ISBN: 1594200122
The Penguin Press, 2004
Michael Kelly, who was a journalist for The New York Times, The Washington Post, and The Atlantic Monthly, among other prestigious publications, was killed in April 2003 while covering the recent war in Iraq. The blurb on the back cover of Things Worth Fighting For, a selection of his columns and articles dating from 1990 to his death, was penned by New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd. Her contribution begins with the statement that "The boy could write." Which is undoubtedly true: Kelly's language is lucid, compelling, and heartfelt.
The choice of Dowd is apropos: she and Kelly are both avatars of the perennially-popular breed of political commentary that focuses more on politicians' personalities and psychological motivations than on their policies. Indeed, Kelly's profiles of Ted Kennedy, Jesse Jackson, and Richard Daley Jr. are among the book's strongest pieces. Similar pieces on the Clintons, which command an entire section of the book, contain great insights, but also seem tainted by his passionate loathing of his subjects. In general, however, Michael Kelly's observations are less vitriolic and personal than Ms. Dowd's, constrained as they were by his fundamental decency.
The Penguin Press, 2004
Michael Kelly, who was a journalist for The New York Times, The Washington Post, and The Atlantic Monthly, among other prestigious publications, was killed in April 2003 while covering the recent war in Iraq. The blurb on the back cover of Things Worth Fighting For, a selection of his columns and articles dating from 1990 to his death, was penned by New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd. Her contribution begins with the statement that "The boy could write." Which is undoubtedly true: Kelly's language is lucid, compelling, and heartfelt.
The choice of Dowd is apropos: she and Kelly are both avatars of the perennially-popular breed of political commentary that focuses more on politicians' personalities and psychological motivations than on their policies. Indeed, Kelly's profiles of Ted Kennedy, Jesse Jackson, and Richard Daley Jr. are among the book's strongest pieces. Similar pieces on the Clintons, which command an entire section of the book, contain great insights, but also seem tainted by his passionate loathing of his subjects. In general, however, Michael Kelly's observations are less vitriolic and personal than Ms. Dowd's, constrained as they were by his fundamental decency.
It is this basic decency, this reasonableness, that was Michael Kelly's hallmark, and which contains his fundamental message. The book's first piece, "King of Cool," suggests that the decline of American culture began with Frank Sinatra and his glorification of a self-interested, hedonistic, cynical attitude, and the use of the term "cool" to describe the consequent lifestyle. On Jesse Jackson, Kelly says that "You can't lead a country you can't see, and Jackson cannot really see the America that has much good in it. It is not that Jesse's America doesn't exist. It does." (p. 101)
But just as Kelly says that Jesse Jackson is defined by his difficulty seeing the America that has much good in it, Michael Kelly is defined by his difficulty in writing about the America that Jesse Jackson sees as central, the America where struggle is not rewarded, the America where times are hard, and where people suffer. He pays lip service to that other America, but only in passing-in noting Ronald Reagan's failure as a leader, for example. Despite this knowledge, Kelly falls into the same inability to see both Americas: In a Christmas column near the end of the book, Kelly writes that
But just as Kelly says that Jesse Jackson is defined by his difficulty seeing the America that has much good in it, Michael Kelly is defined by his difficulty in writing about the America that Jesse Jackson sees as central, the America where struggle is not rewarded, the America where times are hard, and where people suffer. He pays lip service to that other America, but only in passing-in noting Ronald Reagan's failure as a leader, for example. Despite this knowledge, Kelly falls into the same inability to see both Americas: In a Christmas column near the end of the book, Kelly writes that
The reality of American families is one of a mostly successful search for conventional happiness. Most men and women are quite boringly heterosexual and are not very promiscuous except perhaps a relatively brief period in youth, and most of them find lasting love. (…) Most children grow up to honor their parents, and most parents grow old in the comfort that they have, in the raising of their children, created something of irreplaceable value. It's a wonderful life, and art used to imitate it.
Why doesn't it anymore? At bottom, the fault lies in the nature of modern intellectualism, which has at its core the adolescent notion that conventional lives of conventional values are somehow wrong: that they are not merely politically improper, but are, worse, uncool-not worth living, or at least not worth examining(…) (p. 388)
Unfortunately, Kelly is unable to reconcile this portrait of America-still a worthwhile aspiration, albeit one belied as a reality by divorce statistics, among other metrics-with the America that embraces Frank Sinatra's seemingly-eternal cool; and he is unable to look critically at domestic policy as a result.
Why doesn't it anymore? At bottom, the fault lies in the nature of modern intellectualism, which has at its core the adolescent notion that conventional lives of conventional values are somehow wrong: that they are not merely politically improper, but are, worse, uncool-not worth living, or at least not worth examining(…) (p. 388)
Unfortunately, Kelly is unable to reconcile this portrait of America-still a worthwhile aspiration, albeit one belied as a reality by divorce statistics, among other metrics-with the America that embraces Frank Sinatra's seemingly-eternal cool; and he is unable to look critically at domestic policy as a result.
One thing that Michael Kelly excelled at was war reporting. He made a place for himself in the journalistic establishment as a reporter in the first Gulf War, and those pieces are well-represented in Things Worth Fighting For. His eye for precise, telling detail is excellent, and his outrage at the tortures Saddam Hussein inflicted on innocent Iraqis is still stirring more than a decade later. His disgust at U.S. soldiers refitting Kuwaiti palaces with gold bathroom fixtures is more contained, but still effective as a symbol of the moral vacuum that developed at the close of that war.
Michael Kelly's pleas for decency, for truth and virtue, are the mark of a genuinely compassionate conservatism. His arguments are well-presented and worthy of consideration, even when they rely too heavily on Kelly's natural optimism or are otherwise unconvincing. Readers interested in a viewpoint distinct from the screamers on either side of the political spectrum and well within the mainstream of contemporary political discourse should enjoy reading the book. Ultimately, Things Worth Fighting For serves as a fit memorial to those things that Michael Kelly indeed believed were worth fighting for.
Michael Kelly's pleas for decency, for truth and virtue, are the mark of a genuinely compassionate conservatism. His arguments are well-presented and worthy of consideration, even when they rely too heavily on Kelly's natural optimism or are otherwise unconvincing. Readers interested in a viewpoint distinct from the screamers on either side of the political spectrum and well within the mainstream of contemporary political discourse should enjoy reading the book. Ultimately, Things Worth Fighting For serves as a fit memorial to those things that Michael Kelly indeed believed were worth fighting for.
