Monthly Archives: March 2026

8th Grade Literature: Inevitable v. “Evitable”

by Dave Mathwin

This week we finished our look at Asimov’s I Robot with it’s final story, “The Evitable Conflict.” Our first story involved a companion robot that could move but not speak. The last story moves decades into the future to a world where AI/robots essentially run the world though extensive and precise economic planning and coordination. War is a thing of the past, as is unemployment. Unquestionably humanity fares better in this new world, but accompanied with trade-offs

The final story has a somewhat banal premise. The seamless economy, the “perfect” robots, have performed wonders, but a few of their calculations have been slightly off. These errors have not caused any serious problems. Workers displaced from one industry, for example, quickly find work in another. But could these small errors presage the collapse of machine driven learning and governance? If so, would the people’s of earth (nations do not really exist anymore) descend into chaos?

The speed of AI advances has brought the subject of technology and human autonomy to the forefront of our minds, but the question is an old one. Many myths deal with this question, as does the Bible.

For example, both Hesiod and Ovid in their mythologies write about technology that comes soon after a golden age, a nod to the idea of Edenic paradise. Hesiod writes,

First of all the deathless gods who dwell on Olympus made a golden race of mortal men who lived in the time of Cronos when he was reigning in heaven. And they lived like gods without sorrow of heart, remote and free from toil and grief: miserable age rested not on them; but with legs and arms never failing they made merry with feasting beyond the reach of all evils. When they died, it was as though they were overcome with sleep, and they had all good things; for the fruitful earth unforced bare them fruit abundantly and without stint. They dwelt in ease and peace upon their lands with many good things, rich in flocks and loved by the blessed gods.

He goes on to write,

But when earth had covered this generation also — they are called blessed spirits of the underworld by men, and, though they are of second order, yet honour attends them also — Zeus the Father made a third generation of mortal men, a brazen race, sprung from ash-trees; and it was in no way equal to the silver age, but was terrible and strong. They loved the lamentable works of Ares and deeds of violence; they ate no bread, but were hard of heart like adamant, fearful men. Great was their strength and unconquerable the arms which grew from their shoulders on their strong limbs. Their armour was of bronze, and their houses of bronze, and of bronze were their implements: there was no black iron. These were destroyed by their own hands and passed to the dank house of chill Hades, and left no name: terrible though they were, black Death seized them, and they left the bright light of the sun.

We see in Genesis this same pattern linking the devlopment of technology with violence. In Genesis 4 the line of Cain first developed the implements of civilization, including cities, tools, and the arts. After killing his brother, Cain was condemned to be a wanderer. Adam and Eve had been covered with “garments of skin” after the Fall, for they could no longer be naked (we should read this in literal, but also metaphorical terms). We could no longer have a direct relationship with creation or God Himself. Cain’s punishment was meant to return him to “nakedness,” to help reconnect with God and the enormity of his terrible deed. Cain rejected that and immediately began to make “coverings” for himself in the form of a city and other implements of civilization.

We see that cities/”civilization” have a bad rap in the first section of Genesis. This obviously starts with Cain, but continues with the Tower of Babel, Sodom and Gomorrah, and Egypt. There are hints of another possible path, however, with Melchizadek in Genesis 14. The same tools that are used to isolate Cain’s line from God can also be used to build the tabernacle and other sacred vessels, which brought the Israelites potentially closer to God. We get a hint of the redemption of cities when King David takes Jerusalem and makes it his capital. Finally, in Revelation 21 we see that redemption means something more than a mere return to the Garden. Instead we have a garden enclosed with a city, which indicates that though technology involves “coverings” that come from the Fall, that too becomes part of the redemptive story.

Our relationship with technology should reflect this tension and this hope. Technology enhances human power and potential, which is not always a bad thing. But at the same time, those same advances make us reliant on the tool itself. For example, the Israelites were not forbidden from using chariots (a significant ancient military technology) but they had to limit their use of them and other means of obtaining power (Dt. 17:16, Is. 31:1, etc.). For centuries technology developed, but at a measurable pace. Over the last 150 years, and perhaps especially in the last 60-75 years, the speed of development and its immediate integration into society has made it difficult to know where the line between help and hindrance might be. Many of us might choose to limit our interactions with phones, for example, but nearly all of us have to interact with computers, cars, and a host of other technologies all the time to function at a baseline in the modern world.

In “The Evitable Conflict” Asimov shows himself as essentially an optimist about technology. We can coexist and thrive even with highly advanced and “intelligent” machines guiding us. Many fear that AI will stifle human activity and imagination. Asimov envisions a world where AI instead unlocks and spurs human innovation, and in this Asimov anticipated our modern debates by some 75 years.

In Asimov’s world we design all artificial intelligence to obey the three laws of robotics, and the first law means that robots are not allowed to harm humans. They have to obey humans, and preserve their own existence as well. In the story the characters grapple with the following options as to what happened:

  • The machines have made wrong conclusions. If true, this means that the premise that we should follow the advice of the machines may be faulty as well.
  • The machines have been fed false information deliberately by an unknown source. If true, this would mean that the machines were being delibearately led to false conclusions, which also would mean that the advice of the machines should always be viewed with suspicion.

By definition the machines cannot be wrong. But even if they were, they have developed too far too quickly for humanity to have any idea how to find the error and repair them. In an ironic twist, the advancement of machines means that only advanced machines can fix the machines.*

The protagonist of the stories, robopsychologist Dr. Susan Calvin, suggests that the robots may be giving slightly inaccurate information on purpose, in a sense, to protect themselves and to preserve human flourishing. At the end of the series of stories in I, Robot, the robots have learned to understand human emotions as well as the fluctuations of human behavior. It is perhaps possible that the AI can make things “perfect” in certain ways but it also “knows” that humanity won’t really accept that. So–the machines adjust, much like in the movie The Matrix.

The Head Coordinator suspects that some other regional heads are actually part of the Society for Humanity, which attempts to push back against our reliance on the machines. He then suggests that such people should be arrested and the organization banned.

Dr. Calvin advises against this. For one, such an action might make them martyrs and inspire more resistance. But her main objection is that the machines have taken such factors into account already. The small “errors” of the machines are in fact there on purpose to allow for humanity to have enough sense of autonomy that they do not rebel against the machines.

Asimov seems to be in favor of this state of affairs, but admittedly, I find it hard to be sure what he thinks.

Last week I showed the movie Primer to the class, for a variety of reasons. I wanted to expose them to sci-fi in another format, and I wanted to show them that great stories (the movie won many awards, and is a favorite of mine, so I am biased) do not need fancy effects or locales to achieve their purpose. But my main purpose in doing so was so that we could discuss the movie alongside of “The Evitable Conflict.”

The movie’s two main characters have two different perspectives on our relationship to time and causality. Without too many spollers, the story has two friends Aaron and Abe inadvertantly invent a means to go back in time for a day or two. They both realize the possibilities inherent with this for good or bad. They decide to use the machine a few times to get rich. But soon a rift develops bewteen them.

  • Aaron wants to unlock the metaphysical possibilities of the device. He doesn’t mind getting rich, but it’s not what really motivates him. Above all, he hates sameness and routine. His job, his middle class life, family, etc.—he chafes against it all. Could things have been different? Now, the machine allows one to try and see.
  • Abe believes that the order of things must be preserved at all cost. He is willing, through a very careful process, alter their lives (and no one else’s). But messing with order itself introduces the possibility of endless permutations that could destroy reality as we know it.

Most major technology that gets mainstreamed into society seems to have a paradoxical effect on us.

  • On the one hand, the new technology seems to offer nearly limitless possibility
  • On the other hand, it seems to create more uniformity of our human experience, not more diversity.

For example, Netflix offers thousands of different things to see. But most of the time, most of us,

  • Browse around for 10 minutes, then
  • End up watching one of the top shows advertised by Netflix

One might think that we would constantly be running into people telling us about the great show they unearthed on a streaming platform that you had not heard of before. But for most people, this rarely happens.

Another example . . . when the internet first became mainstream most believed that consumers would now have almost unlimited options about where to shop. We would no longer be confined to whatever stores we located nearby. And yet, most of us most of the time go to Amazon and buy what we need there. Amazon is so effecient and convenient, we feel no need to “shop around” like we might have 30-40 years ago.

Whether consciously or otherwise, Asimov tapped into this paradox with the last story in I, Robot. On one hand, following the advice of the machines leads to, by most means of measuring, greater human flourishing. But this state of affairs seems so homogenous, so routine, that it seems to be something “less” than human. Is Asimov then suggesting that machines are overall “better” than humans? Perhaps not, but I do think he believes that both have something to teach the other. That in itself is quite the controversial claim.

DM

*My dad has told me often that “back in the day” more or less everyone could repair their car with a small amount of knowledge and a few tools. Now, fixing cars requires specialized knowledge and tools. In many cases, fixing cars first means hooking your car up to a computer for it to diagnose the problem.

8th Grade Civics: An Experiment in Freedom

by Dave Mathwin

Greetings Everyone,

Having spent much of the year with 20th century history, Aristotle, and Machiavelli, we now shift our focus (without leaving either of them entirely behind) to our own Constitution and how it functions. The ‘tent pole’ related to this will be an extensive activity related to how our system of government works, and how our founders conceived of how democracy should best function.

Living 250 years after the fact, we take certain things about America for granted. Having lived with the same Constitution and the same general ideas for so long, we can imagine that such things are simply part of the structure of the universe at some level. In fact, many key concepts about the Constitution were radical for its time, and the founders saw it that way. America would be, and perhaps still is, an experiment whose final results may be undecided.

In the late 18th century, the main prevailing idea about democracy and republican government involved two key assumptions:

  • Democracies can work, but only within communities that are essentially homogenous, where people know each other and trust is high. Too much diversity within a community would create the need for a strong centralized state to hold people together, which was antithetical to democracy.
  • Plato thought the ideal size of the city should be 5000. Aristotle avoided choosing one fixed number, but thought that a large city of, for example, 100,000 people would be ungovernable. Other subsequent political thinkers thought likewise. All agreed that large republics would lead to the breakdown of democracy. The example of Rome proved this. The collapse of the Republic between 133-31 BC had many factors, but their overseas expansion into Africa and other parts of the Mediterranean certainly contributed.

Many often dismiss Plato as an impractical idealist, and some of his thought may deserve this. However, in his section of The Laws where he argues for the right size of the city, he makes the salient points that

  • We cannot rightly choose leaders if we have no way of actually knowing them
  • Communities are built first on trust, not law, and we cannot trust each other without having the possibility of knowing one another.
  • A community must have a “center,” which binds both in a spiritual/cultural manner and in a physical manner. This geographic center (usually a religious site) needs to be easily accessible to all for the community to function.
  • The larger the community, the more opportunity for variation exists. In a small community, differences between the wealth of each citizen would likely be moderate. But in a bigger community, with greater variation introduced, those differences would grow. In Beverly Hills, some houses are bigger than others, but everyone has a nice house. In a poorer area, houses are not as nice but everyone’s house is equally not as nice. If you combined Beverly Hills with poorer areas together, then you would have a problem.*

A more contemporary political writer admired by the founders was the French judge Charles Secondat Montesquieu,wrote in his Spirit of the Laws that

It is natural for a republic to have only a small territory; otherwise it cannot long subsist. In an extensive republic there are men of large fortunes, and consequently of less moderation; there are trusts too considerable to be placed in any single subject; he has interests of his own; he soon begins to think that he may be happy and glorious, by oppressing his fellow-citizens; and that he may raise himself to grandeur on the ruins of his country.

In an extensive republic the public good is sacrificed to a thousand private views; it is subordinate to exceptions, and depends on accidents. In a small one, the interest of the public is more obvious, better understood, and more within the reach of every citizen; abuses have less extent, and, of course, are less protected.

In the aftermath of the American Revolution, the different states had to decide how they would exist together. Combining would create a huge country, and every prominent thinker in every state knew political theory. Creating a government with greater central unity would have advantages, but could democracy survive the size and diversity of the country? Many had grave doubts.*

After the creation of the Constitution in 1787, each state hotly debated its merits. Many prominent revolutionaries (such as Virginia’s Patrick Henry) opposed its ratification. This led to James Madison and Alexander Hamilton (with an occasional assist from John Jay) to write a series of essays now known as the Federalist Papers, which made the case for the Constitution to the public at large.

James Madison wrote two of the more famous essays (#10, #51) that tackle the problem of large republics. In these essays, Madison ingeniously (though controversially) turns the problem of large republics on its head and attempts to flip the script. Madison begins by identifying faction as the key enemy of democracy. A “faction” comprises a group of people within the state who combine to act adversely to the public interest. An example might be a group that wants to pass a law imposing an extra tax on everyone with red hair. Such a law would obviously unfairly benefit the general population at the expense of a few.

Madison admits that given the fact that

  • Democracies allow for people to be different and believe different things, and
  • People are naturally selfish and unreasonable,

factions will inevitably exist. What to about them? We could either eliminate them or control their effects, i.e., limit the damage they cause. To eliminate them would mean refusing the population liberty and creatings stifling centralized governement. The cure would be worse than the disease.

The other option involves controlling their effects, and here Madison ingeniously and controversially flips the script. He argues that, in fact, a large republic can better control factions. In a small population, if the “tax the red haired people” faction comprised a majority in a small city, the faction would prevail. But that same faction would represent only a small part of a larger population and would pose no real threat to governance.

Of course, other factions would exist, some of them just as pernicious or worse. But the multiplicity of factions spread out over a significant area would end up canceling each other out. The large geography and the large population would act like water, which moderates the extremes of temperature.

One has to admire Madison’s audacity and ingenuity. The question remains–was he correct? One can reasonably answer the question in the following ways:

  • Madison was correct because we are still here 250 years later. We still have our Constitution and regular federal and state elections. We have had issues, bumps, and bruises but those are inevitable in any case.
  • Yes, Madison was right for his time but given our situation, his idea fails to land. Madison could not have foreseen the advent of mass media, which changes the equation. Mass media allows for the formation of a national consciousness and hence, nation-sized factions. We have seen factions take over and destroy both Germany and Japan in the 20th century, with the Nazi Party and a military dictatorship, respectively. One could argue that a faction ruled Russia/Soviet Union for nearly 75 years.
  • No, Madison was wrong. He had a brilliantly inventive idea, but one that simply was not correct. We have had continual problems with trying to live out a national life with a large republic. We barely survived the election of 1800. We had the Trail of Tears, the Nullification Crisis, the Civil War, Jim Crow laws, COVID controversies, etc. Aristotle and Plato were correct–a large republic creates too many problems, regardless of the presence of mass media or not. We would be better off with thousands of different smaller communities scattered throughout the continent.

Whatever one might think of Madison’s ideas, we should realize that our founders conceived of America as an experiment that might not work, and that each succeeding generation has to maintain the delicate balance required to keep a republic.

Dave

*Plato thinks faction is a problem, but believes that distraction is the biggest problem a state can face, and he relates this to the disparity of wealth that can exist between citizens. He writes,

The form of law which I should propose as the natural sequel would be as follows:-In a state which is desirous of being saved from the greatest of all plagues-not faction, but rather distraction;-here should exist among the citizens neither extreme poverty, nor, again, excess of wealth, for both are productive of both these evils. Now the legislator should determine what is to be the limit of poverty or wealth. Let the limit of poverty be the value of the lot; this ought to be preserved, and no ruler, nor any one else who aspires after a reputation for virtue, will allow the lot to be impaired in any case. This the legislator gives as a measure, and he will permit a man to acquire double or triple, or as much as four times the amount of this. But if a person have yet greater riches, whether he has found them, or they have been given to him, or he has made them in business, or has acquired by any stroke of fortune that which is in excess of the measure, if he give back the surplus to the state, and to the Gods who are the patrons of the state, he shall suffer no penalty or loss of reputation; but if he disobeys this our law any one who likes may inform against him and receive half the value of the excess, and the delinquent shall pay a sum equal to the excess out of his own property, and the other half of the excess shall belong to the Gods. And let every possession of every man, with the exception of the lot, be publicly registered before the magistrates whom the law appoints, so that all suits about money may be easy and quite simple.

8th Grade Literature: Robots on the Brain

by Dave Mathwin

This week we began our reading of Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot, a famous and influential collection of short stories oriented around the theme of human interaction with robots in the near future. Asimov wrote these stories in the 1940’s and 50’s, but he was remarkably prescient about some of the issues and concerns those in the future (us) would have about the advances in this kind of technology. The stories begin with robots that interact with humans but cannot talk, to robots that make active predictions, invent religions, and learn to lie which pose a host of problems for their human inventors. I don’t see Asimov as warning his readers so much as informing them that the advance of robots, whether ultimately for good or ill, is inevitable.

Asimov has robots developed with three laws:

  • A robot may not injure a human being, or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm
  • A robot must obey the orders of a human being, unless that order conflicts with the first law
  • A robot must protect its own existence so long as doing so does not conflict with the other two laws.

The laws are hierarchically structured, so that Law 1 takes precedence over Law 2, and so forth.

The three laws look solid. Their simplicity is their strength. But stories deal with the implications of these three laws, as the technology develops. One of the strenghts of Asimov’s work is that what looks simple on its face becomes complex as we interact with the new technology.

Some time ago a friend who worked as a computer programmer said something to the effect of, “Computers will do exactly what you tell them to do. When we have a problem with a computer, we likely either a) Do not understand what we told the computer to do, or b) We told the computer something different than what we thought we told them.” This holds true in the stories we have read so far.

The first story involves a robot that a family buys to serve as a companion for a young child. Obviously, they want the robot to be safe, and to look out for the safety of the child. The robot would have to be accommodating to get along with the child. But this in turn means that the robot would then enjoy what the child enjoys as a robot would, which means . . . all the time. What child wouldn’t want a companion that essentially plays with you and accommodates you whenever you want.

The child, naturally, would bond to the robot and forget about other children. The mother in the story sounds exactly like parents today. The concern is the same, only the particulars have changed. Every mother who worries about their child’s attachment to their phones, computers, or video games (why can’t they play with children instead of machines?), sounds just like the mother in the opening story, “Robbie.”

But . . . if the child is happy and if the robot protects her from disaster (which he does), and if robots are the way of the future and are simply part of how kids grow up these days, then the presence of robots becomes inevitable eventually. In this way, the mother in the story comes across slightly as the “bad guy” and such is the subversive nature of Asimov’s first story. Asimov wants us, I think, to be precise about the nature of our objection to robots.

  • Is it that we dislike change? But change in any society is inevitable.
  • Is it that we dislike the speed of change? The change may be uncomfortably fast, but if others are doing it, won’t we have to adapt to keep up? Civilizations that fall behind often get absorbed by other civilizations.
  • Is it that we dislike this particular form of technology? Ok, but how would a robot differ qualitatively from other technology that we already use? For example, a dishwasher is a robot that does not move or talk, though it does communicate with us. Our phones cannot move but can talk back to us on some level.

My impression is that with these stories, Asimov wants to force us to come to a clear understanding of what our views of life, technology, and “progress” actually are. We can’t dislike something just because it is new, or just because it is shocking or unnerving. For example, when cars were an extremely disruptive technology when first introduced, but are now just part of society. But I am also guessing that Asimov would not simply agree that any new thing must therefore be adopted. The hard question remains—where to draw the line, and why?

In the first story, “Robbie” (the robot) becomes more human like the longer he interacts with the child. For example, he learns to have favorite stories. But for humans to interact with robots, they have to learn to think according to the 3 Laws, which means, thinking like robots think. In time, some kind of overlap between robot and human “psychology” and behavior become inevitable, another unintended consequence of technology.

In all the stories, Asimov sets up the narrative so that the robot cannot really be blamed. They follow instructions. The problem is that we cannot anticipate all the ways in which they might follow those instructions, and how that will change society and humanity all at once.

In one story this means that robots learn to lie in ways similar to humans. As robot technology advances they interact more socially with humans. When we interact with those we know, we do not always tell each other the unvarnished truth. We might tell a friend that an outfit looks good even if we don’t think so, as just one example. After all, we don’t want to “harm” our friend by telling them what we really think. As the stories progess and our interaction with robots gets more complex, the robots’ ability to follow Law 1 (no harm to humans) increases. This, in turn, means that robots start to tell people what they think they want to hear, which leads to great confusion.

The Jazz Age

by Dave Mathwin

Some no doubt find themselves enormously annoyed at the rise of flat earth ideas. I find flat earth theories fascinating, though in no way do I profess belief in a scientifically measurable flat earth. The Earth is round. But, I confess, I would find it hilariously fun if indeed the Earth was physically flat, probably because I am not a scientist.

I find the recent appearance of these ideas intriguing not because I find them convincing, but because of what it says about our cultural moment. In other words, the “physical” part of what flat-earthers say might amount to nothing. The fact that they say it, and that many seem to agree, surely evidences a general weakening of the center in our culture–a signal amidst the noise. We no longer trust even the most basic of assumed narratives.

Traditional authorities and traditional ways of creating meaning in our culture no longer work. Many loaded criticism onto the CDC for how they handled COVID. I have no great love for the CDC, but one could view them not as the main character in a tragedy, but almost as a minor player in a much larger narrative. This breakdown of trust in the central narrative has happened in other areas as well, in elections, in the media in general, and so on.

But, while I have a large amount of trust that we live on a round earth, we all know that experientially we live on a flat earth most of the time. We do not experience the rotation of the earth–we see the sun move. Our senses are not lying to us. Here the bare facts of the Earth’s rotation matters much less than our experienced reality. Our experience shapes reality more so than the other way round.

On his Marginal Revolution blog Tyler Cowen posted an amusing link to every problem laid at the feet of jazz in the 1920’s and 30’s. If one takes the time to peruse, we see jazz blamed for

  • Warts
  • Small family sizes
  • Indigestion
  • Difficulties in college athletics

and so on. The natural reaction for us moderns typically involves a bemused smile at the obtuseness of panicky fools in the past. Perhaps we imagine that we ourselves would never react in such a way. The key here for historians at least, involves seeing if any signals exist amidst this mishmash of chatter.*

Most every western culture experienced profound shifts after W.W. I. One can argue that such changes had their roots in developments decades earlier, in the Industrial Revolution, or centuries earlier with the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment. One can go back further if you want. Making connections like this has its place, but we also need to separate, to delineate, as well as join together. Acknowledging the myriad of forces that drive change, we should ask if Jazz in the 20’s and 30’s stands out in any particular way.

Many have remarked how W.W. I destroyed the last vestiges of aristocracy in Europe, both physically and culturally/spiritually. This brought about more democracy politically, but perhaps more importantly, also culturally. Now the “bottom,” or “low” culture would have more prominence. I do not use these terms in a derogatory way. High and Low culture both have their place–the question involves what place, exactly. Perhaps one could argue that

  • Beethoven (maybe Mozart?) helped start this downward movement by using emotional themes and motifs heavily starting in the middle of his career. This has significance because of the place of emotions in the structure of the body, which reflects in certain respects the structure of the cosmos. Appealing to the emotions meant appealing to our bellies, what lays “lower” in our being.
  • With Franz Liszt, we see a mixture of high and low culture (‘high’ skill with ‘low’ folk motifs) with a ‘low’ reaction to him (ladies swoon and scream–he’s a rock star).
  • At the turn of the century Mahler (whose music I neither like nor understand, so take this with salt) completes the destruction of the classical forms, paving the way for something else. Maybe Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring worked in a similar way upon the world.

The visual arts mirror this trend in music, starting with Turner as early impressionism, down to Monet, Van Gogh, and then finally Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase

Joseph Mallord William Turner (British, London 1775–1851 London) The Lake of Zug, 1843 British, Watercolor over graphite; 11 3/4 x 18
Nude Descending a Staircase

This progression towards less fixed form and more loose, popular expression up until W.W I certainly took place, but the dam had not burst, so to speak, however many cracks any perceptive observer might have noted at the time.

But with the breakout of jazz and swing. suddenly popular, “low” culture became the dominant culture, flipping things from a top-down/old-to-young to the reverse. Now the young grabbed the throne, and culture obligingly followed. The manic way people took to this new form should indicate that something was not quite right. Clearly, something happened in how we viewed the world, something throttled us, in a sense, and made us into something new.

Marshal McLuhan has the fascinating idea that the switch to electricity primarily drove this change, which began in earnest just before W.W. I. His complex argument can get boiled down to his belief that

  • The culture of ‘printing press’ man would lend itself to a filtered experience of the world. We gained the ability to separate our experiences in a detached way. For example, any selection from Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier has emotional content, but that comes later in the listening experience and not right away.
  • The electric age would thrust western man back in time, to a more tribal mode of culture, where sensory experience integrates and brings everything “all at once.”
  • Whichever culture we prefer, this sort of culture will not facilitate the “cool” detachment needed in a linear print culture. We would now run “hot,” experiencing culture When listening to, for example, James Brown, the impact is immediate, and does not lend itself to analysis as does Bach.

Again, whether one regards this shift as good, bad, or indifferent, it represents a massive psychic shift in perception, which would lead to a new way of life.

I do not suggest that we should adopt McCluhan’s thoughts whole hog. Exploring religious factors would also yield interesting results. But culture stands right next to religion, and I find his lens a good one. The music of jazz, appearing right at the advent of radio and electricity, fits into this shift. The experience of early swing music at least has an immediacy, and totality of effect.

The linked post from Marginal Revolution about the impacts of jazz show lack of thought, some stabs in the dark, and some panic. But those early worry-warts had an intuitive insight–they knew that something big was afoot that would alter everything.

In its modern incarnation, democracy arose from the pinnacle of the print age in the late 18th century. Our political practice, and our rights, such as freedom of speech, require a certain amount of practiced detachment. This posture now runs in short supply in certain aspects of our culture, and we may soon experience a seismic shift akin to what took place in the 20’s and 30’s. So, when we poke fun at the past and assume our own superiority, we should pause. Our modern world might resemble chickens without their heads soon enough. If the bare facts don’t tell that story, our experience might. Historians should look in both places.

Dave

*None of what follows should be seen as disparaging to jazz. It is one of my favorite musical genres. I regard Count Basie (more than Louie Armstrong or Miles Davis, though obviously they are all magnificent), as one of the great emblems of American culture of the 20th century. No one managed such a distinctive, punchy, groove for longer. Miles Davis had more intellectual inventiveness, and John Coltrane played with more rich emotion. Neither of them have nearly as much fun as Count Basie. Likewise, Basie could never be considered the best piano player, and maybe not even a “great” piano player (though I would say so, but admittedly in a certain sense of the term). But he was always the most fun, as this little moment at the 4:05 mark attests.

8th Grade Civics: Democracy Moderated

by Dave Mathwin

Greetings Everyone,

This week we nearly wrapped up our look at Machiavelli’s The Prince and also, in light of the conflict in Iran, revisited sections of Machiavelli related to “occupying territory.” The conflict in Iran also relates tangentially to the section we examined this week on the ruler and his relationship to flattery.

Machiavelli writes,

I do not wish to leave out an important branch of this subject, for it is a danger from which princes are with difficulty preserved, unless they are very careful and discriminating. It is that of flatterers, of whom courts are full, because men are so self-complacent in their own affairs, and in a way so deceived in them, that they are preserved with difficulty from this pest, and if they wish to defend themselves they run the danger of falling into contempt. Because there is no other way of guarding oneself from flatterers except letting men understand that to tell you the truth does not offend you; but when every one may tell you the truth, respect for you abates.

Therefore a wise prince ought to hold a third course by choosing the wise men in his state, and giving to them only the liberty of speaking the truth to him, and then only of those things of which he inquires, and of none others; but he ought to question them upon everything, and listen to their opinions, and afterwards form his own conclusions. With these councillors, separately and collectively, he ought to carry himself in such a way that each of them should know that, the more freely he shall speak, the more he shall be preferred; outside of these, he should listen to no one, pursue the thing resolved on, and be steadfast in his resolutions. He who does otherwise is either overthrown by flatterers, or is so often changed by varying opinions that he falls into contempt.

Machiavelli continues with an example that was “modern” to his own time:

I wish on this subject to adduce a modern example. Fra Luca, the man of affairs to Maximilian, the present emperor, speaking of his majesty, said: He consulted with no one, yet never got his own way in anything. This arose because of his following a practice the opposite to the above; for the emperor is a secretive man–he does not communicate his designs to any one, nor does he receive opinions on them. But as in carrying them into effect they become revealed and known, they are at once obstructed by those men whom he has around him, and he, being pliant, is diverted from them. Hence it follows that those things he does one day he undoes the next, and no one ever understands what he wishes or intends to do, and no one can rely on his resolutions.

Some might say that Machiavelli’s observations do not really apply to our situation, seeing as how we do not have “Princes” and “Courts”where they can be flattered. I believe, however, that

  • With the significant growth of executive power since WW II, and perhaps especially in the post 9/11 era, we may be moving into something more similar to Machiavelli’s scenario than we may realize.
  • The dynamics of power and human nature are likely to be quite similar regardless of the particular political system involved.
  • Machiavelli’s thoughts about flattery are related to the idea of democracy in general, specifically–if we take democracy as a good thing, is it possible to have too much of a good thing? How “responsive” to the people do we want our political leaders to be?

If we see this metaphorically, we might envision the man bereft of good counsel and surrounded by flatterers akin to a man on a deserted island. Though he may be surrounded by people, he is in fact alone, for all he sees and hears will only be a reflection of himself. The leader who allows everyone to speak his mind anytime is surrounded by everything all at once, akin to a man bobbing along after being washed away by a flood, with no proper means to distinguish good advice from bad.

I recall reading about a famous marketing study done at a store offering samples of their distinctive jams and jellies. They wanted to boost sales, and had a table offering around 15 different products for shoppers to choose from. This ploy did not boost sales. Customers might try a sample but rarely then went and bought it from the shelves. The store brought in a consultant, who told them to limit their samples to two or three at most. This move boosted sales immediately. Their first strategy overwhelmed their customers, who might have enjoyed the sample they had, but would then wonder if perhaps one of the other 13-14 options might be better.

Machiavelly suggests that what is needed is not so much a certain number of opinions, but a certain type of person who has a proper procedure for how to hear and process different opinions.

A prince, therefore, ought always to take counsel, but only when he wishes and not when others wish; he ought rather to discourage every one from offering advice unless he asks it; but, however, he ought to be a constant inquirer, and afterwards a patient listener concerning the things of which he inquired; also, on learning that no one, on any consideration, has not told him the truth, he should let his anger be felt.

We explored these thoughts in class and it led to us trying to connect them to the situation in Iran.

First, Machiavelli’s insights inform us that democracy may be a good thing, but it is a relative, and not an absolute good. Leaders who constantly shift their ideas and policies based on polling will not lead. They will lose respect and essentially abicate their position. But for democracy to work, our leaders have to listen and stay connected to the people to some degree. Again, democracy needs proper channels to give us effective governance.

Machiavelli was not considering democracy when he wrote this chapter, but his thoughts can readily be applied to our situation. The students considered whether or not an elected official or one who inherits his position would potentially be more subject to flattery. As the students observed, on the one hand

  • Those who inherit power might come from a society where those with less status regularly and by custom offer those of higher birth praise and privilege. Flatterry would come naturally in such a situation.

But on the other . . .

  • Those who inherit power in theory have no need to support their right to rule with adulation. They do not need the acclaim of the people to rule. They have no need of the people to rule, so they should be immune from flattery
  • Democratically elected leaders have to constantly have an eye on the polls, and they make seek an admiring entourage to insulate them from the criticism that comes with any democratic country.

With the growth of presidential power over the last few generations, combined with having a large professional standing army, the need to consult Congress or public opinion before military action has decreased significantly. The growth of technology has significantly compressed time and space, so that the speed at which things can happen has increased dramatically. If everyone can be faster, you have to be faster still. In this environment, public consultation and debate can be seen as a luxury even a democracy cannot afford. The advantages of surprise, while not decisive, have also likely increased as the ability to pinpoint targets and destroy them has also increased. For example, most everyone would argue that the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 was a success. And yet, in that very successful (for it’s time at least) attack, the Japanese missed many crucial potential targets, including fuel depots, power stations, factories for ship-building, and the like. Had the Japanese hit these targets, any effective US response in the Pacific could have been delayed by several months. Today, the addition of 7-8 more missiles with precision guidance could take care of that problem.

All of this could in theory be cited in support of a massive attack without Congressional support or any public conversation in the preceding weeks leading up to the attack. However, such actions would signal new democratic norms moving forward. If these new norms harden into consistent practice, this even more weight put on our already fraught presidential elections, for it would further concentrate executive power.

However, as Machiavelli hints, democracy requires some public discourse, and some “counsel” from other avenues of democractic power. Here Aristotle, our other main reading partner this year, would likely agree with Machiavelli. The best things in life come in the form of the golden mean between extremes.

Dave