Up until around 2003, I had lived a life that was mostly free of politics. This wasn’t actually true, of course: No one lives a life free of politics, no matter how much they stick their head in the sand and pretend otherwise; generally those who claim they are “apolitical” are those in a privileged position insulated enough from the real-world ramifications of politics that they can convince themselves they’re outside of it. But when you are in your early-to-mid-twenties, and you’re preoccupied with your own life, money, your job, your lack of a career, your relationships, the growing concern that in spite of your best efforts your life is beginning to actually count … you can convince yourself that politics are the least of your worries. Even when they are not.
That changed in 2003. While we were all still reeling from September 11, it became clear we were about to go to war with Iraq for … reasons? To hear the stories told now, one would think that the country was just in a frenzy to go to Iraq, that we all saw Colin Powell on television, said, “OK, good enough for us!” and then floored it on the killing machines. But there was a strong anti-Iraq war sentiment among young people (and among the elderly, now that you mention it), and when it came to war, well, war is not one of those issues you can just wave away as background noise and return to your regularly scheduled programming, though I have no doubt that we will continue to try.
Having lived through the last time our country charged face-first into a war despite a lack of international support (“you forgot Poland!”) and any sort of exit or transitional plan or strategy, it is surprising to see how little is remembered from a time which, until the last three years, seemed like the most important and formidable of my lifetime. We’re seeing a lot of the same shit already, from media pliability to default flag-waving to blatant, erroneous attempts to connect whatever today’s convenient target is to September 11 somehow. It is all so familiar.
This is particularly frustrating because we just learned this lesson, or at least I thought we had. I feel like I just watched a decade’s worth of movies about the folly of the Iraq war, some great ones, from No End in Sight to The Unknown Known. The Iraq war was the American disaster of my lifetime—by the end, even John McCain called it “a very serious mistake”—and one I suspected would shape American policy against reckless war for generations to come. And yet here were are again. Already.
There were protests then, thousands of them, and long before things went bad. In February 2003, the UK had its biggest protest ever, more than a million people begging their country not to join in a senseless war. UK Prime Minister Tony Blair said he did not "seek unpopularity as a badge of honour, but sometimes it is the price of leadership and the cost of conviction.” Three million people marched in Rome; two million in Madrid. And this was before it all went to shit. Do we have the stomach for that now? Can we mobilize like that? We seem exhausted. We seem worn down.
I do see protests and mass gatherings in the wake of what happened two days ago. But they’re not here.
It is only natural that it would seem to me that we have already forgotten all the hard-earned lessons from the Iraq War. It feels like only yesterday to me, but it wasn’t, in fact, only yesterday. I am after all old. Seventeen years is an extremely long time. It can be hard to remember myself. The ramp-up for war was in full force around the exact time we all launched The Black Table, back in January 2003, and looking through the archive of that time now, it is remarkable how quickly our little site that was supposed to be about goofy in-jokes and feature stories about being young and stupid in New York City got itself populated with fiery polemics and interviews about Life In Wartime. Two weeks in, Daulerio was interviewing a former Army officer-turned-elderly-porn-star about the Axis of Evil. (He was for the invasion of Iraq.) Gillin asked the Church of Satan if America was immoral. We interviewed a man called xTreme Elvis who drank his own urine on stage if we should go to war. (He was against the invasion.) We counted down the actual television minutes until the first bombs were dropped. It was every waking minute of our lives. It was the only thing to talk about. To not talk about it would have been irresponsible … nonsensical. It radicalized us, if just temporarily. It made us make noise, even if no one was listening. Especially if no one was listening.
But that was a very long time ago. There’s so much happening now, so much more noise, so much more to be terrified of. In a world of constant input, should it be a surprise that, when history repeats itself, it repeats itself so much faster than it used to? Seventeen years ago? Christ, I can’t remember February 2019. Do you realize that the whole Jeff Bezos-National Enquirer scandal was less than a year ago? I was fairly certain that happened in 1988. Robert Kraft is out there cheering at Patriots games now like nothing happened! We move on much more swiftly now.
One thing is the same, though: It is completely fucking terrifying. That part comes back to you—like riding a bike. There’s a key difference this time, though. Seventeen years ago, you weren’t sure that the people in charge knew what they were doing. Now, you are certain that the one guy behind all this absolutely does not. It’s scary. But it’s probably not scary enough.
So what do you do? I always remember covering the Republican National Convention in Cleveland four years ago, and being there for Trump’s thundering The Walls Are Closing In acceptance speech. It was one of the darkest things I’d ever seen, signalling toward an unfathomable future, and I found myself staggered, overwhelmed. When I got home from Cleveland, all I wanted to do was shut the world off, to forget politics existed, just go lose myself in a baseball game, convince myself it was all going to be OK. And I did just that, watching a 16-inning Cardinals win over the Dodgers, a thrilling five-hour epic that featured a ninth-inning, two-out game-tying homer from Jedd Gyorko off Kenley Jansen and a walkoff homer from Matt Adams at nearly 1 in the morning. I screamed, alone in my family room, so happy to still be able to be so happy.
It was the perfect escape from everything. But then the game ended, and I opened my eyes. It was all still there. It always will be. So: What are we going to do about it? That seems to be the central question of 2020. This will be my 45th full year on this planet of ours. I’m not sure there’s ever been a more pivotal one.
Here is a numerical breakdown of all the things I wrote this week, in order of what I believe to be their quality. (This is an attempt to have an objective look at the value of my work in a way that I suspect will be difficult to sustain.)
The Best Genre Movies of 2019, SYFY Wire. Only two pieces this week. It’s the week between Christmas and New Years, cut me some slack.
The Cubs Could Change Baseball Over the Next Few Weeks, MLB.com. If I were a Cubs fan, and I had given that ownership so much money over the last decade only to cry poor and maybe trade away Kris freaking Bryant, gotta say, I’d be pretty irritated right now.
Also, light week, gimme a break, it’s the holidays.
PODCASTS
Grierson & Leitch, no show this week, back mid-week to preview the Oscar nominations and the rest of 2020.
Waitin' Since Last Saturday, we previewed the Sugar Bowl, but we didn’t do a postgame on it, probably because that game ended at around 1 in the morning.
Seeing Red, no show this week.
MAILBAG
This week’s question comes from Alex Brown:
I pay for a subscription to New York and read the physical magazine. Your writing only appears in the print version occasionally; it most often is published in Intelligencer, one of their online verticals. OK, I can still read your work if I click on the link in your newsletter. But no. Now, I get a blocker that says I have exceeded my free allotment of articles. Just tell me how I can read your articles for New York magazine! I am sounding cranky, but what I really want to sound like is an eager reader of your work.
— writer Alex Brown from Vermont
That seems really frustrating! I would think if you were a subscriber to New York’s print edition, you should get Website access. You can find all NY mag pieces, either print or web, right here. If you are logged in with your subscription, it’s supposed to be connected. It sounds like a tech issue. I’d try their help desk—sorry!—but give them a week or so: They actually just moved out of their old office this week and everything is surely upside down.
GET THIS LUNATIC OUT OF HERE 2020 POWER RANKINGS
Julian Castro barely made much of a dent in the Presidential reasons, for a myriad of reasons that began with Castro himself. I always wanted to like and support Castro, but just never could or did. We have not heard the last from him.
Also: Considering everything happening, and the fact that his lead seems to be expanding rather than contracting … Joe Biden is this close to taking over the top spot in these rankings. Didn’t see that coming.
1. Elizabeth Warren
2. Joe Biden
3. Bernie Sanders
4. Amy Klobuchar
5. Cory Booker
6. Pete Buttigieg
7. Michael Bloomberg
8. Andrew Yang
9. Deval Patrick
10. Michael Bennet
11. Tom Steyer
12. William Weld
13. John Delaney
14. Marianne Williamson
15. Tulsi Gabbard
16. Joe Walsh
ONGOING LETTER-WRITING PROJECT!
A rush of these have come in, and I’m digging in, I’ll get to yours, promise. Stop being so thoughtful and thus requiring me to take my time to respond!
Will Leitch
P.O. Box 48
Athens GA 30603
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO
“Wise Up,” Aimee Mann. Magnolia is pretty freaking far from being Paul Thomas Anderson movie, but I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t still think about it all the time.
They’re looking into your soul.
Have a great weekend, everyone.
Best,
Will