8th Grade Literature: Fair is Foul

Greetings Everyone,

This week we started our next book in our curriculum, Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Macbeth‘s plot is fairly straightforward, and this gives us a clear opportunity to see how Shakespeare’s literary genius shapes the meaning of the story through his use of language and setting. Shakespeare was also an expert psychologist, and again in this instance, the simple structure of the plot allows us to explore more fully what happens to a human being when they make the wrong choices.

Shakespeare inhabited a world where the concept of the “Great Chain of Being,” where each thing, and each being, in the created order has its proper place. When the world is properly ordered, the world becomes intelligible and we can know how to act meaningfully within the world. This concept stems from the Genesis creation account, which begins with chaos, and then over time God makes distinctions between sea and dry land, plants and animals, men and women, and so on.

Understanding this will help us put Macbeth’s terrible moral choices in the proper context, and the play explores, among other things, the questions of “what is a man?” and “what is a woman?”

We this theme introduced in Act I, Scene 1, where we meet the the “weird sisters,” the three witches. Their famously end this scene with the words,

Fair is foul, and foul is fair;
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

First, we note that Shakespeare wrote all of his plays in Iambic Pentameter. Iambic meters have a slightly lilting quality, with an alternation of unstressed and stressed syllables. The original tune for “Amazing Grace” is iambic, for example. But Shakespeare opens this play with the witches speaking in Trochaic Tetrameter. Trochaic meters have the opposite structure of iambs. Their first syllable is stressed, the second unstressed, and so on. Trochaic speech then, is often harsh and uneven, the opposite of melodic.

Here is a quick primer on Iambic Pentameter:

And here is a brief intro to trochaic tetrameter:

It makes sense that the witches would use this kind of speech, The rhythms contrast sharply to the speech of the other characters, which sets them apart phonetically but also spiritually. Fundamentally, the witches are not really women, and not really human. Of course, they possess the requisite DNA for a human being, but we would not want to define a human being strictly by DNA alone. Their evil actions deeply mar their humanity through by deeply eroding the image of God within them. More specifically, they are not just human beings generally but women in particular. For Shakespeare and others, women primarly have a nuturing role in the created order, and have the unique gift of bringing life into the world. Here in scene one, the witches (who have beards, another clue to the confusion of their being and their sex) talk of nothing other than murdering others through their manipulation of the elements.

Shakespeare has them meet on a heath, a particular kind of Scottish landscape. Heath’s are uncultivated, wild places, usually damp and misty, with scrub brush here and there. The disorder of the heath presage the disorder of the play. In such places, it is easy to get lost physically, and this mirrors the spiritual wilderness Macbeth will put himself in with his choices later in the play.

So while the plot of Macbeth is straightforward and satisfying in certain respects, the context in which the events unfold will challenge the views of modern readers. Many of us see our moral choices, whether good or bad, happening on something akin to a blank canvas. What matters for many today is not our surroundings or our bodies but merely our will. For Shakespeare and others of his time, an important ingredient in our moral choices was our place in the created order and those around us. In Shakespeare’s worldview, we invite ruin upon ourselves when we assume that our context, our place in the created order, can simply be overwritten by our mere choice. Such actions will inevitably confuse us and distort our view of reality, as happens to Macbeth. In addition, our confusion spreads to others and chaos reigns. Among many other truths, this play shows us that no man is an island.

Dave

8th Grade Civics: Aristotle and Terminal Lucidity

Jan16 by Dave Mathwin

Many who have worked with the elderly, such as doctors and nurses, have noted a pattern of a curious and often confusing phenomena, called “terminal lucidity.” A patient may be ill and lingering for some time. Then, they experience a burst of mental clarity and physical energy that seems to come from out of nowhere, which can last for hours or even days. The families and friends of the patient often misinterpret these events. They believe that the patient has recovered and will get better. In reality, such an event usually means that death is near. In some mysterious way for some mysterious reason, this can often be how a person prepares to die.

One can witness a similar phenomena with civilizations in general. A few years ago I wrote another post that explored this same pheonomena related to industrialization and World War I, and related that era to the 1990’s. In some ways, the experience of terminal lucidity resembles that of a newborn, with periods of intense activity coupled with lots of sleep. The end and the beginning resemble each other.

That same post looked at the 1990’s. That era, curiously enough, resembled the beginning of post-WW II America in a few odd ways. But in retrospect, what we experienced in the 1990’s was not a rebirth of a new America, but the terminal lucidity of post-WW II America.

Some may question this. Did not America experience all of the following in the 1990’s?

Significant Economic Growth
Invention of transformational technologies (internet, cell phones)
An era of global peace in many ways sponsored by America
In cultural matters, record sales of albums and newspaper circulation reaching its peak most likely around 1989.

This last item is noteworthy, and an example of the terminal lucidity experienced in both industries. The internet, designed to maximize the flow of information, might initially seem a logical extension of both the music and print mediums, but in fact, ended up destroying them.

In his Politics, after defining the key features of different forms of government, Aristotle then goes on to show how each of these respective orders can break down. They usually break down, he notes, when certain trends within a society, sometimes beneficial at first, get extended beyond their normal bounds, and then begin to work against the poltical order rather than for it.

The portion of text we worked with from Book V of the Politics is lenghty, so I will summarize it here:

Problem 1: Insolence and Greed

By this Aristotle means rulers (we can think of judges, senators, etc.) that use their power to enrich themselves. If just one or two people in power did this, and if they took just a little, it might not be noticed. Even if it was noticed, the problem could be dealt with.

The issue would be if other judges/senators caught on and joined in. Quickly those stealing would realize that the pot of gold was finite. They would then compete to see who could take how much by forming alliances with other senators and judges. Then, we would have the equivalent of different gangs competing for turf in the same city, and the state would cease to function.

Problem 2: Superiority

The state functions normally, but then something arises that causes a portion of the state (such as the presidency) to grow disproportionately in power. Perhaps this was necessary given the circumstances, but if balance is not restored, the constitution as people know it would collapse.

Problem 3: Fear

Imagine a general who committed war crimes who does not want prosecuted. The way out of this could be for him to take everyone that was loyal to him and usurp the ruling power. If he was in charge, there would be no prosecution.

This may sound far-fetched, but you could argue this is exactly what happened to the Roman Republic under Julius Caesar.

Problem 4: Loss of Balance and Proportion

This is similar to #2, but can arise more slowly, and for good motives. Think of someone who wants to get stronger. They go the gym, but only work out their arms and their calves. After several months they are stronger in some ways but their body would look weird and cause problems for the person.

In the same way, it may be natural and good for the state to grow. Imagine a port city that suddenly experiences a boom in trade. Certain people would benefit directly, such as dock workers and harbor masters. But if these benefits did not spread to the city at large, it would be disproportionate growth. Or perhaps a country experiences dramatic growth in one industry but decline in others. This would shift the equilibrium of the state.

Problem 5: Change

Change is in some ways inevitable and can be good. But Aristotle cautions against change that comes too quickly, or change that alters the identity of a state. As people we may change, but if we become in some ways a different person, that will cause problems with our relationships. The same is true in culture at large.

Problem 6: Immigration

Aristotle is not averse to the growth of a state, provided that it grows slowly and “naturally.” Aristotle is in favor of the state sometimes admitting strangers. But if a state brings too many people in with a different culture and religion, then this will cause tension and alter the way group dynamics function.

It is interesting to think about this as it applies to America. Aristotle’s context was the Greek city-state, which were always much smaller than modern countries, ranging from a few thousand to perhaps ten thousand in most instances. In this context, taking in even just several hundred new people would alter things significantly. Aristotle is primarily concerned here not with whether the impact of the new population would be good or bad necessarily. He primarily focuses on the change and destabilization the new population would bring to the body politic.

Whatever position we might take on the current disagreement about immigration in America, we can see that the issue has caused a great deal of controversy and sharply divides our population. If our immigration policy could remain steady for decades, rather than shifting sharply back and forth, our politics would be much better off.

Problem 7: Improper Construction of the State

This is not a problem that develops, but one that lies latent at the inception of the state. With this issue, we can imagine that at a city’s founding, the design of the constitution was flawed in some way. Maybe the founders did not think clearly enough. Maybe some saw the problem, but wanted to rush things through in the belief that things would work themselves out. But over time the latent misalignment would reveal itself, creating an impossible situation of faithfulness to a faulty constitution or revolution.

Those who have watched enough war movies are familiar with this dilemma. A regiment receives orders, but everyone knows that the orders make no sense and would lead to mass casualties. Many want to disregard the orders. But others counter that following orders is what makes an army an army. It’s what holds troops together on the same page. Without orders, who are we and what have we left? The divisions the troops would experience mirror the divisions a society would have with a faulty constitution.

Not all of the issues Aristotle raises mirror the analogy of terminal lucidity that happens to presage shifts in the life of a civilization, but some do. Possibly, for example a slight increase in presidential power could benefit a society at certain times under certain conditions. The society then thinks more is always better, and leans into presidential solutions for their problems. The executive branch might then think that they are experiencing a golden age of presidential power, while in fact, a hard reset might be just around the corner. Or imagine corrupt officials starting small, but then organizing their graft on a large scale. It might appear to them that they have never been “better off” but having involved so many in the corruption, things are bound to unravel soon enough.

Aristotle always comes back to the idea of balance and proportion, and we see this in his ideas about the problems states face.

Dave

8th Grade Civics: Regime Change

Jan9 by Dave Mathwin

Greetings all,

Before Christmas break we wrapped up our unit on the Cold War, and right at the end of that era we initiated a military operation to remove a leader from a Latin America country. In 1989 we invaded Panama to depose the de facto leader, Manuel Noriega. He eventually surrendered and was convicted at his trial in the United States. Purely from the perspective of a history teacher, our actions in Venezuela occurred at just the right time. We discussed in class some similarities and differences bewteen the two events, and brought in Machiavelli’s perspective to aid our discussion.

We struck at Noriega for a variety of reasons that can likely be condensed to

Drugs
Safeguarding the democratic process in Panama
Protecting the viability of the Panama Canal

Operation Just Cause was controversial then and now, with questions abounding about its legality according to international law and the constitutional powers of the presidency. Depending on which source one uses, casualties ranged from 500 to 1000 people, But in terms of results, most everyone agrees that the United States achieved its political goals in the operation. In time Panama became a stable, democratic state friendly to US interests. At the time, the people of Panama overwhelmingly supported the operation, and Panama’s subsequent political history bears this out.

Time will tell regarding the ultimate success of our extraction of President Maduro. Will he be convicted? Will Venezuela transform politcally? Will the US garner support in the region or not? Such questions will need a few years before we have the answer. But we can look to history and its observers to aid our speculation amidst our confusing political moment.

In class we looked at two chapters of Machiavelli’s The Prince to inform our discussion.

Machiavelli examines how one ruler can take effective control of another land and govern it either personally or via proxy. As usual, Machiavelli avoids the moral question of whether or not one should or should not do so, and concentrates on the conditions for success should one wish to undertake the action.

He identifies two paths to success:

Control the territory through occupation. This requires patience and a lot of money. But if one has the resources (both financial and in terms of political and military will) this will usually give one success.
Destroy the territory and scatter its inhabitants. This is simpler and much more effecient than the above option. However, many will consider these actions cruel and your reputation as a ruler will be sullied for posterity.

Machiavelli frankly admits that because of this, few rulers should consider seeking to control other lands. Most lack the stomach for it. Most, he argues, unable to “rip off the band-aid” will attempt to be “nice,” or take short-cuts, and their efforts will ultimately fail. It would have been much better if they never attempted anything in the first place.

Various political scientists have tried to tease out the principles behind Machiavelli’s to apply them to modern actions. For example, if one wants to occupy an entire geographic region one must indeed scatter the inhabitants of the entire region. But what if the “territory” you wish to occupy is merely the seat of power itself? In that case, when one “scatters the inhabitants” you can confine yourself to those with political power rather than the whole of the population. Here is one clue as to why Panama might have worked, for we entirely dismantled Panama’s governing elite and rendered it’s military ineffective. In Afghanistan, we certainly did not sufficiently “scatter” or destroy the Taliban, and they were able to return to power.

Time will reveal whether or not our actions in Venezeula will turn out for good or ill. Machiavelli would likely argue that taking out only Maduro would qualify as a half-measure that will likely make things more difficult for us in the long run. We shall see.

Perhaps Machiavelli’s most infamous section of The Prince comes in chapter 17, where he writes,

Coming now to the other qualities mentioned above, I say that every prince ought to desire to be considered clement and not cruel. Nevertheless he ought to take care not to misuse this clemency. Cesare Borgia was considered cruel; notwithstanding, his cruelty reconciled the Romagna, unified it, and restored it to peace and loyalty. And if this be rightly considered, he will be seen to have been much more merciful than the Florentine people, who, to avoid a reputation for cruelty, permitted Pistoia to be destroyed. Therefore a prince, so long as he keeps his subjects united and loyal, ought not to mind the reproach of cruelty; because with a few examples he will be more merciful than those who, through too much mercy, allow disorders to arise, from which follow murders or robberies; for these are wont to injure the whole people, whilst those executions which originate with a prince offend the individual only.

Nevertheless he ought to be slow to believe and to act, nor should he himself show fear, but proceed in a temperate manner with prudence and humanity, so that too much confidence may not make him incautious and too much distrust render him intolerable.

A question arises out of this, namely: Is it better to be loved than feared or better to be feared than loved? Well, one would like to be both; but it’s difficult for one person to be both feared and loved, and when a choice has to be made it is safer to be feared. The reason for this is a fact about men in general: they are ungrateful, fickle, deceptive, cowardly and greedy. As long as you are doing them good, they are entirely yours: they’ll offer you their blood, their property, their lives, and their children—as long as there is no immediate prospect of their having to make good on these offerings; but when that changes, they’ll turn against you. And a prince who relies on their promises and doesn’t take other precautions is ruined.

What is Machiavelli advocating?

First, we can note that when Machiavelli uses the word “love” he does not have the Christian definition of the word in mind. From the context, it seems that he means something akin to infatuation. We have seen how certain people rise to prominence only to experience a fall a few months later (Elon Musk comes to mind as a recent example), and given the context, I think this is what he means. Having people be infatuated with those in power does give leaders a brief moment when they could hypothetically receive a lot of support and accomplish a great deal. But like the wind, such infatuation comes and goes.

Fear also does not last forever, but it does last longer than “love” as Machiavelli defines it. By “fear” Machiavelli means (I think) the obedience and stability inspired via wanting to avoid punishment. It is stability, I think, that is Machiavelli’s key concern. For example, Machiavelli understands that leaders can be immoral, but if their immorality affects the lives of the public, such as raising taxes and pocketing the money yourself, you will not last in power long. The people will not take kindly to the disruption you brought into their lives. On the other hand, if a ruler had a mistress and destroyed his marriage, that wouldn’t be a good thing, but it would not directly impact the lives of the people. In such cases, the public will usually either forgive or look past your misdeeds.

Here is a positive spin on Machavelli’s trade-off:

Many parents, for example, do not want to be seen as the “bad guy.” In addition, the amount of decisions parents make in a day can be wearisome, and it is hard to always know what is right. Thus, some parents will often hedge about certain decisions. “Dad, can I do ‘x’?” The dad has doubts about ‘x,’ but also (like any parent), likes to say “yes” to his son. He is ultimately not sure about ‘x’ and wants to think about it.

So, dad hedges, and says, “Maybe you can do ‘x,’ under certain parameters for a certain length of time. Let me think about it.” The dad hopes that he shows that the child that he is reasonable and open. But often these kinds of actions produced confusion and unhappiness in the child.

The dad who simply says, “No,” and adds, “and you know better than to even ask,” seems cruel at first glance. The child may be momentarily upset, but will get over it soon. Above all, the child knows where he stands, and experiences no confusion. In the end, this child is probably happier in the long run.

Alas, I (and perhaps others who read this as well) have often tried the hedge described above and found experience to be a hard, but fair, teacher.

8th Grade Literature: Medea at a Crossroads

Jan9 by Dave Mathwin

As we move into Book Three of the Argonautica we get introduced to Medea, which sets up the central dramatic problem of the epic.

Greek literature followed Greek religion and delved into the nature of human choice, Fate, and the gods. Actions between men and the gods are often countered and then countermanned again. The gods push and pull against each other and mankind mirrors their actions. The line between what humans can control and what they must submit to from the gods is always blurry, and so it is in our story.

Jason was set on a quest by his uncle to retrieve the Golden Fleece, an ancient gift representing kingly power. Jason claims the throne belongs to him, so it is somewhat natural that he should need some emblem of royal dignity to accompany him. He was set on this quest to fail, however, as his uncle intended. The owner of the fleece, Aeetes, will never relinquish it. Jason has so far shown he lacks the brawn to overpower anyone. He has shown cunning and diplomacy in spurts, but that will not be enough to defeat Aetes in his own backyard.

At this point, Hera, backed by Athena, enters the story. She is a fan of Jason, as Jason one time did Hera a good turn when she was disguised as an old woman. More to the point, she hates Jason’s uncle Peleus, who regularly ignored her altars. She wants Jason to have the fleece, and decides to use Aeetes’ daughter Medea to help him get it. Medea is shot by Eros/Cupid, and falls irrevocably in love with Jason. This is tragic largely because Medea will be torn between her “love” for Jason and for her duty to her family and city. For her, helping Jason would be akin to treason. If she gains Jason, she will lose everything else.

Her choice of Medea is not random. Medea is a priestess of Hecate, and Hecate was the goddess of witchcraft, liminal borders, and magic.

Hecate was also the goddess of crossroads, which is reflected in the three directional statue of Hecate above. And this is appropriate as well, for Medea’s decision whether or not to help Jason will put her life on an irrevocable path. She will risk everything for Jason, but Jason may not be worth that risk.

The Argonautica is more slippery than previous Greek epics. The Iliad is rife with tragedy but has a tragic granduer. The Odyssey gives us a flawed hero but also justice and catharsis at its conclusion. The Odyssey also gives us a wise and virtuous heroine in Penelope.

Here in the Argonautica we have neither a bold hero or a virtuous heroine. Medea is sympathetic, but she is no Penelope. In many ways the story wants to see her action as selfish, though today many would not view it so. We are much more individualistic than the ancient Greeks. Medea’s actions cut her off from everyone and everything–except Jason. If Jason cannot successfully integrate her into his world, she will have no world at all. The Greeks thought that acting virtuously required a social context. For Aristotle, to be without a defined community made it impossible to realize one’s full humanity. Medea’s choices put her in danger of essentially becoming a non-person.

The postscript for Jason and Medea is a bitter one. Medea flees with Jason, and Jason agrees to marry her out of sympathy, gratitude, and in part, to keep her safe. But from the start their relationship was off balance. Medea was much more drawn to Jason than Jason to Medea, and Medea had to give up a great deal more than Jason.

Still, Jason had to give up something as well. He was the son of a king, and to marry a king’s daughter would certainly not be beneath him. But, he married Medea without her family’s consent (her father wanted Jason dead) and so his marriage would likely bring conflict to his own land even if he made it back safely. To marry without the family blessing of either side put their relationship at risk from the word ‘go.’

There is an interesting vignette in Medea’s story not in The Argonautica but in other versions of the story. On their way home, Medea has an encounter with Queen Arete, who can be compared to Penelope in terms of virtue and the best of feminine wisdom. Medea asks Arete for advice, and Arete tells her to leave her history of magic, spells, and sorcery behind, especially when it comes to her relationship with Jason. In the end, Medea will not follow this advice. In a classic instance of particularly Greek irony, her use of magic to keep Jason attached to her only ends up driving her away. Jason and Medea eventually have children (the number varies according to the source), but in the end, Jason divorces Medea. To make sure that Jason will have no heirs and no legacy, Medea murders his new bride and her own children as well.

The original readers knew all of this lore, and all of adds extra weight to Medea’s choice to help Jason and his crew escape. Medea chose wrongly, but the tragedy of Greek literature is that choosing rightly still would have meant the deaths of Jason and his crew at the hands of Aetes, and the failure of his quest. If the quest failed, well, we have no story. Hera and Jason sacrifice Medea for their own ends, and Medea destroys her family (and even later murders her brother) to achieve her own ends as well.

Earlier this week we had fun discussing what elements a good relationship needs, such as family support, mutual attraction, similar backgrounds, and so forth. The class did not always agree about where to rank these elements in their order of importance, but it became obvious that Jason and Medea had very little to build on and much working against them. In their favor, we can note their mutual attraction for one another, and the fact that both came from royal families. Against them, we can list:

Neither had the blessing of their families
Their “relationship” was formed very quickly in a very intense situation
Jason owed far more to Medea than Medea owed to Jason.
Conversely, after her betrayal Medea depended entirely on Jason for her protection and status. She uses this at times to guilt Jason into marrying her.
They had very different experiences growing up
Medea’s service to Hecate made Jason suspicious of her, while at the same time, her powers were needed at crucial moments to save Jason and the crew.
They forced enormous stress from the very start of their attraction for one another.

It is easy to see that Jason and Medea had little chance for a successful future together.

In the end, everyone may or may not be playing everyone else, and this quest does not give us the catharsis that we hope for. This is what makes The Argonautica a late-civilization epic, and why we can compare Jason’s character to the context of Machiavelli’s The Prince, which we are also reading this year.

Dave

8th Grade Literature: The Dog Days

Dec12 by Dave Mathwin

One of the advantages of reading ancient texts is that they expose us to an unfamiliar world with an unfamiliar way of thinking. But for us to appreciate this we sometimes need to look behind some of the archaic or strange phrases we encounter to help the story make sense. After we get a sense of the story’s meaning, we can then consider its application for us today.

At a few different points in the story the narrator compares Jason’s attractiveness to the star Sirius. This star appeared close to the sun betweeen July 3-August 11, the so called “dog days” of summer. The Sirius star is the brightest sun in the constellation Canis Major (hence the term “dog days”). Some surmise that the ancients believed that the closeness of this bright star added to the heat of the sun, intensifying all things about what summer brings.

We can perhaps easily understand why human beauty would be linked with that of a star. The brightness of Sirius stands out above all other stars in the sky, just as when we notice that special someone across the room, all others fade from view. But in comparing Jason to Sirius in particular, Apollonius gave a foreshadowing hint that his audience in AD 300 would have understood immediately in a way we do not.

The ancient Greeks valued temperance and finding a mean between extremes. Cold and heat both bring good things, but the extremes of both are destructive. Excessive heat brings destruction to crops and to the soul. We know that on hot days, for example, crime increases. Our tendency towards anger and lethargy increases with extreme heat.

Romantic feelings are also associated with heat, but it is Spring, not Summer, that we associate with romance. Summer brings excess, and this foreshadows the destructive relationship Jason will end up having with Medea. The brightness of Sirius is a foreboding brightness. Too much light can harm just as much, or perhaps even more, as too much darkness.

But there is a flip side to the dog associations Apollonius foists upon Jason, and this subtlety helps makes The Argonautica literature worthy of our attention

Dogs had a dual place in ancient and traditional socieities (something we have touched on regarding Roland in this post). To recap briefly, dogs are, on the one hand,

Linked with false prophets and unrestrained appetite

but on the other,

Associated with obedience, humility and protection.

As noted previously, Jason does not exercise typical heroic leadership. He is not an unstoppable warrior like Achilles. He does not lead from the front like Roland, or possess the single-minded brilliance of Captain Nemo. Jason does show great concern for his men. He is a guardian, of sorts, for his crew, and this fits with how dogs were viewed in the Roman empire. We see here two Lares on a coin, and you can see the dog form:

Here is a later image, where they take a more distinctly human form:

So this connects positively to Jason’s leadership, and Apollonius includes this imagery to let you know of Jason’s strengths.

But dogs in the ancient world were never quite fully domestic creatures as we are used to today. They guarded borders, but would not have been brought inside the home. But Jason is the son of a king, and he should be king himself, were it not for his usurping uncle. Throughout the story, however, Jason rarely seems comfortable as a leader. He hangs back, he worries, he has insecurities. Initially his crew thought Hercules should lead. In one instance, he decides to leave an island at night because of a fair wind, but everyone knows that we have bad associations with night because of the confusion it can bring. Sure enough, Jason ends up leaving Hercules behind by mistake, and turning a ship around in the ancient world to row against the wind is basically impossible. In another instance, friendly hosts mistake Jason and his crew for invaders (again, this happens at night), and Jason accidentally kills the host king. When it comes time to box the brutish Amycus to allow them to leave his island peacefully, it is not Jason that steps forward, but another crew member.

Those who know the full story of Jason (which we will discuss at the conclusion of the Argonautica) understand that Jason will continually feel trapped and pressed by circumstances, and not able to transcend them. He never attains the greatness associated with other Greek heroes.

All this is wrapped up in Apollonius’ references to him as Sirius, the dog star, which many in the ancient world feared to see.

8th Grade Civics: Value Propositions

Dec12 by Dave Mathwin

This week we looked at a debate about immigration to highlight a crucial skill Aristotle wishes to teach us, a skill democracies are prone to lack. As we saw last week, advocates of different political ideologies or platforms tend to absolutize the values their position highlights, while forgetting that their position inevitably fails to cover every conceivable value. We are finite creatures, and our values are finite, in the sense that every gain/advance will come at a cost. We have to leave something behind.

This is experientially true. If you want to get married and have a family, you have to sacrifice the fun of dating and meeting other people. If you have children, you have to leave behind the life of doing what you like and disposable income. You can certainly argue that married life with a family is a better choice than a life of perpetual dating. But worst of all would be the person who tried to have both at once. The married person who also wanted to date other people would wreak a great deal of havoc. The perpetual dater might simply provoke raised eyebrows.

Theologically this rings true as well, i.e., “Except a seed fall to the ground and die, it remains only a single seed; but if it dies, it produces much fruit” (John 12:24). If we are to have life, either spiritually or physically, we must have death, whether that be physical death (the food we eat) or the death of a way of life (giving up a life of dating for marriage).

When faced with a controversial and thorny political issue such as immigration, I wanted the students to use Aristotle’s template to do the following:

See the strengths of each side of the argument
Understand the costs/what you have to sacrifice to achieve your aim
Discern that the debate was not about good values vs. bad values, but involved deciding which kinds of values to prioritize over other values.

The debate we viewed can be seen here:

Both speakers made good arguments, but I wanted the students to see the key underlying assumptions each side brought to the debate. How we view those key assumptions will likely determine what side we favor.

Not everyone loves argument by analogies, but I think analogies have a lot of power to distill key principles of an argument.

The “Pro” side of the debate (Prof. Kaplan) argues that people should be able to travel freely to seek out the best life for themselves they possibly can. He uses the analogy of a house and guest in the following manner:

Kaplan declares that he is not arguing that whomever wishes should be able to come to his house if he does not want them in his house.
If he wants someone to come in his house, and that someone wants to come, he should be allowed to come to Kaplan’s house. True, his neighbor might disapprove, but what business is it of theirs anyway?
He asserts that the “Con” side of the debate essentially argues that people should not have the freedom to extend invitations to people to come over to their house, and that those invited should not have the freedom to accept. This is absurd.

The “Con” side of the debate (Prof. Wellman) also uses the illustration of a house, but with a different emphasis from Kaplan:

He asks us to imagine that he leaves his house and goes to a conference for a week. When he returns, he asks his wife what she did while he was gone. She replied that she played cards with friends, got her hair done, and volunteered. Wellman implies that it would be absurd for him to object to such activities.
But, his wife then adds, I also decided to adopt a child from a foreign country. Here he is–meet your new son! Wellman declares that he would have every right to object to this action. His wife’s “freedom of association” has dramatically impacted his own freedom of association without his consent.

There are some deeper foundations to the arguments from both sides.

Kaplan, a libertarian, seems to believe in two key principles. The first is that the individual is the primary unit of society, and so our laws should be oriented around maximizing individual freedom. Secondly, libertarians tend to believe that maximizing economic freedom (which includes the free movement of labor) is a primary way to boost freedom overall. Economic growth is a moral issue, for greater economic growth means a better life for more people, especially those on the border between the lower and middle classes. So, in his analogy of the house, the homeowner is an employer and the guest is a potential worker.

I am not sure of the philosophical background of Wellman, but he argues that the group (though perhaps not necessarily the family, a la Aristotle) is the primary political decision making unit. Decisions that involve altering the makeup of a household/political community should be made by the community as a whole (or their representatives). In his “house” analogy he envisions a family rather than an employer.

Both analogies are persuasive, and both have their limits. Kaplan’s analogy doesn’t work as well when the guest wants to blast heavy metal music out of his window, which would obviously adversely affect the community. Wellman’s analogy makes perfect sense when comparing adoption to citizenship. But what if his wife just invited a friend over for coffee (maybe similar to a temporary work visa)? Hypothetically Wellman might still object to associating with his wife’s friend, but in that case our sympathies go to his wife. We would expect Wellman to bear up with the “incovenience” of the temporary association.

Deciding between these two positions boils down to the key divide between seeing the group/family or the individual as the primary political unit of society. Kaplan is suspicious of governments exercising authority over the individual, and Wellman much less so.

Hopefully, the students will see how their beliefs about these key “fork in the road” questions influence their position on immigration, whatever that might be.

Have a great weekend,

Dave

8th Grade Civics: Aristotle and the Problem of the Good

Dec5 by Dave Mathwin

This week we continued to look at Aristotle thoughts on how societies actually function and the downstream effects of how we make decisions.

Democracies foster freedom, which we appreciate. This freedom inevitably produces disagreements, but we expect this and factor it into our society and politics. But Aristotle wants to see what it is we disagree about, why we disagree, and whether or not we are aware of what this means.

In Book III of his Politics Aristotle writes,

Who shall govern when different groups within a state seek power? Suppose, for example, that we want only the “good” to govern—that is, those who live best and possess the best abilities– no matter their number [that is–if they are the majority or a small minority]. It is always best for the good to govern, but if within a state, there exists no common method of determining who is “good” [i.e., no common moral or religious criteria to decide] then such a method is not open to the populace.

Criteria are necessary. If oligarchies wish to make the “good” those with a sufficient amount of wealth, or proper birth, then such a claim can be understood by all. But not all will agree with the criteria.

How can even expediency agree with such a view? If we say that birth or wealth confer the right to rule, what about those with better birth, or more wealth? In only a short time, then, will such a system descend into the rule of one man.

But those who favor the rule of the many [democracy] have similar problems. Should the many rule simply because they are more numerous? We have seen, however, that the “good” are in short supply. If we give rule to the many because they are stronger than the few, or simply more numerous, we are logically driven to conclude that where one man or one group is stronger than another, they should have more power than others. But neither would we want what is best to be determined by mere counting.

All of this shows that neither birth, nor wealth, nor mere numbers, are the proper principle from which to govern a state.

Aristotle begins by making the obvious assertion that every society should want those that are “good” in power making decisions for us. We would naturally want those who are wise, just, intelligent, and so forth to govern. The problem arises when we have no concrete, agreed upon method for determining what wisdom and justice mean. For example, does one gain wisdom through growing up poor in an isolated rural area, or by growing up wealthier in an urban area and traveling the world, attending great schools, and so forth? We could say that both paths could or could not produce wisdom. But this wouldn’t help us unless we know how to choose between the two kinds of wisdom when presented to us. Likely, most would disagree about that question.

In absence of any concrete criteria about the more important metaphysical questions, societies turn to something more measurable, such as birth, wealth, or in the case of democracies, numbers. This has the advantage of being obvious and measurable, i.e., “Everyone from one of these 10 families can govern, or everyone with ‘x’ amount of money can govern. In the case of democracies, those with the majority of votes can govern. This can eliminate disagreement about who gets to rule, but as Aristotle points, out this gets us nowhere towards discovering “the good.” Ultimately, societies that disagree about the nature of ultimate “goods” will eventually, most likely, either devolve into factional principalities, or require force to hold everything together via force and centralization of power.

As mentioned, democracies give a great deal of freedom to its people to form their own conclusions and give them rights that they may express their opinions freely. In fact, one can argue that democratic societies almost encourage disagreement. This solves and creates problems all at once.

We discussed in class that we have problems as a society not so much because one side is good and the other is bad, but because we fail to agree how to properly order different virtues. We used the following example:

Imagine that you have a group of 100 people living in the wilderness. Other groups of people live around you, some are hostile, some are friendly, some could go either way. You built walls around your enclosure to protect your group and to give them a defined place to call home.

One night Tom and Bill are charged with guarding the walls and the gate of entrance. At the gate a man knocks. You don’t know him, but he appears hurt and sick. Do you let him in?

Tom thinks not. You are not sure about this man. He could be a spy, he could be faking, he could be dangerous, he could even be an assassin. Your primary duty is to protect the people behind the walls. Tom’s heart strings are tugged, but he steels himself to his primary duty of protecting those behind him.

Bill wants to let him in. The man seems to be strong and skilled. If we help him, he could help us and strengthen our community. Besides, we have a duty to care for those in need that goes above our duty to defend the walls.

The question should not be, “Who is the bad one, Tom or Bill?” Both Tom and Bill have good values and want to do good things. The question instead should be, “Who wants what is best in this circumstance?”

If Tom and Bill (symbolic stand ins for the community at large) actually instead agreed either to let him in or not, you have a cohesive society with a clear hierarchy of values. If they disagree, well, let the games begin.

We can drill down further. This decision might be context dependent. Suppose that instead of one man at the gate, there were thirty. Here the risk/reward of letting them in increases dramatically, and one can reasonably think that the risk outweighs the reward. But if we change the scenario from thirty men to one small child asking for asylum, the risks disappear, and it seems obvious that Tom and Bill should let them in (though one student objected, stating that, “No way! She could be one of those specially trained child assassins! :).

But even as the decision becomes context dependent, one still needs an agreed upon hierarchy of values to ensure a stable society. Without this, Aristotle suggests, you will need to be guided by concrete criteria that will solve the surface level problem. But, while an individual or a society can bury the metaphysical issue for a time, it will return. When it does, such questions will demand an answer.

8th Grade Literature: Back to the Front

Dec5 by Dave Mathwin

This week we started our next book, The Argonautica, sometimes called Jason and the Argonauts. The story involves a sea journey with a motley assorted band of travelers in search of the famous golden fleece. The story contains a variety of tropes common in all epic literature, but the author, Appolonius oF Rhodes, adds a unique twist to the story that sets this text apart from other Greek epics, one that dovetails nicely with some of the questions we explore in civics class.

All stories of epic heroes inevtiably look to interpret the past. The hero has already done his work and lived on in the minds of men. The author then celebrates the hero and his accomplishments. The hero may be a complicated figure, but his mission and his impact is not. Epics usually are about the founding of a city/civilization, (The Aeneid) or the re-founding, or transition between two epochs (like The Lord of the Rings, or perhaps The Iliad and The Odyssey).*

But The Argonautica, written around AD 300, is not like this. The author has a different agenda, which perhaps comes from his different political and historical context.

Right in the beginning of the story, we notice some odd things for a heroic epic:

The crowd that gathers to see the crew off on their adventure are not cheering, but crying and wailing for those they fear never to see again.
The men of the ship do not pick Jason to lead them, but Hercules. Hercules defers to Jason, but the choice of Jason as the leader was made by him, not the crew.
Right after the ship leaves the harbor, we see Jason full of doubt, not confidence. His doubt is immediately contrasted with the swagger of a another crewmember.

Apolloinius wants us to wonder about the nature of Jason’s heroism, or perhaps even question it entirely, again, an odd way to begin an epic poem about a famous hero.

The first known written Greek epic poem was very likely the Iliad, which dates to somewhere around 800 BC. But the story of Jason chronologically predates Homer and the events of the Trojan War (in one scene we see the crew waving to the infant Achilles, for example). Homer wrote in the context of the end of the Bronze Age/Greek Dark Ages and the beginning of the city-state era. Thus, he could look back wistfully in part because he could look forward with hope.

But Apollonius writes in the midst of a free-fall decline of the civilization he inhabited. The third century AD saw Rome continuously involved in civil wars. The Roman Emperor at the time Apollonius wrote was Diocletian (reigned 284-305 AD). Diocletian at least understood the crisis, and did attempt to hold back the tide of Rome’s cultural collapse. Unfortunately, his most significant attempt to restore Rome involved an all-out persecution of Christians, which had the unintended effect of hastening Rome’s demise.

We have no idea what the story of Jason entailed originally. We can guess how Apollonius reinterprets the tale, as he has Jason faced with a serious of impossible choices. Unlike other epic heroes, Jason seems to have limited agency over events. His actions seem scripted for him. At his best, Jason finds a way to negotiate his way out of difficulty. This is certainly an important political skill, but it may not be “heroic.” Jason’s world mirrors that of Apollonius’ world in certain respects. The best one can hope for is to kick the can, and hope that maybe things will turn out ok in the end.

In this structure we see the tragic dimension of much of Greek literature. GK Chesterton may have said it best, when he wrote that,

It is said that Paganism is a religion of joy and Christianity of sorrow; it would be just as easy to prove that Paganism is pure sorrow and Christianity pure joy.

Such conflicts mean nothing and lead nowhere. Everything human must have in it both joy and sorrow; the only matter of interest is the manner in which the two things are balanced or divided.

And the really interesting thing is this, that the pagan was (in the main) happier and happier as he approached the earth, but sadder and sadder as he approached the heavens. The gaiety of the best Paganism, as in the playfulness of Catullus or Theocritus, is, indeed, an eternal gaiety never to be forgotten by a grateful humanity.

But it is all a gaiety about the facts of life, not about its origin. To the pagan the small things are as sweet as the small brooks breaking out of the mountain; but the broad things are as bitter as the sea. When the pagan looks at the very core of the cosmos he is struck cold. Behind the gods, who are merely despotic, sit the fates, who are deadly. Nay, the fates are worse than deadly; they are dead.

*Tolkien wrote his great work in the years right after World War II.

8th Grade Civics: Aristotle on justice and Justice

Nov14 by Dave Mathwin

We tend to think of “Justice” almost exclusively in terms of the proper punishment of bad behavior. If someone robs a bank, we say that justice is done if he is caught and sent to prison. If someone is wrongfully accused, we declare that justice is done when the judge dismisses the case.

The ancient world, however, had a broader conception of the word “justice,” using it to describe all things being rightly ordered in one’s life and in the life of the body politic. A rightly ordered world might involve things that are directly moral, or sinful. So, for example, having one’s bed could be a portion of having a “just” house, but not making the bed would not necessarily be a sin. It would however, be a defect.

We see this use of justice in Old Testament frequently, such as in Psalm 54, which reads, “O God save me in thy name, and judge me in thy strength.” Here the psalmist is not asking God to punish him for his sins–far from it. Rather, God’s judgment and His salvation are one in the same. The psalmist is asking God to rightly order his being, to put him back together again appropriately, which would involve much more than overt sin.

Aristotle noted long ago that different forms of government have different forms of justice which both make sense and are incomplete all at once. He writes,

What are the oligarchic and democratic ideas of justice? Both sides have part of justice on their side, and both sides fail to express justice in its fullness.

In democracies justice means equality, especially in the distribution of political power. That is, political power should be put in the hands of as wide a range of people as possible. A poor man, for example, holding power with no experience or education, is considered a triumph. This creates, in their view, a stable state where everyone feels included, and this is “justice.”

In oligarchies, inequality in the distribution of power is considered just. If people are not equal in wisdom, education, wealth, and the like, they should not have an equal share of political power. This helps the state have rulers that are best able to govern. In turn, a well governed, stable state will be “just.”

The advocates of democracy and oligarchy both make erroneous judgments. Democrats hold that if men are equal in basic humanity, they should be equal in the distribution of power and property. Oligarchs hold that if men are not equal in talent, wisdom, and skill they should not be equal in most anything else.

True justice means that those who have contributed to the proper end [it’s reason for being] of the state, should have rights, property, and power in proportion to that contribution. For that reason, all must pay attention to the “goal” of the state in which one lives.

Aristotl’e ideas might seem confusing, but if we break the concepts down into something smaller and more in line with our experience, it might make more sense.

Imagine a family has three sons, Bob (18), Joe (12), and Sam (6). One evening the mom discovers that the she has three Oreo cookies left in the pantry. What would be just, and most likely to lead to a harmonious order within the family. Most would probably suggest that here the focus should be on pure equality, i.e., each son gets one cookie each.

But imagine now that the mom has three different sized pieces of steak, small, medium, and large. Most would likely not argue that justice requires them to cut up all the steaks and give each the same amount. Here most would lean towards something along the lines of the oldest getting the biggest steak, the youngest the smallest, and so on. To be sure, this is still “equality,” but it manifests itself differently here. If the family also had a 6 month old son, no one would suggest that justice demands he should get steak, as his stomach could not even digest it properly.

Parents usually treat their children differently when it comes to bedtimes, to the great annoyance of the younger siblings. Most, however, intuit that it would not be just to have all three go to bed at the same time. Here the context differs, and the meaning of justice would differ as well.

Ideally a state will have a degree of flexibility around their concept of justice, allowing for context to have its say. But as Aristotle suggests, what direction a society leans toward will depend on what that society values as its purpose or goal. For example, if you live in a society that believes that age should be respected above all else, you would defer decisions to the elderly, and you would give them the best seat at the table, and so forth. This is not equality, but it is justice according to one’s guiding principles.

An example more close to home comes from Elaine Calabro’s article in The Atlantic about Canada’s practice of MAiD, or “Medical Assistance in Dying.” The practice has grown from allowing euthanasia only in cases of advanced terminal illness, to those who simply want to avoid suffering. Calabro writes, “At the center of the world’s fastest growing euthanasia regime is the concept of patient autonomy. Honoring a patient’s wishes is of course a core value in medicine. But here it has become paramount.” Some physicians express moral or practical objections, but most who work in the industry find their work meaningful. As one physician noted regarding his work in assisted suicides, “We’re so happy [the patient] got what they wanted.” Given the basic values that created the practice, its expansion was “inevitable” according to the author.

Here we can note that a core value, i.e, people fulfill their purpose by achieving their desires, which drives much of economy, politics, etc. has simply morphed into the medical and ethical field. Hence, “Justice” in this case means giving people their autonomy, their say, in the most important life decisions. One can easily see how various other democratic practices and ideals come from this same source. This shows how one particular view of justice works in some areas (we should pick our political leaders, and pick what we want for desert)* might not work in other areas of life. We have already seen how parents use different views of justice depending on context in family life, and this is a good argument for its application to political life.

But which form of justice should be used when, and why? This is at the core of many of our current political disagreements. Aristotle also hints at the fact that these “justices” must somehow be connected to Justice in some final sense. Without agreement on Justice, we will struggles with our mini justices.

Dave

*I have a variety of friends who have traveled in Europe, and especially as one moves south and east (Italy, Greece, etc.) they notice that when going to a restaurant, often the proprietor will size you up and tell you what you will have. If you object and point to the menu, saying, “I was hoping for some lamb instead of the pork,” you will simply be told that “There is no lamb, only pork.” Eventually you agree to “submit” or leave the restaurant.This shows a different culture around food, but also a different culture around authority, tradition, the individual, and so on.

8th Grade Literature: Just the Facts

Nov7 by Dave Mathwin

As the story continues and the characters spend more time in the Nautilus, students noted that many of the chapters contain boring lists of different plants and fish they see under the waves. This may surprise those who remember certain iconic moments in the story, such as the attack of the squid and the Nautilus’ attacks of other ships. But many chapters do contain lists of fish and other technical details of undersea life and life at sea.

These portions of the story do not resonate with me very much, and I have sympathy with the student’s reactions. But such portions of the story also give us an opportunity to gain insights into the mind of the author and the times in which he wrote.

We can first note that the story was originally published in installments in a bi-monthly periodical. It is possible that Verne includes such detail merely to lengthen his story and get paid more for publishing more. But the story was a smash hit when it debuted in 1870, and we should surmise that while financial gain may have played a part in this narrative choice, it cannot entirely explain it.

When we get incrongruity between our time and the past, this gives us an opportunity to notice how cultures change over time and what that reveals not just about them, but us as well.

Verne published his book at a time when people generally had

Faith that the future would be better than the past, and
Trust that science, and the increase of knowledge that science would bring, would be the main cause of that progress.

Captain Nemo is a bit of a superior type, and frequently in the story we see him correcting various views held by the enlightened and gentlemanly Prof. Arronax. Nemo’s travels and knowledge give him “the truth” about various historical and especially naval events. The reading public likely heavily bought into the common cutural narrative about the connections between knowledge, power, and progress. The facts obtained by the Professor about the nature of undersea life would likely have been viewed in 1870 not as random data points but priceless treasures that could help mankind advance.

The fact that these sections of the book fall on deaf ears in our day says much about us as well. The 20th century revealed that the power that comes with science has revealed itself as a double-edged sword. The knowledge that can heal us can just as easily be used to destroy us. The cataclysmic conflicts of WW I and WW II taught us this, as did Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

But we also no longer trust science as a discipline. Our trust in institutions in general has eroded, which has led to many over the last several years calling into question various things that science was supposed to have settled for us. On the other side of the 20th century, science has lost its charm and its persuasive hold on the culture at large.

One might say that Verne wrote at the “high noon” of the West’s trust in science. At the beginning, trust in science might have needed explained. At the end of an era, science would need defended. Here, in our story, the trust placed in science by all characters is implicit. They are fish who do not know they swim in water.

The embedding of the story in a sea of facts perhaps helps us focus more intently on the main character of the story, the mysterious Captain Nemo.

The other main characters are somewhat stock. They do not change and the character is easily defined.

The Professor wants to learn and discover new things
Conseil (the Professor’s servant) wants to obey his master and classify the Professor’s observations
Ned wants to hunt and eat. At different times in the story, he also wants his freedom.

Captain Nemo is more complex, but Verne also wrote his most famous character after a type, the “Byronic Hero,” named after Lord Byron. Byronic heroes have the following characteristics:

They are socially isolated by their own choice
They have suffered some great, unkown tragedy that has marked them for life
They are intelligent and arrogant
They are highly emotional, and given to violent outbursts of temper
He has significant personality flaws and knows it, making him a “tortured soul.”

The story makes no attempt to explain Captain Nemo’s origin. We can reasonably surmise it involves the death of his family, but otherwise we have only scattered hints. Verne did well to leave Nemo as a sketch instead of a finished portrait. It is the mystery of Nemo, and the questions we have about his actions, that make the story compelling. It says something of our age at least, and perhaps of humanity in general, that we prefer mystery to fact.

Have a great weekend,

Dave

8th Grade Civics: Machiavelli, Watergate, and Getting Good at Being Bad(?)

Oct31 by Dave Mathwin

Greetings Everyone,

This week we continued our look at Machiavelli, and paired up chapter 8 of The Prince with the presidency of Richard Nixon.

Nixon is best known for the Watergate scandal that led to his resignation during his second term in 1974. This is a fair verdict of history. However, we do well to remember that Nixon had a variety of foreign policy successes during his tenure, such as

Initiating a policy of detente, and the SALT treaties signed with the Soviet Union which contributed to easing the nuclear arms race.
Assisting in peace negotiations between Israeal and other Arab nations duirng the Yom Kippur War of 1973.
His historic overture to China and our opening of diplomatic relations. While we may wonder today at the ultimate legacy of our shift in China policy over the last 50 years, at the time it was a revolutionary move that likely helped hasten the end of the Cold War.

Domestically, Nixon had several initiatives that may surprise some who know him only through the prism of Watergate:

He started several new government agencies, such as the EPA, OSHA, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration
He took the US economy off of the gold standard
He reshaped financial policy by creating the Office of Management and Budget*
He passed the Clean Water Act

Some of these policies were popular, some not, but we cannot question that for a time he was an effective political leader and easily won reelection in 1972. But the Watergate scandal, and Nixon’s actions during the scandal, unraveled everything very quickly, and we should consider why this was the case. For that, we turned to Machiavelli’s insights about rulers who exercise “villainy.”

Machiavelli begins chapter eight of The Prince discussing two infamous rulers, and begins with Agathocles of Sicily, writing,

The son of a potter, he led a life of the utmost wickedness through all the stages of his fortune. Nevertheless, his wickedness was accompanied by such vigor of mind and body, that having joined the miltia, he rose through its grades to become praetor of Syracuse. . . . He [then] called together the people and Senate of the city, having imparted his design to fight Hamilcar the Carthaginian, . . . at a given signal had the senators and all the rich men of the city murdered, [eliminating all who could oppose him]. . . . And although he was twice beaten by Carthage and ultimately beseiged, he was able not only to defend the city, . . . but also [expand its territory into Africa] and [eventually] brought the Carthiginians to terms. In the end, he maintained his position as prince by many courageous and perilous expedients.

It cannot be called virtue to kill one’s fellow citizens, betray one’s friends, be without faith or pity, and without religion, by which methods one may indeed gain an empire but not glory.

Machiavelli goes on to cite the example of someone contemporary to his own day, who used many of the same methods as Agathocles. Later in the chapter, he continues,

Some may wonder how it came about that Agathocles, and others like him, could, after infinite treachery and crueltry, live secure for many years in their country without being conspired against by their subjects; although many others have, through their cruelty, been unable to maintain their position in times of peace, to say nothing of the uncertain times of war.

Machiavelli then answers his query, writing,

I believe this arises from the cruelties being used well or badly. “Well” used may be called those (if it is permissable to use the word of evil) which are committed once for the need of securing oneself, and which afterwards are not persisted in, but which are exchanged for methods as useful to the citizens as possible. Cruelties ill used are those which , although at first few, increase rather than diminish with time. Those who follow the former method may remedy in some measure their condition with God and man, as did Agathocles. As to the others, it is impossible for them to maintain themselves. . . . a conqueror must arrange to have all his cruelties come at once, so as not to have to resort to them every day . . .

We can first note that almost no political leader follows his advice, and indeed, in a democratic system, following his advice (supposing that one should do so, a different question entirely) becomes almost impossible. To get elected, one must promise good things, and certainly not state that one will begin their term by doing various evil deeds. To get elected, one must at least give the appearance of either a) healing the harms done by the previous leader, or b) prevent the harms that the challenger will introduce should they be elected.

The elected leader usually then enjoys a honeymoon period, an era of good feelings, where people assume the best and enjoy the change. Then, later, when the leader makes missteps, they are judged harshly for them. Among other things, these missteps go against the grain of their earlier cultivated image.

For presidents that serve two terms, the second term usually brings crisis and controversy. Truman’s second term had the Korean War, Johnson’s second term had violence in cities and the escalation in Vietnam. Nixon had Watergate, and Reagan the Iran-Contra scandal. Clinton had the Monica Lewinsky scandal and impeachment. Bush had to face increasing difficulties and costs in Iraq, as well as the financial crash of ’08. The good feelings engendered by Obama in his first term disappeared during his second. There appears little escape from this pattern.

Perhaps one problem modern political leaders have is that they have little chance to exercise physical courage in any direct way. This limits their chances to win the favor of the people and renew their mandate, so to speak. Agathocles, for example, didn’t just take political risks that paid off, he regularly risked his own life.

Crtics of Machiavelli assert that he encouraged rulers to do evil things, or at least, gave them a pathway for doing so. This is possible, but I think we have to think more deeply about his words. Machiavelli does not say one can be a great ruler by doing evil, but q successful one. There is a difference. If one regards politics as an inevitably dirty business, then one needs to be aware of how to use the dirt. The divide, I think comes between those who think the dirt cannot be avoided, and those who think that it can. Machiavelli would tell us that the problem with modern leadership is not the dirt on their hands, but that they tell us that their hands are clean.

Dave

*I would suggest that the “throughline” for understanding both his foreign policy successes, his domestic policy initiatives, and the Watergate scandal is that of control. Nixon was not process oriented but idea oriented. He was suspicious of collaboration and had a hard time trusting others. He believed he was the one who best control events and outcomes. So, taking the economy off the gold standard gave the Fed more control over the economy, his budget reorganization put more power into the executive branch, and perhaps he created other federal agencies to extend executive power even in areas traditionally not managed by government. As for Watergate, rather than come clean at first and accept minor damage, he believed he could control the messaging and prevent problematic fallout. His miscalculation on this (in addition to his actual obstruction of justice) led to his demise.

A Culture of Victory, a Culture of Collapse

Oct24 by Dave Mathwin

The evaluations of the historically minded often move like a pendulum. I see this throughout my own life. Initially, like everyone, I thought Napoleon a great genius. But then you think again . . . after all, he lost. And what about what happened in Egypt, to say nothing of Russia? And what of all those armies he beat from 1799-1809–nothing more than decrepit, out-dated Enlightenment entities destined for the trash-heap anyway.

After a while, however, I thought again and gave credit where due. Sure, his armies were the perfect foil for the Austrians and Prussians, but he helped create the French army that formed that perfect foil. Like any great leader he imprinted himself all over his army. And we say that the armies he faced were bound for trash-heap only with the benefit of hindsight. Napoleon put them there, after all.

But . . . he lost.

Writing about The Civil War comes with similar pitfalls. As the states began to come together in the Progressive Era (ca. 1880-1920) we looked for unity and healing from our past, and we lionized Lee as a romantically doomed warrior, who nevertheless, performed heroic feats. Lee’s generalship for that era stood second to none. Beginning in the 1960’s historians swung the narrative. They focused on Lee’s irascible temper, his huge losses, his weak opponents, his strategic failures at Antietam, Gettysburg, and so on.

Joseph Glatthar’s excellent General Lee’s Army brings balance back to this narrative. He studies the army of Northern Virginia in depth and concludes that of course, Lee was a great commander. He helped forge a great army with a great record in the field. He deserves much of the credit he receives.

But . . . he lost, and we do well to remember this. Lee’s ultimate defeat may well have had something to do with Lee, and the army he commanded.

Glathaar shows us how the strengths and weaknesses of Lee and his army come from the same place by looking at culture, demographics, the life of the common solider, and those directly under Lee’s command.

We do have to take into account Lee’s frequent opponent, the Union’s Army of the Potomac. From a pure match-up standpoint, it would have been interesting to have Lee, Longstreet, and Jackson oppose Grant, Sherman, and Thomas for the duration of the conflict. As it happened Lee only faced Grant towards the end of the war, and then Grant had to work with the Army of the Potomac, where he inherited a completely different, and vastly inferior, operational and command culture than what he worked with out west.

In A Savage War, the authors point out that the Army of the Potomac inherited a disproportionate number of soldiers recently graduated from West Point. A West Point education tended at that time to over-emphasize math, engineering, and organization (something that U.S. Grant lamented in his memoirs). Such skills have their place, but should not have pride of place in officer training. Those that drank from the firehose of this approach would inevitably give way to excessive caution. Meticulous organization takes a lot of time. In addition, once you have built something so “pure” and pretty, one might not wish to do anything that might get it dirty. This helps explain why McClellan (tops in his class at West Point) could think himself a great general even though he couldn’t actually win a battle. He was excellent in doing what his education, at least in the narrow sense, trained him to do.

The plodding, rigidly organized Army of the Potomac gave Lee and his men a perfect target given their particular strengths.

Glaathar points out that the men in Lee’s army fully believed in their cause and came with the strongest of motivations. Ante-bellum southern society had the duel influences of the aristocratic planter and the Appalachian border-settlers. Both of these cultures emphasized honor and courage. Both of these cultures preached a vision of manliness that gave way to no one. Letters home from top officers on down the ranks show a constant desire for combat and to prove themselves.

Lee both understood and embodied this himself. Many other accounts of his generalship focus on his ability to psychologically assess his opposite number on the Union side and devise the proper approach accordingly. Glaathar adds to this, showing how Lee knew how to use his men expertly. They proved superlative in the counter-attack, and could march quickly and fight hard back-to-back. We see this at Bull Run, in Jackson’s Shenandoah campaign, and at Chancellorsville, as at other times.

But both the aristocratic planter and border settler culture had its weaknesses, and these too had a significant impact on the war.

Organization:

Appalachian border culture emphasized freedom of initiative and eschewed “systems” like tight and itchy collars. Lack of formal structure gives one great freedom. But an army of tens of thousands needs tight organization to act as a unit. Without this organization, large scale offensives could never be undertaken.

Discipline:

Many in the south seceded because they did not want to be told what to do by anyone they did not like or respect. They tended to run hot and cold alternatively. Sure enough, Lee had a hard time enforcing discipline. We hear a lot about Union armies looting in the South, but Lee’s army at times looted the Virginia countryside for supplies, stole from the bodies of dead Union soldiers,** and had a hard time maintaining equipment. Many went AWOL unexpectedly not necessarily out of cowardice but because “they felt like it.”

Honor and Ego:

The aristocratic nature of the army came through in the upper echelon of the officers. The bickered for position and rank. At times they disobeyed directly if they felt insulted. Some at times seemed to prefer maintaining their honor to winning a battle.

All of these weaknesses would make coordinated action over a large distance difficult. Perhaps this is why Lee spread out his armies in his invasion of the north in 1863. It gave each commander more independence. But . . . when the time came for coordinated action, invariably Lee’s forces could not pull it off.

Shelby Foote wrote that, “Gettysburg was the price the South paid for having Lee command their army.” I’m guessing that he meant at least that no one is perfect. But I surmise that he meant more. The weaknesses of Lee’s army, and of much of southern culture, outed themselves at that battle. There the Confederacy fought a weaker opponent, but in ways that favored Union’s strengths. The good ground and interior lines of the Union forces at Gettysburg played right into the laps of the North’s slower, plodding, yet more bull-headed nature.^

Lee’s 1863 invasion may have been a mistake, but he intuited correctly that the South could not win a long and protracted war. He emphasized the Confederacy’s logistical shortcomings, but the army had cultural shortcomings as well. Perhaps Lee had read and recalled Tocqueville’s thoughts on aristocratic and democratic societies at war. Tocqueville comments that,

In aristocracies the military profession, being a privileged career, is held in honor even in time of peace. Men of great talents, great attainments, and great ambition embrace it; the army is in all respects on a level with the nation, and frequently above it.

We have seen, on the contrary, that among a democratic people the choicer minds of the nation are gradually drawn away from the military profession, to seek by other paths distinction, power, and especially wealth. After a long peace, and in democratic times the periods of peace are long, the army is always inferior to the country itself. In this state it is called into active service, and until war has altered it, there is danger for the country as well as for the army.

It may be remarked with surprise that in a democratic army after a long peace all the soldiers are mere boys, and all the superior officers in declining years, so that the former are wanting in experience, the latter in vigor. This is a leading cause of defeat, for the first condition of successful generalship is youth. I should not have ventured to say so if the greatest captain of modern times had not made the observation.

A long war produces upon a democratic army the same effects that a revolution produces upon a people; it breaks through regulations and allows extraordinary men to rise above the common level. Those officers whose bodies and minds have grown old in peace are removed or superannuated, or they die. In their stead a host of young men is pressing on, whose frames are already hardened, whose desires are extended and inflamed by active service. They are bent on advancement at all hazards, and perpetual advancement; they are followed by others with the same passions and desires, and after these are others, yet unlimited by aught but the size of the army. The principle of equality opens the door of ambition to all, and death provides chances for ambition. Death is constantly thinning the ranks, making vacancies, closing and opening the career of arms.

. . . An aristocratic nation that in a contest with a democratic people does not succeed in ruining the latter at the outset of the war always runs a great risk of being conquered by it.

Dave

*Interesting parallels exist between Lee and Napoleon’s armies. Both faced stiff, rigidly organized opponents. Both emphasized movement, speed, and capitalized on the energy and spirit of their men. Both had great success early, but both also suffered significant setbacks as their respective wars dragged on. Each faced manpower issues, but also, their opponents got better over time and neither Napoleon or Lee made the necessary adjustments based on the improvement in their opponents.

In fairness to the Army of the Potomac, the soldiers displayed extreme courage at Fredericksburg, and were stalwart in the defense at Gettysburg.

**Many southerners decry the actions of Sherman. Glaathar demonstrates that Lee’s army did many of the same things, albeit on a smaller, less organized scale, as Sherman’s army. And . . . they did this not just in Pennsylvania but in Virginia as well.

^Fredericksburg might serve as a good example of these qualities, with a negative outcome.

8th Grade Civics: Machiavelli Explains Vietnam

Oct24 by Dave Mathwin

This week we continued our look at the Vietnam war. The fall of South Vietnam has many causes, but given our limited time with this period, we need to try and find the “core” of why our policies and military intervention failed to prevent North Vietnam from absorbing South Vietnam.

Machiavelli’s speciality involves viewing different events through a few key principles, one of them involving how states get created and how people come to rule them.

He writes,

Those who solely by good fortune become princes from being private citizens have little trouble in rising, but much in keeping atop; they have not any difficulties on the way up, because they fly, but they have many when they reach the summit. Such are those to whom some state is given either for money or by the favour of him who bestows it; as happened to many in Greece, in the cities of Ionia and of the Hellespont, where princes were made by Darius, in order that they might hold the cities both for his security and his glory; as also were those emperors who, by the corruption of the soldiers, from being citizens came to empire. Such stand simply upon the goodwill and the fortune of him who has elevated them — two most inconstant and unstable things. Neither have they the knowledge requisite for the position; because, unless they are men of great worth and ability, it is not reasonable to expect that they should know how to command, having always lived in a private condition; besides, they cannot hold it because they have not forces which they can keep friendly and faithful.

States that rise unexpectedly, then, like all other things in nature which are born and grow rapidly, cannot have their foundations and relations with other states fixed in such a way that the first storm will not overthrow them; unless, as is said, those who unexpectedly become princes are men of so much ability that they know they have to be prepared at once to hold that which fortune has thrown into their laps, and that those foundations, which others have laid before they became princes, they must lay afterwards.

Machiavelli goes on to cite examples of men who gain power through nepotism, such as Cesare Borgia, who demonstrated enormous energy and creative drive. Borgia had the respect of some, and the fear of most. He had many successes. And yet, as Machiavelli notes, even a man of such ability as Borgia had his power eroded almost the moment his father died. If Cesare Borgia failed, we can count on almost everyone failing in some way in such a position.

We will understand Machiavelli better if we understand his terminology, especially the word “Fortune.” For example, a person might get into Harvard not because of their achievements but because of a large contribution from their parents. A king might place his favorite in charge of a conquered province, regardless of his connection to the people there or his experience. All this would be an example of Fortune at work.

Very few places in Machiavelli’s day made political decisions via elections, so his advice may seem outdated. But if by “princes” we take “rulers” more generally that will help us understand his words more clearly.

When looking at South Vietnam, we should first realize that in many ways, the state was created by “Fortune” artificially. True, the Vietnamese people had existed for centuries, and Vietnam as a region had existed for centuries. But after the French lost control of what was then called Indochina in 1954, Vietnam was partitioned into North and South Vietnam by treaty. The US had a heavy hand in making sure this happened, and we had good reasons for doing so. We wanted to stop the spread of communism, for one (the North was basically communist controlled) and we wanted to preserve the long southern coastline for shipping, trade, and other security reasons. But South Vietnam was essentially created by “Fortune” and its president, Ngo Diem, was in power at least partly due to our influence.

Machiavelli would have said that the fall of South Vietnam 1975 had a lot to do with the circumstances of its founding in 1954. It would have taken extraordinary leadership to overcome the inherent problems involved in its somewhat artificial creation. Unfortunately, President Diem displayed some of the worst characteristics of leaders created by Fortune.

To be fair to Diem, he was an intelligent man and a staunch anti-communist. He likely also held sincere Christian beliefs. He had a real desire to see South Vietnam succeed. He showed courage in the war for independence from the French, for in eschewing both communism and colonialism, he made himself vulnerable to reprisals from both parties. He wanted a democratic Vietnam, and had well thought out ideas of how to map democracy onto Vietnamese culture and history.

Having said this, many leaders created by Fortune can forget that they did not truly earn their position. This can lead them to overconfidence, which in turn leads them to isolate themselves from the populace.* Diem made several missteps, among them

He was a Catholic in a largely Buddhist part of Vietnam. Historians debate the nature of his treatment of Buddhists as democratic equals, but his policies towards them failed to connect. Eventually, he ended up cracking down on the civil liberties of Buddhists.
He held elections, but almost certainly rigged them in his favor, or at least, significantly exaggerated the extent of his winning margins.
He practiced nepotism, giving family members key governmental posts. If these family members had great ability, this could have mitigated the political cost of nepotism. As it was, his family members were corrupt and unstable. One of his brothers, for example, was a professed admirer of Hitler.

When the US finally decided to withdraw its support of Diem in 1963, a successful coup attempt happened almost immediately. But one coup can lead to another, and South Vietnam never again had a stable government. After hearing about the coup Ho Chi Minh, the leader of North Vietnam, reportedly stated that, “I can hardly believe the Americans would be so stupid.” The North Vietnamese government wrote that,

The consequences of the 1 November coup d’état will be contrary to the calculations of the US imperialists … Diệm was one of the strongest individuals resisting the people and Communism. Everything that could be done in an attempt to crush the revolution was carried out by Diệm. Diệm was one of the most competent lackeys of the US imperialists. Among the anti-Communists in South Vietnam or exiled in other countries, no one has sufficient political assets and abilities to cause others to obey. Therefore, the lackey administration cannot be stabilized. The coup d’état on 1 November 1963 will not be the last.

Indeed, this unfortunately proved prescient. South Vietnam experienced many other changes in leadership over the next several years, and no regime ever had anything like stability. In such an environment, American military efforts were akin to pouring water into a sieve. South Vietnam crumbled as the US inevitably withdrew its support, and US culture crumbled as well, with the domestic and foreign scene mirroring each other in some ways.

Dave

*The story of South Vietnam partially foreshadows what happened in Afghanistan in 2001-2020. Our invasion helped install Hamid Karzai in power, and he began his term in office with significant international acclaim and support. Based on my very limited knowledge it seems to me he was a better leader than Diem, and smarter about how he tried to unite different factions. Karzai was intelligent and courageous. In time, however, his relationship with the U.S. soured, and he was accused of corruption from different facets of the Afghan and international community. Afghanistan could not maintain the momentum of the early 2000’s, and in time the Taliban returned. This quasi-democratic interregnum lasted about 20 years, roughly the same amount of time South Vietnam existed.

8th Grade Literature: Mobilis in Mobili

Oct24 by Dave Mathwin

We continued with 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea this week and got our first introduction to Captain Nemo.

I hope that the students in the class will not only understand the events of the stories we read, but also understand the meaning of events within the story. That is, the students will hopefully learn to see how literature can entertain them but also challenge them to potentially think and see the world differently. This means learning how to read, in the sense of learning how to discern authorial intent within the text.

So, for example, the characters of Professor Arronax, Ned Land, anmd Conseil assert that the crew of the Nautilus are “pirates” multiple times after entering the vessel. Clearly, Verne means to ask the question as to whether or not Nemo should be considered among likes of Blackbeard. The story may reject this notion, but Verne introduces it to us for a reason. He wants us to entertain the possibility.

No one questions that Captain Nemo is the most important and enigmatic character of the story. The fact that Nemo has lived on in our cultural parlance, and that his character has been adopted into other stories, shows that Verne hit the mark with his creation. Before the characters formally meet Nemo, they are introduced to his motto, another clue to its importance in unlocking the meaning of the story. Around the ship the characters see the letter “N” surrounded by the words

Mobilis in Mobili

The phrase can be translated literally as “Moving in a Moving Thing,” but is better captured more colloquially as “moving within motion,” or some also suggest, “changing within change.”

Verne could be described as a writer of popular fiction, but there is a lot to unpack in this phrase as it relates to the story.

Not coincidentally, the phrase is associated with a submarine and a crew that never touches land. They are always within water, which is continuously fluid and changing its shape. So, from a metaphysical point of view, the Nautilus and her crew must always “change within change,” but this continuous flux becomes in itself a new stasis. Land represents stability, and without land, they will need to continuously adapt. This continuous adaptation still produces recognizable patterns.

This lends insight into Nemo’s later assertion that he is bound by no law other than his own. Without the stability of land, there can be no fixed law of conduct. Yet, this continuos change does produce something resembling stability within Nemo’s personality. His law resembles that of civilization, but it still stands slightly askew, and hopefully the students will see this.

The fact that Nemo’s super submarine is called the Nautilus also reveals much. The word choice has several levels of meaning:

In Greek, the word nautilus means simply, “sailor.”
The nautilus is a sea creature within a shell. It is the sole living creature whose bony structure is in fact a shell. The submarine becomes the skin of the crew, an extension of themselves.
Metaphorically, the grooves of the shell spiral downward continuously, a foreshadowing of the end of the book, as well as a metaphor for Nemo’s life. Under the sea, enclosed in the sub, there would be no natural way to measure the passage of time. Without the ability to mark time, one will be in danger of not being able to discern meaning from experience.

The Nautilus offers a kind of luxury and temporary interest for the scholar, Professor Arronax. But for the more normal Ned Land, the sub is nothing more than a prison. Here again Verne wants us to consider not only if meaning requires time, but also if meaning requires stability. Is the world Nemo built enough to sustain him psychologically and morally, or will it leave Nemo only to the whims of his moods?

We will continue to explore these questions as we get into the meat of the story in the following weeks.

Dave

8th Grade Literature: Jiro Dreams of Sushi

Oct17 by Dave Mathwin

Greetings all,

This week we mostly took a break from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea as students finished their rough drafts of their Song of Roland essays. In the syllabus I handed out at Orientation, I mentioned that we would be seeing two movies this year that fit with the themes of our particular unit. Both Old Man and the Sea and The Song of Roland have similar characters and ask some of the same questions. Both Roland and Santiago

See their life almost wholly through their job/vocation (knight and fisherman)
Dedicate themselves to their task with great courage, risking their life for their “calling.”
Avoid “thinking too much”–analysis leads to paralysis for both men. For both men, the truth of their lives comes in their actions.
Achieve greatness, but they could also both be accused of having too narrow a focus. They have to sacrifice a great deal to become who they are.

Our movie for this unit is Jiro Dreams of Sushi, a documentary about the man many believe to be the greatest sushi chef in the world. His restaurant is small, nestled in the midst of a metro train stop. But foreign dignataries have come to dine at his establishment, and there is a now such a long wait list for diners that one must call long in advance to get a seat.

The movie has a great to reccomend it. It immerses one into the world of sushi and the personality of Jiro. While obviously no documentary can explore every area of anyone’s life, one gets the sense that the film captures the essence of Jiro the man. One can admire a great deal about Jiro:

He has worked with sushi since he was a little boy. He has no real formal training and everything he knows he gleaned from his own experience.
He could have easily grown rich through various means involving franchising, promotionals, etc. but he keeps a low profile. Sure, he is reasonably well off as an individual, but one immediately senses that it is not money, but the craft that drives him.
He has a wholehearted dedication to perfection in his craft. Only a small percentage of what he and his staff make actually gets served.
Critics say the key to his success is the simplicity and purity of his dedication. He serves sushi, and only sushi. There is no music, fancy lights, or even conversation in his restaurant. Nothing is there to distract from the food.

Jiro is probably more evocative of Santiago instead of Roland, but as you can see, he shares similarities with both of them. Both Hemingway and the author of The Song of Roland have a great fondness for their main characters. But their admiration for Santiago and Roland, respectively, is not uncritical. Great literature knows how to ask questions of itself. Jiro Dreams of Sushi also has great admiration for its subject. But it would not be such an influential documentary film if the movie only involved hero worship.

A closer viewing of the film reveals the costs of Jiro’s life and achievements. Like Santiago, he seems a bit of a loner. The movie shows him visiting with friends and family, but this seems added on merely as an attempt to show him as “well rounded.” Jiro does not get that gleam in his eye from visiting family. Like Roland, his dedication to his own sense of calling leaves little room for other voices. As one restaurant critic says, no truly great chef is interested in collaboration. One senses that perhaps he should have retired some time ago and let his son take over, but this seems an impossibility for him.

My hope is that the students will notice some of these shadows around Jiro’s bright sun, and that this might help him understand what we have read so far this year.

A Stick in the Mud

A Classical-Christian History Teacher Seeks Help

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