I’ve been thinking a lot of Newt lately. Indeed, regardless of the degree of one’s interest in politics, it is hard to deny that he is a fascinating character: his sheer grandiosity, his Hegelian sense of destiny and, of course, his imperial paunch– a fantastically bulbous testament to a life spent pursuing power, sex, and gummy bears. One cannot help but think that Newt, a sophist of the highest order, would have been totally at home in the late Roman Republic– a sort of lesser Cicero who, like the man himself, would not take part in Caesar’s assassination but would make sure to tell the conspirators that he wishes he had after the fact; a man whose immense self-regard drives him to publicly complain about the fact that he never received a triumph, despite the fact that no sane member of Roman society thought he deserved one (cf. “I defeated the communists”). Surely he would have read Catullus’ “dedication” and promptly had it framed.
O most learned of the descendants of Romulus,
as many there are and as many as there were, Marcus Tullius,
or as many as there will be later in years,
Catullus gives you great thanks,
the worst of all poets,
by as much the worst poet of all,
as you the best patron of all.
The Roman comparisons are attractive, if for no other reason than to imagine our friend clad in finely-spun toga, gorging himself to the health of the Republic between trips to the vomitorium. But I think there are other comparisons to be made. Evan has made the strong case for Newt as a “tin-pot Napoleon,” a comparison that certainly bears further consideration, but, while we’re in the realm of Russian literature, I think it’s worth pointing out our protagonist’s uncanny similarities to one Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov.
Like Raskolnikov, Newt fancies himself a great man. The Romney campaign released a wonderful email yesterday chronicling Newt’s tendency to compare himself to historical figures. It’s a rich cast of characters that includes stars such as Churchill, Abraham Lincoln, William Wallace, and, yes, Moses himself– all singular forces of history who fundamentally, radically, philosophically, revolutionarily changed the world as we know it. As a member of their ranks, Newt believes that he is above the rules meant to dictate the lives of mere plebes. Although he’s not known to have murdered anyone (yet…), he has made it clear on many occasions that he finds it entirely consistent to live his life according to his own rules while simultaneously championing a different set for his subjects. However it’s not the inconsistency per se that’s shocking, for such behavior is quite common (especially among politicians); rather it is his sheer indifference to the idea that his hypocrisy should be an issue.
I think it’s a compelling comparison, but the real drama will unfold only as it becomes increasingly clear to Newt himself that he won’t win the nomination. His marital woes, his ouster from the speakership, and the dems clawing up in ’96 were all minor blips, setbacks that were easily incorporated into a larger narrative arc. They would ensure that the drama would reach a crescendo in the final act. However, as Raskolnikov quickly learned after committing his double murder, reality is quite obdurate even in the face of the most imaginative fantasies. Rather than achieving greatness, he soon fell into a wretched abyss of paranoia and hypochondria. One can only hope that Newt’s own fall is as entertaining.
