A literature of power without force

I was going to discuss voting rights 

in the United States yesterday, but 

the subject called for more time than 

I could give it, with everything else 

Saturday offers - and requires. I cer-

tainly didn’t object to the subject I 

chose. I reasoned, I could pass off 

the note on voting rights to Sunday, 

and hastened into town to shop.

On my way home, I stopped at a smart 

little roadside café for a first bite 

of the day. I was followed a few min-

utes later by a young family — mother, 

father, a boy of about 7, one of about 

4, and an infant in a carrier. They as-

sumed their rôles without a hitch. The 

mother announced their requirements, 

the father fetched a stool for the in-

fant, the latter dozing silently; and 

the older brother strode about, explor-

ing the environment, until the younger 

spoke up to him, almost in a whisper, 

in a tone reserved for them: Why don’t 

you sit, and talk to me?

Immature. Narcissistic. Sexist. Needy.
That whole list of our objections now.

Without a single whiff of force, not

least of disdain. Disempowerment may

impart these elements, left to their

devices.

Representation, I understand. Direct 

democracy, I understand. Repression, 

I understand; and corruption, I thor-

oughly understand. Voting responds to 

something else. 

I know it by that question, I’d know 

its tone anywhere. It has driven this 

election, and it will do, all the way. 

Edward Hopper

Solitary Figure in a Theatre

1904

Whitney Museum