A Convenient God

 

Humanity and God.  God of love, God of peace, God of war.  We take our pick.

Is there some causal relation, or perhaps a correlation, between substance abuse and religious belief of the showy "Praise God!" and "pray with me!" and salvation- show variety?  I think so.  Those who think themselves saved indulge in a kind of exhibitionism; they enjoy being noticed and watched; even admired, as someone God saved.  They also seem determined to see to it that others are similarly saved or at least pretend to be saved, and are certainly TOLD they should do as the saved do.

Humanity's God, though so often described as loving and merciful, is also often a God of war.  The God described in what's called the Old Testament, for example, exuberantly urges his chosen people to kill the men, women, children and even domesticated animals of those various peoples occupying the Promised Land before them.  He himself obliterates the sinful very dramatically, and in one famous instance even kills nearly the entirety of the human race.

In fairness, it should be noted that other ancient nations or at least their leaders delighted in describing the destruction they caused in war against their enemies and their domestic animals (killing the livestock of enemies seems to have been important then, judging from the frequency with which it's noted).  I've mentioned the lavish detailing of their wars by the Assyrian kings in this blog before.

It's not as easy to find support for or approval of war in what's called the New Testament as it is in the Old Testament, but no matter.  Christians have waged war since Christianity began.  In fact, they've waged war against each other far more than they've waged it against non-Christians.

We've been engaged in war throughout our history.  It's something we do.  We can't claim that we're less warlike than we were in the past.  There always seems to be some war going on somewhere, as there is now.

So, naturally enough, and quite conveniently, our God is almost always a God of war.  Sometimes, God is considered the reason why wars take place.  Wars have many causes, but religion is so often one of them if not the primary cause of them, and God so frequently evoked by wars' participants (though the God of the warring parties may differ) that it may fairly be said humanity's God is a God of war, when we want God to be a God of war.

And that's what we have wanted, and some want now.  

The claim is regularly made that belief in God is needed for us to be moral; indeed for morality to exist.  If that's the case, though, it appears that causing death and destruction through war is moral, i.e. that we should wage war. It's difficult to think of any war in which religion wasn't involved or in which God wasn't invoked by those at war as justifying it or as favoring the victory of one side or another.

"As Swimmers Into Cleanness Leaping"

I was reading some of the so-called "War Poets" last evening, preparatory I suppose to Memorial Day, or perhaps more properly inspired by it.  Those poets were, of course, poets of the First World War.  Rupert Brooke, from whose poem Peace the title of this post is taken, was for me the most able of those poets.  He was also the most inclined to write of the war they called the Great War as truly great, as it seems to have been to him in some manner grand.  Not in showy sense, not in a glorious sense, but profound.  A means he may have thought by which men also became great.

It's unfortunate, then, that he died as he did.  His death wasn't grand, or inspiring or profound.  He died of a mosquito bite which became infected, on a ship on its way to Gallipoli.  In those days infections of various sorts could turn out to be fatal. 

That said, the image of death invoked by the title to this post is striking.  It's said Brooke was an atheist, but it's difficult to think of him as such while reading this poem, or sonnet.  If I interpret it correctly, which is always uncertain, one is blessed by the peace of death, transformed into a part of something very great indeed.  Something different from and finer than humanity or the world we humans have made.

His poetry is his memorial.  Is it a memorial of war, though? 

It's interesting in considering Memorial Day to wonder just what memorials of war are supposed to be, what they are and what they have been.  It seems to me that war memorials now are something different from what they were in the past.  It's likely we've always made such memorials, but for a different purpose or different purposes.  Ancient Roman war memorials abound.  There are the arches of Titus, Constantine, Septimius Severus; there are the columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius.  They and most if not all ancient war memorials honored great victories of great men.  Although soldiers appeared on the memorials, particularly on the columns, they were not memorials of the soldiers themselves.

War memorials came to be erected to honor those who fought the wars only recently in the scheme of things as far as I can tell.  We see them beginning in the 19th century.  The late 19th century, I believe, is when they became common.  Even the memorial erected after the battle of Waterloo, the so-called Lion's Mound, though it wasn't intended merely to commemorate the Prince of Orange  but the victory over Napoleon, can't be said to be a war memorial as we know them now.

Perhaps they began with the U.S. Civil War.  That would seem to be when special cemeteries were set aside for those killed in battle, in any event.  Then came the First and Second World Wars, and more cemeteries, and tombs of unknown soldiers, and monuments, everywhere.

The memorials we're familiar with seem to be associated with war as it came to be fought not by professional or mercenary armies, but armies which were formed by conscription.  Or, perhaps, they came to be as war came to be fought by huge masses and came to impact on societies in general.  The losses incurred in the terrible wars fought beginning in the 19th century were so enormous and affected so many that it was felt necessary to memorialize them in ways that were different in quality and quantity from prior memorials.

Those memorials are altogether fitting, to paraphrase Lincoln at Gettysburg.  The sacrifices made should be honored, as they're beyond measurement.  And it's good we honor those who sacrificed themselves and not merely emperors and kings and generals who committed them to their fates.

Memorials are supposed to serve another purpose as well, though, or so it's said.  They're to serve to remind of those losses.  And doubtless they do.  It's curious, though, that while we remember we continue to wage war.  We don't forget the horrors of war but keep fighting wars, and then erect additional memorials to them and those who died fighting them.

"In Times of War, the Law is Silent"

Cicero, in his speech normally referred to as Pro Milone, spoke the words which serve as the title to this post.  Well, being a Roman of the first century B.C.E., he actually said "inter arma enim silent leges" or at least that is how his words have come down to us.  The speech was given and the words were spoken in favor of the Roman politician Milo (Titus Annius Milo) and against Publius Clodius Pulcher (not to be confused with Publius Claudius Pulcher, who as I've mentioned before I admire for his treatment of the sacred chickens).

The speech was given during a time when both Clodius and Milo were inflaming the Roman mob, driving it to a most impressive spree of violence in favor of the political factions they represented.  They also hired armed mercenaries to threaten one another, and we're told gladiators were brought to sessions of the Senate to cow senators into compliance.  Clodius was eventually killed, and Cicero defended Milo, who was charged with the murder of Clodius.  In his defense, Cicero did not bother claiming Milo was not involved in the killing, and instead claimed that it was necessary, and lawful self-defense, in a time of emergency.  In fact, "war" wasn't referred to by Cicero, but arms were (arma) and in Latin silent doesn't mean "silent" but rather "mute."

Cicero himself, while consul, with the approval of the Senate condemned Roman citizens to death without trial during the time of the Cataline conspiracy against the Roman Republic.  No doubt he felt the law was silent at that time as well. 

It must be acknowledged that since these words were spoken, they and the rule they state have often come to mind and been relied on by those in power (and others) whenever there is armed conflict and the belief is that laws applicable in times of peace must stand mute until the conflict is resolved.  That was the case after 9/11, and long before that.  It's likely that will be the case again regarding the terrorist attacks in Paris.

Do these attacks indicate that this is a time when law, or some laws, should be silenced?  This should be decided as soon as possible, I think.  Otherwise, response to the threat will be haphazard, and it's likely nothing will be achieved of lasting effect.  Our leaders will end up doing what they always do, and blame one another for the lack of success while people die.

Anyone with due regard for the rule of law must find the claim made by Cicero to be disturbing.  I for one am disturbed, but not merely by the fact that the claim, if true, allows for the waiver of the laws, but because such waiver--a deliberate failure to enforce or honor the law--may actually be necessary, or at least prudent, in extreme circumstances.  There is a danger that those who waive the law may do so unwisely, or solely for their own benefit, or as part of scheme of oppression, or maliciously  There is also a danger that a failure to waive legal restrictions may lead to grievous harm.

It seems clear that Cicero didn't mean that all laws are silent in times of conflict or emergency, and there is no reason to believe that is how the statement should be interpreted.  But depending upon the nature of the emergency, it's unsurprising and not necessarily wrong if certain laws are deemed not to apply in certain circumstances.  Whether that should be the case and, if so, what laws are to be disregarded, is a matter of the greatest significance and should be the subject of careful consideration.

It's unlikely there will be careful consideration, though, or indeed intelligent consideration of any kind, with respect to any response.  Responses to attacks of this kind are visceral, and this also is understandable.  They cannot be tolerated or justified; they must cease.  Perhaps the world at large will finally understand, now,  the magnitude of the evil of these primitives and their death cult and make a unified effort to rid us of them, setting aside selfish concerns and quests for power.

If it is decided that laws should become silent, it should be recognized that this should be the case only because a crisis is of such significance that it should be deemed war or the equivalent of war.  Is that a commitment we wish to make?  It seems we've been putting that off, at least as to the current threat, and possibly as to others if by war we mean a national devotion to the conflict. If we are willing to commit to it, what will we do in pursuing the war?

The tendency is to demand that the threat be destroyed through the use of "any means necessary."  This is a thoughtless response, and generally merely indicates we don't know what means to employ.  Thus we've sanctioned torture in the past, and some still do and will, despite the fact that it's usefulness (if not its morality) has been questioned even by those who have not hesitated to make war, like Napoleon.  Sometimes, it seems, we're impressed by responses only if they're ruthless.  But it shouldn't be the ruthlessness of a response that is valued.  It should be valued only if it is effective, and a thoughtless response is bound to be ineffective.  One remembers the boastfulness behind the "shock and awe" tactics employed not all that long ago.  Those tactics seem to have had no useful result.

So chest pounding and loud, flashy tactics will do us little good.  If this is the great fight of our times, then it should be treated as such, and a sustained and devastating response made, not a piecemeal one.  However, it's doubtful there will be such a response unless it becomes a coordinated effort by all nations with an interest in the area, and that for good or ill should include those nations which maintain they are Islamic.  If they refuse to contribute, though, the response must still be made.  Either that, or we continue to be subject to such attacks, doing the best we can to avoid them.

What of the law in all this?  Well, it's unclear just what laws would be subject to consideration and waiver at this time, except those applicable to privacy and those related to the conduct of war and the treatment of prisoners.  We've already evidenced a disregard for laws impacting those issues, though, without putting the nation on a war footing.  However, it's conceivable that others, such as those prohibiting discrimination, would come under scrutiny.   Is there such a thing as "profiling" at a time of crises?  is there a legal obligation to take in refugees?  To what extent are the boundaries of sovereign nations to be honored?  Should we restrict or prohibit immigration?

If this is the great fight of our times, then it is inevitable that laws will be found to conflict with war aims.  We must be prepared to address that conflict as well.  But all this comes into play only when we've decided what our response will be.

For a response of such magnitude that it will bring the law into scrutiny and require a national commitment, it seems clear to me that Congress must be involved.  That would be a "real war", and it is the Congress which has the power to declare a real war, though it has shirked this terrible duty often in the past by granting war powers to the Executive.  All our elected representatives should be held responsible for such a decision.

The Fascination of the Battle of the Little Bighorn

On New Years Eve, 2014, while at the Palmer House Hilton in Chicago and perhaps while slightly inebriated, I made a point of advising my daughters and their friends that it was in that very spot, or somewhere in the hotel in any case, that the U.S. Army held hearings regarding the disastrous Battle of the Little Bighorn, also known in less politically correct times past as Custer's Last Stand.  I may have told them this more than once, alas.  They appeared less impressed than I had hoped.

My daughters notwithstanding, that battle, which seems to have taken a remarkably small period of time and so may not have been a "battle" as commonly conceived, and which was called the Last Stand for reasons unknown to me (I don't think it was much of a stand, and don't know that Custer really had prior "stands"), continues to be a source of fascination and controversy.  I'm one of those who find it fascinating. 

I'm not sure why I do.  Best estimates are that it took one half hour to an hour from the time of Major Reno's abortive charge of the camp of the Sioux and Cheyenne to the annihilation of Custer and his command.  The siege of Reno and Captain Benteen and their men took somewhat longer, of course, and had a happier outcome for the besieged.  Modern archaeological methods based on where cartridges were found indicate that Custer's attack on the flank of the camp became a route in short order.  If there was a heroic Last Stand, it was a brief one.

I suppose it fascinates for several reasons.  First, no one escaped to "tell the tale" of what happened to Custer, his brothers and their men, though Reno and Benteen survived as did others who were not at the Last Stand.  Second, George Armstrong Custer has been portrayed as a hero or a lunatic depending on the fashion and is in any case a remarkable figure.  Third, the idea that the Sioux and Cheyenne could so thoroughly defeat a, regiment of U.S. Calvary was thought and is still apparently thought by some to be shocking.  It's the same reason the defeat of the British by the Zulus at Islandlwanna fascinates.  Some clearly feel that the battle would have been won by the 7th had Reno not panicked or had Benteen not been unwilling to save Custer.  There may be a kind of racism at work here in the obsessive regard for battles in which civilized whites were overrun by "savages."

That this happened, though, is undoubted, just as it cannot be doubted that many of the victories of the 7th Calvary and other army units during the Indian Wars were in fact massacres along the lines of what took place at Washita.  Perhaps it was the working of karma that Custer and his men were eventually massacred themselves. 

Custer still has his backers, who think he was failed by Reno and Benteen.  Reno it seems was not a heroic figure and is commonly portrayed as weak and a drunkard.  Benteen, though, a dour, cantankerous man, was notably brave under fire and was thought to be the "Savior of the Seventh" for a time at least.  Both men loathed Custer, and it seems Custer loathed them.  Custer's backers think Reno a coward and Benteen deliberately slow in coming to the battlefield. 

Questions are asked regarding why Custer split his command into three groups.  There is speculation that Custer was eager for some great victory to regain his reputation which had been somewhat sullied by his conflict with then-President Grant, or rather with certain of his underlings and their friends engaged in corruption.  It's claimed this caused him to be reckless in the disposition of his forces.  It's noted that Custer said he could not see the huge numbers scouts saw encamped on the river.  The Indians had repeater rifles as well as other weapons while the soldiers had carbines, single shot rifles.  Custer told his men not to wear their sabres that day, and the Indians were terrified of those "long knives."

All we can know with relative certainty, though, is that Reno attacked pursuant to orders, halted and formed a skirmish line, then retreated.  Custer and his men came upon the camp and were thrown back in disorder.  Before he attacked Custer sent a messenger back to Benteen to come quick and bring the ammunition packs in the wagons he was leading.  Unfortunately, the messenger he chose was an Italian immigrant whose English is said to have been poor.  Benteen arrived at the battle and assisted Reno in the retreat, eventually taking a position on Reno Hill.  Some say the battlefield is redolent of lonlieness, terror and despair.  I've never visited it, but hope to do so.

Perhaps in the end it fascinates because we empathize with the soldiers and can imagine their terror and despair as they were quickly overrun.  The Sioux and Cheyenne were merciless to survivors; thus one soldier is said to have blown his brains out though the warriors later said he could have escaped had he tried.  They were probably used to easy fights, or were inexperienced young men; the army wasn't much of a career in the years after the Civil War.  The glory of war, forsooth.

They say Sitting Bull was in Buffalo Bill's show for some time, and participated in the "reenactments" of the battle put on by that showman.  What a sad thought that is.  Who ended up worse, by their own lights?  Custer and his heroic dead or Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse and Gall and the other victors, put on show or dying not as warriors, but as prisoners?

War Guilt

The Treaty of Versailles, the one that resulted at the end of the First World War, contained the following, commonly known as the "war guilt clause" (Article 231):

"The Allied and Associated Governments affirm and Germany accepts the responsibility of Germany and her allies for causing all the loss and damage to which the Allied and Associated Governments and their nationals have been subjected as a consequence of the war imposed upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies."

This clause and its consequences have been the subject of considerable dispute over the years.  It was of course much resented by Germans at the time.  Was it inserted merely to provide a more or less legal foundation for the reparations Germany was required by the treaty to pay?  Was it an expression of the desire which may have been honest or dishonest to characterize Germany as an evil aggressor?  Was it a just assessment of "war guilt" or unjust and hypocritical?

It's been called an incitement to future war, and a cause of the rise of Hitler.  I'm not sure if that's entirely the case, however.  I think it's likely war would have come regardless of any sense of injustice experienced due to the clause itself.  The treaty as a whole made war probable, I think.  It was well called an armistice for twenty years by some Frenchman, whether Marshal Foch or an adviser to Clemenceau or someone else (this seems a matter of some dispute as well).  It created quite a mess by arbitrarily establishing borders, creating new and sometimes remarkable states, and trying to satisfy the imperial and otherwise territorial claims of the victors.  We're victimized by its nation-building still.  Wilson, for all his pontificating, caved in dreadfully to demands made by Britain and France, leaving Germany and others feeling betrayed.

I'm one of those who think the U.S. should not have become involved in that war, and so have no fondness for Wilson or for the leaders of France and Great Britain at the time.  However, I also feel that Germany was primarily responsible for the war if by "responsible" we mean causing it to take place.  I also feel that although Allied propaganda was extreme and irresponsible in its characterization of the Germans as barbarians, and the Allies themselves were guilty of atrocities in that war, the Germans' conduct in Belgium, their destruction of people and historic properties in that small nation, their initiation of the use of poison gas on the battlefield, all were indicative of a ruthlessness and disregard of the accepted rules of war of that time which could be called barbaric.  Perhaps surprisingly, German apologists of the time, when they did not deny atrocities took place, justified them on the grounds that the end (protecting the lives of German soldiers, for example) justified the means.

Of course, we then had much to learn of cruelty and barbarism in wartime, and proved to be eager students.  Lately, we in the U.S. have taken to justifying torture and other things on the grounds that the end (protecting American lives) justifies the means.  It doesn't put us in the best of company.

The concept of "war guilt" had its place at the end of the Second World War as well.  We saw it in the Nuremberg trials and other war trials and the occupation of Japan and Germany.

Does it remain a useful or at least existent concept at this time?  Was it ever useful or proper?  Is it inappropriate or unhelpful to assign blame for war?

It may be useful and possible as to wars of aggression, and could be if there is a rule of law applicable to wars.  The Allies, and particularly the French after WWI, in that case would have had a legal claim for damages.  On the Western front, the great majority of the fighting took place on French soil.  The war guilt clause would thus be a kind of legal finding or conclusion if there was a governing tribunal.  The treaty might in that case be considered a settlement, but if it was a settlement Germany may have been able to agree to reparations without admitting liability and expressly denying it, which is typical in settlement agreements entered into to resolve a dispute.

Whether there is any rule of law is questionable, though; even if there is one applicable to war, it seems it will be disregarded when necessary.  But there is especially no rule of law where there is a conflict, but no war, which is the situation we find ourselves in now and have been in for some decades  There seem to be no rules where there is no war; not even rules that can be disregarded.

Accepting that some people or some nation can be responsible for a war in certain cases (to have caused a war), reparations would seem appropriate in that case.  But it's possible to cause a war without commencing military hostilities.  It's possible to be forced into war.  In that case, though, there is still someone causing a war, which could be subject to penalty.  This is something the law can handle, provided all agree to laws and a method of resolving dispute as to causes.

We've been hesitant to accept any laws, or courts, which are not our laws and our courts, however.   We're unwilling to leave the determination of responsibility to others.  We are willing to leave the determination to the victor, as we think we are likely to be the victor.  This is all well and good when we are the strong nation.  But all things pass. 

It is one of the benefits of law that it would have application regardless of whether one is or is not strong or likely to win.  It is in fact this which would make war less of a desirable option than it currently is--those nations which are victorious on the field may otherwise lose.  If we're serious about peace, we may have to accept the concept of war guilt and be willing to have that guilt assessed by an impartial decision maker.  This is much as we do among ourselves.  What is it that prevents us from doing so in our external as well as internal relationships?

Distrust, it would seem.  There are of course those who think that a single world government is being planned and sought by various people and powers.  But in essence it seems we simply don't trust the other residents of this world to properly judge citizens of the United States, nor do we trust them to participate in the creation of laws which we would find acceptable. 

Nothing Worthwhile

Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul of France and later Emperor of the French, and without question a remarkable general and great homme de guerre, had the following to say about torture:  "The barbarous custom of having men beaten who are suspected of having secrets to reveal must be abolished.  It has always been recognized that this way of interrogating men, by putting them to torture, produces nothing worthwhile."

Most would agree that Napoleon was not a terribly squeamish fellow and not one to hesitate to kill vast numbers of men who stood in his way on the battlefield.  He is known to have committed what would today be considered a war crime by ordering the massacre of between 2,000 and 4,000 prisoners of war during the siege of Jaffa.  He was not an especially delicate, namby-pamby, pacifist sort of fellow.  He was ruthless in the pursuit of his goals and in waging war.  He was also, by all accounts, almost frighteningly intelligent.  His assessment of torture as barbarous and worthless thus must be respected, even by the most virulent of our many arm-chair generals.

A report on the interrogation techniques employed by Central Intelligence Agency has been released, and it is not such as to redound to the credit of that organization.  Regrettably, that organization is closely associated with our Great Republic, and its conduct is taken by many to be the conduct of the United States.  So there has been concern, which is probably well-founded, that it will lead to our nation as being considered something less than the last best hope of the world.  Whether it will result in violence towards U.S. soldiers and citizens remains to be seen, at least at the time this is being written.

The potential for violence is of greater concern, to me, than the potential for disillusionment.  That the CIA engaged in questionable interrogation techniques and even torture in some cases has been strongly suspected by if not known to many for some time now.  Some, unfortunately, even glory in it, or at the least consider it a necessary evil.  I think this is to take an extremely selfish and short-sighted view.  Those who applaud torture are generally those who are unlikely to be tortured.  But as they sow, so shall those who put themselves in danger on their behalf reap.  An enemy who considers himself to be subject to torture by us will be inclined to torture us if they can. 

So the disillusionment of the world with the practices of our City on a Hill in pursuit of information is likely something we are confronted with already.  That such disillusionment will be bolstered or considered supported by this report is not a significant worry.  If violence will result, as it seems many believe will be the case, that is another thing.  It would seem to make more sense to prosecute or punish torturers and abolish torture than to flaunt instances of torture, particularly where violence is likely to result.  And of course flaunting them for political purposes is inappropriate; but I'm not convinced that is what is taking place.

I take it as a given that we should know what is done in our name.  Such knowledge is required for any honest and honorable assessment of our policy and ourselves.  A determined ignorance of such things is sought only by the weak and the callous among us.  If we are going to sanction torture, we should damn well know what torture is rather than seek to wrap ourselves in scented cotton-wool and leave the dirty work and knowledge of it to others.

Most of all, however, we should know that if we sanction torture we must expect that others will torture as well.  We can't pontificate when others engage in it without being hypocrites, and contemptible ones at that.  We should also know, though, that the efficacy of torture has been doubted even by such as the Corsican Ogre. 

Should we accept, without question, the claims of those who torture that the torture was necessary and produced valuable results?   I would say no, if it was accepted even by Napoleon that it was useless.  We should put them to the proof.  And what if the proof is provided?  Is the torture then justified?

The intentional infliction of great pain in the form of torture would not be justified merely by the fact that valuable information is obtained, because torture by others would in that case be justified.   The assessment to be made and the factors to be weighed are not so simple.  We would render ourselves and others subject to torture if we accept such a rationale.  Following orders has also been justified as valuable, because it contributes to order and efficiency, and we've seen the results.

O tempora, o mores! Part V

Cicero used this phrase twice, first in one of his orations against Verres, governor of Sicily, and second in an oration against Cataline.  These orations deplored the conduct of certain Romans and mourned the depravity of the times, and customs, which sanctioned such conduct.  Today our times and some of our customs or morals, at least, are troubling as well, but that trouble is global in its effect and implications, for reasons which would have astonished Cicero, astute politician of what was then an Empire in fact if not in name though he was.

It's most unclear what can be done about these troubles, however, by our Great Union or by others.  The barbarity of ISIS (I wonder if they know their name is that of pagan goddess), the intransigence and imperial ambitions of Russia, militant Islamic fundamentalism, North Korean absurdist cruelty,  the extraordinary Ebola outbreak--this is all we hear of through the good offices of our relentlessly intrusive media.  Of course those who represent or seek to represent us, intent on being elected if not intent on anything else, exploit such issues for their benefit.

One pities our unfortunate President.  In fairness, which is of course of little concern in politics, there may in fact be very little he can do that he isn't doing.  But he manages to give the appearance of being at a loss and doing nothing, and appearance is overwhelmingly significant when there is no substantive action to take.  It's doubtful there would be any real public support for sending troops to Ukraine, Iraq, Syria or Somalia.  We know, or should by now know given the results of our efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan, that this would make no lasting difference in the last three cases, and taking on Russia on its front doorstep would be foolish and may be practically impossible.  If such action isn't likely or practical, what more is to be done?  More air strikes, more punitive economic measures?  If there are ISIS targets which can be attacked, and have not been, then it would seem appropriate to strike them.  If there none, though, what then?

In these all too interesting times, it seems we must accept uncertainty.  We must resign ourselves to the fact that our world is an unstable one.  I fear that if we don't do so we will seek certainty wherever and however we can, and will do so recklessly and without regard to the consequences.  Both certainty and uncertainty, both stability and instability, may be fostered now with great celerity by our communication technology, which may be used by anyone and for any purpose.  We can instantly terrorize others or arouse them to fury or fear, and many of us are willing to do so.

Acceptance of uncertainty doesn't require that we do nothing about the troubles of the world, but may assure that we won't try to do too much, or despair, or resort to efforts which will further limit what freedom we yet have.  Perhaps a Stoic approach to these troubles is best and the most thoughtful way of assessing our options and taking action.  We would do the best we can with what we have and take the rest as it comes, to paraphrase Epictetus.  We would avoid being overwhelmed and being inclined to take mindless action.

Can Stoicism be applied on a grand scale, or is its usefulness limited to individual thought, feeling and action?  It has been applied to a significant degree in the law, in the West at least.  But will it be applied to world affairs? 

Eventually, and voluntarily or involuntarily, we will learn if we have not yet learned that there is a limit to what we can usefully do, and cannot make all the evils in the world our problem or concern.  This would seem to be the first step towards practical wisdom in these very practical matters.  But Stoicism doesn't mandate detachment from world affairs, as Buddhism might, and indeed promotes service to the public good.  We would do the best we can with what we have, and not react irrationally to what happens.

Intelligent action is required, in other words. 

The Ceremony of Innocence

It seems I have Yeats on my mind, these days.   This is well and good, as he was a great poet in the Modernist manner, and it is the Modernists I find most interesting.  Yeats ranks up there with Wallace Stevens and T.S. Eliot, for me; among the greatest of them.  I was never fond of Carl Sandburg and others who it seems tried to construct a peculiarly American poetry, and never thought much of anything of e.e. cummings, whistling far and wee. 

Most everyone knows of The Second Coming, or knows at least a word or two of that poem, either by virtue of being compelled to read it in school, or running across snatches of it in print or on the screen, or perhaps even by reading it out of interest and while at leisure to do so.  In the last case, it may be even that the poem is understood, or if not understood then known to be powerful and evocative (perhaps that's being understood in the case of a poem).

"The ceremony of innocence is drowned."  That's one of many striking phrases in the poem, but it's the one that keeps coming back to me right now.  Why "ceremony"?  No doubt many learned professors have expounded on this, but I haven't read them and in all honesty don't care to read them, though I'm sure to be enlightened if I did.  Or perhaps not.  It's hard to accept expertise of any kind these days.  Experts are always in front of us, on display by the media and used as kinds of fillers between commercials.  Familiarity does indeed breed contempt, and so a dismissive contempt seems to pervade among us, regardless of the qualifications of those who are strapped on horseback like El Cid to ride the satellite waves for our enlightenment.

Left then to my own devices I wonder why "ceremony" was used by the poet.  It would appear to refer to something formal, something religious or in the nature of a ritual.    Is that what innocence was to the poet; did he think that's what innocence had become?  Innocence is generally a lack of sophistication, earnest, unfiltered observation of the world and reaction to what the innocent encounter.  And why "drowned"?  By the blood-dimmed tide, presumably.

The poem was written in 1919, so there was certainly quite a bit of blood being shed shortly before.  Probably enough to make a tide.  It's been claimed often enough and by many that the Great War, which we Yankees call World War One, was an end to innocence, and there would seem to be support for that claim.  Certainly it brought to an end any "innocent" view of war as glorious and fulfilling, though one is compelled to wonder how any innocence would have survived the American Civil War or the Boer War if not others.  Even the juvenile and romantic view of war held by such as Teddy Roosevelt was dimmed by the blood-dimmed tide.  And of course much that was new and unusual, and less than "innocent" as commonly defined, seemed to follow the war inexorably in politics and in the arts.  It's hard to believe that ascribing such things to the war is merely a case of  the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy.

But a ceremony is something that's existed for a good amount of time.  A ceremony is seldom created anew, and when it is it's not considered a ceremony for some years.  So it would seem that the ceremony of innocence for Yeats would have been something that was existent and known long before the Great War--known in fact as a ceremony.  Innocence as a ceremony is not spontaneous or uncontrived.

Had we, even then, made of innocence a ceremony?  If so it is even more of a ceremony now, if indeed it still exists.  Who can we consider innocent in this age?  Young children, perhaps, but they're encountering an end to innocence more quickly now than in the past.  Communication is relentless and innocence can only be maintained by the cultivation of ignorance.  Innocent isn't necessarily good, but at least for now it remains something we prize.  Perhaps that's why it's become a ceremony for us.

Perhaps too much of a ceremony--too much that is of something not merely significant but to be extended if not perpetuated.  Parents now are said to be notably protective of their children (when they're not abusing or ignoring them, that is; parents like everyone these days are extremists of one kind or another) and described as "helicopter" parents, shielding them and controlling them and maintaining their innocence, or trying to do so, which in itself is dangerous.

The danger of innocence is that it may generate gullibility.  The innocent are subject to being fooled because they're unaware of what those who are no longer innocent desire and the lengths they'll go to satisfy their desires, or if they are aware believe this to be a concern of others.  In a very odd way, I think we remain innocent even now, and that we want to be innocent, unthinking, perhaps more than ever.  Unfortunately, though, there are those who take advantage of the innocent and the simple, and today they are omnipresent. 

As they were in Yeats time, as I think of it.  Did he think it unfortunate that the ceremony of innocence was drowned, or did he welcome it?  How could he welcome it when the best lacked all conviction and the worst were full of passionate intensity?  Did he think that was due to the drowning of the ceremony?

There are too many full of passionate intensity here in the Kingdom of Fear, and proud of it.  No ceremony will save us from them.  They seem eager for ceremony; they thrive on it.  Perhaps it's time to grow up at last.

The Horrors of Certainty

Big John Dewey in his The Quest for Certainty was critical of philosophy and of certain philosophers for pursuing certainty as a goal.  I think he may have underestimated the extent to which certainty is cause for dismay.

We're never more dangerous than when we are certain, particularly when we are certain something is true or good.  Our certainty empowers us, renders us self-righteous, impatient of questions, even merciless.  Extremism in the pursuit of the truth or the good appears somehow appropriate to us.  Means, however dubious, are justified by the much desired, unchallengeable ends. 

The 20th Century is seen by many to be characterized by mere relativism, but it seems to me to be one in which certainty was the cause of vast and unspeakable horrors.  The Nazis and Soviets, spurred on by Hitler and Stalin, were certain of the need for the acts they took in pursuit of the goals they were certain must be sought.  Millions died as a result, Jews, kulaks, Ukrainians, Roma.

I've recently read a book called Bloodlands, which is a detailed description of seemingly endless atrocities and massacres engaged in by the Germans and the Soviets, particularly after the commencement of the Second World War, but before and after it by Stalin in his cruel quest to industrialize the Soviet Union.  Page after page reciting deaths by shooting, gassing, starvation, ceaseless labor.  It was a numbing experience, but one I feel I must recommend, if only because it illustrates the evil of certainty.

We've been warlike and cruel throughout our history, but it seems to me that our wars for power, glory, empire, money are small things compared with the wars we've waged for religious reasons, or to fulfill our destiny, or bring about the workers paradise, secure in the knowledge that all we do is for truth and the good.  The certainty that God wills it, or history or race or destiny require it, gives us carte blanche to do what must be done, whatever it may be.

Napoleon, Alexander, Caesar did a good deal of damage, as did England's wars of empire, but their quests for power, profit and personal glory are mere drops in the bucket of blood filled by such as Hitler, Stalin and Mao.  The Roman Empire was a military dictatorship, sometimes viscious and savage, but it required the triumph of Christianity, exclusive and certain, and its usurpation of the empire to render it intolerant not only of rebellion and disorder but of thought and religious belief.

When we believe the state is the means by which we may bring about the moral perfection of its citizens, or the human race at large, we are inclined to do most anything through the state, or to forgive most anything done by the state (this is a lesson Plato's totalitarian republic should have taught us--better Sparta than Athens, according to Plato).  There is therefore wisdom behind the view that the state should have limited power, as those on the Left and the Right are equally certain when it comes to what they feel is true or good, and are equally inclined to exercise power in their pursuit when they obtain power.  Stupid and selfish as we are, we may do less damage to ourselves than would a government convinced it must do what is necessary, regardless of our wishes, for our own good.

We're still on the quest for certainty, unfortunately.  We should teach ourselves to accept uncertainty, to feel comfortable with probability, respectful of the chance for error.  It will make us humble, cautious; even wise.  Not the most romantic or glorious point of view, but one which may allow us to live in peace.  At least it may lessen the chance for mass murder.   After the certain horrors of the 20th Century, that's no small thing.

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?

Dulce et decorum est...?

These are words of Horace, called an "old lie" by Wilfred Owen, a poet who knew war all too well. 

It's that time of the year when we ponder the fate and nature of those who have waged war, and are in a position to do so.  It seems fitting in an odd sort of way that November 11th is singled out for this purpose, the day on which the combat stage of what was once called the Great War ended.  That war it seems is no longer quite so "great" as we humans managed to engage in an even "greater" war within in a short time thereafter, and have been engaged in one war or another ever since, whether we call it such or not.

I am fascinated in some ways by the First World War.  It's a fascination with what I think is the extraordinarily terrible and stupid manner in which it was fought, at least on its western front.  That's not to say that other wars, ancient or modern, were not terrible and stupid.  William Tecumseh Sherman is credited with the assertion that "War is all hell" and is said to have been the first to have executed "total war" by marching his troops through the Confederacy, devastating every thing and person in their path.  That assertion is apparently accepted by most, but I wonder if most of us appreciate the significance of the word "all" in that statement.  I think Sherman meant to note that everything about war is hell, even those aspects of it we tend to glorify.

I think WWI was remarkable in its brutality and the manner in which it was waged.  The deadlock on the western front resulted in trench warfare, the use of artillery to such an extent it's likely it would have horrified even Napoleon, and such novelties as mining opposing trenches, i.e. digging under them and placing under them stupendous amounts of explosives, which when set off actually vaporized many of those above.  Tactics came to consist of hurling men at entrenched positions in the face of fire from machine guns and rifles.  The fate of soldiers in the last hours of that war strikes me as particularly tragic.  Commanders knew when the cease fire was to take place to the very minute, and some of them continued to send their men to death to the very end.  I find it difficult to conceive of anything so peculiarly cruel and futile.

I find myself wondering what a Stoic should think of war.  I confess I can't remember reading anything by Stoics such as Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius or Seneca addressing the subject in any detail.  Of course the Emperor was actively engaged in war while writing what we call his Meditations; we may infer, then, that he was willing to wage war in some circumstances.  I think we can conclude that Cicero felt it was justified in some cases as well.  The book Stoic Warriors by Nancy Sherman seems to claim that the Stoic philosophy is favored by our modern warriors.  I can see that certain aspects of Stoicism would be attractive to a soldier, but am not certain Stoicism can be said to be the path of a soldier.

I think we can at the least maintain that a Stoic would not engage in a war of aggression.  A Stoic would not be interested in obtaining territory, resources, slaves, or harming others due to hate or racism, nor would a Stoic feel it necessary that others live or think in particular ways and seek to compel them to do so.  The view that we should for the most part be indifferent to things which are not in our control would seem to render the notion of war irrelevant.  This is not even to mention the Stoic belief that we are equally citizens of the world (universe, I suppose) and united by the fact that we share in the Divine Reason.

Then there are the "Stoic martyrs" who refused to bow to the will of certain of the emperors and sought to do what they felt right in the face of death or banishment.  This is not an attitude one would think would be deemed useful to a soldier.  However, it's clear that Stoicism fosters a sense of duty, and in particular public duty.

If the nation of which the Stoic is a citizen is attacked, what would a Stoic do?  I think whether it was justly attacked would play some part in any decision.  But although we are to be indifferent to things beyond our control, I don't think a Stoic would refrain from defending others from harm, or stand idle while their lives and rights are threatened.