There's Something About "Hamilton"

There's something about it, I think, that would explain its success and also explain why I wonder at it...and its success.  I don't mean to say that as musical theatre goes, it's bad.  We speak after all of entertainment, and that which entertains always has a value unless it corrupts.  There is no corruption here.  There is, instead, an overwhelming but unsatisfying sincerity.

I should admit that historical inaccuracy concerns me.  So, for that matter, does incongruity unless it is humorous, as it is in the case of farce, for example.  One can argue that incongruity, inaccuracy and humor are to be expected when history is put on stage, and there is an element of truth in that argument.  But when they're combined with sincerity, a problem results.  It's not possible to be sincerely inaccurate.  It's possible to sincerely strive to make a point and to do so while being deliberately inaccurate, though.  Accuracy in that case is avoided in an effort to make a moral point, or to engage in propaganda.

Looked at as a piece of musical theatre of the Broadway type, I would describe that portion of it which precedes the intermission as manic.  I'm not a fan of rap, but would think that even a fan would recognize that an effort is being made to compress decades into an hour or so, and that this numbs the mind and the senses.  We seem to race through time; there are no stops, no pauses.  It's like listening to someone doing an extended drum roll.  After intermission, things slow down.  There are actual melodies, but to me there is nothing memorable in them.  Usually when exiting a musical I find I can remember one or two songs fairly well.  That was not the case, for me, with Hamilton.

The inaccuracies are more galling than outrageous.  For example, Hamilton (the person, I mean) participated in more than one duel.  The cause of one of them is addressed--the affair with Mrs. Reynolds.  Jefferson, Madison and Burr didn't confront Hamilton about his adultery, though.  James Monroe did, and Hamilton challenged Monroe to a duel over it.  Aaron Burr brought about a reconciliation between the two, however, and a duel was avoided.  Presumably, the creator felt it was necessary to concoct some confrontation that didn't take place, and say nothing of Burr's friendly efforts, but I have no idea why; unless it was to show Burr, Jefferson and Madison in a bad light.

Incongruity as humor, or farce, is evidenced in the person of George III, and he thereby became my favorite character as he was certainly the silliest.  I longed for the silly.  Incongruity as humorless, however, was evidenced by the fact that in the case of this particular performance, virtually every historical figure known to have been white was played by a black actor.  Is this wrong?  No, but it's inaccurate and incongruous.  One can't help but wonder what the reaction would be if white actors played historical figures known to be black.  I think it would have been exceedingly negative.  Why is it otherwise when black actors play white characters?  Certain actors no doubt are given opportunities they wouldn't normally have.  That is fine.  But it would seem to me to be better in trying to create opportunities to create new roles, new plays, rather than bringing history to the stage.

The sincerity of the effort can't be doubted, but sincerity can be deceiving, in the sense that it induces some to accept inaccuracies as accurate.  I can't help but wonder how many feel that what appears on stage here is all of it historically accurate.  They shouldn't, I know, as this is theatre, and for that reason I'm more annoyed by the inaccuracies than outraged by them.  But in depicting history we should strive to be accurate.  Otherwise, people like Oliver Stone are free to indulge in fantasy and portray it as history. 

Maybe I've read too much Santayana and Orwell, but I'm sensitive to games we play with history just as I'm sensitive to claims that history cannot be known, which itself encourages gaming.  But it can be known, to a reasonable degree of certainty, and must be known if we're to learn from it and know what we are and how we became what we are.

Hamilton is so popular that I assume what I write about it will be unpopular, if indeed it's read.  I don't begrudge it its popularity as a piece of theatre, though I found it less than overwhelming and not worth the ridiculously high price of admission.  I merely hope it's thought of as no more than that, and not as history especially.

Anachronism, Stupidity and Futility

Certain of the more self-righteous and, I think, tiresome students (and professors?) at some institutions of higher education in our Glorious Republic, who evidently are not preoccupied by their studies, have taken to demanding that the names and statues of significant historical figures be removed from sight.  At Princeton, for example, the name and likenesses of Woodrow Wilson offend them; at The College of William and Mary and apparently elsewhere, that of Thomas Jefferson should be purged, or so it's urged.  They were racists, you see.

It must be wondered whether The College of William and Mary should be required to change its name as well, as it's quite certain that both William and Mary were racists under the current definition. The George Washington University, of course, is particularly problematic. 

I should note that I'm not very fond of either Wilson or Jefferson.  Wilson was a pompous ass in many respects, an egotist and a pretentious one to boot.  Lloyd George and Clemenceau made him look like a fool at Versailles nonetheless.  His messianic conceits so annoyed those in Congress that most of his plans came to naught. By all rights he should have resigned due to his incapacity after his return to the United States, but instead allowed his wife to act as President.

Jefferson was without question a man of genius, but he was also without question a hypocrite of the highest order, who did his best to rule as a tyrant once he obtained the presidency.  Although himself adept at defamation, he objected to criticism of any kind, and at one point even sought to change the law so that truth was no defense to libel.  His conduct in the matter of Aaron Burr was reprehensible for its disregard of the law.

It happens they were also racist.  But while I dislike Wilson and Jefferson (and racism) I dislike anachronism as well, except sometimes in works of science fiction.

What is interesting about this interest in erasure of references to figures of the past is that but a short time ago, relatively speaking, all or most people were racist.  Many still are.  If all who were racist are unworthy of honor, then it's arguably the case that nobody except some of those who have been alive in the past 50 years are worthy of honor, because only certain of those people would not be deemed racist by those who employ that term now.  Though it may be a surprise to those who seek to purge college campuses at this time, racism isn't exclusively European in origin.  All peoples have, at one time or another, thought strangers inferior and contemptible.

So those qualities of Wilson and Jefferson which cause students to fume at this time were likely shared by everyone in recorded history, except some of those of the current generation and possibly some of the last generation. The question arises:  Is it appropriate to condemn all those who have ever lived, or at least not to display them on university grounds, except those who lived recently, because they failed to believe as some of us do now? 

Curiously, it's probable that those who presume to judge those of the past by the standards of the present wouldn't dream of judging those living now by any standard.  They've been taught not to judge.  At least, they've been taught not to judge those living now because they believe or think differently.   Differently, that is, from those who are European or of European descent, whom the naive believe are the only racists ever to live on this planet.

There's apparently something about the dead that renders them subject to judgment due to their failure to recognize what has only been recently recognized by we the living.  And we came to recognize the evil of racism only after a long, hard and continuing struggle, usually by those who are dead as well.  We have no cause to be self-righteous; our enlightenment isn't our achievement, and it's fundamentally unfair to blame those who didn't have the benefit of our knowledge for failing to have our knowledge.

It is stupid to apply the standards of the present to the past because that is simply to fail to know and understand the past, thus dooming ourselves to repeat it, as Santayana put it.  It is futile to do so because it achieves nothing of significance now.

Wilson and Jefferson and the billions of others who have lived are not honored, or even thought of, for their racist views if they are thought of at all.  Those who do think of them for any extended period of time are most likely professors and students, who are of course exempt from criticism being the critics themselves and presumptively free of racism.  Taking names off buildings and pulling down statues won't make anybody less racist or more tolerant, as satisfying as those acts may be to those who deal in appearances and little else. 

The Will to Will the Will Away (A Rant)

There were once so many wills in philosophy, and are so many ills in life.  Are they related?  Is the relationship causal, or is it merely that we associate them with each other?  The Will to Power, Will to Believe, the Will that is the World.  Will must have been a big thing back in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and was evidently such a big thing that it was thought necessary to define not merely life but the universe as a function of will.  Or perhaps it was a case of there being a philosophical sucker born every minute, eager to reduce all to a single--will?  Desire?  Need?  Urge?

It hardly matters, as long as it is something, some single thing, preferably, something simple and dramatic.  Something, that is to say, that will sell by assuring, comforting, by making things easy.  The World as Shills and Simplification, by Ciceronianus, Esquire, J.D.  We used to, and still do, long for the One Answer, the Prime Mover, the Magic Elixir.  That which will tell us what to do and what it's all about.  Will is a particularly convenient Answer, as it is personal in the sense that it's human; what we strive for, what we need, what we want.  What could be better than that?

Some find it in religion, some in philosophy.  It seemed that philosophy had for a time renounced its pretensions to know what is really real, what it's all about, but I think that time is ending.  Now, perhaps, those who are called quietists are rendered silent, and some philosophers will seek to take their place in the great circus, the carnival of life, the spectacle, from the Latin spectaculum.   It's a most appropriate derivation, the Romans using that word to describe especially the shows put on in the arena, beast fights, executions, and gladiatorial contests.  The Spectacle of the Real.  Brought to you by speculation, of course.

This wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, as in the absence of philosophers others have rushed to take their place in the business of Will.  Politicians, pundits and priests (well, clergy let us say, ministers, pastors, some self-appointed).  These latter don't even seek to plausibly maintain their bold assertions, as lawyers do according to Aaron Burr ("The law is whatever is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained"--those were happier, simpler times), and as philosophers would do, presumably.  Or let us in any case hope so, and that the effects of quietism will at least work to mitigate the Sturm und Drang that has characterized the Great Discoverers of Reality in the past.

Sadly, thinking, and especially thinking critically, is both difficult and humbling.  Humbling because honesty requires that we apply it to our own pretensions.  As such it is something we avoid, as much as possible, in all things.  Those who work themselves into a frenzy over our President, shrieking "tyranny," have abandoned thought as it would require them to consider what tyranny actually is; far better to shriek.  Those who attach themselves to heroes, idols, cannot think, for in doing so they would understand that all should be questioned, the great as well as the small should be subject to scrutiny which would mean there would be no heroes, just other people--a dismal prospect for many of us.  Those who seek the Answer and, worse, believe they've found it won't think either, I'm afraid, as by thinking they'll doubt and those who know the Answer don't doubt.

Undoubtedly we're creatures who have urges and desires, and whether they're to be satisfied and the extent they should be satisfied is a matter for judgment in particular circumstances.  Whether it's necessary to reduce them all to one in particular is something I question, particularly when it is power that becomes the alleged basis for our lives--that sort of thing sets hearts pounding and feet marching.  That's in the nature of an urge, I suppose, but it isn't at all clear to me that our urges should triumph over much of anything and certainly not our reason.   There is nothing inherently wrong with them, but to declare them as fundamental in some philosophical sense is simply to abandon responsibility for our conduct.  It is, in short, an excuse.  An excuse not to think.

We are perpetually dissatisfied and that dissatisfaction is caused by great, and thoughtless, expectations.  Disappointed that the universe doesn't meet those expectations we do just about all we can do except recognize there is no basis for such expectations and so no reason for our disappointment.  That's due in part, I believe, to the fact we overestimate the significance and effectiveness of our Will, which is to say, broadly speaking, what we want.  Want what we will, there are times, many times, when we won't get what we want.  This should teach us something about ourselves, but teaches us nothing about the universe beyond the fact we're a very small part of it.

Law, Politics, Persuasion and Pessimism

"The law" according to Aaron Burr, an able lawyer among other things, "is whatever is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained."  It's a rather cynical comment.  I'm not sure that is as much the case in the law today as it was in his time; the law has become so complicated that extensive knowledge of it, or particular areas of it, is likely more essential than it was in his relatively carefree time.  But his comment is applicable to many other things, and is particularly applicable to our politics and culture as to what is believed to be true or significant--although it's questionable whether it is necessary to plausibly maintain most anything anymore.

Recently, I argued a case before the Supreme Court of the state in which I practice.  Because this court in most cases is not required to accept appeals, this is quite rare.  It can be an interesting and daunting experience.  I've done it before, but in this case the argument was not held in the imposing courtroom at the state capitol, but in the local court of the county in which the cases to be argued arose, apparently as part of a project to "bring" the court to the people, giving them an opportunity to see how the state's highest court operates.  So, the courtroom was mobbed, and had the atmosphere of an event, even a kind of show, which was unusual given the nature of the case in which I appeared, which has legal significance but is not terribly exciting.

I think this is a fine idea, and don't think it impacted the quality of the arguments at all.  Bold assertions plausibly maintained may impress but tend to be less compelling in the higher courts, even when an unusually large audience is present.  But this admirable idea of exposing the less known aspects of the functioning of the law to those interested reminded me that we as a people are more than ever a kind of audience, who expect events or shows, and are persuaded by them, for good or ill.

When the highest court of a jurisdiction becomes involved in a case, and has the discretion to accept matters, public policy will generally be an issue.  In interpreting and applying a statute, however, a court should not impose its own view of what is appropriate, in most cases.  The policy behind a law is presumably the concern of the legislature which adopted the law; part of the obligation of the court is to determine legislative intent, and the language of the law is all important to this determination.

This is a sound rule, as legislators are elected representatives of the people empowered to adopt laws.  But in these times when the show is so important and apparently so persuasive, one has to wonder whether elected legislators have the interests of the people in mind.

It's election time in this great republic, and advertisements for the various candidates (they cannot reasonably be called anything else) deluge us.  These advertisements are (perhaps necessarily) simple-minded, bombastic and, of course negative--they don't even extol the virtues of the preferred candidate, being focused exclusively on the many defects of his/her opponent.  They boldly assert, and are intended to persuade, but no effort is made to plausibly persuade anyone. 

I find this approach insulting, and ignore the advertising as much as possible, but it is pervasive--it can't be escaped.  Surely, it must have some effect.  Presumably, commercials regarding beer and cars and various other products influence consumers, though I've never considered myself particularly influenced.  Why else would such huge amounts money be paid to create such things?

It is now commonly felt, I think, that our politicians are products like any other, and have been bought and sold so many times before they are elected that they cannot serve the interests of any but their current owners.  If that isn't too cynical a view, it's hard not to consider that at least a limited kind of judicial activism is to be encouraged--unless, of course, judges are made as susceptible as politicians to the influence of others.  This would seem to require that they be protected from such influence.

It's the old problem, of course.  How independent can the judiciary be without becoming a kind of anti-democratic elite?  Can we hope that the politicians, pundits and preachers who endlessly hector us will be unsuccessful in their efforts to persuade us with mere assertions?  When will we demand that they provide plausible explanations for their claims and actions?