Are You Happy Now, Norman Mailer?

May 30, 2008

Faith

Filed under: Life, Politics, Society — Len @ 1:57 pm
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As I have been thinking recently about reason and logic, I have found myself bumping up against the concept of faith and have deepened my appreciation for the role that faith plays in the lives of humans. Now, I’m not talking only about religious faith, although I think that the religious impulse informs–in a twisted form–these other expressions of faith. I’m talking about faith in political agendas and personalities and faith in ideas of conspiracies. I’m thinking about the many ways in which people believe passionately and fiercely in propositions and images and concepts that are not supportable by the facts as they stand or knowledge as it can be known.

People routinely confuse believing with knowing. We’re all prone to it and indulge in it constantly. Perhaps you don’t like somebody else’s looks and draw a series of conclusion about that person based on only that flimsiest of evidence. Perhaps you believe that Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington were the same person because you’ve decided that Napoleon was such an outstanding general that only he could have beaten himself. Perhaps you read a book that postulated that UFO aliens from outer space are floating among us disguised as dandelion fronds, and the notion just tickled your fancy and became an obsession. It doesn’t matter. We have all indulged in this gambit in either small or great ways. And belief, in and of itself, is not a terrible thing. However, whenever belief in something becomes an obsession, then things begin to go awry. Perspective is lost and reason’s tenuous grasp is loosened.

The thought occurred to me yesterday that belief in a conspiracy theory is not unlike religious belief. Both beliefs are predicated on the existence of something vast, ubiquitous, and invisible. Now, I’m not here to run down religion. I think there are many kinds of spiritual search, and since we are then talking about the search for something that transcends space and time, it becomes difficult to apply the same standards as can be applied to the idea that man never landed on the moon. The first can be neither proved nor disproved, although it can be discussed right into the ground. The second can be disproved by looking at the moon through a sufficiently powered telescope in order to view the junk we left behind after landing.

I think that one of the most glaring examples of this will to believe in recent history was the childlike belief that the Bush Administration had in Saddam Hussein possessing weapons of mass destruction. It would be almost touching if they hadn’t used that belief to unleash an extraordinary amount of suffering and privation. It’s easy, I think, to look at these clowns cynically and to conclude that they sat down in a rational fashion and said, “Let’s just cherrypick the information that helps us, no matter how tenuous, and ignore everything that doesn’t.” However, I would posit that they were just being true believers.

They indulged in every tactic of the conspiracy theorist. They claimed to have a knowledge greater than orthodox sources, and denigrated those orthodox sources at every turn. Rather than producing proof of their claims, they demanded refutation and refutation of every detail of their claims. As refutations accumulated, they constructed a series of rationalizations rather than offering reasoned responses. They sifted through the evidence available only for those bits that they could use to bolster their own case and never considered anything that challenged their assumptions. Opposing ideas were attributed to vested interests rather than being accepted as thoughtful contributions from experts in the field in question. They twisted facts so that they would better fit their conclusions. And they did all this in absolute certainty of the rightness of their conclusions and never once allowed doubt to enter their minds.

I’ll bet there is still the occasional NeoCon who expects Saddam’s secret cache of horrible weapons to be discovered soon, such as Douglas Feith or Dick Cheney.

Faith is a powerful thing that can sweep through us like a storm, which is why it is important that belief be tempered with rationality. Faith and rationality are not in opposition. They are two tools of the same set. Faith can set inquiry in action, and rationality tells us when to apply the brakes, when to alter our beliefs, and when to set a new course when the old one proves fruitless.

May 26, 2008

His Back Pages

Filed under: Music, Show Biz, writing — Len @ 9:18 pm
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Thanks to my cyber pal Kim at Mouse Medicine, I found out that today is Bob Dylan’s birthday. I wasn’t sure what to get him on such short notice, so I thought I’d just post some lyrics I started work on many years ago (maybe someday I’ll finish them) that were inspired by a song of his. The tune is that of “With God on His Side,” which might be Bob’s or might be traditional or might be Bob’s adaptation of a traditional tune. It doesn’t really matter. (And, as an aside, you might want to check out Bob’s XM radio show, Theme Time Radio Hour. You can get a three-day free trial. Just schedule it around Wednesday, when Theme Time Radio Hour is on around-the-clock on XM channel 2. It’s great show in which Bob plays songs from other artists, some well known and others not so much. His segues are funny and original. The whole thing’s a treat. Give it a try.)

Anyway, here’s my little bit of songwriting in Mr. Dylan’s honor:

Way back in the ’60s
I had my first thought.
And the guy who inspired it,
My God, he was hot.
His name was Bob Dylan,
And he never was wrong.
It just wasn’t a protest
Without Bob Dylan’s songs.

His voice was quite nasal,
This young voice of doom.
What I got for list’nin’
Was sent to my room.
No rumpus room priv’ledge,
I played no ping-pong.
Dad said only subversives
Played Bob Dylan songs.

Well, we had our Woodstock,
But also Kent State.
And, if that didn’t get you,
Then came Watergate.
I cut my hair short then,
And I sold off my bong.
I acquired a tie for
Some Bob Dylan songs.

Oh, Time, she’s a passin’.
She’s passin’ by me.
I woke up one day and
I was 43.
I had a big mortgage,
Two kids and a lawn.
It was hard to find time for
Those Bob Dylan songs.

Way back in the ’60s
My first thought I had.
But when I grew up I
Turned into my dad.
Yes, innocence fades, boy,
And it faded ere long.
And I don’t quite remember
Those Bob Dylan songs.

May 23, 2008

Strange Loyalties

Filed under: Life — Len @ 8:43 am
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Why do I always root for the king of hearts? This occurred to me this morning as I wasted a few of the precious moments of life by playing solitaire on my computer. The hand was moving along nicely, and it seemed likely that I would win. And, as I moved cards from file to file and built each stack, I started, as I always do, to hope that I’d finish the hearts first.

I’d say that this was a strange thing, but I don’t think it is. I suspect that it’s very common. These meaningless loyalties pop up throughout the day, every day, and I doubt that I’m the only practitioner. Two leaves fall from a tree, and I pick a favorite. Water is spilled on the ground and two streams race for the gutter. I pick one to win.

Loyalty is a very fundamental and necessary and sometimes detrimental aspect of human nature. Loyalty helps us form cohesive groups and can be drawn upon in times of great stress in order to produce great changes. It can also be turned poisonous and used to foment hatred and exclusion. Since loyalty is an emotion, it is rarely subjected to rational examination. It manifests itself in other emotions: love and hatred, pride and fear. It is possible to go through a period of intense loyalty as if in a dream. Events cascade by and all is emotional turmoil. And when that period is over, once that time has passed, we look back on our actions with disbelief and, quite often, rationalization.

The American Experiment is founded in reason, but that reason has often been drowned by swollen rivers of loyalty. The loyalty of the Southerners who fought, ultimately, to preserve injustice cannot be questioned in terms of itself. And yet hundreds of thousands died and hundreds of thousands more were wounded. Women were widowed and children orphaned and an entire great swath of the country was decimated and destroyed. Loyalty–to a state, to a region, to an institution that was evil and needed to die–caused great and horrible suffering, far more than it was worth.

And yet loyalty is necessary and so fundamentally human as to not be denied. Can we moderate it with reason? Let us hope so. Although the horrors and difficulties and struggles that unreasonable loyalties bring with them are with us still.

May 19, 2008

Small Things

Filed under: History, Life, Religion, Society — Len @ 8:23 am
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The other day while running an errand, I found myself behind a car that was behind a huge dump truck that had the words “FOLLOW ME AS I FOLLOW CHRIST” spelled out on its back gate, and I couldn’t help but hope that Christ didn’t stop short. For if He had, the owner of the dump truck would have had to change the legend to “CRASH INTO ME AS I CRASH INTO CHRIST.”

* * * * *

On a tangentially related note, this morning, as I lingered in line at a traffic light, I noticed a car in an adjacent lane that was traveling a bit too quickly and that braked a bit too sharply and that stopped with less than six inches between its front bumper and the rear bumper of the car in front of it. Affixed to the trunk of this car was one of those silver Christian fish symbols with the word “JESUS” fit inside it. This made me think of a new variation on WWJD. It’s HWJD. It stands for “How would Jesus drive?”

* * * * *

I’m so tired of those things anyway. Not the original symbol, mind you, just these modern metallic items that people are endlessly attaching to the backs of their vehicles in endless variations. The original symbol, the fish outline (I’ve just learned this is actually called an ichthys), was, of course, used by early Christians as a clue for the faithful in knowing where to go for worship. Now, for Christians, it’s merely a way of marking their vanity, not a way of marking the path to a secret meeting.

It wasn’t so bad when it was just the ichthys. Since Jesus spent a considerable amount of time, as quoted in the Gospels, speaking against being too public in one’s relationship to God, it wouldn’t be my choice were I to be a practicing Christian. However, I can understand that some people are just so brimming with pride in their relationship to Jesus that they just can’t help themselves.

The trouble, it seems to me, started when somebody decided to stick feet on the fish and to fit the word “DARWIN” inside it. Now, I have to admit that, when I first saw that, that I thought it was funny. However, there is an implication in it that just isn’t true, and that is that simply because someone is a Christian, they must be against the idea of evolution. That’s not only unprovable, but nonsense. Not all Christians are fundamentalists and to lump all Christians together into one mindless group is mere bigotry.

Unfortunately, the Darwin fish set off all sorts of responses, and it all degraded into a kind of bumper sticker debate, which is, I believe, the lowest point achievable in intellectual discourse outside of talk radio.

May 13, 2008

Logic

It seems to me that one of the great failings of our educational system is that we never teach our children how to think, and by that I do not mean that we need to try to indoctrinate them into some particular ideology or collection of thoughts. I mean they never learn how to reason properly and how to bring logic to an argument, a conversation, an election, or a decision, whether it is personal or for business. Americans tend to founder about logically. (This may also be true in other nations, but that is not my concern. I am an American, and Americans are all I really know about. For me to go beyond that boundary would be unreasonable.)

This subject has been on my mind recently because of politics and responses to recent posts of mine concerning Shakespeare and the mythical “authorship question.”

Notions put forward by the Clinton campaign as their vision of a cakewalk to coronation has fallen to pieces have repeatedly been self-serving, desperate, and lacking in logic. I’ll take a couple of quick examples to show what’s wrong.

One argument that really gets under my skin is the one that states that Hillary should be the candidate because she can “win in the big states.” The problem with this is that there is no logical connection between the results from these states in the primaries and the results in the general election. Some of those states are solidly Republican, and no Democrat could take them in the general election. Others are strongly Democratic, and unlikely to tumble the other way regardless of the candidate. And in pick ‘em states like Pennsylvania and Ohio, who’s to say how an Obama/McCain election would play out? The argument is nonsense because it relies on an analogy that cannot be made.

The second one that grates on my nerves is the one about certifying the delegates from Michigan and Florida based on the results of the primaries they held outside of party rules. The Clintons try to cast this as being about voting rights, which it isn’t. No one was disenfranchised. There is no requirement that any state hold a primary in order for that state’s party to determine how its delegates will be selected for the National convention. There is no legal requirement for any system or set of systems to be used.

However, the Democratic parties in both these states were warned by the Democratic National Committee that their delegates would not be seated if they held their primaries before Feb. 5th, and they did so anyway. At the time, they figured that there would be some runaway leader and that it wouldn’t matter whether their delegates were seated or not. It must also be remembered that all the candidates involved agreed to this procedure. It didn’t sneak up on anybody, least of all the Clinton campaign. Harold Ickes, one of that campaign’s bigwigs, signed off on that rule when it was made. The good Senator and a prominent member of her family only started worrying about “disenfranchising voters” when it became politically expedient for them to do so. In this case, the argument is flawed because it is not properly based in the facts.

Just yesterday, she was quoted as saying, “I keep telling people, no Democrat has won the White House since 1916 without winning West Virginia,” which attempts to establish causality where none exists. Which is so much of what you get from the Oxfordians.

In their enthusiasm for their cause, they tend to fall into a series of logical traps, one of the most common of which is assuming causality where none can be shown. In the comments to a post called “Beards,” a commenter writes that Shakespeare’s name is not on any quarto published before 1598. He then notes that Lord Burghley–the queen’s chief adviser and the most powerful man in England at the time–died in 1598. He then avers (although I have not taken the time to track down the facts because I have a job and a family that come before this argument) that Shakespeare’s name first appears on a quarto after Burghley’s death. He then comes to the conclusion that Burghley’s death somehow precipitated the emergence of Shakespeare’s name on the quartos.

However, this is, quite technically, a logical fallacy. It is called post hoc ergo propter hoc, and it is the supposition that simply because one event follows another that the first event caused the second. Other events–such as the jailing of the printer who published a pirated edition of Romeo & Juliet–are ignored and skipped over. Can they show cause and effect from the facts? No. Since they wish to see a connection, the connection is formed.

Another example (and many more can be found) of the poor reasoning associated with the Oxfordian cause is their assertion that the Earl must have written Hamlet because he was once abducted by pirates and, in a letter from Hamlet to Horatio, it is claimed that Hamlet’s ship was beset by pirates. There is, of course, the usual twisting of facts, and Hamlet is made out to have been dumped naked on the shores of Denmark when his letter, in fact, states that he was treated well and released. However, without the twisting, the occurrence of pirates in both the life of the Earl and the fictional Prince of Denmark sounds coincidental. It must be jerryrigged in order for it to make sense as a “clue.” Of course, the whole logic is flawed. That Hamlet was abducted by pirates is nothing more than a plot device and nothing that the writer couldn’t have devised without having had the experience for himself. Further, using the same logic, I can state that there are pirates in Treasure Island, and that therefore the Earl is also the author of the works of Robert Louis Stephenson. It’s all wishful thinking and not based in fact and the scientific method.

Now, to be fair, Shakespeare’s orthodox biographers are not immune to to such capering. Stephen Greenblatt’s Will in the World read more like a boy’s adventure novel than a serious biography, and the only reason why I didn’t fling it out the window while reading it was because I was on a plane at the time and doing so would have condemned 150 innocent people to a fiery death. It is speculative and fruity with phrases such as “he must have” and “we can infer,” phrases that are merely cover for the plain and simple fact that the author is making most of it up out of whole cloth. (The Oxfordians prefer formulations such as “many people believe,” which really means “because I assert.”)

Claire Asquith wrote a book called Shadowplay: The Hidden Beliefs and Coded Politics of William Shakespeare in which she puts forward the theory that Shakespeare was a secret Catholic and that he merely wrote his plays as an excuse to transmit coded messages to the other secret Catholics in his audience. This one I had to put aside before I harmed someone by turning it into a projectile. It suffers from the same basic flaw that I find in the Oxfordian cause: “Evidence” is manufactured by the simple desire to find it. She manages to turn these magnificent, breathing, and breathtaking plays into a sort of Orphan Annie decoder ring to no one’s benefit.

There have been two other major biographies in recent years that I have read, Michael Wood’s Shakespeare and Peter Ackroyd’s Shakespeare: The Biography. Both try valiantly to hew to the facts, but can’t in the end. Michael Wood, unfortunately, hasn’t met the piece of gossip or most far-fetched connection that he doesn’t love, and he speculates wildly about things that can’t be known. Ackroyd, whose book is chockful of useful information about Shakespeare and the period he lived in, often falls into the trap described above in which he uses phrases like “he must have” to dress up the assertion of pure opinion as statements of verifiable fact. It’s too bad. It’s a good book, but it could have been truly a fine one with less speculation.

The difference between the Oxfordian (and other pretenders) cause and the orthodox view, however, is that it is possible to write an orthodox book that is based entirely in fact. I can say this because the best of the recent biographies, Bill Bryson’s Shakespeare: The World as Stage, does precisely that. Bryson is to-the-point and entertaining, and his book is the perfect starter volume for the person who is just dangling a toe in the biography of Shakespeare.

It’s fun to speculate. I am hardly immune to it. However, there is a difference between speculation and scholarship. The human mind is a wonderful thing, but it likes to see order and patterns where none exist. This is why we can look at clouds and see baskets of kittens and Moe hitting Curly with a wrench in their forms. This is why we have the scientific method. You form a hypothesis and test it against the facts. And if that works to the disadvantage of your hypothesis, you don’t re-engineer the facts and skip the ones you don’t like. You get a new hypothesis. One based in facts, not in suppositions.

May 9, 2008

It Beats the Hell Out of Arguing

Filed under: Uncategorized — Len @ 7:54 am

Okay. Today we present two of my British comedy crushes together for the first time: Stephen Fry and the Two Ronnies.

May 8, 2008

Beer Goggles or . . . .

Filed under: Uncategorized — Len @ 4:54 pm

I’m still tired of being all serious. Here’s one more:

A Royal Christmas

Filed under: Family, Society, TV — Len @ 8:34 am
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Deck the halls and all that, here’s another clip from QI:

May 7, 2008

The Invention of Hello

Filed under: TV — Len @ 7:50 am
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I’m stuck in a class for the next two days, so I’m planning on inflicting a couple of clips from QI in the meantime, just to keep my hand in. Here’s the first one, on the curious case of the invention of “Hello.”

May 6, 2008

Eternitie

Yesterday, I came across an article at the New York Times website by Donald Foster that had research that speaks to my recent piece concerning the Sonnets of Shakespeare. After reading his research, I have to retract some of what I wrote. In discussing the term “the onlie begetter,” I was wrong, completely and unquestionably. Excerpts from his article follow.

In the winter of 1983-1984, contemplating a doctoral dissertation on the Sonnets, . . . I [thought] I should learn something about the conventions of the age with respect to Renaissance book dedications, epigraphs, and prefatory epistles, about which I knew very little. So I parked myself at a microfilm reader and began to explore what was then a brand-new research tool called “Early English Books, 1475-1640,” a microfilm collection of every surviving English book, pamphlet, and single-page broadside printed during this historical period[.]

He finds the following in regards to the terms “our ever-living poet” and “onlie begetter.”

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the term “ever-living” was applied sometimes to deceased Christians (once, to Chaucer, a dead poet), but reserved usually for God. When poetry was attacked by Puritans as an idle pursuit, its defenders typically replied that the word poet (from the Latin poeta) means “maker,” and that God is himself a poet. This God-is-our-Poet trope appears in at least three books already known to Shakespeare by 1609 if not to Thorpe, including a book published by Shakespeare’s fellow playwright Thomas Heywood only four months before Shake-speare’s Sonnets.

Nor could a human begetter like William Shakespeare deliver on a promise of ETERNITIE, a blessing mentioned in hundreds of Renaissance book prefaces and dedications but referring always to eternal life in heaven, not literary fame, and promised, according to the convention, in Holy Scripture, not in the sugared sonnets of a London playmaker. For English readers of Thorpe’s generation, God in heaven was our EVER-LIVING POET (“Author,” “Creator”), as opposed to a talented mortal like Mr. Shakespeare, and God was also the only Maker who can truly promise us ETERNITIE.

Note that none of the sonnets offer eternity or eternal life. “Eternal lines” comes closest, but is not the same thing. Foster continues:

Who, then, was Mr. W.H., the only begetter of those ensuing 154 Sonnets? According to past scholarship, “W.H.” was either the young man eulogized by Shakespeare as “beauty’s rose,” or he was the person who supplied Thorpe with manuscript copy. Looking around, I found that those two inferences were probably mistaken as well. The “BEGETTER” in Renaissance texts was an absolutely commonplace metaphor referring always to the author.

Therefore,

Unless Thomas Thorpe was introducing a new twist to seventeenth-century convention, the “ONLIE BEGETTER” of the Sonnets had to be the mortal poet who wrote them.

So here’s what he makes of the dedication. Nothing could be less confusing, so let’s just leave that criticism in the trash bin where it belongs.

When I viewed the 1609 epigraph in the light of these historical conventions, Thorpe’s wish to the only begetter of Shakespeare’s Sonnets seemed no more original or mysterious than the greeting on a Hallmark card: “To Mr. W. H., the sole author of this text, I wish happiness in this life and eternity hereafter, as promised in Holy Scripture by our Maker, the ever-living Poet.”

Unfortunately, we do have to assume a compositor’s error for the “Mr. W.H.” instead of “Mr. W.S.” Or “Mr. W.SH.”

But that second initial is wrong. One might suppose, from this front-page salutation, that Shakespeare’s Sonnets were actually written by a Mr. William H.—fuel for new anti-Stratfordian conspiracy theories—were it not for the fact that Elizabethan printers often made mistakes when reproducing personal initials from manuscript copy. Such misprints occurred most often when the stationer of copyright did not have his own printing press, and paid someone else to do the printing—as Thomas Thorpe did the printer George Eld. Eld’s typesetter may have made a mistake, misreading a majuscule S for an H (letters that can look very much alike in the standard “secretary hand” of the seventeenth century). More probably, he just omitted a letter from Thomas Thorpe’s “Mr. W. SH.” (Shakespeare’s name during his own lifetime was abbreviated “W. SH.” on other publications; and Thorpe himself elsewhere signs himself “TH. TH.”)

Personally, I think, since Thorpe signs himself “T.T.” at the bottom, that “Mr. W.H.” was probably supposed to have been “Mr. W.S.” but I could be wrong, and I don’t think it can be proved beyond that.

No dark conspiracies, no convoluted theories, just good, straightforward scholarship.

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