The "Principleless" Platform of a Platformless Party

     

Brevity can be a desirable thing in American politics.  A political speech that is brief and to the point would be admirable, for example.  And as everything in a political campaign in our Great Republic seems endless, repetitive and squalid, it's understandable that any curtailment of the process seems prima facie desirable.

But alas, the Resolution adopted by the Republican Party at its convention this year, though blessedly brief, isn't remarkable for its brevity.  It would be possible, though unusual, for principles of a party or candidate to be stated succinctly.  It's remarkable because it states no principles of any kind.  Indeed, it doesn't even try to do so.  In fact, its language seems to express a kind of delight or relief that no principles need be identified, and concludes with a stern statement to the effect that no effort to formulate or promulgate any principles will be tolerated.  So perhaps there were some Republicans who felt it was important that the party at least seem to endorse principles and were being told that wouldn't happen.

Only a portion of the resolvedly unprincipled Resolution is shown above.  Most of the rest of it consists of claims that the fact that the Resolution contains no principles should not be taken to reflect adversely on the Republican Party and that it is wrong for anyone to to suggest that it does.  But the Resolution also states, more than once, that the Republican Party is united in support of the president.

This is most appropriate.  As close members of his family and others have noted, the president has no principles.  It's entirely fitting that a political party which eschews principles, or at least the expression of them, would support a person who is manifestly unprincipled.  

It's amazing, however, that a political party would flaunt its insistence that no principles may be espoused by it.  The rule is that in politics as in advertising appearance is significant, not substance.  So the expectation would be that a party, a politician and a candidate will at least pretend to be principled, pretend to stand for something, with varying degrees of sincerity or success.  But the Republican Party is so blithe in its dismissal of any effort to adopt a set of principles for this election that it's clear it has decided its failure to do so isn't a matter of concern.  Oddly, it doesn't even incorporate the prior election's platform, but merely mentions that there's no need to prepare another.

Does this mean that it has chosen to be honest about the fact that statements of political principles are meaningless, and generally disregarded, and so their preparation a wasted effort? There are portions of the Resolution which suggests that is the case.  That would certainly be extraordinary, particularly of a party which is moralistic and self-righteous to an extreme.  It has a long history of generating platitudes.  You'd think it would be an easy thing to resurrect those used in the past, or prepare new ones adequate to the task.  Probably, this is merely an effort to contend that it doesn't really matter whether it has a platform or not, in the end.

And that strikes me as an expression of profound resignation, if not cynicism; an acceptance of the relegation of a party to the whims of a single, self-obsessed person.  It's as if Republicans were saying "Screw it.  Principles?  A platform?  Come on!"

But it's hard to think that there is such a level of self-evaluation at work.  It's more likely, I believe, that the majority of the voting members of the party understand that the electors, or at least those who will vote Republican, don't care what principles are adopted or appear to be adopted.  Their cultish devotion to the president is such that they need have no reason to support him or those that facilitate his caperings.  

As a result, there's a concern that restating or reformulating the traditional principles of the party would merely make it, and them, look silly.  Whatever devotion there was to those principles has disappeared.  The Republican Party, as it now exists, supports the president because it has nothing else to support.  His largely incoherent ramblings and bizarre conduct have little to do with the nation or the best interests of its citizens.  The party knows this.  The members of the party are so craven that they don't wish to risk his displeasure by seeming to believe that he should concern himself with such things, instead of himself.  That's something he will not do, and he would resent anyone who tells him he should.

But it may be the case that most of the party has come to accept that principles are inconvenient in any event.  The less thought about them the better in this age of diminished people, things and ideas.

The Sad End of Napoleon Bonaparte

It's arguable that Napoleon Bonaparte was the most able person who ever lived.  

All know he was a military genius.  But I refer to his ability generally; of what it was about him that distinguished him from others in terms of talents, not merely what made him a great general.

By all accounts, his memory was vast.  He could recognize people he had met years previously and recall the circumstances of their meeting in detail. I'm not sure whether he had what's called  "photographic memory" but what he read in reports and correspondence he didn't forget, sometimes much to the chagrin of those that prepared or were mentioned in the reports.

He could focus on matters which were presented to him for decision intensely, and without being distracted by anything else.  He compared his mind to a cupboard:  "Different subjects and different affairs are arranged in my head as in a cupboard.  When I wish to interrupt one train of thought, I shut that drawer and open another.  Do I wish to sleep?  I simply shut all the drawers and there I am--asleep." This intensity of directed thought to a problem must have been of great advantage to him.

He could also, however, manage while doing one thing, regardless of its significance and complexity, to address other things, sometimes minutia.  It seems that micromanagement for him was not a liability, but something easily achieved, and that he excelled at it.  He had enormous energy, and worked extremely hard.  He would dictate on different matters to several writers at the same time.  Those who worked with him found themselves exhausted when he was still eager to continue.  What he could accomplish and the speed in which he accomplished it amazed people.  He apparently slept for no more than 4 hours a day.  While dressing after sleeping he would sometimes tear his own clothing in his impatience to go about his day.

It was apparently this eruption of nervous energy which led him to indulge in long, hot baths--the only thing known to relax him.

He could also charm just about anyone.  He inspired real devotion in his soldiers and in others.  

He had all the qualities which could, and did in most cases, make him a superb chief executive of a nation and military commander.  He was remarkable.  B.H. Liddell-Hart, in his book Strategy, wrote that he thought generals like Napoleon and Frederick the Great had the advantage over other great captains because they were also chiefs of state.  What he overlooked, I think, is that at least in the case of Napoleon he was always highly involved in affairs of state, not just on the battles, even when on the battlefield or in his campaigns.  Running a state and leading an army at the same time would, to me, be more challenging than leading an army.

He died when 51 years old, exiled to the island of St. Helena in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, months travel from anywhere else on the Earth.  He lived there for 6 years, closely watched and guarded in isolation.  

It would have been a dreary exile for someone who had so much energy, let alone someone who had ruled Europe for years.  It seems that for a time he was as active as he could be on St. Helena, riding and walking about the island, preparing his memoirs.  He visited and had visitors.  Then, especially after Sir Hudson Lowe arrived at the island to take on the duties of governor, he gradually stopped doing most anything at all.  Sometimes the old energy would return, and he would take on the role of master gardener or landscape artist, laying the foundation for the lovely gardens which still grace the area around Longwood House.  But for the most part, his life became grim and boring, always seeing and interacting with the same small set of people, cooped up in a damp house on a damp, windy plain.  He spent more and more time in his small bedroom on one of the two camp beds that he brought with him to the island.

The English seemed to have chosen for him a place and style of exile which was the most painful available for someone of his characteristics.  They clearly had enough of him, as had all of Europe, and his escape from prior exile on the island of Elba no doubt made them wary of putting him anywhere close to that continent.  But the place, together with the petty and seemingly meaningless restrictions placed on him when escape was nearly inconceivable strikes one as cruel, or perhaps mere reckless indifference combined with spite.

A cruel end for such a man.  He nonetheless managed in combination with those exiled with him to create a glorious legend which survives to this day; the new Prometheus.  He was right to say that his jailors would be known to history only because of their treatment of him.  Was that his greatest achievement?

I can't help but wonder if it would have been possible for him to be more the First Consul, recreating the French nation from the ruins of the Revolution, and less the Emperor.  Then he may have remained a wondrously capable creator rather than a destroyer. But would he have been able to refrain from war?  Was war pushed upon him in some cases at least, and could he have devoted himself to civil pursuits only?  What would he have achieved then?  Was the world deprived of his extraordinary ability by circumstances or did he himself choose to devote them to his own glory?  He was certainly careful of his own glory.  He is compared by some to a condottiere, and to an extent was similar to the leaders of the Medicis, Sforzas and Borgias in their promotion of their families (which he came to regret) but I think he was more "entirely out of Plutarch" as was said of him by Paoli.

It's regrettable that he didn't address these questions while stuck on his rock in the middle of the ocean.  

Occult and a Cult

"Occult" when used as an adjective means closed, concealed, shut off from view.  As such it may refer to something mysterious, and so we see alchemy, for example, referred to as an occult art or science.  Above are pictured a set of symbols used by alchemists.  "The occult" is used to refer to something supernatural or unnatural.

A "cult" is used to refer to a group of people having certain beliefs and engaging in certain practices considered strange and generally sinister.  A cult is sometimes religious.  At times, "cult" may refer merely to a group which seems unusually, or even irrationally, attached to someone or something; a devotion which is extreme in context, as when devotion is to an individual not properly subject to worship in a religious sense.

One can see a similarity in the two words when something in the nature of religious devotion, beliefs or practices are involved, as religions may involve hidden things, i.e. things known only to initiates.  Although it may seem odd, occult may be used, legitimately I think, when used to refer to the secret practices or rituals of associations such as the Freemasons, although they are nominally not religious.  They are closed to people who aren't members.  Calling such associations "a cult" seems not entirely appropriate, though I've no doubt some consider them such.  But in these secular times, it seems to me that for all their ceremony and, it seems, exotic vestments, these associations are devoted primarily to benefiting their members in one way or another that promotes power, wealth and status and, presumably, fellowship.  I'm sure that in some cases they may even benefit non-members, and assorted "worthy causes."

A particular variety of cult is called a "cult of personality."  That's described by Merriam-Webster Online as "a situation in which a public figure (such as a political leader) is deliberately presented to the people of a country as a great person who should be admired or loved." It's unclear to me how a cult can be a situation.  It seems to me to be more proper to identify those who accept what's presented in such a situation as members of a cult, or "cultists" and the situation to be "cultish" if there is such a word.  But I think most of us know what's intended by the phrase.

Cults of personality have seemed to become more and more common as the means by

which a person may be presented as great, or worthy of devotion or love, became more sophisticated and the message and intent more easily and generally communicated.  There's no doubt that propaganda has been used for centuries to generate support for people, ideas and causes, but in a cult of personality it seems a prerequisite that a person be what is presented as an object of devotion (as opposed to an idea or doctrine, for example).  It also seems not to be a prerequisite that the person be great in fact, or worthy of devotion at all because of his/her talents, abilities or qualities as an individual.  That person may be altogether average, or the scum of the earth, or a psychotic or sociopath.

That cults of personality may be created or fostered regarding such people is a testimony to the efficiency of methods by which they may be presented as worthy of devotion, and those methods have become mighty indeed given the technology available to those making the presentation.  Unfortunately, it's also a testimony to the stupidity and gullibility of those who are members of such a cult.

Or is there something else involved?  Why were the majority of the people of Germany willing to follow Hitler to the terrible end has been a subject of speculation since the end of the Second World War.  So has the question why Mussolini was successful in Italy, a nation not known to harbor martial ambitions and not particularly nationalistic, being, some would say, fragment into regions having their own cultures and dialects.

I'm inclined to think that cults of personality, particularly in politics, derive from the serious and sometimes overwhelming fears and frustrations of a group of people, and the desire that those fears and frustrations disappear, but quickly, easily and simply, and through the efforts of others, without concern or thought regarding how they're removed and who they're removed by.  Members of a cult of personality act viscerally, not rationally.  They believe they're right and that those who don't believe like them are wrong and must be dealt with, by most any means.

When you think of it, there actually is something hidden in such cults, and they may be called occult as a result.  What's hidden, though, isn't something which is disclosed or known to initiates, or even thought about, and results from a deliberate blindness--the faults of the person that is the subject of the cult, and the reasonableness and humanity of those who oppose that person.  Ultimately, members of such a cult simply don't care about such things.  Nor, probably, do they think about them, as especially when it comes to serious and complicated issues which make us anxious, we prefer not to think at all. 

The Philosophical Fallacy

Let's retire, for a moment, from the turbulence of these wretched times, and consider philosophy.

John Dewey thought that the most pervasive problem of philosophical thinking is neglect of context. He thought it so pervasive that he called it "the philosophical fallacy."

According to Dewey, the philosophical fallacy, in general, "consists in the supposition that whatever is found true under certain conditions may forthwith be asserted universally or without limits and conditions."

"The philosophical fallacy" is a part of a general critique of philosophical thinking that anticipated, I believe, the criticisms made by later philosophers. Dewey felt that philosophical thinking in large part involves abstraction, reification, and a tendency to treat as insignificant, and perhaps even as less than real (not really real)--or even unreal, that which is non-cognitive or pre-cognitive. (Here I'm paraphrasing Gregory Pappas' interpretation of Dewey on this). It's a form of intellectualism, an emphasis on knowing and what can be known, which is a limited view of our experience. Says Pappas, interpreting and later quoting Dewey: "In fact, we have a qualitative appreciation of our surroundings that precedes, underlies, and cannot be reduced to knowledge. Our intellectual activities always operate within the more general context of the world as encountered, lived, enjoyed, and suffered by humans. In primary experience ‘things are objects to be treated, used, acted upon and with, enjoyed and endured, even more than things to be known. They are things had before they are things cognized.’ (LW 1:27-28)"

I have no idea whether Dewey used the good ole pencil/stick in water chestnut as an example of this fallacy, but I think it is one. You know it, of course. The pencil/stick appears "bent" when placed in water but, in fact, it isn't bent. Therefore, our senses "deceive" us. We can't rely on them to know what is really the case. And that, of course, means....and on we go.

I tend to agree with Dewey. But apparently unlike him I wonder whether the philosophical fallacy and its variants are not merely pervasive in philosophical thought, but an inherent characteristic of it. In other words, is it inescapable? What is philosophy but abstraction, and what is abstraction but, if not the neglect of context, the disregard of it? And if that's the case--whither philosophy?

"Abstraction" is defined as dealing in ideas, not events, of being withdrawn into the mind.  Of course it can be maintained, as I think Dewey would maintain, that ideas occur, and thinking takes place, in context; that one doesn't withdraw into the mind at all as mind is a part of the world just as we and everything else is, and I would agree that's the case.  But while thinking takes place "in context" philosophy at least as traditionally conceived isn't addressed to any particular, specific context, typically.  In saying as he did that philosophy restores itself when it addresses the problems of men rather than the "problems of philosophy" Dewey may have been urging that philosophers apply the tools of philosophy to particular circumstances, to address specific problems.

Well and good.  But that would seem to make philosophy something different from what it has been for centuries.  The problems of philosophy generally aren't problems at all, in that sense that they aren't problems actually encountered in life, i.e. in context.  Who actually doubts their existence in a way that such doubt is reflected in one's conduct in the world?  Who is concerned whether what they see and touch and smell and hear is really what it is and does, to us?  Do I drive my car wondering whether it is in fact a car, and not something else?

But Dewey's criticism of traditional philosophy seems not merely regarding its choice of problems or perhaps more properly creation of problems which are not problems.  It seems to arise from the fact that Dewey believes that what we experience is in large part pre-cognitive and cannot be reduced to knowledge, and that this is ignored by philosophers.  That may mean that philosophy, or at least traditional philosophy, is so fundamentally misguided that it cannot lead to an understanding of the world.

Education is a real problem or involves real problems, and perhaps Dewey was vitally concerned with it because he thought a philosopher could address real problems and not merely philosophical problems by reflecting on education and how to educate.  What else could philosophers do, if indeed they were willing to consider problems outside those of the problems of philosophy?  What would the curriculum of a philosophy department involve, include?

Useful methods of addressing what takes place in a specific context, intelligently, perhaps.  How to think critically.  Perhaps even practical wisdom of the kind the ancient philosophers tried to address.  

Abstraction would certainly be involved, but it would be abstraction employed in addressing problems and issues of the kind which arise in real life, in particular circumstances.  Dewey's awareness of "the philosophical fallacy" may be what led him (in my opinion) to focus on the method of thinking, of inquiring, investigating and making decisions.  It may have influenced him to believe that all conduct and beliefs are subject to revision based on further inquiry.  This has made him a boogieman to those who seek the solace of unquestioned certitude, but his reliance on the scientific method and the similar application of intelligence to non-scientific problems saves him from being a relativist.

Of Tyranny and Idiocy

Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death is the name of an album made by the Dead Kennedys, a rock group which may or may not be properly described as a punk rock group, with a penchant for offensive names and witty, if gritty, songs like California Uber Alles and Holiday in Cambodia.  They lampooned a great deal, including American consumerism.  The title of this album comes to mind irresistibly in connection with "anti-maskers" and so much else associated with these dismal times.

I like to think of myself as fairly imaginative.  But I must admit it's difficult for me to even imagine that anyone would associate the requirement (and even the request it seems) that people wear masks during this pandemic with tyranny.  That there clearly are people who do, like the unfortunate(s) who made and held the sign pictured above, inspires a kind of awe regarding the vastness of our capacity for idiocy.

"Tyranny" is a word used to describe a form of government in ancient Greece, and also used to refer to a cruel, unreasonable or arbitrary exercise of control.   Assuming those who use the word in connection with wearing a mask in these times are aware of the fact that they don't live in ancient Greece, one can assume they mean to refer to the kind of exercise of control that may properly be termed "tyrannical."

If so, the bar on tyranny is being set very low.  Wearing a mask can, just barely, be deemed an inconvenience.  Can there be such a thing as a tyranny of inconvenience?  Are there really people who believe that refusing to wear a little mask is heroic?  What a sad spectacle we must make.

Considering it to be tyranny is to liken it to the tyranny complained of by Patrick Henry, which is to indulge in an absurd comparison, as if not more absurd than the consumerism decried by the Dead Kennedys in their album mimicking his bold statement about tyranny of the British government.

There are those who claim that they may hurt only themselves by refusing to wear a mask, and that therefore to do so is their decision to make.  This claim, of course, is contrary to what most experts maintain--that wearing a mask protects others, not the wearer.  But our Republic has degenerated to the extent that the deluded live in a kind of alternate reality; one in which those with the knowledge needed to pronounce on the need, on the facts, are to be disregarded and even reviled.  Even if they do not live in Never-Never Mask Land, it seems that they feel that their preference in rejecting the titanic effort required to wear a mask, trumps, as it were, the health and well being of others.  How else explain their insistence on the so-called right not to wear a mask even when requested to do so by business owners rightly concerned about their customers and employees, and the possibility that their businesses may be shut down if they are tested positive for Covid 19?

This kind of self-righteous stupidity highlights the fact that the concept of rights has been perverted to the extent that people actually believe that they may do, and think, anything they want, and that this enormously selfish conceit is one they may delight in by virtue of being American.  Thus the belief in a "right" not to wear a small mask that serves to prevent the spread of a pandemic (though of course, for some, the pandemic is a hoax).  The right, in other words, not be be inconvenienced.

It's a notion that would have appalled the Founding Fathers, who strove so hard to create a government which would restrain the opinion of those unsophisticated and uneducated folk they believed made up the great majority of American citizens, and protect the knowledgeable.  For good or ill, the Founders were fearful of the majority.  I suspect that they would be amazed by our current state of affairs.

Perhaps there's more than one pandemic.  One impacts the body, the other impacts the mind.  The one affecting the body may be cured or mitigated.  All reliable evidence indicates wearing a mask will limit its spread, with very little effort.  But the one that affects the mind is such that it convinces those afflicted that wearing a mask is a limitation of their rights.  And nothing can be done with those who are convinced they have a right of some kind, to do or not do something, regardless of whether their exercise of that right is at another's expense--indeed, perhaps, especially because it is at another's expense.