Current-Day Literalism: The Accusation of Antinomianism Never Dies

On Papers, I write about certain tendencies in our culture that, these days, arise often from the left. I stress, however, that I've encountered many of these trends in my relatively conservative church. That is, the right bears responsibility.

Those trends include the following:

 

1. Doomsdaying: the end of times is nigh, right now, right around the corner!

 

2. Body versus spirit: the body is sinful and disgusting and utterly malleable (it can be hacked up) while the spirit--the true "I"--is noble and free and sinless.

 

3. Conflation of "know" and "believe" so that debatable claims become entirely undebatable.

 

4. Lack of context, not only for historical events but for current statements--hence Coleman Hughes's difficulty in explaining the not difficult concept of "reasonable doubt" to offended pundits.

 

5. Utopia as the immediate end goal: WE will get you into heaven (or what constitutes heaven).

 

I am adding a sixth:

 

6. Literalism.

 

The bravest woman in the universe, J.K. Rowling praised the book Lolita at one point for being a well-written masterpiece. I don't care for the book myself but lots of people enjoy books I don't care for. However, in the world of "I'm not safe until others conform," apparently a bunch of "youths" have gotten all freaked out. How dare she!

 

Kat Rosenfield from The Free Press describes these youths as "utterly confounded not just by the difference between depiction and endorsement but by the expression of any thought that contains two or more moving parts."

Rosenfield's quote reminded me of a fantastic quote from Andrew Doyle's The New Puritans:

 

Good criticism, on the other hand, is able to balance the subjectivity of personal temperament with the objectivity of professional experience. To put it another way, a critic who is offended is unlikely to offer much in the way of insight. According to Vyvyan Holland, Oscar Wilde's second son, his father's novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890), was universally condemned by critics on the basis that it was 'prurient, immoral, vicious, coarse, and crude'. When the novel was republished, Wilde added a preface as a form of rebuttal, which should be required reading for all critics today. In it, he explains that vice and virtue are simply 'materials' for artists, reminding us that the depiction of immorality is not necessarily an endorsement of such behavior. Even if it were, why should it matter? 'There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book,' Wilde proclaims. 'Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.' (my emphasis)

 

The inability to separate "that book states that/that person states that" from "how horrible is that book/person!" has a long history that likely goes back to the beginnings of speech, maybe earlier. In my research on religious concepts in early American history, I have encountered the term "antinomian" again and again and again. Although there were actual Antinomians, the terms was generally used as an attack word (rather like "fascist" these days and making that point does not mean I favor fascism). "Antinomian" was used against theologians/religious groups that apparently had a flexible morality.

 

What is so fascinating is that term had almost nothing to do with how God actually might operate.

 

So if some Calvinists argued for unconditional election, the response was "but you're letting sinners off the hook--they will carry out numerous degenerate and bad acts because they are already saved. Antinomians!" 

 

And if the Methodists argued for universal salvation, the response was "but if everyone is saved, what kind of community are you promoting? What will you end up accepting? Thin end of the wedge! Antinomians!" 

 

If one responded, "We are talking about God. Can't God save people however God wants?" the response (post-Enlightenment) would be "but God is reasonable!" 

 

And if one responded, "Why does God have to be reasonable? I mean, yes, I like the idea, but who are you to tell God what to be?" the response would be...

"Antinomian!" 

 

That is, the human condition seems to entail entire groups of people who perceive any statement not in terms of its topic, its arguments, its context, its ability to generate ideas and lead to contemplation but as a moral argument that indicates not only the future morality of the human race but the actual morality of the person who dared say it.

 

It's very hard to talk about just-stuff with people these days.

What About Religion?

 

As I mention in the longer post, I have encountered the above listed positions/behaviors at church--though, in fairness, the church of my childhood was LESS PRONE to 6. Debate without an automatic moral indictment was not unusual.

 

By the time I hit my 20s, however, I was encountering "if you said that, you must be implying that you are morally like this" alongside arguments praising relativistic emotion-laden reactions to scripture. It was all very ironic (in fairness, the Calvinists had the same difficulty resolving the tension between "proper" trained responses and idiosyncratic responses). At one point, a Sunday School teacher tutted my mother not for the content of her statement but for making it in the first place (and yes, he had a label ready).

 

As in the longer post, I address why religions have some justification for the behaviors I've listed. Regarding literalism and accusations of antinomianism, religion is to a degree focused on moral codes. My entirely personal view is that the purpose of a religion is to aid humans in getting closer to god/gods/God. The purpose of religion, in other words, is NOT to get people into heaven (and yes, one can believe in heaven and still believe that heaven is God's territory, not the territory of mortal institutions). 

 

But history is filled with many thoughtful theologians who would question my position (and theologians who would agree with me). In the nineteenth century in America especially (post-1776), religion as the training ground for citizens of a relatively free society was something of a given. Whether or not it worked--since plenty of people went on believing whatever they wanted--is debatable. But preparing people to be well-behaved social creatures was perceived as one of religion's purposes.

 

Unfortunately for religion (and current-day conversations), within that mindset, theology often becomes not what God is/does but what God OUGHT to be/do:

 

God (utopia, the "right side of history," righteousness) in our pocket.

 

I'm not a fan of that mindset. 

My point here, however, is that both the right and left (all human beings really) need to take responsibility for the tendency to equate "you pointed that out" with "that means you are morally degenerate" and desist in order for conversations to actual be about things themselves.

You know, in order for conversations to be actually interesting. 

 

Class in America: Law & Order and Matlock

Class is tied to a number of things--and will manifest itself in social orders which appear class-less from the outside as well as social orders that present themselves as class-less. To a large degree, in America, class is tied to education and profession. Education and professional choices are often manifested outwardly.

Law & Order

During a sting operation--to prove that an inspector is taking bribes--lawyer Paul (Richard Brooks) is roped in to play the part of the property owner, a sleezy slumlord. 

He borrows detective Logan's coat.  (Logan has already met the inspector, so he can't play the part.)

Neither man pauses as they exchange coats. It is assumed by both of them that the inspector will never associate a man in Paul's long wool winter coat with "slumlord." But a man wearing Logan's heavy leather coat could be one. One reason is practical. Another reason is appearance.

Interestingly enough, the same point about clothes is made in My Roommate is a Detective. Qiao belongs to a lower class than Lu Yao. They wear quite distinctive clothes, even when hanging out together in the same location. Qiao is more likely to wear heavy, durable leather coats while Lu Yao dresses in relaxed tweeds.  

Matlock

Matlock attends a class reunion at Harvard. He is greeted by his compatriots. Of course, one of them gets murdered and one is suspected, and Matlock defends the one who is suspected. 

Before accepting Matlock's help, the man ruefully admits that he "black-balled" Matlock in college from getting into a prestigious club on campus. When Matlock (who obviously already knows the answer) says, "Why did you do that?" the man replies, "You were older than us."

"I was a lot older than you," Matlock replies. "It took me nine years to work to get up there."

The other man hesitates and then says, "You were different from us, Ben."

Note that Ben's clothes are quite distinct.

Ben raises his brows, then grins and wags his head. 

He was Southern, older, unpolished, at least in speech. He gained the education, and he already had the smarts, and he adopted the profession. 

But the absence of certain things from his background associated with education and profession created class assumptions and distinctions. An ongoing joke of the show, for instance, is that Ben never gives up his Southern gentleman's light-blue suit.

Education and profession are good things and people can earn both. However, the issue here isn't merit. Quite the opposite. Logan and Paul are equally intelligent and hardworking men, and they know it. Matlock is smarter than most of his compatriots and makes just as much money. 

The difference is the sense of difference that people accrue unto themselves. I don't get bribed by that type of person. I don't spend time in a club with that guy. I deserve to be with...and this is how we dress and act and...

It is, to a degree, about self-perception, the life people create about themselves and then enforce: high school cliques, the pack, run amuck. It turns out that Affirmative Action in recent years was largely used NOT to help disadvantaged students--"disadvantaged," that is, by any rational standard. But what people see as their birthright is a different story.

It takes self-knowledge and a strong will not to simply go along with assumed social expectations. In the meantime, the assumptions of others can be used to, say, solve a case. 

Great Feminist Film: Woman's World

A Woman's World (1954) may seem sexist on the surface. After all, no women are competing for the general manager's position at the Gifford car company. The women are invited to New York City ostensibly to help their husbands compete: which wife is the most supportive? Additionally, as Lauren Bacall's character sharply points out to Mrs. Talbot, a woman's world in the script is defined by her family. She'll support her husband for the sake of the children because the husband is working for them, not her. 

However, in truth, the movie is intensely pro-women. 

For one, the three women are quite individual as are their husbands and their marriages. Katie Baxter and her husband, Bill, are from Kansas. They are wholesome, family-oriented people. (Katie spends money on a barbecue at one point rather than a dress.) He works hard and has definite ideas, being honest and not afraid to speak up. He also believes, to his core, that if a man can't give dues to both his work and his family--if he has to sacrifice one for the other--then "something is wrong somewhere." When Clifton Webb's character, Gifford, needles him by saying, "Or it is the wife's fault," he doesn't agree. 

He and his wife are true partners. They have similar goals and values and are grateful, in the end, that Bill doesn't get the job though one is left with the impression that Jerry Talbot, played by Van Heflin, trusts Bill and his opinions and may end up relying on the man in the future. 

Elizabeth Burns, played by Lauren Bacall, and Sidney Burns, played by Fred MacMurray, are the Horatio Alger couple. They married when they were quite young and poor and Sid had started out on the factory floor of the Gifford plant. He clawed his way up the ladder. He has hit the glass ceiling, and he honestly has nothing more to offer, though he doesn't appear to realize this fact. (All three men are strong leaders in their current positions.)

Unfortunately, the need to keep going, to never stop, is a kind of addiction for Sid. Horatio Alger with heart problems and an ulcer. His wife wants him to quit. If he gets the general manager job, it will kill him. 

Interestingly, Lauren Bacall as Liz is the only wife of the three who truly qualifies as the kind of company wife that Gifford is supposedly looking for. She is svelte and well-dressed without vamping people. She is tactful. She is honestly kind. She is very intelligent. She remembers people's names, including men who have worked with her husband. She can easily carry a conversation. She is confident. Later, Gifford and his sister Evelyn (Margolo Gillmore) acknowledge that Liz would be the best fit for the type of company wife that Evelyn herself was. (Bacall gives Liz sophistication with a NYC rough edge--like Fred, she has moved up the ladder; unlike Fred, she doesn't covet the rungs above her.)

Liz sticks with her husband when she realizes that he can't help himself. Like Charles Dickens working hard all his life to avoid his father's stint in jail for debt, Sid can't stop himself pushing for the next position. They are both relieved when he doesn't get the post. 

The third wife, Carol Talbot (Arlene Dahl), is the problem wife. On the surface, she appears to be what Gifford is looking for but actually she is quite the opposite. She is a woman who has convinced herself that every deal her husband got was because she slept with one of his superiors. The climax of the movie occurs when her husband, Jerry, informs her that a top position she thought she got for him was already signed, sealed, and delivered two weeks before the superior showed up in Texas to settle the final details. (The superior still took advantage of Carol's offer.)

In fact, it is clear that she is entirely deceiving herself. She didn't sleep her husband's way to the top. Executives had their eye on Jerry for awhile. The wife wasn't a help. She was a hindrance. And she was a hindrance because, in fact, the job has nothing to do with a woman sacrificing herself on an altar to gain her husband--or herself--special treatment. She is neither wise enough nor canny enough to play that game in any case. Just as Lauren Bacall's Liz could wipe the floor with her, she would be entirely outmaneuvered by the sharkish CEOs of the industry. 

Jerry gets the job of general manager when he dumps his wife. (I've always wondered about this ending, not because I disagree with Gifford's choice, but because a guy like Jerry only overlooks his wife's behavior for as long as he has because he is besotted, and she might try to worm her way back into his life. I think Gifford should wait to offer the position until she has swanned off to attach herself to someone else.)

Ultimately, the message is clear: these are women, individual women, not props to a husband's career or decorative pieces to be showcased. The one wife who treats herself like a prop is, in fact, the non-role-model. 

Fantastic film, helped, of course, by great dialog and great acting!  

Dysfunctional Relationships in Crime Shows: UK's "Denial" and the Security of the Self-Sustaining Narrative

"I want you to begin with positive reasons why readers should believe your claims," I tell my students. "It is possible to write a persuasive essay where you attack the opposition right away, but it seriously isn't effective."

I then go on to tell them about studies where people attacked for their beliefs become more entrenched in their positions. 

The current form of argument in our culture--by politicians, on Twitter--doesn't convince anyone. In some cases, it is more likely to drive people toward another group or party or simply into a state of "I'm so tired of bullying" indifference. 

Along the same lines, I have always found the "and then we confront the villain with the villain's misdeeds and the villain collapses in apologies" approach in fictional mysteries completely unbelievable. Not that it can't happen. The murderer's resigned and exhausted confession at the end of Christie's Murder in Mesopotamia is entirely believable. But murderers who either go right on justifying themselves or right on denying the obvious are far more common. 

The same is true of the victims. One Bones' episode focuses on a talk show host who unmasks cheaters. The plot is generally rather "eh" but it does include one pitch-perfect scene. The investigators are interviewing wives of men caught by the show. Many of the wives are angry and disillusioned by the revelations. One, however, refuses to believe that her husband was about to cheat. He went to the hotel room to warn the young woman! He took off his pants because his pants got dirty! 

What makes the scene so great is that the wife is not a demure passive wilting flower. She's a strident, outspoken woman who simply won't believe that her husband was unfaithful (even though he clearly was). 

Law & Order offers a fantastic episode, "Denial," in which a husband arranges for a hit on his wife. He then tries to call off the hit, but she is shot anyway. She ends up in the hospital where she eventually dies after several weeks. 

The American version naturally circles around a legal issue, namely the rights of the individual (a DNR) versus the rights of the state to complete its legal case. 

The British version, however, is pure Greek tragedy. The wife is played by Juliet Stevenson. She is a judge. Her love and pride and guilt compel her to protect her reputation and her story about a husband who does, in fact, love her. An educated, strong, confident career woman, she resists the burden of evidence for the sake of what she "knows" and believes. It isn't necessarily love that compels her (though the final scene between husband and wife is harrowing) but the need to cling to the story that makes sense to her. 

Why are pundits and "I know the story of other people's lives" theorists so successful? 

I suggest because the story (whether it be conspiratorial or not) of "here's what's going on/here's where everyone stands/here are all the answers" is terrifically compelling and stabilizing. As Chris Stirewalt states in an article from May, "The myth [that everything is bad because the people in charge screwed up] is persistent for many reasons, including the human tendency to blame external forces for our misfortunes, but also because the people who think they are in charge want to believe they have that kind of power. Even if you’re a screw up, you’re a screw up with clout." In addition to clout, I propose that the same people are seeking constancy: "You're a screw up with a secure role in the world."

Even toddlers prefer negative attention to no attention at all.

Chihayafuru & Yuri on Ice: Sports as the Ultimate Defense of Individual Introspection

This past spring, I finished watching the second season of Chihayafuru. I also requested and watched, three times in a row, Yuri on Ice! 

I determined that sports is the Japanese answer to psychology-on-the-couch. Sports satisfies both the communal and ego-centric aspects of human nature.

There is a reason Progressive leftists in the West are willing to let grown biological men compete as women in sports that rely on muscle, physical speed, and physical endurance. They don't care because for these particular activists, competition is a symbolic act, representative of something entirely divorced from the sport. It's what the players say in the media or what they "mean" to various groups in terms of their labels. 

 

For these activists, the sport can be gutted, shorn of its actual competitive purpose, because they don't care about the actual sport, not enough to understand the fierce desire by players to play and win.

 

Activists of this ilk will eventually lose, of course. People love their sports too much. Thankfully! In terms of meaning, the survival of sports is an act of libertarian conservatism: 

 

Sports are the ultimate combination of reality, rules, and individualism.

1. All the abstracted, jargon-heavy theories in the world don't replace actual ability and discipline.

In Yuri on Ice! the 15-year-old male competitor is well-aware that his body will change as it ages. He is also aware that although he has the edge on the protagonist in terms of youth/energy and inherent talent, he lacks the protagonist's stamina. 

 

At 23, the protagonist Yuri K. is at the upper range of being able to compete (only a few more years if he is lucky), but he has physical power and discipline (along the same lines, the real life figure skater Yuzuru Hanyu, now professional, has the ability to build up great speed--which is necessary for jumps--from a still position).

Likewise, Chihaya's ability to hear syllables as soon as the readers take a breath is an actual skill and, interestingly enough, sometimes a hindrance, depending on the player she is up against. All the team members continually practice to build up speed and recognition--and they rely on research regarding their competitors' strengths and weaknesses.

 

The game's environment is also a reality that players must take into account. Nobody complains, except in their heads, when the air conditioning cuts out. The stuffy room with non-moving air is reality. Make it work.

2. And then there are those rules! 

 

All the sophisticated finger-pointing theories in the world don't wipe out the rules, not in the moment of the game. Sure, they may be structural manifestations of some corrupt system or of war or whatever, but, eh, in the world of sports, blaming the "system" is simply making excuses. Characters need to meet the standards set by the game.

Both anime series deliver the rules in bits and pieces--namely, viewers learn them when the rules become important to the plot. Consequently, with Yuri, I've learned a tremendous amount about how figure skating is judged. I always assumed that falling was end-of-game but it turns out, the rules are more complex, and the strategic skater will take them into consideration.

Likewise, I am continually amused and amazed with Chihayafuru that psychological attacks, such as standing up and stretching, calling out, or slapping the mat, are not considered cheating but rather permissible actions that the other team had better learn how to handle. And I was impressed that the one first-year, Akihiro, wasn't given a pass for being able to play 2nd verse karuta. That's nice--okay, now learn the rules that apply here and now.

3. Ultimately, the inner voices of the players are intensely self-reflective. 

 

The games and performances become the manifestation of deliberate inner conclusions by separate individuals.

The blow-by-blow tournament episodes in Chihayafuru are accompanied by blow-by-blow inner thoughts and reactions from the characters

In Yuri on Ice!, Yuri K. struggles with confidence--his performances become the literal manifestation not of bolstered self-esteem but of fierce personal analysis and choices and will.

Okay, in both anime, the self-esteem element is part of the characters' success. But that element is a recognition of what they do--what inner strengths and abilities they should rely on at a particular moment and why.

It's that focus on why and its connection to how that blows me away. Freud has nothing on these folks! Therapy may be stigmatized in Japan. I would say it has been going on for years, what with sports and preparing for final exams. Therapy is almost redundant.

One Reason Wishbone was so Successful

This summer, I went on an online Wishbone-watching binge. A few of the episodes are available on DVD but most aren't, not even on VHS! 

So I googled and discovered, there are tons of Wishbone lovers out there! And they post lots and lots of stuff!

The show holds up surprisingly well. There are a few "oh, it was the 90's" indicators. But generally, the kids' clothes and behavior are quite up-to-date. 

The setting, of course, is Joe and Wishbone's hometown, which is the type of hometown that people mean when they say, "It takes a village." There's diversity! Everyone is fairly well-educated! Where are the poor people? Ah, there they are--we help them with charitable giving! 

It could be irritating. 

It isn't. 

The reason? 

Wishbone.

More specifically, Wishbone voiced by Larry Brantley. Not only does Wishbone tell stories in a kindly--only faintly sarcastic--way, he maintains his quest: finding and retelling adventurous, scary, sweet, humorous, tragic, ponder-worthy tales. The fact that he is surrounded by a "properly" diverse group of friends doesn't take over the show's focus. It's there. It's not the point.

Because Wishbone is in charge--and Wishbone cares about the beauty and worth of the stories themselves. Not what they "mean" (in the geopolitical sense). He cares about plot. He cares about characters and setting. He cares about the authors. He cares about the stories' intended themes. 

And food. He cares about food. 

He doesn't care about labels. And because he doesn't care about labels, he feels free to draw on the neighborhood's well-rounded group of friends with well-rounded personalities and backgrounds to fuel his imagination. They and a similarly diverse group populate the tales and make them truly universal. The point isn't ego ("my identity). The point is always and forever storytelling. Identity is not the message--identity is the function. "Here's our tales" rather than "Do you appreciate us yet?" 

It's the difference between Rocky Horror Picture Show and Rent. As C.S. Lewis maintained, Christians should be wary of "Christianity and MY CAUSE" since the cause will eventually take over the Christianity, and it won't be Christianity any more.    

Wishbone preserves the art of storytelling by not letting it be taken over by A CAUSE. 

Great television!

Below is part 1/7 of the movie. I adore it! And it has a great, entirely relevant theme about fame and the bullying of social media. (There is a full movie version on YouTube, but the quality of the 7-part version is better.)

Interview with the Translator: Twelve Kingdoms, Isolationism

Kate: In The Shore in Twilight, Youko makes an impassioned speech against isolationism backed by the libertarian and maverick Enki. 

Japan has a longer history of isolationism than America and a better excuse (being a self-sustaining island—though Great Britain certainly went in the opposite direction!). 

What is the current attitude in Japan? Has the Internet/modern economics made self-isolation a completely bogus choice? Or is Youko’s self-interested, limited involvement the answer? Isolationism—to a point; involvement—to a point.

Eugene: "Isolationism—to a point; involvement--to a point" is a good description of the Japanese attitude toward foreign affairs. Article 9 actually puts Japan in the same situation as the Twelve Kingdoms, although the prohibition against military adventures abroad is constitutional, not divine. Former PM Abe made noises about amending Article 9 but that effort went nowhere and likely never will.

This is why futuristic military dramas involving Japan and Japanese forces so often take place under the auspices of the United Nations or some convenient equivalent. But that's also what makes a war series like Gate so unique, as it comes up with a creative and entertaining excuse for the JSDF to take the gloves off without risking any real-world fallout.

It's interesting to analyze the Edo-period jidaigeki alongside the classic Hollywood western. Japan's attempt at a Manifest Destiny after 1868 turned out so disastrously that the isolationism of the Edo period is now seen in an idealized and romanticized light. George Washington's Farewell Address could also summarize the political attitudes of the average Japanese citizen and politician.

From the long view of history, the last century (and Hideyoshi's invasions of Korea in the late 16th century) will be seen as anomalies. Foreign policy across Asia can be broadly described as a bunch of competing Monroe Doctrines. As long as the centers hold (the government of China, for example, does not disintegrate into competing factions), the conflicts will mostly be found at the peripheries.

The problem, as always, is defining where the borders and boundaries are. Perhaps that is the most useful thing the gods of the Twelve Kingdoms did.

Between a Rock and...Quick Sand

Several years ago, about the time of Clinton's impeachment, a woman in my workplace said, "Who is worse: Clinton or Nixon?"

I was stymied. How could I possibly answer that question? Other than the two being American presidents and both being accused of various types of bad behavior, their cases weren't the same. I am not a believer that history repeats itself. Every event deserves to be examined individually. 

In addition, there was a fallacy embedded in the question--that the two people had to be rated. I couldn't just dislike them both. 

I often argue that comparisons are part of human psychology--noting comparisons is an evolutionary survival mechanism since knowing the difference between a saber-tooth and one's tribe is mostly a good ability to have. 

But it's a survival mechanism that is glorified beyond its helpfulness. 

Maybe you feel like I did then and often do now--like you're caught between two sides neither of which you have any desire to defend: one politician or another when politics is by its nature, messy and compromising and arguably, a necessary evil (yet an evil). 

Maybe you've found yourself in situations where yes, you don't agree with name-calling as a bullying tactic, and you don't agree with censoring difficult conversations on topics where people disagree, and you really don't agree with being forced to adopt a name/label/language to get other people to back off. 

Maybe you despair of arguments on the "other side," only to turn around and find the same arguments on the side you're supposedly on: it's okay when "we" do it, not when "they" do it. Ah, the ubiquitous "they." And "we"! (Who are all these people?)

Maybe you are exhausted at being backed into corners and asked to take sides on topics at all, not because you are lazy or lacking in courage but because the sides miss the point: to adhere to any of them is to miss out on art and trust and belief and empiricism and learning and personal integrity and principles, all the stuff you value but don't find (despite the platitudes and claims and trumpeting language) coming from the people asking you to take sides/join a group/defend a leader. 

Below are some voices I trust on social issues. I don't agree with everything that they write or say. But I do trust them to be honest.

(And if you are thinking, But you left out...I either don't know the person you're thinking of or I have a reason to leave that person off the list. I provide no links to groups (non-individuals) except Substack and to no institutions except John McWhorter's page on The New York Times. My choices here are quite deliberate.) 

• Bari Weiss: Substack: So sensible and insightful!
• Jonah Goldberg: Clear, sensible, well-read, and funny--plus, kudos to Jonah Goldberg for saying what I wrote above only better: https://gfile.thedispatch.com/p/donald-trumps-megaphone
  
• Ayaan Hirsi Ali: Amazing--can't say enough good things!
  
• John McWhorter: Brave and level-headed.
  
• Coleman Hughes: Intelligent, level-headed, very interesting young man.
  
• Niall Ferguson: I often don't agree with him but his writing is fascinating.
• Joe Rogan: Rarely watch him since I'm not into sports, but I do trust him. Thoughtful guy!  
  

LEGOs and Why Twitter is Full of Unpleasant People

During the Republican Convention, Ivanka Trump spoke about her son building a replica of the White House out of Legos. 

In yet another example of how leftists pointlessly disparage conservative women, Twitter went nuts, proclaiming that since she once told a story about building Trump Towers out of Legos, she must be lying about her son building the White House out of Legos.

Althouse immediately and correctly calls them all idiots, and she posted the latest trending picture of Trump. I don't usually post political pictures on my blog, but I thought this was one of the nicer pictures I've seen of Trump, so here it is. (I am well-aware that posting such a picture signals support--I don't actually care for Trump all that much, but the picture suggests that I do. Well, guess what, leftists? Reasonable, intelligent, commonsensical independents are getting tired of you and your high school, petty-minded, cruel, negative, self-indulgent, sneering, absence-of-anything-constructive, can-only-tear-others-down, mean-spirited bullying. So if the picture signals support: GOOD!)

Althouse points out that lots of people can build a White House out of Legos. It ain't that big a deal. "They sell kits." (She even has a link.)

What struck me, however, was the weird insistence that only one person in a family is allowed to build things with Legos. 

Ivanka Trump obviously likes Legos. In case anybody hasn't been paying attention, lots of people like Legos. The Netherlands likes Legos (see LegoLand above). Mythbusters liked Legos and built a big Lego ball.

Chance to say: RIP, Grant

My brothers like Legos. When I was growing up, my brothers played a game where they built planes out of Legos, then sent the planes down a string that stretched the length of our playroom. The planes that survived mostly intact at the bottom won.

And I built things out of Legos too!

Apparently, according to unpleasant people on Twitter, if one person in a family likes Legos and builds things out of Legos, nobody else in the family is allowed to. (Cancel culture, anyone?)

Doesn't it make more sense that Ivanka has a rather endearing hobby? She's 38, a decade younger than me. She is well within the generation of Lego obsession. I find it entirely believable that she would transfer her love of Legos to her child. It's the go-to gift! The go-to Christmas present! 

And if the kid enjoys it, all the better. 

Since I rarely post about politics (so this may be one of only a few I'll post before November 2020), I decided to clarify. I dislike petty humorlessness wherever it appears. I don't care for the mean-spiritedness of the left (and I heartily dislike its own lack of policing), but I also can't much stand the humorless how-dare-you-criticize-the-Great-Man posturing on the right (I mostly think that since Tulsi Gabbard and Andrew Yang were hounded out of the primaries by their own party, the right at least has something constructive to offer, no matter how fluffy). In truth, I found these Tweets about Barron  fairly hilarious in a 1980s John Cusack way. 

However, generally speaking, I think it best to leave the kids alone (and that statement is aimed at everybody, and just so you know, when it comes to ethics, it doesn't matter what the other side did first or last). 

The Worth of Taming of the Shrew

Re-post from 2005

* * *

In one of my undergrad classes, the issue of sexism in Shakespeare came up. We had just gone to see Taming of The Shrew, and the class was divided into those who thought it might be sexist but hey, women can be jerks too; those who thought it was totally sexist; and the professor who thought that it wasn't sexist at all. (He was a huge Shakespeare fan and basically saw Shakespeare as a modern, thoroughly unspoiled liberal writer who could do no wrong—no sexism, no racism, no "isms" at all!)

I thought everyone was nuts, which may be typical for an undergrad but not very helpful. I can articulate better now what I thought then, so I will.

What I thought was (1) the play we had seen stank; (2) so, it's sexist--so what are you going to do about it?

Concerning (2), I don't think anyone in the course (at that time) was gunning for censorship. I think, if the issue had been pressed, education would have been promoted as an answer. That is: every production of Taming of the Shrew should begin with an apology from the director and actors; it should end with a discussion led by a women's group, and the program should be embellished with essays by concerned professors who are afraid that the audience will, by watching the play, assume that wife-beating is okay.

I'm not particularly opposed to apologies, discussions or essays, but they all so miss the point.

The most classic version of Taming of the Shrew [not necessarily my favorite; my favorite is Shakespeare Retold's version with Henderson and Sewell] is Zeffirelli's Richard Burton/Elizabeth Taylor production, and [although not my favorite] it is magnificent. 

It is magnificent for several reasons. First, the play is allowed to speak for itself. I don't mean that interpretation isn't involved--Zeffirelli's hand is omnipresent--but there's no attempt to create an application to our modern day.

The play that I saw as an undergrad, the one that stank, made such an attempt. Instead of being a beer-guzzling, larger than life, obnoxious, funny and ultimately chauvinistic nutcase, Petruchio was portrayed as a mild-mannered, sweet, well-meaning bleeding heart. Yeah, right. The relationship between Petruchio and Catarina was mended when Catarina realized that Petruchio was just trying to save her cultural embarrassment; it's all a game, honey, play along.

Elizabeth Taylor was criticized for not

being a true Shakespearan actor. Whatever.

She turns this scene into a demand rather than

supplication through sheer force of personality.

In the Zeffirelli version, Petruchio and Catarina have got so much chutzpah, sexual come hitherness and physical energy, they would probably kill anybody else they married (this was also true of Burton and Taylor). This Petruchio, unlike the (ironically) appallingly chauvinistic Petruchio of the "modern interpretation," is never sure of Catarina. They will keep fighting until the day they die, and they will love every minute of it. And yeah, it freaks out most of us but as Joan Armatrading pointed out (possibly also ironically), some people are into that sort of thing.

The second reason Zeffirelli's Taming of the Shrew is amazing is the last scene. I'm not a huge Elizabeth Taylor fan, but when she sweeps into the banquet hall, hauling her sister by one ear and the newly married widow by the other, she takes the room and the screen by storm. And then she gives the speech—THE speech—the speech about a woman's place. And it is a thing of beauty. It is gorgeous. You sit there, thinking, "An ordinary, mortal, money-making playwright wrote this." Not a word wrong. The speech flows.

Which is the final wonderful thing about Zeffirelli's production: it lets Shakespeare sing. The cinematography is plush and colorful; the scenes are full of extras; the pace is hyperactive and alongside all this are the words, those stunning words that explain Shakespeare's reputation down the ages. Yeah, the man could descend to bad writing, but when his verse was good, oh my.

[2020 tangent:] What is so sad about all the social justice people who kill art--even my readily offended classmates from many years ago--is that they are so busy focusing on message, they miss not only content but the sheer exuberance of caring about something for the sake of its beauty or wittiness or poetry. I recently watched Ford v. Ferrari. It was way too long for me and seemed a tad uneven though it was totally worth watching for Damon and Bale. The thing that struck me most was the power of hobby. It's the element that underscores Last Man Standing and makes it more than about politics--and it is the element that literal-minded "let's expurgate everything!" types will never understand as they embroil themselves more and more in the mindset of petty politics.

Car guys have fun.

Zeffirelli's Kate and Petruchio have fun.

Another Reason I Detest Doomsdaying

Perhaps the magnitude of the [degrading claims] gave the [leaders] second thoughts...One man, for one, concluded that, despite all the flaws of the court's procedures, which he always acknowledged, the sheer volume of [degrading claims] demonstrated just how important the...task was. As [he] explained in print and [on Twitter], those [claims] showed the [corrupt party] was laying a plot for "rotting out the [correct way of thinking] in this country." In its place, [the corrupt party] could substitute "perhaps a more gross [outrage] than ever the world saw before." Given the scale of the immediate crisis, it scarcely mattered that, by the man's interpretation [of expert opinions], which he was sharing at the time, the [end of the world] would probably begin in five years.

So who is being described here--who is the passage about? Is it Trump going after the woke generation? Is the woke generation going after, well, everybody? Is it someone from the right? From the left? Is it the news?

It's Cotton Mather, getting upset about witches.

The point: the language that THE END OF TIMES IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER! And THAT GROUP IS RESPONSIBLE! And EVERYBODY WHO DOESN'T AGREE IS GOING TO MY VERSION OF HELL! has been around for a very long time.

It gets trotted out pretty much all the time. I grew up hearing it (not at home) from religious people and secular people. It was a kind of tepid, upstate New York, middle-class bourgeois "I'm going to college next year" version of how bad everything was and subsequently easily disregarded.

It can become more passionate and determined. Interestingly enough, it tends to build up not necessarily at the height of a culture's dominance but as that dominance begins to disintegrate.

In Hot Protestants, Michael Winship makes an argument that is echoed in other books about Salem but is especially well-stated in his fascinating analysis:

The Salem disaster is often treated as the defining expression of American puritanism. But it was an expression of American puritanism in its fevered death throes, after it had been thrown in to a disastrous terrifying imperial war and the old brakes on witch-hunts had been removed, both by powers beyond puritanism's control. 

With Salem, the conviction rate of witches in New England rose from 25 percent to 100 percent. The magistrates were not true believers. They were political animals.

Of course, Cotton Mather was a true believer.

The end of everything did not arrive 5 years later.

Why Choosing the Supposedly Correct Side is Difficult, Part 4

Charles I is executed. The English Civil War continues...

Oliver Cromwell: Somewhat less nutty

than his supporters.

English Civil War, Part II

Cromwell takes over as Lord Protector. After which, the Congregationalists (little personal churches) and Presbyterians (national church) get together in Parliament to pass as many laws as they can think of telling people how to think and behave.

Interestingly enough, many of these laws are rarely enforced since Cromwell's cronies (judges, magistrates, etc.) are far more interested in getting paid than telling people how to live.

Cromwell dies. The world falls apart. England's king--Charles I's son--is invited to return. He is understandably pro-Catholic. Would any prince continue to support the religious fanatics that executed his dad? Okay, some of them would; Charles II doesn't. 

Accusations and conspiracy theories and paranoia and hysteria rampage on...until the English get sick of the whole thing and ask William and Mary to step in. They do. Separation of church and state moves remorselessly and inevitably forward.

Who Won?

No monarch was ever this interesting.

The Presbyterians and the Congregationalist didn't exactly come out ahead. England stayed mostly Protestant but it wasn't a particular type of Protestantism (high church Anglicanism is the religion of the monarch and it's...not any particular type of Protestantism). 

Catholics eventually made a come back. True diversity (not current faux "the people in this group CLAIM diverse beliefs while all spouting exactly the same dogma" diversity) flourished. 

In the end, one can believe that the ordinary person who thought that God was loving and that executing kings was bad and that somebody should have paid the army and that going to the theatre is good (however much the plays might offend somebody's sensibilities): that person might have come out ahead in the long run.

Or at least that person's grandchild--if one starts with the upheaval of Henry VIII's break with the Catholic Church all the way to the Glorious Reformation when the boring kings and queens arrived in England. There were probably a few peaceful decades in there somewhere.  

Why Choosing the Supposedly Correct Side is Difficult, Part 3

I believe most people in most of history (and now) do not fall into neat categories. They don't want exactly one narrative to win, that is, only the programs/outcomes/views of one particular side. Human beings are as complex as the times and events they encounter. They can want several things at once--and do.

The wrap-up of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation in England illustrates this point. It is a world in which extremists battled while ordinary people tried to survive.  

English Civil War, Part I

The Presbyterians are back! They control Parliament. They want to pass all kinds of laws telling people how to act and think and be.

Meanwhile, in America, Roger Williams has emphatically declared that mixing religion and politics is JUST WRONG (Mr. Separation of Church and State) and gotten kicked out of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. But not executed (the leaders in Massachusetts rather like him despite their differences).

The English Presbyterians, however, want to shut up people like Roger Williams by passing laws about blasphemy, so "[people] either have to keep to [themselves their] conviction that God in his goodness would not damn people to hell for eternity or face execution" (Winship).

So it sounds like the Presbyterians are the bad guys--

Except, they hesitate to execute King Charles I, which they rightly consider far too extreme an act. The Congregationalists (far more extreme Protestants) do want to execute him, in part because Cromwell's army is pissed as stink about not getting paid by the aforementioned Presbyterian Parliament (and Parliament and the king are lumped together despite Charles I having zero interest in Presbyterianism).

Note: the Presbyterians, originally the religious radicals in England, have moved closer to the center as a more radical group fills the void.

The army is filled with a whole bunch of people who don't much like other people telling them what to think. Much more my cup of tea, EXCEPT--

(1) Charles I really shouldn't have been executed. It was pretty shameful; he was no worse than any other monarch and WAY more confused since his godly right to rule (which was still a given at that time) came right up against the radicalism of a whole bunch of so-called freethinkers.

(2) The Congregationalists were rather horrible. They were like high school cliques--or social justice warriors--who determine that anyone who doesn't stay "true" to their little church/clique/supercool group is evil, satanic, just-so-baaad and deserves to be bullied and mistreated.

To be continued...

Why Choosing the Supposedly Correct Side is Difficult, Part 2

In the prior post, I summarize the beginnings of the Reformation in England. There’s a lot more to the story. The point is, in the middle of all that, what direction would a good, thoughtful, non-CAUSE non-crazy person leap?

Who Represents the "Right" Side?

Queen Elizabeth? Okay, she’s cool, but not entirely pro-democracy.

The Geneva Calvinists produced the Geneva Bible.

The Presbyterians? Some of them were okay, but the ones who got obsessed with surplices make me roll my eyes. And I’m not alone. People back then rolled their eyes too.

Geneva, where the more extreme Calvinists hung out? They had that double-predestination thing going on, which enters "angels dancing on the head of a pin" territory when it comes to clearing up theology. And not all puritans were on board with it, some of them maintaining that double predestination “disgraced God.”

And yet--

These people brought debate and democracy to the whole idea of governance and religion. Granted, it was proto-democracy, not exactly the type of freedom-of-speech Americans assume as a right. But it is still remarkable for the time period. It drew all sorts of people who were looking for alternatives to previous forms of worship. Calvinists in general preached individual conversion, even individual salvation for women as well as men (again, considering the time period, this is extraordinary!).

Dod was a fairly strict Puritan who was a

decent human being, promoting persuasion

through kindness rather than lectures.

Yet if a person wanted stability—well, there was the non-democratic queen. Only, Queen Elizabeth’s ability to survive every single group that wanted to drag her down—from Catholics to puritans—is a historical reality now, not a given at the time.

There were a large number of “conforming” puritans—those who acceded to the monarch’s requests and maintained a more stable course. But they also tended to be a tad rule-oriented, becoming obsessed (and I do mean obsessed) with exactly how people should behave: how they should hunt, talk, sing...They  weren’t fans of dancing, maypoles, plays, card playing—

On the other hand, they were almost aggressively practical. Counter-Reformation Protestants wanted the table where the Lord's Supper was set to be treated with more respect, as in placed somewhere in the church where dogs couldn't pee on it. But to puritans, it was a table, not an altar.

I can see both sides. Not the anti-plays stuff because, frankly, I perceive God as on the side of artists who want to add to creation (not cancel it). And I'm not too fond of peed-on tables. Yet I admire the practicality that sees a table as a table.

Ahh, history is messy, which is why I never trust a pundit’s streamlined version of history that fits whatever that pundit thinks should happen NOW (no matter what side of the political fence). 20/20 hindsight is easy. It isn’t reality.

See next post: Part 3. 

Why Choosing the Supposedly Correct Side Is Difficult, Part 1

A recent book about Puritans, Hot Protestants: A History of Puritanism in England and America by Michael P. Winship brings home the problem of picking the “right side" versus picking the "wrong side.”

It is easy, in retrospect (or if one is a pundit) to pinpoint the "right" or "winning" side (those labels don't necessarily fall into the same category). That is, it is easy after the fact (or for "I've got my streamlined narrative!" advocates) to excise complications, to know exactly what side of the boat everyone is supposed to rush to.

Truth: the world is complicated, 20/20 hindsight can be downright arrogant, and pundits are notoriously untrustworthy.

The Reformation in England is a great example!

The Reformation Begins

England goes Protestant. And Protestants are ecstatic—right up until they go nuts. Presbyterians decide that Queen Elizabeth isn’t going far enough. The Church of England is still riddled with things like surplices and the Book of Common Prayer, which is too close to the dreaded religion of the Antichrist to be acceptable (consider the extreme language).

Queen Elizabeth is unimpressed. No Catholic, she is still more Catholic (like her father, Henry VIII) than Protestant.

Some Presbyterians pull back from their extreme demands. Others start preaching that the Church of England is a corrupt organization that is going to pull England down to hell. Queen Elizabeth is now miffed.

And I gotta say, I probably would have backed the queen—

Except I’m also a pro-democracy American. And one of the Presbyterian arguments was that the queen ruled by the consent of the governed. People loved Protestants, so the queen should love Protestants. The Presbyterians also ran their own meetings in a non-hierarchic fashion, through discussion and debate.

Then the queen rejected their even rather mild reforms—which mild reforms were likely totally justified. But Queen Elizabeth was increasingly irritated—and fearful—of a Puritan conspiracy and slammed the proverbial door in the faces of these early puritans.

John Cotton: A good puritan was supposed to question,

"Am I one of the elect or not?" for that person's entire life.

Like so many pundits and activists, many puritans

became more concerned with deciding if others

were elect or not than focusing on themselves.

At which point, Wingate writes, “It was neither separatists nor anti-puritans who finally pulled the Presbyterian movement down. Presbyterians did that themselves.” With the kind of extremist rage that Causes (with a capital C) seem to evoke, the more extreme Presbyterians wrote abusive and venomous pamphlets that satirized all their enemies—and incidentally, kind of mocked religion too. Now everybody was miffed.

There’s a lot more to the story. The point is, in the middle of all that, what direction would a good, thoughtful, non-CAUSE non-crazy person leap?

See next post: Part 2.