WRT ‘Tony’s Diaries’

I haven't read every word of them. I've perhaps done more due diligence than most, in that I've drilled down the list and looked—at random—at a few hundred of the entries during the worst of the COVID years. But in doing so, I haven't found a single one yet where I see a moment of self-reflection, a concern, a conflict, a disturbance of the mind, a bit of worry, a man in the midst of a global pandemic where millions are dying, contemplating the horror, and/or his own mortality, and/or his own responsibility for what's happening world-wide. Contrast that with the diaries of men and women, destined to leadership during historical catastrophes, from the Great Plague forward. One of the reasons we can—almost a thousand years later—still feel the horror of the London Plague might have to do with the first-hand account of Samuel Pepys. He wasn't a medical "expert." But he was there. He told the story. Something Anthony Fauci failed to do. Anne Frank told the story. As did others, if we're brave enough to remember. Anthony Fauci? Not so much.

Over and over, when it comes to Anthony Fauci, I see a narcissistic publicity hound, waiting for the next opportunity to feature on the news, in the print media, or on the Internet influencer circuit. And along the way, I see someone who mocks, dismisses, and throws under the bus all those who disagree with him (some of whom are at least as credentialed as himself) as "crazy" and "conspiracy theorists."

Those of you who can show me where I'm wrong, or where I've missed the boat, or where Anthony Fauci is writing and leading for the ages, please have at it. I am listening.

Meanwhile, I can't think of a single analog in actual Western Christian Civilization where a person who's had the lives and deaths of millions in his hands hasn't tormented himself with the outcome of his consequential decisions, and who hasn't, at one time or another, simply wished he'd not had to make them. Often, those recollections come after a person's death, and when a person's personal diaries, or portions of them, finally become part of the public domain. At that point, we can begin to see them as regular, tormented human beings who did the best they could, under unconscionable circumstances.

Fortunately (I suppose) for us, Anthony Fauci kept his personal diaries on government servers, thereby rendering his deathless prose as government "property" for the ages while he was still living. (Perhaps the government has learned a bit, since the days of the server in Hillary's bathroom. Yay.) And so Fauci's decisions, and his behavior, unfolded under government scrutiny in real time, and in lockstep with the social media of the day.

"We see you," Anthony Fauci.

The sad conclusion I draw from "Tony's Diaries" is that Anthony Fauci seems to have been thrilled to make the decisions that he did, which caused the outcomes that they did, as long as—all the while—they got him onto the front pages of important left-wing magazines, and in front of friendly left-wing bloggers.

If you don't think that's a problem, then I'm not sure I want to know you.