FIRE's Failure and Curmie's Happiness in Retirement

 

One of the more troubling survey results.  Probably.

If FIRE, the Federation for Individual Rights and Expression is known for anything by the general public, it’s for their annual Free Speech Rankings of colleges and universities.  The new (2026: apparently they’re like model years for cars in this regard) list dropped this week, and it reveals some troubling information.

Nearly 2/3 of the 257 colleges and universities studied received a failing grade from FIRE, and none got better than a B-.  Of course, if what you want to do is to show the need for your organization, you’re likely to paint a rather gloomy picture of the status quo, so perhaps a grain of salt is called for.  Still, it’s chilling that FIRE President Greg Lukianoff’s could comment that, 

Rather than hearing out and then responding to an ideological opponent, both liberal and conservative college students are retreating from the encounter entirely. This will only harm students’ ability to think critically and create rifts between them. We must champion free speech on campus as a remedy to our culture's deep polarization.

A third of college students surveyed agreed that violence is acceptable, at least “rarely,” to stop speech.  A majority said they would oppose their school’s inviting any of six controversial speakers (three from the left and three from the right) to campus.  Note: these are not specific individuals, apparently, but hypothetical people who are quoted as saying something controversial, e.g., “children should be allowed to transition without parental consent” or “transgender people have a mental disorder.”  You get the picture, Gentle Reader. 

Of course, some of this gets into areas of fungible definitions.  Is grabbing and restraining someone who is inciting violence (i.e., engaging in non-protected speech) perpetrating violence against that person?  Or is the term limited to punching out someone you disagree with?  Does “rarely” mean “only in extremely rare circumstances” (such as just described) or just “not very often”?  And what is meant by “invite”?  Is that my tuition money that’s being spent on bringing in this person whose views I abhor, or is it the Young Republicans/Democrats/whatever footing the bill?

Similarly, it’s also difficult for a university to legitimately be blamed for students’ reluctance to discuss controversial issues in entirely social atmospheres outside the classroom.  If, for example, a student hears another student advocating a position on abortion or the conflict in Gaza which is radically different from their own, choosing not to express a contrary view may be appropriate if that decision comes not from fear but from simply not wanting to be bothered. 

Similarly, Curmie has three different responses to those who disagree with his posts, both here on the blog and, considerably more frequently, on the Facebook page.  (No one has really taken issue with anything he’s posted on BlueSky; that bridge will be crossed if/when reached.)  Usually, the comment simply remains with no counter-argument.  Curmie isn’t afraid of detractors, but sometimes they’re just not worth the trouble.  Sometimes, Curmie responds with a clarification or further argument.  Rarely (there’s that word, again), he’ll ban someone.  (He hasn’t done that in several years.)

For all this, FIRE’s work, whether arguing against speech codes, protecting research from government interference, or working to eliminate loyalty oaths (including towards DEI advocacy), is unquestionably a net positive, and the free speech rankings contribute towards this utility.

FIRE is, to be sure, enormously and not infrequently smugly proud of their work, and Wednesday’s webinar to hype the new rankings showed that off.  Curmie does not begin to profess to any expertise in surveying, data collection and analysis, and the like, but he does come by his soubriquet honestly, and there was more than one instance in which his eyebrow raised in skepticism. 

A couple examples, paraphrased to what Curmie was hearing (perhaps not what the speaker thought he was saying).  “Well, we have this totally subjective green/yellow/red light analysis, and we’ll give you points if you’re green and take them away if you’re not…. We don’t really pay any attention to the good things you’ve done unless you pro-actively tell us about them before the rankings come out….  If you sign on to the Chicago principles, you get points for that; actually following them is (apparently) of less importance….”

The whole process seems to be an attempt to make a fundamentally subjective analysis seem objective.  Curmie has been guilty of the same; he’s not pretending otherwise, but he at least tries to let the audience in on the extent to which the evidence is or is not trustworthy.  And he’d definitely be interested in how self-selecting respondents were.  He knows how course evaluations work, after all.  As soon as they became optional, they lost pretty much all credibility.  If there are 20 students in a class—5 loved it, 3 hated it, and a dozen thought it was OK, you’ll get two positive responses, three negative responses, and two “meh” responses.  How FIRE’s methodology addresses this problem would be worth knowing.

More problematic was the avoidance of the proverbial elephant in the room.  That’s a particularly apt expression, since the elephant is the symbol of the Republican Party, which, at least in states like Florida and Texas (there are others, no doubt), is the greatest threat to free speech on university campuses. 

As many readers of this blog know and others will have surmised, Curmie is a retired professor at a state university in Texas.  That makes him both a little more knowledgeable and, admittedly, a little more biased in his interpretation of what is transpiring.  But he finds it difficult to understand how a student’s willingness or unwillingness to discuss controversial subjects in a purely social setting is more relevant to free speech concerns than is a professor’s ability to determine what should and should not be taught in a course in their area of expertise.

This summer, Greg Abbott and his simpering acolytes in the Texas legislature passed SB37, which is as anti-intellectual, authoritarian, and generally reprehensible a piece of legislation as Curmie can recall, anywhere, ever.  Curmie hopes to write a longer essay on this, but let’s just say that articles like the ones linked here and here pretty well reflect Curmie’s thinking. 

The bill strips faculty of the right to elect their own representatives, de facto grants state government the right to overturn any decision made at a state university, and gives whatever local authority remains exclusively to the president.  The president is appointed, often unilaterally, by the regents, who are appointed by the governor.  In the over two decades that Curmie has been affiliated with the university from which he is now retired, not a single regent has not been a hard-core Republican.  Indeed, their political affiliations have often been trotted out as if they were credentials for the job.

But, as they say in the late-night infomercials, “Wait!  That’s not all!”  SB37 is, more than anything, an assault on academic freedom and, by extension, of freedom of speech.  Political hacks are scouring every syllabus, looking for anything that might challenge right-wing ideology or even suggest that different points of view might not only exist, but reasonably exist.

And now we circle back to that webinar, in which viewers were encouraged to submit questions.  So Curmie did so.  He can’t reproduce his question verbatim, but it was something like this: “In an environment in which state legislatures are exercising what amounts to absolute control over curriculum, why are you surveying only students and not faculty about free speech issues?”  His question was ignored, while the moderator cheerfully moved on a softball questions from someone she identified as her friend.  OK, there were probably more questions than could have been accommodated in the time frame, and the answer to my question, pretty much “it’s hard to do that,” was sort of hinted at in response to a different question.

But it wasn’t the avoidance of Curmie’s question that really stood out.  Someone asked about the news out of Texas A&M, where a single narcissistic and reactionary student circulated a surreptitious video of challenging a professor for including a discussion of verboten (by Trump/Abbott) topics like gender identity and transgender people.  A grandstanding pol got involved, and soon the professor was fired, the dean and department chair demoted, and the president at the very least under fire.

Edicts about what can and cannot be taught in a university classroom are clear violations of academic freedom and evidence of authoritarianism. Firing a professor without even the pretense of due process is illegal, or at least would be in any state with a governor or state legislatures that weren’t so proudly anti-intellectual.  Curmie is loath to use terms that exaggerate the gravity of a situation, but if this isn’t fascism, the footwear sure does seem to be the correct size.

Anyway, whoever asked the question didn’t go into any details, just that a professor at A&M had been fired.  Someone from FIRE acknowledged the situation in about a half a sentence, didn’t explain the context to listeners who might not have heard about the incident, and then proclaimed in the Q&A link that the question had been answered.  NO, IT FUCKING WASN’T!

FIRE still, as of this writing, hasn’t addressed the situation at A&M, just as they never addressed the question of religious charter schools in Oklahoma, but they did get out a brief statement about the shooting of Charlie Kirk, leaping to the conclusion that it was politically motivated.  (It might very well have been, but they certainly didn’t know that when the statement was released.)

PEN America, however, responded swiftly and surely.  Here’s Jonathan Friedman, Sy Syms Managing Director of U.S. Free Expression Programs: 

We are witnessing the death of academic freedom in Texas, the remaking of universities as tools of authoritarianism that suppress free thought.  The decision to remove these academic leaders to satisfy politicians’ demands is an excessive punishment for the alleged violation of transparency requirements. When university presidents have little choice but to dismiss faculty members’ expertise and enforce ideological edicts, the space for free speech and open inquiry on our campuses is undeniably being suffocated.

As he writes this, Curmie is a member of FIRE but not of PEN America.  Both those situations are likely to change in the relatively near future.

Back when he was teaching, Curmie assigned texts by the likes of Marguerite Duras, Jean Genet, Imamu Amiri Baraka, Augusto Boal, and Irish drag queen Panti Bliss (Curmie encourages you to look up any of these folks who are new to you, Gentle Reader): not to get students to agree with their ideologies, but because you can’t understand the entirety of the way theatre and the larger culture interact without acknowledging the voices that may be on the periphery in one way or another.

If he were still teaching, Curmie wouldn’t change his syllabus or his teaching style one iota to accommodate the dictates of petty tyrants like Abbott or Trump.  It’s a good thing he’s retired, then.  This way, they won’t have to fire him.

Columbia v. Columbia

 

This story has been around for over a month, and Curmie got most of this essay written weeks ago, but couldn’t quite push it over the finish line.  It’s interesting enough, though, to try again, even if we’re not exactly talking about breaking news.

It’s not a surprise that Curmie learned about this very American news item from the British newspaper, The Guardian.  He confesses that when he first saw the headline, “Columbia Sportswear sues Columbia University for trademark infringement,” he thought the article was from Andy Borowitz or Not the Onion.  It isn’t.

What’s particularly interesting here is not merely that the clothing line has a point, but that this is yet another example of administrative incompetence at one of the nation’s premier universities.  There may have been earlier examples, but the incident that stands out is the response to student protests in the aftermath of the Hamas attack on Israeli (and other) citizens in October of 2023.

The university’s administration managed to make about every conceivable mistake then: stifling First Amendment protected demonstrations while simultaneously taking little or no action against people who really were breaking the law (blocking access to buildings, holding staff against their will, etc.). 

Then came the utter mishandling of the finals-week protest in the library and the ongoing capitulations to the Mad King of Trumpistan’s various whims.  Columbia professor Rashid Khalidi’s “open letter” to Interim President Claire Shipman, despite being a bit overblown in places, makes some legitimate points, especially about using the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition of antisemitism.  The problem is that although that the IHRA describes it as a “working definition” and states explicitly that “criticism of Israel similar to that leveled against any other country cannot be regarded as antisemitic,” there are a lot of other places where that document infringes on free speech rights. 

More problematically, it is these parts of the definition that have been foregrounded of late, to the point at which Kenneth Stern, one of the authors of that policy, objected to the way it is now being employed, saying it “was not drafted, and was never intended, as a tool to target or chill speech on a college campus.” 

But all of those stories involved decisions that seem to be based on a lack of ethical fortitude.  The recent lawsuit stems from something more fundamental: garden-variety stupidity.  Every college and university in the country has a policy regarding the use of the name of the school on clothing, glassware, and so on.  Everything goes through the marketing folks, whose job it is to make sure the school is presented positively and that all the legal requirements have been met.

Curmie has a rather large collection of show t-shirts and some from advising an honor society, every one of which went through the approval process.  (We had to fight for one of the show shirts, but it was because the image showed broken doll parts.  No, Curmie is not kidding.) 

We can reasonably object to the ability of a sportswear company to trademark a term that was associated with a university for nearly two centuries before the corporation even came into being.  Suing for damages instead of sending a “cease and desist” seems a bit much.  And if Curmie reads just the word “Columbia,” his first thought is of the university, and his second thought is that someone spelled the name of that South American country incorrectly. 

All that said, there was an agreement signed a couple of years ago.  One presumes that the contract specifies that the relevant gear would be limited to things available to the public, as opposed to, say, athletic uniforms.  Anyway, all the university needed to do was to put something on their hats and t-shirts and so on that clearly indicated that the “Columbia” in question was the school and not the company.  This could be the word “university,” or the insignia, or the lion mascot, or a specific academic department, even the year the university was founded. 

These stipulations do not strike Curmie as oppressive.  But, says the company, there were items listed on a university website that had none of those identifiers.  The image shown above would be an example.  It’s especially significant that the blue color is associated with both the university and the company. Note: Curmie didn’t find that photo on an official website, and it may date from prior to the contractual agreement; it’s intended to suggest the kind of thing under consideration, not necessarily to be construed as evidence.

What’s significant here is that even the most litigious corporation isn’t going to bring a lawsuit against a university unless they have some pretty convincing evidence.  They may be a bit on the over-zealous side (what harm have they actually suffered, even if all their allegations are true?), but to say the university doesn’t come out of this looking good is to err on the side of understatement.  When someone like Curmie is even tempted to side with a big corporation against an Ivy League school, well…

Boy, Is This Not Greatness

Mitchell Hall, where (presumably) Boy My Greatness
was to have been performed

A grad school friend of Curmie’s now lives a few miles from the University of Central Oklahoma, which recently suppressed the production of a play that had been scheduled to be produced this month.  He posted about this story on his Facebook page, and Curmie became interested, in part because there is so little press coverage (more on that below).

Curmie doesn’t know the work in question, Zoe Senese-Grossberg’s 2024 play Boy My Greatness, but he did immediately recognize one of the most famous lines from Antony and Cleopatra, in which the Egyptian queen, now captured by Caesar’s minions, predicts that “Antony / Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see / Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness / I’ th’ posture of a whore.” (That’s V.ii.265-8, if you’re playing along at home, Gentle Reader.)

The line is not only metatheatrical (there are other examples in Shakespeare, but this is probably the best known), but also, of course, self-referentially ironic: the actor saying that line at the Globe (or perhaps the Second Blackfriars?) Theatre in c. 1607 would almost certainly have been a boy.  Indeed, this speech is one of the major pieces of evidence that boys, rather than adult female impersonators, played the women’s roles. It’s possible, of course, but unlikely, that there were adults roughly equivalent to the onnagata in Kabuki in some of those parts.  But this would almost certainly create an even “squeakier” Cleopatra, as higher pitches do not come naturally to post-puberty males.  The point is taken, either way.

It comes as no surprise, then, that a play titled Boy My Greatness deals with boys playing women in Shakespeare’s plays.  It’s set in 1606, and one of the plays currently in rehearsal is indeed Antony and Cleopatra.  (Yes, it’s probable that the play hadn’t been written yet in 1606, but it’s not like the Bard himself didn’t play fast and loose with historical accuracy.)

It is simply a fact that all women’s roles in public performances (court masques were a different category) in the Elizabethan and Jacobean periods in England were played by male actors.  Even the most ignorant of university officials must surely know that.  Ah, but two of the boys in this play are, or at least have been, in a romantic relationship.  One presumes that is what rattled the chain of the homophobic idiots censorial asshats university counsel’s office.  

OK, let’s take this one step at a time.  There’s a stupid law at the state level and a directive (not a law) from the feds that forbid the use of public funds to support “DEI” initiatives.  Curmie disagrees with these restrictions, but acknowledges that in a perfect world they would be sensible.  (He also gestures broadly, wearing an expression readily translatable as “does this look like a perfect world to you?”)

But if the laws themselves are problematic, the idea that staging a play in which gay (or curious) characters exist is somehow endorsing DEI is ample evidence that, to borrow a felicitous phrase from Ken White of Popehat, universities should cease hiring legal counsel from the back of a bait shop. 

Showing something onstage is not endorsing it, as ought to be painfully obvious to anyone who can out-think a turnip.  Even portraying a character favorably falls well short of supporting everything about that individual.  Curmie once directed a production of Jean Racine’s Phaedra; that doesn’t make him (or his actors) either a Jansenite Catholic or a monarchist.  He’s directed Mishima Yukio’s Lady Aoi; he’s neither a Buddhist nor a believer in demonic possession.  He’s directed Athol Fugard’s “Master Harold… and the boys”; he does not endorse the racial animus perpetrated (briefly) by the title character.  But you, Gentle Reader, already knew all of this.  That’s because you’re considerably smarter than UCO’s legal staff (or president, or trustees, or whoever really made this decision). 

True, the university’s official statement reads “After a review of the requirements outlined in the contract from the national production company with legal counsel, the university’s theatre department decided not to support the local production of the show with university resources at this time.” 

Gentle Reader, if you believe the decision was de facto made by the theatre department, Curmie has some ocean-front property in Kansas he’s willing to sell to you for cheap.  This has every earmark of a top-down decision made by administrators.  Curmie’s friend, who may have information that hasn’t been made public, says there were threats of firings, which prompted faculty and students to “back down.”  Of course, any theatre faculty member who willingly capitulated to this nonsense without being somehow threatened should indeed be fired. 

But, as Curmie has suggested before, there is a lesson here: Don’t Fuck with Theatre Kids, who are an industrious and creative lot.  The good news, or at least the promising news, is that a Gofundme campaign raised considerably more money than the $2000 goal, and plans are afoot to find an off-campus venue for the production.  As of this writing, such a space has not yet been secured, but hopes are high.

As noted above, there is remarkably little press coverage of any of this.*  There’s a single story from a local TV station which does, at least, seem to have been picked up by yahoo.  The lack of press about the incident suggests that the censors will get away with their bigoted and authoritarian bullshit without the widespread humiliation they so richly deserve.  This post is, perhaps, the proverbial voice crying in the wilderness (Curmie did go to Dartmouth, after all, where Vox Clamantis in Deserto is the college motto), but at least it’s something.  Gentle Reader, you should, of course, feel free to make your voice heard, too (even if you disagree with Curmie).

Curmie closes by turning the floor over to his friend: “Show will be done. UCO will lose theatre majors/students. Faculty and admin will retain their jobs. And the state legislature will gain confidence in their fascist policies.”

What he said.

* This statement was true when this piece was posted.  There is now a piece by Howard Sherman and an article in Playbill.  This is good news.

Will the Release of the Epstein Files Matter? Sort of. Maybe.

The top stories of the last few days all revolve around the “Epstein files.”  Well, them and the myriad frenzied attempts by 47 and his minions to get us to focus on literally anything else: the bullshit deployment of National Guard troops to DC to pick up trash and spread mulch, threats to do the same to New York, Chicago, and New Orleans despite court decisions that such missions are illegal, the unquestionably illegal destruction of that Venezuelan ship that may or may not have been carrying narco-terrorists…  Those distractions have failed bigly, not least because it’s all over but the final score.  The names will come out, and we have GOP Congresscritters Massey and Greene (yes, really!), among others, of course, to thank for it.

More to the point, anyone paying the slightest bit of attention has now determined that the likelihood that the President of the United States is not merely a con artist and an authoritarian bully but also a pedophile and rapist has moved out of “preponderance of the evidence” territory and into “beyond reasonable doubt.” 

Few criminals have ever acted more guilty.  The Trump administration can’t even keep its lies consistent.  The files were on Pam Bondi’s desk, but they don’t exist.  The whole thing is a Democratic hoax, but Bill Clinton’s name appears.  Curmie’s recent appreciation of Luigi Pirandello notwithstanding, anyone with the analytical skills of the dumbest kid in kindergarten knows that all of those statements can’t be true at the same time.  The only question is whether any of them are.

Certainly, moving Ghislane Maxwell to Club Fed was sufficient evidence of rampant corruption to convince all but the well and truly brainwashed, and asserting that survivors’ testimony at the press conference is “irrelevant” or that Republican legislators who exhibit even enough backbone to want the truth to come out are “hostile” certainly should have clinched the issue even for the stragglers who hadn’t long since come to that conclusion.

Of course, those who drank deep of the MAGA Kool-Aid don’t care, and those of us who dare suggest that Dear Leader is anything less than a literal godsend will continue to be called Trump Deranged, irrespective of evidence, even by people who know better (or ought to).  But the hard-core MAGAs seem to be losing at least some of their suasion in the Republican party: when you’re revealed as too big of a sicko for Marjorie Taylor Greene, the proverbial writing is on the wall.  Special elections are showing huge gains for Democrats: breaking the state legislature’s GOP super-majority in Iowa by gaining an easy victory in a district that voted for Trump by double digits a few months ago is but one example.

And that’s significant.  Curmie may find the political stances of the current crop of GOP pols more problematic than those of their predecessors of a few decades ago (yes, they’re considerably worse than Nixon or Reagan), but there are relatively few of them outside of the Manchurian Cantaloupe’s appointees who could legitimately be described as evil.  There are some, of course: Mike Johnson (aptly described by Curmie five years ago as “a hitherto unknown little turd”), Ron DeSantis, Greg Abbott and Ken Paxton come to mind.

Most, though, are simply amoral (as opposed to immoral), cowards.  Some, like Susan Collins, Rand Paul, and Lisa Murkowski, will occasionally offer a bit of token resistance before ultimately capitulating every damned time to whatever whim takes shape in what passes for a brain in the Mad King of Trumpistan.  These people cannot be trusted, full stop. 

But others—those who may not have a lot of core beliefs but sure would like to be re-elected—are beginning to recognize that servile obeisance to POTUS just might cause more problems than it solves.  The Astroturf support of billionaire mega-donors is nice, no doubt (or at least Susan Collins thinks so), but the disillusionment of the citizenry is real.  Distancing oneself from a party leader who is underwater on literally every issue, and on some of them even among Republicans, comes a little easier under those circumstances.

Curmie isn’t celebrating an imminent return to power for the Democrats, at least not yet.  The GOP’s willingness to be completely forthright in their declarations that they have no interest in representing their constituents, only in maintaining their party’s control of the government, is concerning.  The leftie press is suggesting that the Trumpsters wouldn’t be so openly seeking to gerrymander if they weren’t afraid of the results in a fair election.  Whether that’s true or not is, of course, a matter for conjecture.  It could be that the GOP seeks a supermajority, or that they’re confident in victory (remember Trump’s almost-admission that Elon Musk had manipulated the 2024 election?), anyway.

None of this is new, of course.  Curmie remembers a dozen years ago when Greg Abbott, then the Attorney General for Texas, cheerfully declared in a court document (!) that of course their most recent gerrymandering was designed specifically to increase the power of the Republican Party, but, you see, it wasn’t racially motivated (note: it was, of course), so it was OK.

And no, Gentle Reader, Curmie is not pretending that the Democrats aren’t perfectly willing to play the same game.  Indeed, they have.  But as the New York Times’s Sam Wang wrote about the 2012 election, “Both sides may do it, but one side does it more often.”  And, of course, Democrats voted 220-1 for the 2021 “For the People Act,” which would have required non-partisan commissions rather than state legislatures to establish Congressional districts; Republicans opposed the bill 209-0, with two not voting.  It was then blocked from even receiving a vote in the Senate by Mitch McConnell.

But this piece isn’t about gerrymandering… although we may return to that topic in the future.  What matters here is the extent to which the Epstein affair matters.  The answer, Curmie suspects, could be anywhere on the continuum from “a lot” to “not much.”  As noted above, everyone already knows that Trump will be implicated if that material ever becomes public.  The only question is how significantly.  But knowing in one’s brain and one’s heart that such evidence exists and being unable to deny that evidence’s existence are two different things.

Still, Trump’s boast early in the 2016 campaign that he could “stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and [not] lose voters” may be a little more true than we’d like to believe.  Certainly, anyone who ever would have actively supported Trump—as opposed to despising him less than the other candidate—is indeed sufficiently lacking in morality (or even humanity) that the only thing that would make such a person change their mind would be for Trump to stop being a racist, sexist, anti-intellectual, plutocratic homophobe.

Still, whereas such people are willing to excuse his lies, his felony convictions, his open grifting, and his incoherent bluster… they might just draw the line at raping junior high girls.  The MTGs of the world will tell the tale.  At the moment there’s a trickle of dissent.  If it stays that way, we’ll have to wait until at least next year’s midterms to see how things play out.  But even one or two significant defections could open the floodgates. All bullies—and Trump is unquestionably in that category—are cowards.  If he stops scaring people, he’s powerless, because he’s too fundamentally stupid and narcissistic to convince anyone to come around to his point of view without at least an implicit threat. 

There is another possibility, of course: that we have the distraction backwards.  If, hypothetically, the files reveal that Trump was less complicit in the Epstein/Maxwell sexual exploitation ring than we had believed, then all the attention given to the files was itself the distraction from other illegal or unethical activity.

Ultimately, though, there is one central question: will the Republicans whom Curmie once disagreed with but respected stop bowing and scraping to the Grifter-in-Chief?  It’s possible.  After all, Trump has already secured the title of Most Corrupt President in US History.  He’s not only won the race, he’s lapped the field, leaving Nixon, Harding, and Grant looking at each other wondering how to even compete with that.  But the average GOP Congresscritter demonstrates, shall we say, invertebrate tendencies. 

Will the courageous and patriotic survivors of Epstein, Maxwell, and Trump who addressed the world this week save the country?  They just might.  Unfortunately, they could be our only chance.

 

Luigi Pirandello and the Mad King of Trumpistan

 

Luigi Pirandello, 1867-1936

Over the years, Curmie has called upon his knowledge of dramatic literature on several occasions to address topics that aren’t really about dramatic literature.  He may be forgetting something, but there are plenty of examples, not including references to novels, philosophical essays, films, television shows, songs, paintings, or other such works… or, of course, essays about censorship of plays or similar phenomena.

There’s a list of Curmie’s linkages of dramatic literature to contemporary events at the bottom of this essay.  Feel free to browse or ignore as you wish, Gentle Reader.

There are actually two plays that come to mind in terms of what Curmie wants to discuss here.  One is Denis Johnston’s The Old Lady Says No!, in which the central character is injured during a historical re-enactment and wakes up believing that he really is the Irish hero Robert Emmet.  Curmie is going to concentrate, however, on Luigi Pirandello’s Henry IV (Enrico IV).  It’s better known and came a little earlier: the short story on which it is based was published in 1915; the dramatic version was first produced in 1922, seven years before Johnston’s play.  It’s also a little closer to the point Curmie wants to make.  Henry IV is probably second on the list of Pirandello’s most significant plays: definitely behind Six Characters in Search of an Author, and probably a little ahead of Right You Are! (If You Think You Are). 

Curmie knows the latter two plays a little better, having directed them both, but has taught Henry IV a couple of times when the anthology he was using chose that rather than Six Characters as its representative Pirandello work.  The three plays all illustrate what Pirandello called “juxtaposed planes of reality.”  That is, rather than showing a single, distorted view of the world as occurs in, say, expressionism, Pirandello presents the reader/spectator with different perspectives which logically cannot be simultaneously true, but seem to be so.

In Six Characters, figures from an unfinished play interrupt a rehearsal looking for a playwright to finish their stories.  As such, they are simultaneously real and unreal, physically present and completely imaginary.  Consider that an audience seeing the play is watching actors playing actors playing characters from a different play altogether, and you’ll get an idea of the kind of philosophical gamesmanship in which Pirandello indulged.

In Right You Are!, and man (Signor Ponza) and his mother-in-law (Signora Frola) both declare the other to be insane.  According to him, she became distraught at the death of her daughter, and the only way to calm her was to pretend that his second wife was actually his first.  She, on the other hand, asserts that her daughter was in an asylum, not dead, but Ponza became convinced of her death, so Signora Ponza humored her husband’s delusions and married him again.  At the end of the play, Signora Ponza appears, declares herself to be Signora Frola’s daughter, Signor Ponza’s second wife, and for herself, “nobody” and “who you want me to be.”  It is truly a play in which you can’t tell the players without the proverbial scorecard, but that’s the point: truth is ambiguous, contradictory, and ultimately unknowable, as the raisonneur Laudisi laughingly points out in the play’s closing speech: “You have the truth! But are you satisfied?”

The title character in Henry IV had fallen off a horse several years ago, again in an enactment, and now believes himself to be Henry IV, the Holy Roman Emperor of the late 11^th century and into the early 12^th.  His colleagues set up an elaborate plan to maintain his fantasy, complete with period sets and costumes.  There are subplots aplenty: a new arrival who researched the wrong Henry IV (the French king who reigned about 500 years after the emperor Henry believes himself to be), a little unrequited love, an attempt to shock Henry back into reality, and so on. 

But the signature event is Henry’s revelation in Act II that he had come to his senses years earlier but chose to keep up the pretense of madness.  By the end of Act III, however, he appears to have reclaimed his madness, grabbing the sword from one of his counselors and stabbing (fatally, we presume) his present-day rival.  He then lapses back into his illusory world as the final curtain falls.  Or does he?

And now we start talking about the US in 2025.  A pedestrian (at best), paranoid, narcissist becomes convinced that he is the king of all he surveys.  A collection of sycophants and enablers cheerfully support his delusions (until he inevitably turns on them, of course).  He is an authoritarian monarch who seems to have little grasp on reality, makes decisions based on petty jealousies, and shows little regard for anyone but himself (or, from time to time, those very much like him).

The incoherent babble he spews, the obvious lies, the puerile strutting: do they mean he is delirious, or are they part of a strategy to test the extent of his associates’ willingness to dance puppet-like to his every whim?  Claiming he’s reduced prices by 1500% is the stuff of lunacy, but his followers, many of whom know better, and the same folks who loudly decried President Biden’s (less frequent and less egregious) lapses, are content to pass that off as “exaggeration.”  N.B., Curmie completely understands that literally everyone makes mistakes like this occasionally—Barack Obama didn’t really think there were 57 states—but normal, sane, people don’t do this with this level of regularity, and they sure as hell don’t double down on their absurd claims.  It is one of the signature characteristics of the Mad King of Trumpistan that he never admits that he made a mistake, even that he misspoke.

Is he as unhinged as he appears to be?  Is he lying, or does he really believe the nonsense he belches forth?  The real cause for concern is that we don’t know for sure.  Curmie has suggested before that intelligence and shrewdness are different things, and whereas this particular despot-wannabe has always been short on the former, he is more than amply supplied with the latter.  It boggles that mind that anyone this obviously self-serving, obviously mendacious, and obviously ignorant could draw a single vote from a reasonably sensible citizen, let alone get elected… but here we are.

Is it time to invoke the 25^th Amendment?  Well, that will never happen, as the entire Republican party has proven itself invertebrate, and SCOTUS is pretty well implicated, too.  Are the antics of the likes of Gavin Newsom unprofessional and distasteful, or are they the only hope of saving a tattered but still breathing democracy?  Curmie fears that the answer is “yes.”  Pirandello would certainly understand that seemingly contradictory ideas can co-exist.  He might even write a play about it.

Oh, wait.  He did.

Previous entries linking dramatic literature with contemporary events:

· W.B. Yeats’s The Countess Cathleen in a piece on the Catholic Church’s excommunication of a nun/hospital administrator who signed off on an abortion to save the life of the mother (the fetus would have died, anyway, by the way).

· Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida to discuss yet another example of the anti-intellectuality of the Texas Board of Education.

· Bertolt Brecht’s The Caucasian Chalk Circle in thinking about a standoff between Minnesota’s Democratic governor and Republican legislature.

· Henrik Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People to comment on multiple sexual assault allegations against jocks at the University of Montana.

· Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s The Visit to talk about a case in which the idiot repo guys stripped the wrong house and the homeowner wanted appropriate compensation.

·  John Lyly’s Gallathea and Phillida and Alexander and Campaspe in a piece about the debate over student loan forgiveness.

·  Aeschylus’s Oresteia, especially the Eumenides, to comment on President Biden’s pro-active pardon of his son, after promising he wouldn’t do so.

·  Shakespeare’s As You Like It (and some traditional Asian forms) in an indictment of Iowa’s heinous anti-drag proposal.  (Good news: the bill was ultimately defeated.)

·  Eugène Ionesco’s Rhinoceros to call attention to the craven insidiousness of the GOP’s decision to declare that there were no “calendar days” remaining in the 119^th Congress.

· Euripides’ Electra, Orestes, and Iphigenia in Aulis to discuss President Trump’s unfettered narcissism, mendacity, and duplicity… and the unlikelihood of a solution that doesn’t involve direct action.

 

 

Of Left-handedness, Sydney Sweeney, and Empathy

 

A typical evening at home for Curmie and Beloved Spouse consists of watching a couple of episodes of television shows—some new, some long since cancelled.  We can access a fair number of different streaming services, so we’re pretty well stocked with options. 

We’re particularly fond of mysteries, and that was last Saturday night’s fare.  Curmie won’t mention the program or the episode, except to mention that it was fairly recent, so he won’t risk spoiling something for you, Gentle Reader, but one of the shows featured our central character pretty much solving the crime by noticing that a photograph of a left-handed woman showed her holding a drink in her right hand.  That meant that she wasn’t really sentient when the photo was taken and that the culprit was creating a false alibi. 

As this moment was unfolding on our TV screen, Curmie, who is left-handed, was holding a glass of iced tea in his right hand.  He laughed at the incompetence of the writers; the general story line was pretty good, but that single moment spoiled the entire episode for him.  Beloved Spouse noticed the error, too, but was less upset about it.  We’ll come back to this in a moment.

This wasn’t the first time that we’ve experienced this phenomenon—there have been a couple other variations on the theme that we’ve seen in the last couple of months alone.  Of course, there was even a moment early in a Sherlock Holmes story in which our hero is showing off for a prospective client, deciding which was the man’s dominant hand based on which side of his face had been shaved first.  Curmie had actually thought of that bit of story-telling earlier in the day, when he realized that he had started to shave on the other side of his face from usual practice.

Which hand we use to do things isn’t absolute, in other words.  Curmie is a leftie in the things that make one a southpaw: writing, throwing, cutting, etc.  And if he ever tried to shoot a gun or play the guitar, he’d do them left-handed.  But for two-handed things: swinging a baseball bat (the one place that being a leftie is actually a small advantage), a golf club, or an axe, he’s right-handed.  He’s a little more right- than left-handed with a hockey or lacrosse stick, but is pretty close to ambidextrous in those areas.

And he drinks with his right hand more than with his left.  Part of this is situational: his accustomed seat is on the couch, with a TV tray to his right as he faces the television.  Part is cultural: if you want to see what’s printed on your mug, you’ve got to drink with your right hand.  This, of course, is reasonable given that about 90% of the population is right-handed.  But part is probably natural inclination.

Of course, there are many other ways in which there is a subtle but clear indication that right is right, and left is wrong.  (We’re not talking politics here, of course.)  The fact that words like “gauche” and “sinister” are linked to “left,” whereas “dexterous” is “right” is more than accidental.  But there are pragmatic considerations, as well.  Curmie sometimes has to use his “wrong” hand to take the cap off a bottle of water, for example:  more strength is generated turning the hand towards the body than away from it.  Again, perfectly understandable.  But left-handed spatulas, scissors, etc., are often hard to come by, or are considerably more expensive.  Curmie is only a couple months short of his 70th birthday, and has literally never seen a left-handed catcher’s mitt or serrated knife. 

But, Gentle Reader, you’ve no doubt already figured out that this essay isn’t really about which hand you drink with.  Rather, it’s about the thought that formed in Curmie’s mind as he lay down to bed: that the writer of that television episode must have been right-handed, because no leftie would possibly suggest that only right-handed people could possibly drink with their right hand… and that the reason Beloved Spouse wasn’t as upset as Curmie is because she’s right-handed.

Both of those suppositions are questionable at best, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that they formed in Curmie’s mind.  And that is what this piece is about.

When it comes to privilege in this society, being a leftie is about the only place Curmie is behind the curve.  Among the things over which he had no control but seem to have worked out in his favor are the facts that he’s a tallish cishet white male, born into a middle-class family with two loving and supportive parents who stayed together until his mom’s death when Curmie was already 37.  He had some control over his success as a student, but he was able to attend the colleges and universities of his choice without fear of going into deep, long-term, debt.

Like most theatre people, he got his start as an actor: in an arena in which there are more roles for men than for women, and more good women than good men at the amateur level.  In other words, he didn’t need to be as good as his female friends were to gain the experience that led to opportunities in other theatrical disciplines than acting.  That doesn’t mean he’s ashamed of what success he’s had, or that he didn’t earn it, but he acknowledges that he had fewer and lower hurdles to clear.

But he is left-handed, and suspects with some reason that people who aren’t don’t fully understand.  Sure, Gentle Reader, if you’re right-handed you’re still fully capable of intellectually appreciating some of the points made above.  But you don’t understand viscerally unless you live it day-by-day.

If you think about it, Gentle Reader, you’ll know why Curmie is reluctant to sit in the middle of the table at the restaurant or why he doesn’t use a lovely fountain pen he was given as a gift lest he smear ink all over the document.  But you probably won’t think about it unprompted.  That doesn’t make you a bad person, or even someone lacking in empathy.

By the same token, Curmie can simultaneously understand and not really understand what it’s like to be female, or LGBTQ+, or black, or Hispanic, or to have grown up in poverty, or in a foster home, or with an alcoholic parent, or… well, you get the point, Gentle Reader.  Curmie is unlikely to be grabbed by ICE unless he actively interferes with them (that could change in the future, but we’re not there yet).  Beloved Spouse’s best friend and several of my favorite former students might not be so lucky.  Our lawn guy, who has a pronounced Mexican accent, is probably at active risk.

The point is that virtually all of us are advantaged in some ways and disadvantaged in others.  And we’re all going to do stupid things: both failing to appreciate the consequences of what we say or do, and imagining ill intent where it didn’t exist.  The recent brouhaha over Sydney Sweeney’s ads for American Eagle is a prime example.  It takes a peculiar mix of paranoia and virtue signaling to get too upset over a play on words to link “genes,” which are what make this conventionally beautiful young woman blonde and blue-eyed, with “jeans,” which is what she’s selling.  To suggest that AE and/or Ms. Sweeney are advocating white supremacy or eugenics is, quite simply, daft.  The whole point is that she, not to be confused with all blue-eyed blondes, has great jeans/genes.

And stop the presses!  A clothing chain is using sex to get people to buy their product, an event never before seen in the history of advertising.  😉  Indeed, one suspects that the folks at AE knew their ad campaign would generate a response, which is precisely why they went with it.  Those ads have been seen by a lot more people a lot more times than a more conventional series would have received, and AE didn’t have to pay for most of it.  This is a variation on the phenomenon that got DJT a lot of free publicity back in 2016.

There’s a lot of noise about how Sweeney’s career may be in jeopardy because of the backlash, and that the Trump administration’s mocking of the uproar will work against her.  Curmie doubts it, but it could happen.

But here’s the thing: maybe Curmie just doesn’t get it.  He’s blue-eyed, after all, and was quite blond as a wee lad.  If his melanin count were higher, would he respond differently?  Again, doubtful… but maybe.

There are indeed some racists, sexists, homophobes and assorted other creeps out there.  But even this crusty old fart refuses to believe they are in the majority, even if they seem to be in charge of an increasingly authoritarian and intentionally cruel government.  What we need to do is three-fold.  First, spend a little time contemplating our collective tendency to conflate the specific and the general.  Second, consider the possibility that what we say or do isn’t what other people hear or see, or that what we see and hear isn’t what other people intended to do or say.  There’s a lot of communication theory about this, which Curmie, in an unaccustomed fit of empathy, with not bore you with, Gentle Reader.

Finally, we need to pick our battles.  One of the things Curmie talked a lot about as a director and occasional acting coach was the need to “have a place to go.”  If everything is highlighted, then nothing is highlighted.  Similarly, detaining specific illegal immigrants is different from rounding up everyone who “looks Hispanic” and sending them to a concentration camp.  And there’s enough actual racism out there not to get caught up in hypersensitivity. 

By the way, Curmie is well aware of the irony of posting about over-reaction on a site which is pretty much devoted to that kind of response.  He’s working on it.

Three Stories about Opera and Opera Houses

Curmie has seen a couple dozen operas, mostly presented by the music program at a place he was teaching.  He helped on a few, and even appeared in one.  (Fear not, Gentle Reader, it was as a narrator, as literally no one wants to hear him sing.)  But to say he’s an aficionado would slide beyond the boundaries of exaggeration and into falsehood.

That said, there are three opera or opera house stories that caught his attention in the past couple of weeks.  They are presented here in chronological order. 

We start, then, with a story Curmie first learned about from a post on Chris Peterson’s OnStage Blog.  The Thomaston (CT) Opera House has recently undergone a $3.5 million renovation, apparently funded by the state.  The space is home to the local community theatre and shares a building with the town hall.  About $700,000 of that grant was spent on restoring the original ceiling… and that’s where things start getting complicated. 

You see, that photo at the top of this entry is of part of the newly restored ceiling.  It duplicates that original design from when the opera house was built in 1884.  According to an article by Tracey O’Shaughnessy for ctinsider.com, the ceiling was designed “to get visitors to look up, forget their troubles and just get happy.”  There are four panels representing architecture, literature, music and the performing arts.  The ceiling and the rest of the building served to enhance civic pride.  State Historic Preservation Officer Jonathan Kinney says that the opera house “was a sign of a municipality achieving a level of status that they had evolved to a point that they could provide that for their residents.”

Ah, Gentle Reader, but you’ll have noticed that some of that decoration looks rather like swastikas.  The original ceiling included them as symbols evoking good fortune or well-being.  Remember, the building was constructed decades before the Nazis destroyed the possibility of a positive meaning to those images.  Well, actually, they only sorta did so.  By this Curmie is not suggesting that swastikas in the sense we generally think of them are anything but a symbol of hatred, but the ones on that Connecticut ceiling are pointing in a different direction than the one associated with Nazism: that is, the lines coming out from the center of the symbol turn left/counterclockwise, opposite of the Nazi version.

Does that matter?  Well, the term swastika comes from the Sanskrit, so it seems appropriate to respond as Curmie so often did in his Asian Theatre classes: yes and no.  First off, the term “swastika” applies to both the left-facing version seen on that ceiling and the right-facing version hijacked by the Nazis.  In other words, yes, those symbols are technically swastikas, but they aren’t what we generally think of when we use the term.  That does indeed mean that the people who are upset about the decision to repaint the ceiling are reacting to a stimulus that doesn’t really exist.  What Curmie finds interesting is that there doesn’t seem to be any attempt by those who approved the design to point out the difference between the two symbols.

So, is it over-reaction?  Or misplaced anger?  Perhaps.  But even if so, are those who argue that restoring the ceiling to its original look was an “obvious mistake” just snowflakes who need to sign on to the “historical” restoration?  Curmie thinks not.  Going ahead with a project you know is going to offend people is generally bad form, even if you’re “right.”

There is the whole authenticity argument, though… or is there?  First off, the ceiling had been painted over in the 1930s precisely because of the presence of those swastikas, so returning to what things looked like nearly a century ago doesn’t seem out of line. 

More significantly, Curmie remembers touring Shakespeare’s Globe in London twenty or so years ago.  The new (1997) theatre was built to be as accurate to the original as possible: there was no structural steel, the tools used were those available to carpenters in the late 16^th century, and so on.  But, for instance, whereas the thatch for the roof was authentic, it was treated with a fire retardant chemical, and sprinklers were installed (the original Globe burned down in 1613, and repeating that particular bit of history seemed contra-indicated). 

Similarly, no one today really wants to see a show in an authentic 19^th century theatre: we prefer modern electricity, plumbing, etc.  So there’s not going to be absolute authenticity.

Curmie is enough of a literalist theatre historian to call the ethical cases on both sides of the dispute to be roughly equally persuasive.  If you’re going to re-create the original ceiling, which is both inoffensive and decorative, then do it.  Except… well, you see where this debate leads to, Gentle Reader.

But there’s one other factor: the publicity.  You don’t get extra credit for scrupulous detail in a renovated building; you do catch flak for even approximating one of the most divisive and offensive symbols in human history.  This is, after all, a permanent fixture now, not a piece of set dressing in a production of The Producers.  If Jewish patrons (in particular) are made to feel uncomfortable and will avoid the space in the future, maybe there’s a problem.  In sum, then, yeah, bad idea, although Curmie does not condemn those who disagree with that assessment.

The other two stories are less ambiguous in terms of right and wrong.  So, let’s go to London for the final moments—the curtain call, in fact—for the run of Verdi’s Il Trovatore at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden.  Daniel Perry, a self-described “queer dance artist” (spare me!), unfurled a Palestinian flag in the middle of the bows.  Perry, who appears to have been in the chorus, successfully got the flag onstage despite the attempts of some backstage crew member to thwart them [they/them pronouns, not plural].

OK, this one is simple: Perry is an idiot and an asshole.  Curmie doesn’t care whether Perry’s empathy for the Palestinian cause is appropriate or not (in fact, Curmie rather agrees with them… up to a point, at least): this is not the time or place for such self-indulgent displays.  The opera’s administrators were absolutely correct to distance themselves from the puerile display and to ban them from further productions in the space.  One hopes that Mx. Perry will find that such grandstanding has some serious career consequences.

Meanwhile, there’s the kind of boorishness displayed by Amin Hashwami’s post on X in which he suggests that the opera administration is “more disturbed [by the incident] than the killing of 58000 civilians in Gaze.”  Oh, FFS, give it a rest.  It is not the responsibility of the administration, the audience, or the leading performers who had no idea of the silliness going on behind them to support your cause 24/7/365.  When you’re on stage at Covent Garden, you adhere to the company’s apolitical credo.  And if Curmie is in that audience, he’s going to label you an asshole and be less likely to support your cause.

Oh, there’s one more thing: our Daniel speaks from a place of considerable privilege.  He was trained at the hoity-toity Tring Park School for the Performing Arts, where annual tuition is a cool £48,000.  For context, that’s about five times as high as at the very reputable conservatory with which Curmie’s university has had a relationship for a quarter century or so.  This is of little relevance to the main story, but it elicited a snort from Curmie, and it might from you, as well, Gentle Reader.

But, intentionally or otherwise, Curmie saved the most horrifically hilarious of the stories for last.  Yes, it’s true that House Republicans are threatening withhold funding from the Kennedy Center if the opera house is not named for… wait for it… Melania Trump, presumably because, to quote a vulgar but not inaccurate meme, Trumps balls won’t lick themselves.  You can’t make this stuff up.

GOP pols have proven themselves the perfect storm of malevolence, cowardice, and hypocrisy.  They’ve done more harm in a variety of ways than even passing this nonsense would be, but even confirming the likes of Baby Bobby, Dr. Oz, and Pete Hegseth wasn’t as profoundly, awe-inspiringly, stupid as this.

Melania Trump has done literally nothing for the performing arts in general or for opera in particular.  She has less right to have an opera house named for her than Curmie does—he’s worked on a couple of amateur productions, after all.  The only upside here is that there has never been a clearer demonstration of the GOP legislators abrogating their responsibilities as a co-equal branch of government.  Not even passing that Big Ugly Bill or shutting down so they can avoid dealing with the absolute certainty that Dear Leader’s name is all over the Epstein files can compete.  Naming literally anything after a vulgar trophy wife known primarily for posing for some soft-core porn is beyond laughable.  Remember, this is the couple who broke tradition by not attending the Kennedy Center Awards during 45’s term.  “Appreciation of the arts,” my ass.  Curmie cannot improve on the line of comedian Andy Borowitz: “Karoline Leavitt defended the decision to rename the Kennedy Center after Melania: ‘Since President Trump took it over, the Kennedy Center has been like our nation’s First Lady: renovated and vacant.’”

Oh, and <insert late-night infomercial voice here> that’s not all!  JFK’s grandson, Jack Schlossberg, hammered the amendment and, as the kids say, brought receipts… like the federal law that prohibits this kind of grandstanding: “after December 2, 1983 no additional memorials or plaques in the nature of memorials shall be designated or installed in the public areas of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.”  There are some exceptions noted; this bill doesn’t qualify.

It’s not clear whether Schlossberg would be as adamant had the proposal been to honor someone worthy of the recognition—Jessye Norman or Leontyne Price, for example—but the fact is, we’ll never know: because no one is going to try to do that.  This is nothing but sycophancy and delusion… oh, and, as one commenter put it, the Epsteinth attempt to distract from the issue that has, for better or worse, captured the public’s attention.

So there you have it: three stories about opera and opera houses.  Curmie may not write about either subject ever again.  But… never say never.

If you’re reading this on your phone, Curmie apologizes if some of the formatting is weird.  It looks fine on Curmie’s laptop, but not on his phone, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.