The First Day of Spring (Subjective)

Objectively, spring is still almost a month away.  Subjectively, it was eighty degrees and sunny today, and the pear trees have broken out in beautiful white blossoms.

What a fine day for a ride.

A couple of miles away, a neighbor's heraldic sign.

A Troll Valley-style house in Hartwell, Georgia.

A similar but nicer home -- sadly some of the details are obscured by the tree.  Note the Scottish Rampant Lion flying beneath Old Glory.

A fine day to wash your boots in the Savannah River.

Down by the riverside.

Currahee Mountain, on the return leg.

On 'The Ethicists'

Parents should be able to kill their newborns, argue a panel of ethicists in a new paper, because they are not actually people; they are only potentially people.  The core of the argument lies in the definitions:

“Both a fetus and a newborn certainly are human beings and potential persons, but neither is a ‘person’ in the sense of ‘subject of a moral right to life’.  We take ‘person’ to mean an individual who is capable of attributing to her own existence some (at least) basic value such that being deprived of this existence represents a loss to her.”

The academic use of "her" to avoid sexism is unusually appropriate, since the majority of abortions are of female children.

The argument sounds at first blush like the kind of argument I would expect from an ethicist with proper training, because the potential/actual distinction was important to Aristotelian theories of generation.  This arises from the form/matter distinction, and from Aristotle's theory of motion and change.  In Physics 1, he argues that in order for change to be possible, you must have two contraries and a substratum to move between them.  Thus, for something to become hot, hot must exist; and so must not-hot; and then there must be a third thing that isn't as hot as it could be, but moves towards maximal hotness.  That which defines how hot it is possible to be is 'the actuality of hot.'

In the case of generation, form and matter are joined; but the child does not have the full actuality of Man or Woman.  Obviously, at birth, the child still retains substantial potential, and it advances toward that potential over the course of its growth.  Thus, if we define an actual person on Aristotle's terms, we could say that a child isn't an actual person until the child achieves its full growth both in frame and reason.

The ethicists, however, aren't doing anything as interesting or subtle as that; they are proposing a binary standard rather than a sliding scale of acutality,.  Presumably a two-year-old would be 'an actual person' under this standard.

There are several things that I might say about this.

1)  On the history of the idea:  Aristotle himself viewed infanticide as undesirable except when the child was deformed, or in cases when population pressure made it necessary (both more serious considerations in the ancient world, when scarcity of food was a far more severe and immediate concern).  He opposed abortion after the child had developed sensation, not reason.  (Politics VII 1335b20-30, but see also History of Animals VII Part 3, which proposes based on dissection that male but not female children will have organs such as eyes -- that is, the necessary conditions for sensation -- at forty days' gestation.)

Interestingly, the 40-day standard was being enforced by the Church in Charlemagne's day:  a woman who arranged the abortion of her child after it was forty days' old in the womb was subject to three years of penance, while a woman who did so earlier was subject only to a year's penance.  The secular law, however, treated anyone who assisted in an abortion (as for example by providing abortifacient drinks) as a homicide.  (See Pierre Riche, Daily Life in the World of Charlemagne, page 50).

That was not the case throughout the Western world, however; some followed the Aristotelian view and some other views on infanticide and abortion -- generally, after the second century AD, alternative views were much harsher.

2)  On the proposed standard of the ethicists:  Indeed it may not be obvious that the child has substantially more or less moral standing ten minutes before birth or ten minutes after; no more than wine in a pitcher is substantially different ten minutes before being poured into a glass than it is ten minutes after (unless, of course, it has been drunk; in that case, it has achieved its most blessed state about that time).

Some objections:  before the umbilical cord is cut, the child is factually dependent on the mother for survival; afterwards, it is not.  It has the capacity (but not the actuality, to stay with that distinction) of being independent long before then; but if the actuality is what counts, it does not yet have it.  If independence is what counts, though, the child will still die without someone's care -- but it need not be the mother's, after that, so perhaps that is why she loses the right to dispose of the thing once it is born.

Alternatively, we might note that the experience of childbirth is a traumatic passage for everyone involved, not easily dismissed as meaningless.  It may be that the act of birth is something that is important to our society as a rite of passage:  and the child, having survived it, has thus passed into personhood ritually.  In that case, the ethicists are barking up the wrong tree:  the personhood of the child is nothing to do with the child, but with the rites of society.  That would be coherent with many human cultures, in which rites of passage are just so abrubt:  a child goes from a boy to a man in a day, or a week, or an instant, but the rite once complete is absolute.

3)  The question of value is interesting.  The child (according to them) does not itself value life; and so, if no one else values its life, its life is without value.  That is a remarkably capitalist position to take on human life.

4)  If we do want to return to a form/matter concept regarding the child, science has provided us with a genuine idea of what the form of a man or woman would be.  It is their DNA structure, which does exactly what Form in the ancient sense is supposed to do:  it organizes and structures the matter.  This is a living principle, which exists from fertilization and begins to work as soon as the zygote begins to divide.  Thus, we learn from scientific inquiry that there is not the movement in childhood from 'potentially Man' to 'actually Man.'  Rather, the Form of each individual is unique, and it is actually possessed by -- and only by -- the child from fertilization.

If possession of an actual human Form is what distinguishes an actual human being, then the child is actually human from the first moments of its life.

Bellavia for Congress

One of our own has apparently decided to hang it out in the wind.



His book on Fallujah is the best book I know of on that part of the Iraq War.  If you want to help him out, go here.

The Sacred

I've begun watching the early episodes of a show called "Breaking Bad," about a high-school chemistry teacher in Albuquerque whose response to a life crisis is to start cooking meth with one of his ne'er-do-well ex-students. I thought it would be a nihilistic exploration of a disintegrating personality, but instead the script turns at every point on the central character's convincing moral choices under unbearable pressure. Not good moral choices, but believable ones, and demonstrated with economy in a fine script.

The main actor spends very little time explaining himself. His sidekick, the young student, is struggling harder to put into words what one human being owes to another. In one episode they face two tasks, one even more horrifying than the other. After quarreling for a bit over who should do which, the young man suggests a coin toss, which the teacher loses. The young man takes care of his own horrible job, only to find the older man procrastinating about his, which provokes the outraged outburst that "coin toss is sacred, man." When you expose yourself in good faith to the outcome of a tool of chance, you live with the result. You hang onto that moral precept even though you seem to have left the world of virtue far behind, and the coin toss is about profound crimes that are disintegrating your identity.

In some part of us, we know there have to be moral laws even if we ostensibly think the universe is a vast, materialist, meaningless void.

The Joust

Several of you have written to ask if I've seen the new "Full Metal Jousting" show on the History channel.  I hadn't, although I was aware of it; but now there is a full episode online if you want to watch it.  I hope the sport takes off, and I will be glad to watch it once it is a sport instead of a reality-TV show about people trying to start a sport.  Once it's more like PBR, I'll be glad to spend an evening with it.

By coincidence, I was doing some research yesterday and came across an article that says that re-enactment Medieval tournaments were very popular in the American South both before and after the Civil War.  The author began his career as a Marxist historian, but apparently his studies of Southern conservatism converted him.  In any case, it's an excellent article that shows how significant chivalric literature was to the education of Southerners in the 19th century; it's on EBSCOhost if you don't have JSTOR, and if you have neither, you can probably get it via your library.  Ask at the reference desk.

In any case, at the time the tournaments were roundly mocked by those outside the South.  Then as now, New York journalists were only too eager to explain how ridiculous it was not to be up with the latest progress.  Our historian relates:

John Houston Bills, a planter in western Tennessee, whiled away his spare hours early in 1866 by reading tales of the crusades, and in October he reported: "To day the great and long expected 'Tournament' comes off--1200 to 1500 persons attend it--the Tilting is Very spirited, a dozen or more Knights enter the Contest-Brewer of Holly Springs wins the prize, a fine horse--Betty Neely was crowned queen of Love & Beauty."

The editors of the Nation, then as now exemplars of New York provincialism and effrontery, exploded:

Any country in which it is the custom, in our day, to assemble in great crowds to watch men doing these things in broad daylight, dressed up in fantastic costumes, and calling themselves "disinherited knights," " knights of the sword," "knights of the lone star," and pretending to worship a young woman from a modest wooden house in the neighborhood as the "queen of love and beauty," and to regard the bestowal of a shabby theatrical coronet by her as the summit of earthly felicity, we need not have the least hesitation in pronouncing semi-civilized.

The editors of the Nation could not be contradicted. What, after all, could be more absurd[?]

Think of their bad taste in treating young ladies from modest wooden houses as if they were queens of love and beauty.

 Yes, think of that.

I Guess Madness Runs In The Family:

My sister writes to report that she just had a wonderful run up in Wyoming..  She's training for a marathon again, and the run was 15 miles.  She says that the usual pain she's been experiencing didn't appear, just some blisters she puts down to having been wearing these at the time.

Apparently the roads were icy because of an ongoing snowstorm.  I'd say something cutting about the quality of her judgment, but honestly, I have no standing to do so.  I haven't committed this particular offense against right reason, but I have certainly committed others at least as bad.

The Fields of Athenry

A Vice that Leans Toward Virtue

The man who does not know who his great-grandfather was, naturally enough would not care what he was. The Caskodens have pride of ancestry because they know both who and what. 

Even admitting that it is vanity at all, it is an impersonal sort of failing, which, like the excessive love of country, leans virtueward; for the man who fears to disgrace his ancestors is certainly less likely to disgrace himself.

Charles Major (under the pen name Edwin Caskoden) wrote these lines in the introduction to his novel set in the early years of Henry VIII.  I have a copy of his book -- first American edition! -- because not long ago I stopped my motorcycle by a ramshackle old Georgia building in Carlton, Georgia (once locally important as a farming town located on the railroad line, but now, population 233).  You can see a few pictures of the town here; the only building that remains in very good repair is the Post Office.

The antique store had a copy forgotten on a back shelf, for which they asked three dollars.  It is no surprise to find a book like this in Georgia, although it was too late to share the blame that Mark Twain put on Ivanhoe.

It's proving to be a very good book, with some memorable scenes and lines.  This one right at the introduction especially caught my interest.  It's an interesting concept:  a vice that leans toward virtue.  This particular vice is perhaps unique in that regard, because it is pride:  and pride has a conflicted history in the West.

This good sort of pride is really honor.  To honor is to give of yourself for something or someone worthy; honor is the quality of a man who does.  Thus the pride in one's ancestry is a form of respect for the worthy things they have done; and if you demonstrate your respect for them by trying to live so as not to disgrace them, you have become a man of honor yourself.

The vice of pride is something like vanity, and in this guise its history is far less noble.  To some degree the difference in emphasis is between the non-Christian and Christian elements that make up Western civilization, but not entirely.  There is a qualitative difference between these two expressions:  the one is a form of sacrifice, and the other a form of self-service.

You may enjoy the book, in any case.  It takes the trouble to flatter the reader by making the hero -- a young soldier of energy and skill -- a great lover of books, which is not entirely out of the realm of possibility.  It was just such a love of letters among an active and warlike people that made Ivanhoe such an influence in the South, and that doubtless brought this particular copy of the book to Georgia in its first available edition.

Irrationality

Today Mickey Kaus points to a book from 1978 that demonstrates what he calls an 'eerie prescience.'  The book's thesis is...

...that control of politics has passed out of the hands of the majority in part as a consequence of the development of a body he identifies as "the new elite", whose self identity is based not on ties to a specific community, but on a common reference to "scientific" measurement of intelectual capacity by grade scores and class achievements. This, he contends, drives an anti-majoritarian urge, which removes control from the hands of the electorate. The "new elites" do not accept the principle that all others are entitled to a valid and meaningful vote on issues which concern all of society.

Indeed.  So today, we have a ruling on the Defense of Marriage Act, passed by a democratic majority.

The Court finds that neither Congress' claimed legislative justifications nor any of the proposed reasons proffered by BLAG constitute bases rationally related to any of the alleged governmental interests. Further, after concluding that neither the law nor the record can sustain any of the interests suggested, the Court, having tried on its own, cannot conceive of any additional interests that DOMA might further.... 

Prejudice, we are beginning to understand, rises not from malice or hostile animus alone. It may result as well from insensitivity caused by simple want of careful, rational reflection or from some instinctive mechanism to guard against people who appear to be different in some respects from ourselves.

This is not the first time we've talked about this claim that there is "no rational basis" for this definition of marriage.  I remain astonished by the claim, however, because this definition of marriage is backed by a huge amount of rational argument, with a history of hundreds of years.  Just last fall, we looked at Aquinas' arguments on whether matrimony arises from natural law.

Let's make two points about this.

1)  Note the list of citations in the series of sophisticated arguments offered.  The principle cited sources are Cicero and Aristotle, from works on ethics, rhetoric, and politics.  There is only one Catholic text cited, and it's offered as an example of an argument Aquinas rejects.  This underlines the point -- recently made to the German parliament -- that natural law theory is not a Christian but a secular philosophy, one that arises chiefly from the Stoics but also from Aristotle.

2)  Aquinas follows Aristotle and Boethius in defining humanity in terms of its rational nature.  "A person is an individual substance of rational nature."

My point here is not that Aquinas' definition is right, or impossible to argue against, or that you should personally adopt it.  It is that the claim that this definition is without a rational basis is indefensible.  It is simply impossible to sustain that argument.

How much easier, though, to assert it!  How much easier to declare that the problem is "a simple want of careful, rational reflection" -- and that of a tradition founded on Aristotle, Aquinas, Cicero, Boethius, and the Stoics!

"Poker Lessons from Richelieu"

Such is the title of this book review, which makes the case that the famous Cardinal was marked more by a gambler's sentiment than a manipulator's.  Since we were just talking about the Thirty Years War, here is a relevant section:

 In 1618, what would become known as the Thirty Years’ War broke out -- Europe’s last great spasm of religious warfare, in which a furious conflict between a series of Protestant states, on one side, and the House of Hapsburg and its Catholic allies, on the other, tore the center of the continent apart. France, a Catholic state itself, nevertheless intervened on the Protestant side, hoping to supplant the Austrian and Spanish Hapsburgs as the strongest power in Europe. 

Richelieu initially felt that France could do no more than subsidize Protestant efforts and engage in strictly limited military campaigns. Ironically, he feared treachery from the Huguenots, France’s own small Protestant minority, who had lingering grievances against the French state and control of several strategic towns, including the Atlantic port of La Rochelle. Realizing that he had to address the Huguenot threat before intervening seriously abroad, in 1627 Richelieu laid siege to La Rochelle and starved the city into submission. (By the end of the operation, even the rats had disappeared, and the starving locals were reduced to eating boiled shoe leather.)

La Rochelle has one of the more interesting civic histories.

Apparently We're Doing This Crusade Thing Now...

So I gather, anyway.  I had thought this was supposed to be a distraction from the economic issues, but it looks like we're all in.

Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney said Tuesday that President Barack Obama's administration has "fought against religion" and sought to substitute a "secular" agenda for one grounded in faith. 

Obama's campaign seized on the characterization, calling Romney's comments "disgraceful." 

Romney rarely ventures into social issues in his campaign speeches, but people participating in a town hall-style meeting one week before the Michigan primary asked how he would protect religious liberty.

I'm guessing this means this message tests well in focus groups -- not to speak ill of Mr. Romney, which I am done with, but rather as a compliment to his extraordinary message discipline and the professionalism of his campaign.  This is a better-formulated version of Mr. Santorum's remarks re: 'phony theology,' although in fairness, Mr. Romney wasn't speaking off the cuff.

Not that Mr. Santorum is backing off.

“Rick Santorum offered no apologies Tuesday for a controversial speech he gave in 2008 when he talked about the threat of Satan in America. 

“‘I’m a person of faith. I believe in good and evil,’ Santorum said in response to questions from CNN…

Well, if you're going to fight a Crusade, maybe the Crusader is the guy you want.

Either way, it's turning out to be a big deal.

Have a good Lent.  I'm giving up alcohol for the fast, which means that the beer I have in front of me could easily be the last beer I ever have -- after all, I ride a motorcycle everywhere.  It's a good one, though, a worthy end (if end it should prove to be).

Goodnight.

Carnival!

We've just finished our annual fire department fundraiser, with its Mardi Gras theme. We had a parade and everything, but I see from scouting out Mardi Gras and Carnival photos on the web that we're really going to have to up our game. As much time and trouble as we put into our festival, it was a pale, pale effort. It makes me want to start work right now on costumes and floats for next year. This is what I call exuberance.

Science and the Burning of Witches

I recently met a Franciscan nun who, after our conversation, gave me a book she thought that I ought to read.  It is called The Holy Longing, by a priest named Ronald Rolheiser.  Some of you may know it; I've only begun it, but already I suspect it is probably infamous among Catholic conservatives.

Aside from that judgment, I am not ready to weigh further on the book's quality; but he does make one claim that is quite wrong.  He is asking for a reconciliation of sorts between the old "paternalistic, Christian heritage" and the new world.  Along the way he defends the old faith with a historical reference:  "[A]s Rene Girard says it is not because we invented science that we stopped burning witches, but rather when, because of the Judeo-Christianity, we stopped burning witches that we invented science." (p. 39-40)

This is wrong as a point of history.  We invented science when we started burning witches.

The usual dates for the witch-burning craze are 1480-1750, around the time of the Reformation and the Thirty Years War.  It was about the time that there was this deep questioning of tradition -- that would lead to the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, and modern science -- that there also coincidentally spread a new cultural distrust of the feminine.

I was just reading a collection of essays called Friendship in Medieval Europe that shows how much things changed.  Several of these essays note that -- contrary to what many people might expect if they were raised with the modern critique of Western history as "paternalistic" -- the early and High Middle Ages were a golden age for relations between the sexes. Of the Anglo-Saxon period, we learn:

"What we can conclude on a formal level, however, is that 'friendship' is not significantly limited, either in a hierarchical manner -- Boniface and Alcuin are friends with bishops as well as priests, abbots as well as monks -- or with regard to gender -- they are friends both with men and women. Every person (ominis homo -- and not: 'every male') needs a friend, as the Anglo-Saxon abbess Eangyth writes to St. Boniface; and she chooses him to be hers. Alcuin counts several women among his friends." (125)

It turns out that there are vast examples of robust friendships between men and women throughout the early and High middle ages, and into the late middle ages, including whole collections of letters now being studied by scholars across Europe. There is particular importance placed on the exchange of poetry between men and women as tokens of friendship; in the last few years, we've gained awareness of a huge amount of female-written Medieval poetry that is normally captured in letters between friends, including between monastic communities and nunneries. St. Thomas Aquinas wrote on the virtue of friendship, drawing on Aristotle's dictum that we can say to our friend, "You are the other half of my soul," (in Aristotle this is more usually translated 'the friend is our other self'); and the priest Richard Rolle, who died in 1349, wrote that in spite of the dangers of physical attraction between men and women, "that sort of friendship is not improper, but rewarding, if it is practiced with a good intention."

However, in 1401 the chancellor of the University of Paris, Jean Gerson, wrote a sermon in which he charged that friendship with women put you at risk of "diabolical deception" and 'great evil unless God in his goodness averts it.' Gerson nevertheless knew some women, including Christine de Pisan, whom he engaged with intellectually (and agreed with) in the famous debate of the morality of Roman de la Rose. Christine de Pisan, in the early 1400s, was challenging this new, rising misogyny and objected to the vulgar language that the book put into the mouths of noble women.  But when Gerson wrote his own book about it, he ignored her contributions and did not mention her at all. Gerson lived at the same time as Bernardino of Siena, whose traveling sermons popularized the idea of witches.

As for witch-burning in the early and High Middle Ages, it was actually banned by the Church under penalty of death. The same decree, in 785, banned belief in witches in order to suppress violence against women. That held until the 1400s, when popular pressure in Switzerland and Germany began to force the Church to rethink its stance. As late as the 1390s, though, women confessed to practicing 'white magic' to Inquisitors, but the Inquisitors had nothing in their guidelines about women using magic and had to write for advice.

It looks like the early 15th century is the turning point in which the Church (following popular movements from German-speaking central Europe) began to take the dark view of female sexuality that we have come to associate with witch-burnings.

The easy friendships between men and women that we observe in Chaucer, who lets the Wife of Bath have a merry wit and deliver a good long sermon on the virtues of women, did not quite die with him in 1400. Sir Thomas Malory, born in 1405, stands at the end of this golden age. He was in the English speaking world, which did not receive the witch-burning craze until after his death (England did not pass a law on witchcraft until 1542). Though it is commonplace to blame Malory for making Guinevere's sexuality the cause of the fall of Camelot, it is clear that Malory does not view Guinevere as a bad or wicked woman. In fact, one of the few times that Malory directly addresses his audience is to make the point that "she was a true lover and therefore she had a good end." Her love with Lancelot, though it had tragic practical consequences, is what redeems her for Malory, not what damns her.

Even the wicked sorceress Morgan le Fay is not a witch, but a student of necromancy -- see the article on the meaning of this in the Early and High Middle Ages, which is different from the word's meaning today. Of course, Morgan was a necromancer for Malory, but earlier she had been something else, not a witch but a fairy. In this guise she is the heroine of Marie de France's Lanval, saving the knight from an unfair judgment.

There is a doctrine that the Middle Ages were a dark and miserable time, and that the story of the Reformation, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment is a story of ever-marching progress toward a more rational society. In truth, the story is more complicated. The same breaking of the old order that allowed for a new scientific world view also let loose a great deal darker. It was not when we became scientific that we stopped burning witches. Rather, that was just when we began.

UPDATE:

History Ireland has a counterexample, the earliest witch-burning case I've heard of from 1324. It's worth reading their account in full. The only one who was burned was a minor figure, a servant of the family chiefly charged with heresy; and the secular law worked hard to defy the Church in the face of a very enthusiastic (and foreign) bishop. Of the principal defendants, the woman escaped by flight (she was extraordinarily wealthy), and her husband got off with a penance. The Church forced him to go on pilgrimage and to re-do a part of the local cathedral with lead. It turned out the lead was too heavy for the cathedral roof, which collapsed as a consequence of his fulfilling the penance the bishop had imposed. Divine judgment, possibly.

It's interesting to see how this early case played out, compared with the enthusiasm that would appear in later centuries.

Don't Be So Modest!

The AP says "Obama peddles modest American dream."

Don't be so modest, Mr. President!  I have learned just this morning about how you have improved the lives of millions of people.

As of January, the federal government was mailing out disability checks to more than 10.5 million individuals, including 2 million to spouses and children of disabled workers, at a cost of record $200 billion a year, recent research from JPMorgan Chase shows....

Mental-illness claims, in particular, are surging.

Well of course!  It's the easiest thing in the world to "prove" a mental illness exists; the DSM-IV is widely available and explains exactly how you should act when you go to the doctor.  For that matter, the Social Security office helpfully explains how you can satisfy their requirements.  For example, here is the criteria for establishing that you have a personality disorder.

Once you establish your disability, you are eligible for disability payments and may also be eligible for supplemental income payments.  After two years, you automatically gain membership in Medicare.  You can even work part time, or as a self-employed person, as long as you're careful not to overdo it.

As someone who has often been self-employed, I can easily imagine the benefits of getting cheap health care and a guaranteed income floor.  No wonder so many smart people are signing on.

...a growing number of men, particularly older, former white-collar workers, instead of the typical blue-collar ones, are applying.The big concern about the swelling ranks is that once people get on disability, they’re unlikely to give it up and go back to work. 

“It’s not like other support programs, such as unemployment insurance, which you lose after a year or two,” says Michael Feroli, chief US economist with JPMorgan.

Of course not!  Not that there were jobs for them anyway.

There's only one small problem:

Social Security’s disability fund, which has been operating short of cash since 2005, is forecast to run out of reserves by 2018.  

But hey, that's years away.  We'll figure out how to tax the rich before then, right?

Well, no, we won't, because there isn't enough money on earth to pay for our existing obligations -- and that's without this rise in disability claims.  But the disability issue is small potatoes; its unfunded liabilities are only a little more than twenty trillion dollars.  The people who are really going to get it are the military retirees, who have been promised more than nine hundred trillion dollars in health care benefits that the government hasn't actually funded.

It's already the case that many people are working until they die, paying taxes that fund a system that seems to be subject to some abuse.  Those are the really smart people, in my opinion.  The people who are putting themselves on government largess are going to be left high and dry when the money runs out.

Seen on Memeorandum

H'Wood snubs Muslim Stone:

Sean Stone, son of controversial director Oliver Stone, converted to Islam in Iran last week and says he’s already experiencing a Hollywood backlash.

Muslims stone Christians on Temple Mount:

A mob of some 50 Palestinian Muslims stoned a group of Christian tourists atop Jerusalem's Temple Mount on Sunday morning. Three of the Israeli police officers who acted to protect the Christian group were wounded by the stone-throwers.

There's a kind of subtle difference in the action going on here... I'm not quite sure how to describe it.

I Guess This Constitutes Praise...

At the beginning of January, in the bookshop of Terminal 2 at San Francisco airport, I looked for a translation of the Iliad – not that I really expected to find one. But there were ten: one succinct W.H.D. Rouse prose translation and one Robert Graves, in prose and song, both in paperback; two blank verse Robert Fagles in solid covers; one rhythmic Richmond Lattimore with a lengthy new introduction; and three hardback copies of the new Stephen Mitchell translation, with refulgent golden shields on the cover and several endorsements on the back, of which the most arresting is by Jaron Lanier, author of You Are Not a Gadget: ‘The poetry rocks and has a macho cast to it, like rap music.’

The Fitzgerald translation is my favorite. If you want to do yourself a favor, though, don't buy it as a book. The Iliad is oral poetry, and you will do far better to hear it aloud.

The Perils of Doing What You Love

The Hillbilly Hellcats warn you:



Rathkeltair has the same opinion.

Great News for the Local Working Man:

Caterpillar is coming home.

Caterpillar Inc. said it chose a site near Athens, Ga., for a new $200 million factory that will employ about 1,400 people and make construction equipment currently produced in Sagami, Japan.

That will do a lot of good around here.  It's a good choice -- we've got rail lines to Atlanta and Savannah, as well as the port at Charleston, and I-85 running through the territory as well.  This has been a pretty depressed area the last several years, so this is very good to hear.  A lot of my neighbors will be helped by it.

Hey, This Looks Familiar...

I had a horse do this once, with a couple of differences. First, he wasn't as athletic -- which means he didn't jump as far up in the air while coming over, but also that he weighed a lot more. Second, he landed right on me, crushing all the ribs on my right side. I guess that would have been about 2006. Still hurts sometimes.

Just One Little Problem...

You've heard of the Black-Scholes equation?

Black-Scholes underpinned massive economic growth. By 2007, the international financial system was trading derivatives valued at one quadrillion dollars per year. This is 10 times the total worth, adjusted for inflation, of all products made by the world's manufacturing industries over the last century. The downside was the invention of ever-more complex financial instruments whose value and risk were increasingly opaque. So companies hired mathematically talented analysts to develop similar formulas, telling them how much those new instruments were worth and how risky they were. Then, disastrously, they forgot to ask how reliable the answers would be if market conditions changed. 

Black and Scholes invented their equation in 1973; Robert Merton supplied extra justification soon after. It applies to the simplest and oldest derivatives: options. There are two main kinds. A put option gives its buyer the right to sell a commodity at a specified time for an agreed price. A call option is similar, but it confers the right to buy instead of sell. The equation provides a systematic way to calculate the value of an option before it matures. Then the option can be sold at any time. The equation was so effective that it won Merton and Scholes the 1997 Nobel prize in economics. (Black had died by then, so he was ineligible.)
...
The Black-Scholes equation relates the recommended price of the option to four other quantities. Three can be measured directly: time, the price of the asset upon which the option is secured and the risk-free interest rate. This is the theoretical interest that could be earned by an investment with zero risk, such as government bonds. The fourth quantity is the volatility of the asset. This is a measure of how erratically its market value changes. The equation assumes that the asset's volatility remains the same for the lifetime of the option, which need not be correct. 

It's a genius act of advanced mathematics, which gives us predictability in an area of uncertainty and allows us to trade options at the level of ten times the total value of a century's production.  There turns out to be just one little problem with it.

Despite its supposed expertise, the financial sector performs no better than random guesswork.

Oops.  Guess that's why all those folks who used to have good jobs in construction are now raising their kids on the EITC.  It wasn't because they didn't realize how dumb they were; it's because somebody else thought he was too smart.

This seems like a problem for our model too, though.  We just finished a long talk about how markets make better decisions -- at least, when immediate information is available locally.  Now, the financial sector is nothing if not a market.  Isn't that right?

Rewired It

So, a minor issue:  the clothes dryer burned out a while ago.  Since I pretty much never buy anything new, I found a used one I could buy off a guy who didn't need it any more because he'd bought a better one.  When I got it home, I found it had a four-prong plug instead of the older-style three-prong plug.  No problem:  the junker has the right kind of plug.  I stripped it off the old one, wired it up to the new one, and plugged it in.

The dryer ran really loud, really hot, and quit after ten seconds.

Now at first I thought I had just been sold a lemon by a guy who had 'bought a better dryer' because the old one didn't work.  After all, I'd wired it up correctly according to the diagram:  white ground wire on the center, two hot wires on the sides.

After a little internet research, however, I found out that this is a common problem if the dryer is wired wrongly, i.e., if you get the ground on the wrong attachment.  So I went down into the basement and snooped around, and found out that the previous owner of the house apparently did the dryer wiring themselves as an aftermarket.  It's a rather amazing job -- not up to code, and somewhat more resembling a spider web than a professional installation.  Still, it worked for two years, so I figured it probably still worked -- it just wasn't wired right according to code.

Once I sorted that out, I found the true ground and swapped the wires around, and the dryer works perfectly now.  I kind of wish the previous owner of the house had mentioned his little adventures in electricity, though; but I suppose he would have believed that it would have lowered my offering price for the house.  (He would have been right, too.)

Recruiting

Apparently Alabama is mellowing with age.

Four-star junior tailback Alvin Kamara of Norcross, Ga., couldn't believe what he found in his mailbox after getting home from school one recent day.  Or rather, what he found falling out of his mailbox.

"There were 105 letters from Alabama," Kamara told Rivals.com.

Sending a kid lots of letters is a really nice way to ask him to join your football team, especially given how much work it is for someone from Alabama to write a letter.

Still, it sounds pretty weak compared to the old Bear Bryant play.

"If I wanted a kid bad enough," Bear Bryant of Alabama once said, "I used every trick I could think of.... [W]hen I was at Kentucky I dressed our manager, Jim Murphy, in a priest's outfit to recruit Gene Donaldson away from Notre Dame.  Maybe Jim Murphy did tell Donaldson he was a priest.  Shucks, I'd have told him Murphy was Pope....

Well, the old days are gone forever.

The Story of the "U" in UK

This article from History Today begins in a gratifying way:

Anybody who enters into even a casual discussion with a US citizen about their country’s constitution will be struck by the ease with which they reference names, dates and significant events in the creation – and subsequent amendment – of that 225-year-old document.

How nice that this is the perception!  Most of us would prefer only to deepen American appreciation for the Constitution and its history.

The author goes on to note that his own countrymen are not as excited about the constitutional process that underlies their present union.  There are some reasons for this, including the fact that one of the most significant acts of union was the 1801 acts that brought Ireland into union with existing Great Britain.  Technically two different acts -- one in each parliament -- it turns out that no one was much interested in celebrating the bicentennial in 2001.

Ben Johnson and the Cavalier Poets

The Times (of London) has an article on Ben Johnson, "one of our greatest poets – I know not how good a one[.]"

In his turbulent career Jonson had many scrapes with the law, including prosecution for manslaughter, having killed the actor Gabriel Spencer in a duel in Hoxton Fields. Jonson escaped the gallows thanks to the old law excusing those who could read the so-called “neck-verse” from Psalm 51 as a test of literacy. In several plays, Jonson echoes his own experience with allusions to characters being “saved by the book”.

The Cavalier Poets were a really interesting group, sadly not as well known these days.   They favored a life of courage and boldness, humane and even bawdy:  one of my favorite of their poems is built around a dream in which the poet imagined himself as a vine twining about his lady love, but found when he awoke that he was "more like a stock than like a vine."  The allusion to the thick root stock, contrasted with the qualities of the vines that grow from it, would have been obvious enough in a more agricultural age.

One of the reasons I like the Cavalier Poets so well is that they often force us to rethink whose 'side' we are on in reading history.  It is very common for Americans to take the side of revolution against the kings to be the side of progress, and to see in Oliver Cromwell a kind of predecessor.  For part of the country, that's even somewhat true -- the Roundheads were the ancestors of the Puritans of Boston.  Yet the attitudes of modern Boston have nothing to do with the Puritan ones, and will find very much more to recognize in the rowdy, bawdy Cavaliers.

There is an ironic reversal here in the South, for whom the Cavaliers make up many of our proper ancestors.  In Theodore Roosevelt's day it was a commonplace of historians to divide the nation into the Roundhead Yankees and the Cavalier Southerners; Roosevelt does it himself in The Winning of the West.  Yet of course, today the South is the Bible Belt, and far more likely to exhibit something like Puritanism than anywhere settled by the Puritans.  On the other hand, the South is also the home of Outlaw Country Music -- and David Allen Coe would find much to recognize in Ben Johnson, as might Willie Nelson, or Johnny Cash, or Johnny Paycheck.

In any case, it turns out that Ben Johnson was buried in Westminster Abbey -- head first.

(H/t:  Arts & Letters Daily)

Speaking of the Difference in Winters...

...a discussion of the long winter of Europe, versus our own potential contention.

Snow in Rome, Pipes in Florida

It's been such a warm winter here that, even with this week's short cold spell, I've kind of assumed that the winter was warm everywhere.  My sister sends pictures of the snowfall in the Tetons, so I know it's not warm everywhere; but I suppose I figured it was probably 'warm for the Tetons in winter.'

Apparently this is an unusually snowy winter in Italy, however!



(Hat tip to Medieval News, though I gather the snow is current.)

Meanwhile, down at the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival, two weeks ago in Flordia, they were singing about the Holy Land... sleeveless.  Shirtless, even.



UPDATE:

Drift back to the fall, and you can hear that piper at something closer to his best... along with a banjo player. I'm not actually in this video, but I easily could have been:  I was right there all day, just not at this very moment.  Several friends of mine pass in and out on the left hand side at times, though you won't be able to tell anything about them, being in the distance as they are.  Still, a pleasant memory.

Something Important about Rick Santorum

MEGADETH endorses him!



No, not that.

Actually, the news story that I found most striking today was this description of his economic plan.  Now, his plan is interesting to me because it does several things that are outside the usual playbooks for either party:

[In addition to cutting spending by $5T in five years he wants to flatten the tax code...]  

His plan would also likely mean a cut for many of the tens of millions of households making between $17,400 and around $50,000. They'd presumably fall into the 10 percent bracket, down from the 15 percent rate they currently pay. In keeping with his traditional views on social issues, Santorum also wants to encourage family formation (he and his wife have six children themselves), by tripling the personal deduction for each child, and by scrapping marriage tax penalties. 

Unlike Mitt Romney, Santorum has said he opposes a rise in the minimum wage, although he wouldn't scrap the concept altogether, as some in his party would. As well as auditing the Fed, he'd have it focus only on controlling inflation, and not on promoting employment. Santorum supports Rep. Paul Ryan's plan to save money by transforming Medicare into a system of private insurance. And like every 2012 Republican presidential candidate current or former, he'd repeal President Obama's health-care law. 

So far, that's a plan that sticks pretty closely to the standard GOP script. But other aspects of Santorum's proposal set him apart from his party, by grappling with issues of concern to Americans further down the economic spectrum. 

Again like most of his GOP rivals, Santorum would lower the corporate tax rate. But he'd establish two new rates: 17.5 percent -- a 50 percent cut from the current 35 percent rate -- for most businesses, and zero for manufacturers. The goal, his website says, is to "multiply job opportunities for struggling middle-income families and renew communities that have lost critical manufacturing jobs." 

In campaign appearances and debate performances, Santorum has often appeared eager to reinforce that focus on restoring middle-class jobs -- implicitly bucking the standard Republican line that derides issues of economic inequality and mobility as class warfare. 

"We need to talk about income mobility," he implored his party at a Republican debate on economic issues in November, noting the sky-high jobless rate for Americans without college degrees. "We need to talk about people at the bottom of the income scale being able to get necessary skills and rise so they can support themselves and a family."  

By the same token, Santorum hasn't shied away from mentioning poverty. "I don't believe that poverty is a permanent condition," he declares in the plan. "How do we effectively address poverty in rural and urban America? We promote jobs, marriage, quality education and access to capital and embrace the supports of civil society."

Now, since we're in the middle of a bruising primary battle, let's assume that whomever the final nominee happens to be will adopt the best ideas out of all the competing plans to take forward to the general election. What are the best ideas here? What might need to go?  What do other candidates have that you'd like to see added to the final plan?  For example, do you like minimum wage increases, or do you prefer to avoid them, or would you like to see the minimum wage discarded entirely?

Do you like the concept of fighting poverty by promoting marriage -- we've often seen good evidence that getting and staying married is among the most crucial factors in staying out of poverty.  Will increasing the incentives for marriage cut poverty?

What about the tax benefit for kids?  It appears he is proposing a deduction increase that can only answer to your actual liability, rather than an increase in the Child Tax Credit that (like the EITC) it can bring a "refund" even though you didn't pay the taxes in actual dollars.  At the lower end this might move some families off welfare; although some on the right regard the EITC-type plan as a form of welfare, since it results in transfer payments to poorer families.

I don't think I agree, though, because families raising children is what produces the best and most successful citizens, who will go on to pay taxes in the future.  It is therefore a kind of public good, in that all of us reap the benefits whether or not we pay into it (at least, all of us who live long enough to go on Medicare, or drive on the highways).  It's something we might reasonably support, not out of charity, but because it's the right thing to do, and because -- like making sure children are educated -- it works to the benefit of all of us.

Anyway, it's an interesting set of proposals.  What ideas did other candidates have you'd like to see added? Which of these ideas do you not like, and why?

The Status of the Infinite

A friend of mine who is a professor, and a specialist in the philosophy underpinning mathematics, told me that the major debate in that philosophy is over the status of the infinite.  You can see why:

 [T]he more that physicists stopped worrying about what their complicated equations meant and simply ran the numbers, the more progress they made. Some of their predictions have now been confirmed by experiments to 10 decimal places or more— the most accurate predictions in history.  

Real objects cannot have infinite charge or mass or whatever. But when scientists in the 1950s started calculating those quantities with their latest and fanciest theories, infinities kept sprouting up and ruining things. Rather than abandon the theories, though, a few persistent scientists realized that they could do away with the infinities through mathematical prestidigitation. (Basically, they started calculating with and canceling out infinity like a regular old number, normally a big no-no.) 

No one liked this fudging, but because it led to such stunningly accurate answers, scientists couldn’t dismiss it. In fact, the reigning paradigm in physics today—which describes the workings of invisible “fields” (similar to magnetic fields)— would not exist without this hand waving. And now physics is stuck with fields: they’ve become more fundamental to understanding the universe than mass or charge. Fields have become the very fabric of reality—even if our understanding of them relies on some unrealistic assumptions.

So what's the problem with infinity?  Let me offer a couple of starting points at getting at an answer to that question -- both of them discovered not in modern philosophy, but in Ancient Greek.

The first one is the problem the article cites -- theoretically, actual infinities shouldn't exist.  Aristotle explained why potential infinities could exist, and you probably know at least one of the arguments:  if you have a number, you can always divide it in half.  Thus one can be divided into 1/2, then 1/4, and so on forever.  The other kind he recognized was like this:  if you have an actual universe with the size of two, you can divide it into half, and then take the second half and divide it in half, so that now you have divide out one and a half from the total; and then again, so that you have divided out one and three quarter from the total; but you will never reach two.  Two is thus a kind of infinity, since you can never get to it; but it is not an actual infinity.  (As the Stanford article points out, however, this is not consistent with Aristotle's idea that the universe was eternal -- and that there must have been, therefore, an infinite number of days.)

These are not actual infinities, because you have really only the thing you are dividing and it is of determinate magnitude.  If the universe is not infinite, you should not be able to get to infinitely large magnitudes.  It is only through infinite division that there should be even a potential infinite.

(The concept we learned in grade school -- that given any number, you can always add one more -- is another kind of potential infinity.  It deals only with imaginary objects, not "real objects," which we would like to believe are finite).

The other starting point for the problem are Zeno's paradoxes.  Zeno's paradoxes of motion show that, if things are infinitely divisible, motion should be impossible.  Since a distance is a length, and a length is the kind of thing that should be infinitely divisible (one mile into half a mile, etc.), it should be the case that motion is not possible.  For say that you divide the line into an infinite number of points.  For motion to be possible, you'd have to pass from one point to the next.  But there is no "next" point if there is a true infinity, because you can always divide the distance between them in half.  Thus, between any two points are an infinite number of points.  (For further discussion, see the second paradox of motion.)

Likewise time should be divisible (a minute into half a minute, etc).  This provides its own problem, since we think motion takes place in time (indeed, Aristotle thought that time was the counting of motion).  So if we divide time down to the smallest possible increment, either a flying arrow is frozen in time and space, or it moves.  If it moves, though, our instant of time must have a start and a finish -- which means it should be further divisible, contrary to our assumption that this was the smallest possible division.  Therefore, we should get to a division in which motion isn't possible; but if time is composed of moments in which no motion is possible, how could motion be possible at all?  

The rest of Zeno's paradoxes, and the thinking of Parmenides and several others, posed real challenges for any system that includes infinities, but also for any system that includes multiple things.  The upshot of both is that reality only makes sense if it isn't really divisible, but finally unified.  Aristotle argues against this in Physics I, in part from the obvious rejoinder:  well, but we see motion all the time.  Thus, motion and time must be real; we all agree on it.

For many years we've followed Aristotle's basic solution by assuming that real (i.e., actual) infinities didn't exist.  Now, however, we find that we are able to make scientific predictions that are far more accurate than anything in human history... but only by assuming the infinite with real objects.

That's a problem.  It's a problem because it means that the most accurate science in the world is founded on assumptions that we have some good reason to think are impossible.

What does it mean if they're not?

A Cup of Mead To Warm the Heart on St. Valentine's Day

Allow me to offer a toast.  Let us drink to the best and noblest of women.  Naturally, I mean my own.  (But if you direct that toast towards another in your heart, you may trust that I will not pry.)

To the ladies who join us here in the Hall, let me thank you for your friendship and kindness.  I will not toast you, but only because you may not drink a toast to yourself -- and I would want to share the wine with you fairly.  Wæs Hæl!

The Return of Elise

Those of you who have been anxiously awaiting Elise's return from exile will find that she is up and running again.  She has a simple solution to the current debate about contraception:  Catholics should stop providing charity.

There is a sense in which that solves the problem, but it doesn't, really.  The problem isn't even employer-sponsored health insurance, although that is part of the problem.  Moving it to the government doesn't relieve anyone who pays taxes of material support for abortion.  That's why there are always debates about taxpayer support for abortions.

What really would work is for everyone who takes the provision of contraception and abortion to be a sacred duty to provide them on a charitable basis.  Just as the Catholics are providing hospital care to the poor, you too can give your money and time away.  If it is really that important to you, there are plenty of people out there right now who would be only too happy to accept your donation.

Then everyone who wants to obtain these things can obtain them; and everyone who wants to support them can support them; and no one is forced to violate his or her conscience over it.

The first step is to accept that some people really do believe that abortion is a moral horror, and that it isn't right to make them participate in it.

If you can't accept that, well, Elise has another good point  that might convince you instead.

"She loves another. She thinks it is you."

When better than Valentine's Day to discuss adultery? Belladonna Rogers at PJ Media ran a column last week about whether an adulterer should make a clean breast of things to his/her spouse. Honestly, I don't know. I'm inclined to think, as I commented there, that you can camouflage part of yourself, but you can't replace it with something real. So your spouse will detect the blank, dead spot without necessarily knowing what's wrong. I suspect the dead spot is more dangerous than the adultery.

In today's follow-up column, Ms. Rogers holds to her original advice that confession is merely self-indulgent and cruel to the wronged spouse. Checking again on last week's comments, I found this very thoughtful one:

[To] carry off an affair, [the adulterer who started this discussing by asking Rogers for advice] had to feel entitled to this misbehavior. To what does he feel entitled? Not all entitlements are bad. He might feel entitled to be swept away by a grand passion. He might feel entitled to lots of worshipful attention. He might feel entitled to more sex. He might feel entitled to stress relief. Who knows? It’s worth asking, framed that way -- to what does this man feel entitled, enough to violate the terms of one of the very few vows he’s made in his life. Seriously -- we watch vows from Crusaders, and comic book avengers, and nuns and scarlett o’hara’s calorie count . . . but we only make one or two in our life. What sort of entitlement makes it easy to disregard that vow?

Sinner is also in thrall to some particular bad ideas in circulation. Love conquers all, love excuses all, I couldn’t help myself, affairs are sexy, while married love is boring . . . who knows? It’s all on sale in hollywood, so there’s a chance the guy is just a sucker for pop-culture. He might want to consider what influences he succumbed to. Did he go looking? “Dear penthouse letters. . . . I never thought it could happen to me . . . .” I think it’s kind of funny, b/c what I get out of it is nearly an animist belief that the whole world is one pulsing orgasmic reality slightly covered with clothes and manners. If he keeps the attitudes, without examining them -- he might think he’s enslaved to the boring woman and has heroically given up wildly satisfying sex, sacrificed any possibility of his own happiness . . . it’s worth checking, to see what he thought about all of this . . . .

. . . The pain is realizing that [your wronged wife is] in love with a different man -- the good man you might have been. You are experiencing, possibly, a form of jealousy: she loves another. She thinks it is you. That’s a poetic form of justice, don’t you think?

Why not fit his face onto yours, and pretend to be him? A good, honorable, decent, loyal, faithful man. At some point, the mask might become true, and your smaller, meaner, more selfish self will have crawled into a corner, to not be appreciated, or see the light of day in all his meagre dragony glory. To be unknown, as you sought to reveal yourself, you must admit, is a sort of punishment. To not be accepted just as you are, as incontinent, weak, helpless . . . it’s every infant’s nightmare. you’ve just dressed it up in grownup clothes.

Your wife loves another man. You could have been him, but you aren’t. That’s the burden you are trying to cast off -- you’re jealous of him, the one she knows and loves . . . .

Don’t confess, and kill the other, honorable man. Behave as if he were you. You are his doppelganger. Do him proud, Joseph Conrad tough-man proud. You’ll have the chance to grow to be honorable.

“Guinevere”

Wond’rous bird, she dwelt in a land

With such glory as beauty assured.

Her wild song rang a golden strand;

Her throat band bright as swords;

To her grey tail did eyes return,

To a breast as rich as summer corn.

Two great birds fought for her love;

Chatter’d and clash’d like summer gale,

Till whole of flock they fought above;

Claw and feather like knives in mail:

So one beak found the road severe,

So one great heart did know its spear.

Heart-sent blood shone on the snow,

Horror sent the winged beauty away.

She sought a perch where she in woe

Suffered through her heart’s decay;

And in molt her feathers fell,

And in grief she long would dwell.

Brave victor, he had lost his love

And sought a quiet place alone,

Bearing wounds he died thereof;

And she who far from him had flown

Whiten'd in molt till feathers new

Were pure and shining as the dew.

Far and high men saw her glow

Alit on tree at mountain peak,

Feathers colored as grey old snow,

Ashen from tail to start of beak;

Beauteous sorrow became her fame,

But from that hour, she never sang.

It'll Soon Be Valentine's Day...

...so here's to beauty and horsepower, two of the great loves of my life.









UPDATE:  These two are not of the same type, but I think they are worthy additions.  The first captures the beauty of horsepower (hat tip: BSBFB).  The second, some rising beauties of courage and skill.

A Test for an Old Proverb

'A conservative is a liberal who's been mugged.'

Guess we'll find out!

A new friend

We've adopted a 10-month-old black lab from the son of some friends. Like a lot of kids of college age, he didn't understand how hard it would be to raise and train a young dog while attending classes and moving from one student apartment to another, letting her be babysat here and there by a whole series of friends and relatives.

I'm sure he must have taught her something, but it's not apparent what. She didn't understand about water at all. Now she's learning what to do in the little bits of pond we have left after our long drought, though she stills swims like a puppy, all frantic splashing. The notion of retrieving is just bubbling up from her genes into her consciousness like a revelation. She heels about as well as a raccoon. I know she'll settle down quickly, though, once she gets used to her new, more consistent home. There are lots of woods to run around in and exercise that bursting youth and strength. She needs to smell everything and learn that it's hers. She needs to know that we're her pack now.

Our two other dogs are adjusting, one easily and one with difficulty (pretty much blowing things out of both ends all over the carpet; use your imagination; let it run wild). Even the one with the delicate sensibility will come around soon, though, if past dog additions are any indication. Luckily I don't object much to dog messes.

This is the first time I can remember that we took in a dog more on my husband's initiative than on my own. I was prepared to let our friends find a home for this pretty dog somewhere else. I'm always up for another dog, though, and so was thrilled when my husband suggested it. (What could be better than a husband who adopts dogs?) It just means going back on puppy discipline: no leaving out balls of yarn or books until we can explain to her how she must act.

Speaking of animals, I got to cuddle a small boa constrictor this weekend.

More Sweet for Hate and Heart's Desire

Dad29 sends some words from Dr. Russell Kirk:

We are not called to material success. We are called to obedience. We are called to love. The True, the Good, and the Beautiful will find their true place in our culture only when many more of us are obedient to Love.

"What is the object of human life? The enlightened conservative does not believe that the end or aim of life is competition; or success; or enjoyment; or longevity; or power; or possessions. He believes instead, that the object of life is Love. He knows that the just and ordered society is that in which Love governs us, so far as Love ever can reign in this world of sorrows; and he knows that the anarchical or the tyrannical society is that in which Love lies corrupt. He has learnt that Love is the source of all being, and that Hell itself is ordained by Love. He understands that Death, when we have finished the part that was assigned to us, is the reward of Love. And he apprehends the truth that the greatest happiness ever granted to a man is the privilege of being happy in the hour of his death. 

He has no intention of converting this human society of ours into an efficient machine for efficient machine-operators, dominated by master mechanics. Men are put into this world, he realizes, to struggle, to suffer, to contend against the evil that is in their neighbors and in themselves, and to aspire toward the triumph of Love. They are put into this world to live like men, and to die like men. He seeks to preserve a society which allows men to attain manhood, rather than keeping them within bonds of perpetual childhood. With Dante, he looks upward from this place of slime, this world of gorgons and chimeras, toward the light which gives Love to this poor earth and all the stars. And, with Burke, he knows that "they will never love where they ought to love, who do not hate where they ought to hate."

Well, now.  What ought a man to hate?

Not his enemy, to be sure!  Jesus said "I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you[.]  If you love those who love you, what reward will you get?  Are not even the tax collectors doing that?"

Chesterton put it into verse, a verse that all of you know well:

How white their steel, how bright their eyes! I love each laughing knave,

Cry high and bid him welcome to the banquet of the brave.
Yea, I will bless them as they bend and love them where they lie,
When on their skulls the sword I swing falls shattering from the sky.
The hour when death is like a light and blood is like a rose, --
You never loved your friends, my friends, as I shall love my foes.

If it is not the enemy, it is his evil; and you must hate the evil while loving the man.  This is fitting, for he ought to hate your evil -- and all of us have evil within us -- while loving you.

Follow the first link on the sidebar under "Chivalry," and you will find this:

 If I am to love a man, I must love him as he is; yet if I am to love him as I love myself, then I may fight with him to the degree that I would fight myself. I may even kill him, if there are things I would rather kill myself than be guilty of having done.  

If I can but forgive his soul, I am doing all that is asked in the Lord's Prayer: "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." If I can do that, then we may fight each other as hard as needs be -- and we may even love the chance to strike a blow for what is right, best, just. Even the most wicked man is therefore lovable, insofar as he gives us the greatest opportunity to create good in the world. Even our own capacity for sin is lovable, for the same reason. 

We are meant to hate the evil, but love the man. We often find evil in ourselves, which we should hate; and we should seek mercy for it. Yet we might also remember the good that comes of it. Another man, evil in his way, fights against us in his own glorious cause. For a moment, while he is fighting the evil in us, that wicked man is bright.

So, there are two lessons of substance here.  The first is this:  One of the things we might forgive God for is the idea of original sin.  For if it were not for the evil in us, others would not have the chance to strive brightly against a terrible foe.

The second is the answer to a question Cassandra once asked:  'Why can't we just do the right thing, because it is the right thing?'  The answer is that, if we did -- if we did just that -- no one would have the chance to brighten their spirit.

The evil in us bends to the good of others, and so even it is worth loving, in its way.  

The Old Wound

A new paper asks, 'Who gave Arthur a Crippling Blow?' and answers that it was Saint George:

[W]ith the Norman Conquest, a new form of kingship was imposed on the English people. William I, for example, made far-reaching changes to solidify his regime-change, but at the same time showed less interest in England than in his own native Normandy. Lesyer says that for William, “England was a source of revenue, no more, no less.” 

Although subsequent monarchs were somewhat better on establishing positive relations with their English subjects, the murder of Thomas Becket in 1170 quickly led to the growth of his saintly cult and restarted pro-English views that had largely laid underground for the previous decades. Leyser makes a point of noting that it is “hard to find any English king who inspired affection,” and while countries like France produced hagiographies for some of their rulers, this did not exist in England. 

Leyser argues that it was also during this period that as the story of King Arthur became popularized by writers such as Geoffrey of Monmouth, he began to be seen as the ideal king, who would return and right all the wrongs imposed on the English people – and that these wrongs often were committed by the present-day kings. For Leyser, nationalist sentiment emerged in opposition to the crown, with King Arthur one of the main representatives of these views.With this in mind, it is not surprising that many English monarchs were lukewarm to depicting themselves as a new Arthur, and it was during the reign of Edward III that another English hero was given more prominence – St.George, a soldier from late antiquity who became the focus of several hagiographic legends. King Edward did much boost the figure of St.George, as well as that of the Virgin Mary. He tied the fortunes of the Plantagenet family to these two saints, and used their cults to promote his own rule.Leyser concludes by noting that by the late Middle Ages it was St.George who became the leading symbol of the English nation, giving “a crippling blow on Arthur, from which he never recovered.”

One small problem with that thesis:  Edward III died in 1377.  Guess who was born about 1405?