the opposite. Now, finally, the wealthy donors that so heavily fund our elite institutions have woken up, and are beginning to pull their funds. And now, finally, the institutions are beginning to listen.
What “the left” has become in recent years is a vengeful, hateful ideology that prioritizes immutable characteristics, and would have its way through authoritarian means. Black Lives Matter is racist at its core, but many liberals were fooled by the name it gave to itself1. Some of those liberals erected “don’t hurt me” walls to protect themselves; others spilled onto the streets. There is some truth to horseshoe theory.
Yasmine Mohammed is a prominent human rights campaigner who, at 19, was married off to a member of Al-Qaeda by her mother. She had an interview published this week which I hope has reach. In it, she reports that her father, now dead, was from Gaza. Gaza was his homeland. He was also a loving man, a generous man, and his heart broke for the inability of the region to find peace. He blamed Hamas for this failure. Mohammed’s mother, in stark contrast, is filled with hatred—for Jews, but also for apostates. When Yasmine left Islam, her mother told her that she would have Yasmine killed.
The anti-semitism of sheltered white Western liberals does not have the same origins as the anti-semitism of Yasmine Mohammed’s mother. But hatred finds common ground, and from there, it grows.
All is not lost. We have lost our way, to be sure, but all is not lost.
Holding steady in a storm like this is a kind of winning.
Perhaps we all need to begin with ourselves. If you find yourself spiraling down to the hole in the ground where you hide, what would it take to bring you out? Other than rage, what brings you delicious, exquisite sensations? There is still much truth and beauty to be discovered and created in the world. We would all do well to seek it, and preserve it.
I was myself fooled by Black Lives Matter in the early days, when it seemed to be doing the obvious: demanding justice for black people. BLM first came to my attention after the acquittal of George Zimmerman, the man who shot (young black man) Trayvon Martin in 2012. NYT reported on the acquittal here.
Last year I took my parents and my girlfriend to see Rodger Waters. We had all grown up on Pink Floyd, and could probably sing along with most of their catalog. So many people of all different sorts and from so many backgrounds, brought together to celebrate music. He could have led us through a series of sing-alongs and it would have been a love fest. But no, he went straight into radicalized politics, complete with 4 giant screens for the video content. A few of his points really did make sense, but the majority of the show was more propaganda than art. At one point he stopped to tell us that anyone who thought the show was too political could 'fuck off'. As we left the show, the crowds were abnormally quite. It was such a waste. What could have brought people together instead drove them apart. What could have been one of those concerts you remember for a lifetime came out as something I would rather forget. What a shame.
Thank you for this hopeful perspective. Understanding how numbers and functions work to model the world is what fascinates me, so I’ll continue to use that to motivate my lessons as a public university faculty member. I appreciated when my professors provided a neutral and focused learning space for us in the days after 9/11. I found refuge in my studies when the world seemed to be falling apart around me. No politics, no opinions, just pure mathematics to fascinate us and for us to revel in. I intend to do the same for my students. That’s what they want from me and that’s what I’m good at anyway. Keeping afloat and doing my job. Thank you again for the recentering.