I continue to be inspired and awed by the syllabus at The New Inquiry. Thanks, ladies and gentlemen . . .
What are we to make of a study of the number of times words referring to "beauty" appear in literature? Or a study of the role of alleged "universals" in cross-cultural studies? Do we learn what a text has to tell us if we can develop equations concerning word use, placement, and so forth?
At The Common Review, Apurva Narechania describes the work of self-declared "Darwinian critic" Jonathan Gottschall. At the heart of the review is an article Gottschall published, co-authored by his entire class of students, that attempted to go after Naomi Wolf's The Beauty Myth by analyzing the use of words referring to "beauty" in the literary and folk writings across cultures and languages. While western literature does, indeed, have an overabundance of such references, there is a similar pattern across time and space.
Which, it seems to this reader, is neither as surprising nor interesting a result as Gottschall and the editor's of the journal that published his paper seem to think. After all, the issue with which Wolf was wrestling was the social construction of particular aspects of beauty and the ways these social constructs are used by institutions to the detriment of women. Discovering (!!) that other societies, when they tell stories, would tell stories about beautiful women no more discredits Wolf's thesis than it does provide information about the way human beings tell stories. This is the kind of generalized, reductive approach to "criticism" that offers nothing more than begged questions, a restated thesis, and does not address the point at issue at all.
Yet, Narechania is correct that literature departments are in a state of crisis. With the collapse of poststructuralist theory, are we now left with the only possibility being a kind of data mining, as evidenced by Gottschall's study? Are we on the brink, as we enter the second decade of the 21st century, of a science of literature? Will studies of Dickens and Hawthorne, Proust and Pynchon become indistinguishable from studies of molecules and proto-stars? Will we see lit-crit become "scientific", with Gottschall's paper understood as the paradigm shifter, the revolutionary tract that started it all?
Lord, I hope not. Words are not data points. They are historical artifacts. Each time we use a word, the sediment of meaning becomes thicker. Like Heraclitus' river, no word is ever used the same way twice. Stale notions of "quantitative" versus "qualitative" study do not even begin to capture the differences between both the subject matter and methods of physics and literary criticism. Indeed, as Ernst Mayr makes clear, there is a huge distinction within the sciences between physics and biology; attempting to make literary criticism akin to physics is as wrongheaded as trying to make biology like physics. It refuses to recognize the reality that we are dealing with distinct phenomena, that must be addressed with more than one eye on its integrity qua something distinct.
Which is not to say that there is not some use to be made of the notion that our theories, as high-minded as they may be, need to have some contact with reality in order to function. This is true of any theory, and is itself a somewhat banal observation. Gottschall's notion of turning loose graduate students upon texts like a group of geologists on a new planet, say, offers no indication that Gottschall actually wrestles with meaning. Indeed, there is no indication that his so-called "Darwinian theory" of literature has any grasp of that word, even as some kind of operational level.
I suppose my own response would be, in this historical moment when the world of literary theory actually lacks any cohesive understanding of the second part of the phrase, we might return to the text itself as a unit. Treat it with respect; treat it as part of the on-going project of human beings trying to figure their world out, figure their own place in this or that historical moment out. While literary theory is parodied easily enough (and Narechania's article is full of examples), at least it took the text seriously as something human beings used to come to some understanding of themselves. While it might seem blase to say it, criticism should be the place where we at least come to terms with "meaning" as a never-ending process. Counting words, seeing individual stories as evidence of Darwinian evolution does nothing more than beg the question - Why do human beings tell these stories? How does this particular story convey information to those who are (or were) its audience? How does it fit in to our contemporary attempts to understand our own particular historical moment?
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Sexual Orientation And Sex
N.B.: For some reason, after dropping my link to Greenwald, he continues to pop up on my reading radar more often.
Greenwald's confusion on the topic is familiar. I used to feel the same way until I read that sexual minorities differ from straight people in that their sole orientation is sexual. Apparently, it is impossible for gay folk to have friendly relations with straight people because, like Harry Burns in When Harry Met Sally says of unattractive women, "You pretty much want to nail them, too." Among the weird quirks of homophobes is the confusion over the term "sexual" in "homosexual" and "sexual orientation". Rather than "gender", for some reason I cannot fathom, they insist it refers to sexual acts. Thus, a gay man is gay not because he is romantically attracted to other men, but because he desires nothing but sex with men. In this understanding, sexual minorities are not just emotionally stunted, perpetual adolescents whose minds never leave their crotches, but are a direct threat to straight people because they cannot relate to them outside of a desire for sex.
Thus, asking a public figure his or her sexual orientation, quite apart from whether or not it is value neutral or not (and I happen to agree with Glenn that, on the merits, the Obama Administration flubbed this one; they should have told people to mind their own business), is precisely, asking what positions a person prefers, whether or not they have ever been in a threesome, etc. Indeed, for some people, obsessed with the issue of sexual orientation, the revelation this or that person is gay or lesbian reveals much about their sex lives precisely because these people are convinced that is the only thing sexual minorities are interested in.
Like tabloid reporters who focus on the private lives of public figures to the exclusion of any merits their professional lives may have, homophobes who think this way sincerely (and mistakenly) believe that coming out invites all sorts of speculation concerning private sexual practices that become not just fodder for odd fantasies, but relevant to their public lives because these folks really do not believe that sexual minorities have anything other than sex on their minds.
I realize this is an odd position, and I cannot, for the life of me, fathom how this makes anything like a connection with the real world. It is, sadly, true. Thus, questions regarding Solicitor General Kagan's sexual orientation, while certainly, in an ideal world, outside the bounds of propriety, is directly relevant precisely because there are people who believe that if she is, indeed a lesbian (a subject about which I neither know nor care in the slightest), she cannot,ipso facto, be an effective Supreme Court Justice. Her mind will wander between the thighs of female advocates before the court, she will lust after Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Sonia Sotomayor, and hate the six male justices.
Greenwald's confusion on the topic is familiar. I used to feel the same way until I read that sexual minorities differ from straight people in that their sole orientation is sexual. Apparently, it is impossible for gay folk to have friendly relations with straight people because, like Harry Burns in When Harry Met Sally says of unattractive women, "You pretty much want to nail them, too." Among the weird quirks of homophobes is the confusion over the term "sexual" in "homosexual" and "sexual orientation". Rather than "gender", for some reason I cannot fathom, they insist it refers to sexual acts. Thus, a gay man is gay not because he is romantically attracted to other men, but because he desires nothing but sex with men. In this understanding, sexual minorities are not just emotionally stunted, perpetual adolescents whose minds never leave their crotches, but are a direct threat to straight people because they cannot relate to them outside of a desire for sex.
Thus, asking a public figure his or her sexual orientation, quite apart from whether or not it is value neutral or not (and I happen to agree with Glenn that, on the merits, the Obama Administration flubbed this one; they should have told people to mind their own business), is precisely, asking what positions a person prefers, whether or not they have ever been in a threesome, etc. Indeed, for some people, obsessed with the issue of sexual orientation, the revelation this or that person is gay or lesbian reveals much about their sex lives precisely because these people are convinced that is the only thing sexual minorities are interested in.
Like tabloid reporters who focus on the private lives of public figures to the exclusion of any merits their professional lives may have, homophobes who think this way sincerely (and mistakenly) believe that coming out invites all sorts of speculation concerning private sexual practices that become not just fodder for odd fantasies, but relevant to their public lives because these folks really do not believe that sexual minorities have anything other than sex on their minds.
I realize this is an odd position, and I cannot, for the life of me, fathom how this makes anything like a connection with the real world. It is, sadly, true. Thus, questions regarding Solicitor General Kagan's sexual orientation, while certainly, in an ideal world, outside the bounds of propriety, is directly relevant precisely because there are people who believe that if she is, indeed a lesbian (a subject about which I neither know nor care in the slightest), she cannot,ipso facto, be an effective Supreme Court Justice. Her mind will wander between the thighs of female advocates before the court, she will lust after Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Sonia Sotomayor, and hate the six male justices.
Terrorism And The Constitution
Am I missing something? How hard is this to figure out?
Nine years ago, out of what was, quite literally, a clear blue sky on a gorgeous late summer day, two airplanes crashed in to the World Trade Center, while simultaneously a third passenger jet slammed in to the Pentagon. A fourth crashed in Pennsylvania in circumstances that will never be known. Among the reactions to this event was a serious erosion of certain constitutional liberties, and the curbing of some normal civil practices (remember Clear Channel editing certain songs on their radio stations?) in the name of national security. No longer limited to our foreign policy and the general goal of advancing our national interests abroad, national security, for better or worse, had returned to include domestic civil life, as it had done on and off through the years of the Cold War (and, yes, even before that . . .)
Civil libertarians, and even those generally concerned that the US should uphold its most cherished values in the face of direct threats to those values, have been fighting a very long battle against both powerful people in two Presidential Administrations as well as public opinion both on the merits and the principle involved. Part of the reason the fight has been both long and continues is simple enough if you stop and consider that our society is quite open. The legal and constitutional restrictions on police actions, while not as stringent as in some other countries or as they have been even in the recent past, do give even those with serious criminal intent a certain arena of personal freedom to conduct their private affairs free of the state intrusion. For those deemed, not "guilty" as Quiggin says in the linked piece, but certainly suspicious, this arena of personal freedom is viewed as part of the problem. To most people most of the time, who do not engage in any illegal activity and do not view the proposition of state intrusion in previously out-of-bounds areas of personal life as a threat, the notion that these expanded police powers actually constitute not a threat only to those who intend harm but to all persons is nonsensical on the face of it. Why would I, sitting in the privacy of my own home, going about the daily round of my life, fear the state's intrusion in my life? Indeed, even if they did so, what they found would be so banal they would quickly lose interest. What civil libertarians such as Greenwald and others fail to understand is the erosion of constitutional protection against state police powers is welcomed precisely because the threat - terrorist attacks - is so outrageous.
Now, anyone who has read this site for more than a few days should know that I do not support the erosion of constitutional protections. Indeed, the specific issue of Mirandizing terror suspects addressed by Greenwald, seems silly on the face of it. Recent suspects in failed terror attacks have been read their Miranda rights and cooperated with authorities. Quite apart from whether or not this or that person says we should stop reading persons arrested on suspicion of terrorism their rights, any policy expert should know it has not been a barrier to investigation or successful prosecution.
The larger question, for me at least, is the wonder expressed by both Greenwald and the folks at Crooked Timber. After 9/11, the PATRIOT Act was passed in order to assure domestic security in the face of the presence of potential and actual threats to our national security here at home. Yet, threats persisted and there were a series of successful and failed terror attacks (does no one remember the anthrax attacks?). In the wake of each failed attempt, the "ratchet" is turned another notch or two (to borrow the metaphor from Quiggin) because supporters of previous measures realize that the previous measures have failed to protect us. So, we need to "do" more.
The reason it's done? Because they can and they have general public support, without any specific instances of these eroded protections impacting the general public in a negative way. Civil libertarians are correct on the merits, legal and civil. The problem is these aren't just legal and civil matters, but political matters, and the politics, it seems are against those who prefer a broader array of protections against state intrusiveness (people like me).
I should note, also, that the Obama Administration follows the letter and spirit of Bush-era laws regarding state police action because they are the law. As individuals, Barack Obama and Eric Holder may not like the Patriot Act, but as public officials charged to preserve and defend the Constitution, and to follow the law, there is no reason in the world why they shouldn't follow those laws. Repealing them is the provenance of Congress, which hasn't acted.
I have to ask again why this seems to mysterious.
Nine years ago, out of what was, quite literally, a clear blue sky on a gorgeous late summer day, two airplanes crashed in to the World Trade Center, while simultaneously a third passenger jet slammed in to the Pentagon. A fourth crashed in Pennsylvania in circumstances that will never be known. Among the reactions to this event was a serious erosion of certain constitutional liberties, and the curbing of some normal civil practices (remember Clear Channel editing certain songs on their radio stations?) in the name of national security. No longer limited to our foreign policy and the general goal of advancing our national interests abroad, national security, for better or worse, had returned to include domestic civil life, as it had done on and off through the years of the Cold War (and, yes, even before that . . .)
Civil libertarians, and even those generally concerned that the US should uphold its most cherished values in the face of direct threats to those values, have been fighting a very long battle against both powerful people in two Presidential Administrations as well as public opinion both on the merits and the principle involved. Part of the reason the fight has been both long and continues is simple enough if you stop and consider that our society is quite open. The legal and constitutional restrictions on police actions, while not as stringent as in some other countries or as they have been even in the recent past, do give even those with serious criminal intent a certain arena of personal freedom to conduct their private affairs free of the state intrusion. For those deemed, not "guilty" as Quiggin says in the linked piece, but certainly suspicious, this arena of personal freedom is viewed as part of the problem. To most people most of the time, who do not engage in any illegal activity and do not view the proposition of state intrusion in previously out-of-bounds areas of personal life as a threat, the notion that these expanded police powers actually constitute not a threat only to those who intend harm but to all persons is nonsensical on the face of it. Why would I, sitting in the privacy of my own home, going about the daily round of my life, fear the state's intrusion in my life? Indeed, even if they did so, what they found would be so banal they would quickly lose interest. What civil libertarians such as Greenwald and others fail to understand is the erosion of constitutional protection against state police powers is welcomed precisely because the threat - terrorist attacks - is so outrageous.
Now, anyone who has read this site for more than a few days should know that I do not support the erosion of constitutional protections. Indeed, the specific issue of Mirandizing terror suspects addressed by Greenwald, seems silly on the face of it. Recent suspects in failed terror attacks have been read their Miranda rights and cooperated with authorities. Quite apart from whether or not this or that person says we should stop reading persons arrested on suspicion of terrorism their rights, any policy expert should know it has not been a barrier to investigation or successful prosecution.
The larger question, for me at least, is the wonder expressed by both Greenwald and the folks at Crooked Timber. After 9/11, the PATRIOT Act was passed in order to assure domestic security in the face of the presence of potential and actual threats to our national security here at home. Yet, threats persisted and there were a series of successful and failed terror attacks (does no one remember the anthrax attacks?). In the wake of each failed attempt, the "ratchet" is turned another notch or two (to borrow the metaphor from Quiggin) because supporters of previous measures realize that the previous measures have failed to protect us. So, we need to "do" more.
The reason it's done? Because they can and they have general public support, without any specific instances of these eroded protections impacting the general public in a negative way. Civil libertarians are correct on the merits, legal and civil. The problem is these aren't just legal and civil matters, but political matters, and the politics, it seems are against those who prefer a broader array of protections against state intrusiveness (people like me).
I should note, also, that the Obama Administration follows the letter and spirit of Bush-era laws regarding state police action because they are the law. As individuals, Barack Obama and Eric Holder may not like the Patriot Act, but as public officials charged to preserve and defend the Constitution, and to follow the law, there is no reason in the world why they shouldn't follow those laws. Repealing them is the provenance of Congress, which hasn't acted.
I have to ask again why this seems to mysterious.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Comfortably Dumb
Jonah Goldberg set the stage. Newt Gingrich struts out for his soliloquy.
Quite apart from the whole Godwin's Law stuff, this is just farcical.
At least the news media, who think Gingrich some kind of "figure" in our national discourse, are allowing him to staple himself to the Republican Party as we move to an election cycle.
Quite apart from the whole Godwin's Law stuff, this is just farcical.
At least the news media, who think Gingrich some kind of "figure" in our national discourse, are allowing him to staple himself to the Republican Party as we move to an election cycle.
More On Yesterday's Primaries
I heard this Congressional Republican ad masking as a story on NPR this morning, and couldn't help but wonder if Andrea Seabrook is really stupid, or thinks her listeners are.
Just to be clear, far more telling than the "insurgent" candidates winning their primaries in Kentucky and Pennsylvania (in KY it was for an open seat; in PA it was a challenge against an 80-year-old incumbent who switched parties to try and keep his seat), the special election to fill John Murtha's seat in PA-12 (?) was far more telling. This is the kind of "swing district" (and what the hell do those two words denote, anyway? Seabrook doesn't tell us other than they're white) that should have been an easy pick-up for Republicans. Murtha held it for decades, but the constituency there trends socially conservative and the Republican candidate was one such. Stories leading up to the special election pretty much wrote the seat off for the Democrats.
One of Seabrook's points, reiterated several times, what the whole business of the "electorate" being in an "anti-establishment" or "anti-incumbent" mood. I think Matt Yglesias, however, is far more correct.
Furthermore, almost every national election cycle we hear about voters being in an anti-incumbent mood. Yet, rarely do they actually vote that way. Indeed, big switches in party control - 1994 and 2006 being recent examples - involve relatively small rejections of incumbents. For the most part, the incumbents voters are against are those in other districts and states.
One more point on the Seabrook piece. The "story" featured snippets from Republican ads against various Democratic members and candidates, most of which featured attacks on the Speaker of the House, and the charge that this or that person supported "Obamacare". Not a single word as to whether these ads were substantively correct. Indeed, not a word of criticisms on the comments of a Republican spokesperson's claim that Obama's Administration poses some kind of radical danger to the Republic. I know NPR can do better than this kind of crap.
Just to be clear, far more telling than the "insurgent" candidates winning their primaries in Kentucky and Pennsylvania (in KY it was for an open seat; in PA it was a challenge against an 80-year-old incumbent who switched parties to try and keep his seat), the special election to fill John Murtha's seat in PA-12 (?) was far more telling. This is the kind of "swing district" (and what the hell do those two words denote, anyway? Seabrook doesn't tell us other than they're white) that should have been an easy pick-up for Republicans. Murtha held it for decades, but the constituency there trends socially conservative and the Republican candidate was one such. Stories leading up to the special election pretty much wrote the seat off for the Democrats.
One of Seabrook's points, reiterated several times, what the whole business of the "electorate" being in an "anti-establishment" or "anti-incumbent" mood. I think Matt Yglesias, however, is far more correct.
Furthermore, almost every national election cycle we hear about voters being in an anti-incumbent mood. Yet, rarely do they actually vote that way. Indeed, big switches in party control - 1994 and 2006 being recent examples - involve relatively small rejections of incumbents. For the most part, the incumbents voters are against are those in other districts and states.
One more point on the Seabrook piece. The "story" featured snippets from Republican ads against various Democratic members and candidates, most of which featured attacks on the Speaker of the House, and the charge that this or that person supported "Obamacare". Not a single word as to whether these ads were substantively correct. Indeed, not a word of criticisms on the comments of a Republican spokesperson's claim that Obama's Administration poses some kind of radical danger to the Republic. I know NPR can do better than this kind of crap.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Yesterday's Primaries (UPDATE)
So Arlen Specter is out of the Senate after 30 years, Blanche Lincoln faces a run-off, and the Tea Party candidate in Kentucky gets the Republican nod. Oh, and the Republicans lost the special election to fill John Murtha's seat, even though they insisted they had it in the bag.
What does this mean. There are always competing narratives as to what this or that election means, and attempting to draw conclusions that have implications for a general election from a handful of spring primaries is always a dangerous thing. Yet, this merely confirms for me what I've been saying all along. With the Tea Party approved candidates set to be their party's standard-bearer in November, and the Democrats supporting insurgent candidates over establishment ones, it seems to me that both parties are (a) responding to grass-roots groups; and (b) poised to return large Democratic majorities to both houses of Congress. Particularly in the case of Republicans, while the Tea Party certainly makes a lot of noise and gets a lot of press, they have little support beyond their core constituency. I cannot imagine Kentucky electing the Republican candidate; with Pennsylvania having moved pretty firmly to become a Democratic-majority state, I think it's easy enough to predict Joe Sestak will be the next Senator from the Keystone State.
Unlike the Republicans, the Democratic insurgency is similar in many respects to the grass-roots movement that delivered the 2006 and 2008 victories. With candidates that are in touch with the broad mass of the electorate, far more willing to be confrontational that establishment Democrats and the President with their Republican colleagues, I think this bodes well for not just for the party this fall, but for the country and the next Congress.
UPDATE: Atrios nails it.
Like Broder's bit about Bush's comeback, I think we can all sit and have a drink as we wait for it.
What does this mean. There are always competing narratives as to what this or that election means, and attempting to draw conclusions that have implications for a general election from a handful of spring primaries is always a dangerous thing. Yet, this merely confirms for me what I've been saying all along. With the Tea Party approved candidates set to be their party's standard-bearer in November, and the Democrats supporting insurgent candidates over establishment ones, it seems to me that both parties are (a) responding to grass-roots groups; and (b) poised to return large Democratic majorities to both houses of Congress. Particularly in the case of Republicans, while the Tea Party certainly makes a lot of noise and gets a lot of press, they have little support beyond their core constituency. I cannot imagine Kentucky electing the Republican candidate; with Pennsylvania having moved pretty firmly to become a Democratic-majority state, I think it's easy enough to predict Joe Sestak will be the next Senator from the Keystone State.
Unlike the Republicans, the Democratic insurgency is similar in many respects to the grass-roots movement that delivered the 2006 and 2008 victories. With candidates that are in touch with the broad mass of the electorate, far more willing to be confrontational that establishment Democrats and the President with their Republican colleagues, I think this bodes well for not just for the party this fall, but for the country and the next Congress.
UPDATE: Atrios nails it.
For those who are counting, that's 7 straight special elections won by Democrats. I'm sure the Republican wave will start building any minute now.
Like Broder's bit about Bush's comeback, I think we can all sit and have a drink as we wait for it.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Knee-Jerkism
Glenn Greenwald is at it again.
There are few things in this world more tiresome than someone who stops discussion on an issue by declaring that his position, and his alone, is the only correct one; even worse, the declarations Greenwald typically makes - "I'm just quoting here" - in the face of Yglesias' insistence that Greenwald attributes to Matt views Matt does not hold is evidence enough for me that this particular schtick of his is no better than the kind of nonsense one can find here. When a commentator insists they know better what one thinks than that individual, we have left the realm of reality for the outer fringes of Cuckooville.
Whether I agree or disagree with Matt on the merits is not the issue. It is Greenwald's multiple presumptuousness that is the issue here. He can't take Matt at his word because he, Glenn Greenwald, among all commentators, knows better how to interpret what Matt said.
A small dose of STFU might actually do Greenwald some good.
There are few things in this world more tiresome than someone who stops discussion on an issue by declaring that his position, and his alone, is the only correct one; even worse, the declarations Greenwald typically makes - "I'm just quoting here" - in the face of Yglesias' insistence that Greenwald attributes to Matt views Matt does not hold is evidence enough for me that this particular schtick of his is no better than the kind of nonsense one can find here. When a commentator insists they know better what one thinks than that individual, we have left the realm of reality for the outer fringes of Cuckooville.
Whether I agree or disagree with Matt on the merits is not the issue. It is Greenwald's multiple presumptuousness that is the issue here. He can't take Matt at his word because he, Glenn Greenwald, among all commentators, knows better how to interpret what Matt said.
A small dose of STFU might actually do Greenwald some good.
Drafting Roughly
This is a VERY rough draft of what I would like to say, or maybe where I am right now with what is in my mind. Scary thought, that . . .
Ever get a song stuck in your head? About five years ago, I woke up one morning and as Lisa and I puttered around the kitchen, I couldn't take it anymore. I started to tell her that I had this song going through my head, and she told me she had the same thing going on - "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles. I stopped, because I had the same song going through my head. We laughed because, after all, what are the chances that two people would just wake up and have the same song, which we hadn't heard in years, running on a loop through their heads?
Of course, being me, I couldn't leave it at that. After Lisa left for the office, I called Linda [her secretary] and explained the situation to her, and asked her to have a little fun with Lisa by humming the tune when Lisa walked in, and before Lisa could say anything, just ask, "You ever get a song stuck in your head?"
I think of this event whenever I try to figure out "what it is" about music, of all the arts. How many of us have a painting stuck in our heads, or a sculpture? Some people may think of a poem, say, but how many get a passage from a novel stuck in their heads? There is a book out on the neurophysiology of music that I have yet to read, but skimming it at Borders once, this particular phenomenon has to do with pattern recognition, and the repetition is something the brain does to occupy itself.
Which is less an explanation than it is a description.
Of course, we in the Church also get songs stuck in our heads, don't we? How many hymn-sings do we have without anyone asking for "Amazing Grace" or "How Great Thou Art"? I remember very well 20 years ago when the current [UM] hymnal was released to much controversy. Complaints ran the gamut from the folks who missed this, that, or the other hymn that had been dropped to the inclusion of hymns from, and sometimes in the language of, Mexico, Japan, various Indian nations, Ghana, South Africa, and even Vietnam. While it may be that a hymn in Japanese isn't going to be sung too often in Newark Valley, NY or Poplar Grove, IL, it might be sung in a Japanese congregation in an urban area. As a document of the changes in the denomination between 1964 and 1988, our current hymnal is a marvelous historical document.
None of this answers the question, "What is it about music?", but it does offer some hints and clues, I think.
Since St. Paul enjoined the Christian congregation in Corinth to sing a hymn during their weekly gatherings, music has been a part of Christian worship. Indeed, St. Paul quotes a hymn, in his letter to the Philippians, which shows the urge to write hymns is as old as the Christian Church.
Our Jewish and Hebrew ancestors in the faith were enjoined to sing, and writes songs of prayer and praise to God. The Psalms are nothing more than a collection of songs sung in various worship settings, prayers, complaints, and even prophetic witness to the congregation. One gets a sense of how pervasive this communal practice is in reading the exilic Psalm, "By the shores of Babylon we hung our harps". The captors of the people of Judah demanded song, and the Psalmist laments, "How can we sing our song in a foreign land?"
We read today that, when David had the Ark of the Covenant brought to the new capital of Jerusalem, he marched at the front of the procession, dancing so wildly he was criticized for it. Music, and dance which seems to go with it, is at the heart of the Israelite experience of worship. Quite apart from some kind of modern understanding of what it might be about music that compels us, moves us, we need to acknowledge that its presence is taken for granted in the Bible.
Listening to music, unlike, say, looking at a painting or sculpture, or reading a novel or poem, is a participatory thing, a sensual thing, and most of all a social thing. We aren't called to "Paint a new painting unto the LORD" in the Psalms. One Psalm in particular has always spoken to me, though. When the congregation is called to "sing a new song to the LORD", I think of the desire to play something never heard before, sing something never heard before. Jazz clarinetist Artie Shaw, interviewed as part of Ken Burns' Jazz documentary, spoke to this when he was talking about the Glenn Miller Orchestra. While noting that it contained excellent musicians, his complaint was they never played a wrong note. He went on to say that, if you aren't playing a wrong note, you aren't pushing yourself, you aren't trying to play something new. The best musicians and composers strive to figure out ways to play something new and different.
Sometimes these sounds are soft and flowing; sometimes they are very loud, dissonant even, jarring. Hearing something that is really new shakes us out of our complacency.
I think this phenomenon - listening for something new, something different, some combination of sounds that has never been put together in this particular way - goes along with the saying in the prophet Isaiah, "Behold I am doing something new." The new, the possibility of anything new is exciting. All of us here, congregation and parsonage family, are on this journey in different ways right now. All of you are about to experience the arrival of a new pastor, a new way of doing worship, of being the people called Methodist in Poplar Grove and Boone County, IL. Lisa and I and our family are about to enter in to a whole set of new relationships, learning about one another, worshiping together, praying together, laughing together, living together, in Plato Center.
And I have no doubt that when Paul and his wife arrive, they will be moved by this congregation's dedication to musical excellence. I remember vividly our very first Sunday, almost six years ago. Sitting up front, in what I have since learned is the Kniep bench, worship opened with the choir, piano, organ, and bells. I was so moved by how beautiful that musical tribute was, I teared up. Among the many blessings this church offers to God, and to the people in worship, the gift of music is certainly among the best. The sheer variety of opportunities to make music here is pretty astounding. Then, of course, there is the talent - the vocal talent, the instrumental talent, the stylistic talent. Whether it's our marvelous accompanists, the bell choirs, the chancel choir, the praise bands, or even individuals like Stephanie House and John Babcock writing and performing their original songs for us or Matt Nordman playing his trumpet or Lisa playing her flute - we here have the opportunity to participate in new songs each and every worship experience. Something new.
With the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are faced with all the possibilities and hope of all sorts of new things. New life. New creation. No longer stuck in the cycle of life and death, rooted in a past full of sin and death, we are offered the promise that something new is coming, something never witnessed, something never heard. In Revelation, after the tribulation and final battle between the forces of God and the anti-Christ, with the coming of the new heaven and new earth, we hear the song sung before the throne of God, always sung, never ending, "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD and the Lamb who was slain." For me, all music is a participation in this. Whether it's some old guy sitting on a porch strumming an out-of-tune guitar, or a Bach chorale, or a jam session in some club with three musicians trying to rearrange the notes and harmonies, rhythms and melodies in a new way, if we listen close enough, we might just hear that heavenly chorus.
So what is it about music? While I am sure there are all sorts of stuff brain scientists can tell us about the phenomenon, this isn't really an answer so much as restating the question in different words. I do know that, no matter what we prefer to hear, no matter whether we like country music, or hip-hop, or only listen to the songs we grew up with, or are more inclined to tell people to turn the noise off because it's loud and annoying, music binds us, creates images and feelings in us, calls us to pray and shout and clap and cry. This congregation is a wonderful place to experience this, to hear that "something new" played to the LORD, for all of us to hear, to sing along, to join together. We are the latest in a line stretching back in the faith to the time when King David insisted that worship include the music of the harp and lyre, and danced as the Ark was brought to Jerusalem. Just remember, as we sing later, our song reaches to that throne room scene in Revelation, and our words echo there along with those of the chorus before the throne.
Any other explanation, really, pales in comparison to this one - when music is played and heard and sung, we find ourselves joining that chorus. We aren't just going through the motions, but becoming part of the choir that stands and sings before God.
I don't like the ending at all. Comments and constructive criticism welcomed.
Ever get a song stuck in your head? About five years ago, I woke up one morning and as Lisa and I puttered around the kitchen, I couldn't take it anymore. I started to tell her that I had this song going through my head, and she told me she had the same thing going on - "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles. I stopped, because I had the same song going through my head. We laughed because, after all, what are the chances that two people would just wake up and have the same song, which we hadn't heard in years, running on a loop through their heads?
Of course, being me, I couldn't leave it at that. After Lisa left for the office, I called Linda [her secretary] and explained the situation to her, and asked her to have a little fun with Lisa by humming the tune when Lisa walked in, and before Lisa could say anything, just ask, "You ever get a song stuck in your head?"
I think of this event whenever I try to figure out "what it is" about music, of all the arts. How many of us have a painting stuck in our heads, or a sculpture? Some people may think of a poem, say, but how many get a passage from a novel stuck in their heads? There is a book out on the neurophysiology of music that I have yet to read, but skimming it at Borders once, this particular phenomenon has to do with pattern recognition, and the repetition is something the brain does to occupy itself.
Which is less an explanation than it is a description.
Of course, we in the Church also get songs stuck in our heads, don't we? How many hymn-sings do we have without anyone asking for "Amazing Grace" or "How Great Thou Art"? I remember very well 20 years ago when the current [UM] hymnal was released to much controversy. Complaints ran the gamut from the folks who missed this, that, or the other hymn that had been dropped to the inclusion of hymns from, and sometimes in the language of, Mexico, Japan, various Indian nations, Ghana, South Africa, and even Vietnam. While it may be that a hymn in Japanese isn't going to be sung too often in Newark Valley, NY or Poplar Grove, IL, it might be sung in a Japanese congregation in an urban area. As a document of the changes in the denomination between 1964 and 1988, our current hymnal is a marvelous historical document.
None of this answers the question, "What is it about music?", but it does offer some hints and clues, I think.
Since St. Paul enjoined the Christian congregation in Corinth to sing a hymn during their weekly gatherings, music has been a part of Christian worship. Indeed, St. Paul quotes a hymn, in his letter to the Philippians, which shows the urge to write hymns is as old as the Christian Church.
Our Jewish and Hebrew ancestors in the faith were enjoined to sing, and writes songs of prayer and praise to God. The Psalms are nothing more than a collection of songs sung in various worship settings, prayers, complaints, and even prophetic witness to the congregation. One gets a sense of how pervasive this communal practice is in reading the exilic Psalm, "By the shores of Babylon we hung our harps". The captors of the people of Judah demanded song, and the Psalmist laments, "How can we sing our song in a foreign land?"
We read today that, when David had the Ark of the Covenant brought to the new capital of Jerusalem, he marched at the front of the procession, dancing so wildly he was criticized for it. Music, and dance which seems to go with it, is at the heart of the Israelite experience of worship. Quite apart from some kind of modern understanding of what it might be about music that compels us, moves us, we need to acknowledge that its presence is taken for granted in the Bible.
Listening to music, unlike, say, looking at a painting or sculpture, or reading a novel or poem, is a participatory thing, a sensual thing, and most of all a social thing. We aren't called to "Paint a new painting unto the LORD" in the Psalms. One Psalm in particular has always spoken to me, though. When the congregation is called to "sing a new song to the LORD", I think of the desire to play something never heard before, sing something never heard before. Jazz clarinetist Artie Shaw, interviewed as part of Ken Burns' Jazz documentary, spoke to this when he was talking about the Glenn Miller Orchestra. While noting that it contained excellent musicians, his complaint was they never played a wrong note. He went on to say that, if you aren't playing a wrong note, you aren't pushing yourself, you aren't trying to play something new. The best musicians and composers strive to figure out ways to play something new and different.
Sometimes these sounds are soft and flowing; sometimes they are very loud, dissonant even, jarring. Hearing something that is really new shakes us out of our complacency.
I think this phenomenon - listening for something new, something different, some combination of sounds that has never been put together in this particular way - goes along with the saying in the prophet Isaiah, "Behold I am doing something new." The new, the possibility of anything new is exciting. All of us here, congregation and parsonage family, are on this journey in different ways right now. All of you are about to experience the arrival of a new pastor, a new way of doing worship, of being the people called Methodist in Poplar Grove and Boone County, IL. Lisa and I and our family are about to enter in to a whole set of new relationships, learning about one another, worshiping together, praying together, laughing together, living together, in Plato Center.
And I have no doubt that when Paul and his wife arrive, they will be moved by this congregation's dedication to musical excellence. I remember vividly our very first Sunday, almost six years ago. Sitting up front, in what I have since learned is the Kniep bench, worship opened with the choir, piano, organ, and bells. I was so moved by how beautiful that musical tribute was, I teared up. Among the many blessings this church offers to God, and to the people in worship, the gift of music is certainly among the best. The sheer variety of opportunities to make music here is pretty astounding. Then, of course, there is the talent - the vocal talent, the instrumental talent, the stylistic talent. Whether it's our marvelous accompanists, the bell choirs, the chancel choir, the praise bands, or even individuals like Stephanie House and John Babcock writing and performing their original songs for us or Matt Nordman playing his trumpet or Lisa playing her flute - we here have the opportunity to participate in new songs each and every worship experience. Something new.
With the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are faced with all the possibilities and hope of all sorts of new things. New life. New creation. No longer stuck in the cycle of life and death, rooted in a past full of sin and death, we are offered the promise that something new is coming, something never witnessed, something never heard. In Revelation, after the tribulation and final battle between the forces of God and the anti-Christ, with the coming of the new heaven and new earth, we hear the song sung before the throne of God, always sung, never ending, "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD and the Lamb who was slain." For me, all music is a participation in this. Whether it's some old guy sitting on a porch strumming an out-of-tune guitar, or a Bach chorale, or a jam session in some club with three musicians trying to rearrange the notes and harmonies, rhythms and melodies in a new way, if we listen close enough, we might just hear that heavenly chorus.
So what is it about music? While I am sure there are all sorts of stuff brain scientists can tell us about the phenomenon, this isn't really an answer so much as restating the question in different words. I do know that, no matter what we prefer to hear, no matter whether we like country music, or hip-hop, or only listen to the songs we grew up with, or are more inclined to tell people to turn the noise off because it's loud and annoying, music binds us, creates images and feelings in us, calls us to pray and shout and clap and cry. This congregation is a wonderful place to experience this, to hear that "something new" played to the LORD, for all of us to hear, to sing along, to join together. We are the latest in a line stretching back in the faith to the time when King David insisted that worship include the music of the harp and lyre, and danced as the Ark was brought to Jerusalem. Just remember, as we sing later, our song reaches to that throne room scene in Revelation, and our words echo there along with those of the chorus before the throne.
Any other explanation, really, pales in comparison to this one - when music is played and heard and sung, we find ourselves joining that chorus. We aren't just going through the motions, but becoming part of the choir that stands and sings before God.
I don't like the ending at all. Comments and constructive criticism welcomed.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Sermon Thoughts II
This is more in the manner of deep background, as the journalists call it. I probably will not discuss any of this explicitly, but it certainly forms the core of my approach to my life in the faith.
I know I am in a minority of no more than myself in this, but I do not believe there is such a distinction as exists between those things that are "sacred" (dedicated to God) and "profane" (dedicated to our earthly life and having no bearing on our relationship with God). In the passion narrative in St. Matthew's Gospel, at the moment of Jesus' death, the veil in the Temple - the veil that separated the Ark of the Covenant, the throne of God, the Holy of Holies, from the people - is torn asunder. St. Paul calls the cross a stumbling block and a scandal precisely because it was understood to be reserved for that most horrid of crimes, treachery against the rulers. Making of the method used by the Romans to execute Jesus a symbol of God's love would be like enshrining the electric chair or hypodermic needle used in executions here in the US.
If we consider the reality of the death and resurrection of Jesus, and the free and unmerited grace offered all creation in that event, the idea that there is any area of human life that is or even can be cordoned off and called "profane" is nonsensical. All of our life, as we await the final consummation of God's plan for a new creation, is a participation in God's Providential grace and love. Even the most terrible horrors also have a spark of God's grace in them. Whether it is mass murder, natural disasters, love and sex, sitting and eating a meal, or the arts, there exists the possibility of experiencing the grace of God at the heart of it that transcends our own attempts at moral definition.
For this reason, every space is a holy, sacred place, every song is a sacred song. The categories by which we order our lives crumble under the Divine power of God's gracious love; those who insist that there are words or deeds that are "inappropriate" for Church are not reckoning with the love of God, but their own sense of social propriety. Those who think there are songs that should not be sung are doing much the same thing. While it may be true that, in practice, we accept certain social proprieties - I, for one, as a practicing mobile disc jockey, would never play a song with foul language that had not been edited out if I knew there were children or others present who would be offended - on a theological level, at least, we also have to grant the artificiality, the contingency of these kinds of decisions. They have nothing of God's grace about them.
I know I am in a minority of no more than myself in this, but I do not believe there is such a distinction as exists between those things that are "sacred" (dedicated to God) and "profane" (dedicated to our earthly life and having no bearing on our relationship with God). In the passion narrative in St. Matthew's Gospel, at the moment of Jesus' death, the veil in the Temple - the veil that separated the Ark of the Covenant, the throne of God, the Holy of Holies, from the people - is torn asunder. St. Paul calls the cross a stumbling block and a scandal precisely because it was understood to be reserved for that most horrid of crimes, treachery against the rulers. Making of the method used by the Romans to execute Jesus a symbol of God's love would be like enshrining the electric chair or hypodermic needle used in executions here in the US.
If we consider the reality of the death and resurrection of Jesus, and the free and unmerited grace offered all creation in that event, the idea that there is any area of human life that is or even can be cordoned off and called "profane" is nonsensical. All of our life, as we await the final consummation of God's plan for a new creation, is a participation in God's Providential grace and love. Even the most terrible horrors also have a spark of God's grace in them. Whether it is mass murder, natural disasters, love and sex, sitting and eating a meal, or the arts, there exists the possibility of experiencing the grace of God at the heart of it that transcends our own attempts at moral definition.
For this reason, every space is a holy, sacred place, every song is a sacred song. The categories by which we order our lives crumble under the Divine power of God's gracious love; those who insist that there are words or deeds that are "inappropriate" for Church are not reckoning with the love of God, but their own sense of social propriety. Those who think there are songs that should not be sung are doing much the same thing. While it may be true that, in practice, we accept certain social proprieties - I, for one, as a practicing mobile disc jockey, would never play a song with foul language that had not been edited out if I knew there were children or others present who would be offended - on a theological level, at least, we also have to grant the artificiality, the contingency of these kinds of decisions. They have nothing of God's grace about them.
Political Tourette's
They just can't help the hate.
Obviously, giving the title Miss USA to a Muslim is a sign that, soon, we shall all live under Sharia. Except, instead of burkhas, the women will wear evening gowns and bikinis.
When I heard this morning on my drive home from work that an Arab American had won, I just knew folks on the right would start crap like this. They are all subjects in a Skinner experiment, it seems. . .
– Conservative radio host Debbie Schlussel blamed Fakih’s win on a supposed “politically correct, Islamo-pandering climate” in America and labeled her a “Lebanese Muslim Hezbollah supporter with relatives who are top terrorists.” [5/16/10]
– Right wing pundit and Fox contributor Michelle Malkin ranted that “Fakih’s cheerleaders are too busy tooting the identity politics horn to care what comes out of her mouth” and that “the Miss USA pageant didn’t want to risk the wrath of the open-borders mob.” [5/16/10]
– Conservative author Daniel Pipes, who was briefly appointed by former President George W. Bush to the U.S. Institute of Peace, opined that “this surprising frequency of Muslims winning beauty pageants makes me suspect an odd form of affirmative action.” [5/16/10]
– Fox News’s Gretchen Carlson complained that Woolard’s “informed opinion” may have cost her the crown, and said that Fakih may have won because we live in a “PC society.” [5/17/10]
Obviously, giving the title Miss USA to a Muslim is a sign that, soon, we shall all live under Sharia. Except, instead of burkhas, the women will wear evening gowns and bikinis.
When I heard this morning on my drive home from work that an Arab American had won, I just knew folks on the right would start crap like this. They are all subjects in a Skinner experiment, it seems. . .
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sermon Thoughts I
Since I'm preaching next weekend, I have been mulling some ideas I want to include, and how much of them. These are more in the nature of thematic content, rather than the way I want my sermon structured. Help in the form of feedback would be gratefully appreciated.
My wife and I were talking about the subject, and wondered aloud, "What is it about music, anyway?"
Music is a way to order chaos. Before there were the rules of literature - theme, plot, character development, and so forth - there are the far more basic, elemental structural rules of music - rhythm, harmony, and melody. They impose a most basic structural rigidity upon how we wish to go about telling a story. The earliest stories, in any case, were sung before they were spoken, and the imposition of the structure of song creates a framework which forces the narrative to flow this way and not that, to move forward orderly, rather than flip, flop, and meander. Other elements of musical composition - dynamics and meter, for example - have to serve the far more basic demands of the rhythm, the harmony, and melody.
As such, music is primarily a social art form, more so than, say, painting or sculpture. While the products of the plastic arts are certainly meant to be shared with a wider audience, and to so to communicate, even to tell a story (consider the cave paintings in Lescaux, in France, as an example). Yet, we don't sit around and paint together in worship. Instead, we sit and sing together, expressing our faith and praise, praying and confessing within the ordered rules of song.
With those rare exceptions of Free Jazz and experiments in group improvisation in both jazz and rock music, music of necessity follows these strict rules. Even in other cultural settings, where musical development can be strikingly different. For example, the diatonic scale of the west is not the only musical scale. A friend of mine in Virginia, enjoying the sitar music of Ravi Shankar, tried to learn to play it, and discovered, much to his chagrin, there is actually a different note, say, between F# and G-flat! This is one of many reasons music from India sounds so discordant to our ears - it utilizes sounds that are not utilized in western music.
This idea - discord - is another that has fluctuated in meaning over the centuries, even in the west. For all the years music in the west was dominated by the monastery, there were certain harmonic structures - both well known such as the Dorian mode - and less well-known that have become commonplace in musical composition. The most famous is the use, by jazz musicians after the Second World War, of what was called "the devil's harmony" - the flatted fifth. This discord in particular, precisely because it sounds not so much "wrong" as sinister, was actually anathematized by the Roman Catholic Church.
Discord is often in the ear of the hearer, too. There are many people who quite simply cannot listen, say, to the composer Schoenberg, or avante-garde pianist Cecil Taylor, or post-bop jazz pianist Thelonius Monk because of their use of what sounds like discord. Stravinksy became enamored of non-western music and incorporated it in to his suite, "The Rite Of Spring"; at its debut in Paris, the audience quite literally rioted because the sounds were so strange. Because what often sounds discordant is not resolved by some composers and performers, but used as a platform for expanding our ideas of harmonic structure as well as melody, there seems to be less structure to such compositions. Whether it's "Pharoah's Dance" by Miles Davis, or the long, free-form group improvisations of King Crimson or Phish, by violating harmonic rules, we tend to think of them as not so much "making music" as playing, pure and simple. The accusation, in turn, is usually accompanied by that most feared of critical epithets - self-indulgence. Musical onanism certainly shares with its sexual cousin the reality that it doesn't create anything other than a mess. Yet, in the same way that sexual onanism serves as a way for us to learn about ourselves, so, too, musical self-indulgence allows the individual to push his or her limits, perhaps clear up questions and offer the opportunity to explore what might otherwise not be explored.
OK, I probably won't use the whole masturbation thing in my sermon . . .
My wife and I were talking about the subject, and wondered aloud, "What is it about music, anyway?"
Music is a way to order chaos. Before there were the rules of literature - theme, plot, character development, and so forth - there are the far more basic, elemental structural rules of music - rhythm, harmony, and melody. They impose a most basic structural rigidity upon how we wish to go about telling a story. The earliest stories, in any case, were sung before they were spoken, and the imposition of the structure of song creates a framework which forces the narrative to flow this way and not that, to move forward orderly, rather than flip, flop, and meander. Other elements of musical composition - dynamics and meter, for example - have to serve the far more basic demands of the rhythm, the harmony, and melody.
As such, music is primarily a social art form, more so than, say, painting or sculpture. While the products of the plastic arts are certainly meant to be shared with a wider audience, and to so to communicate, even to tell a story (consider the cave paintings in Lescaux, in France, as an example). Yet, we don't sit around and paint together in worship. Instead, we sit and sing together, expressing our faith and praise, praying and confessing within the ordered rules of song.
With those rare exceptions of Free Jazz and experiments in group improvisation in both jazz and rock music, music of necessity follows these strict rules. Even in other cultural settings, where musical development can be strikingly different. For example, the diatonic scale of the west is not the only musical scale. A friend of mine in Virginia, enjoying the sitar music of Ravi Shankar, tried to learn to play it, and discovered, much to his chagrin, there is actually a different note, say, between F# and G-flat! This is one of many reasons music from India sounds so discordant to our ears - it utilizes sounds that are not utilized in western music.
This idea - discord - is another that has fluctuated in meaning over the centuries, even in the west. For all the years music in the west was dominated by the monastery, there were certain harmonic structures - both well known such as the Dorian mode - and less well-known that have become commonplace in musical composition. The most famous is the use, by jazz musicians after the Second World War, of what was called "the devil's harmony" - the flatted fifth. This discord in particular, precisely because it sounds not so much "wrong" as sinister, was actually anathematized by the Roman Catholic Church.
Discord is often in the ear of the hearer, too. There are many people who quite simply cannot listen, say, to the composer Schoenberg, or avante-garde pianist Cecil Taylor, or post-bop jazz pianist Thelonius Monk because of their use of what sounds like discord. Stravinksy became enamored of non-western music and incorporated it in to his suite, "The Rite Of Spring"; at its debut in Paris, the audience quite literally rioted because the sounds were so strange. Because what often sounds discordant is not resolved by some composers and performers, but used as a platform for expanding our ideas of harmonic structure as well as melody, there seems to be less structure to such compositions. Whether it's "Pharoah's Dance" by Miles Davis, or the long, free-form group improvisations of King Crimson or Phish, by violating harmonic rules, we tend to think of them as not so much "making music" as playing, pure and simple. The accusation, in turn, is usually accompanied by that most feared of critical epithets - self-indulgence. Musical onanism certainly shares with its sexual cousin the reality that it doesn't create anything other than a mess. Yet, in the same way that sexual onanism serves as a way for us to learn about ourselves, so, too, musical self-indulgence allows the individual to push his or her limits, perhaps clear up questions and offer the opportunity to explore what might otherwise not be explored.
OK, I probably won't use the whole masturbation thing in my sermon . . .
Identity & The Internet
There are a couple posts at Crooked Timber on the question of identity in the age of the Internet that tie in, in a strange way, with an odd discussion I've been having here. Since "Know Thyself" is perhaps the hardest philosophical dictum with which to come to terms, and in any case is something that is always in process, one that can never be accomplished fully, it is almost futile to consider the question as a serious one.
Along with this site, I am on Facebook (FB), along with 400,000,000 other people. The idea that FB creates a space on the internet transparent enough to reveal something about ourselves to others is kind of silly. For all anyone knows, even the most intimate details on FB can be fabricated. Whether its the family photos, the expression events in one's day, clicking "like" or "dislike" on this or that subject-matter, song, group, whatever - it can all be a construct. Shoot, I could be making up pretty much everything about me, including multiple identities so that it appears I have close friends and family who know me. To complain about a lack of privacy, of threats to our identity to the point where the personae we don in various settings in our lives - as parents, spouses, workers, siblings, what-have-you - become superfluous is nonsense on the face of it.
Everything we know about others, even those most closely related to us, who share the most intimate relations with us, rests upon a certain amount of trust. There are always gaps, always hidden, secret places in the lives of those even of those to whom we are closest. For example, last weekend, my wife and I celebrated our seventeenth wedding anniversary, and I can say, with all confidence and a great deal of joy, that I still do not know everything about her. The reason I can say this is simple - I recognize and grant her own particularity, her individuality, and allow her the space to be Lisa as pastor, ministerial colleague, church leader, youth leader, in ways that do not impact my own interactions with her. Which is not to say I do not consider her, along with being my wife, my own pastor also. It is just that the mixing of identities, at that point, creates a muddle at times. Also, since I look forward to a lifetime of discovery with her, I know there are all sorts of things coming up that we will share, but have not shared, and I have no idea how we will be in the midst of it all. Our children's adolescence, special moments such as proms, graduations, weddings, our retirement together - just to name a few. These are very real possibilities in our combined future, things we talk about, think about, plan for, to be sure, but things that we cannot, now, not having lived through them, have any notion of how we shall be in the midst of them.
I am always amused by the reactions some people have on the internet to people they have yet to meet. Quite apart from our knowledge of these others limited by two things - what they choose to reveal of their own lives, and how trustworthy those reports actually are - we could very possibly be having discussion and even budding friendships with people who are not at all who they claim to be.
The idea that FB, or anyplace else on the Internet, creates dangers to our identity in some deep sense - not our legal identity, as in stealing our name or some other part of our legal identity for nefarious purposes - is to grant far more power to the internet while simultaneously buying in to the idea that there is some kind of scrupulous honesty on the internet. I don't. While I trust that those with whom I've interacted over the years are, at the very least, who they say they are, I also would never think that I know who they are. In some cases I anticipate meeting them with joy; in other cases, maybe not so much, but at least these responses are based on my own sense that these people, by turns and respectively, would be fun to be around, or not.
Yet, far too often, people make noises that they may "know" something about me, or others may claim to "know" something about someone that transcends any revelations we may make about ourselves on the internet. In most cases, these "knowings" are quite wrong, almost laughably so. I used to feel the need to correct these intuitive leaps; anymore, I just laugh at folks who think they have any idea who I am apart from what I choose to make plain in our interactions.
So, I don't worry about threats to my identity in the age (or perhaps moment) of Facebook, because I would never presume that even those closest to me ever reveal anything close to their real identities there, or anywhere else.
Along with this site, I am on Facebook (FB), along with 400,000,000 other people. The idea that FB creates a space on the internet transparent enough to reveal something about ourselves to others is kind of silly. For all anyone knows, even the most intimate details on FB can be fabricated. Whether its the family photos, the expression events in one's day, clicking "like" or "dislike" on this or that subject-matter, song, group, whatever - it can all be a construct. Shoot, I could be making up pretty much everything about me, including multiple identities so that it appears I have close friends and family who know me. To complain about a lack of privacy, of threats to our identity to the point where the personae we don in various settings in our lives - as parents, spouses, workers, siblings, what-have-you - become superfluous is nonsense on the face of it.
Everything we know about others, even those most closely related to us, who share the most intimate relations with us, rests upon a certain amount of trust. There are always gaps, always hidden, secret places in the lives of those even of those to whom we are closest. For example, last weekend, my wife and I celebrated our seventeenth wedding anniversary, and I can say, with all confidence and a great deal of joy, that I still do not know everything about her. The reason I can say this is simple - I recognize and grant her own particularity, her individuality, and allow her the space to be Lisa as pastor, ministerial colleague, church leader, youth leader, in ways that do not impact my own interactions with her. Which is not to say I do not consider her, along with being my wife, my own pastor also. It is just that the mixing of identities, at that point, creates a muddle at times. Also, since I look forward to a lifetime of discovery with her, I know there are all sorts of things coming up that we will share, but have not shared, and I have no idea how we will be in the midst of it all. Our children's adolescence, special moments such as proms, graduations, weddings, our retirement together - just to name a few. These are very real possibilities in our combined future, things we talk about, think about, plan for, to be sure, but things that we cannot, now, not having lived through them, have any notion of how we shall be in the midst of them.
I am always amused by the reactions some people have on the internet to people they have yet to meet. Quite apart from our knowledge of these others limited by two things - what they choose to reveal of their own lives, and how trustworthy those reports actually are - we could very possibly be having discussion and even budding friendships with people who are not at all who they claim to be.
The idea that FB, or anyplace else on the Internet, creates dangers to our identity in some deep sense - not our legal identity, as in stealing our name or some other part of our legal identity for nefarious purposes - is to grant far more power to the internet while simultaneously buying in to the idea that there is some kind of scrupulous honesty on the internet. I don't. While I trust that those with whom I've interacted over the years are, at the very least, who they say they are, I also would never think that I know who they are. In some cases I anticipate meeting them with joy; in other cases, maybe not so much, but at least these responses are based on my own sense that these people, by turns and respectively, would be fun to be around, or not.
Yet, far too often, people make noises that they may "know" something about me, or others may claim to "know" something about someone that transcends any revelations we may make about ourselves on the internet. In most cases, these "knowings" are quite wrong, almost laughably so. I used to feel the need to correct these intuitive leaps; anymore, I just laugh at folks who think they have any idea who I am apart from what I choose to make plain in our interactions.
So, I don't worry about threats to my identity in the age (or perhaps moment) of Facebook, because I would never presume that even those closest to me ever reveal anything close to their real identities there, or anywhere else.
Just Curious
I know this will not be the last time this question is asked, either by me or someone else.
Who cares what Newt Gingrich thinks about anything? So, he's published a book. Wow.
Here's a guy whose history of just making stuff up is so long that repeating it would be tiresome. He's intellectually dishonest, almost pathologically incapable of keeping his mouth closed, disliked by the American people, was booted from office by his own party for multiple failures of leadership. He is, quite simply, nobody. On his third wife (who, if she had any sense, would make sure all of her husband's staff was male, considering Newt's history . . .), talking about how wonderfully inviolable the institution is.
He doesn't even provide comic relief any more. I'm just tired of seeing and hearing him.
Who cares what Newt Gingrich thinks about anything? So, he's published a book. Wow.
Here's a guy whose history of just making stuff up is so long that repeating it would be tiresome. He's intellectually dishonest, almost pathologically incapable of keeping his mouth closed, disliked by the American people, was booted from office by his own party for multiple failures of leadership. He is, quite simply, nobody. On his third wife (who, if she had any sense, would make sure all of her husband's staff was male, considering Newt's history . . .), talking about how wonderfully inviolable the institution is.
He doesn't even provide comic relief any more. I'm just tired of seeing and hearing him.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Book Reviewing As High Comedy
Lee Siegel's review of Paul Berman's The Flight of the Intellectuals is a marvelously funny piece of criticism (and thank you, Scott, for the link). While I can appreciate Scott's comment on the review (which is also quite funny), the end of Siegel's review captures an attitude I have found far too frequently, and not just on the internet:
That brave soul, standing athwart the tide - whether it be left or right, intellectual elitism or anti-intellectual buffoonery, the theocratic threat or the secular humanist threat - is the creation of those individuals' own grand sense of their own place in history.
Me, I'm happy with a small blog that about three people read with any regularity.
Of course, this doesn't detract from the fact that a bit of score-settling may be taking place here. Moral rectitude is a pose I dislike in any case; vengeance disguised as moral rectitude is particularly nasty.
But, it can also be funny.
When I read Mr. Berman, I don't think romantically of those dreadful old Partisan Review "smackdowns." Instead, I recall this line spoken by Dostoevsky's Father Zossima in The Brothers Karamazov: "Suffering is the inability to love." The problem with that kind of suffering is that it blinds you to everyone else's. You become a hero in your own mind, the rest of the world be damned.
That brave soul, standing athwart the tide - whether it be left or right, intellectual elitism or anti-intellectual buffoonery, the theocratic threat or the secular humanist threat - is the creation of those individuals' own grand sense of their own place in history.
Me, I'm happy with a small blog that about three people read with any regularity.
Of course, this doesn't detract from the fact that a bit of score-settling may be taking place here. Moral rectitude is a pose I dislike in any case; vengeance disguised as moral rectitude is particularly nasty.
But, it can also be funny.
Good For The Soul
I mention no names or places here, to protect myself from any chance legal liability. On the other hand, I hope the point is clear that the only person who comes out of this looking bad is me.
The best supervisors at a place of business are those who not only support those under them positively, but those who are quite willing to hand them their ass when necessary. The other night, I had my ass handed to me, on a silver platter. I want to take a moment to thank my supervisor for doing this. It is significant that this was the last chance this person had to do this for me, and it was done clearly, professionally, and even thoughtfully. My only regret is I won't have the opportunity to prove that I can, indeed, change for the better.
I've worked at the same place for about three and a half years. While hardly a world-changing, life-changing job, it is a job. The past two years, however, the job has become progressively more physically demanding. Always physically stressful, the changes I have gone through moving from just-turn-41 to 44 are taking their toll. Because of that, I have, over time, cut little corners here, there, and elsewhere in the performance of my duties, always with one eye on some parts of my job, but another eye - far more jaundiced - turned askance at it.
Suffice it to say I was called out on my performance the other night. The accumulation of grievances became the subject of a heated exchange between me and my supervisor. While not granting every single accusation made as accurate, suffice it to say that, in sum, the diagnosis of the issue was spot on. Significantly, it was toward the end of a dressing down both long-needed and much deserved, in what seemed like a throw-away line at the time, that I realized where my error lay. I was told, "Sure, you aren't a surgeon or a lawyer, but you should still do your job as best you can," or words to that effect.
In other words, I was getting a lecture in work-place ethics in which it was being made clear that mine were found wanting. And for precisely the reasons set out, too. Because the work isn't "significant", or "important", or some other socially-acceptable bit of employment, I consoled my own decreasing lack of performance over time in the understanding that it didn't really matter all that much.
Except, of course, it does. It's a matter of character. A matter of ensuring that, no matter the job or task, is done with dedication and thoroughness. What I feel most ashamed of is not the details of my failure which are, in fact, relatively easily remediable. A bit of a slower pace, a bit more attention to detail, a bit of thought and concentration on the task at hand - that's all that is required. It is the ethical failure, the realization that on an issue as important as how one views and conducts oneself as a worker - regardless of the work in question - I had been found wanting, that troubles me. For this, I am heartily sorry; I hope that I can show others, in the near future, that this is a situation I understand, and will change.
I have been fortunate in my time at this particular place because I have been surrounded by people who, working under all kinds of stresses and limitations, manage to do incredible amounts of work - physically taxing if not precisely intellectually stimulating - not only with dedication, but with a sense of fun. All of that flowed down from a one particular person who will no longer have the position of supervisor come our next work week, through no fault of this person's own. I guess I want to take a moment to say, "Thank you," because I really have learned so much from this person. I'm just sorry it took so long, that I was too thick to allow the lesson to penetrate until the last possible moment.
A little confession is good for the soul, so they say (hence the title). A little penitence, at least in this case in the form of a conscious effort to make some ever-so-slight adjustments in my own work habits, will also do me good. I hope, for my own sake, that the words have not come too late. I also hope this person understands how grateful I am and have been to be able to work with someone who understands far better than I do what it means to work ethically.
The best supervisors at a place of business are those who not only support those under them positively, but those who are quite willing to hand them their ass when necessary. The other night, I had my ass handed to me, on a silver platter. I want to take a moment to thank my supervisor for doing this. It is significant that this was the last chance this person had to do this for me, and it was done clearly, professionally, and even thoughtfully. My only regret is I won't have the opportunity to prove that I can, indeed, change for the better.
I've worked at the same place for about three and a half years. While hardly a world-changing, life-changing job, it is a job. The past two years, however, the job has become progressively more physically demanding. Always physically stressful, the changes I have gone through moving from just-turn-41 to 44 are taking their toll. Because of that, I have, over time, cut little corners here, there, and elsewhere in the performance of my duties, always with one eye on some parts of my job, but another eye - far more jaundiced - turned askance at it.
Suffice it to say I was called out on my performance the other night. The accumulation of grievances became the subject of a heated exchange between me and my supervisor. While not granting every single accusation made as accurate, suffice it to say that, in sum, the diagnosis of the issue was spot on. Significantly, it was toward the end of a dressing down both long-needed and much deserved, in what seemed like a throw-away line at the time, that I realized where my error lay. I was told, "Sure, you aren't a surgeon or a lawyer, but you should still do your job as best you can," or words to that effect.
In other words, I was getting a lecture in work-place ethics in which it was being made clear that mine were found wanting. And for precisely the reasons set out, too. Because the work isn't "significant", or "important", or some other socially-acceptable bit of employment, I consoled my own decreasing lack of performance over time in the understanding that it didn't really matter all that much.
Except, of course, it does. It's a matter of character. A matter of ensuring that, no matter the job or task, is done with dedication and thoroughness. What I feel most ashamed of is not the details of my failure which are, in fact, relatively easily remediable. A bit of a slower pace, a bit more attention to detail, a bit of thought and concentration on the task at hand - that's all that is required. It is the ethical failure, the realization that on an issue as important as how one views and conducts oneself as a worker - regardless of the work in question - I had been found wanting, that troubles me. For this, I am heartily sorry; I hope that I can show others, in the near future, that this is a situation I understand, and will change.
I have been fortunate in my time at this particular place because I have been surrounded by people who, working under all kinds of stresses and limitations, manage to do incredible amounts of work - physically taxing if not precisely intellectually stimulating - not only with dedication, but with a sense of fun. All of that flowed down from a one particular person who will no longer have the position of supervisor come our next work week, through no fault of this person's own. I guess I want to take a moment to say, "Thank you," because I really have learned so much from this person. I'm just sorry it took so long, that I was too thick to allow the lesson to penetrate until the last possible moment.
A little confession is good for the soul, so they say (hence the title). A little penitence, at least in this case in the form of a conscious effort to make some ever-so-slight adjustments in my own work habits, will also do me good. I hope, for my own sake, that the words have not come too late. I also hope this person understands how grateful I am and have been to be able to work with someone who understands far better than I do what it means to work ethically.
Ignorance & American Representative Democracy
N.B.: This is just one of what will be at least two posts on this paper (.pdf) linked via a comment at Crooked Timber.
Taking one's cue on social theory from Karl Popper might seem to be the height of intellectual honesty. Featuring most prominently an admission of the limits of human understanding and knowledge, and the fallibility of even the most cherished ideas about the way the world works, Popper's theory of science and theory change, as well as his more directly relevant writings on politics and social thought (The Open Society and Its Enemies (2 vol.) and The Poverty of Historicism in particular) certainly offer to a budding social theorist the opportunity to make the case for the limits of any social theory, let alone the potential success or failure of the intellectual project of the social sciences.
While it is certainly true, as Jeffrey Bernstein makes explicit, that the salient feature of our social life is the complexity of contemporary social and political phenomena and the impossibility of grasping it in toto, he misconstrues Popper's (and natural scientist's generally) understanding of the structure and role of theory. Furthermore, and more explicitly in reference to the question of ignorance and self-governance, he ignores certain salient features of social and political life that even a non-professional recognizes. Most important, his insistence on his own understanding of what he calls "rational-choice theory" as operative in political decision-making is hardly very rigorous. It seems to me that these two points invalidate any idea that operational ignorance of what even Bernstein calls "trivia" (although ignorance of some more significant facets of our social life certainly give one pause) bears any relationship to questions of the success or failure of governance.
First, as to the question of Popper's fallibilism and the role of theory formation, it is important to remember that Popper was swimming against the rushing current of logical positivism when he offered the notion that scientific theories are not and can never be verified, but rather are only significant and operationally important to the extent that they have, as yet, to be falsified. In the limited case of the natural sciences, this theory offers a view of the openness of the scientific enterprise to the reality that even the best theories are no more than organizational structures for what we know so far.
It is important to remember a significant feature of Popper's approach to scientific theories that goes unmentioned by Bernstein (and, for that matter, by Popper in his writing on social and political philosophy). Theories, for Popper, are nothing more than a series of what he calls "basic statements", which are themselves nothing more than singular instances of facts. Again, we have to understand what Popper was doing here. In the first place, he was contrasting "basic statements" with the "protocol sentences" of the logical positivists. These latter were intended to be a logically coherent structure by which theories were operationally affective. Basic statements, on the other hand, were simply reports of experimental results; "facts" in this case were nothing more or less than points plotted on a graph. A series of basic statements related to one another operationally, i.e., because they consisted of reports from experiments on particular related phenomena, are what make up a theory. Precisely for this reason, then, one can understand how fallibilism worked for Popper; there would always be another experiment, another report, another basic statement to be added to a theory. The accumulation of factual data, over time, refined and more than occasionally falsified not just particular theories, but whole research programs (to borrow a phrase from Popper's colleague, Imre Lakatos).
On an epistemological level, theories, for Popper, were an attempt to end-run modernist objections to philosophical realism. In a collection of essays entitled Objective Knowledge, Popper pronounced himself a "realist", insofar as scientific theories were actual descriptions of the way the world really is constructed without reference to human agency. He went on, at one point, to posit the possibility of the accumulation, at some point, of enough basic statement to have the least chance of falsifying our understanding of the world. Be that as it may, this dedication to a certain kind of what can be called, for the moment, naive realism, raises as many questions as it solves (which is the way any important philosophical notion operates, I suppose).
His objection to much of social science, at least as was practiced at the time he was criticizing it, was the presence of explicit theories, announced by researchers beforehand, that governed the way data was not only interpreted, but gathered, delimited, organized, and thus organized as social theories. Yet he never understood that his own naive realism operated in much the same way in the natural sciences. Operating from either an explicit or implicit philosophical predisposition is not, by itself, the mark of a lack of intellectual integrity, nor should be thought to render irrelevant or incomprehensible or incoherent what results. Even the most naive positivist in the social sciences would hardly disagree that gathering and interpreting data, governed by the limits and rules of any social theory, hardly qualifies as either surprising or even a significant observation. Whether one is a dedicated Marxist, or Friedmanite, while this may determine which data may be considered important or unimportant for reasons of statistical comparison, it is the results of the statistical analysis that are important for understanding whether the issue at hand has in any way been clarified.
In other words, theories are no more than collections of data that are, themselves, governed by principles as to significance and importance.
Now, this relates to the question of ignorance and social and political life precisely because Bernstein ignores the structure of "theory" as put forth by Popper, as well as his own philosophical commitment to a kind of realism that dictated his own approach to how theories are to be understood. Fallibilism, while certainly clarifying the way the scientific enterprise operates in a way the positivism and its dedication to verification did not, is only part of a far larger whole, which includes a principled understanding of theories as really representing, in a philosophical sense, the way the world can be understood without any reference to human agency. Yet, on this very point there is a certain philosophical incoherence precisely because, as "statements", Popper admits that a "statement" can only be falsified by another statement. No experiment or observation can make false the statement, "All swans are white" (to use the example used by Lakatos in a long paper defending and clarifying Popper's fallibilism). In other words, Popper's claim of realism cannot be made coherent precisely because he understands a disjunction to exist between "the world" and our theorizing about the world.
Whether it is the phenomena of the physical sciences (Popper is relatively silent on biology, except to say that Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection isn't science, a point creationists have latched on to far too often), or social life, then, our understanding is always limited by our commitments to certain principles that dictate how we understand such things as "data", "significance", and how scientists go about their business of interpreting this stuff. Without a full report of Popper's fallibilism, Bernstein presents a truncated view of Popper's fallibilism that seems to indicate that Popper's objection to the social sciences is rooted in a principled grasp of the limit of human understanding. In fact, Popper's objection is that the social sciences are not philosophically and theoretically coherent; there are abundant approaches and definitions of what the social sciences are and how they should operate that are mutually exclusive. This meta-theoretical muddle creates the situation where there is no way, a priori, to judge whether or not this or that social researcher grasps the way his or her work is theory- and mistake-laden.
Now, as far as I know, there aren't too many practicing social and political scientists who would argue the contrary opinion, viz., that their findings approach the level of explanatory power of the physical sciences. Indeed, statistical significance in the social sciences is far lower than the physical sciences precisely because even the most broad theoretical understanding and statement about social behavior is understood to grasp and explain such a small part of our social life. To put this in far simpler terms, most practicing social scientists understand the complexity of our social and political life; even the most dedicated ideologue of one sort or another would insist on the explanatory limits of his or her pet theories (if he or she were intellectually honest).
All of this - the miscontrual of Popper's understanding of theory and the limiting case of the social sciences - is important to grasp precisely because Bernstein wants to argue, pace Popper, that the level of basic factual ignorance on matters of social and political significance preclude any kind of successful government action in a representative republic. Our institutions are laden with far too much information for any individual to grasp in any kind of totality; our mediating institutions are not up to the challenge of providing any kind of framework for understanding. Levels of either trivial or significant ignorance are too often apparent to be ignored by researchers. This should lead even the most dedicated proponent of the positive possibilities of state action to pause before insisting that our institutions can operate at even some minimal level of success, let alone efficiency, precisely because it is impossible to have all the information available to make these kinds of judgments with anything like scientific rigor.
This is wrong, pure and simple, because whatever a particular social scientist's theoretical predilections, he or she would certainly admit that we always operate from a limited, whether practical or theoretical, knowledge base. For me, the two national elections in 2006 and 2008, and the social change represented by public opinion surveys, are good test cases for an understanding of social phenomena that takes both trivial and significant ignorance in to account, while still showing that the public does, indeed, act in what it considers its own best interest.
In the aftermath of the terrorist attacks in 2001, the public rallied around Pres. Bush and continued to support his Administration, even as questions arose as to the factual basis, for instance, of his accusations of the collusion of the Iraqi government and those who planned and carried out the attacks on New York and Washington. In the face of those events, Bush's decision to act against those who had attacked the US, regardless at the time of their truth or falsity, gave the public the confidence that he was, in fact, acting to protect our most basic national interest.
He won re-election in 2004 precisely because he reminded the public over and over again that, in the face of a concerted effort to attack and kill Americans on their own soil, he had moved to retaliate in order to prevent similar events from occurring in the future. Then, in the fall of 2005, Hurricane Katrina roared across the Gulf of Mexico and destroyed much of the City of New Orleans as well as the marshy coasts of southern Louisiana and the tourist spots on the coast of the state of Mississippi. The Bush Administration's failure to act with both the resources and a sense of the significance of the devastation in this case caused his support among the American people to plummet precipitously, from which they never recovered. That members of his party in Congress supported this lack of action in the face of a natural disaster as destructive in its own way as the terror attacks four years previously caused support for them to crash as well.
In the wake of this, the Republicans lost control of Congress in 2006. While particular races in particular states were driven as much by local and state-wide concerns as anything, the general sense - without reference to particular points of fact or other issues that supporters of either party could point to - that the Republican Party had failed to act adequately to help the American people who faced destruction from natural forces indicated they were not the party to lead. This simple equation - failure to act means failure of leadership means the withdrawal of electoral support - is enough to account, for me, for the results of the 2006 mid-term elections. The on-going disfavor of the Bush Administration led to Pres. Obama's election in much the same way.
While close watchers of political events can certainly point to counter-factuals to this particular view of events, my own sense is that this explanation is at least as theoretically powerful as any other. More important, it does not rest on a prior commitment to a moral or intellectual dedication to issues of general social knowledge or ignorance. The folks who made this simple equation in their heads may or may not have been able to name the nine Supreme Court Justices, or the Secretary of Labor or Interior or the head of FEMA under President Bush. What they did grasp, however, was that, unlike after an attack by a terrorist group, a similarly destructive event was not met with the same kind of resolve, let alone commitment to resources. This failure is enough to account for the ill fortunes of the Republican Party the past four years.
Now, does this test case account in a more generalizable way, making the case that the amount of trivial or significant ignorance on the part of the American people is less relevant to the success or failure of representative democracy? I think it does precisely if one considers how the public view the role of certain actions of the state, as opposed to the details of public policy reviewed by analysts. Whether or not voters in Bend, OR or Pawtucket, RI know whether the fourth or fifth amendment to the US Constitution protects them from self-incrimination is less important than whether or not those voters understand that their elected officials have succeeded or not in the most basic function of any government - the protection from harm, and assistance when those protections break down (as they are wont to do).
Our representative institutions operate as they always have, with limited resources, including information. Insisting that this lack of information indicates some kind of practical limit to state action precisely because of the theoretical and practical ignorance is based on a faulty grasp of Popper's thought, as well as a reliance on a view of rational-choice theory that ignores other ways this may operate in regard to social and political action.
. . . and this is far longer than I intended. My apologies to your attention span.
The citizens of a modern democracy are trying to be well informed about social-science questions that confound even social-science professionals - because of the difficulty of using controlled experimentation to answer them. . . . When public-opinion researchers enumerate the shocking levels of factual ignorance displayed by members of the public, they are really catalouging the haphazard and often incoherent theorizing in which we, the people engage in our capacity as amateur social scientists.Jeffrey Bernstein
Taking one's cue on social theory from Karl Popper might seem to be the height of intellectual honesty. Featuring most prominently an admission of the limits of human understanding and knowledge, and the fallibility of even the most cherished ideas about the way the world works, Popper's theory of science and theory change, as well as his more directly relevant writings on politics and social thought (The Open Society and Its Enemies (2 vol.) and The Poverty of Historicism in particular) certainly offer to a budding social theorist the opportunity to make the case for the limits of any social theory, let alone the potential success or failure of the intellectual project of the social sciences.
While it is certainly true, as Jeffrey Bernstein makes explicit, that the salient feature of our social life is the complexity of contemporary social and political phenomena and the impossibility of grasping it in toto, he misconstrues Popper's (and natural scientist's generally) understanding of the structure and role of theory. Furthermore, and more explicitly in reference to the question of ignorance and self-governance, he ignores certain salient features of social and political life that even a non-professional recognizes. Most important, his insistence on his own understanding of what he calls "rational-choice theory" as operative in political decision-making is hardly very rigorous. It seems to me that these two points invalidate any idea that operational ignorance of what even Bernstein calls "trivia" (although ignorance of some more significant facets of our social life certainly give one pause) bears any relationship to questions of the success or failure of governance.
First, as to the question of Popper's fallibilism and the role of theory formation, it is important to remember that Popper was swimming against the rushing current of logical positivism when he offered the notion that scientific theories are not and can never be verified, but rather are only significant and operationally important to the extent that they have, as yet, to be falsified. In the limited case of the natural sciences, this theory offers a view of the openness of the scientific enterprise to the reality that even the best theories are no more than organizational structures for what we know so far.
It is important to remember a significant feature of Popper's approach to scientific theories that goes unmentioned by Bernstein (and, for that matter, by Popper in his writing on social and political philosophy). Theories, for Popper, are nothing more than a series of what he calls "basic statements", which are themselves nothing more than singular instances of facts. Again, we have to understand what Popper was doing here. In the first place, he was contrasting "basic statements" with the "protocol sentences" of the logical positivists. These latter were intended to be a logically coherent structure by which theories were operationally affective. Basic statements, on the other hand, were simply reports of experimental results; "facts" in this case were nothing more or less than points plotted on a graph. A series of basic statements related to one another operationally, i.e., because they consisted of reports from experiments on particular related phenomena, are what make up a theory. Precisely for this reason, then, one can understand how fallibilism worked for Popper; there would always be another experiment, another report, another basic statement to be added to a theory. The accumulation of factual data, over time, refined and more than occasionally falsified not just particular theories, but whole research programs (to borrow a phrase from Popper's colleague, Imre Lakatos).
On an epistemological level, theories, for Popper, were an attempt to end-run modernist objections to philosophical realism. In a collection of essays entitled Objective Knowledge, Popper pronounced himself a "realist", insofar as scientific theories were actual descriptions of the way the world really is constructed without reference to human agency. He went on, at one point, to posit the possibility of the accumulation, at some point, of enough basic statement to have the least chance of falsifying our understanding of the world. Be that as it may, this dedication to a certain kind of what can be called, for the moment, naive realism, raises as many questions as it solves (which is the way any important philosophical notion operates, I suppose).
His objection to much of social science, at least as was practiced at the time he was criticizing it, was the presence of explicit theories, announced by researchers beforehand, that governed the way data was not only interpreted, but gathered, delimited, organized, and thus organized as social theories. Yet he never understood that his own naive realism operated in much the same way in the natural sciences. Operating from either an explicit or implicit philosophical predisposition is not, by itself, the mark of a lack of intellectual integrity, nor should be thought to render irrelevant or incomprehensible or incoherent what results. Even the most naive positivist in the social sciences would hardly disagree that gathering and interpreting data, governed by the limits and rules of any social theory, hardly qualifies as either surprising or even a significant observation. Whether one is a dedicated Marxist, or Friedmanite, while this may determine which data may be considered important or unimportant for reasons of statistical comparison, it is the results of the statistical analysis that are important for understanding whether the issue at hand has in any way been clarified.
In other words, theories are no more than collections of data that are, themselves, governed by principles as to significance and importance.
Now, this relates to the question of ignorance and social and political life precisely because Bernstein ignores the structure of "theory" as put forth by Popper, as well as his own philosophical commitment to a kind of realism that dictated his own approach to how theories are to be understood. Fallibilism, while certainly clarifying the way the scientific enterprise operates in a way the positivism and its dedication to verification did not, is only part of a far larger whole, which includes a principled understanding of theories as really representing, in a philosophical sense, the way the world can be understood without any reference to human agency. Yet, on this very point there is a certain philosophical incoherence precisely because, as "statements", Popper admits that a "statement" can only be falsified by another statement. No experiment or observation can make false the statement, "All swans are white" (to use the example used by Lakatos in a long paper defending and clarifying Popper's fallibilism). In other words, Popper's claim of realism cannot be made coherent precisely because he understands a disjunction to exist between "the world" and our theorizing about the world.
Whether it is the phenomena of the physical sciences (Popper is relatively silent on biology, except to say that Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection isn't science, a point creationists have latched on to far too often), or social life, then, our understanding is always limited by our commitments to certain principles that dictate how we understand such things as "data", "significance", and how scientists go about their business of interpreting this stuff. Without a full report of Popper's fallibilism, Bernstein presents a truncated view of Popper's fallibilism that seems to indicate that Popper's objection to the social sciences is rooted in a principled grasp of the limit of human understanding. In fact, Popper's objection is that the social sciences are not philosophically and theoretically coherent; there are abundant approaches and definitions of what the social sciences are and how they should operate that are mutually exclusive. This meta-theoretical muddle creates the situation where there is no way, a priori, to judge whether or not this or that social researcher grasps the way his or her work is theory- and mistake-laden.
Now, as far as I know, there aren't too many practicing social and political scientists who would argue the contrary opinion, viz., that their findings approach the level of explanatory power of the physical sciences. Indeed, statistical significance in the social sciences is far lower than the physical sciences precisely because even the most broad theoretical understanding and statement about social behavior is understood to grasp and explain such a small part of our social life. To put this in far simpler terms, most practicing social scientists understand the complexity of our social and political life; even the most dedicated ideologue of one sort or another would insist on the explanatory limits of his or her pet theories (if he or she were intellectually honest).
All of this - the miscontrual of Popper's understanding of theory and the limiting case of the social sciences - is important to grasp precisely because Bernstein wants to argue, pace Popper, that the level of basic factual ignorance on matters of social and political significance preclude any kind of successful government action in a representative republic. Our institutions are laden with far too much information for any individual to grasp in any kind of totality; our mediating institutions are not up to the challenge of providing any kind of framework for understanding. Levels of either trivial or significant ignorance are too often apparent to be ignored by researchers. This should lead even the most dedicated proponent of the positive possibilities of state action to pause before insisting that our institutions can operate at even some minimal level of success, let alone efficiency, precisely because it is impossible to have all the information available to make these kinds of judgments with anything like scientific rigor.
This is wrong, pure and simple, because whatever a particular social scientist's theoretical predilections, he or she would certainly admit that we always operate from a limited, whether practical or theoretical, knowledge base. For me, the two national elections in 2006 and 2008, and the social change represented by public opinion surveys, are good test cases for an understanding of social phenomena that takes both trivial and significant ignorance in to account, while still showing that the public does, indeed, act in what it considers its own best interest.
In the aftermath of the terrorist attacks in 2001, the public rallied around Pres. Bush and continued to support his Administration, even as questions arose as to the factual basis, for instance, of his accusations of the collusion of the Iraqi government and those who planned and carried out the attacks on New York and Washington. In the face of those events, Bush's decision to act against those who had attacked the US, regardless at the time of their truth or falsity, gave the public the confidence that he was, in fact, acting to protect our most basic national interest.
He won re-election in 2004 precisely because he reminded the public over and over again that, in the face of a concerted effort to attack and kill Americans on their own soil, he had moved to retaliate in order to prevent similar events from occurring in the future. Then, in the fall of 2005, Hurricane Katrina roared across the Gulf of Mexico and destroyed much of the City of New Orleans as well as the marshy coasts of southern Louisiana and the tourist spots on the coast of the state of Mississippi. The Bush Administration's failure to act with both the resources and a sense of the significance of the devastation in this case caused his support among the American people to plummet precipitously, from which they never recovered. That members of his party in Congress supported this lack of action in the face of a natural disaster as destructive in its own way as the terror attacks four years previously caused support for them to crash as well.
In the wake of this, the Republicans lost control of Congress in 2006. While particular races in particular states were driven as much by local and state-wide concerns as anything, the general sense - without reference to particular points of fact or other issues that supporters of either party could point to - that the Republican Party had failed to act adequately to help the American people who faced destruction from natural forces indicated they were not the party to lead. This simple equation - failure to act means failure of leadership means the withdrawal of electoral support - is enough to account, for me, for the results of the 2006 mid-term elections. The on-going disfavor of the Bush Administration led to Pres. Obama's election in much the same way.
While close watchers of political events can certainly point to counter-factuals to this particular view of events, my own sense is that this explanation is at least as theoretically powerful as any other. More important, it does not rest on a prior commitment to a moral or intellectual dedication to issues of general social knowledge or ignorance. The folks who made this simple equation in their heads may or may not have been able to name the nine Supreme Court Justices, or the Secretary of Labor or Interior or the head of FEMA under President Bush. What they did grasp, however, was that, unlike after an attack by a terrorist group, a similarly destructive event was not met with the same kind of resolve, let alone commitment to resources. This failure is enough to account for the ill fortunes of the Republican Party the past four years.
Now, does this test case account in a more generalizable way, making the case that the amount of trivial or significant ignorance on the part of the American people is less relevant to the success or failure of representative democracy? I think it does precisely if one considers how the public view the role of certain actions of the state, as opposed to the details of public policy reviewed by analysts. Whether or not voters in Bend, OR or Pawtucket, RI know whether the fourth or fifth amendment to the US Constitution protects them from self-incrimination is less important than whether or not those voters understand that their elected officials have succeeded or not in the most basic function of any government - the protection from harm, and assistance when those protections break down (as they are wont to do).
Our representative institutions operate as they always have, with limited resources, including information. Insisting that this lack of information indicates some kind of practical limit to state action precisely because of the theoretical and practical ignorance is based on a faulty grasp of Popper's thought, as well as a reliance on a view of rational-choice theory that ignores other ways this may operate in regard to social and political action.
. . . and this is far longer than I intended. My apologies to your attention span.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Oh Those Pesky People Who Just Can't Be Governed
Synchronicity? Or perhaps a careful watch placed on the walls at any given moment? For whatever reason, there is a more-than-curious appearance of this seemingly off-the-cuff comment by Henry at Crooked Timber:
He goes on to give his opinion that, in fact, such talk really isn't going to rear its ugly head. Never mind that, just a few short years ago, Thomas Sowell, apropos of nothing in particular offered the opinion that a military dictatorship would be good for America. In any event, the question of "governability" or its lack is one that addresses itself from China and India to Africa to our own country. In the 1970's, one heard it about the city of New York as it faced fiscal collapse; one sees it in criticisms of the United States Senate and its odd tradition of necessary super-majorities to act on some pieces of legislation.
Lo and behold, the New York Review of Books features an article my Mark Lilla, entitled "The Tea Party Jacobins", which has this as a closing note:
Are technologies that eclipse previous institutions that governed civic life rendering large democratic practices impossible? Are nations as large and diverse as China, India, the United States, Nigeria, and others unable to manage their public affairs via emerging institutions? Is the insistence that the emergence of hostility to state action a sign of ungovernability correct? Or is it, perhaps, that our state actors, both personal and institutional, have not grasped the variety of changes through which we all have lived over the past two decades?
I lean toward the latter general explanation, but otherwise am more curious about responses to these questions from others than setting out my own views (for the moment).
First: ungovernability. Or, rather, “ungovernability.” Chris got a lot of flak in comments for suggesting that centrists and center-right people in the media were going to come out with suggestions that a bit of dictatorship might not be a bad idea.
He goes on to give his opinion that, in fact, such talk really isn't going to rear its ugly head. Never mind that, just a few short years ago, Thomas Sowell, apropos of nothing in particular offered the opinion that a military dictatorship would be good for America. In any event, the question of "governability" or its lack is one that addresses itself from China and India to Africa to our own country. In the 1970's, one heard it about the city of New York as it faced fiscal collapse; one sees it in criticisms of the United States Senate and its odd tradition of necessary super-majorities to act on some pieces of legislation.
Lo and behold, the New York Review of Books features an article my Mark Lilla, entitled "The Tea Party Jacobins", which has this as a closing note:
Representative democracy is a tricky system; it must first give citizens voice as individuals, and then echo their collective voice back to them in policies they approve of. That is getting harder today because the mediating ideas and institutions we have traditionally relied on to make this work are collapsing.
Are technologies that eclipse previous institutions that governed civic life rendering large democratic practices impossible? Are nations as large and diverse as China, India, the United States, Nigeria, and others unable to manage their public affairs via emerging institutions? Is the insistence that the emergence of hostility to state action a sign of ungovernability correct? Or is it, perhaps, that our state actors, both personal and institutional, have not grasped the variety of changes through which we all have lived over the past two decades?
I lean toward the latter general explanation, but otherwise am more curious about responses to these questions from others than setting out my own views (for the moment).
The Satan
The above image, a still from The Exorcist, has become iconic. It is this view of "evil" that, much more for worse rather than better, seems to pop in to people's brains when talk turns to the Prince of Darkness (whose angelic name, "Lucifer", means "Light Bearer"; no irony there . . .). For reasons that should be obvious, this kind of Classic-Comics nonsense doesn't impress me much; even the make-up, and the voice-over by an aged British character actress, is kind of campy.
Dealing with questions of evil are serious, life-and-death questions. Simply demanding a Biblical verse to support this or that position means nothing to me. As I have said on many occasions, one can use all sorts of verses, whole books even, from the Bible to support pretty much any theological position one wants. I would be far more impressed if my interlocutor - quite apart from calling me a moron - had expanded a bit more than citing the number of time the English word "Satan" had appeared in the Bible.
"The Satan" is actually a title (I do hope I'm not boring anyone with this business) and appears in the earliest-written bit of Biblical literature, the long poem Job as an advocate in the Divine Court. By the time of the Gospel's - as much as 1500 years later! - this title has morphed in to an interchangeable proper name, along with "the devil" and "Lucifer" to refer to the leader of a band of spiritual beings who sole purpose seems to be keeping people from living their lives according to God's will.
This, of course, explains nothing more than the literary function of a character in a story. Examining what this means for we who believe is certainly important; for one thing, it doesn't mean little girls puking split-pea soup on priests or masturbating with crucifixes. "Evil" is hardly captured by these images; even the most dedicated traditional Christian, shivering in his theater seat during the first run of The Exorcist would have to admit that, as an examination of the question of evil, both the book and film fall short in any number of ways.
Historian Jeffrey Burton Russell has done a four-part study of "diabology". Titled, in order, The Devil, Satan, Lucifer, and Mephistopheles, the study considers the emergence, growth, and development of the western understanding of evil, personified in the character of a supernatural being variously given these titles and names (I read the second for an undergraduate history seminar; I own the fourth, but look forward to getting all four, plus some other of his books). At the heart of these books, as Burton Russell makes clear in the preface of each, is his understanding of the reality of radical human evil, usually presented by a newspaper clipping of some horrendous event.
To me, addressing the question of evil by restating a two-thousand-year-old persona of ambiguous origin and traceable intellectual development across time, space, language, culture, even religion doesn't really mean all that much. Burton Russell's work shows that, even those in the West who take the Bible seriously and addressed the question of evil via an examination of the Devil and his minions changed radically over time. One can address the fact of evil without recourse to a supernatural being. Indeed, repeating "Satan" only restates the problem.
So, I guess I'm a moron because I find the problem of evil to be something to take seriously. While considering scriptural understanding of a particular supernatural entity is a good place to start, one needs to do so within the context of the larger theological structure one uses to interpret not just the Bible as a whole, but particular passages. Far too often, giving the name (or title; whichever . . .) "Satan" as an answer seems to preclude any thought or notion of the efficacy of Divine grace, the power of the death and resurrection in the life of the Church, and reduce human agency to not quite nothing.
This is why, for the most part, I just can't get behind the whole idea that Satan, or the Devil, or Lucifer, or whomever, rules legions of similarly fallen angels as the source of human misery. Sin? Salvation? Grace? Divine power? Once one falls back on some anti-God as the source of human misery, these notions become irrelevant.
Adult Conversation
Here's my question:
Here's the reply:
I'm so humiliated . . .
OK, not really.
"Is Mark suggesting that it is actually impossible to form a deep emotional bond with another person of the same gender in the same way, say, I have with my wife?"
Here's the reply:
I have a hard time imagining any woman could have a sexual desire for you, Geoffrey, but it's a strange world we live in. I suppose anything is possible.
I'm so humiliated . . .
OK, not really.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Concern-Trolling For The Sake Of Atheists
Kevin Drum's reply in an exchange on the social costs and benefits of atheism versus religion offers an interesting point-of-view, one encountered far too often on the Internet. While I have issues with the so-called "New Atheists", they are, for the most part, intellectual rather than "spiritual" or "religious". That is to say, I have no worries one way or another that they pose a danger to my own or any one else's faith (precisely because the big three - Dawkins, Harris, Hitchens - are all recycling the same arguments that atheists have been touting for centuries, adding in a kind of nonsensical, barely-veiled hostility that is kind of frightening).
When "defenders of the faith" read Drum, say, or some other person who offers the personal view that, not only does religion not play any part in his or her life, but this individual really feels nothing lacking because of it, for some reason they take to their keyboards to point out that there is, indeed, an ache, a hollow place in their lives they aren't even aware of. I might take issue with this or that point in a discussion with Drum on the net social benefits of Christianity in the west; I would never insist, however, that his life is hollow and meaningless without him even understanding it to be so.
Part of this stems from my own sense of the give-and-take on the Internet, and my own sense of my beliefs. As I have said on numerous occasions, I am not interested in arguing with people. I explain, to be sure, why I believe or live the way I do; I cannot for the life of me imagine anything I have to say is so convincing to others that they would immediately change their whole lives, shouting, "Yes! Yes!". If someone out there reads my words and thinks, "Hmmm . . .", that's enough for me. On the other hand, I'm not interested in apologetics or proselytizing. I figure if someone has no personal, psychological yearning for specific religious beliefs, that's their business, and it certainly isn't mine to show them how empty their lives are.
Which does not mean that my own participation in the larger life of faith is meaningless for me. On the contrary. I just take it for granted that, like everything from liking wax beans to modern art, religious belief is for some and not for others.
At the heart of so much Christian-concern-trolling when atheists explain themselves stems, I am convinced, from what theologian Jurgen Moltmann calls "a pusillanimous faith". Too cowardly to admit its own weaknesses, it compensates by being belligerent and triumphal. Me, I figure even if no one on planet earth or the rest of the Universe believed in God has no bearing whatsoever on whether or not God exists. Or has anything to do with salvation, or Divine Providence, or anything else. The human race will go the way of the dodo, the passenger pigeon, and about 100 species a day at some point, either through our own stupidity or the ravages of time and biology; that does not mean that God will cease to exist, that the death and resurrection of Jesus has no efficacy for the eternal Divine plan.
So, if Drum is living a happy, fulfilled life, who am I to insist there is a hollow place in his life where God should sit? As far as I'm concerned, God really isn't hurt by Drum's lack of belief, and Drum might just be living the life set out for him by God precisely as someone insouciant about religious belief in general, and for himself in particular. There are far more things to worry about than whether or not someone believes in God.
When "defenders of the faith" read Drum, say, or some other person who offers the personal view that, not only does religion not play any part in his or her life, but this individual really feels nothing lacking because of it, for some reason they take to their keyboards to point out that there is, indeed, an ache, a hollow place in their lives they aren't even aware of. I might take issue with this or that point in a discussion with Drum on the net social benefits of Christianity in the west; I would never insist, however, that his life is hollow and meaningless without him even understanding it to be so.
Part of this stems from my own sense of the give-and-take on the Internet, and my own sense of my beliefs. As I have said on numerous occasions, I am not interested in arguing with people. I explain, to be sure, why I believe or live the way I do; I cannot for the life of me imagine anything I have to say is so convincing to others that they would immediately change their whole lives, shouting, "Yes! Yes!". If someone out there reads my words and thinks, "Hmmm . . .", that's enough for me. On the other hand, I'm not interested in apologetics or proselytizing. I figure if someone has no personal, psychological yearning for specific religious beliefs, that's their business, and it certainly isn't mine to show them how empty their lives are.
Which does not mean that my own participation in the larger life of faith is meaningless for me. On the contrary. I just take it for granted that, like everything from liking wax beans to modern art, religious belief is for some and not for others.
At the heart of so much Christian-concern-trolling when atheists explain themselves stems, I am convinced, from what theologian Jurgen Moltmann calls "a pusillanimous faith". Too cowardly to admit its own weaknesses, it compensates by being belligerent and triumphal. Me, I figure even if no one on planet earth or the rest of the Universe believed in God has no bearing whatsoever on whether or not God exists. Or has anything to do with salvation, or Divine Providence, or anything else. The human race will go the way of the dodo, the passenger pigeon, and about 100 species a day at some point, either through our own stupidity or the ravages of time and biology; that does not mean that God will cease to exist, that the death and resurrection of Jesus has no efficacy for the eternal Divine plan.
So, if Drum is living a happy, fulfilled life, who am I to insist there is a hollow place in his life where God should sit? As far as I'm concerned, God really isn't hurt by Drum's lack of belief, and Drum might just be living the life set out for him by God precisely as someone insouciant about religious belief in general, and for himself in particular. There are far more things to worry about than whether or not someone believes in God.
"I'm Not Gay, But The Prostitute I Hired For My Vacation Is"
Even as the closet door has swung open, Rekers' crawls to a back corner and cowers.
That guy who went to Europe with him? Held his bag. The whole trip. I swear.
Come on, Rekers, come for me with a defamation suit.
"With the assistance of a defamation attorney, I will fight these false reports because I have not engaged in any homosexual behavior whatsoever. I am not gay and never have been."
That guy who went to Europe with him? Held his bag. The whole trip. I swear.
Come on, Rekers, come for me with a defamation suit.
Darwin's Law Passes In Virginia
So, McDonnell signed a bill in to law in the Commonwealth of Virginia allowing people to take loaded, concealed guns in bard. Back in the 90's, right after George Allen was elected governor, the legislature tried this and failed (it was part of an omnibus "gun rights" bill that would have also permitted loaded concealed weapons in Commonwealth courtrooms; the State Police opposed this provision and so the bill died). Tennessee, it seems, is about to traverse the same dark and bloody road.
Apparently, neither supporters nor opponents of this bill understand what is really behind all this. The Republicans and the NRA actually want to thin out their numbers, and this seems an expedient way to do it. After all, what better way to see Darwin's Theory in action than a bar full of drunk guys packing?
I have no beef, really, with an individual's right to carry a weapon. But specifically permitting individuals to carry a concealed weapon in to a bar - and, of course, these folks won't be drinking because they're law-abiding gun owners! - is a recipe for keeping coroners, the police, and funeral directors busy at the beginning of every week. My brother, who fancies himself a libertarian, tried to argue with me on this one back in the day, and I told him, knowing some of the folks who frequent various watering holes, nothing more deadly than plastic sporks should be allowed in their hands at any given time; in bars, even straws should be considered lethal weapons, and kept away from them after the third or fourth round.
In all seriousness for a moment, I have to wonder what these people are thinking. Were I a resident of the Commonwealth who worked in a bar, I would have already quit my job unless I was given a raise so I could buy body armor.
Apparently, neither supporters nor opponents of this bill understand what is really behind all this. The Republicans and the NRA actually want to thin out their numbers, and this seems an expedient way to do it. After all, what better way to see Darwin's Theory in action than a bar full of drunk guys packing?
I have no beef, really, with an individual's right to carry a weapon. But specifically permitting individuals to carry a concealed weapon in to a bar - and, of course, these folks won't be drinking because they're law-abiding gun owners! - is a recipe for keeping coroners, the police, and funeral directors busy at the beginning of every week. My brother, who fancies himself a libertarian, tried to argue with me on this one back in the day, and I told him, knowing some of the folks who frequent various watering holes, nothing more deadly than plastic sporks should be allowed in their hands at any given time; in bars, even straws should be considered lethal weapons, and kept away from them after the third or fourth round.
In all seriousness for a moment, I have to wonder what these people are thinking. Were I a resident of the Commonwealth who worked in a bar, I would have already quit my job unless I was given a raise so I could buy body armor.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Stupid Democrats, Yet Again
I have no opinion on the nomination of Solicitor General Elena Kagan to be on the Supreme Court. She is the President's choice, and I'm guessing this was done with more thought than, say, John McCain putting Joe the Plumber in to our national consciousness. Tbogg kind of has the same vibe I do.
The idea that Barack Obama would (a) nominate Robert Bork in drag; (b) is no better, indeed worse, than George W. Bush; (c) our entire country is going down the toilet not because of the may years of "creative destruction" we suffered under Republican Congresses and George W. Bush but because Pres. Obama didn't wave his magic wand and make it all better immediately, related as they are in the inevitable disappointments that come when our "heroes" are revealed to be less than Divinely gifted, has led many on the left to as complete a break with reality as those on the right.
Now, this is not to say there are not good arguments against Solicitor General Kagan sitting on the Supreme Court. It is only to insist that far too much anti-Obama nuttiness on the left is as agnotological as that on the right. While I am sympathetic with atrios' view of the matter generally, in this case the rhetoric is, quite simply, quite outside the bounds of reason and evidence.
I should add that, since I have no view at present, should serious evidence arise that she is unfit to sit on the Court, I will accept that. I guess all I'm suggesting is that people need to breathe a bit.
Obama came into office promising change and people clutched that to their breasts and ran off in every direction thinking that their pet liberal/progressive cause finally had a champion who would make everything all better overnight. But sometimes change is gradual and, now sixteen months later, he is unacceptable. Quite frankly the country Obama inherited is a fucking mess and, while I’m not entirely thrilled with everything that has gone down under him, I’m willing to cut him some slack.
So, have a little faith. This is not the end of the world. Pick your battles wisely and, seriously: chill the fuck out.
The idea that Barack Obama would (a) nominate Robert Bork in drag; (b) is no better, indeed worse, than George W. Bush; (c) our entire country is going down the toilet not because of the may years of "creative destruction" we suffered under Republican Congresses and George W. Bush but because Pres. Obama didn't wave his magic wand and make it all better immediately, related as they are in the inevitable disappointments that come when our "heroes" are revealed to be less than Divinely gifted, has led many on the left to as complete a break with reality as those on the right.
Now, this is not to say there are not good arguments against Solicitor General Kagan sitting on the Supreme Court. It is only to insist that far too much anti-Obama nuttiness on the left is as agnotological as that on the right. While I am sympathetic with atrios' view of the matter generally, in this case the rhetoric is, quite simply, quite outside the bounds of reason and evidence.
I should add that, since I have no view at present, should serious evidence arise that she is unfit to sit on the Court, I will accept that. I guess all I'm suggesting is that people need to breathe a bit.
It's Not Me, But Christ In Me
This phrase of St. Paul's, by which he made his readers understand that any success he had as a missionary was due not to any alleged gifts, talents, or good deeds of his but rather to the presence of the Spirit of Christ alive in him has become a kind of template for understanding how we as Christians are to perceive ourselves and be perceived by others. In that Spirit, then, with a generous h/t to The Church of Jesus Christ, let us, first, visit a site called Tea Party Jesus.
Surprise, surprise, the words of Christians in the mouth of Jesus aren't safe for work!
And what would our contemporary American Jesus be if he wasn't hating on fags?
Get the flavor? For what it's worth, I like the site. It's a nice little judgment upon all of us, I guess.
Now, can we do this with some folks a little closer to home? I think so . . .
Surprise, surprise, the words of Christians in the mouth of Jesus aren't safe for work!
And what would our contemporary American Jesus be if he wasn't hating on fags?
Get the flavor? For what it's worth, I like the site. It's a nice little judgment upon all of us, I guess.
Now, can we do this with some folks a little closer to home? I think so . . .
Gotta Be A Teen To Read This Blog
Created by OnePlusYou - Free Dating Sites
Here I thought the occasional f-bomb would nab me an "R" at the very least. Oh well.
The whole "Free Dating Sites" thing is just an ad. Can skip right through it.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Love, Romance, And Other Disputed Territory
This is an attempt to respond to criticisms of my initial response here.
I guess I should begin by saying that love is, at its root, the most powerful most dangerous, most constructive, most destructive force in human life. It is also the most mysterious. Who among us can really understand it, define it, even delimit it?
I would add that I believe love is not a thing in and of and for itself. It is, rather, a process. One can fall in love - the hormones and pheromones and even sun and moon and sun can line up just so between two people - and out of love - God, does she have to do that again? I hate it when she does that - quite easily. Really loving another human being, letting that other person in to one's life, making room for the possibility of personal transcendence, is something that takes time, involves huge risks, and offers the possibility of learning how to be more than what one could ever be on one's own.
In that regard, I believe love to be, at its heart, not an emotion, but the mutually active give and take between two persons wholly surrendering their individuality toward the final goal of becoming something more. As the quote from McCullers seems to indicate, love is not something between an active lover and a passive beloved. That process I tend to think of more as infatuation; one makes of another human subject an object of one's private feeling and emotive actions. That this object may not have any of the qualities assigned to it by the subject is beside the point. We imbue objects with whatever wish-fulfillment we have at any given time. Over time, however, we may discover how short the object falls from our ideal; no individual can possibly carry the weight of another's desire to be something he or she is not. Disappointment leads to rejection.
Allow me an example from my own life. In the fall of 1991, I met and started dating a lovely woman, funny, smart, talented, gifted, gentle, passionate. I found myself, quite beyond any power I possessed, falling in love with her. I opened myself to her completely, utterly. When we broke up just a few months later, I was devastated. In discussing the issue with some mutual friends, one made the observation that this woman was, as the phrase has it "in love with love". I thought about that and realized that, while she may indeed have felt deeply for me, she was even more interested in that state of sublime, intense passion, that connection between two people. She could break off our relationship when she determined that I had failed to live up to her understanding of what was involved. Had I failed her as a lover, or as a beloved? As a lover, no more so than most human beings fail others in relationships. As a beloved, however, that passive recipient of another's subjective desires, I had failed so deeply that there could be no repairing the damage.
After seventeen years of marriage, I have learned that one doesn't really understand what love is. I can say with some confidence what is not. It isn't sex - a person can do that with anyone. It isn't the yearning after another in the quiet of one's heart and mind. It isn't even, in the end, about happiness. It is, when all is said and done, something one learns to do, always imperfectly, but always with an eye on the goal of mutuality in surrender. One takes the other's surrender with the understanding that, in so doing, one is also trusting that other to accept one's own.
I might also add that, disdaining love as an emotion, preferring it to refer to something lived between two people, the issue of "unrequited love" seems to me to denote something akin to Wittgenstein's "private language". I may hold an infatuation in my heart for another individual. I may express that infatuation, only to have it rejected. This isn't "love", any more than me attempting to communicate to another individual in a language that exists solely in my head is actually communication.
I am not disparaging love, I think. I am only saying that it is a real, existing, living thing between two people. Other kinds of romantic attachments, feelings, even acts - even marriage - are not love. I also don't think I am describing some unattainable goal. Perhaps I was a bit too curt in using the phrase "romantic claptrap", but I hope I have at least made my position a little less unclear.
I guess I should begin by saying that love is, at its root, the most powerful most dangerous, most constructive, most destructive force in human life. It is also the most mysterious. Who among us can really understand it, define it, even delimit it?
I would add that I believe love is not a thing in and of and for itself. It is, rather, a process. One can fall in love - the hormones and pheromones and even sun and moon and sun can line up just so between two people - and out of love - God, does she have to do that again? I hate it when she does that - quite easily. Really loving another human being, letting that other person in to one's life, making room for the possibility of personal transcendence, is something that takes time, involves huge risks, and offers the possibility of learning how to be more than what one could ever be on one's own.
In that regard, I believe love to be, at its heart, not an emotion, but the mutually active give and take between two persons wholly surrendering their individuality toward the final goal of becoming something more. As the quote from McCullers seems to indicate, love is not something between an active lover and a passive beloved. That process I tend to think of more as infatuation; one makes of another human subject an object of one's private feeling and emotive actions. That this object may not have any of the qualities assigned to it by the subject is beside the point. We imbue objects with whatever wish-fulfillment we have at any given time. Over time, however, we may discover how short the object falls from our ideal; no individual can possibly carry the weight of another's desire to be something he or she is not. Disappointment leads to rejection.
Allow me an example from my own life. In the fall of 1991, I met and started dating a lovely woman, funny, smart, talented, gifted, gentle, passionate. I found myself, quite beyond any power I possessed, falling in love with her. I opened myself to her completely, utterly. When we broke up just a few months later, I was devastated. In discussing the issue with some mutual friends, one made the observation that this woman was, as the phrase has it "in love with love". I thought about that and realized that, while she may indeed have felt deeply for me, she was even more interested in that state of sublime, intense passion, that connection between two people. She could break off our relationship when she determined that I had failed to live up to her understanding of what was involved. Had I failed her as a lover, or as a beloved? As a lover, no more so than most human beings fail others in relationships. As a beloved, however, that passive recipient of another's subjective desires, I had failed so deeply that there could be no repairing the damage.
After seventeen years of marriage, I have learned that one doesn't really understand what love is. I can say with some confidence what is not. It isn't sex - a person can do that with anyone. It isn't the yearning after another in the quiet of one's heart and mind. It isn't even, in the end, about happiness. It is, when all is said and done, something one learns to do, always imperfectly, but always with an eye on the goal of mutuality in surrender. One takes the other's surrender with the understanding that, in so doing, one is also trusting that other to accept one's own.
I might also add that, disdaining love as an emotion, preferring it to refer to something lived between two people, the issue of "unrequited love" seems to me to denote something akin to Wittgenstein's "private language". I may hold an infatuation in my heart for another individual. I may express that infatuation, only to have it rejected. This isn't "love", any more than me attempting to communicate to another individual in a language that exists solely in my head is actually communication.
I am not disparaging love, I think. I am only saying that it is a real, existing, living thing between two people. Other kinds of romantic attachments, feelings, even acts - even marriage - are not love. I also don't think I am describing some unattainable goal. Perhaps I was a bit too curt in using the phrase "romantic claptrap", but I hope I have at least made my position a little less unclear.
Music For Your Monday
My father says he saw her in Manhattan in the early 1940's. Maybe. She was around, to be sure. Whether true or not, there is no doubt that Lena Horne, who passed away at 92, had a long, varied career. While not a pure jazz performer like Billie Holliday or Ella Fitzgerald, she could sing jazz. What she did best, though, was add some soul to the lifeless, white pop music Tin Pan Alley poured out its windows and doors. Her signature song, "Stormy Weather", was performed by many, done best by Lady Day (of course), but is certainly memorable.
Here she is doing a Rogers & Hart standard, "Where or When".
Finally, Ms. Horne refused to be limited to music from the 1940's. Here she is doing the late Jim Croce's "I Got A Name", making the song her own.
Here she is doing a Rogers & Hart standard, "Where or When".
Finally, Ms. Horne refused to be limited to music from the 1940's. Here she is doing the late Jim Croce's "I Got A Name", making the song her own.
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Thought-Provoking
This interview with James Baldwin (.pdf), originally in The Paris Review of 1984, is a marvelous discussion. As with everything Baldwin writes or says, this reader is left in awe. At the same time, is it false humility, real humility, or ignorance when Baldwin says the following in answer to a question about his status as a "prophetic writer"?
Seems to me this is a marvelous distillation of what it means to be prophetic.
Anyway, I highly recommend the whole interview.
I don't try to be prophetic, as I don't try to sit down to write literature. It is simply this: a writer has to take all the risks of putting down what he sees. No one can tell him about that. No one can control that reality.
Seems to me this is a marvelous distillation of what it means to be prophetic.
Anyway, I highly recommend the whole interview.
Religious Freedom
Created during the heady years of Republican control of Congress the US Commission for International Freedom issued a report his week critical of what it called the Obama Administration's failure to aggressively pursue religious freedom. Citing everything from Chinese violence against any expression of religious belief to the hyper-Islamism of Iran and Saudi Arabia, the report said that, in regards to religious freedom, the Obama Administration's foreign policy "misses the mark".
One wonders what, exactly, any American administration can to do to effect change in another nation's domestic policy. Considering the heinous regimes the US has supported in the past, and continues to support in the present, whether it is Banana Republics in Central America who killed nuns, South American fascists in the Condor countries the regularly killed and disappeared politically active religious folks, or our current refusal to engage the Saudis, Iraqis, Israelis, or others on religion-based discrimination and violence it seems to me that religious freedom is now, as it has always been, a very low priority for American diplomacy.
It was used, albeit not very effectively, during the Cold War against the Soviet Union. Whether it was the Soviet imposition of "leaders" or monitoring of dissident, unregistered congregations, or the right of Soviet Jews to emigrate to Israel (dealt with by the still-in-place Jackson/Vannick Amendment), conservatives consider "religious freedom" without reference to anything other than itself, and its existence as a "right" in western political thought. Since (most) systems and hierarchies of religious belief, once regularized and bureaucratized, become exclusivist in practice - I say "most" because, for example, if Friends, say, or Baha'i (mentioned in the report because of their repression in Iran) ever controlled government I doubt we would see Quaker thugs roaming the streets beating people who wanted to do violence - it seems to me that promoting "religious freedom" without regard to secularization of the state, legal tolerance of religious minorities, and other civil and human rights, from freedom of speech and assembly, to freedom from state police power such as those in the Fourth, Fifth, and Eighth Amendments to the US Constitution are really quite meaningless.
Furthermore, as a Christian, it seems to me that we are forgetting something central to our own identity. The first three centuries of the Church's existence, forgotten in the past 1700 years of de jure or de facto Constantinianism (in its Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox varieties), was one of existence as an outlaw faith. The earliest recorded persecution of Christians, while noted as a necessary action against certain groups of Jews in Rome, occurred within a generation of the death of Jesus, in Rome, under the Emperor Nero. By the time St. Augustine was on the scene as Bishop of Hippo in North Africa, the last extended persecution of Christians occurred - and it was, to borrow the language of biology, nearly an extinction event. Christians were tortured, bribed, informants planted, whole congregations were slaughtered or used for sport in the arena.
And Jesus said, in the Sermon on the Mount, this would happen. And we are to rejoice in it. These now-silent witnesses to the reality of faith in human life, individual and communal, should be demanding an answer to an important question: Are our lives, and our deaths, in vain, if now Christians impose their will by force, either legal or military?
While it certainly seems in keeping with our most cherished social and civic traditions to promote religious freedom, in practice, one has to wonder why this is a priority and how it can possibly be accomplished. For example, in reference to China, the overwhelming basis for our relations, strained as they are, is commercial. What possible leverage is there for the US to push for reforms of the Chinese authoritarians when we buy billions of dollars of goods they produce? How can we effect change in Saudi Arabia when they have in abundance the single most important commodity we need to continue to operate? With the exception of Iraq, which the US has effectively ruled since the collapse of Sadaam Hussein's government in 2003, and its deChristianization, the US has little to no power to change the internal policies of any country. The incentive to do so, apart from the legal mandate in the Congressional Act that created the Commission on International Religious Freedom, is almost nonexistent.
I have to wonder what the Obama Administration could do, with any amount of seriousness or vigor, to change the verdict of the panel. I have to wonder, also, why Christians here aren't rejoicing more in the sufferings of our fellows in the faith as a witness to the power of the Gospel.
One wonders what, exactly, any American administration can to do to effect change in another nation's domestic policy. Considering the heinous regimes the US has supported in the past, and continues to support in the present, whether it is Banana Republics in Central America who killed nuns, South American fascists in the Condor countries the regularly killed and disappeared politically active religious folks, or our current refusal to engage the Saudis, Iraqis, Israelis, or others on religion-based discrimination and violence it seems to me that religious freedom is now, as it has always been, a very low priority for American diplomacy.
It was used, albeit not very effectively, during the Cold War against the Soviet Union. Whether it was the Soviet imposition of "leaders" or monitoring of dissident, unregistered congregations, or the right of Soviet Jews to emigrate to Israel (dealt with by the still-in-place Jackson/Vannick Amendment), conservatives consider "religious freedom" without reference to anything other than itself, and its existence as a "right" in western political thought. Since (most) systems and hierarchies of religious belief, once regularized and bureaucratized, become exclusivist in practice - I say "most" because, for example, if Friends, say, or Baha'i (mentioned in the report because of their repression in Iran) ever controlled government I doubt we would see Quaker thugs roaming the streets beating people who wanted to do violence - it seems to me that promoting "religious freedom" without regard to secularization of the state, legal tolerance of religious minorities, and other civil and human rights, from freedom of speech and assembly, to freedom from state police power such as those in the Fourth, Fifth, and Eighth Amendments to the US Constitution are really quite meaningless.
Furthermore, as a Christian, it seems to me that we are forgetting something central to our own identity. The first three centuries of the Church's existence, forgotten in the past 1700 years of de jure or de facto Constantinianism (in its Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox varieties), was one of existence as an outlaw faith. The earliest recorded persecution of Christians, while noted as a necessary action against certain groups of Jews in Rome, occurred within a generation of the death of Jesus, in Rome, under the Emperor Nero. By the time St. Augustine was on the scene as Bishop of Hippo in North Africa, the last extended persecution of Christians occurred - and it was, to borrow the language of biology, nearly an extinction event. Christians were tortured, bribed, informants planted, whole congregations were slaughtered or used for sport in the arena.
And Jesus said, in the Sermon on the Mount, this would happen. And we are to rejoice in it. These now-silent witnesses to the reality of faith in human life, individual and communal, should be demanding an answer to an important question: Are our lives, and our deaths, in vain, if now Christians impose their will by force, either legal or military?
While it certainly seems in keeping with our most cherished social and civic traditions to promote religious freedom, in practice, one has to wonder why this is a priority and how it can possibly be accomplished. For example, in reference to China, the overwhelming basis for our relations, strained as they are, is commercial. What possible leverage is there for the US to push for reforms of the Chinese authoritarians when we buy billions of dollars of goods they produce? How can we effect change in Saudi Arabia when they have in abundance the single most important commodity we need to continue to operate? With the exception of Iraq, which the US has effectively ruled since the collapse of Sadaam Hussein's government in 2003, and its deChristianization, the US has little to no power to change the internal policies of any country. The incentive to do so, apart from the legal mandate in the Congressional Act that created the Commission on International Religious Freedom, is almost nonexistent.
I have to wonder what the Obama Administration could do, with any amount of seriousness or vigor, to change the verdict of the panel. I have to wonder, also, why Christians here aren't rejoicing more in the sufferings of our fellows in the faith as a witness to the power of the Gospel.
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