Monthly Archives: July 2013

Freedom in Post-World War II America


In his 1941 Annual Message to Congress (aka the State of the Union address), President Franklin Roosevelt proclaimed, “In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.”[1] Christened the Four Freedoms, they included the freedoms of speech and worship, and the freedoms from want and fear. The first two freedoms, their meanings self-evident, need not be defined; the latter two, however, are less explicit. Roosevelt, in the same address, described those latter two––the freedoms from want and fear, respectively––as follows: “the economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants . . . [and] the world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression . . .” The Four Freedoms, American leaders made abundantly clear, embodied that which set the U.S. apart from and above its enemies in Europe (Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy) and the Far East (Imperial Japan), and its grudging communist ally the Soviet Union. They also “provided a crucial language of national unity . . . [for t]he message seemed to be that Americans were fighting to preserve freedoms enjoyed individually or within the family rather than in the larger public world.”[2] However, once World War II ended, the Four Freedoms were eventually subsumed into the larger framework of America’s blueprint for winning the Cold War against its ideological counterpart the Soviet Union. Freedom, at least in the initial stages of the Cold War, became less an empowerment of the individual and his/her civil liberties, and more a habit of unquestioned devotion to the American cause, and of cultural and political conformity in the face of encroaching communism. Unchecked material consumption, perhaps buoyed by the U.S.’s postwar economic prosperity, became a staple of the American way of life, so much so that Vice-President Richard Nixon, in 1959, described to Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev “a conception of freedom centered on economic abundance and consumer choice . . .”[3]; indeed, one might argue that this consumer culture sweetened America’s otherwise unpalatable crackdown on homegrown communism. The U.S., in any case, soon underwent a backlash against this constraining statism, and Americans rediscovered their political autonomy, a development that culminated in the successive civil rights and anti-Vietnam War movements of the 1950s and 60s. Read the rest of this entry

The Death of Henry Ford’s America


Born in 1863 to an Irish immigrant farmer, Henry Ford quit his parents’ estate as a young man, and became an engineer at the Edison Illuminating Company where, prone to experimentation, he became intrigued by the automobile. In 1905, he founded the Ford Motor Company which, by an innovative manufacturing process christened “Fordism,” made cars accessible to ordinary Americans. Ford, amongst others, was to blame for the indulgent consumerism that overtook the U.S. in the teens and twenties; such was America’s fascination with and dependence on the car that “[m]any families . . . [didn’t] spend anything on recreation except for the car.”[1] Only after the New York Stock Exchange crashed in late October 1929 did Ford’s star wane, as Americans disposed of their misguided regard for such technological wonders as the car, the vacuum cleaner, and the electric sewing machine. By the 1940s, that which Ford represented and stood for––the so-called “business consensus” of the Roaring Twenties, American prosperity, economic inequality, anti-labor, anti-welfare, anti-immigration, white supremacy, and isolationism––was less prevalent in the U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Depression-era populist reforms and the U.S.’s precipitous entry into World War II convinced America of the need to settle its domestic affairs and assume a more prominent international role as the West’s guiding light; Henry Ford’s America, as morally dubious as it was, was unprepared to discharge such momentous responsibilities. Read the rest of this entry

Scourge of Plenty


Man a keen shard
Shroud in blinding light
In glazed varnish––
Man a wax figure
Sheathed in splendor fine
Smile wooden manners divine

Scourge of Plenty Man’s fell mistress––
Begone your gilded ardor

Man grand in tender green
Mean and starved
Of the rudely grotesque
Savage brethren all––
Man bald and blind
From thunder black to sunny gray
Swell breast a fleeting mirage––
To lush Eden attend

Scourge of Plenty Man’s fell mistress––
Begone your gilded ardor

Man beat by folly
Till contagion’s spread embalmed
Splintered and sundered––
Man belly a sluice of ash ebullient
Sun’s burst world’s end
Ere a thirst quenched

Scourge of Plenty Man’s fell mistress––
Begone your gilded ardor

Copyright © 2013 Elliot Silverberg. All rights reserved.

Potty Training


A florid, glorified production – an altar
To a gestaltist’s cognitive urinal

A jester mired in choral drivel, in a shrine
To lyrical plaster, pickles and pajama pygmies

Swaddled in chastity white
O bestial Balladeer! O curlicued Friar!

For such bastardized zealotry and handsome brackishness
A pasture of urban flower beds is much too kind!

So consign yourself, Eleanor of the paupered greenbelt
The Rigby brigade – to a Mackenzie homily

Six feet under, the surest track to an Eden punctuated
By cries of “Bad potty! Bad potty! Bad potty!”

Copyright © 2013 Elliot Silverberg. All rights reserved.

A Rhetorical Analysis of Krauthammer’s “The Truth about Torture”


In “The Truth about Torture,” first published circa December 2005 in The Weekly Standard, syndicated columnist and conservative political commentator Charles Krauthammer argues for a concession to the Detainee Treatment Act of 2005 (DTA). Introduced by Sen. John McCain (R-AZ), the DTA effectively prohibited any and all forms of “cruel, inhuman, or degrading” treatment of those in the custody of the United States (Krauthammer 1). However, Krauthammer asserts that, in “two very circumscribed circumstances”––(1) the ticking time bomb and (2) the slower-fuse high-value terrorist––exceptions to the McCain amendment’s no-torture dictum should be allowed (7). Throughout his essay, Krauthammer rarely makes use of pathos, since his target audience of government policymakers and The Weekly Standard’s readership––which consists of the elderly, affluent, and politically active––tend not to be receptive to arguments that cater to the tender-of-heart, preferring instead the educated, empirically permissible conclusions of men of logic and science. Read the rest of this entry

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