The Question Of Decency
Orwell, Trump, and the dangers of a profoundly indecent man in the presidency.
“Either we all live in a decent world, or nobody does,” wrote George Orwell. It’s from his essay, “The Lion and the Unicorn,” which was a prose-poem in some ways to the quiet virtues of his native England. It so affected me that I actually remember the moment I was reading it. I was a 13 year old on the top deck of a double-decker bus, the windows opaque with condensation, the air thick with cigarette smoke, the skies dark outside, rain falling steadily, making my way home from school.
Decency. This was Orwell’s deep theme — not exactly a moral virtue as Aristotle might conceive of it, but more of a cultural and ethical baseline. Orwell saw it primarily in ordinary people, especially the English, and rarer among intellectuals: “It is not easy to crash your way into the literary intelligentsia if you happen to be a decent human being.” He rebuked Jonathan Swift because he “couldn’t see what the simplest person sees, that life is worth living and human beings, even if they’re dirty and ridiculous, are mostly decent.”
Decency was something Orwell found among the men and women he fought alongside in the Spanish Civil War, among the homeless and poor in Wigan, and amid the flower-loving, stamp-collecting Englishmen in their home-castles: a recognition of our shared brokenness, which begets a very basic human compassion.
I love this passage, from his review of Gandhi’s autobiography:
The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the inevitable price of fastening one’s love upon other human individuals.
Sanctity is inhuman if it denies this (Hitchens’ point); ditto ideology. Decency is different and simple. It is loving your girlfriend, recoiling at a bully, defending a friend, telling a simple truth, respecting another’s dignity, doing an honest day’s work, speaking in plain English. You can see it depicted across Orwell’s sprawling oeuvre. Think of Boxer — the loyal, ingenuous cart-horse in Animal Farm, who trusts his superiors and works hard for the common good. Or Winston Smith’s simple, human, decent love for Julia: the love that Big Brother tortures him to betray.
Orwell saw decency in all mankind, but in one of his more Burkean moods, he recognized its particular cultural power in English civilization: its inherited pragmatism and sense of fairness, moderation and indifference to abstraction, dislike of war and cruelty, lack of asceticism, and an abundant sense of humor. Check out this fine, recent essay on the variations on his decency theme. Orwell was not glorifying his homeland, but appreciating it. He wasn’t a nationalist, but he was a patriot:
In England such concepts as justice, liberty and objective truth are still believed in. They may be illusions, but they are very powerful illusions. The belief in them influences conduct, national life is different because of them.
This is one reason why Britain did not succumb to fascism, when everyone else in Europe did. I’d argue further that the American experience is more influenced by this English sensibility than by any other from outside itself.
“Justice, liberty and objective truth” are still believed in here among ordinary Americans. There remains a common aversion to cruelty, unfairness, extremism, and lies in our everyday lives. It has its roots in Christianity — as liberalism does, as we are beginning to understand better. But it can endure without religion as part of a culture. And this commitment to decency is, as in England, an invisible but vital bulwark of democracy itself.
Democracy requires decency because it requires mutual respect: to defend others even as we disagree with them, to accept decisions others have made and elections we have lost, to distinguish between robust rhetoric and dehumanizing cruelty, to accept objective truth when it proves us wrong, to maintain a baseline of civility, to accept that we are all in this together. Politics is inextricable from culture, and a decent culture will sustain democracy while an indecent one will ultimately unravel it.
This is why I reject the shallow accusation that I have “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” It’s too glib, too dismissive. Yes, some have gone overboard in opposing this president; from Russiagate to the Bragg indictment, overreach has been real. I’ve acknowledged it. But the core impulse to reject Trump outright, to see him as uniquely hideous in American political history — as a national, collective disgrace — remains a vitally important one.
Because Donald Trump is the most indecent man, by far, to ever hold the presidency. He has openly mocked the disabled and the sick; he has reveled in stories of torture and murder; he has spent decades grabbing women “by the pussy” and bragged about it; he has derided prisoners of war … for being captured. He parlayed his own divorce into tabloid coverage and spoke publicly of wanting to date his own daughter. He began his political rise by pushing a Birther conspiracy he knew was a racist lie. We have become inured to his references to “shit-hole countries” and “the 51st state” and “Gavin Newscum,” to a misogyny that made Jeffrey Epstein a close friend, and to his gratuitous depiction of his predecessor as a mere “autopen” in the White House itself.
The indecency is in substance as well as style. It is one thing to be a realist in foreign policy, to accept the morally ambiguous in an immoral world; it is simply indecent to treat a country, Ukraine, invaded by another, Russia, as the actual aggressor and force it to accept a settlement on the invader’s terms. It is one thing to find and arrest illegal immigrants; it is indecent to mock and ridicule them, and send them with no due process to a foreign gulag where torture is routine. It is one thing to enforce immigration laws; it is another to use masked, anonymous men to do it. It is one thing to cut foreign aid; it is simply indecent to do so abruptly and irrationally so that tens of thousands of children will needlessly die.
We have slowly adjusted to this entirely new culture from the top, perhaps in the hope that it will somehow be sated soon — but then new indecencies happen. You think you’ve reached an all-time low, and then a trap door opens and we’re down in the sub-basement.
Just this week, Trump told a reporter asking a perfectly legitimate question: “Quiet. Quiet, Piggy” — pointing a finger inches from her face. In the Oval Office, he defended the Saudi prince’s orchestration of a brutal murder and dismembering of a WaPo journalist thus: “a lot of people didn’t like that gentleman that you’re talking about. Whether you like him or didn’t like him, things happen.” And he said of lawmakers who argued that his “war” in the Caribbean was illegal and the military should not obey illegal commands: “HANG THEM GEORGE WASHINGTON WOULD” and “SEDITIOUS BEHAVIOR punishable by DEATH.” (Washington, of course, was a stickler for the laws of war.)
Indecency is infectious when broadcast proudly at the very top in full view of everyone. You want to see the full context of antisemitism’s hideous return? Try focusing on a president who has relentlessly legitimized demonization and dehumanization of others for a decade. Nick Fuentes’ casual mention of his fandom for Stalin — and Tucker Carlson’s descent into Coughlin territory — are downstream of the soulless disinhibition pioneered by the president himself. In a culture where anything can be said, and decency is over, Jew hatred will rise to the surface like pus to a poultice. Recall that infamous footage of ordinary Germans humiliating Jews on the street. Indecency begets greater indecency. The Holocaust was just a matter of time.
I know what’s coming next, of course. This column will receive a chorus of accusations of “TDS” and how it’s deranged to oppose a president just because of his “mean tweets,” or to compare him with Hitler, like I just did. (I didn’t, of course; I just noted that indecency has a political history.) A blizzard of “whatabouts” will ensue; I’ll be ridiculed for still not “getting it.”
But I do get it. I understand why Trump was elected and re-elected. I accept the failings of the alternative. I support some of his policy changes. But what I want to say to those deriding me is: you still know I’m right. You know who this man is. The record is so clear, the core indecency so manifest and disgusting you cannot look away. This is not about “mean tweets.” It is about a brutal assault on common decency in a democracy. And common decency — as conservatives once knew, and Orwell grasped so keenly — matters. It really does.
Because Anglo-American democracy doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s embedded in an inherited wider culture of decency. Attack that decency in favor of insult and cruelty, and you are directly assaulting the foundations of democracy. That is why Trump remains an insidious threat to our way of life and to free people across the globe. Indecency is always an indispensable prologue to tyranny. It makes authoritarianism possible.
But what makes authoritarianism inevitable is public acquiescence to it.
I don’t think most Americans — including most Trump supporters — seriously want to embrace his vileness. They want to bracket it, say it’s no big deal, and point to what Trump does and not what he says. But what they need to understand is that tolerating indecency at such a high level, treating it as funny or a foible or as a way to “own the libs,” carries a logic that history warns directly against. In Orwell’s words, “Fascism has a great appeal for certain simple and decent people who genuinely want to see justice done to the working class ... and the most urgent need of the next few years is to capture those normal decent ones before Fascism plays its trump card.”
Don’t be like Boxer from Animal Farm, who kept his own decency but ignored the indecency of his leader — “Napoleon is always right” — and was finally transported not to a deserved retirement but to the knacker’s yard by the pigs he foolishly trusted. Don’t be like Squealer, who tried to explain away the brutal betrayal the next day: “The van had previously been the property of the knacker, and had been bought by the veterinary surgeon, who had not yet painted the old name out.” Don’t be Winston Smith in Nineteen Eighty-Four, forced in the end to embrace power over ordinary love: “Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia!”
Stay decent and see Trump for what he is. In Orwell’s words,
Either power politics must yield to common decency, or the world must go spiralling down into a nightmare of which we can already catch some glimpses.
Have you glimpsed enough yet?
(Note to readers: This is an excerpt of The Weekly Dish. If you’re already a paid subscriber, click here to read the full version. This week’s issue also includes: a chat with Mark Halperin on political history from Clinton to Trump 2.0; reader dissents and assents over my piece on the MAGA crackup; listener debate over recent pods; 10 notable quotes from the week in news, including two Yglesias Awards for MAGA figures; 20 pieces on Substack we recommend on a variety of topics; a creative music video for our Mental Health Break; a sunny beach window from Mexico; and, of course, the results of the View From Your Window contest — with a new challenge for the Thanksgiving break. Subscribe for the full Dish experience!)
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I’m returning to the Dish after a long absence. I still disagree with you on many levels, but I respect you. Unlike the remaining “conservatives” (there is nothing conservative about them), you are a serious person.
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New On The Dishcast: Mark Halperin
Mark used to be the political director for ABC News and a senior political analyst at TIME magazine. He co-managed Bloomberg Politics and co-authored Game Change and Double Down: Game Change 2012. Last year he launched the interactive live-video platform 2WAY, where he serves as editor-in-chief and hosts “The Morning Meeting” and “2WAY Tonight.” He also hosts “Next Up with Mark Halperin” on Megyn Kelly’s MK Media platform.
We chat about covering five presidents — from Clinton to Trump 2.0. Listen to the episode here. There you can find two clips of our convo — on the bygone era of bipartisanship, and Bill Clinton’s staggering talent. That link also takes you to listener comments on the pods with Fiona Hill, Charles Murray, Cory Clark, David Ignatius, and Karen Hao. Readers also discuss last week’s column on the MAGA crackup, “queer” dating culture, and much more. Check it out.
Browse the Dishcast archive for an episode you might enjoy. Coming up: Michel Paradis on Eisenhower, Shadi Hamid in defense of US interventionism, Simon Rogoff on the narcissism of pols, Jason Willick on trade and conservatism, Vivek Ramaswamy on the right, George Packer on his Orwell-inspired novel, and Arthur Brooks on the science of happiness. As always, please send any guest recs, dissents, and other comments to dish@andrewsullivan.com.
In The ‘Stacks
This is a feature in the paid version of the Dish spotlighting about 20 of our favorite pieces from other Substackers every week. This week’s selection covers subjects such as the state of the US economy, fractures in the two parties, and casual sex. A couple of examples are below, followed by two new substacks:
Pediatric gender medicine fails another big test. Unbelievable.
Jason Pargin throws cold water — i.e. physics — on the interstellar travel of sci-fi.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus is on Substack. All hail! Doubly so for Bruce Bartlett — a hero of mine from the Bush-Cheney years.
If you have any suggestions for “In the ‘Stacks,” especially ones from emerging writers, please let us know: dish@andrewsullivan.com. One reader recommends Power Metal — “about how the energy transition and digital technology are spawning environmental havoc, political upheaval, and murder — and how we can do better.”
The View From Your Window Contest
Where do you think it’s located? Email your guess to contest@andrewsullivan.com. Please put the location — city and/or state first, then country — in the subject line. Proximity counts if no one gets the exact spot. Bonus points for fun facts and stories. The deadline for entries is Wednesday at 11.59 pm (PST) — but you get an extra week this time. The winner gets the choice of a VFYW book or two annual Dish subscriptions. If you are not a subscriber, please indicate that status in your entry and we will give you a free month sub if we select your entry for the contest results (example here if you’re new to the VFYW). Contest archive is here. Happy sleuthing!
The results for this week’s window are coming in a separate email to paid subscribers later today. Here’s an entry from last week:
I’ve been in Raleigh on business, but not Durham, so no firsthand stories. But I just recently read about a trestle in Durham — located less than five minutes by car from our View — that locals refer to as the “Can Opener Bridge.” Apparently a vast number of truck drivers seem not to believe the posted clearance for this opening. Nor do they respond to the many posted warnings for over-height trucks to take an alternate route.
There’s a website devoted to showing video clips of the tops of trucks being sheared off as the drivers forge ahead. The clips are oddly satisfying. Here’s one:
I also enjoy the way this site describes the situation so succinctly: “The train trestle prominently featured in all the videos here has earned a reputation for its unrelenting enforcement of the laws of physics.” These days it’s comforting to know that at least some laws are still being enforced!
Durham is also home to the Bulls baseball team, which got a lot of contest coverage last week. For example:
I can’t wait to read all the comments that will inevitably come about Bull Durham. It’s one of my favorite movies! My favorite scene: “Candlesticks always make a nice gift.”
My second favorite scene: “That ball got outta here in a hurry.”
From our super-sleuth in Chicagoland:
The old Durham Athletic Park still stands, but it became a victim of Bull Durham’s success, as a renaissance in the popularity of minor league baseball after 1988 led the Bulls to construct a larger stadium. Fortunately, the smoking bull sign followed the team, and it’s still an active, though seldom hit — part of the ballpark experience:
Thinking about Bull Durham and Dick Cheney (after your column) reminded me of the Baseball Hall of Fame censorship scandal in 2003, when Cheney was in his heyday. To mark the 15th anniversary of the movie, the Hall of Fame was going to host an event that summer. But the president of the HoF, a former member of the Reagan administration, unilaterally cancelled the event a month after the US invaded Iraq — on the grounds that a couple of past-their-prime actors (Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon) posed a dire national security threat: “We believe your very public criticism of President Bush at this important — and sensitive — time in our nation’s history helps undermine the U.S. position, which ultimately could put our troops in even more danger.”
That was about as popular as the recent censorship idiocy regarding Jimmy Kimmel. Robbins, however, had the best response: “Long live democracy, free speech and the ‘69 Mets — all improbable, glorious miracles that I have always believed in.”
Have a great Thanksgiving break. See you the Friday after next!