Your Leader (15 November) astutely summarised the risks of a Trump presidency and the challenges he faces as he takes office. One of the challenges identified was that US national debt of 120 per cent of GDP risks a further financial crisis. In fact, both the Great Depression and the financial crash of 2008 were caused by soaring private household debt, not national debt.
Emphasising concerns about national debt risks feeding demands for austerity to reduce that debt. We have seen the impact of this narrative in the UK, where rising national debt has been accompanied by rising wealth inequality and inflated asset prices, while austerity was imposed on our welfare and public services. National debt does not make a financial crisis, but the failure of governments to equitably manage the distribution of wealth could well give rise to the next crisis.
Susan Procter, Amersham, Buckinghamshire
In the eyes of the Church
Forgiveness is a central tenet of Christianity, but it will be in short supply for the fallen Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. Madeleine Davies’s concise article (Newsmaker, 15 November) outlined why Welby’s failure to grasp the nettle surrounding John Smyth’s serial abusing has enraged much of the Church of England. Whenever vulnerable people are abused, it raises public ire, particularly so when a body such as the Church is involved. It has ruined Welby’s reputation, but Davies rightly pointed out his positive contributions, including the appointment of women bishops and his pastoral work during the Covid-19 crisis. However, I doubt whether falling church attendance over the past decade could have been halted by anyone. Christianity has become more middle-class, and numbers have dropped as people are more selfish than they were 40 or 50 years ago, partly triggered by their having to work more to stay afloat. Irrespective of Welby’s failings, neoliberalism has much to answer for.
David Rimmer, Hertford Heath, Hertfordshire
In the debate about the position of the archbishop of Canterbury, there is no mention of the theology that seems to enable figures in the Church, such as John Smyth, to carry out such acts of abuse. Is it that his victims were persuaded that we are sinners and deserving of punishment in the eyes of the Lord? Is it that Christian devotion can create a mindset that leaves young people susceptible to such compliance? It is interesting that the victims who have spoken out have given little description of how they were persuaded to endure their punishments.
Stephen Ward, emeritus professor of education, Bath Spa University
Printing error
Alison Phillips (The Critics, 8 November) states that “Northcliffe supported Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts and the Nazis”. That would have been difficult since Northcliffe died in 1922 when Mosley was a mildly left-wing MP. The guilty man was Lord Rothermere, owner of the rabid Daily Mail. He became briefly enamoured of the Blackshirts in 1934, praising their “sound, commonsense, Conservative doctrine”. Within seven months he fell out with Mosley, tearing up their joint plans to set up a cigarette-manufacturing company. He worshipped Hitler for years. One historian of the period has described him as “perhaps the most influential single protagonist for fascism between the wars”.
Alistair Lexden, House of Lords
More on Trump
Jason Cowley quotes Philip Roth saying no one could have foreseen the “catastrophe” befalling the US coming in the shape of “the boastful buffoon” (Editor’s Note, 8 November). Well, someone did. In 1920 HL Mencken wrote in the Baltimore Sun newspaper: “All the odds are on the man who is… the most devious and mediocre… The presidency tends… to go to such men. As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move towards a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their hearts’ desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.”
Martha Snowden, Norwich
Empathy at the forefront
Geoffrey Wheatcroft’s account of the way Israel seems to have transformed itself from being David to Goliath was magisterial (The History Essay, 15 November). To back up his argument, may I allude to the wisdom of Daniel Barenboim, co-founder of the West-East Divan Orchestra? When asked to explain the shift from sympathy for Israel to sympathy for Palestine, he said simply that it was motivated by the same impulses: empathy for suffering, and anger about injustice and dispossession.
David Perry, Cambridge
No sine of Fry?
I found Rachel Cunliffe’s Encounter with Marcus du Sautoy (15 November) fascinating. However, I disagree with her suggestion that he is the closest thing Britain has to a celebrity mathematician. I would suggest that Hannah Fry has held that position for several years.
Mark Bignell, Tuddenham St Mary, Suffolk
Love hurts
I loved Tracey Thorn’s article about why songs about motherhood (or, to me parenthood) struggle to gain traction (Off the Record, 15 November). Maybe it’s because younger people unfamiliar with that acute pain are those setting the charts. I completely empathise with Thorn’s diagnosis of the fear that the child may come to harm and would like to add another pain for parenthood: that the relationship is fundamentally unequal and that motherly love is arguably never truly reciprocated. That pain has at lot in common with the pain of romantic love.
Dave McElroy, Reading
Turtley sad news
I was sad to hear from Simon Armitage of the likely demise in 2016 of Hanoi’s most famous lake dweller (Nature, 1 November). When I lived there ten years ago, finding the road at Hoan Kiem blocked by discarded mopeds was always a sure sign the turtle was making an appearance.
Liam Guyton, Waterbeach, Cambridgeshire
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