The late Hunter S. Thompson described our Great Republic as "The Kingdom of Fear" in the title of a book he wrote, and also in a song he co-wrote with the equally late Warren Zevon which appeared in his fatefully titled album My Ride's Here. More and more, we seem to become that place. Worse yet, perhaps, we're in active search of a King of our kingdom.
It's not the first time, I suppose. FDR's claim we have nothing to fear but fear itself was made during a fearful time for our nation. But the fear which now seems to define us is different from that we felt during the Great Depression. That's my speculation, of course, and nothing more. I didn't live through the Great Depression. My parents did, and I know of it only through what they said and what I've read.
But I think it's reasonable to say that what we fear now is different from the fear one feels when there is no money or even food to feed ourselves or those we love. There's no question there are things to fear now, and they are serious things. But the fear too many of us feel is of other, different, people, and too often is of difference itself, which is to say of anything with which we're unfamiliar or uncomfortable. And in this case our "leaders" (such as they are) unlike FDR are telling us we should be afraid; they urge us to feel fear and act on that fear.
It happens that they often do so to benefit themselves. This is unsurprising in politicians and pundits, but contemptible nonetheless. But it's dangerous as well because as I noted in a prior post, fear is an idiot (to quote Ambrose Bierce). Fear, in other words, makes us stupid.
We happen to have quite a few guns here in God's favorite country. I have a couple of "long guns" myself. I don't carry them about with me, though I've heard of some cases where men do so, brandishing them proudly in fast food places and supermarkets. It takes a peculiar kind of person to indulge in such displays, I believe, particularly with a rifle or shotgun. I saw a man wearing a handgun on his hip at a restaurant not long ago.
If I speculate why someone who isn't in law enforcement or engaged in hunting or shooting sports would carry a gun of any kind in public, and particularly in public establishments where other people eat or shop or congregate for any reason, I find it hard not to conclude that it is out of unreasonable fear, or due to the fond hope that they may use it in some manner in an heroic fashion, killing or maiming one of the many bad guys who haunt our thought and, we are being told, must defend ourselves against. It occurs to me that people who are afraid, or looking for a chance to use a gun, are best off not carrying them around in public. At least, others are better off if they don't.
Fear begets a number of other unpleasant things. It of course begets fear itself--in my case, fear of those who encourage fear among us--but also hate, anger and generally a thoughtless response to circumstances. This was of course a fairly common subject of episodes of The Twilight Zone. Rod Serling taught us nothing, it seems. Was Serling's time more like ours than the time of the Great Depression? The Communist scare may be comparable. We were afraid of commies lurking unknown among us. But now those who should frighten us according to those who delight in telling us what to do and think are identified more easily.
It's difficult to see fear in others, except when we're face to face. It's easier, though, to see hate and anger and conduct caused by fear. Unfortunately, we see these things more and more, if not on our TVs, smart phones, tablets and other devices then in our daily lives. We're all angry at something as far as I can tell, and our anger is in front of us, and related by us to others, thanks to our technology, front and center 24/7 as we've been taught to say. The Republican National Convention, sadly, was a kind of celebration of fear and its effects, a festival of it in fact. We'll see more as this agonizing, endless presidential campaign winds down.
Fear may motivate us to address our problems but it is useless and even destructive in solving them. The Kingdom of Fear will be brutish, intolerant, quick to react to any slight, real or imagined, but also cautious in the extreme when it comes to change of any kind and the unfamiliar. It will seek scapegoats. It will shut its gates. It will be an unhappy place, filled with people who will find no comfort, being fearful. There are those who long for this kingdom. "Dangerous creeps are everywhere" according to the lyrics of the song Thompson and Zevon wrote. They were right.
Friday, July 29, 2016
Monday, July 25, 2016
Homage to Stephen Crane
He was 28 when he died, at a health spa in the Black Forest of Germany. What had we achieved by that age, reader? For my part, very little. Perhaps you achieved more, or much. But it's his age at death that makes him most remarkable, in light of what he did in his short life.
I wonder if they still make students read The Red Badge of Courage in high school. It was during that four year--what?--that I read it. I suppose that by making us do so at the time, it was intended in some respect to honor Crane. I think that requiring books to be read during those years does an author a disservice. It's difficult to enjoy or appreciate a book one is required to read. But I suppose something else was intended as well, enjoyment and appreciation not being something to be expected by high school students in their studies, at least.
That particular work of Crane made quite a stir when published. It was, for the time, a different depiction of war. It's difficult to think of any other depiction in novels of the same sort up until then. Ambrose Bierce served in the Civil War and wrote some striking short stories about it, but such as Tolstoy were too busy making grand moral points or indulging in Romantic fantasies to do it what can be called justice. Unlike Bierce, however, Crane had never experienced war when he wrote that book. It was entirely a work of his imagination, though considered by most to be unusual in its realism. Crane experienced war subsequently in his capacity as a newspaper correspondent, "embedded" as we (curiously) say now with soldiers fighting the Greco-Turkish and Spanish-American wars.
I remember the words "realism" and "naturalism" associated with his works. I read now that "impressionism" is associated with them as well. It's difficult for a mere reader like myself to keep track of literary categorizations, let alone understand them. But certainly he wrote of things that took place in life and that were not evidently such as it would be unlikely to encounter in life. He's been compared, I see, with the prolix Emerson and the less prolix Thoreau among American writers. I don't see it, really, especially the comparison with Emerson. Crane was far too direct and spare an author to be compared with Emerson, who bloviated on many things; too many things, in fact. One can understand why Hemingway thought well of him. Now and then, Hemingway seems to have expressed admiration for certain writers already dead. Hemingway thought well of Henry James and Mark Twain also.
Twain is an author I was also forced to read in high school and so neither enjoyed nor appreciated at the time. I revisited him later, and alas was unimpressed. That's not the case with Crane. I confess I've paid no attention to James. Perhaps I'm unduly concerned as it's been claimed that he wrote novels like a philosopher, while his brother William wrote philosophy like a novelist. The thought of a philosopher writing a novel troubles me.
I think Crane was at his best writing short stories. The Monster, The Blue Hotel, The Open Boat are certainly among the best I've read. Short stories have an unfortunate reputation. It seems to me that they're not taken seriously enough; all are looking to write or read The Great Novel. Novels invite excess, however, and imprecision; or so it's seemed to me, and I've read my share of them. Unless, that is, their chapters are written as short stories themselves, as a kind of serial or series of scenes in the life of a person or event.
With apologies to such as Chekov and others, I think it may be said that American authors have written the finest short stories, and it may also be said (by me at least) that this is to be expected. American civilization isn't quite what Oscar Wilde claimed it to be (nonexistent) but it doesn't seem to encourage extended reflection or effort on any particular thing, and this would be a prerequisite for creating a novel.
I'm not a fan of Crane's poetry. His poetry makes him appear immature, while his prose does not. His prose was innovative in a way we can't understand now, being used to Hemingway and others who succeeded in extending its precision and simplicity in description. I'm old now, or old enough, and am astonished he wrote as he did and by what he did so young. Certain geniuses (Mozart, Schubert come to mind in music) are at once prolific and intensely focused, and are enduringly special and unique as a result. Crane was one of them.
I wonder if they still make students read The Red Badge of Courage in high school. It was during that four year--what?--that I read it. I suppose that by making us do so at the time, it was intended in some respect to honor Crane. I think that requiring books to be read during those years does an author a disservice. It's difficult to enjoy or appreciate a book one is required to read. But I suppose something else was intended as well, enjoyment and appreciation not being something to be expected by high school students in their studies, at least.
That particular work of Crane made quite a stir when published. It was, for the time, a different depiction of war. It's difficult to think of any other depiction in novels of the same sort up until then. Ambrose Bierce served in the Civil War and wrote some striking short stories about it, but such as Tolstoy were too busy making grand moral points or indulging in Romantic fantasies to do it what can be called justice. Unlike Bierce, however, Crane had never experienced war when he wrote that book. It was entirely a work of his imagination, though considered by most to be unusual in its realism. Crane experienced war subsequently in his capacity as a newspaper correspondent, "embedded" as we (curiously) say now with soldiers fighting the Greco-Turkish and Spanish-American wars.
I remember the words "realism" and "naturalism" associated with his works. I read now that "impressionism" is associated with them as well. It's difficult for a mere reader like myself to keep track of literary categorizations, let alone understand them. But certainly he wrote of things that took place in life and that were not evidently such as it would be unlikely to encounter in life. He's been compared, I see, with the prolix Emerson and the less prolix Thoreau among American writers. I don't see it, really, especially the comparison with Emerson. Crane was far too direct and spare an author to be compared with Emerson, who bloviated on many things; too many things, in fact. One can understand why Hemingway thought well of him. Now and then, Hemingway seems to have expressed admiration for certain writers already dead. Hemingway thought well of Henry James and Mark Twain also.
Twain is an author I was also forced to read in high school and so neither enjoyed nor appreciated at the time. I revisited him later, and alas was unimpressed. That's not the case with Crane. I confess I've paid no attention to James. Perhaps I'm unduly concerned as it's been claimed that he wrote novels like a philosopher, while his brother William wrote philosophy like a novelist. The thought of a philosopher writing a novel troubles me.
I think Crane was at his best writing short stories. The Monster, The Blue Hotel, The Open Boat are certainly among the best I've read. Short stories have an unfortunate reputation. It seems to me that they're not taken seriously enough; all are looking to write or read The Great Novel. Novels invite excess, however, and imprecision; or so it's seemed to me, and I've read my share of them. Unless, that is, their chapters are written as short stories themselves, as a kind of serial or series of scenes in the life of a person or event.
With apologies to such as Chekov and others, I think it may be said that American authors have written the finest short stories, and it may also be said (by me at least) that this is to be expected. American civilization isn't quite what Oscar Wilde claimed it to be (nonexistent) but it doesn't seem to encourage extended reflection or effort on any particular thing, and this would be a prerequisite for creating a novel.
I'm not a fan of Crane's poetry. His poetry makes him appear immature, while his prose does not. His prose was innovative in a way we can't understand now, being used to Hemingway and others who succeeded in extending its precision and simplicity in description. I'm old now, or old enough, and am astonished he wrote as he did and by what he did so young. Certain geniuses (Mozart, Schubert come to mind in music) are at once prolific and intensely focused, and are enduringly special and unique as a result. Crane was one of them.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
How Not to Do Things with Words: "Black Lives Matter"
The title to this post is a little play on the title of a work of the philosopher J.L. Austin called How to Do Things with Words. What prompts me to write it are the antics of the unfortunate Mr. Trump, the maudlin Mr. Beck, and the increasingly squirrelly Mr. Giuliani and others regarding the name of and the movement known as "Black Lives Matter." It's their commentary on the name or the words which make it up which I find particularly interesting. Their commentary seems to me to be a kind of rhetoric we hear all too often in these grim times from politicians and pundits of all breeds (the comparison with animals we breed is intended, I'm afraid; this particular kind is fed on our money, but sadly we don't benefit from them as we do from other livestock).
What we hear is that the name "Black Lives Matter" is inherently racist. The use of the word "inherently" in this case is odd, words and names not normally being "inherently" anything but words and names. Something is inherent in someone or thing when it is essential to it, a primary quality of it, one of its elements. Words and names, if they're racist, are more probably considered racist because they're used by particular people in particular ways except in extraordinary circumstances. That of course is to say that they're not "inherently racist" in almost all cases. The words in question in this case are not separately or taken together inherently racist in any respect.
I'd like to credit those making this claim with sufficient intelligence to know this is the case, though I do wonder, sometimes. I doubt they actually mean "inherently," in other words. They may not know what it means, however, to say that the name "Black Lives Matter" is inherently racist. It is impossible to overestimate the ignorance of our politicians and pundits in certain matters.
They seem to take the position that when one says "black lives matter" one necessarily claims that lives which are not black lives don't matter. There is no other way to explain their contention in response that "all lives matter" or their apparent outrage at the name/phrase. But it's very clear that it doesn't follow that by saying that black lives matter one is saying that those are the only lives that matter. It's simply to say that black lives matter.
It doesn't require much in the way of thought to recognize that the name, and the "movement" as it's called, have their basis in the belief that law enforcement doesn't think that black lives matter; the belief that certain police have such disregard of black people or hatred of them that they either don't care if those lives are taken and by them, or want to take those lives when they can. In other words, the name is in response to what seems to those who use it a belief among law enforcement officers and others that, in fact, black lives don't matter, or don't matter as much as the lives of other people. Contrary to that belief it's claimed that black lives do matter.
Now it's to be presumed that none of the above individuals would say that black lives don't matter, so we have to think that isn't the cause of their problem with the name. Perhaps those who claim the name is inherently racist wouldn't be inclined to do so if the name was "Black Lives Matter as Much as Other Lives" or "Black Lives Matter Too." Anything is possible. The added words seem unnecessary except perhaps to the hypersensitive or dull, but I at least would have no problem if they were added and I doubt others would.
A cynic like me would think it possible that the claim being made about the name and the indignation and outrage associated with it are rhetorical tactics being used in an effort to discredit the movement. More likely, perhaps, the problem lies in a failure to think thoroughly about words and their use. Or perhaps a failure to think well generally. We don't do much thinking these days, or at least have no desire to think critically.
Those that make it this far in reading this post will be aware that I've said nothing about the movement or its actions, or the incidents referred to which are said to have caused the movement to exist. That, I think, would require much more knowledge and study on my part for me to comment on intelligently.
What we hear is that the name "Black Lives Matter" is inherently racist. The use of the word "inherently" in this case is odd, words and names not normally being "inherently" anything but words and names. Something is inherent in someone or thing when it is essential to it, a primary quality of it, one of its elements. Words and names, if they're racist, are more probably considered racist because they're used by particular people in particular ways except in extraordinary circumstances. That of course is to say that they're not "inherently racist" in almost all cases. The words in question in this case are not separately or taken together inherently racist in any respect.
I'd like to credit those making this claim with sufficient intelligence to know this is the case, though I do wonder, sometimes. I doubt they actually mean "inherently," in other words. They may not know what it means, however, to say that the name "Black Lives Matter" is inherently racist. It is impossible to overestimate the ignorance of our politicians and pundits in certain matters.
They seem to take the position that when one says "black lives matter" one necessarily claims that lives which are not black lives don't matter. There is no other way to explain their contention in response that "all lives matter" or their apparent outrage at the name/phrase. But it's very clear that it doesn't follow that by saying that black lives matter one is saying that those are the only lives that matter. It's simply to say that black lives matter.
It doesn't require much in the way of thought to recognize that the name, and the "movement" as it's called, have their basis in the belief that law enforcement doesn't think that black lives matter; the belief that certain police have such disregard of black people or hatred of them that they either don't care if those lives are taken and by them, or want to take those lives when they can. In other words, the name is in response to what seems to those who use it a belief among law enforcement officers and others that, in fact, black lives don't matter, or don't matter as much as the lives of other people. Contrary to that belief it's claimed that black lives do matter.
Now it's to be presumed that none of the above individuals would say that black lives don't matter, so we have to think that isn't the cause of their problem with the name. Perhaps those who claim the name is inherently racist wouldn't be inclined to do so if the name was "Black Lives Matter as Much as Other Lives" or "Black Lives Matter Too." Anything is possible. The added words seem unnecessary except perhaps to the hypersensitive or dull, but I at least would have no problem if they were added and I doubt others would.
A cynic like me would think it possible that the claim being made about the name and the indignation and outrage associated with it are rhetorical tactics being used in an effort to discredit the movement. More likely, perhaps, the problem lies in a failure to think thoroughly about words and their use. Or perhaps a failure to think well generally. We don't do much thinking these days, or at least have no desire to think critically.
Those that make it this far in reading this post will be aware that I've said nothing about the movement or its actions, or the incidents referred to which are said to have caused the movement to exist. That, I think, would require much more knowledge and study on my part for me to comment on intelligently.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Reflections on Independence Day, 2016
This post addresses the Fabulous Fourth, not the movie sequel, which it seems based on reviews is unworthy of reflection.
For two hundred and forty years, our Great Republic has existed and more or less thrived. Particularly in the last one hundred years, it has been a dominant if not the dominant nation of this Earth. The United States has been compared to ancient Rome for quite some time. That comparison has become commonplace. Those who make the comparison generally mean to condemn Rome if not us, or at least warn us to take care that the fate of our nation not be that of Rome. Let's indulge in the comparison for a brief time.
The First Punic War commenced in 264 B.C.E. Augustus established the principate in 27 B.C.E. During that period of time, Rome grew from a city which held sway over a good chunk of the Italian peninsula to the master of the Mediterranean world and most of Europe, successively defeating and destroying Carthage and the successors states formed from the dissolution of Alexander's empire. The United States has in a similar period done much the same, relatively speaking. This seems appropriate as Rome, or at least the Roman Republic, served as a model of sorts to the Founding Fathers as they created the U.S.
It's doubtful, though, that the Founders thought they were founding an empire like that of Rome. We have for the most part denied imperial ambitions at least though the presidency of Woodrow Wilson, though Wilson submitted meekly enough to the imperial ambitions of England and France, thus participating in the drafting of the Treaty of Versailles, reluctantly signed by many in 1919. Even before then, though, America had acquired by conquest the American West and a good part of the American East, Puerto Rico and the Philippines and other territories from Mexico, Spain and the indigenous people of North America. The U.S. managed to buy a great deal of land as well, through the good offices of Napoleon. So, if imperialism consists of the conquest of territory and its rule by the conquerors, it would seem that America has been de facto an imperial power.
So simplistically far, so simplistically good. So we carry on.
It's generally thought by many that the fall of Rome began when the Empire replaced the Republic. If that's so, however, then it was a long, slow fall. What's usually considered the end of the Empire in the West took place about five hundred years later, and the Empire in the East vanished about a thousand years after that (though it slowly became a very small empire). Moralists of all kinds seem to be unaware of or ignore the longevity of the decadent Roman Empire. If it fell due to the sexual and moral corruption they're fond of citing (usually by reference to Nero), we shall be lucky if we last as long no matter how we conduct ourselves or what God we choose to worship (and then ignore when it's convenient to do so, that being our usual practice).
It happens, though, that at its end the Roman Republic was dominated by several gifted and ambitious men, e.g. Caesar, Pompey, Crassus, Marcus Antonius, Cicero, Cato, Octavian the Augustus to be. Most of them weren't particularly moral in our sense, though Cato certainly was ostentatiously virtuous and Cicero at least contemplated what was and was not moral. Cicero, though, faulted Cato for his stubborn, uncompromising virtue, famously remarking that Cato thought he lived in Plato's Republic, not Romulus' shithole.
While America is full of ambitious men and women at this time, none seem particularly gifted, or moral for that matter. Given the civil wars which resulted from the conflicting desires of the great of the Roman Republic, perhaps we should be thankful for this lack of ability.
Unfortunately, though, it's ability that might make the difference in the type of empire America will become if it follows the path of Rome. Augustus, who created the Roman Empire, was a remarkably able politician. Our politicians are craven and venal and have been for some time, and it may be that the political success of a capering, stridently ignorant man indicates that in the future they'll be craven, venal and boisterously stupid as well.
It's amusing to indulge in comparisons of this kind. Overall and in the context of history I think the United States has done well in becoming what it is, but just what the future holds can't be predicted through the study of ancient Rome or any other Empire or nation.
There is one sense in which America now resembles old Rome, however, which may give us a hint as to our political future. Money was of great importance at the end of the Roman Republic; votes were bought, directly or indirectly. Roman politicians came from a restricted class, but required the support of the people at election time and treated them very generously in return for their support. Money dominates our politics now, as well.
The difference is that money isn't used as it was in ancient Rome, to pacify and reward common people for their support. It's used instead by the rich and powerful to pacify and reward politicians who require it to be elected. Perhaps this accounts for the quality of our politicians. It's demeaning to be, for all practical purposes, a lackey, a mere chattel in effect, of special interests, corporations, the very rich. It's demeaning to be a panderer, and an American politician must pander. What self-respecting, intelligent, able person could stand such a life?
Now, the votes of electors aren't bought; legislators and their votes are bought instead. It's hard to say which practice will promote a greater degree of corruption in a nation.
For two hundred and forty years, our Great Republic has existed and more or less thrived. Particularly in the last one hundred years, it has been a dominant if not the dominant nation of this Earth. The United States has been compared to ancient Rome for quite some time. That comparison has become commonplace. Those who make the comparison generally mean to condemn Rome if not us, or at least warn us to take care that the fate of our nation not be that of Rome. Let's indulge in the comparison for a brief time.
The First Punic War commenced in 264 B.C.E. Augustus established the principate in 27 B.C.E. During that period of time, Rome grew from a city which held sway over a good chunk of the Italian peninsula to the master of the Mediterranean world and most of Europe, successively defeating and destroying Carthage and the successors states formed from the dissolution of Alexander's empire. The United States has in a similar period done much the same, relatively speaking. This seems appropriate as Rome, or at least the Roman Republic, served as a model of sorts to the Founding Fathers as they created the U.S.
It's doubtful, though, that the Founders thought they were founding an empire like that of Rome. We have for the most part denied imperial ambitions at least though the presidency of Woodrow Wilson, though Wilson submitted meekly enough to the imperial ambitions of England and France, thus participating in the drafting of the Treaty of Versailles, reluctantly signed by many in 1919. Even before then, though, America had acquired by conquest the American West and a good part of the American East, Puerto Rico and the Philippines and other territories from Mexico, Spain and the indigenous people of North America. The U.S. managed to buy a great deal of land as well, through the good offices of Napoleon. So, if imperialism consists of the conquest of territory and its rule by the conquerors, it would seem that America has been de facto an imperial power.
So simplistically far, so simplistically good. So we carry on.
It's generally thought by many that the fall of Rome began when the Empire replaced the Republic. If that's so, however, then it was a long, slow fall. What's usually considered the end of the Empire in the West took place about five hundred years later, and the Empire in the East vanished about a thousand years after that (though it slowly became a very small empire). Moralists of all kinds seem to be unaware of or ignore the longevity of the decadent Roman Empire. If it fell due to the sexual and moral corruption they're fond of citing (usually by reference to Nero), we shall be lucky if we last as long no matter how we conduct ourselves or what God we choose to worship (and then ignore when it's convenient to do so, that being our usual practice).
It happens, though, that at its end the Roman Republic was dominated by several gifted and ambitious men, e.g. Caesar, Pompey, Crassus, Marcus Antonius, Cicero, Cato, Octavian the Augustus to be. Most of them weren't particularly moral in our sense, though Cato certainly was ostentatiously virtuous and Cicero at least contemplated what was and was not moral. Cicero, though, faulted Cato for his stubborn, uncompromising virtue, famously remarking that Cato thought he lived in Plato's Republic, not Romulus' shithole.
While America is full of ambitious men and women at this time, none seem particularly gifted, or moral for that matter. Given the civil wars which resulted from the conflicting desires of the great of the Roman Republic, perhaps we should be thankful for this lack of ability.
Unfortunately, though, it's ability that might make the difference in the type of empire America will become if it follows the path of Rome. Augustus, who created the Roman Empire, was a remarkably able politician. Our politicians are craven and venal and have been for some time, and it may be that the political success of a capering, stridently ignorant man indicates that in the future they'll be craven, venal and boisterously stupid as well.
It's amusing to indulge in comparisons of this kind. Overall and in the context of history I think the United States has done well in becoming what it is, but just what the future holds can't be predicted through the study of ancient Rome or any other Empire or nation.
There is one sense in which America now resembles old Rome, however, which may give us a hint as to our political future. Money was of great importance at the end of the Roman Republic; votes were bought, directly or indirectly. Roman politicians came from a restricted class, but required the support of the people at election time and treated them very generously in return for their support. Money dominates our politics now, as well.
The difference is that money isn't used as it was in ancient Rome, to pacify and reward common people for their support. It's used instead by the rich and powerful to pacify and reward politicians who require it to be elected. Perhaps this accounts for the quality of our politicians. It's demeaning to be, for all practical purposes, a lackey, a mere chattel in effect, of special interests, corporations, the very rich. It's demeaning to be a panderer, and an American politician must pander. What self-respecting, intelligent, able person could stand such a life?
Now, the votes of electors aren't bought; legislators and their votes are bought instead. It's hard to say which practice will promote a greater degree of corruption in a nation.
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