Alexander Cockburn
has died. Nearly thirty years ago, I began borrowing copies of The Nation magazine from a friend in
order to read Cockburn’s weekly column. In a publication then notable for its
determination not to completely
surrender to Cold War hysteria, Cockburn stood out as a stubborn and fearless
champion of reason and fidelity to leftist values—not the values that pass as
leftist today, but genuine values of internationalism and advocacy for those on
the bottom.
Later I learned of
Cockburn’s familial roots: his father was the estimable Claud Cockburn who
wrote for the UK Daily Worker, was a
partisan reporter on the Republican side during the Spanish Civil War, and
served as a thorn in the side of the puffed-up English upper classes for most
of his life.
Claud authored the
novel that served as the basis for the obscure, but delightful John Huston
movie, Beat the Devil, a cinematic
parody that relentlessly poked fun at nearly every stereotype and prejudice.
Alexander’s writing
carried the same level of disdain for self-satisfaction and smugness. Cockburn,
the elder, famously remarked that one
should “Never believe anything until it has been officially
denied.” Alexander Cockburn’s writing reflected even broader truths: Never
believe anything uttered by your nation’s public officials or their media hand
maidens. And always regard with a measure of respect the claims of their
opponents. This motto would serve the journalism profession far better than the
usual hypocritical nonsense about fairness and objectivity. It would also well
serve a public that readily identifies the media lies when it is itself the
specific target, but exhibits a blind, groundless, and sheep-like trust of the
media on other matters (think of Syria!).
In
that spirit, Alexander Cockburn’s column pierced the inflated egos of wind
bags, charlatans, and courtiers from Henry Kissinger through the financiers
Jamie Dimon and Robert Diamond, the subjects of his final column.
I
don’t know that Alexander considered himself a Marxist, though he acknowledged
that his father flirted with and perhaps embraced the views of the old Moor.
Certainly Alexander came closer than any other contemporary writer in English,
despite his occasional eccentricities, to the acerbity and intolerance for
hum-buggery of our beloved KM.
As
The Nation moved away from its
legacy of popular front progressivism and anti-anti-Communism
and towards drawing-room liberalism, Cockburn became more of an internal
critic. He began to take shots at Nation
writers and columnists who were more comfortable reporting conversations at
dinner parties than in reporting on Appalachia or big city ghettos. He rightly
called out writers whose views seemed to unerringly march in lock step with the
Democratic Party leadership.
Though
The Nation editors would deny it,
his punishment was to see his popular column reduced from every issue to every
other issue.
Nonetheless
his column persisted despite the magazine’s further ideological acceptance of
the tighter and tighter Democratic Party leash. In recent years, the taming of The Nation forced me to discontinue my
twenty-five-year subscription when I concluded that even Cockburn could not
hold me.
But
a ten-dollar desperate renewal offer (the way of all print magazines starving
for support) brought me back recently, a happy move since it delivered me
Alexander Cockburn’s last column. But o how far The Nation has sunk! The funeral issue contained three tortured and embarrassingly
pandering defenses of Obama’s grossly misnamed Affordable Care Act (four if you count Katha Pollit’s lame
cheer-leading in her column: “Obamacare(s) for Women”), all a transparent call
to vote for Obama in the fall election. Poor Alexander Cockburn’s last column
was sandwiched between these crude political ads.
The
rest of the issue included a bizarre “vindication” of right-wing scumbag David
Frum (his mother was a feminist!), a pathetically and needlessly “scholarly”
critique of Charles Murray’s scurrilous attack on working class white males,
and a Princeton professor’s paean to Jurgen Habermas’ vapid pontifications on
the meaning and future of the European Union.
Pity
poor Eric Foner, who joins Cockburn with an article in such dreary company.
Needless
to say, I will not be renewing my Nation
subscription (unless the price comes down even further!). I’ve had enough and,
with Cockburn gone, I can catch the occasional significant article from friends
on the ‘net.
I
will miss Alexander Cockburn—more than a little. I regret that I never followed
him closely on Counterpunch, but I
trust that its archives are full of his sterling and stirring writing. I’m sure
collections of his essays and articles will soon appear. I look forward to
reading them. I hope others will as well.
Zoltan Zigedy
zoltanzigedy@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment