Why Second Base is Scoring Position

You may have encountered a news story about the effect of the hormone oxytocin on the human propensity to trust other people. Sprayed in the nose, it apparently makes the subject more willing to risk giving money to a stranger. That’s really not so surprising. It has been known for quite a while that the hormone elicits maternal behavior so that it wouldn’t be surprising if it played a role in other kinds of bonding. But I expect that other conclusions remain to be drawn. For example:

Oxytocin, which does many other things as well, plays a key role in lactation. When the nipples of a nursing mammal are stimulated, oxytocin is rapidly released from the hypothalamus and stimulates the initial step of milk secretion. Which is supposedly why the washing and manipulation of the utter is an important preliminary to milking a cow. But the oxytocin not only promotes milk but also the milk of human kindness; and presumably, it is not only released when a baby does the sucking. Sexual caresses of the breasts probably also lead to oxytocin release and thereby increase willingness of a woman to take the plunge, always a risky choice.

In the Frogs of Aristophanes, Euripides quotes one of his own lines, “Persuasion, save in speech, no temple hath.” But Persuasion, who the Greeks imagined to be a goddess who helped out the bridegroom on the wedding night, might have another temple or two after all.

Minerva’s Kingdom

It has been repeatedly pointed out that the E.U. is not Holy, Roman, or an Empire. After the other day, it may be supposed that it is hardly even a union. I take a more hopeful view, though perhaps only because of a near total ignorance of European politics. Speaking parochially, I’d like to see Europe stick together, but not too well. In the ideal case, the E.U. would form a conglomeration of states far too strong to mess with but rather too loosely organized to throw its weight around aggressively.

House Rules

Finding things out has never been easier, at least for people who are already well educated and want to know. Unfortunately, the availability of reliable information does not guarantee that the public will be well informed. Very few take the trouble to educate themselves; and it remains exceedingly difficult and very expensive to convey simple facts to the mass of the population; and that’s true even in the minority of cases where corporations, political parties, and religions aren’t actively promoting ignorance and spreading lies.

I think we routinely overestimate human curiosity. People are fond of trivial novelty, of course, but the real surprises in this world require effort to comprehend. My nephew quotes a line from a song that goes (more or less): “Each household appliance’s another new science;” but an unknown idea is more hateful to most of us than a new fangled telephone is to your grandpa. Heraclitus said, “If one does not expect the unexpected one will not find it out.” If follows, apparently, that one will not find it out. Which partly explains why most of our political debates are fought over obsolete issues that have only an indirect or symbolic relationship to the real problems of the time. At great personal cost, the participants finally learned how to argue about abortion or state’s rights or stem-cell research. It’s just too much to ask that they learn a new game just because the old one is largely irrelevant; and any political agent who tries to alter the stale agenda has to fight not only his opponents but human inertia, which, contrary to Cicero, is the real power against which the Gods themselves struggle in vain.

We pretend that the ideological struggles of the day revolve around technical economic issues or the specifics of constitutional law as if whether prices are set by a governments or cartels is the most important problem with world trade and gridlock in Washington is a consequence of a quarrel over the proper construal of the doctrine of Federalism. Privatization arguments are particularly irrelevant, or so it seems to me, since the enormous corporations that stand to inherit traditional governmental functions are more like states than firms anyhow—the real issue is whether you prefer dirigisme or feudalism since, at least for the time being, a true third way is a very notional option. The great contests of our time are not about the how as much as the for whom, the cui in cui bono. Of course the shills for the various interests have every reason to perfume their advocacy with an incense of academic disinterest; and the people, for their part, would prefer to think that there is a nonpolitical solution to political problems; but over and beyond, or perhaps beneath, these particular motives is the tendency of minds once at rest to remain at rest.

A Base Line

A classic way to torpedo a historian’s reputation is to check the accuracy of the victim’s footnotes. When the procedure yields evidence of carelessness, the critic can argue a lack of professional standards. This technique would not pass muster in the sciences. Until and unless it could be established that the rate of error in the target’s work were greater than the average for his cohorts, the detected mistakes might as well be taken as evidence of the general sloppiness of historians rather than the particular incompetence of a single historian. As a matter of fact, since the reported background error rate in citations is on the order of 35 to 40%, you have to be a sorry researcher indeed to come in under the existing deplorable standard. Under the circumstances, one has to agree with Doctor House that full-body scans of patients are useless in making a diagnosis because they mostly just reveal that human bodies have lots of little suspicious lumps and shadows.

As my old boss Kay Chamberlain used to say, don’t tell me a number unless you’ve got another number to compare it to. And if that simple methodological maxim suffices for the book business, it ought to hold for historians, too, and perhaps other folks. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. When politicians are attacked for their sexual quirks, for example, nobody ever stops to ask to what extent the quirks are quirks and the accused are damned not for violating norms but simply for getting caught. All these years after Kinsey, we’re still acting shocked that people routinely commit adultery, cross-dress, or engage in homosexual behavior. Of course in mass societies, the factor that determines whether you suffer for your offenses is not the offense, which, indeed, you may not even have committed, but the ability of your enemies to make a dog and pony show out of your supposed taste for dogs and ponies. On the evidence, Conservatives are at least as prone to what is commonly mislabeled as sexual irregularity as the supposedly lascivious liberals whose morals they relentlessly denounce even as they don their seamed nylons and size 11 fuck-me shoes.

I have this recurrent dream in which I’m falsely accused of some crime or other. I’m on the stand and the prosecutor is raking me over the coals for assorted personal foibles irrelevant to my purported crime. I finally respond, “If I known you were charging me with original sin, I would have plead guilty.”

What is Enmerdement?

Ralph Sorensen, a biologist friend of mine currently on sabbatical writes:
“Being in Germany, I reflect on the question of how so bright, charming, and sly a group of people could have, in the person of their parents and grandparents, been seduced by Nazism. This leads me to reflect on Bush and the current American zeitgeist I am presently avoiding. I am awaiting publication of "The Eternal Liberal," given the vacuity of a term as abused by people who appear oblivious of a) the enlightenment b) the etymology of the term, and c) the fallacy of reducing all political thought to a single axis. Yes, being a "liberal" is not constitutive, but, rather, facultative (existential, not essential), but the definition of "Jew" had the same flexibility, did it not?”

What saddens me is the way in which the erstwhile liberals, eternal or temporary, duplicate so many of the responses of the German Jews to their own demonization, including insincere conversions to the religion of their oppressors, gratuitous professions of loyalty to the Reich, and endless self criticism. Nobody spends more time and ingenuity figuring out ways to bad mouth the Enlightenment and its values than liberal public intellectuals. The right-wing press harps on liberal arrogance and elitism, but it is the liberals themselves who compulsively elaborate the theme and provide the demagogues with complicated historical analyses explaining what’s wrong with progress and rationality. After all, the red-state folks don’t know much about the historical period or movement traditionally called the Enlightenment. At most they’ve heard the term someplace and don’t like the sound of it because it gives them the same bad feeling they get from the expression “Civil Liberties.”

The Deacon’s Masterpiece

As the Roman Empire in the West declined, the grandees of the time continued to build huge baths and basilicas as monuments to their greatness, though the dearth of resources and the decline of taste resulted in a showy but shabby grandeur reminiscent of Las Vegas. Better maintenance of existing structures would have been much more cost effective; but, then as now, janitors didn’t get much respect; and the cities gradually decayed. A somewhat similar pattern is emerging in our times. Our political economists and politicians promote policies that are obsessed with endless growth even though the problem we have to manage is precisely the end of growth. We celebrate the ethos—and ethics—of the entrepreneur even though the situation calls for a different kind of agent altogether. You often encounter young business types who like to make speeches about the need to welcome risk—a motivational theme that makes old CEOs smile since they know that the whole point is to make sure you’re shooting fish in a barrel—but taking risks when there isn’t anything worthwhile to win is just stupid. While opportunities for sensible risk taking will surely continue to occur in the future, the larger challenge will be to preserve as much of what we have as possible and that will require an outlook completely opposite to the current vogue for free-market boosterism in business and Neocon ruthlessness in politics.

Unfortunately, what ought to be the Golden Age of Maintenance Engineering will probably turn out to be something quite different. Though that would be unfortunate, it does offer the philosophical observer a special opportunity to study how things fail and, more specifically, why so many people are surprised when they do. On that second question, for example, I note that the threats to our continuing prosperity are not unknown or even unacknowledged, even by supporters of the status quo, who, however, typically address and dismiss them one by one as manageable as, indeed, they are if taken one by one. We could spend the necessary resources to fix up the roads, bridges, and harbors. We could stop increasing the Federal deficit. We could address the imbalance of trade. We could take steps to manage the consequences of global warming. We could find substitutes for liquid fuels as petroleum production declines. The problem, obviously, is that we have to do all these things at once and we’re currently not doing any of them.

One frequently encounters middle-aged ruins who point out that many alcoholics live long lives, that many smokers don’t get cancer, and that plenty of fat people are perfectly healthy. Our politicians have adopted this cheerful system of evasion on our behalf by incorporating a whole raft of optimistic estimates into their projections. Claiming, not without reason, that each element of the national system can withstand normal stresses, they ignore the evidence of how things fail. Like the Wonderful One-Hoss Shay of Oliver Wendell Holmes, each component of the whole may be equally strong—or, as is more accurate in our case, equally infected with a general flavor of mild decay—but the shocks that it will encounter on road are not similarly homogenous. We don’t know what’s going to tip over the cart—-perhaps some calamity of war, financial panic, religious strife, epidemic disease, or terrorism—but the scale of the bad consequences are likely to be very great since the overall strength of the fabric has been compromised by years of neglect.

Going Down

I don’t know whether Newsweek’s story about interrogators at Gitmo flushing the Koran down the toilet was true or false, though my guess is that the story was essentially correct and that its government source has simply recanted under pressure. A great many former prisoners have reported similar outrages. Why we should credit members of this administration over these victims is unclear to me. If the Secretary of State can insist that we didn’t ask for the Iraqi War (“This war came to us”), if senators like McCain can deny the plain message of the recently revealed British memo (“I do not believe that the Bush administration decided that they would set up a scenario that gave us the rationale for going into Iraq.”), if the military justice system can put the blame for Abu Greib on a handful of noncoms, it’s pretty clear that both the administration and its legions of enablers are deeply into the Big Lie.

As befits this new age of faith, all of this has a theological explanation. What you have to understand is that there are really two Purgatories, the one Dante wrote about where venal sins are purged in preparation for eternal bliss and the other purgatory where falling souls, still hampered by residual decency, undergo basic training for full-blown Hell. America is currently on the down escalator, but we’ve got a ways to go. Which is why Conservatives still bother with excuses. We aren’t torturing anybody. We aren’t torturing anybody without extreme need. We aren’t torturing anybody too much. Good people aren’t evil just because they do evil things. We can quit anytime. Torture is manly and admirable.

Archimboldian Philosophy

If only because it saves effort, we routinely overestimate the consistency of our world. In the formula of Mary Douglas, dirt is matter out of place, but if we don’t care to notice the disarray, the dirt doesn’t really matter. That there are chambermaids with the souls of duchesses and duchesses with the souls of chambermaids may occasion an observation or two in Proust, but it hardly threatens the class system. That our stream of consciousness is “a shitty run of category mistakes and non sequiturs” is equally inconsequential. Which is a good thing, because our Zeitgeist, like the clothes of the lady in the limerick, is surely in patches with everybody out of kilter in time, genre, register, and discipline. While there are certainly plenty of 21st Century polemicists with the outlook (and talents) of off-brand 18th Century philosophes, the serious discussion of real issues is sometimes reminiscent of that ancient precursor of the Internet, the Talmud, except that the sages aren’t talking with one another in the same language. Reading Brian Joseph and Richard Janda’s long and extremely eccentric introductory chapter to the Handbook of Historical Linguistics the other day, I couldn’t decide if I was more reminded of the Baroque splendor of the Nuova Scienza of Giambattista Vico or the oppressively relentless whimsy of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The motley is not merely stylistic. Trying to come to terms with language change, Joseph and Janda manage to meander through the particulars of a half a dozen intricate debates in other fields including thermodynamics, history, paleontology, developmental biology, theology, and philosophy as if wrestling with the Great Vowel Shift or the etymology of “Bunk” requires a comprehensive theory of Time itself in the historical linguist. The first sentence of an Old Chronicle of the City of Barcelona reads “In the beginning God created heaven and earth.” Similar quirk. The odd thing about this performance, however, is its reasonableness under the circumstances. These guys are presumptuous, but they have as good a right to be presumptuous as anybody else. Hubris is sometimes a duty.

Joseph and Janda face the problem, ubiquitous in our age, of dealing with the general in the absence of the universal. Instead of relating linguistic change and (for example) evolutionary change by abstracting out a purified philosophical sense of change, the authors use professional-level concepts of each alternatively to traverse the broken ground of various theoretical and practical issues. Sometimes punctuated equilibrium is good to think with, sometimes the ergodic hypothesis, sometimes the properly linguistic notion of grammaticalization. The absence of a master level of discourse rules out the drafting of a map, but not the writing out of an itinerary, always provided we can put up with the inelegance of literary forms required to match such a jumpy methodology. It’s not that anybody who wants to deal seriously with great issues has much choice, after all. Veritable knowledge cannot be any more compact and homogeneous than the reality it addresses. Coming up against the real strangeness and multiplicity of the world, it has at last become necessary for thought to conform to its object at the cost of forgoing the dream of an integral knowing subjects or even of integral totalizing disciplines. In the Bible, God inflicted the confusion of tongues on the people for trying to build a tower to heaven. In this version, we’re actively promoting that same confusion precisely in order to build the tower.

By the way, the advent of what I’m call Archimboldian thought, hardly spells the end of traditional philosophy. Much of what professional philosophers do is appropriately specialized and technical and can be cannibalized to good purpose by the scavenging bricoleur. Meanwhile more traditional “Great Ideas” philosophy also endures and prospers as a specialized form of public relations that satisfies the public’s metaphysical needs. The whole is just another one of the parts, but that’s hardly fatal to the commercial prospects of the next dozen versions of retail holism.

—the Librarian

Stories Just So or So So

The air went out of the tire back in the early 70s when a generation of young people suddenly realized that their educations weren’t going to automatically result in a higher status or even necessarily pay the bills. The economy, rapidly cooling down from a once in a millennium growth spurt, simply didn’t have room for so many college-educated people. Besides, there was always something contradictory about the American project of democratizing privilege. The disappointment of so many individuals played itself out in a great many forms of self-destructive behavior over and beyond the obvious trio of drugs, disco, and deconstruction. Much of the continuing political prosperity of the Right derives from a search for psychic compensation for shipwrecked hopes.

Whether you call it a talking point, a meme, or just a commonplace, modern conservatives frequently claim that their liberal opponents are mediocre characters who like the idea of social safety nets because they aren’t up to the bracing struggle of life. Implicit in this bit are the assumptions that the only things worth fighting for are money and perhaps power and, on a deeper level, that fighting is the inevitable form of meaningful activity. Apparently, they find it astonishing that anybody might aspire to something different and perhaps better than wealth or that many people don’t want to obsess about stocks and bonds because they have better things to do. In fact, what we have here is a simply projection. Having renounced ambitions they themselves think are more worthwhile, they detect a failure of ambition in those who have made other choices.

I doubt if even the most of the promoters of the religion of the market really think that there is something particularly wonderful about getting rich. Their avidity is often just the public face of a fear of loosing out and becoming déclassé, a motive that has turned more than one child of well-educated hippies into a CFO. Perhaps that’s why our new billionaires are such notable flops as patrons of the high culture. Unlike other ruling classes, they haven’t figured out how to make an art out of being rich or even enjoy themselves very much. Lefties attack them for their greed, but perhaps even that isn’t quite authentic.

At some point in the future, if there is very much of a future, the mentality of our times is going to be a puzzle. One can understand how the figure of the saint, the sage, the artist, the statesmen, the builder, the warrior, the inventor or the industrialist can capture the imagination of an age. What can you say about a civilization whose hero is the crony capitalist?

That’s More than We Know

This has got to be a rotten time to be an honorable soldier, spy, or bureaucrat. With the fix permanently in place, the guilty have every prospect of getting away with civil and military crimes so long as they are of sufficiently high rank. The innocent, however, can no longer be exonerated because the courts and commissions that might serve that purpose have no credibility. Once the government has solemnly announced that obvious malefactors such as Sanchez, Gonzalez, and Rumsfeld have no culpability for the mistreatment of prisoners, the presumption becomes that everyone is complicit, though the fairer conclusion is simply that we can no longer draw any conclusions about the behavior of individuals.

Risk and Integrity

Moral theories make history more or less unintelligible if they explain the fate of nations as the consequence of whether individuals act well or badly as if their choices were ultimate causes in themselves and not susceptible of further explanation. Though we’re the only actors in this play and what occurs is our doing, the consequences of our actions and therefore the meaning of what we do are at the mercy of a social context that escapes our control. It’s not that we aren’t free. We can do whatever we like inside the narrow set of options created by our cultural and social setting. Escaping that agenda is a vastly more difficult performance.

I love to rail against the mass-market journalists, but my petit bourgeois indignation is largely beside the point because their lack of integrity and competence is a consequence rather than a cause of the viciousness of the institutions they staff. It is perfectly possible for individuals to opt out of the propaganda machine. Indeed, many people do opt out; but whether or not absenting yourself from the scene of the crime is good for the soul, it is utterly inconsequential because thousands of replacements wait to carry on the thankless but hardly unrewarding task of corrupting public discourse. Dissident journalists are in the same boat as corporate whistleblowers. They can chose to tell the truth, but their actions are more likely to result in professional self-destruction than to effect change. The moral act thus becomes a gesture, theater without an audience. Indeed, the ruling professional mentality positively discourages such actions as juvenile acting out. If moral behavior has bad consequences for the moral agent, it cannot be moral. The categorical imperative is not a suicide pact.

America’s general lack of integrity is a consequence of other changes in our social and political system and does not imply that people have suffered an inexplicable loss of virtue. As Pravda used to put things, none of this is an accident. In 1950, many Americans had stable jobs in a growing economy. The government and the unions protected the rights of working people, and the college-educated could always teach. Since then, while most of us have not become impoverished, almost everybody’s livelihood and health are at much greater perceived risk and a bachelor’s degree guarantees nothing. At the same time, the level of income required to maintain a middle-class status has steadily increased and wealth and celebrity have replaced a plethora of other values as the bases for self-definition. To be sure, there are still scholars, poets, and even saints (of a sort); but the notion of respectable poverty is a museum piece. Certain criminals aside, one simply cannot be famous and poor—even Maya Angelou is a millionaire. Under these circumstances, people do what they have to do to win because coming in second has become disastrous while to live in a merely decent fashion is barely decent. The increase in social risk guarantees that the nation will be full of trimmers and ass kissers.

Darkness at Noon

One is encouraged to love the sinner but hate the sin. That’s pretty much how I feel about Catholics and Catholicism. The laity is infinitely better than the secretive and tyrannical institution that routinely abuses them financially, intellectually, and sexually. Outside the hierarchy, one often encounters a tolerant and modest spirituality that understands the church as a community of loving people rather than a rigid, exclusionist organization in which a self-perpetuating priesthood lords it over a passive flock. Inside, in the service of the paramount goal, the sheer survival of the divine machine, even thoughtful and cultivated men become toadeaters and tyrants, cutting endless dishonorable deals with secular thugs and crushing internal dissent.

During the Cold War it was a commonplace to claim that Communism was a religion. The reverse analogy also holds. Just as the commissars always decided that the humane and universal goals of Marxism had to be sacrificed to maintain socialism in one country, the popes will always decide that the needs of suffering people are not as important as the survival of the church itself. Unlike the Reds and their own predecessors, the current batch of men in red hats can’t simply murder heretics but they can still humiliate them after secret ecclesiastical trials—the new Pope’s former job was to supervise these invisible, bureaucratic pageants. And over the centuries catholic intellectuals have found themselves again and again in the position of leftist writers, trying to defend the indefensible and remain loyal to an ideal that has no real presence in the visible church. When I read Cardinal Newman or Lord Acton or Hans Kung submitting to Roman discipline, I’m reminded of the way the French Communist party routinely vilified its non-proletarian supporters as second-class radicals and potential traitors to the cause and how all those academics and novelists willingly participated in their own abasement.

The Elitism of the 80th Percentile

It’s been a while since Socrates recommended understanding the state as the soul writ big, but a host of philosophers and psychologists have followed his suggestion right up to the present. It has recently been suggested, for example, that the political pattern of the executive who decides among the options presented to him by his counselors mirrors the way that decisions are actually made in the brains of individuals as the frontal lobe presents alternatives to some central coin-flipper. In another version of the theme, one more faithful to Plato, the various classes of political actors are related to levels of mental functioning in an updated, psychometric version of the divided line. In this rendition, the public at large just has to be manipulated since it can only be register images and emotional appeals— inexplicable dumb shows and noise. Expecting to get anywhere with even straightforward arguments makes about as much sense as erecting Braille billboards to reach the blind market. Full rationality only sets in somewhere North of 120 and only applies to a small fraction of our species. Since individuals of normal intelligence are simply incapable of operating at a fully adult level, they must be governed by rigid rules backed up by overt rewards and punishments and can never be expected to govern themselves by universal rational principles, even assuming, as many people don’t, that there are universal rational principles of right and wrong.

Stated thus baldly, IQ elitism makes a bad impression; but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t appeal to a great many individuals, including quite a few who go out of their way to come across as just plain folks when they’re playing to the cheap seats. Anyhow, to be fair, everybody recognizes that children have to be trained before they are educated and that prohibitions have to come before explanations if you don’t want your kids to run over somebody or to be run over themselves. It isn’t much a stretch to conclude that the mass of the population will never grow up and that politics has to take this fact into account. Indeed, in my experience, the familiar denunciation of liberal moral relativism has nothing to do with asserting the objectivity of ethics and everything to do with pedagogic realism, especially since so many conservatives are committed to an irrationalist theory of ethics anyhow. It is the liberals who are more likely to be rigorous moralists of a Kantian or semi-Kantian stripe.

I hardly have democratic instincts, and I certainly think that de facto intellectual incapacity of the majority of mankind has all kinds of implications for practical politics. Unfortunately, assuming that most people cannot make reasonable choices about their own lives quickly becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy as the public is saturated with violent emotional appeals conveyed by the latest in high-tech propaganda techniques. No fair spending billions to make people worse so your pessimistic assessments will be proven right or to denounce their stupidity after so many years of attempting to stupefy ‘em. Fact is, we don’t know how enlightened the mass of humanity may become. I expect a philosopher of the Roman Empire would have scoffed at the notion that the mass of people could ever be literate.

Extractive Industries

In the Middle Ages and Renaissance, miners believed that precious metals would grow back in exhausted mines if the digs were left fallow long enough. The Republican Party, perhaps because it harbors so many mining interests, seems to have a similar notion about the American middling classes. To judge from their taxation and debt policies, the Conservatives seem to think that they can indefinitely go on extracting a disproportionate share of resources from the ordinary folks without bringing about the permanent impoverishment of the class. Or maybe they figure that the middle-income stratum is as doomed as the Atlantic cod, and they may as well harvest as much of the wasting resource as possible. The bit about the fools rushing in does not apply either to fishermen or vultures.

For all their rhetoric about limited government, moneyed interests need a large and expensive government to protect them from enemies foreign and domestic, to keep the corporations from eating their own kind, and to subsidize the scientific research indispensable to economic growth. They also need the government to provide welfare services to the working poor because absent free clinics and public housing they’d eventually have to pay higher wages out of their own profits so that the proletarians can go on producing proles. The trick is to get all these benefits at a discount instead of bearing the costs of big government through an equitable tax system. Resources must be mined from somewhere, and the only available store of wealth is in the middle—not enough meat on the poor.

You’d think that the folks in the middle would eventually catch wise to all this; but the one tax that has gone up in every year of the Bush administration is the tax on stupidity; and the people in Kansas have yet to notice what a high bracket they’re in. They probably won’t notice for a while longer, either, because there are still family savings to go through to send the kids through college and home equity to borrow against. Above all, the Republican program is protected by the vanity of the small fry, who persist in believing that they are genuinely bourgeois when they are really just working people who have been flattered into thinking they are something grander.

The interesting question to me is what the right does as we pass the peaking point.

Providence

With the last bit of profit wrung from the passion of Terry Schaivo, the media looked anxiously around for its next obsession, trusting that just as Diana succeeded O.J. and Jackson followed Monica, some fundamentally trivial but sensational happening would provide the occasion for a fresh round of moral theater featuring artificially sweetened sentiment, recreational grief, and/or fabricated anger. It didn’t have to wait even a day. I guess it is appropriate that the Catholic Church got around to supplying the entertainment this time since the papacy pioneered the creation and exploitation of emotional hysteria. St. Bernardino, the Rush Limbaugh of the 16th century, could have stepped into a job at Fox without a moment of further training. Of course the death of a very old and very sick man is not remarkable or tragic; but properly spun it can supply yet another way to deflect public attention from important issues, including, in the case, the very important and very problematic things John Paul II did when he wasn’t dying.

Lines Masquerading as Volumes

Young historians attack the archives armed with hypotheses, which, though it is probably the best way to get your degree, has a signal disadvantage. It isn’t just that the people in the past weren’t doing their damnedest to give birth to the present. Their preoccupations don’t normally have much overlap with ours. An historian expecting to find Philip II obsessing about the rights of the unborn is like the gnat that asked Alice what insects she rejoiced in back home. Or, to reverse the temporality, imagine a time-traveling imperial chancellor asking W about his stand on the Investiture Controversy. Whole eras doubtless have more bandwidth than individual human beings, but the agenda is necessarily extremely narrow since in the absence of radical selectiveness, disagreement would be as impossible as consensus in the vast, deserted forest of the possible. It follows that to actually encounter the past, it is first of all necessary to become familiar with its hobbyhorses and that requires a certain amount of aimless rambling in the sources, not a very popular activity in our rapid age.

Run Over by an Ambulance: Convenient (Traditional Chinese Saying)

Reverse plagiarism—claiming that somebody else wrote your words—used to be more common than direct plagiarism because authority was a much more valuable commodity than words, which, after all, can be improvised on the spot. Nowadays we fetishize originality, but reverse plagiarism still has its uses. The Soviet-era literary critic Michel Bahhtine, silenced by Stalin, published many of his most important critical works under the name of various party apparatchiks, and right-wing publicists regularly quote the pseudo-Abraham Lincoln to bolster their ideological prejudices with stolen prestige. For my part, I find that reverse plagiarism allows me to float more ideas than I have a license to conceive since it isn’t quite decent to contain multitudes. Besides, there are certain notions that not only deserve to circulate, but deserve to circulate as anonymous proverbial wisdom without the impediment of any author whatsoever. For example:

Every time somebody complains that liberals only love mankind and not men, I find myself reaching around for a folksy counter that might point out in a concise and earthy fashion that a statistical approach to human affairs reflects a basic ethical principle, the equal claim that every person has on our moral respect. By the time you’ve typed in that many words, you may as well deliver a lecture to the normal distribution and the Second Critique while you’re at it. So I’m very tempted to appeal to that old proverb, “One man’s blood has as much salt in it as another.”

Second instance: A number of books and articles have been written about the appeal of Republican politics to people whose interests are seriously harmed by Republican policies—on a per capita basis, the red states benefit vastly more from Federal money than the blue and good old boys are much more likely to go bankrupt than professional people in Connecticut. Just as few of the poor sods who got gunned down marching up Seminary Ridge owned slaves or benefited at all from the semi-feudal society of the South, working people support the initiatives of the Conservatives who routinely exploit them. Which is why I want to quote the saying, “Mistreated dogs are the most loyal” as if there were such a saying.

Uncle Fuckers of the Black Hills

I recently watched the first six or seven episodes of HBO’s Deadwood series. The characters in this revisionist Western swear interminably, and after a couple of nights of listening to them, I found myself casually telling a secretary on the phone, “Yeah, that’s the right report. I read the whole fucking thing.”

By the way, if you can avoid the consequences of spending so much time in bad company, you should certainly give Deadwood a try, precisely for its language. In between the “limber-pricked cocksuckers” and other Homeric epithets, the dialogue features a texture and density that exploits the whole range of registers from the merest expletives to self-conscious preciosity—a virtuoso instance of what Bahktine meant by the dialogic. Corking good story, too, though the principle villain is perhaps a bit too much like the Butcher in Gangs of New York.

Formal Constraints

The theory of history you espouse has a lot to do with how many sentences you’re willing to devote to its description. A one- paragraph history of the world has just enough room to promote idealism, but the one-liners are liable to sound rather Marxist:

History is the story of how various elites struggled with one another over who was going to get to abuse the mass of the population.

An Homage to Chesterton

Anybody who participates in an Internet discussion soon discovers that the range of audible opinions is extremely narrow. It’s not that original notions don’t appear. They do, but for the most part they rapidly disappear because they are not acknowledged. The Law of Least Hassles takes care of that. To put things in a Piagetian way, adults find it far easier to assimilate input to their existing kit of mental structures than to accommodate significant novelties by actually learning something new. But one shouldn’t assume that the apparent deafness of the public is absolute. From time to time, minds do get changed after all. Effect lags behind cause, however, because processing new ideas requires neurological changes and even more because most of us are too vain to lose an argument on the spot—it would be like taking a dump in public.

Like the catatonic and the comatose, normal individuals register more than they let on. Which is why, for example, radicals who become reactionaries and reactionaries who become radicals don’t have to learn any new rhetorical moves; and, more generally, why the Zeitgeist is able to lurch so rapidly from one set of unwarranted assumptions to another—it’s very easy to overlook the long period of preparation. The pattern is especially obvious in the case of intellectuals who support traditional versions of religion. Granted the prideful perversity natural in a strong mind, defending an indefensibly silly set of ideas is a great pleasure; but even great pleasures eventually stale. At that point it suffices to simply give up the game. One hardly has to be convinced of anything since the mere truth of the secular position had been registered long before.