http://frontpagemag.com/2010/04/20/when-love-conquers-politics/
by William Doino Jr.
Apr 20th, 2010
A Cracking of the Heart
David Horowitz, Regnery,
188 pages, $24.95
David Horowitz remembers the moment well. The author of Radical Son,
fresh off his political conversion, was having dinner with his family
one night, explaining why he had become a conservative and why they
should, too. At that point, he admits, he was still "unable to speak
about such matters without passions rising unbidden that were near
ferocious." His animus was the result of a recent break with hardened
leftists, after witnessing them commit a series of heinous acts and
then excuse them. The problem was that Horowitz was now inclined to
assail anyone to his left however decent and on this night, he
allowed his anger to overflow.
The conversation turned toward the danger of anti-war movements,
whose purpose, Horowitz believed, "was to disarm democracies and
encourage their enemies." One of his children, Sarah a liberal,
then in her 20s, and active in the peace movement was present to
witness her father's fury that night.
He describes what occurred:
The assault continued until the moment I became aware of the
expression on my daughter's face. Sarah had been silent
throughout my tirade, which I hardly noticed as I barreled ahead. But
all of a sudden her features came into my view with an
excruciating clarity. I saw that her eyes had grown red and liquid,
and her face was convulsed as though an immense weight was
pressing inexorably down on her. Her expression in that instant was
one of such mute and irremediable suffering that the distress of it
has never left me.
Suddenly, Horowitz, the newly minted "conservative," realized he
still had the reflexes of an ideologue and saw what it was doing to
himself and the people he loved: "As the conversation shifted to
other voices, I hid in my silence and thought: 'Who is this angry
person? What sort of individual could do this to his child?'"
There is a lesson here. Too many people, on both the Left and Right,
allow political and philosophical difference to get in the way of
their relationships, even to the point of destruction. This is not to
say our fundamental beliefs don't matter: Of course they do,
especially for those of us who believe in eternal life. There are
times, as the younger Horowitz himself painfully learned, where
people close to us are so reckless, abusive, and extreme that there
is no alternative but to leave them, at least until they reform. But
that is not what we are talking about here. Most relatives or friends
who have a falling out are basically good people who simply see the
world differently.
Often, after one too many arguments, they retreat to their
ideological corners, giving each other the silent treatment. When
they finally realize how foolish they've been, they have to scramble
to make amends if there is time. Sometimes there isn't, and they never do.
Gratefully, Horowitz's relationship with his daughter didn't reach
that stage. It was, however, tragically cut short. In early 2008, at
the age of just 44, Sarah Horowitz unexpectedly died. Her father has
now written a memoir, A Cracking of the Heart, describing the lasting
impact she had on those around her, not least of all himself.
The book marks a striking departure for Horowitz. Best known as the
leader of FrontPageMag.com and its high-temperature brand of
conservatism A Cracking of the Heart is a world away from those
polemics. Profoundly moving and beautifully written, it is the kind
of book that, once read, might actually help the reader heal a broken
relationship, or at least prompt an examination of conscience. Even
many at odds with Horowitz's politics, as was his daughter, will find
it rewarding.
Sarah was what is today known as a "special needs" child, but to
those who knew her, Sarah was just special. She was born with a
genetic disorder called Turner Syndrome, whose physical symptoms are
severe: "A wide and webbed neck," writes her father, "low-set and
curled ears, low hairline, small stature, swollen hands and feet,
drooping eyelids, dry eyes, cataracts, obesity, diabetes,
infertility, arthritis . . . hearing loss . . . heart defects, and
high blood pressure."
Despite all this, Sarah led an amazingly productive life. She was a
talented writer who obtained a Master's degree in Fine Arts and
pursued another in education; she became a childcare worker and
all-around volunteer; she traveled to El Salvador, India, and Uganda
on humanitarian missions, even going to Israel to climb the legendary
fortress of Masada successfully, despite her physical limitations.
Sarah's life was eventful because she never regarded herself as
disabled. She chose to forgo corrective surgery for her condition and
declined disability benefits when she could have received them. She
gave generously to the poor but repeatedly declined money from
others, even when she could have used it. Facing challenges that
would have disheartened most, Sarah not only survived but flourished,
albeit in her own, unique way.
As he tells his daughter's story, often through her unpublished
writings, Horowitz reveals his own relationship with Sarah,
revisiting the issues on which they clashed and converged.
The first concerned empathy. When he finished writing Radical Son,
Horowitz sent a copy to his daughter, asking for comment. She
generously replied, but scolded him for being one-sided, recommending
he be "less dismissive of political opponents and more appreciative
of their human complexity." To Sarah, empathy the ability to see
and understand someone else's situation, even when we may not approve
of their ideas and acts was essential to building a humane society.
Her father saw this as mere sentimentality, until his daughter opened
his eyes. "If you see someone in the fullness of their humanity," she
wrote him, "you see how they are acting out their own confusion and
suffering. This does not justify hurtful or evil acts. It doesn't
even always inspire forgiveness. But if you see someone this way, you
respond more in sadness than in anger. And that is simply a more
excellent state of being." She persuaded her father to moderate his
views on crime and punishment, and take a new look at the underclass:
"When I see a homeless person destitute on the street, " he writes,
"I think of Sarah, and my heart opens. If there is a criminal shut
behind bars, I force myself to remember her compassion, and a sadness
shades my anger. If there is a child languishing in need, I think of
my daughter . . . ."
Sarah learned from her father, too. Chastened by his experience with
Marxism, she remained wary of ideology, and actually wrote a story
lamenting "the Left's silence" about Communist atrocities. She was a
liberal, but not a party-liner: She opposed the death penalty because
it damages a nation's soul, not because she believed the condemned
were necessarily innocent. Toward the end of her life, Sarah became
more spiritual, reconnecting with her Jewish heritage and the people
of Israel. This, too, strengthened her integrity. As one of her
friends told her father:
She was for peace and justice but knew when things were not right in
the positions and behaviors of the Left. A lot of that had to do
with what she learned from you . . . about philosophies that were
all-encompassing and positions that didn't make sense. The older
we got it became clearer and clearer that the Left was not our friend
a lot of the time, particularly on Israel.
What united father and daughter most was their passion for justice.
"Many of our discussions revolved around the Jewish concept of a
tikkun olam, which means a 'repair of the world,'" writes Horowitz.
Though he pursued that goal from the Right, and Sarah from the Left,
the issues that divided them actually became points of contact: "She
was curious about my history, and I was eager to hear her opinions
and answer her questions. Pursuing these ends, we were able to open
lines of communication that our tangled family narratives had
previously blocked."
The day before she died, Sarah gave an interview to an online journal
about death and dying. She spoke about the recent loss of her aunt,
the pain she experienced, and the wise counsel of her rabbi: "Pay
attention to the ways in which your relationship continues."
That, in essence, is what Horowitz tries to do here, as he expresses
his own grief. Replaying times he may have slighted his daughter, he
pointedly questions himself. A "cracking of the heart" refers to that
moment, reflecting the holiest days of the Jewish calendar, when he
began a personal process of atonement, which continues to this day:
The reflections of a mourner are a relentless accounting, and there
is no bottom line. What words of hers did I fail to understand
when she was still there to explain them to me? What did I miss that
her eyes were telling me when she fell into her silences? Losing
her is too hard, and there is no way to end it.
Horowitz is hard on himself in this book, undoubtedly too hard,
expressing the anguish of a father who wishes he could have done
more, and given more, to a selfless daughter. But he should take
heart. If it is true that the apple does not fall far from the tree,
then Sarah's inspiring life was not an accident, and her father
deserves much credit for raising such a wonderful child.
By telling her story, combined with his own, Horowitz reminds us how
love can always conquer politics; and how a love that unites can take
us, as Sarah might say, to a "more excellent" place.
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