☆ On the complex, ever-evolving relationship between poetry and politics in Silicon Valley
Frans van Mieris: A seated man sharpening a quill pen, 1880.
We get funny looks sometimes for publishing exclusive poems (primarily from former Board of Equalization candidate Peter Verbica) alongside more “important” policy analyses. But, as Verbica discusses in this World Poetry Day Opp Now exclusive, “the language of the soul” has much to offer—and, indeed, borrow from—the political sphere. His interview, plus our (growing) library of Opp Now poetry, follows.
Opportunity Now: You're a poet. And you ran for statewide office—the Board of Equalization. So does this reveal two sides of your personality, or do the efforts intersect somehow?
Peter Verbica: Let me just say that poetry and politics can be complementary; at their best, both poets and politicians seek to establish a strong connection with their respective audiences; both politicians and poets seek to be effective communicators. Abraham Lincoln wrote with a terse, Old Testament elegance. Teddy Roosevelt’s “Man in the Arena” could well have been authored by Faulkner, such is its color and animation. Coolidge’s powerful advice on perseverance could just as well have been written by a Greek stoic.
One of the most powerful figures in history was both a poet and a politician. Unfortunately, for humanity, as an avowed Communist, he was a catalyst for poverty and death at exponential levels—eviscerating one of the world’s richest cultures. Of course, I’m referring to Mao, that “glorious leader.” But, to be fair, you can’t say he didn’t warn us. After all, he writes, “The mountain goddess if she is still there, Will marvel at a world so changed.” If starvation and demise are marvels, these words were frighteningly prophetic.
Other lesser figures have fancied themselves poets, including Saddam Hussein, who, at the peak of his powers, commanded one of the ten largest armies in the world. He gathered poetry around himself and his eclipse, like a self-indulgent cloak. At the end, he was like a butcher looking who looked for sympathy from the slaughtered; his odd and addled beseeching, of course, is cringeworthy.
ON: Here at Opp Now, we often roll our eyes at the degraded language of politics. As a poet, do you find anything uplifting in political dialogue, or is it all just different worlds?
PV: We often don’t recognize the rapid (de)evolution of our own language; we have become strangers in our own land; by way of example, Shakespeare is rife with blue references, and yet, it’s produced by high school students; if students, parents, and teachers were more aware of the double entendres, such performances would be banned. Shakespeare puts Henry Miller to shame. Yes, our skill at expressing ourselves has waned; to read Francis Parkman’s description of Maine’s woods, or Frederick Douglass’ autobiographical account of his remarkable rise humbles the modern reader.
These admissions aside, I find John N. Kennedy, the Senator from Louisiana, riotous; behind his “aw shucks” persona is a powerful intellect; he was Phil Beta Kappa at Vanderbilt where he studied both economics and political science; he attended Oxford and obtained a JD in law. Where else would we get to hear about “a plan put together with vodka and darts,” “cars don’t run on fairy dust and unicorn urine,” “a wolf promising to be a vegan,” “prison riots,” “the game room in a mental hospital,” “spending porn,” and other disarming but insightful witticisms?
ON: Disarming, indeed (and, dare we say, he’d probably fit right in on Opp Now!). In your opinion, what's the most poetic thing a politician has ever said?
PV: You can draw from a broad body of work if you wish to answer that question. After all, many classical Greek poets, such as Virgil, Horace, and Cicero were also politicians. Lincoln, Churchill, and Ghandi were both politicians and poets.
Churchill’s towering eloquence is found in his rousing statement, “We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” In a country’s darkest hour, he mustered unimaginable grit and resolve.
ON: And what's the most political poem you like?
PV: I remember chancing upon the Hoover Institution’s invaluable repository of pre-Communist papers. It helped me understand the power of poets in resisting oppression. I will forever be astounded by Osip Mandelstam’s “The Kremlin Highlander;” the poet rails against Stalin and writes of the dictator: “He is forging his rules and decrees like horseshoes – Into groins, into foreheads, in eyes, and eyebrows.” Poets who stand up to tyrants are my heroes. But, I hold no naïve admiration for Communists or collectivists.
But, thanks to writers like Richard Pipes and Thomas Sowell, I shy aware from romanticizing any utopia upon earth; these men do a wonderful job of explaining why our political system should be utilitarian, and why we should let the facts lead us where they may. Recently, I gave an invocation before an endorsing convention which encapsulates my beliefs and predilections.
ON: If you were to take a look at our current national and local political leaders, what poet do you think those personalities are most like?
PV: I think too highly of poets to compare them to modern politicians! Perhaps Ted Sorenson, JFK’s speechwriter, is modern times’ greatest political wordsmith. But even Sorenson stood on the shoulders of giants during dark times; when the dream of Camelot expired, he turned to the Irish nationalist, Thomas Davis, to articulate sorrow and loss.
ON: We appreciate your poetry for many reasons, but mostly because it catches a sense of place—of this Valley—so well. Why can't political dialogue do that? Or maybe it does?
PV: When the Willow Glen Clock Tower was dedicated, snippets from my poem about the area were included on the plaque; I felt honored, because of my family’s history of owning “the Willows” farm. Much of what I write reflects my experience growing up on a cattle ranch in the Mount Hamilton Range as well. Sometimes I feel a closer connection to South American writers, because of their connection to the land, than a New Jersey poet writing about cold plums in a refrigerator. Land endures. It embraces our rot and bones and dreams. My great aunt who donated the heart of Henry Coe State Park in memory of her father wrote about such things; so did my mother in her writings; it appears to be a bit of a family curse, and, perhaps, a family blessing.
Here's an anthology of Opp Now exclusive poems:
Poetry: a bracing antidote to weary cynicism 9/22/2023
Poetry: What is art(ificiality) to, and for, Silicon Valley? 10/1/2023
Poetry: Revolution happens in the most unexpected places 10/6/2023
A poem for Christmas Day, 2023 10/25/2023
Haiku for Spring 2024, Silicon Valley 4/21/2024
Poetry for the season 6/24/2024
Summer waning poetry 8/21/2024
Three haikus: Wildfires, wild Birds, wild noises 9/20/2024
Poetry: Autumn storms weep, gnash, and erupt into sublimity 11/15/2024
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