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.