The Sheila Variations

Today in history: May 3, 1469

Niccolò Machiavelli was born in Florence, Italy.

We first had to read The Prince in high school. I remember it as drudgery. I flat out didn't get it. I read it again a couple years later, and the light dawned in on me. I "got" the book, I got its importance. Especially with all of my reading about the Founding Fathers, and their thoughts on government, and the workings of power, and the general corruptibility of man ... One of my favorite things about all "those guys" was how they were the opposite of idealists. They were deep-down hardened skeptics, actually - at least about mankind and human nature. Hence: the checks, the balances ... because man is not to be trusted with power. Ever.

Every time I read the book, it seems like there's something new there. Or it even seems like there are new sections altogether. I think: "Wait a sec ... did I ever actually read this section??" My relationship with the book is ongoing, it's one of those books that changes along with you.

It was difficult to choose an excerpt, because there was so much to choose from. I really like the section on armies. I love all the political and military history stuff ... but I'm gonna post, now, an excerpt from the famous chapter: "On Cruelty and Clemency, and Whether It Is Better to be Loved or Feared".

The edition that I have starts with an awesome introduction about the history of people's responses to this book. How "Macchiavellian" became a certain type of descriptive term pretty much in his lifetime. How the work is misunderstood, essentially. (He's similar to Orwell, in that way. Christopher Hitchens, in Why Orwell Matters analyzes brilliantly how "Orwellian" became a descriptive term, and how so often Orwell is associated with totalitarianism, as though he ENDORSED those views, merely because he was able to portray them so accurately. A true association of author with subject. Mistaking the messenger for the message.) Machiavelli has a similar reputation. It seems as if the only thing people remember from the book is "the ends justify the means", and that's obviously what he believed, therefore I fear him, so let's call it a night. But that's not all there is, and the context of the book itself - why he wrote it - helps illuminate his concerns, his struggles.

He was a political insider with a cushy government job, until the Medicis took power. Machiavelli was imprisoned, tortured, and then exiled. During his exile, he wrote The Prince, hopefully as a way to get in the good graces of the Medicis. A gift, a presentation: "Here is all that I know about politics. You shouldn't exile me. I can help you. I can be of service to you." Here is a bit from a letter he wrote to a friend:

I am living in the country since my disgrace. I get up at dawn and go to the little wood where I see what work has been done ... [Then comes a long section where he discusses sitting outside, on a hill, reading Dante, Petrarch, Tibullus, Ovid. Then he goes to spend the afternoon at the inn, with the miller, the butcher, a cook, some bricklayers ...] [Spent the afternoon] with these boors playing cards or dice; we quarrel over farthings. When evening comes I return to the house and go into my study. Before I enter I take off my rough mud-stained country dress. I put on my royal and curial robes and thus fittingly attired I enter into the assembly of men of old times. Welcomed by them I feed upon that food which is my true nourishment, and which has made me what I am. I dare to talk with them, and ask them the reason for their actions. Of their kindness they answer me. I no longer fear poverty or death. From these notes I have composed a little work, The Prince.

I find that totally extraordinary. What a description. My favorite part is how he needed to change into his old court robes, even though he was now exiled from the court, in order to get to work in his study. A sense of humility, awe, and respect ... when sitting down to contemplate Dante or Ovid. Sitting there in your mud-stained trousers would be the ultimate insult, and in order to "dare to talk with them", he had to be appropriately dressed. I love that.

Tycho Brahe, apparently, used to put on his court robes every time he looked through a telescope.

One must approach one's work with awe and respect.

I think that's really cool.

The Prince didn't win over the Medicis, and Machiavelli remained an outsider for the rest of his life. But the document stands, as one of the greatest books of political philosophy ever written. If all you remember of it is having to read it in high school, I suggest picking it up again. It's a quick read, a slim volume, but it still packs a punch today!

Here's an excerpt from The Prince:

From this arises the question whether it is better to be loved more than feared, or feared more than loved. The reply is, that one ought to be both feared and loved, but as it is difficult for the two to go together, it is much safer to be feared than loved, if one of the two has to be wanting. For it may be said of men in general that they are ungrateful, voluble, dissemblers, anxious to avoid danger, and covetous of gain; as long as you benefit them, they are entirely yours; they offer you their blood, their goods, their life, and their children, as I have before said, when the necessity is remote; but when it approaches, they revolt. And the prince who has relied solely on their words, without making other preparations, is ruined; for the friendship which is gained by purchase and not through grandeur and nobility of spirit is bought but not secured, and at a pinch is not to be expended in your service. And men have less scruple in offending one who makes himself loved than one who makes himself feared; for love is held by a chain of obligation, which, men being selfish, is broken whenever it serves their purpose; but fear is maintained by a dread of punishment which never fails.

Still, a prince should make himself feared in such a way that if he does not gain love, he at any rate avoids hatred; for fear and the absence of hatred may go well together, and will be always attained by one who abstains from interfering with the property of his citizens and his subjects or with their women. And when he is obliged to take the life of any one, let him do so when there is a proper justification and manifest reason for it; but above all he must abstain from taking the property of others, for men forget more easily the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony. [I guess Marx and Lenin didn't read their Machiavelli, huh?] Then also pretexts for seizing property are never wanting, and one who begins to live by rapine will always find some reason for taking the goods of others, whereas causes for taking life are rarer and more fleeting.

But when the prince is with his army and has a large number of soldiers under his control, then it is extremely necessary that he should not mind being thought cruel; for without this reputation he could not keep his army united or disposed to any duty. Among the noteworthy actions of Hannibal is numbered this, that although he had an enormous army, composed of men of all nations and fighting in foreign countries, there never arose any dissension either among them or against the prince, either in good fortune or in bad. This could not be due to anything but his inhuman cruelty, which together with his infinite other virtues, made him always venerated and terrible in the sight of his soldiers, and without it his other virtues would not have sufficed to produce that effect. Thoughtless writers admire on the one hand his actions, and on the other blame the principal cause of them.

And that it is true that his other virtues would not have sufficed may be seen from the case of Scipio (famous not only in regard to his own times, but all times of which memory remains), whose armies rebelled against him in Spain, which arose from nothing but his excessive kindness, which allowed more licence to the soldiers than was consonant with military discipline. He was reproached with this in the senate by Fabius Maximus, who called him a corrupter of the Roman militia. Locri having been destroyed by one of Scipio's officers was not revenged by him, nor was the insolence of that officer punished, simply by reason of his easy nature; so much so, that some one wishing to excuse him in the senate, said that there were many men who knew rather how not to err, than how to correct the errors of others. This disposition would in time have tarnished the fame and glory of Scipio had he persevered in it under the empire, but living under the rule of the senate this harmful quality was not only concealed but became a glory to him.

I conclude, therefore, with regard to being feared and loved, that men love at their own free will, but fear at the will of the prince, and that a wise prince must rely on what is in ihis power and not on what is in the power of others, and he must only contrive to avoid incurring hatred, as has been explained.

Happy birthday, Machiavelli!

Rebecca West on Göring

I've got a couple of what I call "intellectual idols", people who analyze and parse the world and its events, in a way that seems singular, important, and (in some cases) life-altering (for me). I was one way before I read Ryszard Kapuscinski. After reading him, I will never look at the world in the same way again. George Orwell is another one. Robert Kaplan is another one. I suppose Alexander Hamilton is another one, although I think of him more as my boyfriend. His perspective was, in many respects, larger and more sweeping than his contemporaries - for a variety of reasons. He was an immigrant? He wasn't attached to one colony emotionally? He had grown up in a mercantile atmosphere, not agrarian at all - so he did not fear big money, and the loss of an agricultural economy. Who knows why - but he had a longer view going on than most, as far-seeing as all of "those guys" were. Robert Conquest is another intellectual idol. This is not about total agreement, by the way, which never interests me in the slightest. This is about people who seem to have some sort of perspective on events, perspective that gives them the LONG view of things, as opposed to the short. In many cases, these people (while very political) rise above politics, at least in the every-day mucky muck of them, and they see things in different contexts, because they understand history, because they can PLACE certain events in a context that makes them seem completely different. You are forever changed once you get that kind of perspective.

But the grand pooh-bah of intellectual idols is Rebecca West.

I am now reading her A Train of Powder, which I can't believe hasn't been on my radar at all. It's certainly not going to be found at your local Barnes & Noble, where you can easily find Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, her masterwork.

As with many of these people I mention, they are interconnected. Robert Kaplan introduced me to Kapuscinski and also Rebecca West (his Balkan Ghosts: A Journey Through History follows in her footsteps through the former Yugoslavia). In my opinion, he is definitely her heir.

Train of Powder is made up of four very long essays having to do with various trials that West, as a journalist, covered, one being the Nuremberg Trials. The Nuremberg Trials are broken up into three long parts, each one called "Greenhouse with Cyclamens". One of the things that is so extraordinary about Rebecca West, and why she is so revered by anyone who wants to write thoughtfully about history and politics, is that she was able to see things before others did. (Or, not ALL others, but she certainly stands apart) She traveled through Yugoslavia in 1938, 1939. Not only could she sense the cataclysm that was to come in WWII (she is especially brutal about the German tourists she observed on the train - in them, she can see the entire Nazi Party) - but she predicts the breakup of Yugoslavia some 50 years later, and the genocidal campaigns of people like Slobodan Milosevic. Nobody who read her book would be at all shocked that Serbia would rise in such a monstrous way. Of course they did. Retrospect makes prophets of us all, and there are many who could say, "I saw it coming ..." Yes: but could you have seen it coming in 1938? There was something about Rebecca West's mind - cold and detached (yet she comes off incredibly warm in interviews) - that kept her above events, without the accompanying sense of superiority that so often comes with detached individuals.

She seems always to be on the side of the individual, which again separates her from her contemporaries - many of whom were swayed by Socialist ideas (Orwell and others) but she really never was. She considered herself a radical and a feminist, to be sure, but she always has a very healthy suspicion of any group, and such people are really rare - and almost nonexistent today, at least in political writing, where everything is about propping up your GROUP. West saw what group-identity-politics could wrought, in places like Yugoslavia, and then also in places like Germany, and she conscoiusly separated herself from the pack: "No, thanks. Not for me." Not an easy stance to take, and she is often mistaken for a reactionary which makes me chuckle - because that is so often the accusation thrown towards someone who refuses to "play well with others", who never drank the Kool-Aid in the first place.

I am devouring Train of Powder at the speed of light. The first big essay about the Nuremberg Trials has many different aspects to it: the vibe, in general, at the time, for those journalists who had been observing the trials in their entirety: the intense boredom, and the homesickness, but that's just one element. She's an incredible observer, which makes you want to read everything she writes, just to see how she interprets things. The whole "greenhouse" she encounters during her stay at a huge country house in Germany where all the press were camped out - is incredible because she takes the fact of the greenhouse (and the one legged gardener, and his devotion to cyclamens) and extrapolates out of that the meaning of the entire German people following the war. It's not a stretch. This is a woman who observed history, who knew revolutions and wars, who understood tyranny on a deep Hannah-Arendt level.

Yet she was also a humanist. This gives her writing the power and scope that it has.

She sat in the press box in the court room at Nuremberg, for months on end, and observed, taking in everything: the zaniness of much of it (due, perhaps, to the fact that a trial like this had never occurred before), the behavior of the "defendants" (what a good eye she has), and thoughts on what all of this would actually mean. What exactly is going on here? She makes insightful observations - which probably rang uneasily in the minds of her contemporaries, who were still under the sway of the glorious revolution going on in Russia, something she never fell prey to. For example, she notes that the international judges, each read different parts of what each defendant was accused of. Here she observes:

It turned out that the Russian was reading the part of the judgment that condemned the Germans for their deportations: for taking men and women away from their homes and sending them to distant camps, where they worked as slave labour in conditions of great discomfort, and were often unable to communicate with their families. There was here a certain irony, and a certain warning.

The essay was written in 1946. It is fresh news. It was unpopular, at that moment in time, to criticize Russia - for various reasons - and many just decided to stick their heads in the sand, to avoid uncomfortable truths. That was never Rebecca West's bag.

She's good on all aspects here - atmosphere, context, analysis - this is journalism of the highest order, a dying art, which is one of the reasons why I love Robert Kaplan so much. If you read his books (which are part travelogue, part journalism, part history), and his long articles in The Atlantic Monthly, you can see a similar context at work. It doesn't surprise me at all that he considers Rebecca West to be his idol as well. You can feel him trying to be as good as her, in his thoughts, analysis, and perspective. In many respects, he succeeds. My favorites of his are The Ends of the Earth: From Togo to Turkmenistan, from Iran to Cambodia, a Journey to the Frontiers of Anarchy, Warrior Politics: Why Leadership Demands a Pagan Ethos, and the aforementioned Balkan Ghosts. Recently Kaplan has become quite involved in the US military, which connects him inextricably to a group - something I view warily, because I care so much about his work. I would hate to see him lose his perspective due to his affinity for one particular group. All of that being said, the two books he has written about the US military (and he plans on writing two more, I believe) are massive accomplishments that I consider to be required reading, for anyone looking for context. Again: he is looking at things through a prism, another kind of lens than a jingoistic "my country right or wrong" lens, which may be satisfying in the short-term, but certainly won't last as a work of literature past the current generation. His two books (Imperial Grunts and Hog Pilots, Blue Water Grunts) are fantastic examinations of the US military, its purpose and mission, but also its place in history. He talks to people. He gives great portraits of the men and women fighting in our military. You get to know them. He has traveled the world (obviously). He is not afraid to look deeply. He has spent his career examining other cultures - traveling through Iran and Indonesia and Turkey. In An Empire Wilderness: Travels into America's Future, he took that same journalistic observational eye he has turned on other cultures, and turned it on America. That one also is a must-read, actually. Bah. Just read all of his books, won't you? He's one of the few authors out there where I wait with baited breath for his latest.

But back to Rebecca West. (It is hard to talk about her without referencing the generations of writers she inspired ...)

I was particularly riveted by West's observations about the defendants in the Nuremberg Trials, some more monstrous than others. Here are a couple of excerpts showing her thoughts on Hermann Wilhelm Göring, which gives just a taste of her gift. There really is nobody else like her.

And though one had read surprising news of Göring for years, he still surprised. He was so very soft. Sometimes he wore a German Air Force uniform, and sometimes a light beach suit in the worst of playful taste, and both hung loosely on him, giving him an air of pregnancy. He had thick brown young hair, the coarse bright skin of an actor who has used grease paint for decades, and the preternaturally deep wrinkles of the drug addict. It added up to something like the head of a ventriloquist's dummy. He looked infinitely corrupt, and acted naively. When the other defendants' lawyers came to the door to receive instructions, he often intervened and insisted on instructing them himself, in spite of the evident fury of the defendants, which, indeed, must have been poignant, since most of them might well have felt that, had it not been for him, they never would have had to employ these lawyers at all. One of these lawyers was a tiny little man of very Jewish appearance, and when he stood in front of the dock, his head hardly reaching to the top of it, and flapped his gown in annoyance because Göring's smiling wooden mask was bearing down between him and his client, it was as if a ventriloquist had staged a quarrel between two dummies.

Göring's appearance made a strong but obscure allusion to sex. It is a matter of history that his love affairs with women played a decisive part in the development of the Nazi party at various stages, but he looked as one who would never lift a hand against a woman save in something much more peculiar than kindness. He did not look like any recognized type of homosexual, yet he was feminine. Sometimes, particularly when his humour was good, he recalled the madam of a brothel. His like are to be seen in the late morning in doorways along the steep streets of Marseille, the professional mask of geniality still hard on their faces though they stand relaxed in leisure, their fat cuts rubbing against their spread skirts. Certainly there had been a concentration on appetite, and on elaborate schemes for gratifying it; and yet there was a sense of desert thirst. No matter what aqueducts he had built to bring water to his encampment, some perversity in the architecture had let it run out and spill on the sands long before it reached him. Sometimes even now his wide lips smacked together as if he were a well-fed man who had heard no news as yet that his meals were to stop. He was the only one of all these defendants who, if he had the chance, would have walked out of the Palace of Justice and taken over Germany again, and turned it into the stage for the enactment of the private fantasy which had brought him to the dock.

As is well-known, the day before Göring was to be put to death, he killed himself in his cell. Rebecca West has some choice words about that event.

The executions were to take place on October 16. Some time during the preceding night Göring killed himself. The enormous clown, the sexual quiddity with the smile which was perhaps too wooden for mockery and perhaps not, had kicked the tray out of the hands of the servants who were bringing him the wine of humiliation, the glasses had flown into the air and splintered with a sound too much like laughter. This should not have happened. We are all hunters, but we know ourselves hunted by a mightier hunter, and our hearts are with the hunted, and we rejoice when the snared get free of the snare. In this moment visceral mournfulness changed to visceral cheerfulness; we had to applaud for the flesh that would not accept the doom that had been dealt to it but changed it to an expression of defiance. All those people who had fled from Nuremberg, British and American and French, who were scattered over the world, trying to forget the place of their immurement, would straighten up from whatever they had been bent over and burst out laughing before they could help themselves, saying, "That one! We always knew he would get the better of us yet." Surely all those Germans who walked through the rubble of their cities while their conquerors drove, they too would halt, and throw back their heads, and laugh, and say, "That one! We always knew he would get the better of them yet."

Göring should not have been permitted even this small amelioration of his doom. True, we now know some reasons for feeling that he might have been allowed to get a little of his own back. Like all the Nazis, he had been plagued by the attentions of the psychiatrists who haunted Nuremberg Jail, exercising a triple function of priest and doctor and warder hard to approve. They visited the men in the cells and offered themselves as confidants, but performed duties at the behest of the court authorities. When some of the defendants seemed to be taking an unrepentant pro-Nazi stand in their line of defence, one of the psychiatrists worked out, at the commandant's request, a plan for a new seating arrangement at the lunch table in order to break up this group and expose them to other influences. It is not easy to think of an accused person on trial before a national tribunal being subjected to such manipulation by prison officials. There was no silver lining to this cloud. One of these psychiatrists has related, without humorous intention, that when Göring asked him what a certain psychological test had revealed about his character, he replied that it had shown that he lacked the guts to face responsibility. Göring had also the benefit of spiritual care of a remarkably robust kind. He asked the Lutheran chaplain to give him Holy Communion on the night before the executions, but the chaplain refused, on the ground that he was probably shamming.

Nevertheless Göring should not have been given the chance to use his courage to weaken public horror at his crimes, to which his courage was not relevant. The Nazis were maniacs who plastered history with the cruelty which is a waste product of man's moral nature, as maniacs on a smaller scale plaster their bodies and their clothes with their excreta. Since sanity is to some extent a matter of choice, a surrender to certain stimuli and a rejection of others, the nature of mania should never be forgotten. It is unfair, not only to Germans, but to all the world, if the vileness of the Nazis be extenuated; and it was unfair that this Nazi of all Nazis should have been allowed to disguise his gross dementia. This suicide meant a long-term danger to human standards, and it might have meant a short-term danger too, had it not been for the severity of the following winter. Germany was to be ice-bound and water-logged and had no time to think of reviving the Nazi party; and if that stretch of bad weather broke Europe's heart, it also broke the continuity of popular political thinking and forced it on to a fresh phase not shadowed by resentment at conquest. But the Allies had failed idiotically in a prime matter. All to no purpose had the military policeman in the CIP gallery shaken the venerable Lord of Appeal and bidden him wake up and uncross his legs. All to no purpose had his colleague waved his club round the ears of the judge and asked him how the hell he had got in. All to no purpose had the maternal colonel shadowed our passes with his pendulous bosom. The cyanide had freely flowed.

She is magnificent. A Train of Powder is a must-read.

The boat cemetery

Ryszard Kapucinski in his book Imperium writes:

Central Asia is deserts and more deserts, fields of brown weathered stones, the heat from the sun above, sandstorms.

But the world of the Syr Darya and the Amu Darya is different. Arable fields stretch along both rivers, abundant orchards; everywhere profusions of nut trees, apple trees, fig trees, palms, pomegranates...

The waters of the Syr Darya and the Amu Darya, as well as of their tributaries, allowed famous cities to arise and to flourish --Bukhara and Khiva, Kokand and Samarqand. This way, too, passed the loaded-down caravans of the Silk Road, thanks to which the markets of Venice and Florence, Nice and Seville, acquired their importance and color.

Brezhnev decided to turn all of Uzbekistan into one large cotton plantation. He wanted Uzbekistan to be a showpiece of Bolshevik ingenuity. Environmentalists are rightly angry about what has happened to the Aral Sea, and have spearheaded literally every plan to save it, but to blame it on global warming is not just incorrect, it's a-historical. It's like blaming the famine in the Ukraine in 1933 or the famine in Ireland in 1847 on a couple of years of bad crops. Yes, the powers that be may want you to think that, but those were man-made disasters, conscious and conniving. While perhaps (perhaps! I am not prepared to go that far!) the destruction of the Aral Sea was an unintended consequence of moronic agricultural planning, I do not let the powers-that-be off the hook.

Communism treated nature and the natural world as just another element of production, to be controlled, dominated, manipulated. So that is what Brezhnev set out to do in Uzbekistan: no longer would the people along the two rivers grow fruit, and figs and apples (things they could actually survive on). All of their orchards and green fields were appropriated by the Soviet state, and planted with cotton. The repercussions of this ill-thought-out move were (and are) apocalyptically disastrous.

Uzbekistan is not a natural for cotton plantations. It's a desert. The people along the two great rivers lived in careful equilibrium with nature, growing things to support their communities, carefully handling the water supply, carefully monitoring how many people lived in each oasis ... because oases are not meant to overflow with people. One too many camels, and suddenly your water supply dries up. Brezhnev bulldozed through Uzbekistan, upending all of the orchards, all of the fields, and forced everybody to plant cotton.

Kapuscinski describes this process:

First, bulldozers were brought in from all over the Imperium. The hot metal cockroaches crawled over the sandy plains. Starting from the banks of the Syr Darya and the Amu Darya, the steel rams began to carve deep ditches and fissures in the sand, into which the water from the rivers was then channeled. They had to dig an endless number of these ditches (and they are still digging them now), considering that the combined length of the Syr Darya and the Amu Darya is 3,662 kilometers! Then along those canals, the kolkhoz workers had to plant cotton. At first they planted upon desert barrens, but because there was still not enough of the white fibers, the authorities ordered that arable fields, gardens, and orchards be given over to cotton. It is easy to imagine the despair and terror of peasants from whom one takes the only thing they have -- the currant bush, the apricot tree, the scrap of shade. In villages, cotton was now planted right up against the cottage windows, in former flower beds, in courtyards, near fences. It was planted instead of tomatoes and onions, instead of olives and watermelons. Over these villages drowning in cotton, planes and helicopters flew, dumping on them avalanches of artificial fertilizers, clouds of poisonous pesticides. People choked, they had nothing to breathe, went blind.

The rivers Amu and Syr Darya had been doing their thing for millennia. By diverting the waters of the rivers, by imposing an artificial restriction on them, the delicate balance of the desert land changed ... and it changed rapidly.

Kapuscinski:

The fields of rice and wheat, the green meadows, the stands of kale and paprika, the plantations of peaches and lemons, all vanished. Everywhere, as far as the eye could see, cotton grew. Its fields, its white drowsy sea, stretched for tens, hundreds of kilometers.

Grigory Reznichenko wrote a book in 1989 called The Aral Catastrophe, and he elaborates:

Around 20 million people live in the countryside in Central Asia. Two-thirds work with cotton and really with nothing else besides. Farmers, gardeners, orchard keepers have all had to change profession -- they are now employed as laborers on cotton plantations. Coercion and fear compel them to work with cotton. Coercion and fear, for it surely isn't money. One earns pennies harvesting cotton. And the work is tiring and monotonous. To fulfill his daily quota, a man mustbend down ten to twelve thousand times. An atrocious, forty-degree heat [Celsius], air that stinks of virulent chemicals, aridity, and constant thirst destroy the human being, especially women and children ... people pay with their health and their life for the personal well-being and power of a handful of demoralized careerists.

The "careerists" in Moscow would agree upon, beforehand, the amount of the coming cotton harvest. It was always a number which was completely unattainable. Then when the smaller harvest came in, Brezhnev and his nitwits would inflate the numbers and spread positive propaganda about the miracle they had worked in Uzbekistan. The "cotton mafia" got rich off of the completely imaginary massive cotton harvests. And the people working the cotton starved, because no longer could they feed themselves with their own orchards.

But all of this is pretty much just the normal tragedy (with different details) of all of the republics in the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. The Communists raped the land, enslaved the citizens, and closed the borders. This is all par for the course.

What makes the tragedy in Uzbekistan stand out is the Aral Sea, the once-beautiful and vital Aral Sea, a sea which, in a matter of 25 years, has dried up off the face of the earth, creating global ecological issues.

The Soviets over-taxed the Amu and Syr Darya rivers, they cut tributaries into the desert, to divert the water where they wanted it to go. And almost immediately (the balance of nature is so delicate in any desert), both of the ancient and great rivers began to dry up, and shrink to nothing. Amu and Syr are what feed the Aral Sea. So the drying up of the two rivers had massive consequences for the Aral Sea, which began to shrink. It shrank so rapidly that if you look at satellite photographs of the sea, from 1967 to 1997, you see it almost completely disappear.

Kapuscinski again:

The waters of the Syr Darya and the Amu Darya, instead of flowing into the Aral Sea, were, according to man's will, sqandered along the way, spilled over fields, over unending deserts, along an immense distance of more than 3000 kilometers. For this reason, the calm and broad currents of both powerful rivers -- the only source of life in this part of the world -- instead of swelling and intensifying in the course of their journey (as is customary in nature), began to decline, to shrink, to get narrower and shallower, until, short of reaching the sea, they were transformed into salty, poisoned, and muddy pools, into spongy and foul-smelling ditches, into treacherous puddles of duckweed, finally sinking below ground and disappearing from view.

So the rivers shrink. Because the river shrinks, the sea disappears. And then there's the issue with salt. Here's some info about what the Aral Sea once was (I got this from the Aral Sea homepage):

The salt deposits rising to the surface because of the shrinking of the rivers destroyed the land, and because of all the windstorms and duststorms common to deserts, these salt deposits also ruined the atmosphere. This was exacerbated by all of the pesticides which had soaked into the land over the decades, so the pesticides are stirred up by the windstorms, and spread, ruining the air for miles and miles around.

Kapuscinski on the salt problem:

It is a known fact that a dozen or so meters below the surface of every desert lie large deposits of concentrated salt. If water is conducted to it, the salt, together with the moisture, will rise to the surface. And that is exactly what happened now in Uzbekistan. The concealed, crushed, deeply secreted salt started to move upward, to regain its liberty. The golden land of Uzbekistan, which was first cloaked in the white of cotton, was now glazed over with a lustrous crust of white salt.

But one doesn't have to study the ground. When the wind blows, one can taste the salt on one's lips, on one's tongue. It stings the eyes.

More:

The Aral Sea and its tributaries provided sustenance for 3 million people. But the fate of this sea and its two rivers also impinges on the situation of all the inhabitants of this region, of whom there are 32 million.

The Soviet authorities have long worried about how to reverse the disaster -- the destruction of the Aral Sea, the ruination of half of Central Asia. It is after all well known that the unprecedented increase in cotton cultivation has led to a tragic shortage of water, a shortage that is destroying a large part of the world (a fact which to this day continues to be concealed).

Then, of course, the USSR collapsed. Although the USSR was an ungainly bohemoth, an "evil empire", and although this whole mess was their fault in the first place, they still were the only ones aware enough of the problem to try to find solutions. Granted their "solutions" were insane: bombing glaciers in the Tienshan and Pamir mountains, for example, so that the run-off would flood the land again was one of their bright ideas, or redirecting the rivers of Siberia (thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away) to come down into Uzbekistan, so that Brezhnev's crazy dream of a Land of Cotton could be realized. This, if they had followed through with it, of course would have meant the ruination of Siberia.

Once the USSR collapsed, Uzbekistan was completely abandoned. All of the Russians who knew how to do anything fled the country, leaving it in the hands of a down-trodden uneducated populace, a populace who still remembers the sea, but who now live in a stinking polluted desert, with nowhere to go. And so the Aral Sea has died.

Environmental groups all over the world have stepped in, to try to save the situation. The Soviets had enslaved the Uzbeks and had given them no sense of agency in their destinies, they just were forced to harvest the cotton imposed on them, and tried to live their lives, while the environmental disaster in their own country intensified almost on a minute to minute basis. People die much earlier there. People get weird unclassifiable diseases. People are poisoned.

It's a lost cause.

So the Aral Sea is shrinking, and a process of "desertification" is taking place. The sands growing more and more insistent, taking over more and more acreage ... there are photos of once flourishing fishing villages overrun by giant dunes.

Kapuscinski, on his travels, visits Muynak, which was, literally only a couple of years ago, a fishing port on the Aral Sea.

[Muynak] now stands in the middle of the desert; the sea is 60 to 80 kilometers from here. Near the settlement, where the port once was, rusting carcasses of trawlers, cutters, barges, and other boats lie in the sand. Despite the fact that the paint is peeling and falling off, one can still make out some of the names: Estonia, Dagestan, Nahodka. The place is deserted; there is no one around ...

It is a sad settlement -- Muynak. It once lay in the spot where the beautiful life-giving Amu Darya flowed into the Aral Sea, an extraordinary sea in the heart of a great desert. Today, there is neither river nor sea. In the town the vegetation has withered; the dogs have died. Half the residents have left, and those who stayed have nowhere else to go. They do not work, for they are fishermen, and there are no fish. Of the Aral Sea's 178 species of fish and frutti di mare, only 38 remain. Besides, the sea is far away; how is one to get there across the desert? If there is no strong wind, people sit on little benches, leaning against the shabby and crumbling walls of their decrepit houses. It is impossible to ascertain how they make a living; it is difficult to communicate with them about anything. They are Karakalpaks -- they barely speak any Russian, and the children no longer speak Russian at all. If one smiles at the people sitting against the walls, they become even more gloomy, and the women veil their faces. Indeed, a smile does look false here, and laughter would sound like the screech of a rusty nail against glass.

Children play in the sand with a plastic bucket that's missing a handle. Ragged, skinny, sad. I did not visit the nearest hospital, which is on the other side of the sea, but in Tashkent I was shown a film made in that hospital. For every 1000 children born, 100 die immediately. And those that survive? The doctor picks up in his hands little white skeletons, still alive, although it is difficult to tell.

One of my goals in life is to someday see the "boat cemetery" in the now-dried-up Aral Sea. It would be a terrible trip, haunting and sad (I am haunted by the big sign with a fish on it, from where a fish market used to be - now surrounded by a huge desert) ... but it is something I have been longing to see for about ten years now, maybe more.

Sometimes, in quieter moments, I suddenly think about those boats sitting in the desert all the way across the world. They're there right now, rusting and being eaten up by the rapidly-spreading dunes.

It's something I think it is important to acknowledge, first of all ... but it's also something I just really want to see.

RIP Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good. Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either, but right through every human heart, and through all human hearts.

-- Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Gulag Archipelago

NY Times obit here. Here's the obit in The Irish Times. Here is the text of the famous speech he gave at Harvard in 1978 (a choice quote: "But should someone ask me whether I would indicate the West such as it is today as a model to my country, frankly I would have to answer negatively. No, I could not recommend your society in its present state as an ideal for the transformation of ours. Through intense suffering our country has now achieved a spiritual development of such intensity that the Western system in its present state of spiritual exhaustion does not look attractive. Even those characteristics of your life which I have just mentioned are extremely saddening."

Let's not simplify the man, or make him less complex. He was a posterboy for no one. Infuriating, independent, beat of his own drummer, fearless. God.

Here's a lengthy article in Time.

And I've been waiting for the inevitable: Christopher Hitchens' piece, which opens with:

Every now and then it happens. The state or the system encounters an individual who, bafflingly, maddeningly, absurdly, cannot be broken. Should they manage to survive, such heroes have a good chance of outliving the state or the system that so grossly underestimated them. Examples are rather precious and relatively few, and they include Nelson Mandela refusing an offer to be released from jail (unless and until all other political detainees were also freed) and Alexander Solzhenitsyn having to be deported from his country of birth against his will, even though he had become—and had been before—a prisoner there.

More:

But it seems that Solzhenitsyn did have a worry or a dread, not that he himself would be harmed but that none of his work would ever see print. Nonetheless—and this is the point to which I call your attention—he kept on writing. The Communist Party's goons could have torn it up or confiscated or burned it—as they did sometimes—but he continued putting it down on paper and keeping a bottom drawer filled for posterity. This is a kind of fortitude for which we do not have any facile name. The simplest way of phrasing it is to say that Solzhenitsyn lived "as if." Barely deigning to notice the sniggering, pick-nose bullies who followed him and harassed him, he carried on "as if" he were a free citizen, "as if" he had the right to study his own country's history, "as if" there were such a thing as human dignity.

The Vaclav Havel rule of living in a totalitarian society. Just live "as if" you were free.

I just happened to be up now - late for me - when the news came in. I have no words. A truly great man. (I've been adding links to this post since I heard the news at around 1 am this morning).

Here's an excerpt from his Gulag Archipelago, one of the most important books of the 20th century.

Shaking my head. Strange. How it feels like a personal loss.

The world was a better place, a more honorable place, a place where bravery was possible, and where truth was always louder than lies ... because he was in it.

He won the Nobel Prize in 1970, and did not attend the ceremony for fear that the Russians would retaliate by depriving him of his Russian citizenship. As much as he despised the totalitarian regime in Russia, he didn't want to be cut off to that degree. He had family in Russia, a wife, a child on the way. So he did not attend the ceremony. Instead he sent a speech that was read at the banquet. Here is the full text. He closes with:

And I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to the members of the Swedish Academy for the enormous support their choice in 1970 has given my works as a writer. I venture to thank them on behalf of that vast unofficial Russia which is prohibited from expressing itself aloud, which is persecuted both for writing books and even for reading them. The Academy have heard for this decision of theirs many reproaches implying that such a prize has served political interests. But these are the shouts of raucous loudmouths who know of no other interests. We all know that an artist's work cannot be contained within the wretched dimension of politics. For this dimension cannot hold the whole of our life and we must not restrain our social consciousness within its bounds.

Photo of Solzhenitsyn in 1946 in the gulag.

Rest in peace. No more words.

I wasn't aware that Sean Hannity read me on a regular basis ...

.. but he must because I got an email last night about this photo - and the email said: "You posted a picture of the recruiting station but you didn't condemn the bombing. Why didn't you condemn it?"

Some people have wayyyyyyyyy too much time on their hands.

But then I read the emails that Dooce gets and they make my Sean Hannity email-er look like a wuss.

"The wedding is off!"

Mr. Macedonia-Obama Man has emailed me. Here is what he writes:

You know ... I was going to ask you to marry me, but now that I have found out how snarky you can be ... the wedding is off!

I love how he declares "the wedding is off" as though I would have had no say in any of it anyway. What wedding? The one in your head, bro? Is your name Muriel, by any chance? Do I even know you? He also seems to assume that I should be flattered by his near-proposal.

So he's just gonna take his toys and go home now! "The wedding is off!" stamp-stamp-stamp-slam door! That'll show her! See what she's turning down! She'll miss me, boy, I'll show her!

People are so crazy. I find it exhausting. And yet also kind of funny. Like I said in that first post: my Macedonia book excerpt continues to get me into trouble and brings me the attentions of all sorts of lunatics.

My book excerpts

... on occasion get me into trouble. A couple highlights:

-- one of my excerpts is now being linked approvingly by a porn site out of the United Arab Emirates which features fat naked ladies having every orifice filled at the same moment in time. Awesome! Needless to say, the book they link to (ON THEIR MAIN GOLDURN PAGE) is not a porn book. It is a novel. I don't know what to do about such situations. Who do I contact to say (in Arabic), "Take that fucking link off your filthy site"?

-- one of my excerpts is being linked to approvingly in a post that contains the words, "Now I am not comparing Obama to Hitler, but ..." Oh. Of course you're not. Needless to say, the book they link to has nothing to do with Obama - it's a book that describes the swooning response of crowds to Hitler in the 1930s. Again, it's an odd thing. How do you say, "Please don't ever link to me again"? Oh well. The blog has ZERO traffic as far as I can tell. So that's good. God forbid some moron comes from that person's site to my site and think that I in any way agree or endorse such ridiculous thinking.

-- one of my excerpts about Macedonia CONTINUES to get me into trouble. A flame-war broke out in Cyrillic on a Macedonian message-board a couple years ago - using MY STUPID BOOK EXCERPT as a launching-off place. I have now received an email from some dude saying, "Do you want to make a big splash in the media this election year? Do some posts on the Macedonia-Obama connection." If you read me for even 2 seconds, you know I have no interest in "making a big splash in the media". Or at least not the media he's talking about. I'd love to have film reviews published in "the media" - but that's not what this dude has in mind. He's all fired up with his CAUSE! And obviously it was that stupid book excerpt that I posted in freakin' 1982 that brought him to my site. But it's a good book excerpt. Biased, yes - but I just post the excerpt. Food for thought. I have considered taking it down - because I certainly don't want to ignite a civil war just because I posted a dumb paragraph from a book. I did enjoy seeing people arguing over the book excerpt in another language - and I actually received some lovely emails in stilted English from Macedonians not only thanking me for my thoughts but thanking me for even knowing where Macedonia is and that it exists. I do what I can to counter-act Kellie Pickler's horrific ignorant influence. One blog-post at a time.

2007 Year in Pictures

Protest

Happy birthday, Vaclav Havel

He's one of my personal heroes, for many reasons. He's a hero to me as an artist, as well as a politician, and I don't have too many political heroes. At least not ones who are alive. But him? Yes. And as an artist, it's an amazing story - and I would hope that I could behave as he did under similar circumstances. You just never know until you are tested. But his is an example, an example of who we should WANT to be. His thing was that he lived in an un-free society - but that he would behave as if he were free. The magic "as if".

He wrote an essay about it, an amazing essay about that whole "as if" philosophy of life. And therefore: the years of arrests, suppression, censorship - the years where he was far more famous outside of his own country - because we in the world got to see and read his plays while his own countrymen were not allowed to. But Vaclav Havel, a hero, continued to behave as if he were free. He did not internalize the censorship and oppression from without. It did not become him. He remained outside of it.

If you think that's an easy thing to accomplish, then you don't know your history.

Vaclav Havel wrote once:

Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

(Here's his personal website .)

I remember reading a great and detailed piece on him in The New Yorker - and it's still available online. Here it is. Print it out to savor it when you have a moment. Havel fans won't want to miss it.

Ivan Klima writes of Havel(this is from an essay in his wonderful book about the revolution in Czechoslovakia - the book is called The Spirit of Prague):

Totalitarianism correctly understood the threat this cultural resistance posed, but the nature of that power ruled out any accommodation or compromise. It continued to battle against literature. It raided private flats and detained people who had gathered there to listen to lectures or the reading of a play or something as innocent as lyric poetry. It confiscated manuscripts from poets, prose writers and philosophers, both local and translated works, just as it did documents from Charter 77. From time to time it held trials in which judgement was passed on those who copied texts or organized other kinds of cultural activitiy. Because these people were clearly innocent, even according to the laws in force, the outcome of these trials were the opposite of what the authorities intended. They were meant to intimidate, but they succeeded only in unmasking power, in revealing it for the unprincipled, prejudiced and philistine force it was. This merely stiffened people's resistance. Early samizdat publications came out in tiny editions of tens of copies; by the eighties, books were being reproduced in many workshops, the technology of reproduction was modernized, and the number of titles mushroomed. (The literary samizdat enterprise Padlock Editions published three hundred titles.) In the seventies, there were practically no samizdat cultural journals; by the eighties, there were more than a hundred unofficial magazines. (At the same time, there were only five official magazines dealing with culture.)

Sasmizdat literature was only one of the ways in which the repressed culture expressed itself. There were seminars in philosophy, and lecture series were held on different areas of the humanities. Young people frequently tried to distance themselves entirely from the pseudo-culture offered to them by the authorities. They founded small theatres, and from the seventies on, the most authentic expression of their relationship to the ruling system was the protest song. Singers who were closest to them in age and attitude became their idols. The authorities reacted predictably, and one generation of protest singers was essentially driven into exile, but as usual, the results were the opposite of what was intended.

By the late eighties, the international situation was undoubtedly influential. Those who represented power and those who represented culture were clearly squared off against each other. Several events also sharpened the conflict between the authorities and those who were trying to extricate themselves from their toils. The authorities frequently used police brutality to break up memorial assemblies to commemorate the country's national holiday or the memory of Jan Palach, a student who had set fire to himself, and died, in protest against the Soviet invasion. Those who came to pay their respects to a person who symbolized the possibility of individual protest taken to its furthest extreme became the object of a violent attack by special units who used truncheons, water-cannons, and tear-gas. People, mostly the young, decided not to give way to violence. For five consecutive days the peaceful assemblies were repeated, and on four occasions the police used violence to break them up. Several people were arrested, Vaclav Havel among them. During these events, which aroused the emotions of the whole country, the cruel truth about power was publicly revealed for the first time. At this critical juncture, the government could not find a single person with sufficient authority to address the nation. No one was willing to give public support to the regime, but many could be found to protest against police brutality, against imprisoning the innocent. Among the protestors were actors, filmmakers, and writers who, until then, the regime had believed to be "on its side".

In this critical situation, the authorities -- and it is hard to say whether this was out of stupidity or desperation or arrogance, or the awareness that they were indeed indelibly tarnished -- refused all invitations by the cultural opposition to take part in a dialogue. The deep chasm between totalitarian power and all the "shaken", to use Patocka's term, became unbridgeable. It was clear that any further error, any further act of arrogance, might be fatal.

What happened in November 1989 is well known. As an eyewitness and a participant, I wish to emphasize that this revolution, which really was the outcome of a clash between culture and pwoer, was the most non-violent revolution imaginable. In the mass meetings attended by up to three-quarters of a million people, no one was hurt, not a window was broken, not a car damaged. Many of the tens of thousands of pamphlets that flooded Prague and other cities and towns urged people to peaceful, tolerant action; not one called for violence. For those who still believe in the power of culture, the power of words, of good and of love, and their dominance over violence, who believe that neither the poet nor Archimedes, in their struggle against the man in uniform, are beaten before they begin, the Prague revolution must have been an inspiration.

Vaclav Havel wrote:

People who live in the post-totalitarian system know only too well that the question of whether one or several political parties are in power, and how these parties define and label themselves, is of far less importance than the question of whether or not it is possible to live like a human being.

In honor of his birthday today - and really, there's so much more to say about this truly extraordinary man - I will post the text of a speech he made on January 1, 1990, immediately following all of the extraordinary changes which had occurred in his country.

The first time I read the speech (I have it in a book of mine: "greatest speeches of the 20th century"), I was sitting on a crowded subway. By the end, tears were rolling down my face. If anyone noticed I was crying, I am sure they would never have guessed the reason - and would have thought I was insane if they had asked.

"Ma'am, are you all right? Why are you crying? Did your boyfriend break up with you?"

"Oh ... uh ... no." (sob) "I'm crying because of Vaclav Havel's speech to the Czech people in 1990."

".....Oh..."

Havel's speech, broadcast on the radio, set the tone for all that was to follow. It is referred to as "the contaminated moral environment" speech. After decades of double-speak, decades of being lied to by their own government, decades of muffling their true sentiments, Vaclav Havel stood up and told the truth. He had been preparing for this moment since the 1960s.

And that's another thing. We, as human beings, can recognize truth when we hear it.

Czeslaw Milosz, another famous dissident, brilliant poet, said in his speech accepting the Nobel Prize: "In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot." This is the atmosphere into which Vaclav Havel spoke, on that momentous day in 1990.

We know when we're being lied to, deceived. Truth is unmistakable, and Havel knew that. And Havel did not let the Czech people off the hook - another reason why the "velvet revolution" was so amazing. It was not about pointing fingers, screaming, "YOU DID THIS TO US". Havel encouraged the Czech people to take responsibility for their destinies, to take responsibility for having endured the tyranny for so long, for having internalized it. The "contaminated moral environment" is not only about the Communist regime. He addressed that comment to every Czech person who had tolerated living under tyranny. No passing the buck, no blame. Take responsibility.

Imagine. How many leaders ever speak to their people in such a way? This speech is one of the myriad reasons that Vaclav Havel is one of my heroes.

Quotes from his extraordinary speech - I edited it a bit - but I am sure you can find the entire text online, or in books.

Vaclav Havel's Speech, Jan. 1, 1990

Our country is not flourishing. The enormous creative and spiritual potential of our nation is not being used sensibly ... We have polluted our soil, our rivers and forests, bequeathed to us by our ancestors, and we have today the most contaminated environment in Europe. Adult people in our country die earlier than in most other European countries.

But all this is still not the main problem. The worst thing is that we live in a contaminated moral environment. We fell morally ill because we became used to saying something different from what we thought. We learned not to believe in anything, to ignore each other, to care only about ourselves. Concepts such as love, friendship, compassion, humility, or forgiveness lost their depth and dimensions, and for many of us they represented only psychological peculiarities, or they resembled gone-astray greetings from ancient times, a little ridiculous ...

The previous regime -- armed with its arrogant and intolerant ideology -- reduced man to a force of production and nature to a tool of production ... It reduced gifted and autonomous people, skillfully working in their own country, to nuts and bolts of some monstrously huge, noisy, and stinking machine, whose real meaning is not clear to anyone ...

When I talk about contaminated moral atmosphere ... I am talking about all of us. We had all become used to the totalitarian system and accepted it as an unchangeable fact and thus helped to perpetuate it. In other words, we are all -- though naturally to differing extremes -- responsible for the operation of the totalitarian machinery; none of us is just its victim: we are all also its co-creators ...

We have to accept this legacy as a sin we committed against ourselves. If we accept it as such, we will understand that it is up to us all, and up to us only, to do something about it. We cannot blame the previous rulers for everything, not only because it would be untrue but also because it could blunt the duty that each of us faces today, namely, the obligation to act independently, freely, reasonably and quickly ... Freedom and democracy include participation and therefore responsibility from us all.

If we realize this, then all the horrors that the new Czechoslovak democracy inherited will cease to appear so terrible. If we realize this, hope will return to our hearts ...

In the effort to rectify matters ... we have something to lean on. The recent period -- and in particular, the last six weeks of our peaceful revolution -- has shown the enormous human, moral, and spiritual potential and civil culture that slumbered in our society under the enforced mask of apathy. Whenever someone categorically claimed that we were this or that, I always objected that society is a very mysterious creature and that it is not wise to trust only the face it presents to you. I am happy that I was not mistaken. Everywhere in the world people wonder where those meek, humiliated, skeptical, and seemingly cynical citizens of Czechoslovakia found the marvelous strength to shake from their shoulders in several weeks and in a decent and peaceful way the totalitarian yoke...

There are free elections and an election campaign ahead of us. Let us not allow this struggle to dirty the so far clean face of our gentle revoltuion ... It is not really important now which party, club, or group will prevail in the elections. The important thing is that the winners will be the best of us, in the moral, civil, political and professional sense, regardless of their political affiliations ...

In conclusion, I would like to say that I want to be a president who will speak less and work more. To be a president who will ... always be present among his fellow citizens and listen to them well.

You may ask what kind of republic I dream of. Let me reply: I dream of a republic independent, free, and democratic, of a republic economically prosperous and yet socially just, in short, of a humane republic which serves the individual and which therefore holds the hope that the individual will serve it in turn. Of a republic of well-rounded people, because without such it is impossible to solve any of our problems, human, economic, ecological, social, or political.

People, your government has returned to you!

Related

These are related in topic. They are also related in the fact that they give me GREAT joy. The perfection of the humor.

1. "I never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with a lot of pleasure."

-- Clarence Darrow (it's his birthday today, by the way)

2. This was one of FDR's favorite anecdotes: Every day at a busy newsstand, the newsboy saw the same thing: A man, on his way to catch the trolley, would come to the stand, buy the paper, look quickly at the front page, throw the paper in the trashcan, and run on his way. Every single day the newsboy observed this behavior. This went on for months. Years, even. Finally, the newsboy's curiosity got the better of him. The next morning, the same man, on his way to catch the trolley, came to the newsstand, bought the paper, looked at the front page, threw the newspaper in the trashcan, and started to dash off to the trolley, but this time the newsboy stopped him. "Excuse me, Mister - can I ask you a question?" Harried, impatient, the man said, "Sure, kid, what?" The newsboy asked, "Every day you come here, buy the paper, look at the front page, throw the paper out, and walk away. Why?" The man said, "I'm lookin' for the obituaries, kid." Even more confused the kid asked, "But the obituaries are at the back of the paper." The man replied, "Kid, the son-of-a-bitch I'm lookin' for will be on Page One."

The Books: "Warrior Politics" (Robert Kaplan)

And here is my next excerpt of the day from my library.

My history bookshelf. Onward.

Next book on this shelf is called Warrior Politics: Why Leadership Demands a Pagan Ethos by Robert Kaplan.

The main set-up of this book, while not original, is a really good read in Kaplan's hands. Kaplan's first book published after September 11 (but very soon after - so the bulk of it was probably written pre-Sept. 11) - Warrior Politics looks to ancient and not-so-ancient philosophers, thinkers, and leaders for ways to look at the challenges facing the world today. So we've got a chapter on Sun-Tzu, a chapter on Kant, a chapter on Machiavellie, Hobbes, Malthus - all those big guys.

I'll post a bit from the Machiavelli chapter. Mainly cause I dig Machiavelli. Also cause I just finished His Excellency (Ellis' superb biography of George Washington) - and there's quite a Machiavellian strain in Washington. Not because he sat around and studied Machiavelli, but because he LIVED it - in the early years of his life, fighting the French and Indian War, and with other aspects of his life (changing crops, land acquisition, becoming commander-in-chief, fighting the Revolutionary War). It was not just VIRTUE that got him through all this stuff, and he thought, actually, that "patriotism" was not a reason to do anything. Or it was all well and good, but it wouldn't SUSTAIN anything. Quote from George himself:

Men may speculate as they will, they may talk of patriotism; they may draw a few examples from current story � but whoever builds upon it as a sufficient basis for conducting a long and bloody war will find themselves deceived in the end � For a long time it may of itself push men to action, to bear much, to encounter difficulties, but it will not endure unassisted by Interest.

Over and over and over in his life, he faced this. He believed in INTEREST, that was the only way to establish relationships between human beings, and also between nations. He didn't believe in "trust" - at least not in any pure ideal way. He was suspicious of it. He knew that everyone acted through their own Interests - and if they didn't, or if they said they didn't, they were probably lying. Which is a very Machiavellian concept.

So - here's the excerpt.

From Warrior Politics: Why Leadership Demands a Pagan Ethos by Robert Kaplan.

The Prince, as well as Machiavelli's Discourses on Livy, are full of bracing insight. Machiavelli writes that foreign invaders will support local minorities over the majority in order "to weaken those who are powerful within the country itself" -- which is how European governments behaved in the Middle East in the nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, when they armed ethnic minorities against the Ottoman rulers. He writes about the difficulty in toppling existing regimes because rulers, no matter how cruel, are surrounded by loyalists, who will suffer if the ruler is deposed; in this, he anticipated the difficulty of replacing dictators such as Saddam Hussein. "All armed prophets succeed whereas unarmed ones fail," he writes, anticipating the danger of a bin Laden. Savonarola was an unarmed prophet who failed, while the medieval popes, along with Moses and Mohammed, were armed prophets who triumphed. Hitler was an armed prophet, and it required an extraordinary effort to vanquish him. Only when Mikhail Gorbachev made it clear that he would not defend Communist regimes in Eastern Europe with force was it possible for the unarmed prophet Vaclav Havel to succeed.

Nevertheless, Machiavelli may go too far. Wasn't he himself an unarmed prophet who succeeded in influencing statesmen for centuries with only a book? Wasn't Jesus an unarmed prophet whose followers helped bring down the Roman empire? One must always keep in mind that ideas do matter, for better and worse, and to reduce the world merely to power struggles is to make cynical use of Machiavelli. But some academics and intellectuals go too far in the other direction: they try to reduce the world only to ideas, and to neglect power.

Values -- good or bad -- Machiavelli says, are useless without arms to back them up: even a civil society requires police and a credible judiciary to enforce its laws. Therefore, for policymakers, projecting power comes first; values come second. "The power to hurt is bargaining power. To exploit it is diplomacy," writes the political scientist Thomas Schelling. Abraham Lincoln, the ultimate prince, understood this when he said that American geography was suited for one nation, not two, and that his side would prevail, provided it was willing to pay the cost in blood. Machiavelli's prince, Cesare Borgia, failed to unite Italy against Pope Julius, but Lincoln was sufficiently ruthless to target the farms, homes, and factories of Southern civilization in the latter phase of the Civil War. Thus Lincoln reunited the temperate zone of North America, preventing it from falling prey to European powers and creating a mass society under uniform laws.

Virtue is more complex than it seems. Because human rights are a self-evident good, we believe that by promoting them we are being virtuous. But that is not always the case. If the United States had pressed too hard for human rights in Jordan, King Hussein might have been weakened during his struggles for survivial in the 1970s and 1980s. The same is true in Egype, where a US policy dominated completely by human rights concerns would weaken President Hosni Mubarak, whose successor would likely have even less regard for human rights. The same is true for Tunisia, Morocco, Turkey, Pakistan, the Republic of Georgia, and many other countries. Though regimes such as Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, and China are oppressive, the power vacuum that would likely replace them would cause even more suffering.

For Machiavelli, virtue is the opposite of righteousness. With their incessant harping on values, today's Republicans and Democrats alike often sound less like Renaissance pragmatists than like medieval churchmen, dividing the world sanctimoniously between good and evil.

Isaiah Berlin's observation that Machiavelli's values are moral but not Christian raises the possibility of several just but incompatible value systems existing side by side. For example, had Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore subscribed to America's doctrine of individiual liberties, the meritocracy, public honesty, and economic success fostered by his mild authoritarianism might have been impossible. While Singapore ranks near the top of key indexes on economic freedom -- freedom from property confiscation, from capricious tax codes, from burdensome regulations, and so on -- the West African state of Benin, a parliamentary democracy, stands in the bottom quarter of such indexes.

Machiavelli's ideal is the "well-governed patria," not individual freedom. The "well-governed patria" may at times be incompatible with an aggressive media, whose search for the "truth" can yield little more than embarrassing facts untempered by context, so the risk of exposure may convince leaders to devise new methods of secrecy. The more the barons of punditry demand "morality" in complex situations overseas, where all the options are either bad or involve great risk, the more virtu our leaders may need in order to deceive them. Just as the priests of ancient Egypt, the rhetoricians of Greece and Rome, and the theologians of medieval Europe undermined political authority, so too do the media. While suspicion of power has been central to the American Creed, presidents and military commanders will have to regain breathing space from media assaults to deal with the challenges of split-second decision making in future warfare.

Machiavelli's ideals influenced the Founding Fathers of the United States. The Founders certainly had more faith in ordinary people than Machiavelli did. Nevertheless, their recollection of the debacle of Oliver Cromwell's parliamentary rule in mid-seventeenth-century England made them healthily suspicious of the masses. "Men are ambitious, vindictive, and rapacious," writes Alexander Hamilton, echoing Machiavelli's (and, unwittingly, the ancient Chinese). That is why James Madison preferred a "republic" (in which the whims of the masses are filtered through "their representatives and agents") over direct "democracy", in which the people "exercise the government in person ..."

The core of Machiavelli's wisdom is that primitive necessity and self-interest drive politics, and that this can be good in itself, because competing self-interests are the basis for compromise, while stiff moral arguments lead to war and civil conflict, rarely the better options.

Machiavelli exphasizes that "all the things of men are in motion and cannot remain fixed." Thus, primitive necessity is irresistible, because, as Harvard professor Harvey C. Mansfield explains, "A man or a country may be able to afford generosity today but what of tomorrow?" The United States may have the power to intervene in East Timor today, but then can we afford to fight in the Taiwan Strait and the Korean Peninsula tomorrow? The answer may well be yes. If we have the means to stop a large-scale human rights tragedy, it is a good in and of itself to do so -- provided that we confront our capabilities not only for this day, but for the next. In an age of constant crises, "anxious foresight" must be the centerpiece of any prudent policy.

The Books: "The Penguin Book of 20th-Century Speeches"

And here is my next excerpt of the day from my library.

My history bookshelf. Onward.

The second book on this shelf is another favorite of mine called The Penguin Book of 20th-Century Speeches . An AWESOME resource. It's not the "greatest" speeches - in that, there is not editorial control saying: "We approve of THIS person's views, and therefore we include it in the collection, we don't approve of THAT person's views and therefore we do not include his speech ..." For example, there are speeches of Stalin and Hitler included. Chilling. Absolultely chilling. It's good to have the "greatest" speeches as well - for inspiration and for all that feel-good shite - but in terms of learning the truth of history, it's GREAT to have an archive like this one. You can actually, if you read the book straight through, start to feel the march of historic events. Amazing. We've got Patrick Pearse, and Teddy Roosevelt's muckraker speech and Lenin and Lloyd George and Emmeline Pankhurst and Sacco and Vanzetti - Oswald Mosley, Oppenheimer, Kwame Nkrumah, Castro, Bertrand Russell, Neville Chamberlain, FDR, Patton ... etc. etc. Salman Rushdie, JFK, Krushchev, Martin Luther King, Alexander Solzhenitsyn ... You get the idea. It's a terrific book. Here is where you can see the full text of Vaclav Havel's INCREDIBLE speech that he made on January 1, 1990 - which I read to myself, on occasion, if I need an uplifting experience.

I highly recommend this book, obviously.

I will post William Faulkner's Nobel Prize acceptance speech. It's a doozy. An amazing triumphant statement of the role of the artist in the world. It makes me want to cry. I will also print out the excerpt preceding the speech, so you can get the context.

From The Penguin Book of 20th-Century Speeches .

WILLIAM FAULKNER
Stockholm, 10 December 1950
"The agony and the sweat"

When William Faulkner (1897 - 1962), the creator of Yoknapatawpha County and author of As I Lay Dying and The Sound and the Fury, won the Nobel Prize, he bought his first dress suit for the occasion and decided to go to Stockholm for the prize-giving.

At the state banquet, the quiet farmer from Oxford, Mississippi, appeared before a microphone and television camera for the first time and said that he declined to accept the end of man.

I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work -- a life's work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will someday stand here where I am standing.

Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: when will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.

He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed -- love and honour and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labours under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope, and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grive on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.

Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simplyl because he will endure; that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endue: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honour and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man; it can be one of the props, the pillars, to help him endure and prevail.

The Books: "The Collapse of Communism" (NY Times)

And here is my next excerpt of the day from my library.

I have now finished with the first bookshelf - in my kitchen - and have decided to now do excerpts from the books in my History/Biography bookshelf. I'm scared! But I will press on.

The first 3 shelves of this particular bookcase is my "history" section. As will become apparent - it is mainly the history of totalitarian regimes around the globe.

First book on this shelf is a favorite of mine called The Collapse of Communism - and it's a compilation of every article on the events in Eastern Europe, Central Asia, Russia and China (well - all over, actually) - from The New York Times - from winter 1988 to Summer 1991. We leap around - and because we read the actual articles, and not just a retrospective report on it - we feel like we are once again right in the middle of events. Things were happening almost too quickly for anyone to grasp.

It's a great resource, this book. I reference it all the time. They include, of course, enormous pieces of reportage - front-page articles - but then the editors also include the smaller human interest stories - which really give you a sense of the individuals involved.

It's hard to even choose an excerpt - the book is huge with so much in it ... reportage from all over the world - But I just flipped through and picked out one excerpt - it gives you a real sense of the immediacy of the whole book. It's from an article written on August 23, 1991. It's by Henry Kamm, and he writes from Tallinn, Estonia.

From The Collapse of Communism, by New York Times correspondents round the world - edited by Bernard Gwertzman

The Icons Topple

Tallinn, Estonia, Aug. 23 - From late afternoon well into the evening, the people of this capital city did something they said they had never done -- they flocked to Communist Party headquarters; then they stood there and laughed.

They stood in a large arc that constantly renewed itself as men, women and children came and went and stared and pointed at an empty marble pedestal. Until early today, a larger-than-life bronze statue of Lenin had stood there in the familiar rhetorical pose, opposite the entrance to the modern headquarters building.

A crew came this morning and carried out a Government decision to remove the statue in the aftermath of the failure of the coup by doctrinaire Communists against the Government of President Mikhail S. Gorbachev.

"It was done with respect," said Aino Siiak, a retired economist, her voice full of sarcasm. "A crane came; they put a chain around his neck and took the great philosopher away."

While in Lithuania and Latvia, the two other Baltic republics, the Communist Party was virtually outlawed today, Estonians expressed their sentiments through a symbolic act.

"Estonians do things slowly," Mrs. Siiak said. "We have no temperament." The way in which she and many others at the scene gave vent to long-suppressed emotion suggested otherwise. Voices trembled and faces quivered as Estonians recalled their sentiments through the tumultuous days that began with the ouster of Mr. Gorbachev on Monday.

The comfort of conspiracy theories

The thing about conspiracy theories are ... they are comforting. They assure you that there is some ORDER in the universe, that there are connections between not just some events, but ALL events. There are no such things as coincidences in the middle of a conspiracy theory. When I've been in love with someone, and he hasn't loved me back ... I tend to read into all the coincidences - he likes this and so do I - therefore THAT means that we should be together ... etc. I draw conclusions based on COINCIDENCES. This is a very human thing, but I certainly wouldn't want to LIVE in that mind-space. Where everything means something, and every random event means something. It must be what it feels like to be an end-of-the-world apocalyptic Christian. The wind blows from the East ... Therefore, the end of the world is coming. It is a place of CERTAINTY. I know that human beings, in general, are uncomfortable with uncertainty. Of course. It's awful to just accept that you CAN'T know what is going to happen. But that's the deal, that to me is one of the points of life: to be able to BEAR uncertainty. Conspiracy theorists absolutely cannot bear uncertainty. And the truly paranoid ones are the ones who just can't deal with reality. The reality sometimes is quite simple. But it's NEVER simple to a conspiracy theorist.

If you are a conspiracy theorist - you see connecting threads everywhere. Your mindset becomes grandiose, paranoid ... You believe in the essential BIG-ness of things. By that I mean: everything happens on a grand scale. There is some kind of over-riding SENSE to be made of things ... and if you can only connect enough of the threads ... you will be able to see clearly, through the veil of lies put out by some enormous organization - the government, the CIA, the ATF, the Rat Pack (Marilyn Monroe's death, in case you're wondering), whatever - you will pierce through the lies and come close to the actual root of all power. You believe that there IS a root of all power. NOTHING is coincidental. There is no chaos. EVERYTHING makes sense, in a kind of unbearable way. It appears on the surface to be chaos, but if you can just make sense of the cacophony, you will see the wizard behind the curtain. You will actually SEE him. The most important thing for a conspiracy theorist is that they actually have to believe that there IS a wizard in the first place. They have to believe that someone, somewhere, no matter how hidden, knows the TRUTH of what is going on ... and someone, somewhere, holds the KEY to putting the pieces together ...

To a conspiracy theorist, there is actually such a thing as power - plus efficiency. Power plus efficiency plus an ability to keep a secret. These three things MUST exist in a very very real way to conspiracy theorists, and they must be interlocked. I believe in power. I believe in efficiency. And I believe that there is such a thing as being able to keep a secret. But do I believe that those three particular things can actually go hand in hand? Not on your LIFE.

I'm fascinated by conspiracy theorists. It seems to me it would be very comforting if I could believe what they believe. If I could believe that someone, somewhere, knew what the hell they were doing ... and if only I could pierce through the web of LIES ... I could come close to the source of real power. It would be comforting to actually believe that there WAS a secret, and that I could pull back the curtain to see the phony wizard.

I can see why people succumb to the conspiracy theory mindset. It makes perfect sense to me.

It's a childlike response to the unfairness of things - the fact that we can't KNOW everything - the fact that some things just HAPPEN. The conspiracy theorist cannot stop asking "Why?" Asking "why" is not a bad thing. As a matter of fact, people who don't ask "Why" freak me out. They seem like dumbbells. Sheep. Willing to believe anything. They have their OWN kind of certainty. But if you know any conspiracy theorists - and I do - then you know that their "Why"s get more and more elaborate, more and more paranoid ... Nothing ever just IS to a conspiracy theorist. That CAN'T be all there is. There are NO accidents.

Now, to me - I can certainly succumb to a conspiracy theory mindset. It is extremely compelling and attractive. How wonderful would it be to truly believe that someone out there knew what the hell he was doing. Whoever that person is. This is one of the reasons why politics, government, coup d'etats, revolutions - all that stuff - has so gripped my fascination for so many years. Why? I was talking to CW about this once (because frankly, he seems like the kind of guy who "knows stuff" - hahaha), and I said, "I just ... want to get high enough up in my learning ... so that I can know what the big guys know. Like ... how high up in power do you have to go to really get a nice view of the whole landscape?" I want to get up high enough to really be able to SEE ... surely SOMEONE out there has the whole picture in mind!

But I actually think that, in general, very very very few people have the whole picture. I have my own opinion about the people who have large pictures in their minds ... you might have your own. To me, guys like Robert Kaplan are looking at a large picture. Christopher Hitchens. VS Naipaul. Ryzsard Kapuscinski (his essay called "The Soccer War" is a perfect example of what I am talking about. The ability to be improvisational, flexible, and to admit that you do not KNOW something - Kapuscinski didn't know what was going on, and yet - all signals pointed to war, because of the riot at a soccer game. Maybe that doesn't seem logical - so what that they're rioting at a soccer game? ... but impending war was what he sensed, and turns out that he was right, that was what was REALLY going on. Anyone who gives a crap about how things really happen in this world should read "The Soccer War" and that's all I'm saying. Genius.) People like Bernard Lewis. Elias Canetti. Or the obvious choice of Samuel Huntington. Perhaps the best example is Rebecca West. Now there was a woman with large global pictures in her head. Her accomplishment in this regard has so far not been matched. Now you may disagree with some of these people's conclusions. I disagree with some of their conclusions too. But to me? Those people are BIG PICTURE PEOPLE, and what they see is a reflection of what I see. It's just that they have better access than I do, and bigger vocabularies. But when I read their stuff, I start to feel like I can actually get a GLIMPSE of how things work.

You'll notice that NONE of these people are government people. They are independent thinkers, writers, journalists.

But again - it's a short list. Like I said: "very very very few people". And "very very very few people" cannot create some vast conspiracy involving multiple government agencies. My small group of friends can barely keep a secret among us. Fuggedaboutit.

Lastly: in general, I think that government is pretty much incompetent. I mean, please. Let us look at how much governments have gotten WRONG in the last 100 years. Enormous globe-changing events NOT predicted or foreseen - despite the fact that massive bureaucracies have been put into place for that sole purpose alone, signals missed, signals crossed, signals misinterpreted, huge wars hitting us by surprise ... etc. etc. Now, if there was some all-powerful Wizard behind some curtain - wouldn't you think he would be able to SEE what was coming?

I don't think the government is competent enough to tie its own shoes, let alone create vast international conspiracies. Bureacracies in general. Sheesh. Filled with incompetent people who don't give a shite. On a tiny level: Have you called the DMV lately and tried to get a change of address on your license? Incompetence is indemic.

The other thing about conspiracy theorists is that unless you believe what they believe they are impossible to talk to. There is not a rational mind at work there. They are delusional. And these people are not crazy. They are regular people, not in need of institutionalization, but they are delusional. You can't have a rational discussion with them, and try to point out the holes in their big elaborate theories. It's like trying to have a rational discussion about interpretations of the Bible with an evangelical born-again Christian. You cannot pierce their certainty. You cannot. Their entire worldview is set up so that their certainty is unpierceable. You can never get "in there" with them. Because they know the truth. And that's final. The Bible is THEIRS. End of story. They've got an answer for everything. How comforting, right? How comforting to truly believe that you know it all.

However, again - I see the attraction. I'm as fascinated by Area 51 as the next girl. And after I read Marilyn: The Last Take I became CONVINCED that Marilyn's death was orchestrated by the highest levels of our government, to shut her up. Now ... some of this may indeed be true - but again, when you come right down to it: what I know about most governnmental organizations is that they are slothful bureaucratic mazes full of incompetent unimaginative people who could not be flexible or improvisational if you put a gun to their heads.

It would be comforting to believe in vast interlinking conspiracies. It really would be. It would be comforting to believe that bureaucracies were actually EFFICIENT enough to cover up ANYTHING ... instead of believing that they were bumbling careerists trying to protect their small bit of turf. It would be comforting to believe that there IS a big picture, and, like I said to CW ... if I could just get high enough up ... I could SEE what was REALLY going on up there.

I just don't believe that there is any "there there".

"Let us add, if we please, but let us preserve what they have left"

Read this on the bus this morning. From Reflections on the Revolution in France, by Edmund Burke:

The improvements of the national assembly are superficial, their errors fundamental.

Whatever they are, I wish my countrymen rather to recommend to our neighbours the example of the British constitution, than to take models from them for the improvement of our own. In their former they have got an invaluable treasure. They are not, I think, without some causes of apprehension and complaint; but these they do not owe to their constitution, but to their own conduct. I think our happy situation owing to our constitution; but owing to the whole of it, and not to any part singly; owing in a great measure to what we have left standing in our several reviews and reformations, as well as to what we have altered or superadded. Our people will find employment enough for a truly patriotic, free, and independent spirit, in guarding what they possess, from violation. I would not exclude alteration neither; but even when I changed, it should be to preserve. I should be led to my remedy by a great grievance. In what I did, I should follow the example of our ancestors. I would make the reparation as nearly as possible in the style of the building. A politic caution, a guarded circumspection, a moral rather than a complexional timidity were among the ruling principles of our forefathers in their most decided conduct. Not being illuminated with the light of which the gentlemen of France tell us they have got so abundant a share, they acted under a strong impression of the ignorance and fallibility of mankind. He that had made them thus fallible, rewarded them for having in their conducts attended to their nature. Let us imitate their caution, if we wish to deserve their fortune, or to retain their bequests. Let us add, if we please, but let us preserve what they have left; and, standing on the firm ground of the British constitution, let us be satisfied to admire rather than attempt to follow in their desperate flights the aeronauts of France.

The Books: "The Federalist Papers" (Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, John Jay)

Next in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Next book in my politics/philosophy section is:

The Federalist Papers (Penguin Classics), by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay.

Written in a period of months from 1787 to 1788 - spearheaded by Alexander Hamilton (otherwise known as "Sheila's dead boyfriend") - the 85 essays that appeared in 4 of the 5 newspapers in New York were created in order to convince the people of the state of New York why they should agree to the ratification of the Constitution. The Constitutional Congress concluded in the early fall of 1787, with all of the delegates returning to their respective states to begin the ratification process. What ended up being known as "The Federalist Papers" were a blitzkrieg of pro-Constitution propaganda. We are so lucky to have them. If you want to understand the Constitution? Read the Federalist Papers. They set out to explain to the reluctant public (who were, in general, horrified at this idea of an "energetic" national government) why a Constitution was necessary, and the whys and wherefores of each part of it. It's an extraordinary work - hugely important - and really explains the inner workings of the grand experiment called the United States. Hamilton did the lion's share of the work (no surprise there - the man was unbelievable. Was he a mortal man or some freak of nature? His productivity was astonishing). Madison wrote, what is perhaps, the most well-known of the papers - Federalist # 10 (I babbled about it here, on the morning of election day), where he warns against faction and the creating of political parties (although he didn't use that word). Fascinating that Madison later, with the turbulent election of 1800, become a genius at party politics. No matter. His Federalist #10 should be required reading. I want to stand over certain politicians in Washington and feed it to them manually. (Now that's an image.)

Each essay appeared under the name "Publius". The depth and breadth of the essays are amazing, considering the speed in which they were written, and the frequency in which they appeared. Frankly, the entire series takes my breath away.

Hamilton is an interesting case. Born illegitimate (in the immortal words of one of his many enemies, John Adams: "the bastard brat of a Scotch peddler"), in the Caribbean - he came to the United States at the age of 15 to further his education. Because he was not affiliated with any one State, his concerns were different than the other delegates at the Constitution, his outlook completely original. He believed in AMERICA, not in a particular State. His loyalty was to the Union, from the beginning. I think his perspective allowed him to see farther ahead than anybody else. Truly. He predicted the industrial revolution, far before anyone else did, for example. It would no longer be land that would make someone wealthy, it would be money itself. You wonder how he did it - but I really think it had something to do with his foreign birth, his hard-scrabble beginnings, and the fact that he came to America as an outsider.

The excerpt for today is from Federalist # 15, one of a couple of essays in the series where Hamilton takes on the old Articles of Confederation that Congress, with its new Constitution, was looking to get rid of. He predicts that the Articles will not be strong enough to handle the problems of the nation in the future. The States must consolidate.

"they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names"

"If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them."

Incredible.

EXCERPT FROM The Federalist Papers (Penguin Classics), by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay.

As almost every State will be one side or the other, be a frontier, and will thus find in a regard to its safety, an inducement to make some sacrifices for the sake of the general protection; so the States which lie at the greatest distance from the heart of the union, and which of course may partake least of the ordinary circulation of its benefits, will be at the same time immediately contiguous to foreign nations, and will consequently stand on particular occasions, in greatest need of its strength and resources. It may be inconvenient for Georgia or the States forming our western or north eastern borders to send their representatives to the seat of government, but they would find it more so to struggle alone against an invading enemy, or even to support alone the whole expence of those precautions, which may be dictated by the neighborhood of continual danger. If they should derive less benefit therefore from the union in some respects, than the less distant States, they will derive greater benefit from it in other respects, and thus the proper equilibrium will be maintained throughout.

I submit to you my fellow citizens, these considerations, in full confidence that the good sense which has so often marked your decisions, will allow them their due weight and effect; and that you will never suffer difficulties, however formidable in appearance or however fashionable the error on which they may be founded, to drive you into the gloomy and perilous scene into which the advocates for disunion would conduct you. Hearken not to the unnatural voice which tells you that the people of America, knit together as they are by so many chords of affection, can no longer live together as members of the same family; can no longer continue the mutual guardians of their mutual happiness; can no longer be fellow citizens of one great respectable and flourishing empire. Hearken not to the voice which petulantly tells you that the form of government recommended for your adoption is a novelty in the political world; that it has never yet had a place in the theories of the wildest projectors; that it rashly attempts what it is impossible to accomplish.

No my countrymen, shut your ears against this unhallowed language. Shut your hearts against the poison which it conveys; the kindred blood which flows in the veins of American citizens, the mingled blood which they have shed in defence of their sacred rights, consecrate the union, and excite horror at the idea of their becoming aliens, rivals, enemies. And if novelties are to be shunned, believe me the most alarming of all novelties, the most wild of all projects, the most rash of all attempts, is that of rending us in pieces, in order to preserve our liberties and promote our happiness. But why is the experiment of an extended republic to be rejected merely because it may comprise what is new? Is it not the glory of the people of America, that whilst they have paid a decent regard to the opinions of former times and other nations, they have not suffered a blind veneration for antiquity, for custom, or for names, to overrule the suggestions of their own good sense, the knowledge of their own situation, and the lessons of their own experience? To this manly spirit, posterity will be indebted for the possession, and the world for the example of the numerous innovations displayed on the American theatre, in favor of private rights and public happiness.

Had no important step been taken by the leaders of the revolution for which a precedent could not be discovered, no government established of which an exact model did not present itself, the people of the United States might, at this moment, have been numbered among the melancholy victims of misguided councils, must at best have been labouring under the weight of some of those forms which have crushed the liberties of the rest of mankind. Happily for America, happily we trust for the whole human race, they pursued a new and more noble course. They accomplished a revolution which has no parallel in the annals of human society: They reared the fabrics of governments which have no model on the face of the globe. They formed the design of a great confederacy, which it is incumbent on their successors to improve and perpetuate. If their works betray imperfections, we wonder at the fewness of them. If they erred most in the structure of the union; this was the work most difficult to be executed; this is the work which has been new modelled by the act of your Convention, and it is that act on which you are now to deliberate and to decide.

PUBLIUS.

The Books: "Reflections on the Revolution in France" (Edmund Burke)

Next book in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Next book in my politics/philosophy section is:

Reflections on the Revolution in France, by Edmund Burke.

All I can really say is is that this book is essential reading. That's all. After I read it for the first time, I couldn't believe that there was a time in my life when I hadn't read it. It had a huge impact - in Burke's day, and in mine. Extraordinary.

Wow. That last sentence reminds me of the quote I posted from The Language Police and our ensuing discussion. It reminds me of the misguided (and to me, infuriating) crusade of Catherine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin. In having an incompete understanding of history - in wanting to provide redress to those with grievances - in saying they are fighting 'intolerance' - they have become just like the intolerant folks they scream about.

The victim becomes the oppressor. The revolution eats its young.

EXCERPT FROM Reflections on the Revolution in France, by Edmund Burke.

We do not draw the moral lessons we might from history. On the contrary, without care it may be used to vitiate our minds and to destroy our happiness. In history a great volume is unrolled for our instruction, drawing the materials fo future wisdom from the past errors and infirmities of mankind. It may, in the perversion, serve for a magazine, furnishing offensive and defensive weapons for parties in church and state, and supplying the means of keeping alive, or reviving dissensions and animosities, and adding fuel to civic fury. History consists, for the greater part, of the miseries brought upon the world by pride, ambition, avarice, revenge, lust, sedition, hypocrisy, ungoverned zeal, and all the train of disorderly appetites, which shake the public with the same

---troublous storms that toss
The private state, and render life unsweet.

These vices are the causes of those storms. Religion, morals, laws, prerogatives, privileges, liberties, rights of men, are the pretexts. The pretexts are always found in some specious appearance of a real good. You would not secure men from tyranny and sedition, by rooting out of the mind the principles to which these fraudulent pretexts apply? If you did, you would root out every thing that is valuable in the human breast. As these are the pretexts, so the ordinary actors and instruments in great public evils are kings, judges, and captains. You would not cure the evil by resolving, that there should be no more monarchs, nor ministers of state, nor of the gospel; no interpreters of law; no general officers; no public councils. You might change the names. The things in some shape must remain. A certain quantum of power must always exist in the community, in some hands, and under some appellation. Wise men will apply their remedies to vices, not to names; to the causes of evil which are permanent, not to the occasional organs by which they act, and the transitory modes in which they appear. Otherwise you will be wise historically, a fool in practice.

Seldom have two ages the same fashion in their pretexts and the same modes of mischief. Wickedness is a little more inventive. Whilst you are discussing fashion, the fashion is gone by. The very same vice assumes a new body. The spirit transmigrates; and, far from losing its principle of life by the change of its appearance, it is renovated in its new organs wtih the fresh vigour of a juvenile activity. It walks abroad; it continues its ravages; whilst you are gibbeting the carcass, or demolishing the tomb. You are terrifying yourself with ghosts and apparitions, whilst your house is the haunt of robbers. It is thus with all those, who, attending only to the shell and husk of history, think they are waging war with intolerance, pride, and cruelty, whilst, under colour of abhorring the ill principles of antiquated parties, they are authorizing and feeding the same odious vices in different factions, and perhaps in worse.

The Books: "Two Treatises of Government" (John Locke)

Next in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Next book in my politics/philosophy section is:

Two Treatises of Government, by John Locke.

I came to John Locke obliquely. I figured I needed to read the works of the guy who had inspired "my guys" (heh heh) ... Having read so much about the Founding Fathers, John Locke's name comes up all the time, obviously, and so I took it upon myself to read the original.

Any and all political authority is rooted in the consent of the governed. A king is not a king if the people do not consent to his leadership. It is the "governed" who have the real spiritual power.

It has never been nailed down, with any certainty, when Two Treatises was published, but they (the infamous "they" - the experts) think that it appeared in between 1679 and 1681, at a time of great crisis and conflict in England. It's fascinating to read the debates on where and why Locke nailed down his ideas. Some think (and I believe that this was pretty much understood for quite some time) that it was written as a justification for the Revolution in England. Locke sympathized with Parliament when James II was forced from the throne. The idea that there needed to be restraints on the monarchy, and restraints on the absolute power of the monarch ... runs throughout the Second Treatise in particular. People have the right to resist absolute power.

The theory that Locke wrote his treatise in defense of the Revolution was debunked by two scholars - who determined that most of the Treatise had actually been written a decade earlier than previously thought. So any "justification of Revolution" idea had to be tossed out. As far as I understand, most of this is speculation on the part of scholars, and nothing has been nailed down. I am not a Locke expert, however ... but this is what I get from the little I have read. Scholars continue to debate Locke - his ideas, his relevance - he remains a controversial figure.

Ian Shapiro wrote the introduction to my copy of this book, and he concludes with a compare and contrast between John Locke and John Stuart Mill:

One cannot help but be struck by the affinities between Locke's argument in the Letter and John Stuart Mill's argument in On Liberty, even if Mill's principle is more capacious in extending the realm of what must be tolerated beyond religion and including all types of belief -- even atheism -- within it. But there are important underlying differences. Both writers define the limits to toleration in political terms by reference to when beliefs or actions become threatening to others, not by refernce to any claim about the validity of the beliefs themselves. And, even though Locke was profoundly religious while Mill could scarcely conceal his hostility to religion in general and Christianity in particular, both saw freedom of conscience and belief as the surest path to discovery of the truth in human affairs. But at the end of the day, Mill's commitment to freedom was for its own sake -- in this he was a true child of the Enlightenment. He saw individual freedom in the greatest good. For Locke, by contrast, freedom of conscience was valuable for the more Lutheran reason that he thought it essential to spiritual salvation. In this reasoning, as in many other matters taken up in our interpretive essays, Locke is something of a hybrid figure. He makes arguments that endure as defining features of political argument in the modern West, yet he does so in ways that reflect and embody premodern concerns. Reading Locke reveals that we have more complex links to our past than we might otherwise perceive.

There's so much to choose from in the Second Treatise, but I've decided to go with the concluding passage.

EXCERPT FROM Two Treatises of Government, by John Locke.

Here, it is like, the common question will be made, "Who shall be judge, whether the prince or legislative act contrary to their trust?" This, perhaps, ill-affected and factious men may spread amongst the people, when the prince only makes use of his due prerogative. To this I reply, "The people shall be judge;" for who shall be judge whether his trustee or deputy acts well, and according to the trust reposed in him, but he who deputes him, and must, by having deputed him, have still a power to discard him, when he fails in his trust? If this be reasonable in particular cases of private men, why should it be otherwise in that of the greatest moment, where the welfare of millions is concerned, and also where the evil, if not prevented, is greater, and the redress very difficult, dear, and dangerous?

But farther, this question ("Who shall be judge?") cannot mean that there is no judge at all: for where there is no judicature on earth, to decide controversies amongst men, God in heaven is judge. He alone, it is true, is judge of the right. But every man is judge for himself, as in all other cases, so in this, whether another hath put himself into a state of war with him, and whether he should appeal to the supreme Judge, as Jephthah did.

If a controversy arise betwixt a prince and some of the people, in a matter where the law is silent or doubtful, and the thing be of great consequence, I should think the proper umpire, in such a case, should be the body of the people: for in cases where the prince hath a trust reposed in him, an dis dispensed from the common ordinary rules of the law; there, if any men find themselves aggrieved, and think the prince cacts contrary to, or beyond that trust, who so proper to judge as the body of the people, (who, at first, lodged that trust in him) how far they meant it should extend? But if the prince, or whoever they be in the administration, decline that way of determination, the appeal then lies nowhere but to Heaven; force between either persons, who have no known superior on earth, or which permits no appeal to a judge on earth, being properly a state of war, wherein the appeal lies only to Heaven; and in that state the injured party must judge for himself, when he will think fit to make use of that appeal, and put himself upon it.

To conclude, The power that every individual gave the society, when he entered into it, can never revert to the individuals again, as long as the society lasts, but will always remain in the community; because without this there can be no community, no commonwealth, which is contrary to the original agreement: so also when the society hath placed the legislative in any assembly of men, to continue in them and their successors, with direction and authority for providing such successors, the legislative can never revert to the people whilst that government lasts; because, having provided a legislative with power to continue for ever, they have given up their political power to the legislative, and cannot resume it. But if they have set limits to the duration of their legislative, and made this supreme power in any person, or assembly, only temporary; or else, when by the miscarriages of those in authority it is forfeited; upon the forfeiture, or at the determination of the time set, it reverts to the society, and the people have a right to act as supreme, and continue the legislative in themselves; or erect a new form, or under the old form place it in new hands, as they think good.

The Books: "The Prince" (Niccolo Machiavelli)

Next in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Next book in my politics/philosophy section section:

The Prince, by Niccolo Machiavelli.

We first had to read this in high school. I remember it as drudgery. I flat out didn't get it. I read it again a couple years later, and the light dawned in on me. I "got" the book, I got its importance. Especially with all of my reading about the Founding Fathers, and their thoughts on government, and the workings of power, and the general corruptibility of man ... One of my favorite things about all "those guys" was how they were the opposite of idealists. They were deep-down hardened skeptics, actually - at least about mankind and human nature. Hence: the checks, the balances ... because man is not to be trusted with power. Ever.

Every time I read the book, it seems like there's something new there. Or it even seems like there are new sections altogether. I think: "Wait a sec ... did I ever actually read this section??" My relationship with the book is ongoing, it's one of those books that changes along with you.

It was difficult to choose an excerpt, because there was so much to choose from. I really like the section on armies. I love all the political and military history stuff ... but I'm gonna post, now, an excerpt from the famous chapter: "On Cruelty and Clemency, and Whether It Is Better to be Loved or Feared".

The edition that I have starts with an awesome introduction about the history of people's responses to this book. How "Macchiavellian" became a certain type of descriptive term pretty much in his lifetime. How the work is misunderstood, essentially. How it seems as if the only thing people remember from the book is "the ends justify the means", so let's call it a night. But that's not all there is, and the context of the book itself - why he wrote it - helps illuminate his concerns, his struggles.

He was exiled (long story ... look it up), and during his exile, he wrote The Prince. Here is a bit from a letter he wrote to a friend (I just love this - the details):

I am living in the country since my disgrace. I get up at dawn and go to the little wood where I see what work has been done ... [Then comes a long section where he discusses sitting outside, on a hill, reading Dante, Petrarch, Tibullus, Ovid. Then he goes to spend the afternoon at the inn, with the miller, the butcher, a cook, some bricklayers ...] [Spent the afternoon] with these boors playing cards or dice; we quarrel over farthings. When evening comes I return to the house and go into my study. Before I enter I take off my rough mud-stained country dress. I put on my royal and curial robes and thus fittingly attired I enter into the assembly of men of old times. Welcomed by them I feed upon that food which is my true nourishment, and which has made me what I am. I dare to talk with them, and ask them the reason for their actions. Of their kindness they answer me. I no longer fear poverty or death. From these notes I have composed a little work, The Prince.

I find that totally extraordinary. What a description. My favorite part is how he needed to change into his old court robes, even though he was now exiled from the court, in order to get to work in his study. Wow. Like - a sense of humility, awe, and respect ... when sitting down to contemplate Dante or Ovid. Sitting there in your mud-stained trousers would be the ultimate insult, and in order to "dare to talk with them", he had to be appropriately dressed. I love that.

Tycho Brahe, apparently, used to put on his court robes every time he looked through a telescope.

I think that's really cool.

EXCERPT FROM The Prince, by Niccolo Machiavelli.

From this arises the question whether it is better to be loved more than feared, or feared more than loved. The reply is, that one ought to be both feared and loved, but as it is difficult for the two to go together, it is much safer to be feared than loved, if one of the two has to be wanting. For it may be said of men in general that they are ungrateful, voluble, dissemblers, anxious to avoid danger, and covetous of gain; as long as you benefit them, they are entirely yours; they offer you their blood, their goods, their life, and their children, as I have before said, when the necessity is remote; but when it approaches, they revolt. And the prince who has relied solely on their words, without making other preparations, is ruined; for the friendship which is gained by purchase and not through grandeur and nobility of spirit is bought but not secured, and at a pinch is not to be expended in your service. And men have less scruple in offending one who makes himself loved than one who makes himself feared; for love is held by a chain of obligation, which, men being selfish, is broken whenever it serves their purpose; but fear is maintained by a dread of punishment which never fails.

Still, a prince should make himself feared in such a way that if he does not gain love, he at any rate avoids hatred; for fear and the absence of hatred may go well together, and will be always attained by one who abstains from interfering with the property of his citizens and his subjects or with their women. And when he is obliged to take the life of any one, let him do so when there is a proper justification and manifest reason for it; but above all he must abstain from taking the property of others, for men forget more easily the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony. [I guess Marx and Lenin didn't read their Machiavelli, huh?] Then also pretexts for seizing property are never wanting, and one who begins to live by rapine will always find some reason for taking the goods of others, whereas causes for taking life are rarer and more fleeting.

But when the prince is with his army and has a large number of soldiers under his control, then it is extremely necessary that he should not mind being thought cruel; for without this reputation he could not keep his army united or disposed to any duty. Among the noteworthy actions of Hannibal is numbered this, that although he had an enormous army, composed of men of all nations and fighting in foreign countries, there never arose any dissension either among them or against the prince, either in good fortune or in bad. This could not be due to anything but his inhuman cruelty, which together with his infinite other virtues, made him always venerated and terrible in the sight of his soldiers, and without it his other virtues would not have sufficed to produce that effect. Thoughtless writers admire on the one hand his actions, and on the other blame the principal cause of them.

And that it is true that his other virtues would not have sufficed may be seen from the case of Scipio (famous not only in regard to his own times, but all times of which memory remains), whose armies rebelled against him in Spain, which arose from nothing but his excessive kindness, which allowed more licence to the soldiers than was consonant with military discipline. He was reproached with this in the senate by Fabius Maximus, who called him a corrupter of the Roman militia. Locri having been destroyed by one of Scipio's officers was not revenged by him, nor was the insolence of that officer punished, simply by reason of his easy nature; so much so, that some one wishing to excuse him in the senate, said that there were many men who knew rather how not to err, than how to correct the errors of others. This disposition would in time have tarnished the fame and glory of Scipio had he persevered in it under the empire, but living under the rule of the senate this harmful quality was not only concealed but became a glory to him.

I conclude, therefore, with regard to being feared and loved, that men love at their own free will, but fear at the will of the prince, and that a wise prince must rely on what is in ihis power and not on what is in the power of others, and he must only contrive to avoid incurring hatred, as has been explained.

The Books: "Plato: Republic" (Plato)

Next book in my Daily Book Excerpt:

Say goodbye to 'cultural commentary', say hello to 'political thought through the ages'. Actually, it's probably more like politics/philosophy ... but who needs to get too rigid with this categorization stuff? Uhm ... I do?

First book in this section is Republic, by Plato.

I came to this book late - because I don't believe it was required reading in my Humanities classes in high school. Or maybe sections of it were. Regardless - I read this when I first came to New York. We read Aristotle's Poetics in my theatre history class - which I had read before - but that sparked an interest in Republic.

Republic is a series of meandering conversations between Socrates (who was Plato's mentor, I guess you would call it) and a student. Their topic? The ideal community. Socrates asks questions, drawing the student out, making the student think in a deeper way about all sorts of elemental things: what is happiness? Is it easier to be moral or immoral?

To my taste, when you get right down to it, what "Socrates" describes is a sort of benevolent dictatorship. It's very authoritarian, this community. The faceless masses ruled by a "philosopher king". There has to be a lot of indoctrination - if you 'educate' the people in how things should be, then they will succumb. There isn't the concept of "the individual".

Anyway, there are many interpretations of this work, and I'm not gonna get into that. I was fascinated by the politics in the book ... Plato was tormented by the same questions that, say, Thomas Jefferson was - when he sat down to write the Declaration of Independence. WHY are people good? WHY are people happy? Is it beneficial to the community? Let's not be too idealistic here: evil has its benefits too. Immoral people are not ALWAYS shunned - many of them rise to the highest positions in society, and wield great power and influence. So how can we say, without a doubt, that GOOD is its own reward, when obviously the opposite is also true? No facile answers allowed. Socrates won't let it pass.

Plato, also like our Founding Fathers, understood that man's natural impulses needed to be checked. No one is perfect, and all men have within them excesses that must be reined in if civilization is going to exist and flourish. Plato (through the Socrates character) talks a lot about education and social conditioning: if we can start very young with the kids, helping them to rein in their darker impulses, then the community just might survive.

I'm not wacky about a lot of his suggestions - they're too authoritarian for me -but who gives a crap what I think?? What is interesting is the way Plato frames the debate, and the way, in many cases, he STILL frames the debate today. About politics, morality, government, good vs. evil, society ... It's all in there.

It's also quite a readable book, since the whole thing is a conversation. It's very chatty.

Plato is really really rough on the poets ... there will be no poets in his Republic - he thinks poetry could destroy civilization - which is another reason why, er, I don't really want to live in his imagined community. His point is that anyone who makes it their job to "represent" something, is distanced from reality - and that's dangerous. My response to that is, well, not to be obnoxious, but: "Whatever, dude." The opinion Plato has of "representational poets" exists as well today. Funny: a lot of his dire warnings about the dangers of "representation" reminds me of the art of Islam, where the human figure is forbidden. No representational images allowed - which is why mosques are decorating with dizzying geometrical tile patterns, as opposed to statues, paintings of Muhammad, whatever you. No, it's all about the kaleidoscope pattern of colors, patterns the eye can lose itself in. There is nothing to latch onto, there is nothing for the eye to hold tightly to. You cannot imagine the people in the story, they are not given a human face - that is strictly forbidden. If you invest your life in creating an appearance of something, if your craft is representing reality ... then you really shouldn't be all that respected or listened to. Because you have chosen to live in a fantasy world, as opposed to reality. Again: Plato frames the debate in this chapter, and in a way - it's still being worked out today: what is the role of "artist" in any society? Plato doesn't want to let them in at all. F*** off, Plato! HOWEVER what he has to say about all of it is reaaaaallly interesting, and that's the excerpt below.

This is only the start of this fascinating conversation which takes up an entire chapter. Anyone who is an artist should most definitely read Plato's Republic because all of the questions asked by Socrates in that excerpt are questions that we should be asking ourselves.

I remember when Robert DeNiro came to my school to speak with us, he talked about the legendary amount of research he does for each role (if he's playing a homicide detective, he trains to be a homicide detective, and rides around with homicide detectives ... if he's playing a taxi driver, he gets a hack license and drives a taxi for a couple of months ... etc.) This is not just a gimmick. This is not: "oooh, look at me, look at my dedication" - The way DeNiro put it was - (and I loved this): "I need to earn the right to play the character."

What a cool and complex way to say it.

The character is something that is outside of him - who has a full life - and he, the measly actor - needs to earn the right to play him. But also: the character is representational of people in the "real" world - people who really are surgeons, or detectives, or bounty hunters, or saxophonists ... You mustn't disrespect these REAL people, who have these REAL jobs ... You need to "earn the right" to "pretend" - and that takes research. Any old schmuck can pretend to 'scrub in' but it will be a cliche, nothing that seems REAL, if he hasn't hung out with surgeons, if he hasn't immersed himself in the surgeon's world.

That's what came to mind as I looked through the excerpt above this morning. I do not see the dangers Socrates sees in a painter painting a shoe - and not knowing how the show itself was made ... but still: the question is interesting. Has the painter/poet/artist "earned the right" to represent reality to the audience? Who gives them that authority? Where does that power come from? Is it used humbly, or is it used arrogantly? Etc.

Anyway. Naturally, because this is MY blog and no one else's: Plato's Republic reminds me of Robert DeNiro. Ah yes, it all makes perfect sense.

EXCERPT FROM Republic, by Plato.

"Now, we'd better investigate tragedy next," I said, "and its guru, Homer, because one does come across the claim that there's no area of expertise, and nothing relevant to human goodness and badness either -- and nothing to do with the gods even -- that these poets don't understand. It is said that a good poet must understand the issues he writes about, if his writing is to be successful, and that if he didn't understand them, he wouldn't be able to write about them. So we'd better try to decide between the alternatives. Either the people who come across these representational poets are being taken in and are failing to appreciate, when they see their products, that these products are two steps away from reality and that it certainly doesn't take knowledge of the truth to create them (since what they're creating are appearances, not reality); or this view is valid, and in fact good poets are authorities on the subjects most people are convinced they're good at writing about."

"Yes, this definitely needs looking into," he said.

"Well, do you think that anyone who was capable of producing both originals and images would devote his energy to making images, and would make out that this is the best thing he's done with his life?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm sure that if he really knew about the things he was copying in his representations, he'd put far more effort into producing real objects than he would into representations, and would try to leave behind a lot of find products for people to remember him by, and would dedicate himself to being the recipient rather than the bestower of praise."

"I agree," he said. "He'd gain a lot more prestige and do himself a great deal more good."

"Well, let's concentrate our interrogation of Homer (or any other poet you like) on a single area. Let's not ask him whether he can tell us of any patients cured by any poet in ancient or modern times, as Asclepius cured his patients, or of any students any of them left to continue his work, as Asclepius left his songs. And even these questions grant the possibility that a poet might have had some medical knowledge, instead of merely representing medical terminology. No, let's not bother to ask him about any other areas of expertise either. But we do have a right to ask Homer about the most important and glorious areas he undertakes to expound -- warfare, tactics, politics, and human education. Let's ask him, politely, 'Homer, maybe you aren't two steps away from knowing the truth about goodness; maybe you aren't involved in the manufacture of images (which is what we called representation). Perhaps you're actually one step away, and you do have the ability to recognize which practices - in their private or their public lives - improve people and which ones impair them. But in that case, just as Sparta has its Lycurgus and communities of all different sizes have their various reformers, please tell us which community has you to thank for improvements to a government. Which community attributes the benefits of its good legal code to you? Italy and Sicily name Charondas in this respect, we Athenians name Solon. Which country names you?' Will he heave any reply to make?"

"I don't think so," said Glaucon. "Even the Homeridae themselves don't make that claim."

"Well, does history record that there was any war fought in Homer's time whose success depended on his leadership or advice?"

"No."

"Well then, are a lot of ingenious inventions attributed to him, as they are to Thales of Miletus and Anacharsis of Scythia? I mean the kinds of inventions which have practical applications in the arts and crafts and elsewhere. He is, after all, supposed to be good at creating things."

"No, there's not the slightest hint of that sort of thing."

"All right, so there's no evidence of his having been a public benefactor, but what about in private? Is there any evidence that, during his lifetime, he was a mentor to people, and that they used to value him for his teaching and then handed down to their successors a particular Homeric way of life? This is what happened to Pythagoras: he wasn't only held in extremely high regard for his teaching during his lifetime, but his successors even now call their way of life Pythagorean and somehow seem to stand out from all other people."

"No, there's no hint of that sort of thing, either," he said. "I mean, Homer's associate Creophylus' cultural attainments would turn out to be even more derisory than his name suggests they are, Socrates, if the stories about Homer are true. You see, Creophylus is said to have more or less disregarded Homer during his lifetime."

"Yes, that is what we're told," I agreed. "But, Glaucon, if Homer really had been an educational expert whose products were better people -- which is to say, if he had knowledge in this sphere and his abilities were not limited to representation -- don't you think he'd have been surrounded by hordes of associates, who would have admired him and valued his company highly? Look at Protagoras of Abdera, Prodicus of Ceos, and all the rest of them: they can use their exclusive tuition to make their contemporaries believe that without them in charge of their education they won't be capable of managing their own estates, let alone their communities, and they're so appreciated for this experties of theirs that their associates almost carry them around on their heads. So if Homer or Hesiod had been able to help people's moral development, would their contemporaries have allowed them to go from town to town reciting their poems? Wouldn't they have kept a tighter grip on them than on their money, and tried to force them to stay with them in their homes? And if they couldn't persuade them to do that, wouldn't they have danced attendance on them wherever they went, until they'd gained as much from their teaching as they could?"

"I don't think anyone could disagree with you, Socrates," he said.

"So shall we classify all poets, from Homer onwards, as representers of images of goodness (and of everything else which occurs in poetry), and claim that they don't have any contact with the truth? The facts are as we said a short while ago: a painter creates an illusory shoemaker, when not only does he not understand anything about shoemaking, but his audience doesn't either. They just base their conclusions on the colours and shapes they can see."

"Yes."

"And I should think we'll say that the same goes for a poet as well: he uses words and phrases to block in some of the colours of each area of expertise, although all he understands is how to represent things in a way which makes other superficial people, who base their conclusions on the words they can hear, think that he's written a really good poem about shoemaking or military command or whatever else it is that he's set out to metre, rhythm, and music. It only takes these features to cast this powerful a spell: that's what they're for. But when the poets' work is stripped of its musical hues and expressed in plain words, I think you've seen what kind of impression it gives, so you know what I'm talking about."

"I do," he said.

"Isn't it," I asked, "like what noticeably happens when a young man has alluring features, without actually being good-looking, and then this charm of his deserts him?"

"Exactly."

"Now, here's another point to consider. An image-maker, a representer, understands only appearance, while reality is beyond him. Isn't that our position?"

"Yes."

Let's play Tug of Peace.

Whatever happened to "tug of war"? Oh no, no. We can't play that, because "war" is too stressful for kids. We now must play "tug of peace", apparently. God forbid that children should be put in a competitive atmosphere, God forbid that they actually would LOVE to compete. No no no. Competition is bad. Cooperation is good. Therefore: Tug of Peace.

Lunacy. I have no desire to play Tug of Peace, thank you very much. But I loves me some Tug of War. Bring it on!!

My daily book excerpt today is from In Defense of Elitism.

And just now I came across this great Op-Ed column called Enough already with kid gloves, which proves William Henry's point five thousand fold.

One excerpt to whet your whistle:

In May 2002, for example, the principal of Franklin Elementary School in Santa Monica, Calif., sent a newsletter to parents informing them that children could no longer play tag during the lunch recess. As she explained, "In this game, there is a 'victim' or 'It,' which creates a self-esteem issue."

Is anything OK?

Which games are deemed safe and self-affirming? The National PTA recommends a cooperative alternative to the fiercely competitive "tug of war" called "tug of peace." Some professionals in physical education advocate activities in which children compete only with themselves, such as juggling, unicycling, pogo sticking, and even "learning to ... manipulate wheelchairs with ease."

But juggling, too, poses risks.

A former member of The President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports suggests using silken scarves rather than, say, uncooperative tennis balls that lead to frustration and anxiety. "Scarves," he points out, "are soft, non-threatening, and float down slowly."

"Scarves are soft, non-threatening ..."

WHAT? This is INSANE. If a kid is so fragile that his entire ego and self-esteem shatters because he drops a couple of tennis balls when juggling - then I suggest that there are deeper issues at work and maybe the little bugger needs some counseling.

I remember playing dodge-ball, and as far as I know I came out of the experience unscathed. I remember being "It" when we played tag. Did that make me feel anxious? Uhm ... sure it did. Being "It" is a big responsibility, and the whole point of being "It" is to WIN as soon as possible, so that you can stop being "It". Was I victimized by that experience without knowing it? Am I deeply scarred? Uhm. Let me think about that ... hmmm .... Short answer: No.

I took a juggling class in college. (You know. The ridiculous requirements one has to go through to get an Acting degree.) I dropped many tennis balls. Of course. You don't become a good juggler in one try. You have to ... uhm ... FAIL a bunch of times, so that you can LEARN, and then GET BETTER. But oh, boy, when I saw those tennis balls drop, when I fumbled them, when I lost track of them, when I lost control ... I thought I would have a nervous breakdown because of the stress. I felt so helpless and threatened, and I wished I had scarves to juggle instead so that I wouldn't have such a self-esteem-shattering experience. What??? Gimme a break. This is LUNACY.

Children are not delicate little flowers. They can handle being "It", they can handle losing at kickball, they can handle failing ... so that they can then become BETTER at whatever it is they are trying to achieve.

I was horrible at double-dutch jump rope. It terrified me. I never could tell when was the right time to just leap in, and I was so amazed at the girls on the playground who were really good at it. I would stand on the sidelines and watch them, leaping around, jumping out, jumping back in ... never tripping up ... and I thought: Man. I cannot do that. The second I jump in, my legs get tangled up in the ropes ...

Uhm, was my "self-esteem" destroyed by this? Short answer again: NO. You know why? Because I was really good at other things, I was "the best" at other things that other kids couldn't do. And so it evened out. I didn't need to be told I was the best at EVERYTHING, because it was obvious to me that I wasn't. But give me a creative writing essay? I was always one of the best in the class. Everyone knew it. Andrew knew it. You put me on a stage, and give me a role, and give me songs to sing and lines to say? I SHONE. I was one of the best. I always had the lead, I always was involved, and other kids couldn't do what I did. The double-dutch jump-rope champs couldn't do what I did up on stage. I watched double-jump-rope girls and wished I could do it. And I'm not saying I consciously stood there, thinking: "Okay, I really have to practice at jump rope to get that good" ... but I knew that that was the case. It is common sense. We are not all created equal. We all should have equal RIGHTS, and we all have dignity and beauty as members of the human race ... but that's a different issue. Not everybody is created with the same agility, flexibility, hand-eye coordination, singing voice, writing ability ... You know those kids in grade school who are just natural born athletes? Or, even earlier than that: the kids who, even when they are very little, just know how to throw the ball, they can run really fast ... Not everybody is born with exactly the same stuff to work with.

Kids know this instinctively. And for the most part, they are unbothered by it.

Why protect them from the savagery of dodge ball? What? That's insanity. Judging from that article, playground games are now geared to what you can do BY YOURSELF, because then you are spared the HORRORS of competition.

Huh? Kids LOVE to compete. Or ... not all kids love it ... but many kids do. I LOVED kickball. I loved trying my best. I loved to climb trees, I loved to try to go higher and higher. I loved baseball. I knew I wasn't the best in the outfield (right, Dad?) but I was a BADASS when it came to being at bat. I have great hand-eye coordination, or something. I ALWAYS got a hit when I was up there. But I wasn't the best at throwing. I couldn't throw very far. Now ... I didn't need to be shielded from that knowledge. Because ... I KNEW IT ALREADY. You look around a Little League baseball field, and you're 10 years old, and you know who can throw, who can run fast, who can hit it out of the park. It's obvious. It's right in front of you. Oh, and by the way - I was in Little League before they even had a girl's league. Which amazes me, in retrospect. I loved baseball and there was no Girls League. grrrr. Glad THAT nonsense has changed. But because there was nowhere for me to go (gender-wise) to play a sport that I absolutely loved - I joined the boys Little League. I was the only girl on my team. Even now, I look back on that, and think: GO SHEILA. Good for you!! No discrimination or exclusionary rules could stand in between baseball and me. No girls? Who the hell says so? I'm playin'!! And I was good, too. Except for that whole throwing thing. I always threw the ball to 2nd base. Always. Because ... not sure why. Maybe that was where I could most easily reach, with my weak throw? I think, too, my dad had said, "When in doubt ... throw to second base." I somehow interpreted that to mean: 'ALWAYS throw to second base." Basically, as a center fielder? I sucked.

I couldn't throw. So what then happened? My dad and I would play catch in the backyard before dinner. (Yes. I had that Field of Dreams thing going on with my father.) And I would practice throwing farther. My dad would back up. And I would try to make the ball reach him.

And so ... duh ... I got better. I didn't become "the best". No. But my throwing ability improved.

Kids are not delicate. Kids do not need to be protected from disappointment. This only creates fragile cranky little kids who then, years later in college, FREAK OUT on their professor when they get a well-deserved C. This coddling serves no one.

I remember the Lord-of-the-Flies nature of the playground, of recess. Sometimes recess could be really stressful. Dodge ball stressed me out. But ... I enjoyed the stress. Recess was fierce, fun, and competitive. It helped prepare me for other things in life. Not only that - but it was RELAXING. I got to let off steam. I wasn't protected from competition. I wasn't forced to juggle COLORED SCARVES, for God's sake, because tennis balls bouncing away from me would be just TOO UPSETTING.

I wasn't treated like a fragile easily-crushed person, who needed, above all else, to have her self-esteem raised at every conceivable moment. There's such ANXIETY in all of this. Let kids be kids, please. They'll be fine. They're stronger and more resilient than you think.

Deep Throat...

I guess I'm a romantic. I liked the speculation of who it MIGHT have been. Alexander Haig? Diane Sawyer? The implications ... I loved reading All the President's Men and making guessing games about who would have that kind of access. It was one of those mysteries that was "out there", and I thought it was cool that SOMEDAY we might know who it was, that Woodward would come clean ... but now? No offense to Mr. Felt ... but I feel a little let down.

I guess I'm not really a mature person. I like the NOT knowing better sometimes, because it's far more interesting.

I think it's RICH that Charles Colson is quoted in that article as saying "He had the trust of America's leaders and to think that he betrayed that trust is hard for me to fathom." Wow. Where on earth do YOU get the BALLS to feel betrayed?

And so. Check the Deep Throat mystery off the list.

Next mystery: Anyone know what is REALLY going on in Area 51???

More on Hitchens

A great analysis on Hitchens here in Prospect

It's a review of his new book Love, Poverty, and War : Journeys and Essays - but it ends up really being about the importance of Christopher Hitchens' voice in general. As a person who's been reading his stuff since the early 90s, I love it that the dude seems to be EVERYWHERE now.

In Love, Poverty and War, an essay on Trotsky comes between essays on Kipling and Huxley. That duality, the leftist immersed in mid-20th century Englishness, brings us closer to the centre of Hitchens's work. In Brideshead, where others see only snobbery and an elegiacal hymn to lost privilege, Hitchens sees mourning for the dead of the first world war. In every essay on Kipling, including the new one here, he tries to unravel the poet of empire and jingoism, "the beery sentimentality," from the dark sense of personal and national loss. In all these writers, Hitchens sees complexity, contradiction and "the idea of a double life." Orwell/Blair, of course, is a classic case of this English doubleness, but the richest account is found in his essay of the early 1990s on Larkin. When Tom Paulin, Terry Eagleton and others rushed to bury Larkin under accusations of racism, sexism and worse, Hitchens dug deeper and found, both in the life and the poetry, more complexity and interest.

Yeah, his political writing is blistering, and independent - and fun to read. I love his suspicion of alliances in general. I love how he will not submit to the generalizations of "we" or "us". I feel the same way.

This is from Letters to a young contrarian:

Distrust any speaker who talks confidently about "we", or speaks in the name of "us". Distrust yourself if you hear those tones creeping into your own style. The search for security and majority is not always the same as solidarity; it can be another name for consensus and tyranny and tribalism. Never forget that, even if there are "masses" to be invoked, or "the people" to be praised, they and it must by definitioni be composed of individuals. Stay on good terms with your inner Yossarian.

Is there better advice than "stay on good terms with your inner Yossarian"?? Damn, dude! I always wondered why blanket generalizations went so up my ass ... People who use the terms "we" or "us" in too facile a way have always struck me as intensely dishonest, and whether or not I agree with them - in the face of it, I feel I MUST assert my independence. This is why politics drives me crazy. This is why fundamentalists of any stripe drive me crazy. This is why blogging sometimes drive me crazy. Not that I don't have opinions. I most certainly do. But they are MINE, and I come to them on my own ... not because I feel I must include myself in some "we" or "us". It's an experiment: go to a blog where there's an orthodoxy of belief, a big ol "us against them" vibe, and try to make a comment that is somewhat independent. I'm not talking about disagreement. You can agree with someone - yet do it in an independent way. Or add your own thoughts to the mix, maybe say something that makes it clear that you resist (slightly) the orthodoxy. Do it in a polite tone - always be respectful - but then watch how you will be OVER-attacked. You may even be AGREEING with the core thoughts behind the post - but you will be OVER-attacked. It's like there's even an orthodoxy of TONE going on. People smell a different tone on you, and they will attack - regardless of what you say. You come at them with a fly-swatter, they come back with Uzis. I've experienced it on blogs I actually like - the attacks come with a ferocity unwarranted by my own comment, and the attacks immediately get personal. Count me out of that bullshit. This is how they treat people who are, essentially, on "their side"? Mmmm, no thanks. I'll leave the "masses" to themselves.

It's the problem I also have with most women's magazine writing.

"Women today feel that ..."
"We women are all so wrapped up in everyday concerns ..."
"We need to know that such-and-such is universal..."

STOP including me in that 'we" without my consent. I always thought my problem with all of this had to do with bad writing. Bad writers are general, and they make a lot of assumptions. A lazy writer is one who uses "we" all the time. (This is Writing 101, people. Make it personal. Speak from your own truth. Don't just parrot the party-line. Or fine - parrot the party-line, but don't think that's good writing.)

So that's part of it - but Hitchens nails my true issue with it in that one paragraph.

I've always really preferred his book reviews (that mostly appear in Atlantic). They're phenomenal. Scholarly, so well-written, unlike book reviews you read anywhere else. Because of the TONE, and what he brings to it.

He also wrote an incredible piece a while back for Vanity Fair on Route 66. Gorgeous. I like his more off-beat things - but still. I'd read his DOODLES on the damn MARGINS. Fascinating.

He's been around forever, but - is it me - or is he finally getting (to quote Eminem) "the props he deserves" right now? It seems so to me.

Very interesting

A fascinating essay by David Greenberg, about his experience guest-blogging for Dan Drezner. The essay illuminated for me why I have no interest in blogging about politics anymore. I like to share my opinion, but frankly, it's the COMMENTS I don't want to hear. heh heh I can't remember where I read it ... I think someone actually made this comment on my site once: that it's not those who disagree with you that are annoying, it's those that agree!! Anyway, it's a very interesting topic for me, because I started out as a political blog, mainly, and got a lot of readers that way. But I read what happens on other political blogs - and I do not want to be the host to a party like THAT. I'm not saying that what works for me should work for everyone. I watch other bloggers flourish in that hostile invective environment, they love the dogfight. I don't. But Greenberg expresses it all so WELL, I think. I especially liked his anxiety about how his posts weren't generating that many comments at first ... his realization that this blogging thing wasn't as easy as he had supposed.

Greenberg writes:

I did have sympathy for the audience. They expected their usual diet of conservative commentary. Instead, they got a liberal foreign policy expert (Suzanne) and a liberal historian linking to Arts & Letters Daily (aldaily.com) and the History News Network (hnn.us).

One Dreznerite vilified me for linking to a piece by the liberal journalist Joe Conason ("Why on earth would you think that gutter-dwelling hack would have any credibility on this blog?").

Wow. See, my problem is is that I kind of have a hard time taking blogging that seriously. To me, this statement: "any credibility on this blog" is a FUNNY thing to say. What? "any credibility on this blog" ... hahahaha I mean, come on, peeps, it's a BLOG. Also, I get so sick of the name-calling. It's just my sensibility, that's all. When all you do is cut and paste paragraphs from the mainstream media, and then say: "You piece of shit liberals" as your comment ... Well. That's just not interesting to me to read. Do you have something to SAY, or are you just flailing about, shouting "YOU DUMB JERK" at random people you don't agree with?

Greenberg says:

It's not that the readers were dim. Some forced me to refine or clarify my arguments. But the responses certainly got reductive, very quickly. And for all the individuality that blogs are supposed to offer, there was an amazing amount of groupthink - since some of them were getting their talking points from ... other blogs.

I'm sure we've all seen that occur, even on our favorite blogs. Anyway, it's a very interesting read, about a man's first encounter with blogging. Interesting how, by the end of the piece, he has realized that blogging is a skill, a craft ... (at least for some people) and that you actually have to have something to SAY in order to succeed in any way that can be quantified.

(via Volokh)

A must-read piece ...

... on Ward Churchill. It's long, but so worth it. Matt Labash hangs out with Churchill for two days, observes him, has conversations with his supporters (and the lone guy protesting), and ends up in a bar with Churchill, drinking, smoking, arguing. Read it. Ward Churchill is obviously an idiot - not even an intelligent human being. Note to Churchill: No, Easter is not the day they crucified Jesus. Mkay?

Matt Labash is such a funny writer. He somehow is able to describe the entire experience with a mounting sense of absurdity. The whole cow-puppet section made me laugh out loud, and I pretty much laughed until the end.

Favorite quotes from the article:

Daniel Burton-Rose, a guy with hoop earrings and an AK Press T-shirt, is sitting in a nearby chair, reading a book on Chinese medicine. He is himself the author of Confronting Capitalism, and when I carelessly identify him as an anarchist, he corrects me, saying he's an "anarcho-daoist." Clearly I've reached the rarefied strata where even people's shorthand IDs contain dialectical disputes.

And:

All this anarchism has made me thirsty

And this one:

But after reading his Indigenist platform, I'm yearning for the carefree kegger that was Das Kapital.

"the carefree kegger that was Das Kapital". hahahaha Genius.

But you have to go read the whole thing. It's a great piece.

(Thanks, Steve, for pointing to it.)

The "get over it" crowd

Mitch - a good blog-friend of mine (we will meet some day! Of that I am sure!) has a specTACular piece up right now about conservatives and art. I really can't add anything to it. All I can do is echo his sentiments, and say to him: "Job well done". He explains perfectly (and Mitch and I have discussed this before, in various posts on my blog) what I call the "get over it" mentality of many conservatives, which I share - on some level. HOWEVER: when that "get over it" mentality is applied to art, I lose interest. Completely. If you say "Get over it" to Hamlet, you've got no play. You say "Jesus, dude, get your act together, and stop whining" to Van Gogh, you've got no great paintings. I am more interested in the mess and bother of life, and the art I'm interested in (Dostoevsky is a perfect example) shows people in the middle of crisis - how do they handle grief, rage, sorrow, etc? There's a strain of conservatism that gets impatient with human weakness. Half the blog-posts I read out there (and many of the blog posts I write myself!) link to some human-interest story, and the bloggers comment is: "GET OVER IT." or "STOP WHINING" or "GROW UP". "Pull yourself up by your boot straps." "Don't complain. Just suck it up, and do better next time." Etc. There is a lack of patience with indecision, frailty, weakness. Again: I understand where they're coming from, theoretically, and I feel that way myself at times - but NOT when it comes to the role of art in society. No.

Regardless: I can't say any of this better than Mitch did. Mitch is a cool person, complex, interesting, with a ton of interests. His views towards art are very similar towards mine, and this essay he has written is awesome. Good job, man.

Huh?

This post from Glenn is very honest, but also kind of made me chuckle. What - he's just catching onto this now??

On a side note: It just seems so crazy that people would write Glenn angry emails about not agreeing with Hugh Hewitt. What is the matter with these people? Glenn is an individual, he is not obligated to agree with some constituency ... People seem truly hysterical and dismayed at disagreement. Like Donald Sensing writes in his eloquent post that Glenn links to - people cast others "into the outer darkness" for disagreement, or non-lockstep thinking.

But the very thought that this kind of behavior originated on "the left" is ludicrous to me. Huh? If you have never ever doubted the righteousness of your own opinion, if you have never ever waffled on an issue, or changed your mind about something - then you are lucky. But for those like myself? Woah, nelly. Get ready for the righteous shrill outrage. From BOTH sides.

So no, this kind of demonization for not getting into lockstep with the party-line doesn't only happen on 'the left' - and the "right" isn't "imitating" the "left". I could tell you my own personal experience with the "right", the condescending emails I get (I've made the observation before: The conservatives send me condescending emails, and the liberals send me outraged emails. I prefer the outrage, to be honest). I can only speak from my own personal experience - so take it or leave it. I am under no obligation to look at all sides of an issue, or to consider your point of view, or to try to be balanced. I also am under no obligation to be consistent. I might change my mind about things. I might try to work out how I feel about things, or think about things, in writing - on this blog. Some of you whose opinions are already set find this DEEPLY unsettling and do your best to sway me this way or that. And whatever, that's fine - as long as you're civil about it. But Glenn is also just a GUY, who has a spectacularly popular website, where he links to stuff that he finds interesting. That is Glenn Reynolds. He is not an elected official.

Michele Catalano is one of those bloggers out there who has been really open about her struggles in this regard. Check out the emails people have just sent her. I'm sorry, folks - anyone who would send an email like that has LOST THE PLOT.

Glenn writes:

"We've seen what the you're-the-enemy-if-you-don't-agree-with-me-on-everything approach has done for the left. It's disappointing to see people on the right imitating it."

This almost makes me want to laugh. I like Instapundit, I read the guy every day, but my response to this is: DUH. (I know, I'm so eloquent.)

DUH.

The "right" isn't imitating the "left". The "right" has been that way all along from my albeit limited perspective. Especially if you decide that you want to, horrors, make up your own mind about something.

This is why I hate politics, I hate fundamentalist visions of life, I hate black-and-white versions of reality, and have run into a lot of trouble, from the left AND right because of this.

Screw 'em. I might end up deleting this post. But I had to get this off my chest.

The election of 1800 ... and newspapers ... and media bias ...

This morning, I was reading Jefferson's Second Revolution - a book I started a while ago, lost interest in (not because of the topic ... but because of the writing ) - and have now picked up again.

It's about the election of 1800 - the "second Revolution", the "Jeffersonian" revolution, the "triumph of Republicanism" - the death of the Federalist party. It also is, in my opinion, one of the most incredible stories of the beginning of this nation - because it was, in the end, a peaceful transfer of power. It blows my mind ... when you look at, first of all historical precedent (peaceful transfer of power between two groups THAT HATE EACH OTHER??? When the hell does THAT ever happen?) and second of all how much the Federalists and Republicans demonized each other, each thought that the country would literally be destroyed by the other.

It was the birth of party politics in this country. And, like many births, it was painful, messy, long.

And yet when the Republicans won - the Federalists weren't lined up against the wall. The transfer happened peacefully. I mean, granted, the Federalists were destroyed, completely - they had been relics of the landed aristocracy anyway, and their time had come and gone ... it was time for them to go ... but still. The party was destroyed, but the people who had made up the party were not murdered and thrown in mass graves. They stayed involved in the system, they adjusted ... During the election of 1800 friendships fell apart, relationships shattered and never recovered ... but the NATION survived.

There's a new book out now - I've seen it - that also has the election of 1800 as its focus - and I think I need to pick up that book, since i'm not wild about this woman's writing. It almost sounds like a first draft. But whatever. I'm making my way through it, concentrating on the STORY.

It's awesome stuff. Stuff I know already, but still ... You think the election we just went through was nasty? The nastiest ever? If you think that, then I suggest you look into the election of 1800. It'll give a nice perspective, a little historical distance from our own present day. The rhetoric NOW is sooooo much more restrained than what was common-day vitriol back then. You can't even believe it. You think NOW we have a loud fringe on both sides? Go back and read about the election of 1800. History. Always good to realize that there is nothing really new under the sun, and that no generation invents the wheel. (Well. Except for the actual generation who actually DID invent the wheel, of course.)

I also thought it was really funny (in light of what's going on nowadays) to learn, again, how people expected newspapers to be biased back then. That was the whole DEAL with newspapers. An unbiased newspaper? A newspaper not connected to a political party? What? Why on earth would one read a newspaper like THAT? One paper presented one side, other papers presented the OTHER side.

The same thing is true today, obviously. You watch Fox for one "side", you listen to NPR for the other "side" - it's up to you. But you KNOW they're biased. I don't expect The New York Times to be unbiased. But I certainly don't ONLY read The New York Times. I surf around, checking multiple sources, for stories that interest me ... hoping I can piece together what I think that way. I guess what I'm saying is is that I try not to have fits of apoplexy if I run into bias. I try to get at the NEWS and if that takes a bit more work? If that means I read 3 newspapers? 4 or 5? Then okay. I'm fine with that.

When John Adams signed the Sedition Act (Oh, John ... John ... why ...) - Republican newspapers were shut down, editors jailed, etc. Jefferson, hanging out at Monticello, was instrumental in getting some of these papers started up again, so that he could have a place to put HIS views into the public realm. (Only, of course, he never signed his name. He let Madison be his front-man, while he pretended to only care about sweet peas, the constellations, and his grandkids. "Interested in politics? Me? Oh, never. I wouldn't have anything to do with the nasty business ... Let me count the flowers in my garden ... I need to harvest the hay tomorrow ..." Meanwhile, he was completely pulling the strings. Turns out, this guy was a ruthless party politician - he just didn't want to appear like he was in the fray.)

Regardless. I just thought it was so funny to remember again the long long history of bias in the media in this country ... and probably, if blogging had existed at the time of the election of 1800, a bunch of people on the sidelines would have had a FIELD DAY. Sure! I suppose the frenzied pamphleteers throughout the colonies (it seems, at times, like every private citizen in America was pumping out pamphlets on political issues) could be the equivalent of bloggers today.

But to hear actual newspaper editors, in the late 1700s, say stuff like, "A newspaper that is not biased towards one side is no good at all." hahahaha

Can you imagine?? An open acceptance of bias - from editors, writers, audience alike: if you read THIS paper, you'd get THIS side. If you wanted the other side, you'd read THIS paper (and pray to God that the editor hadn't been thrown in jail). It was a dirty fight, a battle of the newspapers, a war of words. And bias was ASSUMED.

Dear Matt Margolis:

Wow. What a stupid apology. Thanks for sharing it so I can fully revel in your idiocy.

My favorite excerpt?

"I informed Jordan Golson, who offered to handle the situation. I was clearly wrong in asking him to take any action on my behalf."

Your little henchman, huh? Set him out to attack the 13 year old?

I am sure that, in your vanity, you have no idea how RIDICULOUS you sound. Vanity usually doesn't realize how stupid it looks to outsiders.

I have to copy your words again, just to revel in the absurdity.

"I informed Jordan Golson, who offered to handle the situation."

Dude: I wish I could be more articulate, but I can't. Your hubris and vanity is such that all I can say is: that is so LAME!!

I wish you were on my blogroll so I could take you off in a big display of sound and fury.

Funny, though ... I never saw fit to put you guys on my blogroll in the first place. Hm. Interesting.

Matt, in contrast to - uhm - YOU, I would like you to read Austin's most recent post on the situation. He's got more grace, more maturity, than you'll ever have.

The message is:

Some bloggers out there just need to chill OUT.

I am sure a lot of you have heard, by now, the sad (and, to me, INFURIATING) tale of Austin - the 13 year old boy who had the TEMERITY to "steal" an Instalanche from Blogs for Bush. He took an animated image from that site, put it on his own, and Mr. Insta-Man linked to AUSTIN, not Blogs for Bush guys. So then, this poor kid was roundly reprimanded by some random blogger named Jordan. I know, I know, this Jordan person had the tsunami videos ... he's not some random blogger ... but none of that matters to me. He's a jackass.

Poor Austin. His mom made him take his blog down because of all of this.

Here's the full story.

Everyone and their mother is linking to it right now, but it illustrates one of my own pet peeves about some bloggers, and I say this realizing completely that I am a part of this community, I'm a blogger, blah blah blah.

But Jesus. Some people take themselves just a leeeeeetle bit too seriously, don't you think, mmmmm?

First of all: how can one steal an "Instalanche"? Steal? When ... basically we're all stealing from one another anyway? Linking to each other, pulling quotes from newspapers, pulling photos, photo-shopping them ... and ... Instalanche? I know it's real. I've had an Instalanche myself. Sure, it's nice. It's nice to have him link to you. But it's not REALLY real. If you say to your great-aunt, "Hey, I got an Instalanche today!" she will not know what the hell you are talking about. Neither will 98% of the population.

GET OVER YOURSELVES.

Who is this Jordan? Sorry. I don't give a crap, and I'm sure he's feeling really badly right now, but I think he has behaved appallingly, and I think people who take this blogging thing (and Instalanches, and all of it) sooooooo seriously need to take a Xanax. Take two. Get drunk. Get laid. Don't write to a 13 year old boy calling him a "little bastard". Jordan, you were "hot under the collar"? Uhm - yeah. I'll say.

Grow up.

I guess I shouldn't be shocked at how stupid and petty and awful people can be - but I guess I still am. It still takes me aback.

I'm with Michele on her assessment on the situation. Yup. That pretty much says it all.

Due to the number of...

... condescending lecturing emails I get from MORONS (who I wish didn't read me at all ... why do you read me if you find me so ... confusing, and stupid?? I don't get it.) - and I've gotten more of these lecturing sanctimonious emails in the last couple of days or so than I've ever had before - I think it's time to issue the reminder. Read it. And learn. Or go the hell away. Along with the reminder, I think I will point you to THIS fun post , in which I attempted to "please everybody at once".

God, I hate it when the patriarchy straps me to my treadmill

A fantastic post by Ann Althouse which pretty much describes my problems with current-day feminism.

Huh.

I wasn't aware that when I put on lipstick, it was because I am a slave to the beauty myth. Poor me. Now I'm enlightened.

I wasn't aware that when I curled my hair, I was actually a pathetic little female, who is only doing such things to attract men. (Sidenote: Er ... okay ... got one question though: WHAT THE F*** IS WRONG WITH WANTING TO ATTRACT MEN?)

I wasn't aware that wanting to lose weight and be fit meant that I was actually brainwashed about body image by the patriarchal structures.

Feminism of the kind skewered by Ann A. is - well, it's always struck me as rather silly, but obviously that kind of thinking has dominated any feminist discourse for ... oh ... 30 years ... despite its increasing irrelevance. Thank God for Camille Paglia. For years, she was the only one shrieking (yes, shrieking) about how idiotic (and destructive) these views actually were. The main thing I feel from such stuff is condescension. They STILL are trying to tell women who to be, how to behave, what to wanthow to think ... Jesus. Do they EVER listen to themselves??

And so tonight, in honor of the feminist losers, I am going to paint my nails, take a bubble bath, and afterwards I will shave my legs, and then I will break out all the girlie products I can find (the moisturizer, the sea salt body scrub, the facial mask, the eye cream) ... and as I do all this, stuff that I actually enjoy, I will wonder: Huh, am I doing all this stuff because I really enjoy it, or am I just fooling myself, and am I really doing it all out of pathetic ignorance, unaware that all of this stuff is actually IMPOSED on me from above by the PATRIARCHY.

Yawn.

Where's my lipstick.

Politics

I decided a while back that I really don't want to write about politics anymore here. It's too annoying, too all-encompassing, and I can't seem to do anything half way. Additionally, I do not WANT to live in a world where I am all-politics all-the-time. That's okay for some people. They can handle it. For them, it's an obsession, a hobby, a passion - like having a passion for football (or ... er ...Cary Grant). It's not for me. It never was. I get twisted up in a knot. I can't sleep. Etc.

I need to know what is going on in the world of politics, and be up-to-date on nearly everything ... but I can't spend my time writing about it. It's not fun for me. Not one bit. It's anxiety-provoking, and I also find it upsetting. I wish I didn't, but I do. My old blog on Blog-spot was much more political - I wrote about world events and national events every day. (I also didn't have comments on that old blog, which probably made a difference - it was like a little cloister - I felt like I was talking to myself.)

Anyway. Somewhere along the road I burned out on all of that.

I always need to know what everybody ELSE is saying, I need to know stuff as it happens, I still need to read all my political blogs, and all my Op-ed columnists, etc. etc. I am not deciding to be what Rebecca West would call an "idiot". ("Idiot" was her term for people - women mostly - who decided to turn their thoughts over completely to private concerns - even as the world was disintegrating around them). So no. I'm not choosing the idiot path. I couldn't bear that.

But I've needed to back off, and to start expressing myself in other ways - not just express stuff that pisses me off. (Because politics usually pisses me off!!) I wanted to also write about things I love, things that make me laugh, things that excite me, things that make me profoundly sad ... I wanted to use this space to start to do all of that. So I have.

Writing is a lot of fun for me. I could write all day long, without too much depletion of psychic energy. But when I write about politics, I need to lie down afterwards. Heh. It's not fun.

Maybe fun is over-rated, but for me, personally, I have UNDER-rated "fun", for most of my life.

I want to have fun here.

You all may be thinking: What the hell is she going on about? Then have fun, dammit!! Do whatever the hell you want to do!

I know, I know. This post isn't meant as an announcement, and it's not a response to anything that has actually gone on here. I'm really working this stuff out for myself, in my head, and I decided to let you in on it.

Recently I had to scan through that old Blog-spot blog, looking for an essay someone had asked for. And I was stunned at how different that old blog is, from this blog right now. I have no idea how I had the energy to write about politics all the time. Of course, that was 2002. I was pretty much jacked-up on adrenaline for a full year after September 11.

Anyway - all of that being said, I do have something to say about my gay American governor.

Living where I do, I am, of course, bombarded by McGreevey revelations on an almost minute-to-minute basis.

One of my thoughts is: This guy shouldn't be a hero to gay people for coming out. He came out because he HAD to, amidst a swirl of stinking corruption. This is not on the same level as Melissa Etheridge's decision to come out ... an act courageous, and admirable. She actually had something to lose, and while McGreevey also had a lot to lose, Etheridge was willing to risk it. She could no longer live a life where she was pretending. It wasn't right for her. McGreevey's "coming out" isn't like that. He's a creep.

And the rest of my thoughts are pretty much summed up by Jeff Jarvis here.

Bill has an excerpt on the special election question.

The whole thing about hindsight

David Ellis at Wunderkinder has a great post up about the 9/11 hearings.

It's pretty common-sensical, but common sense is lacking these days. His words are a breath of fresh air.

A tangential story - let's call it an analogy, a parable, which I think is appropriate:

A great friend of mine from college was dating a certain woman, 10 or so years ago. They dated for a couple of years. It was a bit tortured, to say the least. He's an actor, a bohemian - she was obsessed with money, material possessions, and getting married. [Er, honey? If those are your obsessions - then go hang out in a bar on Wall Street - don't date an actor] She wanted him to change. However - they dated for a couple of years. (Strange coda: He finally "caved" - and proposed to her on the top of the Empire State Building - and my GOD - she turned him down. This woman was a bitch, I'm sorry.)

Anyway. I didn't like how she treated him. She wanted to tame him, domesticate him, change him.

The two of them went on a trip to the Catskills. They rented a car and drove out of the city. They stopped at an inn and had what my friend described as a really romantic and wonderful dinner. He said he felt great, really close to her, etc.

But then came out to the car, only to find that he had left the headlights on by accident, and now the car's battery was dead.

Annoying? ABSOLUTELY.
Inconvenient? YOU BETCHA.

My friend's girlfriend, though, could not get past it. It ruined the rest of their weekend - even after the car was fixed, and they were in their B&B, or whatever. She KEPT bringing it up.

She actually said to him, 2 days later: "So ... what can we do ... next time ... so that this doesn't happen again?"

She tried to make his forgetting to turn the headlights off into some big meaningful thing about his personality.

As though she had never made a mistake, never forgot where she put her keys, never goofed up -

"So ... next time we travel ... should we write out a list ... beforehand ... so that you don't forget to turn the headlights off?"

I'm not kidding.

When I heard this story, I couldn't contain myself: Break UP with this bitch!

He eventually did.

The POINT of this tangent is that of COURSE - if he could have known the future moments of inconvenience - calling Triple A in the middle of the Catskills, the romantic mood ruined, etc - of COURSE if he could have seen into the damn future he would have turned the damn headlights off. Of COURSE he would have. But ... what is the point of going over it all, again and again and again? How could he know the future? When he got out of the car with her to go into dinner, he was happy, laughing, unaware that he had forgotten to turn off the headlights ...

How could you go back in time and try to right that mistake? Whisper in his ear? "Listen, bub, turn off the damn lights - that bitch of a girlfriend of yours is going to ruin the weekend about it..."

One last comment: I do believe that whatever errors in our security system have to be handled, located, addressed, etc. But this is ridiculous. The hearings make it sound like everybody was on HIGH ALERT during the Clinton administration, and then when Bush came into office, we all kicked off our shoes and relaxed. This is just plain not the truth. NEITHER administration was all: Let's tackle terrorism!!

I don't feel like writing about this anymore. It's too annoying. Just had to say that one brief thing.

Leave it to Michele

Something has been eating away at me - and I remembered a post from last month, written by Michele, who (as she so often does) puts into words what is bugging me:

I've managed to keep a lot of friends who are so liberal they make Indymedia look like NewsMax. I manage to still be friends with people who are anti-war, who poke fun at my politics or march against the things I stand for - and vote against them, too. I've accepted that basic fact that everyone is different. If I stopped talking to people who have values opposite mine, I would be a very lonely person.

Me too.

A little perspective

For those of you who anticipate with dread that this is going to be one of the ugliest election campaigns in recent history, (and I count myself as one of these people - I feel sick at the thought of how far away November is and I am considering moving to Monaco or Ibitha or something where I never have to hear about any of this nonsense again - actually, to be totally safe, I should move to somewhere like Myanmar, or Chad) - go and read some tales about Thomas Jefferson's election campaign. The bloodless "Jeffersonian revolution".

I read it last night, as I sat in a stalled train outside New Haven, an electrical wire thrashing up the tracks towards me, and thought: Woah. Woah. This is as ugly as it gets.

Our recent IKKY politicians did not invent vitriol and nasty tactics. We have not invented dirty pool. We don't play any dirtier than they played back then.

THAT election campaign was nasty.

However, it's only March. And things are already pretty nasty.

God, I cannot bear the thought of having to go through this campaign. It's insufferable.

Encroachment upon The Beauty Myth

More on the Naomi Wolf 20-years-too-late sexual misconduct (or "encroachment") allegation.

In the article, Wolf describes Harold Bloom's encroachment - and - who knows, I was not there ... but the wording of the story smacks of elaboration to me. Like prosecutors interviewing witnesses report - as the witness tells the story over and over, more and more details come out. The story takes shape. Make of that what you will.

Wolf says:

"I set [the manuscript] between us. He did not open it. He did not look at it. He leaned toward me and put his face inches from mine. 'You have the aura of election upon you,' he breathed...The next thing I knew, his heavy, boneless hand was hot on my thigh. I lurched away. 'This is not what I meant,' I stammered. The whole thing had suddenly taken on the quality of a bad horror film. The floor spun. By now my back was against the sink, which was as far away as I could get. He came at me. I turned away from him toward the sink and found myself vomiting, in shock. Bloom disappeared. When he re-emerged -- from the bedroom with his coat -- a moment later, I was still frozen against the sink. He said: 'You are a deeply troubled girl.'"

Uh ... I would have to agree with Bloom's end assessment there.

However, it is not hard, either, to imagine Bloom whispering, "You have the aura of election around you". Sounds just like his blow-hard self.

This is just a sense I have but ... details like "heavy boneless hand" ring wrong, for me. It rings as ... a writer's voice. She is going into description, invention. I have no proof of this, obviously. It just doesn't "sound right". I am not saying she made it up, or made up that something occurred - but I think she is elaborating, and embellishing. Embellishing details, to sway people to her side.

If it was just a hand on the thigh and an inappropriate comment that sent her into an abyss and made her "soul" stop being "fine" ... then, sorry Naomi, but ... you're a bit too fragile to get by in this world.

Update:
Thanks so much to Noggie, (a faithful reader who always sends me the coolest links), for this additional article in the Globe and Mail: A prof, a pass and a co-ed.

Great piece. If the Wolf/Bloom thing interests you at all, I suggest you give it a read.

Margaret Wente writes about campus sex in the 1970s as opposed to the 1980s. Wente knows of what she speaks, she was an English major in the 70s.

I majored in English during the early dawn of feminism. It was a glorious time on campus. The professors had traded in their ties for love beads. The most popular ones offered courses where you could grade yourself, and fraternized shamelessly with their students. We smoked dope with them. Sometimes we slept with them, or hoped to. Two of my best friends wound up marrying their professors. I spent my last semester futilely trying to seduce my thesis supervisor. In fact, my failure to have a single erotic encounter with a faculty member was a source of great disappointment to me.

By 1983, times had changed. Talk of gender inequity, sexual harassment, and power imbalances filled the air on campus, and sexual relations had become distinctly problematic. That's when Harold Bloom made the mistake of putting his hand on Naomi Wolf's 20-year-old thigh at Yale.

I am not saying that there are not improprieties, or even sexual assault. Of course not. But I have always believed that you just have to stand up for yourself, take care of yourself, and not victimize YOURSELF every time something unpleasant happens.

Wolf talks about an unwelcome pass from her mentor. Okay. Fine. Yes, if it happened, it probably was unpleasant. But - why should something like that shatter your soul? Making such an overblown deal out of an "unpleasant" experience diminishes the REAL trauma suffered by actual victims of violent rape. I suppose that she was more upset because she had put Harold Bloom up on a pedestal, he was probably, because of his intellect, supposed to be "different" from other men ... and so her fantasies were crushed when it turns out he just wanted to get laid like every other man.

But Naomi - why should Harold be blamed because you put him up on a pedestal?

It seems like a rather small incident to me - a guy putting his hand on your thigh, even if he is a mentor.

I've had guys come on to me, and I haven't wanted them to. I mean, God, of course. And so I've had to be my own Red Army, patrolling my own borders. I was a late-bloomer, not ready for much in terms of sex until pretty late (at least compared to many of my friends). And so I had to negotiate the wilds of college sex on my own, and keep myself out of harm's way.

There were some uncomfortable moments. Guys, for the most part, backed off when I told them to.

I've had unpleasant experiences. I consider that to be part and parcel of being a free and liberated woman, (or, forget that: a free and liberated PERSON), free to make my own choices, my own mistakes, my own misjudgments of someone's character. Everyone is not there to take care of ME.

An unpleasant sexual experience is not rape.

This simple statement alone is enough for me to get thrown out of the local NOW office. But it's a matter-of-fact take-responsibility-for-yourself attitude that I find completely sensible.

Naomi Wolf wants revenge.

Read the Globe and Mail piece.

Mercifully, Ms. Wolf's version of victim feminism is out of date. Most people would agree that her 20-year-old effort to get even (and her extravagant claims for the trauma she suffered at the time) are a bit bizarre. But they are no more bizarre than campus sexual-harassment policies, where victim feminism still reigns supreme. These policies treat every case of boorish, drunk behaviour as sexual predation, and they define sex between faculty and students as essentially illicit. Consensual sex across the lines is deemed to be impossible because of built-in power imbalances.

It's ironic that not so long ago, female students were objecting that the university administration had no business being sex police. My girlfriends would have been insulted by the notion that they couldn't make such decisions for themselves. And they were well aware of the special power they possessed.

Again, Camille Paglia has the last word:

"It really grates on me that Naomi Wolf for her entire life has been batting her eyes and bobbing her boobs in the face of men and made a profession out of courting male attention by flirting and offering her sexual allure."

Update # 2
Thanks to one of the comments below, I just read Anne Applebaum's great piece in the Washington Post today on the Naomi Wolf accusation called "I am Victim".

She presents in a coherent, clear-headed way, the ludicrous-ness of Naomi Wolf's stance. Applebaum starts out by saying:

Sometimes in the course of a great American debate there comes a moment when the big battle guns fall silent, the pundits run out of breath, and -- unexpectedly -- the long, bitter argument suddenly turns into farce.

The serious-ness of such issues as not taking women seriously when they claim they have been raped, the true problem of blaming the victim, the problem of how to handle in an adult way such allegations - blah blah blah - has now turned into a big attention-getting farce.

But Applebaum gets to the crux of the matter, the crux of my issue with Naomi Wolf and her way-after-the-fact allegation that she has been permanently damaged by SOMEONE PUTTING HIS HAND ON HER THIGH:

Indeed, Wolf not only never mentions any of this, she seems to want us to believe that none of it matters -- and that deep down inside she is still a quivering 19-year-old whose single experience with a man she describes as a "vortex of power and intellectual charisma," had "devastated my sense of being valuable to Yale as a student, rather than as a pawn of powerful men." She was not exactly emotionally traumatized, she writes (and seems sorry that this avenue of legal argument isn't open to her) but her "educational experience was corrupted." And, somehow, that allows her to equate her experience with that of children harassed by Catholic priests or female cadets raped by fellow soldiers. She, and they, are all victims of "systemic corruption."

Oh, gimme a break.

Wolf also re-writes the past in her description of what happened. She was supposedly in a "tailspin", she could not recover, she was an academic mess ...

Er ... Rhodes scholarship?

Er ... writing your first major best-seller (and not just a best-seller but a hit-the-freakin'-jackpost bestseller) WHILE you are a Rhodes scholar?

Sorry, babe. It doesn't wash.

Applebaum, in the end, bemoans what women like Wolf do to the REAL issue of sexual harassment, the REAL issue of women's equality. By not wanting to take responsibility for themselves, by turning themselves willingly into a "victim", by exaggerating an event to make their victimhood seem even more severe - they strip other very real and pressing issues of their power.

But in the end, what is most extraordinary about Wolf is the way in which she has voluntarily stripped herself of her achievements and her status, and reduced herself to a victim, nothing more. The implication here is that women are psychologically weak: One hand on the thigh, and they never get over it. The implication is also that women are naive, and powerless as well: Even Yale undergraduates are not savvy enough to avoid late-night encounters with male professors whose romantic intentions don't interest them.

If I fell apart psychically every time some guy put his hand on my thigh, I'd be locked up in a mental institution.

Toughen up, girls. Get a thick skin. Grow up.

To those of you with a knee-jerk response to all of this, I will remind you:

I am not talking about real issues of rape and violent attack. These issues are no joke.

I'm talking about turning an unwelcome pass into a symbol of sexual degradation and psychological humiliation ... something so deep and so horrifying that you can never ever recover.

Gimme a break.

Update # 3:

From the desk of Jane Galt, a post entitled "I am woman, hear me whine."

She asks:

What would we think of a man who said that, after a female professor (or a male one, for that matter) put a hand on his knee, he was so unutterably wounded that his grades declined? That he's been carrying the "wound" around with him for twenty years? We'd think he was a hysterical fool, that's what. Naomi Wolf does the cause of equality no favours by implying that for women, such hysteria is only natural.

I love it when Camille goes on a rampage

Check this out.

Naomi Wolf, author of The Beauty Myth, adviser to Al Gore (as in Ms. "Wear Earth Tones" Wolf), has, 20 years after the fact, accused Harold Bloom, her adviser at Yale, of sexual harassment.

This is patently ridiculous on 5,678,923 levels.

It's stupid, it's hypocritical, it's wrong. 20 years? Ms. Feminist Stand-up-for-myself? Some guy put his hand down your pants, and you can't seem to ever ever ever get over it? You are haunted years later??

Harold Bloom was responsible for your Rhodes scholarship, having written you a glowing recommendation ...

This is why I also scorned the feminist establishment's lifting up Anita Hill into some kind of idol. If the woman were sexually harassed, she did not speak up, she did not come forward - and she benefitted fully from Clarence Thomas' attentions - moving up the ranks. And NOW? Now she comes forward?

Sorry. There are PLENTY of women who REALLY fight sexual harassment, who lose their damn jobs because of it ... who put their reputations, their futures on the line, in order to stand up for what is right. THOSE are the women we should admire. Not Anita Hill, for God's sake.

Naomi Wolf has always bugged me and I am always happy when someone comes forward and calls her on her shit. I could not have been happier when she was lambasted for her "be an Alpha Male, wear earth tones" advice to the floundering Vice-President.

THIS is what feminism has amounted to?

I have one thing to say: Ick.

Camille Paglia, who never loses an opportunity to bash Naomi Wolf, has come forward and raged about this latest incident (Wolf has demanded that Yale University apologize to her). God, that is just so STUPID. 20 freakin' years later?? Grow the fuck up.

Camille Paglia, who traded blows with Ms. Wolf in the early 1990’s over their radically different views on female sexual power, said she was no longer at war with Ms. Wolf, but was "shocked" to learn of Ms. Wolf’s accusations against Mr. Bloom, who is a long-time mentor of Ms. Paglia’s.

"I just feel it’s indecent that if Naomi Wolf did not have the courage to pursue the matter at the time, or in the 1990’s, and put her own reputation on the line, then to bring all of this down on a man who is in his 70’s and has health problems—who has become a culture hero to readers in the humanities around the world—to drag him into a ‘he said/she said’ scenario so late in the game, to me demonstrates a lack of proportion and a basic sense of fair play," said Ms. Paglia, who is professor of humanities and media studies at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia, where she said she helped institute that university’s sexual-harassment policies in the 1980s.

"At the beginning of the 90’s, people said, ‘Oh, Naomi Wolf, this great thinker,’" said Ms. Paglia. "But what she’s managed to do in 10 years is marginalize herself as a chronicler of teenage angst. She doesn’t want to leave that magic island when she was the ripening teenager. How many times do we have to relive Naomi Wolf’s growing up? How many books, how many articles, Naomi, are you going to impose on us so we have to be dragged back to your teenage-heartbreak years? This is regressive! It’s childish! Move on! Move on! Get on to menopause next!"

Er ... but how do you really feel, Camille?

You go, Camille. You go.

Michael Totten

Excellent post by Michael Totten, entitled History and Total War. I would suggest you do not miss it.

This goes along with Thomas Friedman's most recent column, which we discussed here yesterday. We face a terrifying foe, and we underestimate it at our peril.

The fanatic Muslims have been at war with us for years. They always knew their enemy, and they fought against us, doing damage and killing us in drips and drabs for years. And we only just now are noticing it. It took September 11 for us to realize it. Not to be an asshole, but I had realized it years before - (uhm - CAN YOU SAY BOMBING OF WORLD TRADE CENTER IN 1993?? Jesus CHRIST). The people I read and respected also realized it years ago. But nobody was really listening. Bill Clinton didn't even visit the World Trade Center in 1993 after it was bombed. Can you believe that?

I couldn't. Doesn't he get it? That was an act of war. On our soil.

Unfortunately, I am not the Secretary of War or Defense or Secretary of State, or SOMEONE in a position of authority, otherwise I might have pointed out the realities of the situation to the powers-that-be.

Aragorn says (sorry for the ROTK reference) to Theoden who falters in the face of violence, "War is upon you."

This is the situation we have found ourselves in now. We have acted with enormous restraint, we have not nuked Mecca, we have gone out of our way to not target the civilians. We drop food down onto Afghanistan, as we prepare for war with those hiding out in the country. We have held ourselves back. Saddam is alive. Saddam gets his teeth checked. He was not torn apart limb from limb.

But still and all: war is upon us, and we have finally woken up and realized this.

Nobody wants war. Or anyone who does want war is a lunatic. But this is the dilemma we face, now, this is the new challenge of the world.

Totten writes:

We’re still arguing about Iraq after the fact. And sometimes this discussion seems so petty. Compared to other people and ourselves in other times, we are spoiled. The Holocaust informs my view, but what we have suffered is nothing - nothing - nearly as bad as that.

Even if you opposed intervening in Iraq, surely you realize that some moral good has come out of it; a tyrant is gone. And we didn't need to nuke Baghdad to get him out.

The perceived immorality of our action may weigh heavily on your soul. But it’s nothing compared to what we might have to face if our goal of limited war for democracy fails.

Go over there and read it.

Words to live by

Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Apparently, I am just plain stupid

So Joe Katzman over at Winds of Change kindly linked to my rant on what I see as the conservative "obsession with moral compasses". Katzman called it "kick-ass." Thank you, Joe.

One of the comments to his post is very indicative of exactly my criticism with toe-the-line conservatives.

Some comments are well thought out, some are reasoned. One commenter, showing his wit and erudition, came to this conclusion: "Sheila is just plain stupid."

Okay, folks, here we go: Any time I post anything that criticizes elements of conservatism, people freak out. They cannot bear it. They cannot bear it. It somehow affects them personally.

I will not toe a party line if I don't think it's right.

Conservatives have got to grow up. Is your belief system so fragile that one person criticizing something causes you to fall into a tailspin? Causes you to resort to name-calling as your best defense? It's so transparent.

Get a grip. Why do you need absolute agreement?

The Obsession with the Lack of Moral Compasses

Andrew Sullivan wrote a great piece on moral scolds some years back and articulates exactly my problem with the "Nobody has any moral compass these days" brand of conservatives. (Oh, Jesus, here we go again.)

To all of you out there who are already beginning to write me emails at this very moment, let me just say: I realize not all conservatives are moral scolds. I accept that. But I think it important to talk about the other "brand", the puritan brand. And so that's what I'm gonna do. Or - let me start with Andrew Sullivan's words:

This moral obsessiveness was the creation of Kenneth Starr and something far larger than Kenneth Starr. It was the creation of a conservatism become puritanism, a conservatism that has long lost sight of the principles of privacy and restraint, modesty and constitutionalism, which used to be its hallmarks.

The scolding, moralizing conservatism I'm talking about here is one with a lineage; it is the construction of a cadre of influential intellectuals who bear as much responsibility as anybody for the constitutional and cultural damage this moment may have already wrought. And they will bear an even greater responsibility if the ultimate victim of this spectacle is the reputation and future of conservatism itself.

I read William Bennett's book The Death of Outrage (sorry Dad) when it first came out. I bought it because I was so embarrassed by Clinton at that time, I was so embarrassed by the squirming human I perceived beneath the Presidency, and it was horrifying ...

If the man bit his lip in "regret" one more time, I thought my head might spontaneously combust.

So I thought Bennett's book might provide some "you are not alone" solace. Instead, I was treated to a diatribe about how our society has no more values anymore, how everything is going to hell, how nobody cares about the right things anymore. Bill, when you say "the death of outrage", you just mean that you don't feel that people are outraged by the things that outrage you anymore. And this BAFFLES you. But let me tell you: PLENTY of people still are outraged about stuff ... but you disagree with what outrages them, and so they all must be idiots, and you are a wise sage on the mountaintop.

Clinton wagged his finger at us because he was just trying to save his ass (I still cringe at the image)...but Bill Bennett wags his finger to admonish us. He wants to REFORM me. Reform all of us. It's obnoxious.

I'm just one woman, but I know that the people I know, my friends, my family, all care about living a good life. A life of integrity. They want their kids to grow up to be productive, happy. Some of us even go to church regularly! So ... who the hell is Bennett talking about with such a blanket generalization?

I've never been a prissy girl. Or a prude. I have a free and independent lifestyle, I'm single, I have friends from all different walks of life. I'm an artist. I see no difference between gay and straight. Or: I can see the difference, obviously, but it doesn't mean anything to me. You're gay, I'm straight, let's go have some Guinness and talk about politics, movies, and Thomas Mann, shall we?

It's the "content of the character" that matters to me. (Hm. Sounds familiar)

So Bill Bennett is way too sanctimonious for me, he thinks he's right about stuff, he makes way too many assumptions about the right way, the moral way, the right values to have, blah blah.

I do believe that there is such a thing as morality, I do believe in a morality that is not subjective and not relative. There is such a thing as Good, and there is such a thing as Bad.

But yearning after the legendary good old days when children respected their parents and families ate dinner together and people went to church and had the "right" values seems foolhardy, ahistorical, and downright simple-minded. People in the 1940s had tormented family lives. You just never heard about it! Parents beat their kids. Girls got pregnant in high school. But nobody talked about it. There was a muzzle over the mess of life. Staring at the past thru rosy "those were the days" goggles seems like a waste of time.

Read Catcher in the Rye. Hell, let's go further back. Read Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Read Wuthering Heights. Read Anna Karenina. Read Oliver Twist. Read The Bible, for God's sake! People behave HEINOUSLY in the Bible, on occasion. There is no utopian past. It does not exist.

A quote comes to mind, can't remember where it came from: "She had a nostalgia for a life she had never led."

The "What has happened to the youth of today" crowd are unwilling to admit that they just don't GET why everybody listens to Eminem and Britney Spears, that they themselves are no longer cool, that they will never be cool again, and because they don't GET it, then they must criticize it, because they do not understand it.

There's no big mystery why "kids today" love Eminem and Britney Spears. Because they f***ing rock, okay? Kids like loud music that makes them want to dance. DUH. That's why they love stars who do that.

There are a couple of Britney Spears songs which, if you have any musical sense at all, will FORCE you to tap your feet, and if you're feeling really free, perhaps dance around the living room. I'm not admitting to doing this myself, EVER, I'm just saying that it's true. Theoretically.

We, as adults, can be all cynical and above it all, but to a 15 or 16 year old girl, Britney Spears seems very cool.

And Eminem: fuggedaboutit!!

If you hear his "Till I Collapse", and you still can't get why teenagers listen to him, and lose their minds, and cry when they go to his concerts, then you have never ever been young. Or, if you have been young, then you have completely forgotten what it is like to be a lonely teenager, with an aching heart, trying to find your way in the world. Because THAT is who Eminem is talking to.

So I get very impatient with people who scold me. Who take it upon themselves to scold the entire world. Whose reason for living is to scream at other people, "This world is going to hell in a handbasket!"

Dude, if you'd just stop screaming about that handbasket, then maybe your schedule would clear up a little bit, so that you could actually have some FUN. Why do you care so much about how other people live their lives?

I basically care if people murder people, if people run a crackhouse on my block, I care if people break the law, I care if children are abandoned or abused. But I do not care what music they listen to. I do not care who they have sex with. I do not care if they are married or unmarried. I do not think that it's my business to teach the rest of the world the proper way to live. Plenty of people probably disapprove of MY lifestyle, but I can't obsess about them, worry about them. They don't know me.

So who knows what is to become of Bennett, now that it appears he's just another moral-scold who is also a raging hypocrite. There's something fascinating, on a psychological level, about it all. I guess I would like to know what was going on in his head, all this time. Out of pure curiosity.

Also - as a coda:

Little red flags go up in my mind when I hear people say stuff about "these days", or "what'sa mattah with kids today" or "whatever happened to concepts like honor or family"?

Enforced nostalgia. Willful romanticization of the past.

No thanks. I'm not interested.

An essay I wish I had written

... on the whole South Park Republican phenomenon - and the problem that many people have with "conservatism" - as it sometimes manifests itself. Bravo.

It's called "Republican Not Conservative". (via Instapundit) The word "conservative" comes with all kinds of baggage, and you know what? A lot of it is justified. Not ALL of it, but a lot of it.

The problems described in the article are exactly my problems with "conservatism" and some conservatives. The anti-art conservatives. The "let's halt change" conservatives. The conservatives who ... claim to hate big government ... and yet LOVE big government when it is serving their needs ... the government in your bedroom, the government censoring music lyrics, the government everywhere.

I hate that. I am not for it.

I do not think there is a past which is so glorious that we should "go back to it". The very concept of "going back" is so ... anti-reality ... that I cannot get behind it, and I cannot countenance it.

If you're a human being, if you are connected to yourself as a part of the human race, then you know, in your heart, that you can never "go back". There is no "back there". You cannot halt change. And wanting to halt change - on a political level, or on a human level - is a sign of dysfunction. Sorry, but it is. It's like an 80 year old woman, wearing deep purple lipstick, dressing in skintight clothes, trying to pick up 24 year old boys. I mean, God bless her for trying! But she has not halted the clock - she cannot halt the clock no matter what she does - she is still 80 years old. You cannot go back in time.

I have a friend who constantly romanticizes what it was to be a child, or a teenager ... "Wouldn't it be great to go back to such a simpler time?"

To my view, she is ignoring huge chunks of reality in order to say that. I say to her, "I don't know ... In retrospect I may be able to laugh at what I thought was tragic when I was 7 years old, or 14 years old ... but at the time, while I was in it, I remember feeling all KINDS of emotions, not just happy ones. I remember feeling insecure, unhappy, scared, intimidated ... I don't want to 'go back' to that time ... because it wasn't all good."

Here's a quote from the article I link to above:

Conservatives once defined themselves as “standing athwart history yelling ‘Stop!’” This antiquated thinking doesn’t suit (if it ever did) young generations who see the future as promising more freedom, more prosperity, and more potential. We don’t want to freeze progress; we want to unbridle it. From time to time, conservatives have proffered new explications of “conservatism” – social conservatism, political conservatism, fiscal conservatism, et cetera -- but we all know what a conservative is.

Damn straight we do. And that's why I want nothing to do with the kind of mentality which thinks change is bad, and which fears progress.

That's why people like me, people not so easily classified, people who think artists should have the freedom to express themselves however the hell they want to, and then let the PUBLIC decide whether or not they like it, people who love art, and culture, and who live on the fringes of normal society, want absolutely NOTHING to do with the social conservatives who try to push this conservative agenda.

My friends are writers, dancers, theatre directors, performance artists, drag queens, poets ... I have friends who are teachers, computer consultants, photographers, stay-at-home moms, entrepreneurs, corporate lawyers, publicists ... It runs the gamut.

I want nothing to do with the anti-gay hysteria of National Review. I want nothing to do with the conservatives who want to shut up Eminem, or who want to shut down the Reagan movie on CBS.

You got a problem with the depiction of Reagan in that film? Then MAKE YOUR OWN DAMN MOVIE, where he is revered, lionized. Fight back with your own free speech.

But here's another thing - another thing I find distasteful and boring about the sort of conservatives we're discussing here:

Don't confuse propaganda (in the service of a cause you happen to agree with) with good art.

I may not "agree" with how the people behave in Requiem for a Dream - but who gives a crap? The acting is unbelievable. The film is arrestingly good. I do not look to art to mirror my political beliefs, or my "moral" beliefs.

Mark Rydell, film director of "On Golden Pond", came to my school and gave a seminar, and he talked about what it was like when he directed John Wayne, a man whose political beliefs were completely opposite from his own. "I thought of him as right-wing, completely against everything that I am for." Rydell described the surprise of Wayne's gentle and gentlemanly personality. And then he said something which I thought was so awesome. Rydell said, looking right out at us, "You know ... a lot of people who agree with me on certain issues ... are total jerks."

"Agreement" is not what I look for, when I respond to art. I don't look to art to ... reflect the world as I wish it was. I don't look to art to do anything political at all. I look for it to entertain me, to move me, to transport me, whatever.

Art should be unleashed. The public, inevitably, will decide "yes" or "no".

The people trying to push the conservative agenda - the ones who are NOT the "South Park Republicans" are against a lot of the things I hold dear.

Books like Catcher in the Rye or A Wrinkle in Time. Eminem. Gay equality. A clean environment. Art for art's sake.

Am I really on the same "side" as people who want to keep books like Catcher in the Rye off the shelves? No. I am not.

I'm not a party-line kind of girl, anyway. I suppose I should say I am a "party girl" - not a "party-line" girl. My beliefs are not monolithic. I do not buy agendas hook, line, and sinker.

PJ O'Rourke is quoted in the article I link to - I love it - he expresses this perfectly:

So, what I’d really like is a new label. And I’m sure there are a lot of people who feel the same way. We are the Republican Party Reptiles. We look like Republicans, and think like conservatives, but we drive a lot faster and keep vibrators and baby oil and a video camera behind the stack of sweaters on the bedroom closet shelf. I think our agenda is clear. We are opposed to: government spending, Kennedy kids, seat-belt laws, being a pussy about nuclear power, busing our children anywhere other than Yale, trailer courts near our vacation homes, Gary Hart, all tiny Third World countries that don’t have banking secrecy laws, aerobics, the U.N. taxation without tax loopholes, and jewelry on men. We are in favor of: guns, drugs, fast cars, free love (if our wives don’t find out), a sound dollar, cleaner environment (poor people should cut it out with the graffiti), a strong military with spiffy uniforms, Natassia Kinski, Star Wars (and anything else that scares the Russkies)…

The fact that he includes Nastassia Kinski as something he's "for"... I think that's hysterical.

So yes, obviously, I agree with the warning to "conservatives" in this article. You're gonna lose people. You cannot hold onto the past with fists. It is not possible. Look to history and you will see a million examples.

The more conservatives favor expanding government to “protect” marriage, outlaw abortion, ban assisted suicide, harass pot smokers, et cetera, the quicker they will drive their new friends away. Glenn Reynolds has called these conservative expansions of government evidence of “fair-weather federalism.” Whether or not the young reptiles care to dally on the constitutionality of these actions is a question still open. What has been decided is that decades of politician-suggested conservatism from both sides of the aisle – the PMRC; the Clipper Chip; smoking bans; congressional hearings on video game violence, rap music and college drinking – have definitely rubbed young people the wrong way.

Yup. That's all I have to say. Yup. I am "for" all of the things PJ O'Rourke is "for" - even Nastassia Kinski - but I can't, in all good conscience, call myself a "conservative" - although I am so anti-political-correctness that my anti-stance borders on fanaticism.

But I'm a freer spirit than what I come across in much of the rhetoric in conservative rags. They say too much which sends off flags of alarm and offense in my brain. So no. Conservative is not the right word for me.

I like "South Park Republican" instead. Let's let all hell break loose, let's let the change and progress come.

Derbyshire: Go to Hell

Is Derbyshire SERIOUS? Is question #2 really serious? Is EITHER question serious? Is he equating prison-rape with gay marriage?

I read shit like that from Derbyshire and it makes me think: What the fuck am I doing reading "National Review" anyway? Who have I become? How in the world can I possibly read a magazine with so many views that I find so contemptible, so hateful?

Yeah - some great foreign policy articles, yeah, I am addicted to Victor Davis Hanson ... but WHAT EVER.

Here is a two-line query by John Derbyshire about gay marriage, and I feel, in all conscience, that I can never ever open up www.nationalreview.com again, because it is too much of a betrayal of who I REALLY am.

If conservatives have a problem with that - they can bite me. I will never fit in completely with the NRO crowd and I'm glad of that.

Pardon the swearing. I just hate that bigot. I should never read anything that has his byline. Ever.

I need a shower.

(via Scott at Wunderkinder)

(Oh: heads up. This is not the first piece of Derbyshire's I have ever read ... I didn't just stumble over it ... I am aware of his views on this matter, and have read his columns before - but those two little questions struck me as unusually hostile and ignorant. More than anything else, I am struck by his ignorance.)

QUOTE

"In war anything is better than indecision. We must decide. If I am wrong, we shall soon find it out and can do the other thing. But not to decide ... may ruin everything."

--Ulysses S. Grant

Kipling's Cat

This post is a companion piece to the one below.

The dream-palace idea got me to thinking. About labels in general.

No label is (or should be) a monolith. Humanity is too diverse. If you feel you must accept every single precept set down by any ideology, then you clearly are involved in a cult, and need to de-program your brain.

One of the most important aspects of being human is our ability to use critical thinking. Too many ideologies (conservatism, liberalism, feminism, communism, whatever) demand that we give up this crucial aspect ... demand that we be obedient, that we stop using that critical-thinking side of our brain, and just submit. Accept the ideology unthinkingly.

"Here is what we believe."
"But ... well, this seems to make more sense to me..."
"Nope. Sorry. This is what we believe."

I hate the use of "we" in that context. It smacks of exclusivity, as in: excluding those who do not agree.

I do not accept any monolith. I am like Kipling's cat. You know, the one who "walked by himself". I memorized the closing sentences of Kipling's short story (I first read it when I was 17 or something like that - not knowing at the time what a rabid Irish-hater the guy was - I probably wouldn't read Kipling NOW, which would be a shame. That's my own monolithic ideology running the show there).

Anyway, I memorized the closing sentences because they seem to so completely describe my personality. And not just my personality, but ... how I experience my journey through life. I feel like I could have written the lines myself; they seem to have come from me:

The Cat keeps his side of the bargain too. He will kill mice and he will be kind to Babies when he is in the house, as long as they do not pull his tail too hard. But when he has done that, and between times, he is the Cat that walks by himself and all places are alike to him, and if you look out at nights you can see him waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone---just the same as before.

I like to recite that last phrase ... it sings: "you can see him waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone" -- beautiful.

Kipling's Cat would not submit to any monolithic ideology, and neither will I.

Malcolm X and the Loony Bin

Another import from last year - Thanksgiving time - rather an amusing and also interesting tale of Malcolm X

Fascinating discussion around the groaning Thanksgiving table (sometimes the cliches work the best) about public art. It was a table of actors and artists, so it got quite vehement. My father is opposed to public art. His reasons are quite good. But Hunter said, "You're against public art?? Why??"

I said, "Dad, tell the story about the library."

My father is a librarian at a large university library. The library commissioned a local stone-engraver to design and execute a new facade to the building's entrance. Actually, "local" stone-engraver is not the correct term at all. This man happens to live in the state, but he is the premier engraver in the country. He has done monuments in the US Capitol, etc. He is a big big deal.

So his idea for the library was quite wonderful, actually. He would engrave on the walls and on the front of the building quotes from various (unattributed) sources, quotes having to do with learning, knowledge, books. Dante is up there, Wordsworth, a ton of great people. (Nobody attributed, however ... an important thing to remember in lieu of what happened next)

Hunter said, "Did he work with an editorial board in choosing the quotes, or...?"

Dad said, "No. He had someone proofread the quotes, but no. It's public art, you see? It's his artistic expression."

I have seen the facade of the building, of course. And it is gorgeous work. Truly. But a couple of things went wrong. Very wrong.

One of the prominent quotes in the front was from Malcolm X. In order to be a good blogger, I should probably have the exact quote to share with you, but I don't. Here's the jist of the quote: "I love learning and knowledge. If I could, I'd spend all my time in the library." That is a ridiculous over-simplification. My apologies to the literate and expressive Malcolm X. But that is the idea behind the quote. I will provide the actual quote as soon as I am able, I promise!!

So the building facade is revealed when it is completed, it is highly admired, all is well.

A couple of years later, a black man (who was not a student at the school, but basically a person who hung out all the time on the campus) notices something odd. Something that makes him sit up and take notice. There was something wrong with that Malcolm X quote up on the wall.

This man looked through The Autobiography of Malcolm X, searching for the quote. Clearly, the man had to scour the text with a fine-toothed comb in order to locate it. But find it he did. Good for him! Integrity personified! And here is what he discovered:

The actual unedited quote in the text was along the lines of (and again, I apologize...I will get the real quote): "I love learning. If I could take some time out from fighting whitey, I would spend all my time in the library."

A couple of things: the artist had put no ellipses in the engraved quote, indicating that something was omitted. The stone engraver just liked the quote, but knew that he couldn't put the whole "whitey" section on the library walls. So he took it upon himself, because it is HIS artistic expression, to edit Malcolm X, to EDIT MALCOLM X, and use the quote anyway. Not only did he edit Malcolm X, but he didn't put in an "..." to show that he had cut something out. I find this disgusting. You just don't do that.

Malcolm X said what he said for a reason. I may not like it, I may not agree with it, but he is allowed to say what he wants however he wants. To take the quote, chop out the offending words, and not acknowledge that you have done this by at LEAST putting in an ellipses, is vile. Stupid. Unintellectual. (Not exactly the vibe you want to have as you enter a university library.)

It reminds me of the recent furor about the edited texts in the regional tests for high school students. Taking existant work, by well-known authors, and smoothing out anything that might offend anybody at any time. Even words like "fat", or words like "Hispanic". Even (and this one pissed me off the most): editing "California wine and seafood" down to "California seafood." Prudes!! Unintellectual scaredy-cats! My GOD, what a debacle.

I am sure that Malcolm X said other things about education which could have been completely appropriate. Use that! But you sure aren't going to put anything like "I wish I could use the library, but whitey won't let me through the door" over the main entrance at a university building! So why even use the abbreviated quote at all? Malcolm X was saying exactly what he meant with that unedited quote. "If I didn't have to spend all my time fighting whitey, then I might be able to spend more time in the library." That is EXACTLY what he meant to say. It's gross to have some stone-engraver snip out the essence of the quote (however racist or offensive it might be), and put it up on the wall, as though that was all that Malcolm X said or meant.

So this man, after having found out the truth, (God bless him) created an enormous controversy about the edited quote on the library facade. My father told me that he got a bunch of other pissed-off people, and they marched around the campus, they called the media, they made a ton of noise about what was done to Malcolm X's words.

But since this facade was "public art" ... the artist was commissioned to create the library facade, but after that, it was his own personal expression ... nothing could be done. The controversy raged, and now everybody in the state knows the truth: that the quote by the main door at the university library is actually an inflammatory racist statement by Malcolm X, edited by the artist to make it palatable for all. This is enough to turn me off public art as well!

The second issue with all of these engravings is that the artist chose to put directly over the front door the Latin word which had presided over the library in Alexandria before the fire destroyed it, lo, those many millennia ago. Again, I don't know the exact word, but the context in ancient Greece was clear. It meant: "a healing place for the soul". Lovely. A lovely way to think of a library. But of course, in modern times, the same Latin word (and the stone-engraver would have KNOWN this if he had ASKED somebody who was an AUTHORITY) means "nuthouse."

Nuthouse.

The Latin word for "nuthouse" sails above the main entrance to the university library. And right inside, is a lovely and beautiful quote about learning by Malcolm X, which left out the words: "If whitey would get off my case, I'd love to come to the library..."

What a mess.

But hey. It was only the expression of the ARTIST. Nobody is responsible for it. It is what HE felt like saying, what HE felt like creating.

Actually, we all were crying with laughter as my father and my sister Jean told this story in tag-team fashion.

CORRECTIONS

I have received an email from my father, with some corrections to my earlier post about the Malcolm X quote debacle.

Correction #1 I erroneously said that the word for "healing place of the soul" was in Latin over the library door. This is incorrect. It actually is in Greek letters.

Correction #2 The original "healing place of the soul" lettering was not at the library at Alexandria, as I so blithely stated. It was over the door of the library of Ramses II in Egypt.

(There is a question though: are these two, in actuality, the same library?)

UPDATE

I went to the following quote site to see if I could track down the "I wish whitey would let me read" quote. And WHADDYA KNOW: the "quote site" edits him, too. They do put in an ellipses to show that something was cut out, but they do not quote Malcolm X in his entirety. Am I over-reacting? I don't think so. I think it's gross. Malcolm X said EXACTLY what he meant. Trying to whitewash (pun intended) over his racism is stupid. How can we understand the past, and historical characters, if we don't allow ourselves to look at them unedited? I mean, Jesus Christ, I have to hear over and over and over and over and over and over and over again how "Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, Thomas Jefferson owned slaves, Thomas Jefferson owned slaves". If I have to put up with that, then OTHER people can put up with Malcolm X, Mr. Hero, Mr. Savior, railing on and on about whitey.

Anyway: here is the edited quote from the quote site:

The ellipses stand for "If I didn't have to spend all my time fighting whitey..."

My Alma mater was books, a good library... I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity.