This is the most recent piece in The Free Press by Niall Ferguson.
I am sorry. I’ve seen this movie before. Or rather, both of these movies. Last year.
On one side, it’s:
I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie world
Life in plastic, it’s fantastic
. . . Imagination, life is your creation
Come on Barbie, let’s go party.
And on the other, it’s:
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
Except that this isn’t Barbie versus Oppenheimer, the great moviegoers’ dilemma of 2023. It’s the presidential election of 2024, the nationwide executive search for the leader of what we once called the free world.
Since Kamala Harris became the Democratic nominee for the presidency, the architects of the Harris campaign have managed to create their own Dream House. This one isn’t bubblegum pink, but it has the policy equivalents of a pool party. “Why Kamala Harris’s New Politics of Joy Is the Best Way to Fight Fascism” is such a perfect headline. (I wonder which liberal propaganda organ will risk “Strength Through Joy”?)
While Kamala reads scripted lines, strikes staged poses, and avoids all press in a campaign of vacuousness unsurpassed in the history of American politics, on the other screen we have a different docudrama: The dark, fissile energy of Donald Trump, reviving his nightmare vision of American Carnage and taking it global.
Trump’s interview with Elon Musk last week was very Oppenheimer not just because of its tone, but because one of his central themes was the risk of nuclear war. “The biggest threat is not global warming,” Trump told Musk. “The biggest threat is nuclear warming because we have five countries now that have significant nuclear power. . . . Let me tell you, it can lead to World War III. That can lead to World War III, the Middle East can lead to. . . . We have numerous places that could end up in a World War III right now for no reason whatsoever.”
The prospect of obliterating whole cities made Oppenheimer think of the Bhagavad Gita. The memory of nearly having his own head blown off also gave Trump a religious feeling. “For those people that don’t believe in God,” he said, “I think we got to all start thinking about that. You have to. I’m a believer now. I’m more of a believer, I think.”
Yet the most striking thing about Trump-Musk was the former president’s unconcealed and not very Christian indignation at the threat Harris now poses to him. “She is terrible,” he complained near the end of the conversation. “She’s terrible, but she’s getting a free ride. I saw a picture of her in Time magazine today. She looks like the most beautiful actress ever to live. It was a drawing.”
Even if you detest Trump, you can understand his frustration. Trump got shot a month ago, and leapt to his feet yelling, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”—the image even looked like Iwo Jima. Compare and contrast with the preposterously flattering portrait of the Democratic candidate as Disney princess, gazing serenely toward a future of government-issue American joy.
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