"Is Political Centrism Possible?"

 The cartoon I took from the internet, with the understanding we should be able to laugh at ourselves. Nevertheless, extremism is a serious concern. As Clint Eastwood, at age 94, said in a February 20, 2025 interview, “And when you go far enough to the right you meet the same idiots coming around from the left.” And I would suggest we have more than our share in Washington (and in many state capitals and large cities) today.

 

Sydney M. Williams

www.swtotd.blogspot.com

 

Thought of the Day

“Is Political Centrism Possible?”

April 13, 2026

 

“The opinions that are held with passion are always those for which no good ground

exists; indeed the passion is the measure of the holders lack of rational conviction. 

Opinions in politics and religion are almost always held passionately.”

                                                                                                                                Bertrand Russell (1872-1970)

                                                                                                                                Skeptical Essays, 1928

 

“They told us they wanted a culture that could tolerate disagreement without treating it as heresy.”

                                                                                                                                Katherine Dee (c.1993-)

                                                                                                                                “Exit Strategy”

                                                                                                                                The Spectator World, March 30, 2026

 

In his 1920 poem, “The Second Coming,” William Butler Yeats included lines that have pertinence to our cultural and political lives today:

 

“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,...

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.”

 

Recent polls conducted by Gallup and Pew Research suggest that the number of Americans identifying as political moderates has declined, from 43% in 1992 to 34% in 2024. Not surprisingly, Pew Research notes that far-left and far-right voters contribute more money, attend more political rallies, and have higher turnout rates at elections than their more moderate brethren. In both parties, social media users with moderate views are reluctant to post about political and cultural issues. In 1992, James Carville, strategist for Bill Clinton, coined the phrase, “It’s the economy, stupid!” It helped Mr. Clinton win the election. In 2026, the phrase could be: “It’s the extremists, stupid!” In this environment it is fair to ask: Can the center hold?

 

Ironically, this is happening at a time when more Americans have been doing better financially than at any time in history. In a recent survey conducted by the American Enterprise Institute, reported on by Aimee Picchi of CBS six days ago, the “core” middle class no longer represents the largest group of Americans. Now, for the first time, that honor belongs to the upper-middle class. Yes, there are more people classified as “rich” – 3.7% in 2024, versus 0.3% in 1979 – but those categorized as “poor or near poor” have shrunk from 29.7% to 18.7%. Are things perfect? Of course not, but the trend is in the right direction.

 

Yet extremists continue to play to emotions. Extremism is not a new phenomenon that one can blame on Donald Trump and J.D. Vance or Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. It has been gestating for years. In an article from last October, Johanna Dunaway of Syracuse University’s Institute for Democracy, Journalism and Citizenship, and who sees Americans as more divided today than at any time since the Civil War, wrote: “Much of the polarization that escalated in recent decades was largely driven by misperceptions people have about ordinary partisans on the other side – the everyday people in your neighborhood or office who happen to support the other party.”  She was writing of people like us, Nixon’s “silent majority,” or Trump’s “forgotten man and woman.” Social media has aggravated the situation. While instant communication has benefits, one of its drawbacks is that people react; they don’t think. 

 

Trump-hatred plays a role. Like Andrew Jackson who became President 197 years ago, Mr. Trump elicits emotional responses far in excess of any rational policy differences. Iran is a perfect example. For forty-seven years the Country has been a theocracy run by religious fanatics. Unlike Russia or China, whose governments forbid freedom but whose leaders are conscious of the risks of nuclear annihilation, Iran’s leaders would be unafraid of unleashing a nuclear holocaust, as they seek paths to Paradise, in shahada (martyrdom). Preventing Iran from getting the bomb was (and is) in the interest of all mankind. Yet Presidents from both parties have been ineffective in stopping them, that is until Mr. Trump. Now their nuclear capabilities have been curtailed and most of their ICBMs obliterated, thanks to the President and to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Yet Iran retains the ability to deprive the world of badly needed fossil fuels and fertilizers. The Strait of Hormuz lies in international waters. It is not a toll booth. It needs to be open for trade. 

 

Yet Democrats in the House and Senate will not support any initiative begun by President Trump, no matter whether to do so would be good for us and the free world. For example, listening to Senator Chuck Schumer belittle the President, one could easily conclude that he would prefer to see Mr. Trump humiliated than for the U.S. and Israel to defeat Iran and bring peace to the Middle East.

 

And mainstream media has been no better. Their biases, along with their sanctimonious idiocy, know no bounds. CNN anchor Dana Bash, sounding like Orwell’s O’Brien in 1984, recently said: “Objective reporting now, rightly so, means explaining what someone says when its false or when it’s not right or when it’s misleading.” I understand that Mr. Trump can be coarse and rude to both friend and foe. He is not the leader I would prefer, but no other President has taken on Iran’s leaders. He speaks to them in language they understand. The United States is stronger when its people are not torn apart by self-serving politicians and media-types, but the United States and the West will be safer with Iran neutered. 

 

While I cast more blame on Democrats for this state of affairs, populist politicians in both parties, along with their partisan media allies, play to their choirs, offend their political opponents, and leave the public to make sense of their lunacy. A Rachel Maddow or a Tucker Carlson has no interest in persuading the skeptic; their only interest is in playing to their partisan (and perverted) acolytes. 

 

And yet, most people I speak with are reasonable, despite the fact we have fundamental differences in terms of the role government should play. Most appreciate the beauty of our political system and understand why it has lasted so long – the sovereignty of the people, the three independent branches of government, and the rules of laws that are constructed by Congress through debate. 

 

Is political centrism possible? Perhaps, though it seems unlikely in the near term. Nevertheless, we should keep in mind the wisdom expressed by Dwight Eisenhower at a press conference on November 17, 1963: “The middle of the road is all of the usable surface. The extremes, right and left, are in the gutters.” The success of Artemis II is reason to celebrate a unified American. Can we at least do that?

"An Easter Anecdote"

 Today is Good Friday, or Holy Friday as it is called in many places, and Sunday will be Easter. I wish you the best for this holiday, as we celebrate Christianity’s most important day. (The photo is one I took from the internet.)

 

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“An Easter Anecdote”

April 3, 2026

 

“Let all the flowers wake to life;

Let all the songsters sing;

Let everything that lives on earth

Become a joyous thing.”

                                                                                                “Easter” c.1870, Fannie Isabelle Sherrick (c.1840 - ?)

 

While the United States is a religiously pluralistic nation – with the right of free exercise of one’s religious beliefs guaranteed by the 1^st Amendment of the Constitution – we are, still, predominantly a Christian nation. And Easter is Christianity’s most important holiday. On Easter we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, redemption, and the promise of eternal life.

 

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But it is also a day we associate with rabbits and Easter egg hunts. Rabbits, with their high reproduction rates, symbolize fertility. And eggs – unless boiled, fried or poached – are indicative of new life. German folklore provides a connection. The Ostern Hase (Easter Hare) was a mythical creature that judged whether children were good or bad. Tradition has it that the Easter Hare gave colorful eggs to the former.  

 

Most of us have childhood memories of Easter, of warm spring days, church services and Easter egg hunts. The latter was a fixture in my young life. Growing up on a small farm, with artist parents, we were outside every day. Easter came when the damp earth smelt sweet and trees began to bud. Snowdrops and daffodils, if not out, were about to enter stage left. Forsythia shrubs were not far behind.

 

Our family attended the Unitarian Church in Peterborough, New Hampshire. My mother generally gave us a nickel or dime to place in the collection basket. Once, the youngest, George, reached into the basket and grabbed a handful of coins, which promptly fell on the floor. Us older children then spent the next ten or fifteen minutes scouring the floor, picking up coins and replacing them, while the minister droned on. Following Easter service we adjourned for the highlight of the day – the Easter egg hunt. My mother had hidden eggs in a field that abutted the front yard. It was a field usually occupied by goats. 

 

Neighbors and friends would come. And as we were a large family – nine children when my parents had completed their spawning duties – there was a crowd. Eggs were abundant, for our Rhode Island Reds had been busy laying in a supply. Prizes were awarded for the most eggs and for the individual who discovered the “golden” egg. One time that sticks in my mind was when my father thought he had lost my sister Jenny. She had been born in 1948 and was about a year-and-a-half old. He became angry when we all laughed instead of searching for her. Finally, my mother, through tears of laughter, told him she was on his shoulder. He did not find the incident funny.

 

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While such memories are rewarding, we should not forget the real reason we celebrate Easter – the death and resurrection of Jesus, and Earth’s rebirth as spring surges ahead.

"In college, I drove a school bus"

In yesterday’s Wall Street Journal Gerard Baker had a beautifully expressed, memorable and oh-so-true line: “...relative extremism in pursuit of persuasion is all the rage...” Political extremism has been enhanced by media extremism.

 

However, onto a lighter theme, for life goes on; this essay has nothing to do with spring or April Fools’ Day, but celebrates grandchildren and memories. I hope you enjoy it.

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“In College, I Drove A School Bus”

April 1, 2026

 

“Now I drive the school bus.”

                                                                                                              Otto Mann, school bus driver

                                                                                                              The Simpsons

 

In 2009 my youngest grandson, George, attended Christ Church Nursery School in Greenwich, Connecticut. A highlight was Grandparents Day, a way to celebrate the bond between students and their grandparents. On the day we attended each child was asked to introduce their grandparents. When it came George’s turn he was excited to introduce me as a school bus driver. I could not have been happier, knowing that he had listened to stories of my youth.

 

....................................................................................

 

George was correct. While I had spent the previous forty-two years as a stockbroker, I did drive a school bus between September 1963 and January 1965.

 

In high school and in my first two years of college I was an indifferent student, a cynic with no goals. My grandmother had paid my tuition at Williston Academy and at the University of New Hampshire. After two years I dropped out. I spent the summer working at Canada’s Falconbridge Nickel Mine, and later as a lab technician at the Metal Hydrides Corporation in Beverly, MA. Then, by a stroke of good fortune, on New Year’s Eve, I met the girl who would become my wife, and my life began to turn around. My cynicism dropped, and I had a goal, convincing Caroline (and her parents) that I would make a responsible husband.

 

I enlisted in the U.S. Army Reserves to fulfill my military obligation and then returned to college for the spring term of 1963. However, given my past academic record, my grandmother would not pay my tuition; so I was on my own. While taking classes, I worked a number of jobs, making sandwiches and writing a sports column for the Dover Daily Democrat. That summer, while also continuing my studies, I secured a job driving a school bus for the city of Dover, NH. I kept the other jobs, but driving the school bus became my most consistent source of income. In April 1964, Caroline and I married, and I continued my school bus-driving duties.

 

Transporting students, I came to know the children, and we had fun, so long as they behaved and stayed seated. However, one episode remains fixed in my memory. It was a winter morning after a snowfall, which narrowed streets with cars parked on either side. I stopped at the top of a hill. The street went down to where a right or left turn could be made, but my route went up the other side. I sat for a minute or two, calculating whether there was room for the bus to navigate between cars that lined the street on the hill beyond. The children were in no doubt that the attempt should be made. After a few  minutes, I agreed.

 

The bus picked up speed going down, knowing it would be needed to crest the hill opposite. With children cheering, “You can do it! You can do it!” down we went and up the other side. Like taking a camel through the eye of a needle there could not have been more than an inch or two to spare on either side! We made it. 

 

I am grateful to George for his introduction of me that day. It brought back memories.