On toxic nostalgia

There is a kind of conservatism that is much stronger among people who do not think of themselves as politically conservative: toxic nostalgia. Conservatives who are at peace with — or even look forward to — Schumpeterian creative destruction are less prone to it than are many progressives, moderates, and right-leaning people who see the world a bit more like Tucker Carlson does.

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In today’s New York Times there is a lamentation for Bobby’s Idle Hour, a bar in Nashville. (The column is by Margaret Renkl, whose editors have had the exceedingly bad taste to run it under the headline, “The Day the Music Died.”) It is the last live-music venue on Nashville’s famous Music Row, and neighborhood that — unforgivable sin — continues to grow and to change, as neighborhoods tend to do in cities that are not dead or dying. You know how it goes: First the Starbucks, then the yoga studio, the residential-commercial hybrid developments, etc. You know: the stuff that is wanted by the people who actually live there.

Renkl greets Nashville’s good fortune lugubriously.

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