BY WILLIAM F. GAVIN
Through the years (I won’t mention how many) my mind has accumulated a great deal of quotations, not in any systematic way, but through the random process of reading and listening. Many of the quotes that I remember most clearly come from sources—-old radio shows and old songs in particular–not known for providing nourishing food for the mind.
Why I remember certain quotations and not others is a mystery. I wish I could say I know great chunks of the Bible or Shakespeare or Lincoln by heart, but I don’t. Throughout my life, when I try to memorize something special, I almost always fail to do. I can hold my own in a contest to recall song lyrics written by such Golden Age giants as Johnny Mercer, Lorenz Hart, Ira Gershwin, and Cole Porter, but I think this is because the words are accompanied by irresistibly memorable tunes which can be great mnemonic devices.
In any event, during the summer, when reading and watching the gloomy news–ISIS beheadings, Putin’s land grabs, the turmoil in Ferguson, Missouri, to name only a few– some of these quotations have come back to me, unbidden, but with great force.
The rise of ISIS and its attendant horrors triggered “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!” from the grand old radio mystery series, “The Shadow.” I believe the quotation is important for two reasons:
The first reason is that the quote reminds us of the concept of evil. Evil is not just criminality or sadism or atrocity. It is an entirely different category of human behavior. When President Ronald Reagan called the Soviet Union an “evil empire”, there was quite an outcry from many liberals, especially in the media and academia. Evil? That is not a word we use in conducting diplomacy. It is too extreme. It is judgmental, and who are we to judge? Reagan has made another gaffe. But Mr. Reagan was, of course, exactly correct. Anyone familiar with the fundamental tenets of Marxism-Leninism and the history of the Soviet Union, from 1917 to 1989, has to realize that the entire enterprise was marked by a quality so abhorrent that worlds like “criminal” or “horrific” are not applicable. We are now, in this age of terror, relearning the reality of evil.
There is a quote by the great philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer that illustrates this point. I’m quoting from memory here, but it goes something like this: “In every religion which preaches that there is a Heaven and a Hell, Heaven is always portrayed in vague, poetic, ecstatic language, while Hell is depicted in specific, detailed, horrifying images. The reason for this specificity is that we already know what Hell is.”
The second reason is that evil, as the Shadow knows, lurks in the hearts of all of us. And the word “lurks” is exactly right. Evil is often hidden. We get brief glimpses of it, but ignore it (after all, it can’t happen here, can it?) until suddenly it is out there, red in tooth and claw. Evil is what might be called “an equal opportunity employer.” No nation, no ethnic or racial or economic group, no religion, no philosophy, no individual is free from the temptation toward evil. So in rightfully condemning evil in others, it is wise to remember (quoting engenders more quoting!) what Alexander Solzhenitsyn said: “Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart — and through all human hearts.”
There was other sad news this summer. When Michael Brown was shot to death by a policeman in Ferguson, Missouri, the news came suddenly, one piece of information following another, at warp speed, one theory edging another out of time and space, one view of the tragedy wholly contradicting the other, anger driving the media for days, until just about the only undisputed fact was what we had known at the very beginning: Michael Brown had been shot to death by a policeman. In order to find out what happened—as nearly as humanly possible—there needed to be time for rigorous investigation of the incident. But almost no one wanted to wait, especially the media.
As I watched this story unfold (or erupt), listening to one talking head after another telling us exactly what happened, despite the fact that not enough was known, two quotations came to mind. One was that taunting, skeptical line written for the character of Sportin’ Life in the Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess: “It ain’t necessarily so.” No matter how much we want to believe a story, a theory or a claim or a plea or a charge, we have to wait, because maybe it ain’t necessarily so. It may be so, but usually we have to wait for the truth.
Which brings me to the other saying, this one attributed to the great English jurist, Blackstone, I believe: “Truth is the daughter of time”
Sportin’ Life and Blackstone did not live in the age of the internet when old news means something that happened nanoseconds ago. But, still, the advice is good. Truth has to be discovered. What is proclaimed with absolute certainty, especially when it is accompanied by
righteous anger or outrage, may not be necessarily so. Discovery takes time and energy and dedication and courage. What we know now about what has been reported may not turn out to be the truth, even though angry people are demanding we believe it.
And just one more quote, this one from Gabriel Heatter, a World War Two news commentator, famous for the catch-phrase that began his program: “There’s good news tonight!” Even when things seemed—and were in many cases, during the war–gloomy, Heatter reminded his large audience that there was good news, news that restored our faith in human decency, if only we were patient enough to wait for it. This holds true even in our age of terror.
Editor’s Note: William F. Gavin was a speech writer for President Richard Nixon and long-time aide to former House Republican Leader Bob Michel. Among his books is his latest, Speechwright, published by Michigan State University Press.