Q & A, Hosted by Jay Nordlinger

Maybe I could quote from my introduction:… our guest today is one of my favorites: Steven B. Smith, the scholar of political philosophy. He is a Chicagoan—not a North Shore kid but a gritty South Sider, who would earn his Ph.D. at the local school: the University of Chicago. Since 1984, he has taught at Yale, where he is the Alfred Cowles Professor of Political Science.He is the author of many books, including Modernity and Its Discontents. Back in 2021, we talked about his then new book Reclaiming Patriotism in an Age of Extremes.He has now written On Statesmanship. It is a beautiful, learned book, which distills years of study and thinking. And raw human experience, I would say.For Professor Smith, I have many questions, starting with “What is statesmanship? Who is a statesman? Not just any politician or officeholder, right?” We talk about a range of particular statesmen, including Pericles, FDR, and Lee Kuan Yew.What was the impetus for this book? Why did Smith write it? I will abbreviate and paraphrase his answer:For two reasons, really. One is relevant to our public life, and the other is more relevant to academic life.Clearly, we are suffering from a dearth of great leaders—not just in America, but in many other places as well. In the last generation, there has been a rise of authoritarian leaders, but no rise on the other side: no rise of true statesmen.We have seen a slow degradation of our politics and our public life. This book is an attempt to say, great democracies need great leaders—and we have lost the language for it. We have lost sight of what the qualities for great leadership are. We barely know how to talk about it.On to academia:From the beginning, philosophers have discussed the concept of the statesman. The history of philosophy is replete with profound reflections on statesmanship.Think of Plato’s philosopher-king. And Machiavelli’s prince. And Rousseau’s lawgiver. And Weber’s thoughts on charisma, etc.That has all but disappeared from the academy. We think a lot about democracy, and the problems of democracy, but not very much about leaders in a democracy. If you think that democracies don’t require great leaders—think again.If there is one thing that keeps Steven Smith from despair, it’s this: you never know who will rise, and how. You never know who’s out there, to save the day—or at least to make the day better than it would have been.Who would ever have identified Lincoln? Yet “he both rose and mastered the occasion,” says Smith.He also talks about de Gaulle:Nobody had any idea who he was. He was a military officer, with no public visibility. When he spoke over the BBC from England, people didn’t even believe that that was a real name: “de Gaulle.” They thought it was made up. Yet through force of his personality and intellect, he created Free France and then the modern state.At the end of our Q&A, I bring up a mysterious and touchy subject: “American exceptionalism.” I have always believed in it, and counted on it, but my faith is waning. And I’m not even sure what it is.I will give Smith’s (excellent) answer—again, in my abbreviation and paraphrase:I’m a little bit hesitant to put it this way, but I’ll go ahead: I believe that, in many ways, “American exceptionalism” is our foundational myth.The Founders believed that they were creating something new and different. Hamilton said, We’re going to prove that a society doesn’t have to rely on accident and chance. It can be created through reflection and choice. This will be a different kind of society from others in the past.There’s an old joke. Someone asks a philosopher, “Do you believe in free will?” He answers, “Of course I do. I have no choice.”I feel a bit that way about American exceptionalism. Of course I believe in it—we have no choice. We have to regard ourselves as an exceptional people who are engaged in a mission that is a light unto the nations. We are a city on a hill …This is a long conversation—like a seminar—but I feel it is not long enough. You can learn a great deal from Steven Smith, without paying Yale tuition. And the price of the book, On Statesmanship? Worth every penny.Q&A is the podcast of this site, Onward and Upward. The site is supported by readers and listeners. To receive new articles and episodes—and to support the work of the writer and podcaster—become a free or paid subscriber. Many thanks to you. Get full access to Onward and Upward at www.jaynordlinger.com/subscribe

Listeners to Q&A are familiar with Manfred Honeck, and with Rainer Honeck, too. The latter is a concertmaster of the Vienna Philharmonic. I interviewed him last summer on behalf of the Salzburg Festival Society—listen to our conversation here. Rainer Honeck is now retiring from the Philharmonic, though his musical activities will continue.Manfred Honeck, I have spoken with several times, and he is a favorite guest of our program. He was once a member of the Vienna Philharmonic—a violist (though his primary instrument had been the violin). He then turned to conducting. He and Rainer and their siblings are Austrian through and through, but Manfred has been in Pittsburgh since 2008, serving as the music director of the PSO, the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra.At the Salzburg Festival this summer, Honeck has been conducting an opera by Richard Strauss, one of the founders of the festival. That opera is Ariadne auf Naxos. In the pit has been the Vienna Phil, including one Rainer Honeck. So, these have been special days for the brothers.As I remark to Manfred in our new Q&A, their parents would have loved to be in the house.I have podcasted with Maestro Honeck, once more, on behalf of the SFS, the Salzburg Festival Society. He and I cover a fair amount of ground—and I begin with an odd question.Like most people, or many people, I love the music of Richard Strauss: his tone poems, operas, songs, etc. (I especially like his songs. So did he, by the way. Toward the end of his life, Strauss told Hans Hotter, the German bass-baritone, “I like my songs best.”) I must say, I have never warmed up to Ariadne auf Naxos.Does Maestro Honeck like it?Yes, he does. And he relates a story.Years ago, he was in the orchestra—the Vienna Philharmonic—for Ariadne. This summer, a violist in the orchestra showed him something touching. The violist in question was using the same score used by Honeck himself. It’s a tradition in the orchestra to sign your name in a score. Manfred Honeck and his stand partner did this, all those years ago.In our Q&A, I ask Honeck when he first started at the Salzburg Festival. It happened in a memorable, even exciting, way. Honeck was a substitute in the Philharmonic, as I understand it—not yet a full-time member. And he got an emergency call: A member of the first violin section had fallen ill. Could Honeck come in and take his place?Yes, he could. So, that night, he played in Der Rosenkavalier—another Strauss opera—under Herbert von Karajan (a legendary conductor).In Pittsburgh, Honeck has a contract that runs through 2033. That would be a 25-year tenure. Such longevity is rare in a music directorship these days. Honeck and I discuss this issue.We also discuss differences in audiences—Europe vs. America. Europeans tend to applaud on an on. The performers come back for several curtain calls. We Americans tend to jump to our feet, immediately, and give a burst of applause. Then we bolt for the exits.Does Honeck mind? Not at all. He is a broad-minded fellow.In every generation, people worry that classical music is fading away—that no one is interested anymore. I have often quoted Charles Rosen, the late pianist-scholar: “The death of classical music is perhaps the oldest tradition of classical music.”So I know I’m embodying a stereotype when I say: I’m worried as hell, especially about America—the health of classical music on our shores. It seems like music and high culture in general are going downward, fast.Manfred Honeck is not unconcerned. Music education needs to be shored up (or even reestablished). But he says, Have faith in music. Trust music to draw people, as it always has.I can buy that.What music is Manfred Honeck especially close to these days? He speaks movingly about Bruckner and Mahler. And, at the end of our conversation, I ask him what pieces he would like to conduct that he has not yet conducted. What is he looking forward to? Does he have anything in reserve?In interviews over the years, Riccardo Muti, the Italian maestro, has told me that he waited a long time to conduct Beethoven’s Ninth. He waited until he was ready. He waited an even longer time to conduct Beethoven’s Missa solemnis. And he waited still longer to conduct the Bruckner Eighth.That was two years ago, when Muti was 83.Honeck understands the Italian maestro very well. He himself is waiting to conduct Mahler’s Eighth. And a masterpiece of Bach: the St. Matthew Passion.It would be good to be present, when Honeck tackles these works. Meantime, I know you will enjoy this Q&A with him. He is a superb musician, a thoughtful interviewee, and a real gent.Q&A is the podcast of this site, Onward and Upward. The site is supported by readers and listeners. To receive new articles and episodes—and to support the work of the writer and podcaster—become a free or paid subscriber. Many thanks to you. Get full access to Onward and Upward at www.jaynordlinger.com/subscribe

Alexander Malofeev is a Russian pianist, born in 2001. He left Russia in 2022 and lives in Berlin. Last night, he played a recital at the Salzburg Festival. The day before that, I sat down with him for a podcast on behalf of the Salzburg Festival Society. I will write an article about Malofeev, and his recital, in due course. In the meantime, here is our discussion, our podcast. Sasha (as he asks me to call him) is not only a brilliant pianist, he is also a wonderful interviewee—thoughtful, candid, endearing. You’ll see.Oh, one more thing: In this podcast, we talk about Mikhail Pletnev’s transcription of the Grand pas de deux from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker. It is a frequent Malofeev encore. To hear Sasha in it, go here.And one more one more thing: interviewee and interviewer:Q&A is the podcast of this site, Onward and Upward. The site is supported by readers and listeners. To receive new articles and episodes—and to support the work of the writer and podcaster—become a free or paid subscriber. Many thanks to you. Get full access to Onward and Upward at www.jaynordlinger.com/subscribe

Gabriel Sterling was one of those human guardrails. There are guardrails written down—in the Constitution, in our laws. But what do they matter, if there are not officials who will do their duty?Sterling is an elections official in Georgia, a Republican. He refused to say that the 2020 presidential election in his state was anything other than what it was: scrupulously fair.Stephen Richer was such an official in Arizona. I podcasted with him in April 2024, and I have now podcasted with Sterling. (A sterling guy, he is.)We talk about many subjects—with an emphasis on the 2020 election—but I will be brief in this accompanying text.Many people say of Mike Pence, “Yeah, he did not betray his oath on January 6. He did not betray his country. Big deal. You wanna give him a cookie for that? You wanna praise and hail him?”You can say something similar about Gabriel Sterling, Stephen Richer, and others. I understand the sentiment very well.There is a story I’ve told many times, in different contexts. It is about Bobby Jones in the 1925 U.S. Open. He called a penalty on himself—a two-stroke penalty. No one had seen the infraction. But he had, and golf is a game of honor.He wound up losing the Open by one stroke.When people praised him for his sportsmanship and honesty, he would have none of it. He scoffed, “Sooner praise a man for not robbing a bank.”I get it, I get it—and I agree with it. But …What if everyone else is robbing a bank? What if powerful people, and your fellow party members, are pressuring you to rob a bank? What if it takes courage, guts, not to rob a bank?This is why I think the likes of Pence deserve our thanks.In our podcast, Gabriel Sterling tells a story or two, and I will quote him in one (paraphrasing slightly):Not long after the election, I was at a Publix, a supermarket, here in Metro Atlanta, and there was a young African-American man, wearing a mask. He was mopping. He was down on the floor, cleaning up a spill, and he saw me, and he got up immediately. He said, “Mr. Sterling, Mr. Sterling.” I’m like, “Yes?” He said, “I just want to thank you so much. This was my first vote. I’m so proud to know that you were defending it.”I’m getting teary-eyed now thinking about it.Same here, honestly.Q&A is the podcast of this site, Onward and Upward. The site is supported by readers and listeners. To receive new articles and episodes—and to support the work of the writer and podcaster—become a free or paid subscriber. Many thanks to you. Get full access to Onward and Upward at www.jaynordlinger.com/subscribe

One of the writers I read most regularly is Clay Risen. He writes obituaries for the New York Times. Another way to say that is, he is a composer of mini-biographies, week after week.He has also worked as a political writer. And he has authored ten books, on various subjects: including the American civil rights movement, Theodore Roosevelt, McCarthyism, and whiskey.In our Q&A, we spend some time on Roosevelt. What a fascinating, and multifaceted, man. We also talk about his growing up—Clay’s, that is (but TR’s too, come to think of it). Clay is from Nashville. Actually from Nashville.I have known many Nashvillians, but they have been people who moved there.The bulk of our conversation, we spend on obituaries—their whys and wherefores. As my regular readers know, I love obits. It’s not that I’m macabre. No. I’m sorry the person has died. I just love life stories.Consider a couple of things. (1) Maybe my favorite genre, in the book world, is biography and autobiography. (2) My attention span is possibly—possibly—getting a little shorter, what with blogposts and tweets and all.Therefore, obits are pretty much made for me.Many years ago, I talked with Bob Bork about the New York Times. He had given up reading the paper, out of political disgust. But there was one section he could not give up, and would not give up: the obits.He was addicted (and so, I suppose, am I).What are the ingredients of a good obituarist? Clay Risen touches on the main ones. You have to be curious—curious about people, curious about life, in all of its diversity, and weirdness. You have to be an absorber of information. It helps to be a fast learner. And you have to be sensitive.There are family members to consider—survivors of the deceased. Is it nice, or right, to speak ill of the dead? No. At the same time, an obit is not a eulogy. An obit requires biographical honesty.An obituarist for the New York Times has a special burden: the Times obit will be the “obit of record,” the obit that people will turn to, for years and years.“Hey, what was the deal with that John Smith fella? Hang on, let me Google the New York Times obit.”I think of music criticism (as I tell Clay in our podcast). The Times is more or less the trade journal of classical music. There is a lot riding on a Times review. There is extra weight on the shoulders of a Times critic—he can hurt someone.I really can’t, which is a relief. Which frees one up, really.Anyway, they are a very interesting subject, obits. And Clay Risen is a very interesting talker about them, and many another subject as well. You will enjoy his company. A literate, learned, genial man.At the end of our Q&A, I ask him whether he’s glad to be an obits writer in our present era—rather than a political reporter, say. “Yes,” he answers, “a thousand times yes.”I get it!Q&A is the podcast of this site, Onward and Upward. The site is supported by readers and listeners. To receive new articles and episodes—and to support the work of the writer and podcaster—become a free or paid subscriber. Many thanks to you. Get full access to Onward and Upward at www.jaynordlinger.com/subscribe

I’ll quote from my introduction:… our guest today is Michael Feinberg, a former FBI agent who is now a writer and editor with Lawfare. With the FBI, he won a slew of awards and commendations, but was forced out last year when the regime of Kash Patel and Dan Bongino came in. He wrote about all this in a moving article called “Goodbye to All That.” Mr. Feinberg, of course, borrowed his title from Robert Graves.He grew up in the Chicago suburbs—in “John Hughes territory,” as I call it. In fact, many of Feinberg’s friends—plus his sister—appeared as extras in John Hughes films.Feinberg went to Brandeis University and then Northwestern’s law school. He was a conservative with a libertarian bent. He read Reason, National Review, The Weekly Standard. He was a member of the Young Friends of The New Criterion.The whole bitsy, as we’d say in the Midwest.Oh, here’s another thing: “I was probably one of the few people, in their twenties, who sat through the entirety of Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation in a public library.”Mike was practicing law. One day, the family threw a surprise birthday party for his grandfather, who was turning 90. One guest at the party was the honoree’s brother, age 87. The two of them were reminiscing about how they joined the Army after Pearl Harbor.And Mike thought: I was in my first year of law school on 9/11. But I did not change the course of my life at all. Maybe I should do something more public service–oriented.The FBI it was.Feinberg spent a lot of time countering the influence of the Chinese government. He worked with many different types in the FBI. We discuss all that. And what happened to the Bureau with the onset of the second Trump administration.Are there still good people—real professionals—in the FBI? Can the damage be repaired, at some point in the future? What have we lost, and how long might it take to rebuild it?We spend some time on the Epstein scandal. “Scandal” is far too light a word. “Abomination,” “horror.” We also spend some time on ICE. Is this how a law-enforcement agency should behave? Some do behave that way, says Feinberg—but not in countries, or under regimes, that we Americans generally seek to emulate.At the end of our conversation, we talk about a big question, almost a sentimental one: “where we are.” What has become of our country. Mike cites the parable of the Prodigal Son. And he looks forward to a kind of national homecoming.It was a real pleasure to talk with this fellow, and to learn about the FBI from him, and I’m glad he is “in the arena,” contributing in the ways available to him. He doesn’t have a gun and a badge anymore—or at least not a badge—but he certainly has tools.Q&A is the podcast of this site, Onward and Upward. The site is supported by readers and listeners. To receive new articles and episodes—and to support the work of the writer and podcaster—become a free or paid subscriber. Many thanks to you. Get full access to Onward and Upward at www.jaynordlinger.com/subscribe