The Republicans come to terms with Romney

The party is finally beginning to accept that Romney is the best it can do.

The big news last week wasn't that Mitt Romney will probably be the nominee for the Republican Party; it was that the Republican Party is now finally coming to terms with the fact that Romney is the best it can do.

You could tell the establishment was starting to warm up to Romney when former President George H.W. Bush gave his blessing, along with a host of other party heavyweights. Even Jim DeMint, the sage of the Tea Party wing of the GOP, said, without formally endorsing him, that "I'm not only comfortable with Romney, I'm excited about the possibility of him possibly being our nominee.”

Romney's sweep last week of primaries in Wisconsin, Maryland and the District of Columbia deepened the impression that he's the man. Even rival Newt Gingrich said, while reassuring us that his candidacy continues, that Romney is "the most likely Republican nominee."

Rick Santorum has the most to gain from staying in the race -- and to lose. The longer he runs, the more he can lay the foundation for 2016. But the longer he stays in, the more he keeps the party from focusing on Obama in the general election, and that hurts his chances in 2016.

So it's a balancing act, and perhaps that's why he recently meet with arch social conservatives like Gary Bauer, head of the pro-life group American Values who is a former candidate for president in 2000 -- to get some advice on what to do next. Bauer backed Romney in 2008, but only because he disliked John McCain more. This year, he's got a traditionalist Roman Catholic who appears to take talking points straight from the Vatican. Social conservative love love love that; too bad Catholics don't.

The results of that meeting are unknown, but it looks like the strategy, as it were, hinges on Santorum's performance in Pennsylvania, his home state. It's been said that Santorum is far too conservative to win a general election. Sure, he can win Midwest and Southern states, but not in America's so-called swing states, in which voters are evenly split along party lines. These include Florida, Ohio, Virginia and Pennsylvania. A win in Pennsylvania would go a long way to proving that Santorum is just the conservative Americans want. 

But some are advising him to avoid risking a loss in Pennsylvania. Santorum lost his Senate seat in 2006 by a wide margin of defeat. Even if he loses the primary by a hair, it could be seen as more reason to dislike his chances in 2016. Better to step away, some say, and rekindle this year's brief momentum four years from now.

McCain was the runner-up in 2000. Romney in 2008. So it's not crazy to think Santorum has a shot in 2016. You'll notice I didn't say 2020. Critics on the left and right are saying that Romney doesn't have a shot against Obama and that the Republicans should just pack it up now. The most prominent figure to give voice to this is TV host Joe Scarborough of MSNBC's "Morning Joe." Scarborough, a "renegade Republican," said last week:

Nobody thinks Romney is going to win. Can we just say this for everybody at home? I have yet to meet a person in the Republican establishment that thinks Mitt Romney is going to win the general election this year. They won’t say it on TV because they’ve got to go on TV, and they don’t want people writing them nasty emails. I obviously don’t care. I have yet to meet anybody in the Republican establishment that worked for George W. Bush, that works in the Republican Congress, that worked for Ronald Reagan that thinks Mitt Romney is going to win the general election.

That's not what you want to hear if you're Mitt Romney. But perhaps he doesn't care. According to a report in the Associated Press, Romney's likely strategy in the general election is going to be appearing like a moderate who can fix the economy while attacking Obama with ads. It worked for him in the gubernatorial race in Massachusetts, and he hopes it works this year.

Perhaps it will. What's telling is Romney doesn't appear to believe winning requires that voters like him. Just appear to be a competent candidate, attack Obama with millions in ads, and that should be enough. It seems jaw-dropping, that kind of thinking, and the kind of thing you'd expect from a former Wall Street executive.

Republican presidential candidate, former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney speaks to supporters at an election-night rally. Photograph: Getty Images.

John Stoehr teaches writing at Yale. His essays and journalism have appeared in The American Prospect, Reuters Opinion, the Guardian, and Dissent, among other publications. He is a political blogger for The Washington Spectator and a frequent contributor to Al Jazeera English.

 

Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Danila Tkachenko
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Ruin porn: the art world’s awkward obsession with abandoned Soviet architecture

Deserted fairgrounds, disused factories and forgotten military bases may look cool, but are we fetishising the remnants of such a cruel history?

Armenia, where one side of my family is from, was one of the first members of the USSR, annexed by Russia in 1922. A few years ago, when I visited this little country that perches precariously in the south of the Caucasus, I was struck most by its Soviet architecture.

Although its landscape is a hotchpotch of medieval Orthodox churches, a smattering of Persian-era domes, and brutalist concrete, it was the latter that particularly stuck out. From unfelled statues of Stalin to giant tower blocks spelling out the letters “CCCP” from a bird’s-eye view (well, half spelt-out – construction stopped partway through, with the fall of the Soviet Union), I’ve never forgotten it.

Perhaps it was so compelling because such stark physical symbols make recent history all the more tangible. A history still profoundly affecting the country of my ancestors (and all post-Soviet and communist states). But also, it just looked really cool.


Mixed air corps, Mongolia. Photo: Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Eric Losito

It’s a bit passé now to mock the hipster obsession with reclaimed industrial detritus, exposed pipes and bare concrete. An aesthetic – that of a post-industrial wasteland, but a chic one – which has gripped western cities for years, and crept worldwide.

But it could be this tendency to find disused stuff visually intriguing, and a morbid fascination with cruel regimes, which has led to the art world’s obsession with abandoned Soviet architecture. A whole wave of artists and photographers have been poking around the eastern bloc’s architectural graveyard in recent years.

Late last year, we saw the hugely popular disused Soviet bus stop series by photographer Christopher Herwig, echoing photographer Sergey Novikov’s equally absorbing collection of abandoned Soviet cinemas from 2013.

Following Russian filmmaker and photographer Maria Morina’s “Atomic Cities” project four years ago, London-based artist Nadav Kander explored the “aesthetics of destruction” in his exhibition, Dust, in 2014, snapping “radioactive ruins” of secret cities on the border between Kazakhstan and Russia. The same year, Moscow photographers Sasha Mademuaselle and Sergey Kostromin travelled to the disputed region of Abkhazia, capturing fragments of its deserted infrastructure.


Fighter aviation regiment, Mongolia. Photo: Eric Losito
 

And photojournalist Anton Petrus’ now iconic pictures of Chernobyl’s abandoned amusement park have long been an internet favourite, as have numerous haunting images of Pripyet – the city famous for lying deserted following the nuclear disaster.

Jamie Rann, a lecturer in Russian at Oxford University, has written that the quality and technical accomplishment of most of this photography make the style more “ruin erotica” than “ruin porn” (the tag being used by some critics), but argues: “The enormous online popularity of this genre . . . combined with their voyeuristic, almost exploitative feel, certainly has something porny about it.”

The latest exploration of Soviet society’s skeletons can be found at the Power & Architecture season at London’s Calvert 22 Foundation. In an exhibition called Dead Space and Ruins, we see abandoned military bases and formerly mighty monuments, forgotten space ports freezing in the tundra, the ghost of an entire unused, unfinished city in Armenia lying derelict.



The unfinished "ghost city" built in Armenia to house earthquake survivors (water added by artist). Photo: Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Vahram Aghasyan

The works are beautiful, but do they feed in to this zeitgeisty lust for Soviet ruins?

One of its curators, Will Strong, laments this trend. “I was keen that this didn’t become like a kind of ‘ruin lust’, ‘ruin porn’ thing; this slightly buzzwordy term that there is at the moment, this kind of fetishisation of dead space,” he tells me.

“This history is incredibly loaded, and it did not end in 1991. To sort of fetishise it in the very bourgeois western way of, ‘oh yeah, look at all this wonderful Soviet architecture, isn’t it fantastic?’ Obviously a lot of people who lived in that time hated it . . . a lot of people were very miserable under these regimes, so it’s important not to forget that.”


Gym at the Independent Radar Centre of Early Detection, Latvia. Photo: Eric Losito

He adds: “It’s more a point of reflection on how buildings were designed, what their legacy is, what their narrative is, and who the people are who live with that story. This show looks at the aftermaths of when utopia hasn’t been delivered.”

This view is echoed by the Moscow artist, Danila Tkachenko, whose work is featured in the exhibition. “It is rather a metaphor for the future, not the past,” he says. “It represents an image of a possible future. When there is a visualisation of this issue [utopia], it evokes a response in people; they see this utopia in their lives . . . There is disappointment in all utopias.”


The world's largest diesel submarine, in Russia's Samara region. Photo: Calvert 22/Courtesy of the artist, Danila Tkachenko

His Restricted Areas series explores great behemoths of European communism left to lie forgotten in the tundra of remote regions in and around Russia and Kazakhstan: the world’s largest diesel submarine, like a beached whale in the snow; a giant satellite, thatched with antennae, built to communicate with Soviet bases on other planets some day; the deserted flying saucer-like communist headquarters in a region of Bulgaria. The structures hover in blank, white space, making the photos appear black-and-white.


Deserted observatory, Kazakhstan's Almaty region. Photo: Danila Tkachenko
 

Anton Ginzburg is an artist who grew up in St Petersburg in the Eighties as the Soviet Union was disintegrating. He believes studies like his film, Turo, of disused modernist constructions in the post-Soviet bloc, appeal to people’s connection to history. After all, picking through the architectural carcasses of former societies isn’t exactly a new thing:

“Russian culture is still haunted by its Communist past, and constructivist architecture is a decaying shell for its ghosts. It is an active reminder of the recent history,” he reflects. “Perhaps [its appeal] is a mixture of memento mori, with its thrill of beauty and destruction, along with a Romantic tradition of contemplation of Greek and Roman ruins.”

(Anton Ginzburg Turo teaser from Visionaireworld on Vimeo.)

The Power & Architecture season is on at the Calvert 22 Foundation, London, from 10 June-9 October 2016. Entry is free.

Anoosh Chakelian is deputy web editor at the New Statesman.