Santayana and the Tea-Partiers

I just completed Santayana's Character and Opinion in the United States, and was struck by what he writes regarding liberty in the final essay of that book.  He was comparing what he calls "English liberty" favorably with other conceptions of liberty, and those "other conceptions" seem disturbingly familiar in these disturbing times.

Conceptions of liberty, like most things, may be reasonable or unreasonable.  Reasonable conceptions of liberty, according to Santayana as I understand him, acknowledge limitations to liberty, because it is necessary to do so to achieve anything resembling harmony in our affairs.  X's liberty may infringe on that of Y; it may be necessary to restrict liberty in some cases to foster the common good; we shouldn't have the liberty to trample upon others, much as we may wish to do so, merely because we may do so, still less because we think we should do so.  "English liberty" which was largely the conception of liberty acknowledged by those we insist on calling the Founders of this glorious Republic, and the political system they put in place is therefore one which operates as a series of "checks and balances" on power as we were all taught, or perhaps simply told, in the happy days of our youth.

Conceptions of liberty which maintain that we all should be free to do whatever we like are unreasonable.  Too often, those who maintain this view actually mean that they should be free to do whatever they like.  It is a conception of liberty which seems essentially (and inevitably) selfish.  Santayana notes that it is often a highly romantic view, having its basis not only in self-love but in the belief that we are entitled to unlimited freedom because this is required for us to achieve some goal set either by some God or ourselves in some personal quest for glory or renown, or because this is a kind of birthright we have merely by being humans (or better humans than others).  It is the conception of liberty peculiar to the martyr, the madman and the criminal according to Santayana.

This conception of liberty seems to have taken hold of some of us.  I confess to having libertarian leanings, but the tendency of some to object to almost all government action of any kind and to object to it because it infringes on our self-proclaimed sacred liberty is a matter of concern.  It is, first, unrealistic.  Any thinking person in these times must know that his/her liberty is necessarily restricted, and that he/she wants the liberty of others to be restricted.  It is hypocritical.  If something bad happens to one holding this conception of liberty, it may reasonably be expected that they will be shrieking that the government should be doing something about it.

It seems to have its basis in a romantically nostalgic view of a past which likely never existed.  The cowboy, a kind of 19th century migrant-worker, probably didn't celebrate his freedom much.  His life was likely a Hobbesian one, nasty, brutish and short.  The very wealthy and well-off doubtless had pretty much their way with everyone else in the past; it's not that long ago that the robber-barons did whatever they pleased, and if we but think a bit it will occur to us that most of us would not have been then, and are not now, in a position to do whatever we please, and that we'd rather not see others doing as they pleased.

Limitations on government (and especially government spending) are desirable.  But the current anti-government movement is too often infantile and short-sighted.  Those limitations should be intelligent limitations.  The fact is that most of those on our hectic political stage are not seeking limitations in any intelligent sense.  They are as beholden to special interests and certain government programs as any other politicians.  If they are brave enough to support cuts in spending, they will not do so with respect to that spending those who support them consider to be their bread and butter.

Reasonableness and the Sacred Chickens

One of my favorite stories of the ancient Romans involves Publius Claudius Pulcher and some sacred chickens.  Pulcher was a consul during the First Punic War and commanding a fleet sent to take a Carthaginian port.  Romans were especially superstitious where the sea was concerned, but it was in any case not unusual for the sacred chickens to be consulted before a battle.  They would be fed grain.  If they ate it, the battle would be won; if they declined to eat, the battle would be lost.  In this case, the chickens were duly released and the grain displayed before them.  They were not interested.  Pulcher was told the sacred chickens wouldn't eat.  "Then" he responded, "let us see if they will drink" and had them thrown into the water.

Drinking (and drowning) was no substitute for eating, though, and the Romans lost the sea battle.  But I've been an admirer of Pulcher ever since I read this story.

In some ways, we remain as superstitious as we were some 2300 years ago.  There are moments when we recognize just how silly it is to be irrational in this fashion, and react much as Pulcher did when it suits us to do so.  Thereafter, we may not be as superstitious in the future, or we may conclude that whatever God or Fate we appealed to so unsuccessfully had reasons for disappointing us (which we need not understand), and keep on feeding the damn chickens.

This kind of stupidity on our part is not limited to religious beliefs or lesser rituals devoted to what we call "luck."  We see it whenever we strongly feel that something is or should be the case, or want something so badly that we're unwilling to make a reasonable assessment of whether it can be obtained, and act accordingly.  We see it quite often these days in our political and cultural disputes.

The Pontifex Maximus (as I like to call him) is currently visiting the United Kingdom (or maybe he left already--it doesn't matter).  Unsurprisingly, he is calling for a resurgence of religious belief, which he feels is somehow the cause of, or at least connected to, virtuous conduct in life and especially in government.  Other, and of course necessarily lesser, religious leaders have joined him in urging us "back" into the fold.  Many of us honestly seem to feel that if only we start worshiping some God in some fashion things will get better.  Just which God is to be worshipped and how that is done vary from place to place, person to person.

I happen to think virtuous conduct is desirable, and of course that we should be more virtuous.  However, I don't think we can achieve this by further resort to the kinds of Gods and religions we've been more or less (generally less) devoted to for a very, very long time.  In other words, I doubt that further recourse to the sacred chickens of our time will be useful.

We must face the fact that we've been down this path many times before, and achieved nothing.  There is no reason to believe that returning to the path will do us any more good than it has done in the past.  Invariably, no matter how much we claim that we are required by some God to do certain things, or that failing to do those things will result in our doom, we don't do them with any frequency or regularity.  I think this is in large part due to the fact that we aren't inclined to, for example, be virtuous, merely because we think some God wants us to be or requires us to be.  We're inclined to act in certain ways when we see some practical benefit result from the act.

Practical benefit results, over the long term, from thinking; from a reasonable assessment of the circumstances in the context of what is to be done to achieve a desirable outcome.  Long term benefit won't be achieved, however, by focusing on the achievement of purely personal desires.  The world is far too complicated and crowded now, in any case, to go it alone.  From a purely practical standpoint if for no other reason, we're required to acknowledge the existence of others, and their desires.

The traditional religions discourage thought; they especially discourage the application of thought to improving ourselves and our circumstances.  This isn't to say that they are utterly bad or that they have contributed nothing of value.  Often, they laud good conduct, but they do so for reasons which are ultimately unconvincing or which draw our attention to some hypothetical other existence or place.  Some devoutly religious people have been very good people, but the nature of their devotion has rendered them unique--they're few and far between, as is said.  We must turn to a religion, or morality, which emphasizes our betterment for different reasons.

O tempora! O mores!

Cicero must have been something to see, once he got going.  By all accounts he was quite adept at words as a Senator and as a lawyer; as Consul as well, of course.  Thoughtfully, he saw to it that his words were preserved for our benefit.  He may be said to have dug his own grave with them, at least as far as Anthony was concerned.  But I doubt Cicero himself would have the words needed to adequately describe our times, our manners.

We have words, and we say and write them with particular urgency these days, it seems.  For good or ill, we all have the tools needed to do so now on what can be called a world stage.  By posting this, I participate in the clamor.  Perhaps I am as guilty as anyone else of the seemingly pathological narcissism we may all indulge in courtesy of this great democratic tool, or highway, as I think the Supreme Court once called it when striking down some attempt to restrict the Internet is some manner, no doubt related to sex.

It is a remarkable tool, and like all our tools may be used wisely or unwisely.  I won't romanticize it or our other technology, nor will I weep at its results.  But I think it may fairly be said that it is one of the results of our technology that our worst and our best are immediately known, to all who need but look (and sometimes have no need to do so).  Unfortunately, our worst is far more prevalent than our best.  And now it is ubiquitous.

A tiny group of--somethings--decides to burn the holy book of millions around the world for reasons which are at best unclear, and all must know of it.  The antics of this curious little congregation actually put people in danger.  To some extent, they do so because there are those who are equally bizarre in their beliefs, and maintain that burning the book or even threatening to do so is not merely stupid, but profoundly sinful and just cause for violence.  In other respects, though, we allow them to do so, and even encourage their efforts.  We do that by paying attention to them, and by treating them as in some sense significant.  It's likely that in no other time in history have so few been allowed to wreck such havoc so instantly. 

The stoics were right, I think, in pointing out that it is not the acts, words or thoughts of others that cause us distress, but rather our judgment of them.    We live in a time where virtually everyone has the capacity (with the assistance of the frenetic media denizens, pundits, politicians and preachers who infest our society) to foist themselves and their often mindless beliefs on us at all times.  If we hope to go through life unmanipulated, thoughtful and tranquil, we must learn to disregard this intrusion in our lives when it is clear that it can only result in distress to us and others if given any serious consideration.  This can be done, and extraordinary effort isn't required.

Everybody (in certain cases) Must Get Stoned

It's difficult to believe that even in these highly irrational times there is a need for people and even sovereign nations or institutions like the Vatican to condemn stoning.  The need exists, of course, because people and even sovereign nations (one in particular) believe we must, under certain circumstances, be stoned.  That is also difficult to believe.

It can be argued, of course, that those people or nations who feel the death penalty is applicable in certain cases have no business condemning the manner in which that penalty is imposed.  But the counter-argument that the death penalty should be applied only in cases of extreme misconduct (which does not include adultery), and when applied should not be carried out in such a manner as to assure the process is particularly painful and drawn out, seems an effective riposte--for those committed to the death penalty, in any case. 

The practice of stoning seems to be one developed if not popularized during the Bronze Age, where we humans for various reasons developed certain practices and beliefs which plague us to this day.  I know too little of Islam or, if you wish, extreme versions of it, to state whether it is believed in this case that stoning is one of those punishments claimed to have been cheerfully imposed by the Deity.  I know stoning was practiced by the ancient Jews, if the Bible is any guide; we all know that it was suggested that he who is without sin should throw the first stone.  It is possible that stoning is not the cruelest death ever devised by our clever species.  The Romans crucified, and it's difficult to imagine a worse death.  Still, stoning may be the cruelest of deaths being imposed by the righteous these days.

I haven't heard of anyone taking the position of the cultural relativists in this debate.  But surely there must be someone, perhaps some academic or student of an academic, somewhere, who would if pressed assert that this is one of those customs which we cannot judge as right or wrong, being irretrievably guided by prejudices imposed on us for which there is no real justification (there being, of course, no such thing as justification in any real sense--not that anything is real). 

This kind of response just doesn't sit well, though.  I feel it doesn't because there are certain things which we find repulsive when we are thinking.  That is to say, when we are not in a state where it is believed that thinking is improper for some reason--because, e.g., God has done that already and come to certain absolute conclusions which cannot be questioned but must simply be imposed.  When we question, we think.  When we think, we wonder whether something is fair or appropriate.  We may even wonder whether God would want someone stoned or burned.

This is the kind of thing which makes me wonder whether the "New Atheists" as they are called are right, and religion is something to be condemned and eradicated.  But that would be to accept an absolute conclusion as well; that one cannot be religious and thoughtful.  And it seems apparent that there have been those who were "religious" and still thought, and having thought could not accept that there is some implacable Deity which requires that we be cruel to one another in certain circumstances.  Some of these people are still around today, and they are not to be scorned.