People with Guns Demand More People with Guns to Stop People with Guns

The impassioned plea by a representative of the National Rifle (Manufacturers?) Association for putting armed guards in schools everywhere provokes thought even if it is, literally, thoughtless.  Thus this post.

Given the choice, I would rather have specially trained armed guards patrolling our schools and not teachers or administrators or whomever who have simply done the minimum necessary to obtain a permit in this Glorious Republic.  That minimum is nominal indeed.  And since even law enforcement officers have been known to shoot innocent but unfortunate bystanders in their quest to shoot their armed opponents, the thought of those who are not professionals attempting this difficult and dangerous task is not a comforting one. 

It's odd that a group which is so opposed to the intrusion of government in our lives, at least to the extent they may be affected by guns, is eager to promote a plan by which officers of the government would be placed in all schools.  One would think this to be a rather significant increase in government regulation.  The resulting bureaucracy would be most impressive.  But because money would be required to implement this plan and it is difficult and unpopular to give the government money or allow it to raise money these days, I suspect that nonprofessionals or, at best, private security guards would ultimately be used.  Cynical fellow that I am, I also suspect that the NRA is well aware that its plan will not be implemented, but believes that its suggestion will nonetheless result in the sale of more guns.

The Nation (I read conservative journals as well, you know) notes that the NRA, though it prefers not to disclose its donors, has thanked Bushmaster for donations in the past, and that there sits on the board of one of its surrogates a lawyer who regularly represents gun manufacturers.  It seems unsurprising that gun manufacturers would support an organization which so avidly promotes the sale of their products and lobbies against their regulation.  One wonders just how much they support it, influence it, control it.

As long as the law does not require this disclosure (the government can be useful now and then, can't it?) this remains a subject for some speculation.  But the NRA once supported gun control, believe it or not (in the early 20th century), and as corporations and money increasingly "call the shots" as it were these days, suspicion is justified.

While browsing the Web on this issue, I noted a comment made by someone to the effect that blaming guns for violence is like blaming cars for being driven by the intoxicated.  I doubt that anyone blames guns in and of themselves, but it is an interesting analogy.  Motor vehicles are rather extensively regulated, as a matter of fact, both in their manufacture and in their use.  That's because most people recognize that they are extremely dangerous when misused.  The regulations require their registration and licensing.  Insurance is required in the anticipation that they will be misused, negligently or intentionally.  These regulations obtain regardless of any right to travel. 

Guns present a danger as much as if not more than motor vehicles.  This is largely because it is the purpose of guns and not cars to wound, kill, injure or destroy something, living or not living.  Regrettably, guns are at least as susceptible to misuse as cars.  If we countenance the extensive regulation of cars and other products which may be harmful, why do we balk at doing so with guns?

Because the right to bear them is enshrined in the Constitution?  But other constitutional rights are limited when they result in harm.  Proponents of guns are recommending greater regulation of the right of free speech also so enshrined and even given pride of place over the right to bear arms.

I doubt it can be reasonably maintained the it is the intent of the Constitution, or was the intent of the framers of that document, to prohibit all restrictions on the rights it sets forth.  The question is what restrictions are reasonable, given their status as constitutional rights.  Restricting a right does not necessarily entail its violation.

The problem of gun violence in our society is obviously not solely due to the prevalence of weapons.  But calling for restriction of weapons is not premised on such an assumption.  Treatment of the other causes is called for as well.  One doesn't preclude the other.

The NRA and certain of the proponents of gun rights seem to abhor any restrictions, regardless of the intent of those restrictions or the character of guns as extremely dangerous.  They apparently view the right to bear arms as a kind of super-right, trumping all others.  It is natural to wonder why they do so.

Lawyers as Shills

I've been practicing law for quite some time now.  I've always been in private practice, generally in firms of 10 or so attorneys, sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less.  For a relatively short time, 3-4 years, I worked in a larger firm, with more than 100 attorneys.  I've been around, have seen a great deal; have seen the practice of law alter rather dramatically for various reasons, sometimes for the good and sometimes for the bad.  One of the ways in which I think it's changed for the bad is the emphasis increasingly being made on the lawyer functioning not as a lawyer, but as a shill.

A shill is a promoter, a booster, someone skilled in the art of the sales pitch.  The term can be used derisively and can have somewhat sleazy connotations, but I'm not necessarily saying that a lawyer today is called upon to act as a con man or a carnival barker.  However, especially in the case of large law firms, lawyers are being valued more and more for their ability to market not merely themselves and their firms, but their clients as well.  They are valued less and less for their skill in the practice of law.  They are encouraged to act as shills more than they act as lawyers; not so much practice law as sell, sell and sell.

To a certain extent, of course, this has always been the case.  Rainmakers (as they are called) have always been esteemed because of the clients they attract.  And of course advertisement of legal services, once restricted, is commonplace.  Some of the advertising has been and is less than dignified.

But now large firms are not just trying to attract clients.  They also seek to promote their clients to state governments and the federal government; they lobby, sometimes registering themselves as lobbyists, sometimes not.  They seek to promote clients as businesses in the global market.  They pursue the political aims of their clients and sometimes political parties (Reince Priebus, Chair of the Republican National Committee, practiced in a large firm which regularly represents Republican candidates and elected officials).  They network, identify and target key players, push agendas. 

For me, this is not practicing law.  I find myself wondering why lawyers are doing such things, when it seems anyone with marketing skills would do (likely for much less in the way of remuneration).  I also find myself wondering what effect this has or will have on the quality of legal practitioners.  If the most glamorous, high-paying jobs for attorneys are as shills (not to mention the easiest jobs when it comes to the knowledge of the law and representing clients before courts and agencies) what motivation is there to be a "real lawyer"?

The law has been used as a stepping stone into politics for a long time.  I question whether lawyers make good elected officials.  Lawyers are trained to represent a single client, told to avoid conflicts of interest.  A lawyer representing a number of people with conflicting interests is, I think, ill-equipped to do so.  Lawyers obviously have a place in government, there being so many laws to interpret, apply and draft, but I question whether they should have the place they hold in politics.

Sadly, lawyers already have a poor reputation.  I suspect it will get worse, though, the more they act as and are perceived as nothing more than wheeler dealers.  But it may be that I'm just an old fashioned sort, and am of a dying breed.  No doubt there will always be a need for skilled legal practitioners, but I fear their ranks will grow thinner and thinner.  Perhaps the future will see The Triumph of the Shill.

Something Regarding Free Will

I've been reading a little book, or essay, on free will by Sam Harris (it's about 70 pages).  I haven't read much on the issue, I must confess.  But if this work by Harris is representative of the debate, it doesn't seem like much of a debate.  Alas, this seems to be my reaction to much of what passes for philosophy; that's to say, of course, much of what I read which purports to be philosophical.  It may be I don't read enough, especially regarding the "question" of "problem" of free will.  It may also be that I'm simply stupid.

Regardless, I'm perplexed because a great deal of what he has to say in support of his claim that free will is an illusion seems to me to be relatively uncontroversial.  I think of myself as being a proponent of free will, so I find it difficult to believe that anyone who is supportive of it would be strongly opposed to some of Harris' position.  However, it's evident he believes there to be some significant opposition to his claim.

If I understand him correctly, he notes that we are all influenced by our genes, our hormones, our neurons, our environment, our upbringing, and various other factors regarding which we have no control, and which are not caused by any deliberate action on our part.  He feels that these factors so influence our thoughts, feelings, desires, and conduct that there is clearly no such thing as free will.  We can't really know why we think and feel and act as we do, and we don't really decide what we do, freely, because all these things are the result of such factors.  We may, if asked why we make a certain decision, be able to come up with a rational explanation which seems to be based on our voluntary thought process; but that explanation is not valid.  It, no doubt, is also the result of the many factors over which we have no control.

It happens that I have trouble thinking of anyone who would maintain that our genes, hormones, neurons, environment, upbringing etc. do not influence our decisions.  It may be that there are such folk, just as there are those who think that the earth was created in 6 days about 6,000 years ago.  However, I don't see such folk as serious contributors to the free will debate which apparently is ongoing.

I can conceive of debate over the extent to which such factors influence our decisions, but I find it difficult to accept the idea that a proponent of free will would or must maintain that they have no influence whatsoever.

Oddly, Harris seems to acknowledge that we can, sometimes, come to a conclusion or decision all by ourselves, as it were, with a minimum of influence by these factors, and in that sense have a certain degree of control over what we do.  The examples he uses in this regard make sense to me as well, and lead me to wonder just why he feels free will is an illusion.  I wonder whether he feels that "free will" means the ability to make decisions without being influenced by the factors I allude to; in other words, I wonder whether he thinks there are proponents of what I'll call here "absolute free will" and seeks to persuade us there is no such thing.  Unsurprisingly, because I think that there are few such proponents, I wonder whether he's beating the proverbial straw man.

For me, it's quite possible to believe in free will yet acknowledge that much of what we do is influenced by our genes, etc.  That's merely to say I don't believe in "absolute free will."  What we desire and want to do are naturally influenced by our environment and our nature, as we are organisms having a certain constitution living in a particular environment.  If we weren't so influenced, we wouldn't exist.  Yet we make decisions which cannot be attributed solely to influenced desires and needs.  We can choose different ways to satisfy them, for example, and determine what ways are more effective.

Harris uses as an example the fact that after many years, he decided to return to the study of and training in martial arts which he had engaged in when young.  He claims that while he can think of several good reasons supporting why he returned to marital arts, but he can't really know why he did so, rendering his return to them something different from a voluntary decision.

I fenced when young, stopped fencing for many years, returned to it for about 5 years, and have stopped fencing once more.  I stopped fencing because the club at which I fenced is open only certain evening during the week and on the weekend, and my schedule and the schedules of those who pariticipate in determining my schedule prevent me from fencing.  I suppose I could fence, but would have to skip meals, reduce sleep, and am not inclined to do so.

Am I coming up with reasons a posteriori?  Was I somehow compelled to stop fencing by forces beyond my control?  To a certain extent, yes; as my schedule changed for reasons which it is not important to address.  And, my genes and whatever may lead me to not want to go without meals or sleep.  But is this what is meant when we say that "free will" was not involved in my decision to stop fencing?  If so, it's difficult for me to believe that the free will debate has any significance.

Harris maintains we can dispense with the illusion of free will and still maintain that people are responsible for their actions, morality, and the legal system.  I find this unsurprising, though, because a belief is "absolute free will" is not required to maintain that people have at least a certain degree of responsiblity

Clarence Darrow was a lawyer who regularly argued that his clients, at least, were not really responsible for the crimes they were said to commit.  I doubt, though, that he thought he never voluntarily made a decision in his life.

As with most other things, I think that a determination whether or not a decision is "freely" made must take into consideration the circumstances and the decision-maker.  The extent to which a decision is free will vary.  I doubt most of us ever feel we're absolutely free, or that we're absolutely "unfree" and think that is a reasonable conclusion to make.

Regarding Quietism

I refer to Quietism in philosophy, not religion, and by Quietism in philosophy I refer to that view of certain philosophers that traditional issues of philosophy cannot or should not be the subject of debate or dispute, because they result from confusion due to imprecise or improper use of language, false assumptions, bad analogies, needless quests for absolute certainty.  Wittgenstein, I suppose, was a great proponent of Quietism.  J. L. Austin and Gilbert Ryle also come to mind.  I think certain pragmatists were, as well.

It is a view I find seductive, or at least persuasive.  Philosophers have been debating issues related to reality, knowledge, the good, the beautiful and propounding great systems regarding them for centuries, and it seems all for nought, and nothing is resolved; the same questions are still asked, and debated, and other, different, systems are propounded in what seems an endless profusion.  Quietist (if there is such a word) philosophers have in many cases successfully (I think) demonstrated that much of this disputation and much of this grand systematizing is the result of confusion and imprecision in the use of language, or have otherwise pointed out that such questions as are being asked should not be asked, or are not really questions to begin with, and such problems as are being addressed by philosophers are not really problems.

I also question whether these traditional philosophical questions are worthy of further consideration.  But then I find myself asking what would happen if they are no longer addressed by philosophers.  If there is no philosophical pursuit of such questions (pursuit by philosophers, I mean) would this not leave the field open to those who are not philosophers?  Philosophers at least endeavor to employ reason, and a method of analysis, to questions.  Regardless of their success in answering them, should we not encourage the use of reason in the effort to answer the "great questions" rather than see them made the exclusive domain and concern of the mystical...the irrational?

Would that be the result of philosophy's abandonment of these issues, though?  To the extent that people look to philosophers for anything these days when it comes to such questions, it seems they look to dead philosophers.  This makes a kind of sense.  It doesn't seem very likely that philosophers will come to conclusions regarding such questions that have not already been arrived at by the philosophers of the past (except, perhaps, the conclusions arrived at by the Quietists, and even those are of the past).  Those who are mystics and are inclined to look to the irrational for answers to such questions probably will not even think to consider the work of living philosophers.

So, I don't think we need worry that most people will embrace the irrational in addressing the great, traditional philosophical questions, because of the efforts of the Quietists.  But what of those who are not "most people"?  What of philosophers themselves, or that amorphous class of people we call "intellectuals"?

There, I fear, the damage has already been done, in the sense that some philosophers, and many intellectuals, apparently have come to distrust and denigrate reason, and propound the irrational (e.g., postmodernists).  This started, I think, in the late 19th century and extended into the 20th century and this anti-reason tendency carries on today, though it may be suffering a setback.  Suggestively, this tendency is more or less contemporaneous with Quietism. 

For good or ill, philosophers and intellectuals have a certain degree of influence.  And by questioning reasoning, or science, as some of them have done, they make it difficult to combat those who make contend that answers may be given to questions and problems may be solved in a manner contrary to reason and science.  To what end do we claim that certain religious views, or certain customs or beliefs, are unreasonable, or make no sense, if we insist and are on record saying there is no way of establishing, really, that is the case?

This is something that causes a legitimate concern.  I'm not sure this is something which has resulted from Quietism, though.  There is nothing in Quietism which encourages the denigration of reason as far as I can see.  Reason is above all a method.  Quietists may well contend that reason is not or should not be applied to the "great questions" because doing so is fruitless, but it doesn't follow from this that it is not usefully and beneficially applied to other questions and other problems.

Quietism doesn't require the abandonment of reason, then.  It suggests only that it is misapplied in certain cases.

The Art Which Teaches Us How to Live

Montaigne asked an interesting question:  "Since philosophy is the art which teaches us how to live, and since children need to learn it as much as we do at other ages, why do we not instruct them in it?"

Whether philosophy is any longer the art Montaigne thought it to be is debatable.  It appears that for many it is not, though I don't delight in making that statement.  I'm not entirely certain what it is, but whatever it may now be the thought of it being taught to children is absurd.  It is not so much that it would be beyond their comprehension; it is that even if they could comprehend it, they would find it useless in teaching them how to live, and education would seem to have a good deal with teaching how to live.  I would maintain that how to live remains for children and adults a question of vital (ignoring for the moment that word's derivation) importance. 

I think it's fair to say that philosophy was thought to teach us how to live for a very long time, from the time of Socrates to the time of Montaigne and perhaps even beyond that.  How to live seems no longer to be its concern, though.  It seems to have detached itself from considerations of conduct.  It is concerned with other things, things which because they are unrelated to how to live render it less vital almost by definition.

Now this line of thought presumes that "live" has a certain meaning to which the adverb "how" properly applies. When we ask "How?" in relation to "live" (which is not merely a state) we are asking in what manner, in what way?  If we inquire into in what manner or in what way we are to live, we are inquiring in to how to conduct ourselves, i.e. how to act of not act.  How to act or whether not to act is a consideration which relates to certain circumstances.  It would not be a consideration where there are no circumstances.  How to act or whether to act is a consideration we encounter all the time, while alive, because by living we interact necessarily with others and the rest of the world and that interaction requires judgment and action. 

But if how to act or whether to act are not the concern of philosophy, what is its concern?  If it asks "how?" of anything it would seem to be addressing something which has occurred or is occurring, even if what is being inquired relates to a condition (e.g. "how do you feel?").  Why would it ask "how", though, in a manner which does not relate to what transpires while we are living?  I don't think it can.  So, if it does not address "how" just what does it address?  Not "when", it seems.

"What", perhaps?  What is thought, what is reality, what is the mind, what is a person, what are words, what do we mean by "what"?  If that's the case, though, why does it ask "what"?  What is the purpose of "What?"  Is there no purpose, is this idle curiosity in the purest sense, the pursuit of knowledge with no end in view?

I don't think so.  No matter how one may try to detach philosophy from what we do by living, it can't be done.  This is because any question or issue we address is, obviously, one we raise due to the fact that we are living; it issues from that fact that we live, from what we do as living organisms.  It is indeed one of the things we do as living organisms.

If philosophy cannot be detached from our lives as living organisms, though, may it not be applied in our lives, as it was in the past?  In fact, must it not be so applied?  If it must be so applied, do not considerations regarding what it would be most beneficial to apply it to necessarily arise?  And should we not debate those considerations, and act upon the outcome of the debate?

Perhaps it is possible philosophy may, once more, become the art which teaches us how to live.

Settling in the Mould of our Vulgarity

Our long national nightmare of an election (apologies to Gerald Ford for this phrase; apologies to Robinson Jeffers for the title to this post) is over at last, and the result is:  there is no result.  Nothing has happened.  The president is the same, the Senate is the same, the House is the same, and, alas, we are the same.  We have the dubious assurance that not only has nothing happened, but nothing will happen, either, as it seems those who govern us will largely remain those who govern us, and nothing is to be expected from them.  And as we remain governed by them, nothing may be expected from us. 

Perhaps, in this case, nothing is better than something.  One of the reasons our mildly interesting but not very inspiring president was the victor may well be the fact that the unfortunate Mr. Romney, who seems a pragmatist in the common sense of that word, was required to bleat comforting words to the increasingly isolated but disturbingly predominate, zealous, and backward members of the Republican party in order to gain his nomination.  He was then required to tolerate, if not actively support, certain of them who ran for office and took it upon themselves to make indefensible and in some senses bizarre comments while doing so.  He evidently felt it necessary to appear to be one of these anachronisms, until the final days of the race.

I like to think that if he had been elected, Romney would have managed at least to disregard the Floyd Turbos of his party.  But anyone with a minimal grasp of reality must understand that such folk are increasingly becoming an (increasingly disgruntled) minority in the politics of the United States, and indeed the politics of the world in general.  Social conservatism (as opposed to political conservatism) which demands the cooperation of the government in stopping change and social freedom is no longer viable, and should not be.  The simple ignorance which is the basis for much of this is bound to dissipate.  Too much information is available and accessible.  Too much is changing and will change.  One can no longer stand athwart history and yell "Stop!" in this respect, at least (apologies to William F. Buckley, Jr.)

It must also be acknowledged that there has been a certain hysteria involved in much of the criticism of our continuing president.  It has been hyperbolic, exclamatory and even weird.  He's a socialist, a traitor, a foreigner, a Muslim.  There is little or nothing to back up such claims.  My memory doesn't go back to the days of McCarthy; perhaps similar frenzy was the rule back then as well.  But rhetoric of this kind is born of ignorance, hatred and fear of that which is different, and these emotions are not conducive to thought.  They are, rather, conducive to efforts to repress.

Indeed, there is some indication that individual freedom from traditionalistic restraints gained ground in this election cycle; witness votes in favor of allowing gays to marry and legalizing marijuana.  But other restraints remain, and the danger arising from the seemingly irrepressible urge of some to use government to save us from ourselves becomes more potent.  Also, we're increasingly in thrall to the very wealthy and therefore very powerful, and this is the case because both Democrats and Republicans are nearly their feudal vassals.  The Obama campaign is said to have received more money than the Romney campaign, and its doubtful that most of this came from the poor and disadvantaged.  There are exceedingly rich people who are ideological Democrats, but just as interested in protecting and increasing their money and their ability to influence life because they have money as are ideological Republicans.

The fact that these two parties are essentially thralls to a small segment of the population and are interested in remaining so bound makes it difficult for third parties to exist and function in American politics, and this is one of the great defects of our system.  It may be the case that Democrats are generally more sympathetic to the idea of change, but their idea of change is too often change through the imposition of government controls and restrictions.  The Republicans maintain they seek limited government, but the limitations they seek to impose are too often limitations which have as their purpose benefiting only a few who are already benefited.

Thus far, it seems that most of us are content to let this continue.  There will be no significant change until this changes. 

A Plague of (and upon) Pundits

I've been wondering why it is that I (and it seems others as well) feel particularly weary of our politics these days.  No doubt this weariness is the result of the nature of our politicians, our political system, and the cynicism which they breed.  But I think also that, more and more, the ubiquity of pundits, who are displayed like totems by those who believe themselves to be journalists in these dark times (o tempora!) are to blame for our--or at least my--discontent, ennui.

I'm increasingly annoyed by the chihuahua-like yapping of Chris Matthews, the boorish, beefy locutions of Rush Limbaugh, the nasal pontifications of Bill Maher, the messianic vagaries of Glenn Beck...the list goes on, and on.  But these are only among the wealthier of those who, for reasons I find puzzling, are paid to tell us incessantly what they think about people and events.  There is always some lackey of a political candidate or party, some self-or-media appointed expert, someone, some person, regardless of qualification or party or preference who is called upon by some talking head to remark on whatever is considered news. 

Do broadcast journalists now think it impossible to function without some pundit or expert available to expound on something they speak on camera or to a microphone?  It cannot be that these people are used, or indeed are expected, to contribute to the knowledge of those who watch or listen, or provide some insight.  They generally say exactly what anyone with nominal intelligence would expect them to say based on their all-to-obvious interests or positions.  Why bother asking them to appear?  Has it become a custom of sorts?  Is there a general, implied agreement that pundits will be called upon on any topic?  Is there a kind of union of pundits which has compelled television and radio networks to employ at least one of its members whenever they are "on the air"?

Clearly, those of us who are not pundits or journalists are considered incapable of thinking for ourselves.  So, we are provided with pundits who will tell us what to think and why we should think it.  The fact that pundits increase and prosper, go forth and multiply, would seem to indicate that this is believed to be the case and, worse yet, may in fact be the case.  Or, if we are not yet incapable of thinking for ourselves--if there are still persons capable of thought among us--perhaps the plethora of pundits will inexorably assure that we will become incapable of making decisions on the issues of the day without their supposed assistance.

Unfortunately, pundits seem to impact our conduct more and more.  They tell us how to act, how to react.  That tell us who will or will not be elected.  They tell us what they will or will not do once they are elected.  They tell us what foreign countries will do, what religious people will do, what the markets will do, and what will happen (to us) when they do what they will do.

It is a kind of plague, and there is a way to avoid a plague and that is to avoid contamination.  That is, in this case, achieved rather simply despite the omnipresence of those who carry or propagate the plague.  Stop watching them; stop paying any attention to them.  Don't read them, don't listen to them.  There are only a few of them who know anything or have anything to tell you and you can, if you but try, find out what you need to make an informed decision all by yourself.  They must be quarantined.  There is no cure, they cannot be made well.  If we are fortunate, they will die off.

Save yourself, while you still can.  Think for yourself.

The Fascination of Games of Skill

There are certain of us who are fascinated by such games, and that fascination and the availability of these games given our technology fascinate me, and are the subjects of this post.  By "games" I do not mean sports, which doubtless involve skill but are not my topic today.

I should acknowledge what expertise, or lack of expertise, I have in these games.  I can only pretend to a real knowledge of one of them in particular, and that is chess.  That knowledge is somewhat beyond that of a casual or recreational player, although I'm purely a recreational player at this time.  But in the past I've been a competitive scholastic and club player, which I think earns me a different status in some respects.

I'm not sure whether chess is typical of games of skill or whether it is peculiar.  I do know, however, sometimes from personal experience and sometimes not, that very good chess players can be very peculiar indeed.  Bobby Fischer is the best modern example of this peculiarity I can think of; arguably the best chess player ever, but also at times malicious and seemingly delusional.  Paul Morphy is a good example of chess' peculiar past.  But there are very good chess players who can be described as normal, more or less, but for their concern with chess, which can be their primary concern in life.

The complexity of chess in a sense requires such concern.  If one wants to be a very good chess player, a great deal of study is required, and much over-the-board experience is needed is well, particularly in tournaments.  That is quite time consuming.  But what is it about chess, or about a person, which motivates the desire to be a very good player?

To a certain extent, I think chess' complexity is fascinating in and of itself.  We are problem solvers by nature; that is what we must do to survive and thrive.  John Dewey claimed that we only really think when we encounter a problem and I think he was right in a sense.  Complex problems challenge us, and there is a very real satisfaction we feel when we solve such problems.

That satisfaction is increased, though, when in solving such problems we do so better than others and by doing so defeat them in what is considered a contest of skill.  So, our conceit and self-love is very much involved, and our desire for status in a community.  Fischer as I recall claimed to delight in psychologically crushing his opponents.  Perhaps there is a kind of malice or ruthlessness that is needed in order to be a predominate player of such games.

Do these considerations apply to other games of skill?  Assuming poker involves skill (and I think it does), are these factors relevant to good play?  Or is the monetary component primary?  They actually televise poker, for reasons I confess I don't understand, but that may be simply because poker doesn't really interest me.  That seems to indicate it is fascinating in a certain way, but is that fascination a fascination with poker itself, or a function of the fact that certain of us enjoy being spectators to people winning or losing large sums of money?  What about contract bridge?  What about wei chi, also known as go or goh?

Our technology now allows us to experience various games of skill, some of them which may be considered exotic.  There are applications, for example, by which those who download them may be challenged not merely in chess, but in wei chi, or senet (an ancient Egyptian game) or ludus lantrunculorum, a game played in ancient Rome and Greece.  There are also "games of skill" applications which seem to involve finding things, and running silly looking figures through mazes; the applications themselves are emblazoned by garish and cartoonish logos which I avoid instinctively, so I don't know whether or not skill is actually involved.

I know of wei chi through Edward Lasker's book on it (a chess player who became interested in it) and by reputation as a game requiring great skill indeed.  An enjoyment of history makes me interested in ancient games of skill.  As I result, I've downloaded applications for those games and others, those whose logos are subdued, and am enjoying them, though I don't know whether those applications are "good" in the sense I know certain chess applications are (the rules governing the ancient games are not known for certain, so those applications are to an extent speculative).

It seems wonderful that our technology now gives so many of us access to such games, which would not have been available even a short time ago.  But will this merely feed our fascination with these games, and result in more and more of us succumbing to that fascination to the exclusion of more pressing concerns?  More Bobby Fischers would not necessarily be "optimal" as our President would say.

Homage to Matthew Arnold

Ultimately, I think he managed to transcend Romanticism, and that is much to his credit.  It was not easy, given the times in which he lived, to appeal to the rational, nor was it easy for him to do what I think he did, and that is to move poetry from its overwrought, sometimes saccharine, indulgence in the emotions and gushing celebration of nature towards the modernism of such as Elliot and Stephens; towards a coolly intellectual though melancholy appraisal of life.  Dover Beach remains, for me, one of the greatest poems, and it fascinates me that a Victorian managed to write it.

He was a fine writer of prose as well, and an astute social and literary critic.  When it comes to religion, which clearly was of great importance to him, it strikes me that in a way he is a tragic figure, doomed to appreciate the Greek and Roman thinkers, including Marcus Aurelius and the Stoics, who espoused a pre-Christian view he admired and yet bound to champion Christianity, or at least a version of it, cleansed as best as possible in that era from superstition.  It makes for a certain inconsistency in his thought.

So does his respect for tradition and his formidably aristocratic perspective of culture, what it could and should mean, with respect to his desire to improve society.  I'm reading his Culture and Anarchy now, and his musings regarding Nonconformist and Establishment religions are striking in their conservatism, as is his view of education, and he was quite well-versed regarding what passed as education then.

He is inclined to be critical of American education, though he indicates he believes that it has resulted in increased literacy, because he views it as being limited to informing people of and interesting them merely in business and politics, and not what he clearly believes to be of importance, i.e., those aspects of culture which have not much of anything to do with business and politics.  But unless he describes later in this work or otherwise in his writings how one manages to teach the classics and the nonmaterial aspects of culture to the masses, this kind of criticism appears ineffective, and even rather petulant.  Are we to avoid education because it only manages to allow people to read newspapers and does not induce them to read Plato or (shudder) Newman?

One must start somewhere, or not start at all.  I get the impression that he would rather not start at all, unless in starting we teach everything, and this was not a realistic goal then nor is it now.  Still, his sincerity is apparent.  Perhaps that was typical of the Victorians.  They were sincere in their desire to improve humanity, but their conception of what constituted improvement was limited and their conception of the means by which improvement could be made was narrow.

I think of him as a transitional figure, much like J.S. Mill was in philosophy.  Too thoughtful to be an irrational windbag like Emerson or a complete and utter elitist like Coleridge and others of the time, but still inherently conservative in thought and belief,  He reminds me somewhat of Santayana in his prejudices, but he lacks Santayana's naturalism.  A figure worthy of note and serious consideration.

The Renaissance of the Primitive

We live in a world of astounding technological and scientific development in which we are experiencing a kind of rebirth, or renewal, of the more primitive aspects of human thought and culture.  This renaissance of the primitive is most evident in religion, where fundamentalism and literalism seem to be in vogue.  The renaissance is not limited to Islam, though its propensity towards violence and intolerance is most apparent due to the efforts of Islamic radicals.  The anti-science, anti-reason wing of American religion is becoming increasingly vocal; we even have elected officials huffing regarding the satanic origins of the theory of evolution and the big bang and proclaiming the Earth is less than 10,000 years old.

Of course, there has always been something outrageously primitive about certain of the varieties of American Protestantism.  Too many have been eager to do handsprings down the center aisle, to heal and be healed in dramatic fashion, to loudly be witnesses to their faith in this Great Republic, throughout its history.  But the peculiarities of the old tent shows and TV evangelism are becoming more and more pervasive.

Primitive thinking seems also to be prevalent.  It is perhaps inaccurate to describe what takes place before we emote, speak, text, as thinking at all, but whatever it may be it is simple and crude.  Perhaps this is inevitable given the unstoppable urge we apparently feel to do something and do it quickly.  We have become proponents of immediacy.  And these days, what we do may almost be said to be "written in stone" as it will be there, forever, for anyone to see or otherwise experience, on the Web, or video or audio.  All we do is in perpetuum.  Thus, our technology contributes to the propagation of the primitive.

I cannot help but think that the resurgence of the primitive in our society is caused, at least in part, by the exaltation of emotion and denigration of reason, the romanticism, the relativism, the "deconstruction" which have been the fixation, if not the obsession, of too many who have been considered intellectuals and some who have haunted the halls of the Academy for roughly a century and a half; at least those who have been critical of and indeed resentful of science.  All is narrative, we're told.  We all simply tell stories we call science, or philosophy, and their worth is judged through literary criticism only.  It is unsurprising that faced with such a onslaught against reason and reasonableness, many have reverted to simple beliefs which they are willing to defend and propound regardless of whether they are reasonable, for what good is reason?  We are absolved from exercising judgment, and are losing both the ability and the desire to judge intelligently.

Intolerance is inevitable when it is impossible to dispute beliefs.  When it is futile to question the soundess of claims, one claim being just as good as any other, claims are not subject to thought but instead are defended without thought, i.e. physically. 

While we employ reason in addressing certain problems, those related to our physical comfort and technology, because reason clearly benefits us in those respects in ways most of us find desirable, we ignore it in determining what we should do, how we should live and interact with others and the universe of which we are a part.

I think a bang is more likely than a whimper, now.

A Father's Death (Ave Atque Vale)

The way of it was not inspiring, or noble, or peaceful, as one might hope a death would be.  The long, slow decay brought about by cancer; deterioration, debilitation, weakness.  Not a pleasant death for someone always active, sometimes impatient of events and people.  Unpleasant for those close to him as well. 

He could be demanding, could be angry, could be emotional and overbearing.  He could be opinionated.  But he was profoundly interested in his family and its well being, essentially an "old school" Italian in that respect and in others.  He had a great respect for knowledge and education, and tradition.  He was always eager to note the mistakes he felt he had made during life and use them in an effort to prevent you from making the same mistakes.  He was genuinely interested in individuals--I use that word advisedly.  "People" in general did not catch his attention and were not the focus of his intelligence, but those people he met were the subjects of interest, and sometimes intense interest.  He wanted to learn about them, and did so through conversation and questions.  He could judge those he met quite well, and could do so accurately in a very short time, finding the good and the bad in them when others, such as myself, were hesitant and undecided in evaluation.

He was a religious man--traditionally religious--and I think that provided comfort to him and others.  I'm religious in my own way.  It would be wonderful to meet him again, and meet others again, in whatever form.  One hopes for immortality of some kind for those close.

Donald Barthelme wrote a book called The Dead Father which I read long ago.  The vast figure of The Dead Father was dragged about by his children, through all sorts of situations and circumstances.  Barthelme in his fragmented style would comment on the figure and the events, the relations between the figure and the events, sons and fathers, fatherhood.  In a sense, one's father is similarly "with" us even after death, as we carry with us what we learned from him, both good and bad.  He shapes one's reality far more than we shape those things which stubbornly exist regardless of us, indifferent to us.  A father is a standard.

A son is perpetually indebted to his father for many things, and I'm no exception to that rule.  I feel rather like Catullus felt; ave atque vale.  The ancient funeral rites which are due must be made and endured.  It will be a different world, and a strange one, without him.

Religion as Grounds for Violence

The recent killings and protests directed against the U.S. because of an extremely silly and insulting little film invoke their own kind of anger, and lead one to consider just what it is about a religion that causes such reactions.

One can understand anger and condemnation.  That is a common enough reaction of the religious when their religion is attacked, regardless of the nature of the religion.  In this instance, though, Americans were killed, and embassies of the United States were attacked or made the subject of protests.  Those killed had nothing to do with the film, nor did the government of the U.S.  Sensible people would understand that.  The killings, the attacks and the protests, therefore, make no sense.

The reaction thus is unreasonable, which is to say there is no reason supporting it.  It is far more reprehensible than that, however.  One's religion simply should not be the grounds on which innocent people--or any people--are murdered.  If it is, there is unquestionably something wrong with one's religion. 

It is also without question that religions of all kind have been the motivation for violence and murder in our sad history.  This has been less the case as time passes, however.  For religion to serve such a role now is disturbing.  It indicates that some of us, at least, are far more primitive and irrational than they should be in these times.

But it would seem that even if a religion is believed to require in some strange sense that insults to it be met with violence, that violence would only rightly be directed against those making the insults, not against any citizen of the nation in which the insulting happen to reside and not the government of that nation.  That lends an especially insane character to the violence in this case.

It is possible, I suppose, that those who did the killing and caused the destruction in this case thought the film was made or sanctioned by the U.S. government.  If that's the case, they would be fools, however.  Those who believe governments should repress speech must accept the fact that there are some governments which do not.  But here, was the government of the U.S. being punished because it allows free speech or because one of its citizens or residents "spoke" in a particular manner?  Or did such distinctions even matter to those killing and destroying because of an idiotic film?

We must recognize this reaction for what it is, and not maintain that it should not be condemned or punished because a particular culture or religion sanctions it.  Simply put, irrational violence must not be tolerated, regardless of the "reasons" for it.

There is a political issue as well in this case, though, in light of the fact that embassies were attacked and an ambassador killed, and it is apparently true that little was done to protect the embassies in question, and condemnation by the host countries were slow in coming.  It may be that the governments or elements in them sympathized with the violence.

Because of the nature and significance of embassies in international law and relations, some kind of punitive action would be appropriate.  I don't think the U.S. can simply let this pass.  If it does, it is probable it will take place again.

Imperium

In ancient Rome, "imperium" was power of command, or authority.  One had power to take certain action, or certain things and people were subject to one's authority.  "Imperator" was a military title, eventually applied to the military autocrat who came to have authority over all, the Emperor, albeit he was, sometimes, not very military.  The Emperor also came to be called Augustus, after of course Augustus Caesar, and Caesar became a title as well in the later Empire, as a kind of second in command to the Augustus.  Caesar as a title was passed on after the Empire fell, thus the German Kaiser and the Russian Czar.  I wonder why Augustus was not.

I have in mind the great wars of empire, not only those of Rome but those of other would be holders of imperium.  In the West, of course, Rome and Great Britain were notable for their imperial wars, but we can't forget Spain, and even France.  Germany I do not include because it was never seriously a colonial power, and it seems to me colonies or provinces are characteristic of empires and most of all of imperial wars.  The United States took on imperium, at least when it took on the Philippines if not before that.

These wars have a certain fascination for me, because I consider that these empires left their children spread across the world.  Some died naturally, some did not.  Just why they decided to be soldiers of an imperium is a mystery to me.  More of a mystery is why I find this fascinating.

There is a kind of romance involved in it, I think, at least for those of us looking back upon it.  Also a kind of irony tinged by romance by virtue of the great defeats sustained by empires throughout history--at Islawanda for the British for example, or Little Bighorn for the Americans, Adrianople for the Romans.  But what was involved in it for the Europeans and their descendants who (again in the West) decided to overrun much of the world?  I do not refer to the politicians or the merchants, but rather of the soldiers of empire.

I don't think it was merely for the hope of great wealth, though no doubt the pursuit of wealth was a factor in many of their decisions.  Was it the urge to be part of a great "civilizing" influence?  The desire to take up the "white man's burden" to use Kipling's now infamous phrase?  Was there simply nothing else to do, if one was not the eldest son of the nobility, than to distinguish oneself in battle--battle being necessarily to be found among those being conquered?

Death in pursuit of empire; death in the service of empire, imperium.  Is there something felt to be inherently noble in this?  Perhaps this is one of the great legacies of Rome.  The British in their imperial years seemed to deliberately model themselves on Rome.

Now we bring our soldiers of empire home when they die for imperium, but there must be graves spread across the world where soldiers of empire fell and are buried.  All in the exercise of power and authority.  However, it seems, for what is always called something else.  Now it is for democracy, or nation building, or something of the sort.

This characteristic of the exercise of imperium is not a great legacy of Rome.  The Romans had no pretensions when it came to the exercise of power and authority, though they believed their exercise of it was entirely proper; unquestionably appropriate.  So Virgil wrote of humbling the proud and ruling the nations in peace as peculiarly Roman traits.  But the Romans sought to rule and benefit from the ruled without apologies and for no other purpose but to rule and benefit from the ruled.  Those benefits which accrued to the conquered people were mere byproducts of the exercise of imperium.  Pretensions were the modus operandi of other, later powers.  The Christian empires claimed to wield imperium for the good of others.

So, perhaps the soldiers of the Christian empires bought into this idea, for all the good it did them, or does them now.  Does this render them more or less honorable?

The Most Stupid People

J.S. Mill once said, in one of his relatively few statements as a member of Parliament for a short time, that "[c]onservatives are not necessarily stupid people, but most stupid people are Conservatives."  His statement related to the Conservatives of his time, but I wonder if it is true regarding those of our time, or to those who call themselves "conservative" in our times, here in this Great Republic.

One doesn't expect profound thinking or perhaps even thought from the likes of Hank Williams, Jr., and I've always been inclined to disregard political pronouncements from our professional entertainers of any stripe, whether they foolishly volunteer their opinions or are egged on by eager members of the media.  But there are those from whom we may expect something approaching the ability to think, and among those are such as judges and those running for national office.  The recent statements of a county judge in Texas who will remain unnamed here (primarily because I find it difficult to resist the urge to make play with that name) and those of candidate Akin cause me to believe that expectation is unfounded.

There is an honorable intellectual tradition in Conservative thought.  But in this country it seems to have been eclipsed by a tradition which is virulently anti-intellectual, anti-reason, anti-science and anti-that-which-is-not-white-American and conventionally religious and anti-intellectual, anti-reason and anti-science.  This must be disturbing to any intelligent Conservative, as in our most unfortunate two-party system it means for the most part that those intelligent Conservatives who exist must necessarily associate themselves with members of the Republican Party, who seem intent on demonstrating that they are, mostly, stupid people.

In this farcical presidential election, we have an incumbent president who I think would in normal circumstances be quite vulnerable.  However, the association of most stupid people with the Republican Party may very well manage to make a president who has, I think it's fair to say, been incompetent look like the only reasonable alternative to government by ignorant buffoons.  It is a horrible situation to be in at a critical time.

Conservatism is generally typified by a caution regarding change, particularly change implemented by government.  However, it can be a viable political philosophy only if it can recognize change which has already taken place.  The Republican Party seems to have considerable trouble accepting such change; in the status of women, gays, religion and the so-called minorities which will soon enough be a majority.  It seems convinced that the majority of the American people are ersatz versions of Bocephus, Pat Robertson and the enormously wealthy.  This simply is untrue now, and will be staggeringly untrue in the future.

If a thoughtful Conservatism is to survive, it must disassociate itself from the Know-Nothings, fundamentalists and tycoons who have become the representatives of the Right in these dark times.  It must champion reason and freedom and the rule of law.  The rule of law includes in this nation a neutral stance regarding religion.  It should neither encourage nor discourage it.  It should not sanction the imposition of religious views nor should it sanction the prohibition of religious views.  Simply put, religion is not the law.

A thoughtful Conservatism as a political force may turn out to be impossible in our two-party system, but I think it would be desirable if a party was formed which could support the idea of limited government and individual liberty and yet manage not to be a tool of the wealthy and a haven for most stupid people.

The Increasingly Curious Case of Julian Assange

I wouldn't have chosen a balcony from which to declaim; too many associations with the histrionics of Il Duce and Der Fuhrer.  But it may be that his choices as to the place from which to make a public statement were limited under the circumstances, so we must forgive Mr. Assange for this oddity.  But I think it did make him look rather preposterous, and may play to the claims made by some, including former comrades at WikiLeaks, that he is suffering from megalomania.

But he has been granted asylum by a sovereign nation, and although that nation apparently is not known for its tolerance and keeps a very tight leash on its own media and so seems a rather inappropriate place for someone with Assange's pretensions to petition, it presumably has certain rights under international law, including that of granting asylum.  It also, I think, has certain rights with respect to the inviolability of its embassy.  If Great Britain threatened that status, that is also curious, as would be a law which allows a host country to decide an embassy may be invaded under certain circumstances.  If we are to have law in such matters, it would seem to be fundamentally contrary to that law to allow host countries to unilaterally determine whether it will apply in any given case.

I think it would also be curious if what Assange says is true, i.e. that the United States is engaged in some kind of conspiracy with Sweden and Great Britain to whisk him away and punish him for revealing information it deems secret.  I don't think that because I believe these countries would not engage in a conspiracy if they thought it necessary; I am cynical regarding the intent and conduct of countries, including my own.

However, I like to credit those who make decisions for governments with a certain degree of intelligence--enough to know that extraditing Assange to Sweden merely for the purpose of turning him over to the United States would so discredit them that it simply would not be worthwhile, and would turn him into a martyr to more people than he is currently, if indeed there are any but himself who hold the opinion that he is one.  Also, I doubt that if he is a threat, he is much of a threat, any longer.  I would assume that wherever he should go and wherever he should be, he'll be very closely watched, and would think that if he goes to Ecuador his effectiveness as a conduit for secret information is seriously compromised.  And because of this and because he is not a sympathetic or heroic figure (regardless of whether he ever was one), I doubt he will be sought out as the repository for such information.

I've reviewed the legal proceedings and opinions issued by the courts of the United Kingdom regarding the validity and enforcement of the warrant by which it is demanded he be sent to Sweden, and admit to some unease as the interpretation made of the applicable treaty is that such warrants may be issued without judicial review.  That would seem to me to be dangerous, and I hope the U.S. has not signed on to anything similar. So I think a concern regarding the proceedings is legitimate, in this respect.  I'm uncertain, though, that there is any point to any authority pushing this much further.

I think the U.K. cannot reasonably be expected to do more than it has done as far as its obligations to enforce the warrant are concerned.  I don't think it can be said to be required to storm the embassy, for example, or otherwise physically prevent the grant of asylum from taking its course.  The blame would fall on Ecuador if blame is assigned.

As can be inferred easily enough, I don't like Assange.  I don't find self-appointed guardians of the human race admirable; I suspect them of megalomania, in fact.  Even his old friends are condemning him for a variety of reasons, and think he's destroyed WikiLeaks.  Because I question the viability of his claims of a great international conspiracy I think that if he asserts there is no basis for the allegations made against him in Sweden, he should contest them, formally.  Once one goes to a country, one should expect to be subject to its laws while there, and not simply to be able to run away when they are applied.

But I think prolonging this situation at this point ascribes to him more importance than he has, and is a waste of resources. 

Incident at Oak Creek

This tendency of certain rather pathetic white males to indulge their anger and psychosis by wrecking havoc on the unsuspecting with guns is most disturbing.  It is disturbing in part because guns are so readily available, which means that such creatures can count on being well-armed when they decide to kill people (perhaps in a strange effort to impart some sort of significance to their lives, which seem so lacking in achievement and so full of failure).  But it may be something we must live with, at least here in what Warren Zevon once called "the home of the brave and the land of the free, where the less you know the better off you'll be."  We have too much vested in guns in this nation, including perhaps for some of us our self-regard, such as it is.

It's also disturbing that this man was once a member of what the media insists on calling the Army's "elite psychological operations" unit.  One would hope that those who become members of this unit are tested for psychological stability, or would at least have the ability to recognize psychological deficiencies as well as take advantage of them for military purposes.  It's true the Army got rid of him, eventually.  Perhaps a general discharge should raise red flags when it comes to purchasing weapons.

Can it be that this shooter caused such harm merely because he had (not surprisingly) trouble in his relationships with women?  It would seem that in that case he would have murdered the women in question, alone or in addition to others.  Given his connections with white supremacist groups, though, it's more likely he killed because he thought those he was killing in some sense threatened that supremacy.  As such groups are not known for the scope and sophistication of their knowledge, it wouldn't be surprising if he thought the Sikhs, who very effectively rebelled against Muslim dominance, were Muslims themselves.  It seems others have come to the same very irrational conclusion and harassed Sikhs since what we call 9/11 (the incorrect report that this shooter had a 9/11 tattoo is somewhat disturbing as well).  Than again, those killed and injured also must have enraged this man by virtue of the fact that they were not white and, what would normally have been fortunate for them, unlike him in many ways.

In the United States, it seems these events don't result in gun control.  Instead, they apparently prompt more people to acquire guns.  It may be they believe that they will be better able to avoid being killed through random attacks by angry, disturbed, pitiful white males by doing so.  Most regrettably, they may have grounds for that belief, given our evident inability as a nation or society to prevent such attacks from taking place.  But when we buy things we're inclined to use them, and fearful people with deadly weapons pose dangers as well.

Perhaps the inculcation of self-control and respect for others is needed at an early age, now, in these so less than happy times.  It seems it is not taught, typically, in schools and perhaps it should be.  We can't expect parents to do so, as it's likely they lack such virtues themselves.  Once we are able to convince ourselves that such things may be taught without teaching religion (which may be a difficult thing in this country) the Constitution should be no barrier.  Will the American oddly fetishistic conception of religion allow us to teach virtue to our young?

This is an interesting question.  It's probable parents will think (1) that the government has no business instructing their children in the essentials of morality; or (2) that teaching morality requires the teaching of religion, which means in this country teaching the Christian religion.  As to the latter, there will be those who feel this is good and those who feel it is bad, and those who feel it cannot legally be done regardless of whether they think it is good or bad.  The result will be that nothing will be done, in public schools at least, and perhaps this is why nothing along these lines has been attempted in the past.

Perhaps what we'll end up doing is requiring that our children be taught the use of guns.  We may as well supply them with guns while we're at it.

Plaintive Love

We are commanded to love one another, in the Bible.  It's been claimed that this injunction distinguishes Christian ethics from others.  That may be true.  I wonder, though, whether that is to its credit.  That is to say, I wonder whether this command can be followed.  If it can't be in most cases, that would seem to make loving one another an unrealizable, and therefore useless, ideal.

I would maintain that it is an ideal that certainly has not been followed, by Christians or others, except in individual cases which themselves are distinguished from others as being romantic or familial in nature.  A parent (normally) loves his/her child.  One person may be in love with another.  But nobody loves a neighbor, or acquaintance, or enemy, or anyone but one's child as one loves one's child, nor does anyone love anyone but one's lover as one loves one's lover.  It would be dishonest to claim otherwise.

It may be asserted that the command that we "love one another" is not a command that we love all others as we love our children, or as we love our lovers.  And it's true that another Christian injunction is that we love our neighbor as we love ourselves.  It's not clear to me, though, that we can love ourselves as we may love others.  We have no relation to ourselves, unless we subscribe to a dualism odder than most.  However, we necessarily have relations to and with others, for the excellent reason that they are other.  And just how do we love ourselves that can be said to apply to our love for others?

If what is intended by "love" one another is that we feel benevolent towards each other, or seek each other's good, then it seems to me we're not referring to "love."  We're referring to being nice, or fair, or helpful to one another.  We will be nice to those we love, of course, but we'll be much more than that as well. 

An ethics based on love would be wonderful, but it is fantastic; so remote from what is the case that it cannot be achieved and is not applied.  If we seek to be moral, we should set standards which can be achieved.  Any realistic ethic must be based on such standards.

We can, for example, respect one another without having to be dishonest regarding our actual status and feelings.  We need not love someone to have respect for their person, thoughts and desires. 

Those who enjoin us to love one another do us, and themselves, a disservice.  They urge us to do something we will not and cannot do.  Especially when such an injunction is portrayed as a divine command, this can lead us to disregard what is within our capacities which can guide us in our conduct. 

To paraphrase Mencken (and refer to him once again) love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.  We can imagine all we want, but we will address our problems only through the application of our intelligence, because intelligence is part of our interaction with each other and the rest of the world.  Imagination may inform intelligence, may encourage us to be creative in our intelligence, but that is all it can do.

R.I.P. Gore Vidal

No sooner do I mention him in my little comment on Mencken and Gore Vidal dies.  He succumbed to age and that which it seems is often the end of the aged, pneumonia. 

He was a celebrity, of course, and in that sense was not remarkable except for his acidity.  He didn't seem to care whether he pleased or not when he acted in that capacity, appearing on television talk shows, primarily, and for that indifference he must be honored--generally, celebrities are tiresome in their zeal to evoke pleasure in their audience.  He is of course remembered for his "debates" with William F. Buckley, Jr. during the 1968 Democratic convention in my beloved Chicago.  I vaguely remember watching those, and feeling pity for Howard K. Smith, the amiable but overwhelmed moderator.  Neither Vidal nor Buckley benefited from that encounter; both were probably at their worst.  Vidal of course later mocked Buckley through the device of William de la Touche Clancy, a character who now and then would appear in Vidal's wonderful series of novels of American history commencing with Burr.  Clancy was the editor of a right-wing publication and a notorious pederast.  Vidal had very well known encounters with Norman Mailer as well.

Regardless of his celebrity status, however, he was in fact quite remarkable as a writer and stylist, in my opinion at least.  His writing was generally elegant and insightful and distinguished by a magnificently dry wit.  He wrote enchanting novels--historical novels in particular (my favorite being Julian).  He is, with Patrick O'Brian and Mary Renault, one of the best writers of historical novels I've ever read.

But he was especially able, I think, as an essayist and critic.  He may well be the last of the great essayists.  In this age of Twitter, and, yes, blogs, none of us seems capable of extended thought; our technology doesn't encourage it, and in fact discourages it.  He had lapses, it's true.  At least as he grew older, he seemed to either indulge in or propound conspiracy theories regarding Pearl Harbor, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and what we have chosen to call 9/11.  I've always wondered, though, whether he was pulling our collective leg when he wrote such things.

He seemed to know lawyers (good ones, I mean) quite well.  I'm not sure why he knew them well, but I judge this to be the case by his characterization of them in his novels, and specifically his portrayal of the proceedings in the case of the United States v. Aaron Burr.  He also seemed to know politicians quite well, and this is unsurprising as he was part of a political family, and actually ran for office himself.

He was also a critic of American interventions, military and otherwise, in the affairs of other nations, which I think sensible in most cases.  He seemed to long for the time when the United States was not an imperial world power, which would I think take us back to before the Spanish-American war (although the Mexican-American war was a most egregious land-grab and a shameful enterprise as noted by one U.S. Grant).

Unless there is some change in the way our culture seems to be heading, I doubt we will see his like as a writer again.  Christopher Hitchens is the only one I can think of who (recently) could write as well, and they fell out, perhaps inevitably.  But I'm a pessimist, and my feeling that we have become a society too concerned to speak, think, write and emote as quickly and briefly as possible may be unwarranted.  I hope that's the case.

Homage to H. L. Mencken

I've been reading the series of articles, or columns, or editorials the Sage of Baltimore wrote for The Baltimore Evening Sun regarding the Scopes trial.  They evoke admiration and wonder--admiration for the author, wonder that so little has changed in our great land since 1925.

They're part of a book of his works graced by an Introduction written by Gore Vidal, another formidable writer, written it appears during the administration of the second Bush.  Vidal admires Mencken as well, which is no small thing as Vidal is generally sparing in his praise.  That admiration is not unqualified, however, and neither is mine.

Mencken is a joy to read, though he had his faults.  One of them in my opinion was his fondness for Nietzsche, and he was somewhat less a fan of democracy than I am (which is not unexpected given his fondness for Nietzsche) and of women.  But he always wrote well, wittily and intelligently which is a marvelous thing in a journalist, regarding a vast variety of topics.  One can't help but compare him with the journalists of today, and sigh.

He wrote wittily and intelligently regarding the Scopes trial, but didn't try to hide his "bias" in favor of the defense (one of the things Vidal writes of in his Introduction is the grim and ever increasing tendency of critics of thought in these dark days to ferret out any hint of bias in speech and the written word).  He is particularly hard on William Jennings Bryan (the "old mountebank" as he refers to him).  He heaps disdain upon him, an old, spent force at the time, though it is hard not to understand why given his declamation that humans are not mammals and the other antics he and the proponents of the prosecution engaged in throughout those hot summer days in Dayton, Tennessee.

If Mencken's version of events is correct, even accounting for witty exaggeration, the proceedings were indeed farcical.  The lawyers of the local bar, and even of Tennessee generally, don't come out looking particularly well (not to mention the presiding Judge), nor do the politicians of the state.  All are either in fear of or in thrall to those who took Genesis literally and expected others to do so as well.  Mencken was, of course, a notorious freethinker.  He describes visiting a kind of revival or tent show at night in which the zealous spoke in tongues.  In those far off times when I was in high school, I visited a gathering of Pentecostals in which tongues were spoken, and I was disturbingly reminded of the experience as I read what Mencken describes as a "religious orgy."  What I attended was not nearly as riotous as the event he witnessed, but it was oddly frightening in its own way.  Some people spoke what seemed gibberish and others translated it into unsurprisingly biblical sounding English.

Mencken was a pessimist, but he indulged in a bit of optimism writing at the end of the proceedings.  He felt the scorn with which Tennessee was apparently treated as a result of the trial would ultimately lead it to become more enlightened as he would have it.  I wonder what he would feel, and write, now as Tennessee adopted anti-evolution legislation of a somewhat more sophisticated kind in 2011.

He might be inclined to speculate on just what it is that drives certain Americans (and only Americans, it seems) to legislate against the teaching of science in their schools, or more precisely the teaching of any theory which appears to be contrary to treasured religious beliefs.  The Catholic Church doesn't indulge in this fantastic limitation on thought any longer, so it would appear to be a kind of function of American Protestantism.  Presumably, such legislation is motivated by fear that the young will become in some fashion irreligious as a result of the teaching of evolution.  But religion need not be inconsistent with evolution, or science.  Only particular kinds of religion have much to fear from them.

Will there be similar laws in the next century, here in our great Republic?

Massacres, Morals and the Law

Another massacre in America; another man (they seem to be white, for the most part if not exclusively) very well armed and determined to kill many people, for reasons unclear.  This one was not inclined to kill himself, however.  That may or may not be a benefit, in the long run.  If it provides us with information regarding why we have people so despicable and uncontrolled they are inclined to kill because they are in some sense unhappy, this may be useful.  But there are moments when capital punishment makes a kind of furious sense.  It would not be unfortunate if this man had died, and would have been fortunate if he had died sooner.  No loss, really, if he had died.  In fact a gain if he had died, before.  This is the simple truth.  No amount of fond hopes of rehabilitation makes it untrue.

Are we too accustomed to these events?  Observing the media, politicians and pundits react to this one I'm inclined to think we are.  The responses are disturbingly predictable.  If evil is not banal, there is a banality to our responses to evil.

Inevitably, the question of guns and the law arises.  We're told that guns don't kill people, people do.  This position, taken by such as the NRA and proponents of the Second Amendment, came to my mind with respect to the "Fast and Furious" scandal playing itself out on our riotous national stage.  If the guns of the administration killed someone, and those responsible for providing those guns should pay for it, how maintain that other guns don't kill people, and thus there is no need to regulate them or blame those who provide them?  Don't politicians think of such things?  Many of them are lawyers, and lawyers think now and then, or at least do so when considering an argument.  For money, it's true.  Perhaps those politician-lawyers attacking AG Holder were not being paid, for once.

I've noted before in this blog that guns hold little attraction for me.  I would not care if we had none.  I would not care if we had them and did not use them, even to kill harmless animals for what is oddly called "sport."  I think killing animals with guns is unworthy, but have no desire to deprive hunters of their guns.  If we assume we have a right to bear them, though, it doesn't follow that we have a right to bear any kind of gun or any number of them, and that the acquisition of particular weapons, at least, should not be limited or at least raise questions.  What does one purchase an assault rifle and thousands of rounds of ammunition for, one wonders (or should wonder).  To discourage the government from taking them, or our other guns, or in the event government seeks to further control us?  The idea of fighting against government incursions is a fantasy, rather like the Batman film which may or may not have played a part in the fantasies of this shooter. 

Regulation of certain weapons makes sense to me, therefore, because they serve no purpose but to kill and kill many, and I have problems considering this as some kind of right.  However, the claim that weapons themselves don't kill has a certain validity.  Merely regulating weapons more than we do will not prevent such as this shooter from wrecking havoc in the future.

And so we don't limit ourselves to debates regarding laws, but address what are called social ills, and their effects on individuals.  And among those debates will be debates regarding the lack of morals (particularly as a young man is involved) which will inevitably turn into debates regarding lack of religion.

Assume there is a connection between religion and morals.  Do we compel our fellow citizens to be religious?  That's a bit of a problem there also, from the constitutional and other perspectives.  We are prohibited from teaching religion as well, at least in public schools.  Do we amend the constitution for this purpose?  Some may want to, or at least may want to interpret the Constitution to allow the teaching of a kind of general religion, nondenominational I suppose, but no doubt unthreateningly Christian, in our schools.

Plato, I think, if he accomplished anything kicked the legs if not the Ideal Form of Legs from under the contention that a belief in God is required for there to be morality.  As a consequence, I think we can teach morality in public schools, just as we can teach how to think, without worrying about the ACLU (unless, of course, it believes that religion and morality are one and the same).  Given our population, there will always be lunatics to contend with; there always have been, so far as we know.  Perhaps ethics and logic should be added to our curriculum, early.  It would have to be done carefully, and could not be complete, but teaching responsibility, honesty, respect for others, the ability to think critically may be possible and useful. 

We should be able to agree that at least certain of what have been called virtues are beneficial to us all, and take steps to inculcate them.  Who knows, perhaps even philosophers may agree to such a thing--outside the philosophy classroom, of course, just as they agree, judging from their behavior, when not on the job with so much else they dispute among themselves.

Things in our Control

The Stoic dictum that we should concern ourselves with things in our control, and not with those outside of our control is wise, but demanding.  Perhaps too demanding.  Initially, it seems, all that is beyond our control was to be considered indifferent.  Wisely as well, I think, the absolute nature of this directive was qualified.  Certain of the Stoics began to note distinctions in the vast multitude of things seemingly beyond our control.  Some of them therefore came to be considered worthy subjects of concern, or at least of more concern than others.

These included matters related to health of the body, for example.  The tendency of ancient philosophers (and some not so ancient, unfortunately) to distinguish between mind and body, which was carried over into Christianity and beyond, made concern with the body seem unimportant.  However, the rather intimate relation between what was considered mind and what was considered body eventually compelled Stoics and others to recognize that problems with the one could result in problems with the other, and so a concern with health became, however grudgingly, considered as more than a matter of complete indifference.

Human nature has always presented problems for systems of thought which seek to establish finality, certainty, single causes, single goals, single truths.  The same may be said of all of nature.  This is because we humans, and the rest of the universe we inhabit, are far more complex than we like to think.  It's odd that the "quest for certainty" is often associated with religions or the religious.  One would think that the belief in a great, all-powerful and all-knowing creator would instill in us a recognition of our own limitations, including limits on our knowledge and ability to know.  In certain instances it does, but those instances seem to involve only the recognition by some of us of the glaring limitations of others.  Such is the extent of our self-conceit that we assume God has created the universe and formulated a purpose for it and us obvious enough for us to discern, and indeed made it in such a fashion peculiar enough that we humans are destined to rule over it.

This view can make even the supposedly humble seem breathtakingly arrogant.  Someone decided to make audio books of some of Chesterton's Father Brown stories, and I've heard them now and then through the good offices of satellite radio as I drive about.  It may be that it is the manner of the actor portraying the good priest, but I'm struck by the smugness of the character far more than I was when I read the stories.  Chesterton himself shared this smugness, of course.  Smugness is not a characteristic of the humble or of those who acknowledge their own limitations.

Which brings us back to things in our control, and things out of our control.  Even when qualified, this is a consideration which requires a recognition of our limitations; of what we can and cannot do, and the futility and indeed destructive nature of an excessive concern with people and things which we can't shape to our desires.  It may be said to be the first step towards practical wisdom.  Stoicism is in many senses a therapeutic philosophy, as it seems has become known to psychologists who have noted similarities between it and cognitive behavioral therapy.  Ultimately, to the extent we can control things that control is limited.  But this control implies responsibility as well as the acknowledgement of our limits.  Because we can control ourselves we are responsible for ourselves and our conduct; we should not blame our conduct on what we cannot control just as we should not base our conduct on what we cannot control.

Carl Sandburg's Chicago and Mine

I was sitting drinking shots of vodka at Russian Tea Time on Adams in the Loop, and old Carl and his poem came to mind, for reasons not entirely clear to me.  No longer Hog Butcher to the world, perhaps, but I think Chicago remains in large part how Sandburg described it to be.  Somewhat more sophisticated, I think, than it was in his time, but still very much an elemental city with very little pretense except in power and money though it is a city with a history of prominence in literature and architecture and other things.  Sandburg is a part of that history, of course, as is Saul Bellow and Studs Terkel (not a particular favorite of mine); Hemingway did some time here, Ray Bradbury, Edgar Rice Burroughs for God's sake, Philip K. Dick, Raymond Chandler.  John Dewey and Jane Addams among the philosophers/thinkers.

It's still a tough city as well.  I'm only a frequent visitor now, though it is my hometown, and have watched it change over the years.  The number of homeless seems to be increasing.  They stake out their territories on Michigan and State and Wabash and other streets in the Loop and River North where I generally hang out, and rattle what change they have in paper cups, seeking more from those who wander about and who, like me I must admit, generally ignore them as best they can.  Familiarity breeds insensibility if not contempt.  Oddly, the more there are the less compelling they become.

There was an old radio show called "The Whistler."   It's narrator "walked by night" and thereby saw "many things" which were usually nefarious.  Apparently, he whistled while he did so; a rather awkward, atonal little tune was whistled during the introduction and after commercial breaks.  I walk by night as well about this area of Chicago, but also by day, and like to observe the people.  It makes me think about the city and people like Sandburg and other things, though truth be told my observational skills are with some frequency dulled by alcohol.  That particular substance enlivens thought, however, or at least seems to do so which may amount to much the same thing.

It can also make one sentimental and maudlin, angry but also content.  I've been all those things during this visit and others, and have seen many things though none of them are particularly nefarious.  Mostly I see people who become younger as I grow older and are among friends and have money to spend and spend it as I do on food and drink, but it may be they fail to observe and most of all to think as they are in thrall to the game of impressing their friends if not themselves.  There are few I'm interested in impressing these days, though that may be due not to wisdom but instead to realism--which of course can be a kind of sad wisdom. 

There is something which gives one pause, sitting at a bar which you know your father sat once when he was a young man, (the Berghoff bar, also on Adams) and where famous people now long dead drank as you do, and thought something if not what you think.  Memento mori, perhaps, or omnia vanitas; or, somewhat less of a pause to be given, eat, drink and be merry, as we may read with some surprise in the Bible.

I'm pleased to report I haven't begun whistling, though.  Not yet.

Supremely Confusing

The Supremes have issued their long-awaited decision regarding the Affordable Care Act, and we hear lamentations from the Republicans and praise from the Democrats, pontifications from pundits, and little else.  It has been a long and depressing process for anyone of sense, I believe, and one can't help but feel glad it's over, regardless of the outcome.  In these dark times, the hyperbolic responses of those on the Right are predictable but still disturbing.  How this era (O tempora!) cries out for calm deliberation.

It is quite correct for the majority to note that courts have no business assessing policy, and should not indulge in questioning the wisdom of legislation.  The majority also appropriately rejected the rather tortured effort to justify the individual manadate under the Commerce Clause.  This was in my opinion what is being called these days "a nonstarter."  A clumsy word employed increasingly in our dundering, heavy-handed society.  Far too infrequently, even the law meshes with common sense, and the claim that citizens of our Glorious Republic may be induced under threat of penalty to engage in commerce by Congress through its power to regulate commerce defies common sense just as much as legal precedent.  So, kudos to the majority for noting this and ruling accordingly.

I'm less comfortable, though, with its determination that what has consistently been called a penalty (and is still being called a penalty by the White House in spite of the Court's decision) is nonetheless a tax, and when considered as such is a constitutional exercise of the Congress' taxing power.  But I suppose the majority takes the position that this is an instance where the law simply does not mesh with common sense.

Those who supported and voted for the law presumably were loath to describe the mandate as a tax due to the fact that the mere thought of a tax sends many of us into a frenzy.  So it's likely that it has never been (and still is not) described as a tax for political reasons, which given the current climate is all the reason our politicians require, or respect.  Nevertheless, there are diffences in the law between a penalty and a tax, and those differences can be significant.  For example, those differences may, as in this case, establish whether or not a law is constitutional.

The law is certainly best defended as a tax.  Our government has successfully taxed all manner of things, and the courts hesitate to declare them unlawful.  I find it hard to understand why the law was not adopted as an exercise of the taxing power in the first place.  We're regularly taxed "for our own good" despite the fact we don't want to be--sometimes, the tax really is for our own good.  But I suppose this is to make the error of thinking like a lawyer, not like a politician (or I suppose I should say like a politician who is also a lawyer, or was one, at least; there are so many of these unnatural creatures).

Another odd thing regarding the outcome of the decision if not the decision itself is the speculation being indulged in to the effect that the Chief Justice sided with the majority because he wanted to "save" the Court from being politicized.  This is a kind of fantasy, I believe, which is probably only briefly entrancing some of our pundits, who think that Justices Scalia and Thomas are far too political.  But the Court has always been political, as have many of the Justices of the past (Douglas comes most immediately to mind as a politically liberal Justice).  I tend to think the Justices, and their close relatives, should keep their mouths and their wallets shut myself particularly as to matters which have or likely will come before them.  But this kind of wisdom and dignity is not to be expected today, and perhaps has never existed.

The decision is a curious, confusing thing.

An Old Chaos of the Sun

We live in that old chaos, said Wallace Stevens in his poem Sunday Morning.  Is that enough for us?  That seems to be the question debated somewhat leisurely in that work, but profoundly enough, even with coffee and oranges.

There's nothing complacent about that debate.  That it even takes place in the manner it does establishes that the poem is of the 20th century.  The rather disturbingly dramatic pathos displayed by certain artists and thinkers of the 19th century in the face of the realization that we humans may not be the special favorites of the divine isn't evident.  I think of the histrionics of the characters of Dostoevsky and the yapping of Nietzsche and can't help but feel embarrassed.  Despair and defiance seem childish responses to the vastness of the universe and our tiny place in it.  In Stevens' poem we have cool appraisal of our "predicament."  We are, at least, adults in the universe, if only temporarily.

Do we need paradise?  Is this world enough for us, or are we fated to long for something more, something not just better but best?   Some of us at least seem to need the best; perhaps even some of us expect it as our due.  So we look for it or forward to it.  Heaven or higher knowledge, good or beauty, beyond that available to us in this world which we refuse to accept despite the fact that we are so completely a part of it, one kind of organism among many.  We're much more sophisticated than the others we know of so far, it's true; we may find we are much less sophisticated than others we become aware of in the future.  Will they be more privileged than we humans as a result and have a greater claim to God's favor?

Our belief we're exceptional has rendered us monotonous.  Although we should know better now as we understand we are not the center of the universe and that it does not revolve around us for our delight we make the same assumptions and ask the same questions we did when we thought that way from ignorance.  To a great extent, we come to the same answers, or no answers at all.

I think Stevens in his poem comes to the conclusion that the world is indeed enough, or should be.  Perhaps that's what he and Hemingway fought about that drunken evening in Key West.  In any case, that seems to be the adult response.  Neither despair nor defiance is reasonable.  If there is more than this, it's likely it will be another version or aspect of this (the universe).  If there is something that is not a part of the universe, to which we will have access, it is necessarily unknown to us now.  We can only know that which we can know and we can only know what we have experienced or others have and told us about.  We may feel what we call transcendence, but feeling it we feel whatever it is as parts of the universe and thus it is part of the universe as well.

The universe is remarkable indeed; we may never be done exploring it.  Understanding it and our part in it is a monumental task, but it is a task we can engage in and we can progress in that task in a manner which is measurable.  Paradise is something we can't attain in this life, but we can obtain and accomplish some things, and should do so.

The Best Government Money Can Buy

We had it, according to Mark Twain, quite some time ago, and will have it again.  He could be amusing at times, could old Sam, and perceptive as well when he was not pandering to his readers by commenting buffoonishly on noisy, dirty, smelly foreigners in such works as Innocents Abroad (I was reminded of this sad characteristic while reading Mencken's fine essay on Puritanism in American literature).

That Twain felt we had in his time such a government reminds us that things are not all that different, our Supreme Court's decision in Citizens United notwithstanding.  I can't but feel that there lurks in liberal criticism of that decision a petulance born of the belief that there are simply not enough liberally-minded corporations readily available to foot Democratic bills as there are conservative ones to pay for Republican campaigns.  Regardless, though, it is always a concern when money figures so prominently in the election of officials of any kind.  It's not clear to me, however, that the view of the majority of the Supremes that corporations are people for purposes of free speech as well as for other purposes adds that much to the corruption of our politics.

Of greater concern I think is the rejection of limitations on financial contributions to the efforts of our leaders and those who wish to lead us to induce us to vote for them or those things they hold dear.  Corporations have been treated as persons in the law for so many years for so many reasons that maintaining they are not for other, particular purposes is somewhat awkward.  Limiting financial contributions is relatively clear and simple, would likely reduce the opportunity for corruption and would seem to have no clear adverse impact of any significant kind.  It may make it more difficult for our politicians and their minions to bombard us with increasingly trite, simplistic and hyperbolic propaganda, but this would not be a bad thing.


This brings us to the rather perplexing view which is translated into the phrase that "money is speech."  It clearly is not in itself.  It can, though, facilitate the ability of some not only to speak, but to speak very loudly and frequently in many different locations to many people.  Is this facilitation itself free speech, to be accorded constitutional protection?


Consider the law applicable to restrictions on the constitutional right to free speech.  Consider, in other words, those circumstances in which it has been held that government has wrongfully limited that right.  I think it would be accurate to state that money is not often a factor, except to the extent that it somehow figures in action which results in the prohibition or limitation of speech itself.  That unconstitutional limitation rightfully relates to the content of speech or the act of speaking, however, not to the quantity of speech.

If one is prohibited from saying something by government, or speaking at all, that is or should be significant in the law.  If one is prohibited not from saying something, but from having access to unlimited amounts of money from particular donors which will allow you to say it again and again, at all times and in all places through media of all kinds, and hiring professionals to say that something in the most persuasive manner, that is or should be something quite different as far as the law is concerned.

Of course, we can only truly avoid being led by the nose by our politicians and their lackeys by thinking analytically.  But that would mean spending money on educating people to do so.  That wouldn't make money thought, but it would be a thoughtful use of money (I should never have read Chesterton; I can't avoid these cloying little gibes at times, and blame it all on him).  Unfortunately, thinking is often something those who have the money would rather we not do.