“The world is treating me bad — misery.”
The line may not be a good example of Lennon & McCartney’s genius with a lyric, but it does capture the attitude Charles C. W. Cooke describes in his cover piece, “Against Misery,” in the new issue of National Review. Charlie has had it up to here with people — politicians, the media, ordinary Americans — who “moan, complain, grumble, cavil, and bitch” about the United States.
Could we perhaps dial down our angst just a little? If, as is mercifully common, you have been spared one of the handful of genuine problems that your grandparents might have recognized as such, then “Cheer up” is pretty solid advice, all told. I know, I know. You don’t like the president? Neither do I. And you wish that some of the laws that bind you were different? Me too. And you think that things could be better than they are? You’re right. They could. But is that really a reason to be so down on your country?
Polling suggests that the great majority of Americans are satisfied with their own lives while only a minority are satisfied with how things are going in the country in general. “Egged on by commentators, journalists, and politicians, Americans have become convinced that, outside of their own enclaves, the United States is a hellscape.” But it’s nothing of the kind.
What we have in the United States right now — it’s not a matter of if or when or after or before, but right now — is a miracle. This country — as it is. This economy — as it is. This culture — as it is. This constitutional order — as it is.
In fact, we have every reason to be happy warriors. So enough with the long faces.
Elsewhere in this issue, Bjorn Lomborg, in “Al Gore’s False Prophecy,” takes stock of An Inconvenient Truth at 20. Gore played a critical role in casting a pall of environmental doom upon the world. His 2006 movie, which “especially resonated with the elites who travel by private jet to attend global conferences,” touched off the global obsession with climate change, painting “a picture of a world besieged by floods, droughts, storms, and wildfires, with humanity on the brink.” Well, how have things turned out? Lomborg is uniquely qualified to tell us:
The film’s predictions of escalating catastrophes have largely failed to materialize, its policy prescriptions have fallen short, and the $16 trillion currently spent in pursuit of its vision has delivered scant benefits. An Inconvenient Truth encapsulates the past two decades of climate debate: heavy on emotion and costs, light on evidence and benefits.
The piece is an invaluable look at two decades of costly fear-mongering. The polar bears are doing fine.
Now, there is a species threatened with extinction today: the moderate Democrat. In “The Democratic Party Becomes Its Fringe,” Jim Geraghty notes that, under Governor Abigail Spanberger, “the Virginia state government has shifted so far to the left at such speed that Virginians would be justified in showing up in neck braces and threatening to sue for whiplash.” Democratic voters across the land should beware the progressives in moderates’ clothing.
Also in this issue:
- Andrew C. McCarthy castigates the hubris of “The Trump Administration’s Mis-Anthropic Approach to AI.”
- Rachel Lu ponders “The Pro-Life Future.”
- Shay Khatiri assesses the paradoxes of Iran in “The Future Iranians Deserve.”
- Dan McLaughlin probes the limits of political principle in “The Opposite Errors of Two American Statesmen.”
- Jeffrey Blehar, in the latest installment of Our Spacious Skies, makes “A Journey to the End of Popular Culture,” bringing his unmatched musical moxie and high-energy prose to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
And then there’s Books, Arts & Manners, a.k.a. BAM, a.k.a. “the back”: This month’s lineup of reviews and cultural commentary ranges from “A Novelist’s Search for God” (Terence Sweeney on Christopher Beha), to Guy Denton’s loving tribute to the Starman in “David Bowie’s Timeless Genius,” to Ross Douthat’s insights on what the Oscars this year tell us about our culture. There’s even more, but you’ll find out for yourself as soon as you pull the magazine from your mailbox or visit its online home.
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