Thoughts for when it rhymes
Historical twists...
On January 30, 1649, King Charles I of England was beheaded. People from all ranks of society were shocked. The king, chosen by God, killed by men.
Charles believed in the divine right of kings and felt no deep connection to Magna Carta, first signed in 1215. And he certainly was not fond of the institution spawned by that odious document — Parliament. He should have kept his thoughts and cavaliers to himself. The High Court of Justice declared that Charles was guilty of,
“…attempting to uphold in himself an unlimited and tyrannical power to rule according to his will, and to overthrow the rights and liberties of the people.”
What was his deep and abiding sin? Charles wanted to have a go at scooping up some land in Europe by fighting in the 30 Years War. But to fight a war he needed to raise taxes to finance the war. And to raise taxes he needed to recall Parliament. And he hated Parliament. He was the king after all. Chosen by God.
I thought of this over the weekend as our Canadian prime minister puffed out his chest, put his underwear over his pants and declared that he was, by gosh, ready to take on the evil Orange Man.
“Pull together Mice and we will overcome the thick-maned lion to the south!”
It made for a good children’s bedtime story, but it was nevertheless a fairy tale. But how does this relate to Charles I?
On February 13,2025, Chief Justice Paul Crampton will hear the application filed by David MacKinnon and Aris Lavranos of Nova Scotia to determine whether Parliament was unconstitutionally prorogued. I suppose the Chief Justice will determine whether Mr. Trudeau is guilty of,
“…attempting to uphold in himself an unlimited and tyrannical power to rule according to his will, and to overthrow the rights and liberties of the people.”
So, let’s review this. Our prime minister wants to fight a war (a trade war at least) with the leader of another country. To do so he needs to raise some money because this war will be frightfully expensive according to Professor Ian Lee of the Sprott School of Business. To supply this money, he needs to have the approval of Parliament. But he is Captain Canada, and he doesn’t want to recall Parliament — that odious institution. He wants to act alone, for his legacy I suppose.
I am seeing a rhyme in history. In these unusual times we are in, there are other echoes from history that also capture my attention.
In 1517 a young Augustinian priest walked up to the cathedral in his town and nailed a page with 95 theses or points of disagreement on the church door. He wanted to have a debate about several ecclesiastical issues, and this is how debates were started in the opening years of the sixteenth century. In 1518 Cardinal Thomas Cajetan took up the debate at the Diet of Augsburg. There was nothing particularly unusual about what Luther did, and he was not looking for the fight that unfolded.
In 2015 a billionaire real estate mogul and reality TV star descended an escalator and announced that he was running for the presidency of the United States to return the government to, what became known as, America first principles. Many, including me, thought he was promoting his brand. No one, including Mr. Trump I suspect, thought he was looking for the fight that unfolded.
In 1521, Mr. Luther was invited to present his case – the 95 theses – in front of the Holy Roman Emperor, a twenty-five-year-old Habsburg prince. The new emperor, Charles V, like others before him, had bought the most powerful throne in Europe by paying off the seven electors responsible for filling it. Mr. Luther’s statements were critiqued by Johann von Eck who worked for the Archbishop of Trier. It was a heated exchange and at the end of it, Luther effectively said, “This is what I believe, what else can I do. Prove me wrong.”
Emperor Charles V responded that he would offer his judgment a week later when Luther returned. Except he didn’t return. Instead, his friends literally kidnapped him, and he spent the next year growing out his hair and living incognito at Wartburg Castle.
The Worms Edict by Charles V declared Luther a “notorious heretic” which was essentially a death sentence. Fortunately for Luther, he was able to escape capture. Unfortunately, two years later, some monks from Antwerp, who had adopted Luther’s views and refused to recant, learned that the death sentence was all too real.
It is important to note that Luther, at great risk to himself, wanted to return to the Diet and hear what the emperor had to say. He was prevented from doing so against his will and thus avoided execution.
In 2020, Mr. Trump, the unexpected President of the United States, had his presidency interrupted by a pandemic resulting from a controversial virus that may or may not have been created in a laboratory in China. The resulting economic and social chaos of the epidemic derailed the last year of Mr. Trump’s presidency, and, against his will, put him into purgatory. For four-years there were constant efforts to destroy his spirit and bank account with court actions that, by any measure, were highly controversial and quite possibly illegal. On July 7, 2024, an assassin’s bullet missed its mark by millimeters and only because its intended victim uncharacteristically moved his head at the necessary moment. A local fireman died protecting his family from the hail of bullets directed at Mr. Trump.
Mr. Trump’s efforts to push the America First principles were ended in 2020 against his will and he was later almost executed for speaking out about those principles.
During Martin Luther’s “purgatory” at Wartburg Castle, he published an astonishing number of pamphlets and arguments laying out his case against the practices of the Catholic church in Germany. He translated and published the New Testament into the German language. It has been estimated that Luther was responsible for ten percent of all the works printed between the invention of the movable-type printing press and 1525. It was a tour de force and it can be safely said that Martin Luther perfected the social media of his day.
Mr. Trump, during his purgatory, and between lawsuits, perfected the social media of his day. When his access to social media was blocked, he created his own platform. The volume and sensational nature of his utterances were such that, like Martin Luther, he dominated the conversations of the Public Square. The legacy press, like Pope Leo X, could not keep up. Elon Musk was effectively the Johannes Gutenberg of the 21st century when he bought Twitter at an enormous loss to bring free speech back to that important platform. Just as Mr. Luther would have been voiceless without the printing press, so would Mr. Trump’s messaging have been limited without Twitter / X.
During his purgatory, Martin Luther made plans for when he could leave the protective castle of Elector Frederick III and press his revolution. His year in isolation gave him the time to plot his next steps,
“Do I press on and split the church with radical new reforms? Do I confront the power structures of my world and put my life at risk? Do I upset the old world order?”
He answered ‘yes’ and his equanimity in 1522 was noticed by his friends. They found a new Martin Luther, surer of his movements and more secure in what he felt compelled to do. His condemnation by Charles V, his near-death experience escaping from Worms, and his year of “captivity” had changed his understanding of his purpose in life.
Many of Donald Trump’s friends have said that after the near miss of his assassination attempt, his sense of purpose and determination hardened into a steely resolve. In the two weeks since becoming the 47th President of the United States, it cannot be denied that the whirlwind of activity and constant introduction of new and alien concepts has unbalanced the norms of Washington and confused the impressive forces arrayed against him. Is it possible that in the days following July 7, Mr. Trump asked himself,
“Do I press on and split elite society with radical new reforms? Do I confront the power structures of my world and put my life at risk? Do I upset the old world order?”
Many people will think that drawing this kind of parallel between Mr. Trump and Mr. Luther is close to heresy. And that is fine. Half the world, including many of its most powerful people, are furious with Mr. Trump. Half the world, including all the most powerful, were furious with Mr. Luther. Neither of these two men took the slightest notice of those who were angry with them, and they pushed their developing agenda against almost insurmountable odds.
We know the result of Mr. Luther’s reformation. A new and more creative worldview that today undergirds the economic strength of the United States. We don’t yet know the result of Mr. Trump’s revolution. Will it be a Golden Age as he and his adherents claim, or will it be a crashing decline and the extinction of the American Experiment as his elite detractors contend?
What we do know is that epochal history is being made, and the popcorn is free. Someone said that “history doesn’t repeat itself but often it rhymes.” I don’t see Mr. Trump as a modern Luther. My point is only that we need to know history to enjoy its poetry.