Curmie is currently in the process of moving into a new office which is far too small to accommodate his collection of books, even after he gave away over 1000 of them. One of the volumes he still hasn’t figured out what to do with is his Penguin paperback copy of Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War, purchased over 40 years ago for a course he took in grad school.
Coming across that volume triggered a memory of struggling with one of that book’s most famous sections, the Stasis in Corcyra. It wasn’t that the passages in question were too confusing. Rather, it was that word “stasis”; no one would describe the civil war on the island of Corcyra in 427 BCE as static.
A little digging (well, actually more than a little, as these were the days before the internet) revealed that virtually all English translations of those passages of Thucydides had simply adopted a cognate of the Greek word στάσις (stásis), meaning roughly “that which is stood up.” So something firmly placed and unchanging would be static, or in a state of stasis. But the word also carried the meaning of “standing up against,” in the sense of resisting authority. So the insurrection on Corcyra was, in fact, an act of stasis.
These linguistic constructions, known as contranyms, auto-antonyms, or “Janus words” (among other locutions) are not uncommon. We all understand that a peer might be a member of the English nobility or an equal, or that “it’s all downhill from there” might mean that the system is in decline or that the hard part is over and we can coast to the finish line.
I’m not sure if there’s a word for the variation on the theme that forms the title of this essay: the two meanings of the term are not in direct contradiction, but they lead to pretty close to opposite conclusions. What I find interesting is that both definitions can apply simultaneously.
That is, “having no convictions” can mean lacking a system of guiding principles, especially one involving a moral compass or an ethical center. It can also mean that the subject has never been convicted of a crime. I’d argue that Donald Trump fits both descriptions rather well.
Curmie doubts that even his staunchest defenders (the ones not a member of the cult, at least) would deny that Trump’s actions on innumerable occasions have been considerably less than honorable, or suggest that he’s anything but a narcissist. I note also, that, as was demonstrated in the episode of the old “Perry Mason” TV show I watched a couple nights ago, it is possible to frame the guilty. (In real life, there’s a really good chance that this is what happened in the OJ Simpson trial.) The fact that some (many? most?) of the criminal cases against Trump may well be politically motivated doesn’t mean he didn’t do what he’s accused of doing.
On the flip side, even the most rabid of Trump’s political enemies, specifically the ones ululating about the 14th amendment, must agree that the man has not been convicted of anything. They might even grudgingly acknowledge that barring a conviction on certain specific charges relating directly to the events of January 6, it doesn’t really matter how many indictments there are. (Insert cliché about ham sandwiches here.)
Rhetoric being what it is, there are, of course, two ways of reading the title of this piece. We could see Trump as an unethical person who has, however, not been found guilty of a relevant crime, and therefore should not be prevented from running for the presidency again. Or we could argue that the standard of conduct to assume the most important job in the country if not the world ought to be a little higher than never having been found guilty of what amounts to treason. ¿Por qué no los dos?
Voting against someone despite the obvious problems with that candidate’s opponent is a time-honored tradition at Chez Curmie, and I would not deprive my fellow citizens of the right to do likewise. But voting for someone ought to require a belief that the candidate has something positive to offer, and is of at least average mental acuity and integrity. Neither front-runner meets those standards, nor, frankly, do I see any of the likely alternatives in either party doing so. Alas.
So we’re left with this, Gentle Reader: barring an intervening event, Donald Trump should be allowed to seek the presidency again, and no one should vote for him (or, at least for him). He has no convictions, but he has no convictions.
NOTE: This essay was written for the “Curmie’s Conjectures” series of guest posts on the Ethics Alarms blog. It has been edited very slightly here. Gentle Reader, you are welcome, of course, to join in the discussion there... you will find some masterful variations on whataboutism, if nothing else.
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