A chronic(le) expounder of "simpleminded" politics tells it like it is not!
Charles McCabe is a newspaper Journalist who writes a dally column for the San Francisco Chronicle. He is widely regarded around these parts as a liquor drinking philosopher; a commentator upon man’s many foibles, his failures and his successes, but an Omar Khayyam he is not. A wiseacre yes, and when in his cups a savant of no mean regard.
Now Mr. McCabe Is one of those high-wire journalists, who is able — so it would seem — to oscillate effortlessly from problem to problem, subject to subject, without so much as even a casual glance at the danger below. Or even regard for the accuracy of his undoubted mental gymnastics. He is, to boot, a latter day Cassandra. A self-proclaimed Humanist, a Liberal-Anarchist, going along with J. S. Mill who “argues not only for political freedom but social freedom, not only against the tyranny of the majority but also against the social tyranny of prevailing conventions and opinions.” So he says.
So last Monday’s (1/27/75) sermon to the “laity” (McCabe’s term) was no less tendentious than most if not all of Mr. McCabe’s intellectual carousing.
Friendship vs. Politics
It seems that Mr. Alistair Cooke, who is well known on both sides of the Atlantic (whereas Mr. McCabe only this side) in a recent talk to the BBC made this observation : “To be close only to people who share your own political views and prejudices is not only a terrible restriction on the world of friendship, but is a denial of life itself, since life itself is a good deal larger and richer and more complicated than politics.”
Now no one but a myopic wombat would deny that life without friendship would indeed be a very sad mess of pottage. But for Alistair Cooke to claim that life as we now experience it is larger than politics and more complicated to boot, is a proposition of another vintage.
However, as I have said before, Mr. McCabe is no slouch, and if the wind is in the right direction, he will dribble niftily along any old intellectual tightrope, not only not caring whether it sags in the middle — and this one certainly does — but proclaiming his unqualified support with Alistair Cooke’s statement with the following unctuous observation: “A well-put statement as nearly all of Mr. Cooke's are, and one very near to my heart, as nearly all of Mr. Cooke’s sentiments are.”
Mr. McCabe then goes on to compound Mr. Cooke's naivete with the sure-fire prerogative of the ignorant by proclaiming “My politics are, in fact, rather simpleminded. I’m against all well-intentioned kindnesses to others, apart from the essential kindness of letting them do their own thing within the framework of laws against hurting, killing and stealing.’’ (Wanna bet!)
In support for this muddled-thinking, Mr. McCabe (who is also a name-dropper) drags in poor old Mrs. Patrick Campbell’s trite remark about homosexuals “It doesn’t matter what you do in the bedroom as long as you don’t do it in the street and frighten the horses.’’ The irrelevance of this quote by Mr. McCabe, in relation to the substance of his article, would make Mrs. Campbell and the horses whinny in their graves.
The milk and water approach to human affairs as evinced by Mr. McCabe is touching, and no doubt would get a lot of votes from most sections of a befuddled populace! it is therefore pertinent to ask of Mr. McCabe whether his sentimental approach to violence, killing and stealing would motivate an advocacy against the laws in favour of the appropriation by the capitalist class of the surplus wealth produced by the working class, because it is this particular situation that at base causes the hurting, killing and stealing which Mr. McCabe tells us he finds so objectionable. And also if Mr. McCabe felt so disposed to crusade against capitalism would the columns of the San Francisco Chronicle still be available to him?
Politics Bigger Than He Thinks
Mr. McCabe expresses the view in his column that “politics is but a part of the full life and not so damned big part at that.” Is that so? Let him read the San Francisco Chronicle, for which he writes, and see how much space is allocated to that which is supposed to constitute the full life! Unless he is referring, of course, to the Society Columns.
The blood and guts of the situation is that our whole existence today is dominated by economics, and politics is the stock in trade, the tools we use to deal with the problems spawned from a particular economic predicament—that of poverty amidst plenty.
Capitalism is the society that has long since overcome all of the main problems of production to the extent that all human life could adequately be sustained: its failure, however, lies in its inability to distribute these goods and services which it so obviously hasn’t the power to do. Distribution in capitalist society demands the repository of the market place and the possession of money. The latter presupposes the former.
With the exception of the capitalist class most of us are quarantined to live out our lives on a wage packet. Capitalism’s problem is to dispose of the surplus wealth produced by the working class, for which they do not get paid. If society were able to have free access to this surplus wealth, not only would we then be able to live the full life, but It would mean the end of politics as well.
Politics, political activity, is that function that lays claims to the various opposing interests between (1) rival sections of the capitalist class, primarily over the vexing question of taxation — who shall pay what to whom and how much, and (2) between rival national capitalists the world over. Over the question of markets; cheap or cheaper sources of raw materials; trade routes and spheres for investment; warfare, internecine warfare, is the scenario which politics has to deal with and in the process whole countries are decimated, and many, many more live in constant deprivation. If after this “ball game” there is anything left over to live the “full life” perhaps Mr. Alistair Cooke would care to comment on it, and Mr. Charles McCabe would care to drool about it.
Harry Hamme
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