HBO Does John Adams

I can never decide whether to cringe or rejoice when I hear that there is going to be a television show or movie focusing on early America. I enjoy getting the sense of being there through the set and costume, but unfortunately, those are often the most accurate parts. HBO's mini-series John Adams is a bit better than most Hollywood attempts at history, but it falls into the usual trap of oversimplifying events and glorifying the main character.

Let's face it, John Adams wasn't easy to like in his own time; he referred to himself as obnoxious. But since HBO is basing the show on David McCollough's adoring bio of Adams, we have to like Adams at the expense of the other players. Worst perhaps in Jefferson--not surprising--who came off in Part 2 as a background player who just happened to write the Declaration of Independence because Adams told him to do it. The debates over declaring independence take up an entire 1 1/2 hour segment, but as another history blog notes, the common people and Thomas Paine's Common Sense are both left out.

The fun of the show, for me, is seeing the world of the late 18th century. They've shown Boston, Braintree (where the Adams' farm was located), Philadelphia, and Paris so far. I saw the episode set in Paris a few days before I saw the Fragonard room at the Frick Museum (you can actually tour it online), and I was struck by how the art and the salon world in France both have the same color palette and joie de vivre. It's hard to picture John Adams in a rococo world, but I'll give HBO credit for a clever scene depicting just that.

For more on the series' inaccuracies, check out this HNN piece or browse through the journals of the Continental Congress.

A Rhetorical Question

Audacity: n., boldness; fearless daring. This is what Barack Obama invoked in the title of his most recent book, The Audacity of Hope. He acknowledges here that his message of hope is not one that people will accept readily; it takes a sort of determination to go against the tedium of politics to accept his rhetoric, the title suggests. Some people I've talked to would agree--and they just don't feel quite daring enough.

The question to me is not just why they can't summon the audacity, but why we should need it in the first place. I'm not by any means a naive idealist; I'm probably more cynical than most people about politics and the failures of our government. But when a leader takes hold of the zeitgeist of the time and speaks in a way that is compelling, intelligent, even emotionally stirring, this seems to me to be exactly what we ought to embrace.

This, in great part, is what we admire about our greatest leaders, from George Washington to Martin Luther King, Jr. Let me be clear: I am not comparing his leadership abilities (as yet untested) with these leaders', but his rhetoric resonates with the sounds of his predecessors. He has harnessed MLK's intonation, and he speaks of unity, the urgency of action, and the future in ways that great leaders have in the past. Here, for instance, is a bit of Jefferson's first inaugural address:

"Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things."

and FDR's third inaugural in 1941:
"In the face of great perils never before encountered, our strong purpose is to protect and to perpetuate the integrity of democracy. For this we muster the spirit of America, and the faith of America. We do not retreat. We are not content to stand still. As Americans, we go forward, in the service of our country, by the will of God."

and MLK's I Have a Dream speech:
"We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy...

We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back."

How, then, are these words of Obama's so very different?
"We are the hope of the future; the answer to the cynics who tell us our house must stand divided; that we cannot come together; that we cannot remake this world as it should be.

Because we know what we have seen and what we believe - that what began as a whisper has now swelled to a chorus that cannot be ignored; that will not be deterred; that will ring out across this land as a hymn that will heal this nation, repair this world, and make this time different than all the rest - Yes. We. Can."

If we know these men made great leaders, that they acted according to the boldness of their words, than why do we assume Obama is all rhetoric? It's a rhetorical question--but one very much on my mind this election.

The Ever-Prescient Jefferson

As an article in this month's issue of the online history journal Common-place explains, good old TJ foresaw the danger of burgeoning private fortunes. In "Private Wealth, Public Influence:
The Jeffersonian tradition and American philanthropy," the author explains that Jefferson believed in breaking up private fortunes to insure that America didn't grow its own aristocracy. It was a radical idea both then and now. But it hadn't occurred to me before that this could extend to philanthropic foundations.

The author of the piece, Johann Neem, argues that foundations like Bill Gates'—no matter how noble its aims—perhaps wield too much power because of the massive amounts of money they control. Is this money even rightly theirs? Neem tells the story of a populist Democrat in the early 20th century who argued that foundations let the wealthy maintain control of huge sums of money for nebulous purposes. This populist contended that John D. Rockefeller's fortune came from "the exploitation of American workers" and truly belongs "to the American people."

It's quite reminiscent of the recent WaPo article about Catherine Reynolds, who made a fortune off of student loans through a "non-profit" organization. While it's laudable that she gives large sums of money to charity, why not give some money back to the students? As things stand now, the money she made off of students in debt is funding an enormous addition to the Kennedy Center.

Tuition and fees for next year at many private schools will top $35,000, and while as a PhD student I won't be paying that, many other students will. Paying for a college education has become a huge concern for many American families, but I haven't noticed many private foundations directing their attention at this problem. That's because, as Jefferson realized, such foundations aren't accountable to the public. The government--to some extent, although not much lately--is the entity accountable. Maybe that's where the money should be.

I'm not sure how Jefferson intended to break up private fortunes, but I agree with Neem's suggestion that higher taxes on the wealthy are a good start. Since that's not on the horizon, hopefully Congress's latest bill to help out will survive.