or: Empire’s Lady Macbeth (‘Hold, hold!’)
The Beltway, having been the exclusive domain of the male agents of Empire—as legislators, executives, warrior caste, proxies to financiers, etc.—was evaluated by HRC as ‘accessible’ to those women willing to adopt what are actually the very worst traits, inclinations, etc., of the dominant cohort. And this, with the amoral (shutting down) preferable to the immoral (merely looking away), to wit: the outwardly banal readiness to countenance death (unto collateral massacre) of non-combatants, an ethics-free courting and wielding of Power, and a tacit ‘code’ of denial expected of all career-focused agents therein—these features of an endlessly malign, investor class-configured realpolitik are safely re-coded as, for example, ‘decisive,’ ‘pragmatic,’ etc.
Hillary simply sized-up the sex-biased rules of political engagement, drank deeply of the amoral worldview, and awaited her inevitable opportunity to cry ‘havoc!,’ that is, to prove her mettle with the male peer…a kind of boastful, ‘I’m not squeamish about spilling blood, far from it—watch!’
And, with the obscene unfolding of regime change in Libya, she well and truly earned her place at that imbrued, heedless, grim table. A literary role-model may inhere—that is, Lady Macbeth prays for the will to ‘lead,’ as implacable, heartless behaviour is read, both then and now, as ‘authority’ and ‘resolve.’
Come, you spirits / That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here / And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full / Of direst cruelty! [1.5.40-43].
Make thick my blood; / Stop up the access and passage to remorse / That no compunctious visitings of nature / Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between / The effect and it! / Come to my woman’s breasts / And take my milk for gall, you murd’ring ministers! [44-48].
All through Tehran, children, the elderly, will soon pray, fearfully, to Allah that they may be spared the carnage HRC surely means to visit upon them—one year hence—in the name of ExxonMobil, Goldman Sachs, and her own self-serving iteration of realpolitik as ‘pragmatic,’ Late Capital-frenzied statecraft.
Wherever in your sightless substances / You wait on nature’s mischief. Come, thick night / And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell / That my keen knife see not the wound it makes / Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark / To cry ‘Hold, hold!’ [49-54].
The earnest, Wellesley-bred, ‘can-do’ belligerent seeks to validate her claim to command the global war machine, with husband-mentor counsel there to aid and abet, that prior regime’s impunity a useful assurance of death-dealing success, in Iran, or wherever: HRC will not now be deterred, as in destiny…as in self-will run riot.
[painting: Ellen Terry (as Lady Macbeth) John Singer Sargent, 1889]