Sunday, September 09, 2018

ANS -- Capitalism Is Not the “Market System”

Richard Wolff, who wrote this, is a renowned economist.  It is pretty easy to understand, and it is an important point to understand if you intend to argue with anyone over capitalism and socialism and markets.  The basic point is that markets and capitalism are not the same thing -- you can have either one without the other.  
--Kim


Capitalism Is Not the "Market System"

With the Democratic Socialists of America now counting 48,000 people within its membership and socialist candidates such as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez pushing for free universities and Medicare for All, Americans are once again discussing capitalism versus socialism. Fortunately, they are not doing so in the old Cold War manner of uncritically celebrating one while demonizing the other. Rather, it's a debate over the choice Americans must make now between keeping capitalism or changing the system to some form of socialism. As debates often do, this debate awakens us to problems and differences in how we understand its basic terms. For clarity and to make progress in this important debate, we need to stop conflating "capitalism" with the market. This is done far too often and on all sides of the debate.

Markets are a means of distributing resources and products, goods and services. Quid pro quo exchange defines markets: one person offers to sell to another who offers to buy at a mutually agreed ratio that may or may not be mediated by money. To say that a market exists means that such an exchange system is what accomplishes distribution. To say that a market exists says nothing about how production is accomplished or how resources are converted into products. Capitalism, on the other hand, is a description of how the production of goods and services is organized, and how the participants relate to one another in the process of production. Thus conflating "capitalism" with "the market system" loses sight of the fact that markets can exist in relation to different systems of production.

We can get at this in other words. Markets were mechanisms of distribution in societies with very different production systems. For example, in economies based on the enslavement of people, resulting in a production system involving masters and slaves, "inputs" and "outputs" — including enslaved people — were often bought and sold in markets. We might then speak of slave markets: when a slave production system coexisted with a market distribution system.

To take another example, feudal manors were production systems that juxtaposed lords and serfs. Since serfs were not slaves, no market in serfs existed. They were distributed via other, non-market systems. However, their non-human inputs and outputs could be distributed via markets, and in European feudalism often were distributed via market exchanges. Capitalist production systems – organized around the employer-employee (rather than the master-slave or lord-serf) relationship – could likewise coexist with market systems of distribution. Under capitalism, non-human inputs, labor power (the capacity to do labor), and outputs are all often distributed via market exchanges.

Thus it is confused to refer to capitalism as a "market system." Market distribution systems vary in their specific qualities according to the different production systems and systems of exploitation with which they co-exist. Capitalist markets differ from slave markets, and both differ from feudal markets, but they are all markets. Moreover, markets usually coexist and interact with state apparatuses. Those interactions are marked with greater or lesser degrees of state interventions: from rigid regulation of exchanges all the way over to "free" trade or markets where regulation is minimized or absent. The state apparatus can also abolish the market system and replace it with an alternative system of distribution.

In that event, however, capitalism is not abolished because the market has been abolished. If productive enterprises remain structured around the employer-employee relationship, they remain capitalist with or without a coexisting market system. For the state to replace markets with some administrative (e.g., planned) system of distribution says nothing about the production system. The resources and products of a capitalist system of production can be distributed via more or less state-regulated markets or via non-market distribution systems. The same applies to the resources and products of slave and feudal production systems.

Why does it matter to differentiate markets and other distribution systems from production systems? The answer emerges from the recognition that most economic systems combine one or more production systems with one or more distribution systems. For a long time, the observers of such combinations – both celebrants and critics – have tended to conflate the two systems combined, as if they were one. Indeed, defining capitalism as "the market" or the "free market" system is precisely such a conflation.

Karl Marx went to considerable lengths to differentiate critiques of market exchange from his critique of capitalist production. He believed that major social problems of his time – inequality, cyclical instability, etc. – emerged from the capitalist production system as much or more than from the market system. He was a critic of both, but he kept the criticisms separate for basic reasons of analytical clarity and revolutionary strategy.

From capitalism's beginnings, reformers have sought to soften its hard edges often by means of state interventions in markets. Minimum wages, maximum interest rates, progressive taxation, and so on are among their chosen mechanisms. More generally, reformers responded to capitalism's profit-driven distribution of wealth by having the state redistribute that wealth according to non-capitalist (non-profit) criteria.

A more extreme criticism of markets displaced them in favor of other mechanisms of distributing resources and products such as centralized or decentralized state institutions charged with distribution, private institutions similarly charged, etc. However, if and when the production system continued to juxtapose employers and employees, all the different distribution systems discussed above – "free" market, regulated market, and non-market – coexist and interact with a capitalist production system.

To the extent that capitalism's problems – inequality, instability (cycles/crises), etc. – stem in part from its production relationships, reforms focused exclusively on regulating or supplanting markets will not succeed in solving them. For example, Keynesian monetary policies (focused on raising or lowering the quantity of money in circulation and, correspondingly, interest rates) do not touch the employer-employee relationship, however much their variations redistribute wealth, regulate markets, or displace markets in favor of state-administered investment decisions. Likewise, Keynesian fiscal policies (raising or lowering taxes and government spending) do not address the employer-employee relationship.

Keynesian policies also never ended the cyclical instability of capitalism. The New Deal and European social democracy left capitalism in place in both state and private units (enterprises) of production notwithstanding their massive reform agendas and programs. They thereby left capitalist employers facing the incentives and receiving the resources (profits) to evade, weaken and eventually dissolve most of those programs.

It is far better not to distribute wealth unequally in the first place than to re-distribute it after to undo the inequality. For example, FDR proposed in 1944 that the government establish a maximum income alongside a minimum wage; that is one among the various ways inequality could be limited and thereby redistribution avoided. Efforts to redistribute encounter evasions, oppositions, and failures that compound the effects of unequal distribution itself. Social peace and cohesion are the victims of redistribution sooner or later. Reforming markets while leaving the relations/organization of capitalist production unchanged is like redistribution. Just as redistribution schemes fail to solve the problems rooted in distribution, market-focused reforms fail to solve the problems rooted in production.

Since 2008, capitalism has showed us all yet again its deep and unsolved problems of cyclical instability, deepening inequality and the injustices they both entail. Their persistence mirrors that of the capitalist organization of production. To successfully confront and solve the problems of economic cycles, income and wealth inequality, and so on, we need to go beyond the capitalist employer-employee system of production. The democratization of enterprises – transitioning from employer-employee hierarchies to worker cooperatives – is a key way available here and now to realize the change we need.

Worker coops democratically decide the distribution of income (wages, bonuses, benefits, profit shares, etc.) among their members. No small group of owners and the boards of directors they choose would, as in capitalist corporations, make such decisions. Thus, for example, it would be far less likely that a few individuals in a worker coop would earn millions while most others could not afford to send children to college. A democratic worker coop decision on the distribution of enterprise income would be far less unequal than what typifies capitalist enterprises. A socialism for the 21st century could and should include the transition from a capitalist to a worker-coop-based economic system as central to its commitments to less inequality and less social conflict over redistribution.

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Saturday, September 08, 2018

ANS -- How a TV Sitcom Triggered the Downfall of Western Civilization

This presents an interesting concept.  I believe that things like popular TV programs do tell people how to think about various things, without them noticing.  The first step in resisting this form of brainwashing is to notice it.  Mind you, everyone thinks they themselves are not susceptible to this.  but you are.  We all are.  We are social animals, and agreeing with the attitudes of those around us is part of that.  
Bad word alert.
--Kim


MEMBER FEATURE STORY

How a TV Sitcom Triggered the Downfall of Western Civilization

The one where we retain our sanity in a stupid world

Go to the profile of David Hopkins

Photo by J. Delvalle/NBC/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images

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Iwant to discuss a popular TV show my wife and I have been binge-watching on Netflix. It's the story of a family man, a man of science, a genius who fell in with the wrong crowd. He slowly descends into madness and desperation, led by his own egotism. With one mishap after another, he becomes a monster. I'm talking, of course, about Friends and its tragic hero, Ross Geller.

You may see it as a comedy, but I cannot laugh with you. To me, Friendssignals a harsh embrace of anti-intellectualism in America, where a gifted and intelligent man is persecuted by his idiot compatriots. And even if you see it from my point of view, it doesn't matter. The constant barrage of laughter from the live studio audience will remind us that our own reactions are unnecessary, redundant.

The theme song itself is filled with foreboding, telling us that life is inherently deceptive, career pursuits are laughable, poverty is right around the corner, and oh yeah, your love life's D.O.A. But you will always have the company of idiots. They will be there for you.

Don't I feel better?

Maybe I should unpack this, for the uninitiated. If you remember the 1990s and early 2000s, and you lived near a television set, then you remember Friends. Friends was the Thursday night primetime, "must-see-TV" event that featured the most likable ensemble ever assembled by a casting agent: all young, all middle class, all white, all straight, all attractive (but approachable), all morally and politically bland, and all equipped with easily digestible personas. Joey is the goofball. Chandler is the sarcastic one. Monica is obsessive-compulsive. Phoebe is the hippie. Rachel, hell, I don't know, Rachel likes to shop. Then there was Ross. Ross was the intellectual and the romantic.

Eventually, the Friends audience — roughly 52.5 million people — turned on Ross. But the characters of the show were pitted against him from the beginning (consider episode 1, when Joey says of Ross: "This guy says hello, I wanna kill myself.") In fact, any time Ross would say anything — about his interests, his studies, his ideas — whenever he was mid-sentence, one of his "friends" was sure to groan and say how boring Ross was, how stupid it is to be smart, and that nobody cares. Cue the laughter of the live studio audience. This gag went on, pretty much every episode, for 10 seasons. Can you blame Ross for going crazy?

And like a Greek tragedy, our hero is caught in a prophecy that cannot be avoided. The show's producers, akin to the immutable voice of the gods, declared that Ross must end up with Rachel, the one who shops. Honestly, I think he could've done better.

Why such sympathy for Ross?


The show ended in 2004. The same year that Facebook began, the year that George W. Bush was re-elected to a second term, the year that reality television became a dominant force in pop culture, with American Idolstarting an eight-year reign of terror as the No. 1 show in the U.S., the same year that Paris Hilton started her own "lifestyle brand" and released an autobiography. And Joey Tribbiani got a spin-off TV show. The year 2004 was when we completely gave up and embraced stupidity as a value. Just ask Green Day; their album American Idiot was released in 2004, and it won the Grammy for Best Rock Album. You can't get more timely. The rejection of Ross marked the moment when much of America groaned, mid-sentence, at the voice of reason.

Yes, my theory is that Friends may have triggered the downfall of western civilization. You might think I'm crazy. But to quote Ross: "Oh, am I? Am I? Am I out of my mind? Am I losing my senses?" Did you know the song that originally accompanied the Friends pilot episode was R.E.M.'s "It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)." A blissful song with an apocalyptic message that goes largely ignored.

I was a teacher in 2004. I coached our school's chess club. I saw how my students were picked on, bullied. I tried my best to defend them, but I couldn't be everywhere. My students were smart, huge nerds, and they were in hostile, unfriendly territory. Other students would be waiting outside my room to ambush the chess club members who met in my room every day at lunch. During my tenure as a teacher, I gained the reputation of being a slayer of bullies and defender of nerds. I promise you: bullies can be mean, but they knew Mr. Hopkins was much worse.

Maybe intellectuals have always been persecuted and shoved in lockers, but something in my gut tells me we're at a low point — where social media interaction has replaced genuine debate and political discourse, where politicians are judged by whether we'd want to have a beer with them, where scientific consensus is rejected, where scientific research is underfunded, where journalism is drowning in celebrity gossip.

I see Kim Kardashian's ass at the top of CNN.com, and I am scared.

Maybe it's all harmless fun. Like the good-spirited laughter of a live studio audience? Maybe. But I am sincerely worried we have not done enough to cultivate intellectual curiosity within our culture.


Fortunately, there's a resistance forming. People with grit, who aren't afraid to begin a sentence with "Did you know…" These are the Rosses of the world. I saw them in my chess club. And I see them in my city, hiding at the art museum, crouching at used book stores, exchanging sideways glances at the public libraries and coffee houses, and sneaking around at our schools, community colleges, and universities.

There was no hope for Ross. He went insane, and yeah, he did get annoying.

So, how do we retain our sanity in a dumb, dumb world? I wouldn't be a good teacher if I didn't come prepared with a few ideas.

No. 1: Read a fucking book.

Something special happens when you set aside the inane distractions of modern culture and immerse yourself in a novel. You open yourself up to new ideas, new experiences, new perspectives. It's an experiment in patience and mindfulness. The New School for Social Research in New York proved that reading literature improves empathy. It's true. Reading makes you less of a jerk. So, read often. Read difficult books. Read controversial books. Read a book that makes you cry. Read something fun. But read.

No. 2: Learn something.

Your brain is capable of so much. Feed it. Learn something new. The greatest threat to progress is the belief that something is too complex to fix. Poverty is permanent. Racism will always exist. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is too difficult to understand. The public education system is broken. Educate yourself, so you can be part of the conversation. Learn something scientific, something mathematic. Explore philosophy. Study paleontology. Try to learn a new language. You don't even have to make fluency your goal, just get a few more words in your head. Listen to an educational podcast. Professors from colleges — such as Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Stanford — are offering their lectures online for free. Think of what you could learn. One of my greatest challenges as a teacher was convincing students they were smart after someone had told them they were dumb.

No. 3: Stop buying so much shit.

This may seem like a non sequitur, but I'm convinced consumer culture and idiot culture are closely linked. Simplify your life. Idiocy dominates our cultural landscape because it sells more Nike tennis shoes and Big Macs. When we thoughtfully consider what we bring into our home, we are less likely to be manipulated by empty impulses.

And finally: Protect the nerds.

A computer programmer from Seattle is doing more to alleviate world poverty, hunger, and disease through the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation than any other person in America right now. Nerds create vaccines. Nerds engineer bridges and roadways. Nerds become teachers and librarians. We need those obnoxiously smart people, because they make the world a better place. We can't have them cowering before a society that rolls their eyes at every word they say. Ross needs better friends.


An earlier version of this article was shared as a spoken essay for Naked Stage in Dallas, and then published on D Magazine's Frontburner blog.

Go to the profile of David Hopkins
WRITTEN BY

David Hopkins

Author of short story collection WE MISS ALL THE GREAT PARTIES. Work in Chicago Tribune, D Magazine, Dallas Morning News, and Smart Pop. >> thatdavidhopkins.com


ANS -- 11 Warning Signs of Gaslighting

A fairly short article on what to look out for in case someone is trying to gaslight you.  
--Kim


11 Warning Signs of Gaslighting

Gaslighting is a manipulation tactic used to gain power. And it works too well.

Posted Jan 22, 2017

123rf Stock Photo/Standard License
Source: 123rf Stock Photo/Standard License

Gaslighting is a tactic in which a person or entity, in order to gain more power, makes a victim question their reality. It works much better than you may think. Anyone is susceptible to gaslighting, and it is a common technique of abusers, dictators, narcissists, and cult leaders. It is done slowly, so the victim doesn't realize how much they've been brainwashed. For example, in the movie Gaslight (1944), a man manipulates his wife to the point where she thinks she is losing her mind. 

People who gaslight typically use the following techniques:  

1. They tell blatant lies.

You know it's an outright lie. Yet they are telling you this lie with a straight face. Why are they so blatant? Because they're setting up a precedent. Once they tell you a huge lie, you're not sure if anything they say is true. Keeping you unsteady and off-kilter is the goal. 

2. They deny they ever said something, even though you have proof. 

You know they said they would do something; you know you heard it. But they out and out deny it. It makes you start questioning your reality—maybe they never said that thing. And the more they do this, the more you question your reality and start accepting theirs. 

3. They use what is near and dear to you as ammunition. 

They know how important your kids are to you, and they know how important your identity is to you. So those may be one of the first things they attack. If you have kids, they tell you that you should not have had those children. They will tell you'd be a worthy person if only you didn't have a long list of negative traits. They attack the foundation of your being. 

4. They wear you down over time.

This is one of the insidious things about gaslighting—it is done gradually, over time. A lie here, a lie there, a snide comment every so often...and then it starts ramping up. Even the brightest, most self-aware people can be sucked into gaslighting—it is that effective. It's the "frog in the frying pan" analogy: The heat is turned up slowly, so the frog never realizes what's happening to it. 

5. Their actions do not match their words.

When dealing with a person or entity that gaslights, look at what they are doing rather than what they are saying. What they are saying means nothing; it is just talk. What they are doing is the issue. 

6. They throw in positive reinforcement to confuse you. 

This person or entity that is cutting you down, telling you that you don't have value, is now praising you for something you did. This adds an additional sense of uneasiness. You think, "Well maybe they aren't so bad." Yes, they are. This is a calculated attempt to keep you off-kilter—and again, to question your reality. Also look at what you were praised for; it is probably something that served the gaslighter. 

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7. They know confusion weakens people. 

Gaslighters know that people like having a sense of stability and normalcy. Their goal is to uproot this and make you constantly question everything. And humans' natural tendency is to look to the person or entity that will help you feel more stable—and that happens to be the gaslighter.  

8. They project.

They are a drug user or a cheater, yet they are constantly accusing you of that. This is done so often that you start trying to defend yourself, and are distracted from the gaslighter's own behavior. 

9. They try to align people against you.

Gaslighters are masters at manipulating and finding the people they know will stand by them no matter what—and they use these people against you. They will make comments such as, "This person knows that you're not right," or "This person knows you're useless too." Keep in mind it does not mean that these people actually said these things. A gaslighter is a constant liar. When the gaslighter uses this tactic it makes you feel like you don't know who to trust or turn to—and that leads you right back to the gaslighter. And that's exactly what they want: Isolation gives them more control.  

StockLite/Shutterstock
Source: StockLite/Shutterstock

10. They tell you or others that you are crazy.

This is one of the most effective tools of the gaslighter, because it's dismissive. The gaslighter knows if they question your sanity, people will not believe you when you tell them the gaslighter is abusive or out-of-control. It's a master technique.  

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11. They tell you everyone else is a liar.

By telling you that everyone else (your family, the media) is a liar, it again makes you question your reality. You've never known someone with the audacity to do this, so they must be telling the truth, right? No. It's a manipulation technique. It makes people turn to the gaslighter for the "correct" information—which isn't correct information at all.

The more you are aware of these techniques, the quicker you can identify them and avoid falling into the gaslighter's trap.  


Monday, September 03, 2018

ANS -- John McCain was complex. His legacy warrants critical discussion

This is a fairly short article, purportedly about John McCain, but really about complexity, by the inimitable Rebecca Solnit.  
--Kim


John McCain was complex. His legacy warrants critical discussion

In the wake of his death, too many fell into the simplistic binary thinking that plagues our country and steamrolls politics

 "With [McCain's] death, the last shreds of conscience in his party have gone, though they were often only present in him in flickers of conflicted, contradicted impulses." Photograph: Rok Rakun/Pacific Press via ZUMA Wire/REX/Shutterstock

Icome not to praise Senator John McCain nor to bury him – plenty of people are taking care those things – but to describe him and our problems with complex people and complex descriptions. I found McCain a fascinating, frustrating character who often expressed high ideals and as often betrayed them. That is something quite different than, say, the ruthlessly mercenary instincts of Mitch McConnell or the transparently self-serving amorality of Paul Ryan. With his death, the last shreds of conscience in his party have gone, though they were often only present in him in flickers of conflicted, contradicted impulses.

McCain seemed to believe in a gallant idea of what a soldier, a politician and an American should be. Though his version was often deeply at odds with mine, it appeared to be a genuine set of ideals. His life was a public performance of his meandering path to and from and around those ideals, and those trajectories were fascinating to watch, with the sense of some Faustian private struggle behind the public drama. He was often called a maverick and embraced the term, which comes from a Mr Maverick of Texas who didn't brand his calves. The term is now used to mean a dissident, an untamed soul, someone who doesn't run with the herd, but McCain's orthodoxies jostled with his unorthodoxies, and he often ended up back in the Republican corral with the rest of the conservative cattle. Or on the other side after all, regretting Sarah Palin, regretting his consent to the Iraq war, which he admitted was a disaster. At this point in political history even the admission of error is an endangered species.

In the wake of his death last week, too many people fell into the simplistic binary thinking that plagues our country and steamrolls its politics: that he had been good and thus nothing bad could be said of him, or the opposite, that he had done evil and nothing good could be admitted of him, and if nothing good could be said of him nothing at all could be thought about him. This not only refused an accurate picture of a complex figure, but the possibility of complex conversation, and perhaps even that habit of appraising and evaluating and reaching ambiguous, ambivalent conclusions we call thinking.

It's a far wider problem than one of writing the obituary of a rightwing icon, a habit that seeks to reduce all things to something as simple and binary as computer code and divides the world into sides or categories beyond which nothing remains to be said or thought. Good or evil, swipe right or left, like or dislike, ours or theirs– as George W Bush infamously declared on 20 September 2001, "Either you are with us or you are with the terrorists," which is the authoritarian way to say shut up and fall in line.

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Our country was founded in conflict – not the ordinary conflict of the Revolutionary war, but the conflict between Thomas Jefferson's ideals and his actions as an owner and exploiter of other human beings. You can dismiss the slavery and uphold the ideals, or vice versa, but an understanding of who we have been and how we got here means recognizing both and how they inflect each other. And how often we use the master's tools to dismantle the master's house, including using the ideals in the constitution against the founding fathers' many shortcomings on human rights.

It means recognizing Abraham Lincoln's greatness and his monstrous policies toward the Lakota, recognizing that we have been neither – as American exceptionalism would have it – the best of nations, or the worst, but a magnificent, unresolved pile of conundrums and paradoxes and populations at odds with each other and ideals that are more often held up for admiration than they're upheld. Those ideals are lived out best by rebels and dissidents, not in the Senate, but in the streets and jails and strikes. It's when those people – those true mavericks – succeed in those marginal arenas that the causes are eventually championed in the Senate.

We hear a lot about bitter partisanship now. Perhaps it begins with the willingness to reduce into simple categories or the refusal to have thoughts that reveal how leaky those categories are. Or perhaps it's about the desire to have heroes, villains and simple dramas, to live in a world of cartoons where no thought needs to be more complex than a headline, or the fact that so much of our conversation now is uninflected headlines, tweets, texts and soundbites.

That is, partisan absolutism may begin in oversimplification and devout faith in categories. You can think McCain was wholly evil and still have nuanced ideas about him, because the differences between, say, Pol Pot and Joseph Stalin, or Jeff Bezos and Rupert Murdoch, are worth exploring. If we want to be able to perceive and describe the world, our conversations have to have room for the occasional harmful acts of people we like and the beneficial acts of those we don't.

McCain did a lot of harm by my estimation, and some of it he did because he genuinely believed that the collateral damage was worth it for some good cause. He believed devoutly in war and the military, and the military was perhaps the constituency he served most faithfully. He was one of the grandest characters in the theater of Congress, and his performance was first of all theater, sometimes intentionally so – as when, last year, he came into the Senate chamber at the last minute and, with a thumbs-down gesture like that of a Roman emperor, ended the Trump plan to kill the Affordable Care Act (which he had, of course, opposed when it was put forth). As Jordan Weissman wrote in Slate, his veto was "delivered in front of a sulking Mitch McConnell, elicited a gasp from the Senate floor and brought months of frantic work by the GOP to a crashing stop".

Then, more quietly, he voted to repeal the individual mandate, condemning millions to the loss of their health insurance after all. He stood up for the rights of the disabled, but also the privileges of the super-wealthy. He was suspicious of LGBT people in the military right through 2010, but last year spoke up for the rights of trans people in the military, perhaps to smack down Trump's attempt at a trans ban, perhaps because the generals opposed that ban. (In 2010, Think Progress noted that he'd had held 11 different positions on the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy.) Sometimes his positions seemed to be about fights within his own party – with Bush Jr, who he had been defeated by and whose torture policies he ferociously opposed – and then with Trump, who he thoroughly and repeatedly denounced, perhaps most scathingly and recently for Trump's groveling before Vladimir Putin in Helsinki.

His noble stances were more visible than his compromises and his go-alongs with vicious policies on Native rights, voting rights, economic inequality, and more. Perhaps it was that the theatrical McCain was out of joint with the pragmatic McCain, but that performance was riveting.

Sometimes he betrayed and then repented – thus he was one of the Keating Five, caught up in protecting a corrupt savings and loan that collapsed, and then he was, with the liberal senator Russ Feingold, the co-author of the McCain-Feingold campaign finance reform act of 2002. That bill was also about his capacity to take bipartisan action, to work with colleagues across the aisle, and he counted Democrats as his friends. This made him a relic of an age before the Tea Party movement brought total war to the Republicansas their gospel and strategy. Sometimes he did good things and then slid away from them. He was early in the 2000s a co-sponsor of important climate change legislation, BUT by the time of his presidential campaign in 2008 he was so fine with his party's climate denial and inaction that he brought in Sarah "Drill Baby Drill" Palin as his running mate.

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What captivated me at times was the sense of McCain as a tragic figure, someone who knew what he ought to do when he was not doing it as well as when he was. In his 2008 concession speech he sounded relieved to have escaped the nightmarish grip of his own ambition and all the contortions it had forced him into, including the recruitment of Palin, who he later repudiated.

He was also the protagonist of a prison epic, and the extremity of his suffering set him apart from his peers. His years as a prisoner of war, captured while his country was bombing civilians in a terrible war of aggression against the people of Vietnam, is central to the story of who he was, and it excuses and explains nothing but it does round out a story that seems epic as well as troubling. I don't want people to appraise him for his sake, but for our own: for our ability to tell irreducible stories, to see the world and its players in their full complexity.

On Twitter, the national security journalist Benjamin Wittes tells a story from 15 years ago when he saw McCain introduce Anne Appelbaum's book Gulags at the Polish Embassy in Washington DC. Wittes writes, "While McCain had many thoughts about the book, he said that the part that really hit him in the gut was Anne's description of prisoner tapping codes – by which prisoners would tap on cell walls in specific patterns to make out letters to communicate with those in adjacent cells." He described the version he and his fellow prisoners used. "Then he paused and said that he still dreamed in that code sometimes. And then he tapped."

The room was silent.