The Isolation Diaries No. 32

“If we didn’t do any testing we would have very few cases.” Donald J. Trump

Yeah, the sitting president of the United States is as ignorant as the quote above indicates. A moron, or, as Rex Tillerson famously said, “a fucking moron.” Tillerson was a corporate weasel, but he picked up on Trump’s vibe right away. Other administration figures must have felt -- and at least one or two must secretly feel -- the same way about Trump, but most of them have taken a vow of silence, afraid, I guess, of being disparaged on Twitter and FOX News. 

Tyrants, whether the real deal like Putin or a faux model like Trump, rise to power with the silent complicity of people who know better. 

Yesterday I finished reading a book by historian Jeff Forret titled Williams’ Gang: A Notorious Slave Trader and his Cargo of Black Convicts. After the United States prohibited the African slave trade, the internal demand for enslaved labor in the sugar and cotton producing southern states drove a furious forced relocation of black people from the Chesapeake region to the lower south. Forret meticulously documents the business and legal structures that made this trade possible and enormously profitable for many slave traders, buyers, boat captains, bankers, lawyers, speculators, and owners of private slave jails or pens. 

In the Epilogue Forret draws a line from the antebellum era, through the Civil War and Reconstruction, creation of black codes and  convict-leasing, all the way to mass incarceration in our time. Here’s a short passage:

“As with the slave trade, prisons engage in a form of economic speculation grounded in African-American bodies and the shipment of captive workforces to locations where the demand for labor is high. The modern-day exploitation of black inmates’ labor remains a thriving business in which the law has again been complicit.”

There were many interesting aspects to Williams’ Gang, but one that struck me was how fearful white people were of slave revolts. The memory of what happened in Haiti and many smaller domestic slave insurrections was never far from the mind of slave owners. Blacks who had been convicted of crimes were not welcome in many states because citizens feared that even by mere presence they might unduly influence enslaved people. 

Again the weather is sublime, blue skies, warm sunshine, the beauty of Santa Barbara on full display. The vibe is that of a city soon to be freed from constraint, able once again to open its arms and welcome the world. 

I’ve read a few reviews of books coming out that compare the contemporary polarized American political scene to that of the decade before the Civil War. It’s an interesting comparison. Whether slavery would be curtailed or allowed into new swaths of American territory was a central question, as was the fate of fugitive slaves, and whether or not the authorities in a free state had to take a hand in the return to their owners of enslaved runaways. These were divisive issues that turned the nation against itself. Local skirmishes and vitriol pointed to a cataclysmic confrontation.  

“Tell me some good news about the pandemic,” my daughter says. I tell her the cities and states where new cases seem to be on the decline, but add a cautionary note about states that might be tempting the Virus God by trying to reopen prematurely. “Not helpful,” she says. Then she sing-songs a line about wanting to hold her boyfriend’s hand. This pandemic has been inconvenient for young lovers. 

We walked from our apartment to the CVS in the 1100 block of State Street. There were definitely more people out and about, gathered in small groups on the Courthouse lawn; a family of Chinese people were taking photographs of each other on Figueroa. CVS was quiet, as many employees as customers. 

Again the weather is sublime, blue skies, warm sunshine, the beauty of Santa Barbara on full display. The vibe is that of a city soon to be freed from constraint, able once again to open its arms and welcome the world. 

I’m not that optimistic. Fits and starts is what I see. Covid-19 still has the country on the backfoot. When defensive soccer teams come out of their block too soon against superior opposition, lose the shape, recklessly commit too many players forward, they are usually punished on the counter-attack. 

State of Emergency?

“Out of the ashes of the current catastrophe, America’s white working class seems to have fashioned a new culture of pain and trauma, rooted in white America’s peculiar imperative to seem happy all the time (unless you’re sick) and to personalize and depoliticize financial hardship.” Helen Epstein, Left Behind, New York Review of Books

A few weeks ago I said I was watching how the Trump gang would respond to the coronavirus. As expected, the response has been chaotic and incoherent, with false statements, contradictions, blithe dismissals, empty boasts, and, most recently, Trump’s disavowal of any responsibility. None of this is at all surprising. Trump is a decent politician who has seized control of the GOP, but he is a terrible leader, utterly incompetent, insecure, and out of his depth. Trump’s glaring personal deficiencies -- lack of character, morality, empathy, honesty, intelligence -- are now on full display, and as the coronavirus spreads, which it will, and the human and economic consequences deepen, which they will, Trump will not be able to hide. His attempts to blame everyone else for his, and his lackey-filled administration’s response to a deepening public health crisis, will sound more and more unhinged, ridiculous, and idiotic. 

It’s only March. The presidential election is eight months away. A whole lot can go wrong for Trump in that time, and by his own hand, he’s made it more likely that what happens will be bad, not good. The man is running from his own incompetence, and losing the race. Naturally, Trump claims the exact opposite.  

Locally, Santa Barbara is shutting down. Schools will be closed for the next few weeks, UCSB is holding classes online, hundreds of community events, performances, fundraisers and other public gatherings have been postponed or cancelled. My wife and I were in Whole Foods Friday night and it looked like looters had just left: no almond milk or ground beef, empty vegetable bins, a depleted frozen food aisle. Unlike a lot of people, we haven’t hoarded toilet paper or canned goods. I can’t decide if we are being sensible or not taking the situation seriously enough. I want to avoid panicking but the vibe in this city is heavy, fretful, anxious, and scared. 

Just as Trump’s complete failure of leadership isn’t surprising, it’s also no surprise that the United States government is ill-prepared to combat a pandemic. How can it be otherwise when for nearly four decades, we’ve had it drummed into us that government is the problem, and that unfettered capitalism, where individuals are responsible for themselves, is the path to freedom, security, and happiness? Why do we need government when we have markets? As Helen Epstein notes in the quote above, we have depoliticized financial hardship. In other words, each of us has shouldered the weight, the total responsibility to grab and realize the American Dream, while ignoring the structural reasons we cannot get ahead no matter how hard we work or how many jobs we hold down. We’ve been told that a price can be fixed to every human endeavor, that we have nothing in common with, and no responsibility for, anyone but ourselves and those nearest us. Now comes a pandemic, and America’s disinvestment in the Commons is coming into crystal clear relief. Why do so few American workers enjoy paid sick leave? Because too many American workers are not represented by a union. And why are there so few unions? Because neoliberal ideology, starting with Ronald Reagan, killed almost all of them. 

Working people in America need an advocate.  

Live Update: I just ran down to the Trader Joe’s on Milpas Street, hoping to find ground turkey, almond milk, and coffee creamer. The meat section was bare; no almond milk to be had, though I did find creamer. No cereal. Half a dozen boxes of maple and brown sugar oatmeal. The canned food aisle had been picked clean -- no tuna, salmon, beans, soup. There were plenty of bananas and eggs. No shortage of wine and beer. There wasn’t much bread. Look how quickly our lives have changed; our needs and desires and comforts are suddenly harder to fill. 

In our small pantry we have 1 can of pinto beans, 3 cans of refried beans, 1 jar of mayonnaise and 1 jar of pizza sauce. I’m afraid to count the remaining rolls of toilet paper in the hall closet.