“I considered it elder abuse. She put him through the paces, not only before the debate, but after. She should have gotten him out of there immediately.” — Sally Quinn on Jill Biden and the debate

 

Today’s guest is amongst America’s most verbal octogenarians. No, not you-know-who. Sally Quinn [https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Silent-Retreat/Sally-Quinn/9781668154748] is the illustrious Washington DC hostess, writer and commentator. The almost 85-year-old does improv comedy every Sunday, ballroom dancing every week and Zen Buddhist meditation every Monday night. Her novel, Silent Retreat [https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Silent-Retreat/Sally-Quinn/9781668154748], is now out in paperback. And she’s working on her memoir, tentatively entitled Never Invite Sally Quinn.

 

Certainly Jill Biden won’t be inviting Sally Quinn any time soon to one of her tête-à-têtes. Quinn’s account of what went wrong with the Biden presidency is sharply personal. Her late husband, legendary Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee, had dementia. She watched his cognitive decline from inside, and the parallels with what she observed in Biden were, she tells me, too close for comfort. Jill Biden’s decision to keep Joe running after the debate, when she privately suspected he’d suffered a stroke, was, in Quinn’s word, “elder abuse.”

 

Silent Retreat, set at a monastery in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, is about the sexiness of silence. A prize-winning reporter and the venerable Archbishop of Dublin fall in love in enforced silence. Anything but elder abuse. But autobiographical? Probably not. As Ben Bradlee used to tease her over breakfast, it’s always been hard for not-silent-Sally to keep her mouth shut.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       The Army Brat Who Became Washington’s Most Powerful Hostess: Quinn grew up as an army brat, moving from posting to posting with her military father. She arrived in Washington after college, did a stint as social secretary to the Algerian ambassador, and was then hired by Ben Bradlee to write for the Washington Post’s new Style section — the first style section in the history of American journalism. She and Bradlee eventually married. Their home in Georgetown became the hub of Washington’s social and political life for decades. She describes herself not as a powerhouse but as someone who “really lucked out.” An army brat who knew how to work a room.

 

•       Gerontocracy Is Real — But People Who Keep Going Are Different: Quinn agrees with Samuel Moyn that American gerontocracy is a genuine problem: people who lose their cognitive sharpness should not be running organizations or countries, and the tragedy is that no one can know in advance who will lose it and who won’t. But she draws a distinction: the problem is not old people, it’s old people who have stopped growing. She surrounds herself with younger people, particularly younger journalists, because of their energy, idealism, and optimism. She is still working full time. The issue is not age. It’s vitality.

 

•       Biden and Jill: Elder Abuse: Quinn’s account of the Biden presidency is the most personal Andrew has heard. Her husband Ben Bradlee had dementia. She knows the signs. She watched Biden lose it, got a knot in her stomach every time he spoke publicly. The debate was her worst nightmare. Everyone in the White House knew what was happening and wasn’t telling the truth. And Jill Biden — who now admits she thought he had had a stroke after the debate — raised his arm in a victory salute the next day and took him off to campaign in North Carolina. Quinn’s verdict: “I considered it elder abuse.”

 

•       Silent Retreat: A New Yorker Writer and an Archbishop Fall in Love in Enforced Silence: The

Never Invite Sally Quinn: The Illustrious Washington Hostess on Ben Bradlee, Jill Biden and the Sexiness of Silence

“Age is the modality in which class is lived in America today.” — Samuel Moyn

 

Yesterday we had 91-year-old Mordecai Kurz on the show. Tomorrow, it will be 84-year-old Sally Quinn. But today’s guest, the Yale legal historian Samuel Moyn [https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374607647/gerontocracyinamerica/], has a bit of a problem with old people. His new book, Gerontocracy in America [https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374607647/gerontocracyinamerica/], argues that the old folks are hoarding power and wealth in America. For Moyn, Dylan’s Sixties anthem of “Forever Young” has soured into today’s reality of “Forever Old.”

 

In some ways, it’s hard to argue with Moyn’s thesis. Donald Trump is the oldest elected US president in history. Congress has been ageing for decades — and several Democratic members died in the run-up to the One Big Beautiful Bill vote, thereby facilitating its passage. The progressive heroine Ruth Bader Ginsburg stayed on the Supreme Court through a pancreatic cancer diagnosis and died in office, handing the right a supermajority and the end of abortion rights. Clarence Thomas, the RBG of nutcase conservatism, is on track to become the longest-serving Supreme Court justice in US history. And then there’s that alte kaker Joe Biden, former dodder-in-chief, the only pol who gives Trump a youthful glow. Even Bob Dylan — who I saw in all his morbid brilliance in Berkeley last week (“but me, I’m still on the road”) — just celebrated his 85th birthday. Forever old, America. Happy 250th.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       What Is Gerontocracy? Not a Problem With Old People: Moyn is careful to distinguish gerontocracy from old people. He is in his mid-fifties and can’t attack old people generally. His target is the system: the structural overrepresentation of old people in power, and the structural disadvantaging of the young that results. Old people can be great. Some are, some aren’t — just like everyone else. The problem is that when we defer to old people automatically — as a system rather than as a judgement about individuals — we replicate their mistakes alongside their wisdom. And cognitive decline is real, as Biden proved. “Age is the modality in which class is lived in America today,” Moyn writes, riffing on Stuart Hall’s formulation about race.

 

•       The Congress, the Courts, and the Deaths That Passed the Bill: Trump is the oldest elected US president in history — and if JD Vance were to succeed him, Vance would be the youngest president since Teddy Roosevelt. But Moyn’s focus goes beyond the presidency. Congress has aged dramatically: the average senator and representative are significantly older than at any point in US history, and there is now only one member of Congress in their thirties. Several Democratic members of the House died in the months before the One Big Beautiful Bill vote, facilitating its passage. The gerontocracy is quite literally voting itself into power through death.

 

•       The RBG Problem: Selfishness and the Supreme Court: Moyn’s account of Ruth Bader Ginsburg is unsparing. She had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer — one of the deadliest — and allegedly survived it. She had become a progressive icon, “Notorious RBG.” But she chose to stay on the court rather than retire under Obama, and she died in office in 2020, allowing Trump to appoint Amy Coney Barrett and hand the right a supermajority that ended abortion rights. Moyn’s verdict: she was selfish. He is also careful to note that the system should not depend on individual virtue — there will always be selfish people. The system must be reformed so that selfish choices are no longer possible.

 

•       The Framers Designed Gerontocracy Into the Constitution: One of Moyn’s most striking historical a

Gerontocracy in America: Samuel Moyn on How the Old Are Hoarding Power and Wealth

“Between 1980 and 2019, the billionaires gained $25 trillion. By today it’s probably $35 trillion. The question is who will pay for reform? You go where the money is.” — Mordecai Kurz

 

Keynes observed that in the long run, we are all dead. The nonagenarian Stanford economist Mordecai Kurz [https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262053525/private-power-and-democracys-decline/] agrees. Which is why he has no patience for the tech utopians’ promise of abundance for all of us in the long run. And his new book, Private Power and Democracy’s Decline: How to Make Capitalism Support Democracy [https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262053525/private-power-and-democracys-decline/], is amongst the most urgent cases yet made for a fundamental reform of American capitalism.

 

Kurz compares our billionaire-infested times with the Gilded Age of the late 19th century, which eventually ended with sharp progressive reform. We are now in a second Gilded Age, he argues. Between 1980 and 2019, the top billionaires gained $25 trillion. By today, he estimates it’s $35 trillion. Meanwhile, workers without college education gained essentially nothing in income between 1980 and 2010. The result is both Trumpism and the world’s first trillionaire.

 

Kurz lays out a three-fronted reform strategy. First, reduce market power through patent and antitrust reform. Second, redistribute the gains from technology through a 65% top marginal income tax rate and a 45% corporate rate. Third, guarantee the livelihood of every worker displaced by policy-supported technological change with retraining, full wage support, tuition, healthcare, and even relocation.

 

Wouldn’t the billionaires simply leave? The spirited Kurz, who has taught economics at Stanford for sixty years, isn’t worried. “Others will come instead of them,” he says. And in response to Sam Altman’s argument that AI will free humanity from labour, Mordecai Kurz retorts with Keynes’s remark about death in the long run. And this particular long run, he says, could be many millennia.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       The Second Gilded Age: Same Dynamic, Different Technology: Kurz’s central historical argument: the first Gilded Age — 1864 to 1914 — produced extreme inequality, rising economic monopolists who became centres of political power, and democratic decline. It ended with progressive reform. The second Gilded Age, beginning in 1980, follows the same logic: technology used as a weapon of market power, market power converting into political power, political power undermining democratic institutions. The difference is scale and speed. Between 1980 and 2019, the top billionaires accumulated $25 trillion. By 2026, Kurz estimates $35 trillion. The reform that ended the first Gilded Age took fifty years. He is not sure we have that long.

 

•       The Three-Pronged Reform: Market Power, Distribution, Livelihoods: Kurz’s proposed reform has three components. First: reduce market power through patent reform, antitrust reform, and reform of acquisition law — the legal structures that allow technology firms to entrench monopoly positions. Second: redistribute the gains from technology through a 65% top marginal income tax rate, a compulsory minimum 15% tax on incomes above $400,000, and a 45% corporate tax rate. Third: guarantee the livelihood of every worker displaced by policy-supported technological change — retraining, full wage support, tuition for children, healthcare, and relocation assistance.

 

•       The 1980 Mistake: Where It All Went Wrong: Kurz is precise about the origin of the problem: 1980. The turn to unregulated free-market capitalism under Reagan, combined with the information technology revolution, created what he calls a techno-winner-takes-all economy. Workers without college education gained essent

The Trouble with Trillionaires: Mordecai Kurz on Capitalism, Democracy, and the Second Gilded Age

“Second wave feminism taught women that femininity was weak, masculinity was toxic, marriage was oppressive, the home was a prison, and children are a burden.” — Delano Squires

 

Sixty years ago, Daniel Patrick Moynihan published The Negro Family: The Case for National Action, which was immediately attacked by the left as victim-blaming and by the right as an admission of state responsibility. In 1965, 25% of black children were born to unmarried parents. Today the figure is 70%. So is the black American family vanishing? Delano Squires [https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/763688/the-vanishing-black-family-by-delano-squires/] — director of the Richard and Helen DeVos Center for Human Flourishing at the Heritage Foundation — certainly thinks so. In his controversial new book, The Vanishing Black Family [https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/763688/the-vanishing-black-family-by-delano-squires/], Squires argues that “welfare” and “feminism” have made black marriage optional and children vulnerable.

 

Squires identifies what he calls the “sinister six” forces that have dismantled the black family: slavery’s legacy, the welfare state, second wave feminism, popular culture, the failure of the black church, and the indifference of black progressive leadership. Perhaps his most controversial claim is that the second wave feminism of Betty Friedan did specific damage in black communities by weakening the social norms that survived slavery and Jim Crow.

 

His prescription is a Heritage Foundation-style free market revolution led by black institutions rather than by Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s federal government. The church, HBCUs and black media should all embrace education, work, marriage and family. Give her a ring before she gives you a baby, Squires advises young black men. But leave Betty Friedan literature off the wedding gift list.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       From 25% to 70%: The Statistics Behind the Book: In 1965, when Moynihan wrote his report, 25% of black children were born to unmarried parents — a figure Moynihan regarded as a national crisis requiring urgent political response. The national average was 7%. Today, 70% of black children are born to unmarried parents. The national average has risen to 40%. Squires’ argument: the gap has widened, the scale has changed, and the Moynihan consensus — that this is a serious problem requiring serious attention — has been largely abandoned by black progressive leadership. Only 33% of black adults are married, compared to 48% of Hispanics, 57% of whites, and 63% of Asians.

 

•       The Second Wave Feminism Argument: Squires’ Most Contested Claim: Squires devotes an entire chapter to second wave feminism and its specific damage in black communities. His top-line claim: that second wave feminism — from Betty Friedan’s characterisation of the suburban home as a “comfortable concentration camp”, to Gloria Steinem’s description of married women as “hostesses” — taught women that femininity was weak, masculinity was toxic, marriage was oppressive, the home was a prison, and children a burden. He is careful to distinguish this from the franchise and access to credit. He argues this ideological framework did particular damage in communities where family structures had already been weakened by slavery and segregation.

 

•       The Success Sequence: Finish School, Get a Job, Get Married, Then Have Children: Squires’ prescribed alternative to the cultural norms he critiques: the “success sequence,” a term drawn from social science research. If you finish high school, get a job, get married, and then have children — in that order — your chances of living in poverty are in the single digits, approximately 3%. His slogan: give her a ring before she gives you a baby. He advocates

The Vanishing Black Family: Delano Squires on Marriage, Moynihan, and the Crisis in Black America

“As early as 1805, you had orators getting up there — barely twenty years after American independence was recognised by Great Britain — saying: the Republic is over. We’ve had it. So there is a tradition of calling it the end times.” — Nathan Perl-Rosenthal

 

It’s less than three weeks until America’s big birthday bash. But what exactly will be celebrated this 250th Independence Day? In The Long Revolution: Creating a United States After 1776 [https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/nathan-perl-rosenthal/the-long-revolution/9781541606630/?lens=basic-books], the historian Nathan Perl-Rosenthal [https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/nathan-perl-rosenthal/the-long-revolution/9781541606630/?lens=basic-books] read some 2,500 July 4 orations delivered in the hundred years after independence. And what he found is that most Americans didn’t believe that the revolution was really over.

 

Orators often unfavourably compared the American Revolution to the French, Spanish American, and European revolutions of 1830 and 1848. They argued bitterly about slavery. As late as the 1870s, leading orators were insisting that the revolution was unfinished because the truths of the Declaration of Independence had not yet been fully worked out.

 

Fast forward to 2026 and Perl-Rosenthal suggests a return to the kind of sustained public dialogue that the oratorical tradition once represented. So put down your smartphones on July 4 and tell the world where America currently is and where it should go. The act of oration, Perl-Rosenthal suggests, is not just a civic act, but essential to the country’s long revolutionary tradition. So happy birthday America. And many many more.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       100,000 Orations: The Archive Nobody Knew About: In the first century after independence, an estimated 100,000 July 4 orations were delivered across the United States — roughly a thousand towns and villages, each holding an annual address for a hundred years. Of those, 2,500 survive in published form as pamphlets, now collected in a digital database at fourthofjulyorations.org. These are not peripheral documents. They were delivered by the most prominent public figures of their day — lawyers, clergymen, politicians — before large audiences. They are among the richest sources we have for what ordinary Americans actually thought about their revolution and their republic.

 

•       The Revolution Was Ongoing: Most Orators Believed This Well Into the 1870s: The single most striking finding of Perl-Rosenthal’s research: most orators, deep into the nineteenth century, did not regard the revolution as a completed historical event. They saw themselves not as commemorating it but as participating in it. As late as the 1870s, leading orators were insisting the revolution remained unfinished. One orator in Boston in 1870, in a debate about immigration policy and Chinese exclusion, argued that the revolution could not be over because the inalienable rights proclaimed in the Declaration had not yet been universally extended. The parallel to the immigration debates of 2026 is, Perl-Rosenthal suggests, striking.

 

•       The Orations Were Critical, Not Triumphalist: Perl-Rosenthal went into the archive expecting, as he puts it, “rah America.” He found something quite different. Many orators compared the American Revolution unfavourably to other revolutions: to the French in the 1790s, to Spanish American revolutions in the 1810s and 1820s, to the European revolutions of 1830 and 1848. The comparisons often did not flatter America. Wealthy Bostonians giving the prestigious Boston oration — one of the oldest and most prominent in the country — would argue explicitly that the founders had failed to deal with slavery. The critical tradition was mainstream, not margina

A Century of Orations: Nathan Perl-Rosenthal Listens to 2,500 Voices of the American Revolution

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars,” Oscar Wilde wrote in his 1892 play Lady Windermere’s Fan. This week, Elon Musk managed — not for the first time — to be simultaneously in the stars and the gutter. SpaceX’s IPO valued his rocket company at $2 trillion — making Musk, officially, a trillionaire, the richest person in the world by a very large margin. The space Musk — the defiant genius who bet everything on a reusable rocket and the promise of a cosmic monopoly — is astonishing. The Wall Street Journal called the IPO a Goldilocks debut with Musk starring as the three bears.

 

But there is another Musk — the one in the gutter, promoting white nationalist violence from his platform on X. This week Musk not only stoked the anti-immigrant riots in Belfast but reiterated his support for the English white supremacist gangster Tommy Robinson.

 

So is this another Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 novella? Keith Teare [https://thatwa.st/], publisher of That Was the Week [https://thatwa.st/], certainly thinks so. While Keith is in awe of Musk’s entrepreneurial genius at SpaceX, he seems to excuse Musk’s support for Tommy Robinson’s paramilitarism. “I’m not even sure I like him,” Keith confesses in his musings on “civilisation.” Nor do the rest of us.

 

But I wonder if this good/bad Elon narrative is too convenient. There is an uncomfortable symbiosis between Musk’s journey to SpaceX and to white nationalist violence. For all the utopian cornucopia of space, our earthly reality is one of scarce land and fear of immigrants — Trump, Tommy Robinson, and this weekend’s Swiss referendum on capping its population at 10 million. For all the Muskian promise of cosmic abundance, today’s Muskian politics is paranoid and exclusionary. So maybe it’s not just Elon. Everyone these days is simultaneously in the gutter and looking up at the stars.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       SpaceX: From El Segundo Warehouse to $2 Trillion Juggernaut: SpaceX is 25 years old. It started in a warehouse near Los Angeles, in an area with a concentration of rocket scientists. Musk bet almost all of his Tesla gains on the idea of a reusable rocket — and nearly lost everything. Then a rocket worked. Since then: iterative improvement, the rockets getting bigger and more reliable, a virtual global monopoly on delivering payloads to space, Starlink (satellite internet that actually works at gigabit speeds), and NASA subcontracting its launches. Now: $2 trillion at IPO, Musk a trillionaire. Wall-to-wall applause from the startup world. Wall-to-wall pylon on social media. Both simultaneously true.

 

•       The Grimace vs the Applause: Andrew vs Keith’s Media Diet: Keith says most commentators are grimacing at the valuation and Musk’s net worth. Andrew says the serious press — the Wall Street Journal, even the New York Times — is largely applauding. The exchange reveals the media bifurcation: mainstream outlets cover the achievement; social media — X, Facebook, LinkedIn — is wall-to-wall outrage about a trillionaire in a world of growing inequality. Keith’s verdict on Musk: he doesn’t care whether people like him. Neither, in Keith’s view, should we. You judge him not on likability but on criteria: civilization or net worth. Different criteria, different judgment.

 

•       California and Europe: The Failure of Government: Fareed Zakaria in the Washington Post: California is a case study in failed government. Andrew had Jonathan Weber on the show this week — City on the Edge, the historic dysfunctionality of San Francisco city government. Fukuyama is trying to be optimistic about Europe’s liberal future. Keith’s counter: Fukuyama ignores the structural problem — top-he

Up to the Stars and Down into the Gutter: Elon Musk's Ascent/Descent to SpaceX and White Nationalist Violence

“Power trumps money fundamentally. And I think we’ve seen the extent to which these companies are very subservient to the US government. Because the US government can break them in an instant.” — Jack Watling on whether Anthropic and OpenAI can become geopolitical players

 

In Cormac McCarthy’s 2005 novel No Country for Old Men, an ageing Texas sheriff finds himself outmatched by a killer operating by a logic the old rules can’t contain. It’s the story of a man shaped by one world, and then trying to operate in an entirely different system.

 

That’s also the situation facing many statesmen today who are having to operate in an international system where the old rules no longer apply. The British military strategist Jack Watling [https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/jack-watling/statecraft/9781035059034] argues in his new book Statecraft: The New Rules of Power in a Divided World [https://www.panmacmillan.com/authors/jack-watling/statecraft/9781035059034] that we have moved from a monopolar world to one of intensely multipolar competition where adversaries can subvert all the premises of another state’s strategy.

 

These disruptive rules of the 21st century multipolar international system aren’t entirely new. There are, for example, eerie similarities with the chaotically multipolar system that led to the First World War. But they are new to the leaders who have to apply them. So, for example, they are having to deal with Vladimir Putin who is locked into an eighth-century Orthodox Holy Russian Empire fantasy. Or with the impulsive and disruptive Donald Trump whose only goal, it sometimes seems, is to subvert all the rules of the old world. These are Jack Watling’s new rules of power in a divided world. New statecraft for old men. Or maybe old statecraft for new men.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       The Rules Are New to the Leaders, Not the World: Watling’s thesis: many of the principles in his book are old, as a historian he knows that. But they are new to the current crop of political leaders because they were formed in a monopolar world where America had primacy, crises were resolved, and the status quo was restored. We are now in a period of intense interstate competition where changes are permanent — the interventions that are being made fundamentally shift the trend. That does require a new way of thinking. The tragedy is that the leaders who most need to think in new ways — Putin and Trump in particular — are the least capable of it.

 

•       Putin vs Trump: Two Different Kinds of Fallibility: Putin has locked himself into a rubric of looking at the world through the lens of the Orthodox Holy Russian Empire — a framework that doesn’t align with how anyone else reads the map. He’s not a pragmatic dealmaker; when you get him to the table, as Trump found in Alaska, he starts referring back to the eighth century. Trump is very different: much less cautious, much more impulsive, skilled at making the conversation happen on his terms by disrupting everything around him. The problem with impulsive rather than deliberate is that he has no clear idea of where he wants to get to. Both fallible. Neither predictable.

 

•       The WWI Parallel: Over By Christmas: Watling’s most sobering analogy: when we look at 1914, nobody thought it would become what it became. The assumption was over by Christmas. It grew out of any capacity to control it. Today, the rules between the great powers don’t reflect where power actually sits. The capacity for a conflagration — Taiwan being the obvious tipping point — to suddenly trigger a series of escalations around the world is very real. We have to be cognisant that risk is latent in the system. The outcome we most wish to avoid is also the most mutually calamitous one. That’s not a guarantee

No Statecraft for Old Men: Jack Watling on the New Rules of Power in a Chaotic World

“That’s not the America that I believed in and that I chose to merge my fate with.” — David Frum on Trump’s predatory foreign policy

 

What does it mean to be an American? It’s a slippery question — especially for those of us born outside the United States. Take, for example, David Frum [https://www.theatlantic.com/author/david-frum/], the Toronto-born writer and Presidential speechwriter who coined the phrase “Axis of Evil” in 2002. Back then, it included Iran, Iraq and North Korea. Today, one wonders if Frum, who has written two powerful jeremiads about Donald Trump, would include what he calls this "fascoid" in this exclusive club.

 

Frum still lives part of the year on Loyalist Parkway in Ontario — a road honouring British troops fleeing the American Revolution. From his deck, what remains of the Canadian in Frum gazes across Lake Ontario at the American shore. The lights on the other side of the lake, he admits, are more glittering. But unlike Nick Carraway in his favourite American novel The Great Gatsby, David Frum isn’t seduced by all that glitters. Carraway, Frum says, is an unreliable narrator impressed by the gangster glamour of Jay Gatsby. But Gatsby, like Donald Trump, Frum reminds us, is a criminal. And Gatsby, perhaps also like Trump, is at least part of the answer of what it means to be an American.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       Loyalist Parkway: Canada as the Product of the American Revolution: Frum spends part of the year on Loyalist Parkway in Ontario — a road named for the refugees who fled the American Revolution northward and settled across Lake Ontario. Canada, in his telling, is the product of what he calls the American civil war that nobody calls that: the revolution of 1776. It was, for the Loyalists, a shattering loss. From his house, he looks across the lake at the American shore. There is something brighter there, more glittering, more charged. That particular Canadian vantage point — attracted to and slightly outside of America — is where Frum and Zakaria both live.

 

•       Predatory America: Trump vs the American Tradition: America is currently at war with Iran. Trump’s stated aim, in Frum’s analysis, is purely predatory — to take Iran’s oil, enrich the United States by impoverishing Iranians, plunder like a bandit. He compares this to Trump’s Venezuela policy. Frum’s verdict: that is a president against the American tradition. George W. Bush — whatever the failures of the Iraq war — went to Iraq to overthrow a dictatorship and bring a better future. He went in the name of American ideals. Trump invokes no ideals. He just wants the oil.

 

•       The Axis of Evil Defence: Andrew raises the uncomfortable parallel: Frum coined “axis of evil,” worked for Bush, helped set the fuse for the wars that led, arguably, to the current moment. Frum’s defence is structural. The Iraq war of 2003 was the continuation of a conflict that began when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in 1990. Bill Clinton nearly returned to war with Iraq in 1994 and struck it in 1998, for the same reason: Iraq’s violation of the 1991 armistice. Bush was following that path. He went to war in the name of ideals. He didn’t go to steal Iraq’s oil. That is the American tradition, even in failure.

 

•       Nick Carraway Is an Unreliable Narrator: The conversation’s most surprising section: Frum on The Great Gatsby. Nick Carraway, Frum argues, is not a reliable guide to Gatsby’s moral complexity. He is a narrator seduced by gangster glamour — who constructs moral explanations for an attraction he knows he shouldn’t feel. The tell: Nick is horrified by the glamour one night, then thrilled the next morning to fly in Gatsby’s private seaplane. Gatsby is a criminal. And Gatsby is, for Fitzgerald, a symbol of America: a self-inven

The David Frum Show: Frum on Gatsby, Trump the Fascoid and What It Means to Be an American

“The same creative and political forces that gave rise to [San Francisco’s] boom nearly engineered its collapse.” — Jonathan Weber

 

In Hitchcock’s Vertigo, the quintessential San Francisco movie, the villain points to an old painting of the city and tells Jimmy Stewart that San Francisco has changed. The real city has been lost, he says. Somebody has stolen San Francisco’s soul.

 

The veteran tech journalist Jonathan Weber [https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/City-on-the-Edge/Jonathan-Weber/9781668074916] is the latest writer to search for that soul. In City on the Edge: Technology, Politics, and the Fight for the Soul of San Francisco [https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/City-on-the-Edge/Jonathan-Weber/9781668074916], Weber bemoans the disappearance of the real San Francisco — the city not just of the Beats and the Counterculture but also of ordinary teachers and policemen. We’ve had thirty years of boom, bust, and Big Tech. The ordinary folks of San Francisco have been replaced by a new class of tech bros.

 

In 1992, just 2% of San Franciscans worked in tech. By 2019 it was 35%. As a longtime San Franciscan, Weber had a front-row seat on the dot-com mania, the rise of social media, Uber and Airbnb, the pandemic’s great emptying of downtown, and now the AI boom driven by the San Francisco-based Anthropic and OpenAI. In City on the Edge, Weber argues that the same creative and political forces that gave rise to the boom — the counterculture’s anarchic spirit, the city’s love affair with eccentricity, the tech industry’s utopian self-belief — also engineered its near-collapse. Digital vertigo, so to speak. Once again somebody has stolen San Francisco’s soul.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       From 2% to 35%: The Numbers Behind the Transformation: In 1992, just 2% of San Francisco workers were in tech. By 2019 it was 35%. The book traces how this happened: a city economically troubled in the early 1990s, still reeling from AIDS and the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, with its manufacturing base gone and its corporate headquarters thinning out. Into this vacuum came a group of free-thinking technologists immersed in the city’s creative counterculture. They invented the contemporary internet. What followed was one of the most rapid urban transformations in American history.

 

•       The Cacophony Society and the Founding of Burning Man: Before the tech boom, San Francisco in the early 1990s had a remarkable underground culture. Weber writes about the Cacophony Society — the group of anarchic free spirits who effectively founded the Burning Man festival. The Cacophony Society emerged from the counterculture of the 1960s through various evolutions — Situationist pranks, urban exploration, radical creativity. Burning Man began as their annual trip to the Black Rock Desert. The spirit of that founding: go somewhere, build something, be someone different, leave no trace. That spirit was the soul of the city too.

 

•       The City of Nostalgia: Always Believing Yesterday Was Better: Weber takes his Vertigo reference seriously. San Francisco is structurally a city of nostalgia — people arrive with a fixed idea of what the city is, and it inevitably becomes something different. The gap between the idea and the reality generates permanent mourning. This is not unique to San Francisco — Trump has built a presidency on the idea that things were better in the 1950s — but it is intensified here by the height of the hopes people bring. The city means something bigger than itself. That is both its greatest asset and its permanent wound.

 

•       The AI Boom and the Coming IPO Earthquake: The current AI boom is, in Weber’s reading, likely to be the largest yet. OpenAI and Anthropic are both based in

Save San Francisco’s Soul: Jonathan Weber on Technology and Politics in the City By the Bay

“I never knew, and I was a bright kid. I didn’t know who the mayor of New York was, but I could tell you the names of all the mafia guys on the corner.” — Vincent Coppola

 

So we finally found a Coppola for the show. No, not Francis Ford. But somebody just as cool and even more authentic. The longtime Newsweek reporter Vincent Coppola [https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250904126/gowanuscrossing/] grew up in Brooklyn three subway stops from Manhattan, but never went there until he was a teenager, nor even visited Central Park until his twenties. Coppola’s version of Brooklyn, a teeming Italian ghetto squeezed between the banks of the polluted Gowanus Canal, no longer exists. Except in his exquisitely rendered new memoir, Gowanus Crossing: A Brooklyn Boyhood [https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250904126/gowanuscrossing/], which has the most delicious story about an Easter pie recipe you’ll ever read.

 

The Brooklyn of Vinnie’s childhood was intact, insular, cut off from everywhere more than three stops away. It had its own government — the Mafia; its own religion — the Catholic Church; its own poisoned geography — the Gowanus Canal. A world inside a world. He didn’t know who the mayor of New York was, but he knew the name of every wise guy on every street corner. To a kid, Gowanus was a magical place. The grown Vinnie (now called Vincent), having crossed his own Rubicon to attend Columbia journalism school, describes it as a “toxic snow globe.” Brooklyn über alles. Or, more authentically, al primo posto. Especially now, when only a real Coppola can resurrect it.

 

Five Takeaways

 

•       A Toxic Snow Globe: Cut Off Three Stops from Manhattan: Coppola grew up in an Italian enclave on the Gowanus Canal — a waterway that was, unbeknownst to its residents, one of the most polluted in America. The community was so insular that Coppola — a bright, bookish kid — never went to Manhattan until he was a teenager, never visited Central Park until he was in his twenties, though he was three subway stops away. He knew the names of all the Mafia guys on the corner. He did not know who the mayor of New York was. A toxic snow globe: its own rules, its own government, its own religion. Intact and entirely cut off from the rest of the world.

 

•       The Mafia as Shadow Government: The Mafia was not background colour in Coppola’s childhood. It was the actual government. Police from the 78th Precinct pulled up to the social club on Sundays; officers walked in and walked out with brown paper bags full of cash. Squad cars ferried a hitman — the bodyguard of Carmine Persico — as if they were taxis. This corrupted any childlike innocence about institutions. The stereotype of the nice policeman, the honest cop, the beloved priest: none of them applied. Because they were poor, nobody cared. Nobody cared about the canal being polluted until real estate people came in.

 

•       The Predatory Priest and the Code of Silence: A local priest molested altar boys for decades, including Coppola’s best friend. Nobody in the community knew. Coppola’s observation: if the Mafia had known, they would have killed that man. It would have been that simple. Two oppressive codes of silence — the Mafia’s omertà and the Church’s own silence — operated in parallel. One protected criminals who were also community pillars. The other protected a predator. The community was too poor, too preoccupied, too isolated to see what was happening in front of their eyes.

 

•       The Easter Pie Recipe: A Story About Secrets and Mothers: One of the great set pieces of the book. Coppola was obsessed throughout his life with a specific Easter pastry — pizza di grano, a grain pie — that the old neighbourhood women made and would not share the recipe for. He w

Brooklyn Al Primo Posto: Vincent Coppola’s Magical Memoir of the Church, the Mafia and the Gowanus Canal

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