Monday, August 15, 2011

Past the Tipping Point


…when you're under murderous assault is precisely not the time to turn your entire political culture inside out. That's what the terrorists want you to do, that's what they are dying for you to do. But you're supposed to resist that temptation.

Instead, in thrall to the serpentine blandishments of fear, we spooked ourselves (or at any rate allowed our political class to spook us) into the grotesque disfigurations of the Patriot Act; the witch hunts aimed at Arabs and South Asian immigrants (many of them second- and third-generation American citizens); the botched invasion of Afghanistan; the calamitous Iraq fiasco; the preposterous fetishizations of Hallowed Ground and the Families and the Heroes; in sum, the hysterical deformation of virtually all of American politics, which in turn allowed the egregiously incompetent President George W. Bush that second term with its Katrina debacle, burgeoning deficits, and the whole clueless build-up to the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression.

...

The 10 years just passing, as we all must realize if we are being honest with ourselves, constituted the hinge decade, the decade when something substantial had to be done if the world were going to avoid the exponential catastrophe into which we have now embarked. (You can't go on sagely noting, year after year, that we have only 10 years left within which to confront the crisis, without at some point those 10 years having run out.) Perhaps we could have done both: honored the victims of 9/11 while at the same time tending to the far greater devastation bearing down on us. The point is that, obviously, we weren't able to, and in almost every conceivable way, the result has been an utterly squandered decade.

Shame. Shame on us.


Lawrence Weschler, New York Institute for the Humanities, New York University
The Chronicle Review, August 11, 2011

Be Afraid! Be Very Afr... I'm sorry, what?


…Islamic terrorism has not posed as large a threat as reporters and the public think – certainly not as large a threat as Al Qaeda and its affiliates intended. They routinely complain about the failure of Muslims to join their movement.

Of the 56 million people who die each year around the world, around two million die from HIV/AIDS.  Nearly one million die from malaria.  Almost three quarters of a million die from violence.  According to the National Counterterrorism Center, terrorism peaked in 2007, with 23,000 fatalities, half of them in Iraq – a terrible toll, but not a leading cause of death.

In the United States, 15,000 people are murdered each year.  Islamic terrorism, including the Beltway sniper attacks, has accounted for almost three dozen deaths in American since 9/11 – a small fraction of the violence that the country experiences every year.  The toll would have been higher if the perpetrators has been more competent…Even so, the number of perpetrators has been relatively low.  Fewer than 200 Muslim Americans have engaged in terrorist plots over the past decade – that’s out of a population of approximately two million.  This constitutes a serious problem, but not nearly as great as public concern would suggest. 

Charles Kurzman, University of North Carolina
The Chronicle Review, August 12, 2011

Monday, May 16, 2011

Isn't it wonderful to live in a post-racial society.

 
 
This picture was taken by James Edward Bates in August 2002 in Petal, Mississippi.


www.kkkproject.com

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

...if you got a gun, shoot 'em in the head. That's the sure way to kill 'em. If you don't, get yourself a club, beat 'em or burn 'em. They go up pretty easy.

While traditional zombie narratives tend to end in apocalypse, most...theoretical approaches...suggested vigorous policy responses should we be attacked by the living dead.  Realists would push for a live-and-let-live arrangement between the undead and everyone else.  Liberals would call for an imperfect but useful global governing body to regulate the undead -- a World Zombie Organization.  Constructivists would call for a robust, pluralistic security community dedicated to preventing new zombie outbreaks and socializing existing zombies into human society.  Bureaucrats would very likely err in their initial response, but they'd adapt.

Daniel W. Drezner, author of Theories of International Politics and Zombies
"How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Zombies"
The Chronicle Review
February 18, 2011

Monday, February 14, 2011

Perhaps Urban VIII could help...

The moral [of the 2010 election] is clear. Republicans don’t have a mandate to cut spending; they have a mandate to repeal the laws of arithmetic. 

Paul Krugman
The New York Times
February 14, 2011

Friday, February 11, 2011

Egypt: a caution

The morning freshness of the world-to-be intoxicated us. We were wrought up with ideas inexpressible and vaporous, but to be fought for. We lived many lives in those whirling campaigns, never sparing ourselves: yet when we achieved and the new world dawned, the old men came out again and took our victory to re-make in the likeness of the former world they knew. Youth could win, but had not learned to keep: and was pitiably weak against age. We stammered that we had worked for a new heaven and a new earth, and they thanked us kindly and made their peace.

T.E. Laurence
Seven Pillars of Wisdom

Monday, January 31, 2011

Why'd you pick that name?

How High is the Watergate?
by Phil Ochs

How high is the watergate, Mama, she said it's one foot high and risin'
How high is the watergate, Papa, he said it's two feet high and risin'
There's a flood around the poker game (There's a bug on the window pane)
Gerry Ford must be insane
Oh, my God, it's Mickey Spillane,
The tides are risin' (Two feet high and rising)

How high is the watergate, Mama, three feet high and risin'
How high is the watergate, Papa, three feet high and risin'
In the Swiss bank the money's stashed
18 minutes of tapes were slashed
They've even taken in Johnny Cash
Three feet high and rising

How high is the watergate, Mama, four feet high and risin'
How high is the watergate, Papa, four feet high and risin'
Nixon's gone and taught you lies (Nixon doesn't talk, he lies)
A face that screams out for replies (...for a pie)
And the only one workin's is David Frye,
Oh the tides are risin' (four feet high and risin')

How high is the watergate, Mama, five feet high and risin'
How high is the watergate, Papa, five feet high and risin'
If there ever was a crook, he's it
Perversion is the soul of wit
Pack your shovel, he's full of shit,
The tides are risin' (five feet high and risin')

Five Feet High and Rising
by Johnny Cash

My mama always taught me that good things come from adversity if we put our faith in the Lord.
We couldn't see much good in the flood waters when they
were causing us to have to leave home,
But when the water went down, we found that it had washed a load of rich black bottom dirt across our land. The following year we had the best cotton crop we'd ever had.

I remember hearing:

How high's the water, mama?
Two feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Two feet high and risin'

We can make it to the road in a homemade boat
That's the only thing we got left that'll float
It's already over all the wheat and the oats,
Two feet high and risin'

How high's the water, mama?
Three feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Three feet high and risin'

Well, the hives are gone,
I've lost my bees
The chickens are sleepin'
In the willow trees
Cow's in water up past her knees,
Three feet high and risin'

How high's the water, mama?
Four feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Four feet high and risin'

Hey, come look through the window pane,
The bus is comin', gonna take us to the train
Looks like we'll be blessed with a little more rain,
4 feet high and risin'

How high's the water, mama?
Five feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa?
Five feet high and risin'

Well, the rails are washed out north of town
We gotta head for higher ground
We can't come back till the water comes down,
Five feet high and risin'

Well, it's five feet high and risin'

Waist Deep in the Big Muddy
by Pete Seeger 

  

It was back in nineteen forty-two,
I was a member of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in-a Loozianna,
One night by the light of the moon.
The captain told us to ford a river,
That's how it all begun.
We were -- knee deep in the Big Muddy,
But the big fool said to push on.

The Sergeant said, "Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the base?"
"Sergeant, go on! I forded this river
'Bout a mile above this place.
It'll be a little soggy but just keep slogging.
We'll soon be on dry ground."
We were -- waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.

The Sergeant said, "Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim."
"Sergeant, don't be a Nervous Nellie,"
The Captain said to him.
"All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I'll lead on."
We were -- neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.

All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain's helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, "Turn around men!
I'm in charge from now on."
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone.

We stripped and dived and found his body
Stuck in the old quicksand.
I guess he didn't know that the water was deeper
Than the place he'd once before been.
Another stream had joined the Big Muddy
'Bout a half mile from where we'd gone.
We were lucky to escape from the Big Muddy
When the big fool said to push on.

Well, I'm not going to point any moral;
I'll leave that for yourself
Maybe you're still walking, you're still talking
You'd like to keep your health.
But every time I read the papers
That old feeling comes on;
We're -- waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.

Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep! Neck deep! Soon even a
Tall man'll be over his head, we're
Waist deep in the Big Muddy!
And the big fool says to push on!

Dark Tide, the Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919


by Stephen Puleo

The first account of the Boston molasses flood, when a 2.3 million gallon tank collapsed, sending a 15 foot high wave of molasses in all directions. The molasses, traveling at up to 35 miles per hour, destroyed a large section of the North End, killing 21 and injuring 150. 

The cause of the disaster was corporate neglect and incompetence, rushing construction to take advantage of the increasing demand for industrial alcohol (a byproduct of molasses) resulting from the war.  In its defense, the company tried to blame anarchists, largely Italian, who were becoming increasingly violent in opposition to war, capitalism, and government crackdowns on individual freedoms.  (One result of the activities of radicals and unionists was Mitchel Palmer and John Hoover's assault on civil liberties).

Puleo also gives a history of molasses as a commodity, which was a critical part of the slave trade, the "middle passage" being the voyage between Africa and the West Indies, after which human beings were traded for molasses which was shipped to New England to be traded for rum which was shipped to Africa to be traded for...

The writing is somewhat stiff, but the book is an interesting and well documented recounting of a forgotten incident in one of the critical years in American history.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Raise your hand if you could have voted 200 years ago.

If democratic legitimacy is the measure of a sound constitutional interpretive practice, then Justice Scalia needs to give an account of why and how rote obedience to the commitments of voters two centuries distant and wildly different in racial, sexual, and cultural composition can be justified on democratic grounds.

Jamal Greene, Columbia law professor, quoted in
The Commandments
Jill Lepore
The New Yorker
January 17, 2011

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

To Your Scattered Bodies Go

I believe we inherit a great river of knowledge, a flow of patterns coming from many sources. The information that comes from deep in the evolutionary past we call genetics. The information passed along from hundreds of years ago we call culture. The information passed along from decades ago we call family, and the information offered months ago we call education. But it is all information that flows through us. The brain is adapted to the river of knowledge and exists only as a creature in that river. Our thoughts are profoundly molded by this long historic flow, and none of us exists, self-made, in isolation from it.

A fictional neuroscientist 
Social Animal
David Books
The New Yorker
January 17, 2011

Monday, January 3, 2011

There are two novels that can change a bookish fourteen-year old's life: The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged. One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes, leading to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood, unable to deal with the real world. The other, of course, involves orcs.

Kung Fu Monkey via Paul Krugman's Conscience of a Liberal

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Atheism or misotheism?

...if God is nothing but silence and inaction, then there is no God.

John K. Roth

from "Hating God", Bernard Schweizer, The Chronicle Review, December 10, 2010
Why, but why should I bless Him? In every fiber I rebelled.  Because He has had thousands of children burned in His pits?...I was the accuser.  God the accused.

Elie Wiesel, Night


from "Hating God", Bernard Schweizer, The Chronicle Review, December 10, 2010
...the hurt that God has done to the world is too great for any forgiveness...One hates our fathers for having committed themselves to such a worship and wonders how they would have fancied god was kind.

Rebecca West after World War I

from "Hating God", Bernard Schweizer, The Chronicle Review, December 10, 2010