'His instincts, and those of his closest advisor, Lady Macbeth — I mean Dr Lady Macbeth, his wife — were unerring' (Justin Sullivan/Getty Images)

A couple of weeks ago, an unlikely figure took the podium to deliver the commencement speech at my son’s high school graduation. I say unlikely because in a New York suburb — Montclair, New Jersey — almost entirely in the grip of progressive pieties, the speaker was not black, or female, or LGBTQ, or a climate-change activist. He was a 69-year-old cis white male working as the co-host of a programme called Power Lunch on CNBC. That is to say, he was the living antithesis of every self-righteous nostrum that the progressive elite who run the town pretend to live by. And here he was, standing at the podium after being presented with a lengthy and fawning introduction that he smugly boasted, upon grasping the microphone, he had “written myself”.
My joy at seeing my son matriculate curdled into chagrin. Over the past several years, he had often come home confused, stunned and once or twice on the verge of tears at being told — by white teachers — that, because he was white, he was “inherently racist”. This stung him with extra force because his favourite book was Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man, most of his friends were black, and the people he was closest to in school were the black administrators who instinctively grasped his status as an outsider and nourished and protected him. Meanwhile, our — I mean my wife’s and my — daughter, then in middle school, was arriving home from school asking if it was “okay” that she did not want to be a boy.
That early evening at the graduation ceremony, as the sun slowly set on America and the afternoon’s wilting heat began to ease, you could cut the irony, as they say, with a knife. Not only was the graduation speaker the very emblem of white-male hegemony, but his values seemed way out of sync with the town’s purported moral framework.
Just about every commencement speech has a story illustrating a moral precept to live by at its centre. Here was his: years ago, he knew a woman in California who was making only $40,000 a year as a teacher. By Power Lunch standards, she was a loser. But then truth poured from the heavens and opened her eyes. She took up painting and mastered, not her art, but the art of marketing her art, and she began to sell her canvases, the speaker said, for $350,000. This was the moral of the story the graduates needed to absorb. If you “invest in yourself”, the speaker explained, you will be a success. You will, in other words, stop being a loser-teacher and you will become a winner who knows how to game the marketplace and other people. The speaker finished his inspiring peroration by declaring that a college degree was of little importance in a world where personal initiative could make one a fortune, and with a flurry of references to certain celebrities who live in town, the implication being that he knew these gigantic exemplars of American success personally.
By high school, most of Montclair’s wealthy liberal elites have sent their children to private school, so though there was still a meaningful group of rich people in the audience, most of the people in attendance were on some level of the American middle-class, with at least a third of the audience belonging to the black lower middle-class or working class, or the working poor. I can only imagine what effect the speech had on those black families for whom their child’s high-school degree was an occasion of joyful coming-through, and the possibility of college something like a miracle, let alone how the speech struck the many teachers who were there. No one, however, protested. The speaker left the podium to weak applause and a bewildered silence.
My thoughts turned to that graduation ceremony as I listened to Biden implode during last Thursday’s presidential debate. The chagrin returned. Here, after nearly eight years of progressive hectoring about systemic racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and general condemnation of anyone who dares question any component of the super-accelerated revolution in mores that American liberals have wrought — here was an 81-year-old straight white male leading the country into chaos. And not just any white male. A mentally deteriorating white male who, until that moment, had the full support of the rainbow coalition of Excluded Others who had staked their credibility and authority on their opposition to straight white-male dominance.
Was it all for naught then? The enormous effort to adapt to a world where you had to tolerate and endure mediocrity, incompetence and sometimes outright malevolence and venality all because the person embodying such qualities belonged to a protected group? Was the onslaught, begun in the universities in the Nineties, against any aspect of culture or society that bore the imprint of a dead-white male hand actually the greatest instance of collective gaslighting since Pravda? In fact, after a while, I had jovially gone along with the riotous shift in paradigm since, to be honest, many of the people I dislike most in the world happen to be unqualified, untalented, unintelligent, overbearingly powerful and super-privileged white males. And here, after all that, was the inadequate, grotesquely over-rewarded white male par excellence, right there on CNN, leading the country, including the officially excluded, straight to hell.
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