In Herman Wouk's Winds of War and War and Remembrance there was a character named Aaron Jastrow.
Across the two novels Aaron kept not "getting out" (he had an academic post of significant comfort somewhere in Italy) but remained behind saying to himself it just wasn't that bad.
He ended up dying in Auschwitz.
We keep having high level, reasonable, conversations that don't accomplish much; but we keep having 'em.
I think most Americans have become Aaron Jastrow.
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