Apologies, loyal readers. I was remiss in not telling you that I'd be away for so long. I've spent the past few days frolicking in fourteen inches of fresh Vermont snow. I've done a little cross-country skiing and little sledding and a lot of sitting in front of a fire conversing and sipping hot chocolate and very little time anywhere in the vicinity of a computer.
I spent my holidays (my off-from work days) among family and friends in two houses, among assorted Quakers and Jews and Catholics and atheists, along with one Episcopalian and one woman whose sect has never quite been clear even though I know that it demands charity work in poor countries from her. We all somehow agreed to celebrate a secular Christmas, as we somehow do every year, with the religious sneaking off to a service here and there, and with trees and ornaments and hokey music and presents and more food than anyone could reasonably eat. Fortunately, we are not reasonable people.
The company I've kept has been as varied and as interesting as I could hope for--even though I've known every one of them for a long time. I've had interesting conversations both one-on-one and in group with two historians of science (medical science and technology, mostly), a fluid and heat flow engineer, a wildly heterodox economist, a just retired professional actress, a former opera singer, a country singer, a rock-'n-roll drummer, a contractor, a literary critic, a dry-cleaner, a bank VP, a former assistant secretary from the Carter Administration, an expert in Soviet affairs, an expert in Middle-East affairs (with special attention to Israel/Palestine relationships), a former head of a large foundation, a current member of the board of trustees of several corporations, two corporate presidents (one the full owner of her business, the other a very small shareholder in his), a state trooper, a lighthouse "operator", a real estate broker, a wine wholesaler, a dental hygienist, a nurse, an electrician contemplating starting his own company, a memorabilia collector, a computer programmer, a graphic designer, a former university Dean, a graduate student, a high school student, two elementary school students,one preschool student, one infant, one in-womb, and one shiftless teenager who has decided he'd rather not go to college right now (in all fairness to him, he's working two jobs--which is more than I can for myself at the same stage in life).
Some of those mentioned above overlap in a single individual, but all the above are ways that the people I've been with define themselves today i.e. all of the above are ways in which the family and friends with whom I spent the holidays make some sort of living or things they spend a fair amount of time working/playing at (everybody but the students and infants has actually been paid some form of compensation in the past two-years for doing or being something off the above list). I've left out several other careers that are no longer relevant (scallop-fisher, journal editor, and tall-ship rigger being scattered among the endless array of retail).
Nearly needless to say, it was all interesting, and they gave me many things to think about (and write about). But nothing was quite so entertaining as when I got up and pranced around the room flapping my arms and clucking like a chicken. That near to killed everybody; we didn't stop laughing for fifteen minutes and the fire almost went out--along with the windows. Why I was doing a chicken dance is a story that would lose everything in the telling, so I won't bother, but I fear I've defined the Christmas of '02. Wish you'd been there. But I understand that you had to send a little time with your equally fascinating family and friends. Hellfire, wish I'd been with you, and I'd have had the chance to meet them. Perhaps sometime this coming year.
Don't be a stranger, and I'll try to call you a bastard at least once a month. Much love, and may the New Year bring you Peace and Joy.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and over the next few weeks, there will be an outpouring of homage to Joe Strummer. We'll see his grim visage again, his rigid and uncompromising pose, his hostile stare, all dolled up with stark, aggressive headlines, coyly daring us to read the obits or pick up the magazines or watch the tv specials and remember what it was like to be young and angry when those two things still mattered. We'll read over and over about the Clash and what they meant. We'll read over and over about what the Clash should mean to us--when we are no longer young or angry. And all the words will all be wrong. They'll be wrong about the Clash and they'll be wrong about Joe Strummer.
We'll use this moment, this death of this idol, to bemoan our loss of youth, of intensity, of believing that what we do really makes a difference. We'll finally learn how many forty-year olds were inspired to so much lower heights. We'll be reminded that Brits were once rockers and that even punks borrowed from American idiom. We'll be reminded of unemployment and race riots and that music was once politics. We'll learn that the Clash, finally, are history.
And this outpouring about the Clash in the obits and the articles will be strange and untimely and, ultimately, out of focus. The Clash didn't die with Strummer as the Beatles died with Lennon. The Clash was already dead, killed by Strummer and his partners in crime: Mick Jones and Paul Simonon. The band ran its course and the players ended it and they never went back on the road, never cashed in, never caved in.
It's the pictures next to the stories that won't be wrong.
In every picture what we'll actually see is not just Joe Strummer, but the Clash. We'll see photo after photo of the band. We'll see that Strummer never appears alone (do you even know which one is Strummer?). We'll see, in the pictures accompanying every story, what the Clash stood for and what no other band has ever been able to capture. The Clash was not personalities or performers, was not Mick, Paul, Topper, or even Joe Strummer. The Clash was, simply and perfectly, the Clash--and nothing more.
Joe Strummer, husband and father and musician, was just a part of the greatest rock-and-roll band that ever played. And he walked away in order to live the rest of his life. We too should learn to live ours.
My Kentucky grandfather taught me a few things
in the too brief time we shared on this earth.
He taught me to listen closely when the heart sings,
that death is inevitably followed by birth.
He showed me that fish don't always rise to the bait,
and that the mighty and the strong don't always win.
He said that good things don't come to those who wait,
and that not even trying is the greatest sin.
He told me that it's one thing to always be picking fights,
And quite another to be a man who won't.
He taught me that every individual has rights,
And that, no matter what anybody says, states don't.
Everybody knows that when a thief looks at a saint he sees only pockets. It might be less obvious, but equally the case, that when a political scientist or policy pundit looks at a structural change in a society, they see only legislation--or a thousand points of light, or a concerted leadership effort, or an inevitable historical progression, etc. Which of these particulars is "responsible" for the change depends on a point of view . . . and you get my point.
We all have a tendency to rush and tumble toward judgements. We all attempt to apply the shoulder of that which we know well to turning the wheel of history. We all believe that our key to understanding will unlock every important portal.
In recent months, in the massive war effort to define the new ideological struggle and to map out the sides so that we all can know where we stand, there has been an effort to justify the incredible economic advancements of the US and the West through parallel social advances. Women, we have been told, are now partners in our history and are helping to drive our growth and this is to our glory. Look at how fortunate we are: It isn't just that treating women as equals is the right thing to do, but it has economic benefits too!
But why stop with women?
We, here in the US, are now in the midst of one of our periodic outbursts of self-congratulation and self-flagellation on the topic of race ("We've come so far; But we still have so far to go" and its infinite reassuring, nauseating variants). This time, we late capitalists will talk about civil rights and economic growth in the same breath, as we talk about everything now ("Its always already the economy, stupid"). Desegregation, which is really just another name for the liberties enshrined in the great Bill of Rights, leads to growth as men and women of all races and creeds have greater opportunities. It's a simple and comforting story and leaves out about half or nine-tenths.
And all of that bitterness is just an overwhelming aside to the following statement.
Technology is one of the engines driving social change.
Anyone reading this probably doesn't need to be told that, but is also owed some documents.
The impact of air conditioning on industry and on the economy, both North and South, black and white, woman and man, can hardly be overstated. There are several industries that depend upon stable temperatures and low humidity (you're looking at one). Furthermore, comfortable workers are more productive workers. Well, at least they're actually at work.
"Before air conditioning American life followed seasonal cycles determined by weather. Workers' productivity declined in direct proportion to the heat and humidity outside--on the hottest days employees left work early and businesses shut their doors."
AC also ushered in a fundamental change or two to the South and the vaunted "Southern Way of Life" since the wide-spread introduction of window units in the 1950s and 60s. Jim Cobb, a history professor at the University of Georgia, writes,
"Suddenly, it seemed, Southerners were 'indoor' rather than 'outdoor' people. . . . Better still, inside we could watch television, which had also made its debut in most southern homes during the 1950s. Ironically, by moving inside to cool down and tune in, we had increased our contact with the outside world at the expense of our contact with each other."
I hardly need to add anything to that, except to make the further point that net migration out of the South not only stopped with the introduction of air conditioning, but reversed--as any resident (or television image) of Atlanta or Houston could tell you.
Another professor of history, Raymond Arsenault, at the University of South Florida, sums it all up and gets in the best line about the change in the South, combining poignance and pathos with his own frigid air of irony, when he says "General Electric has proved a more devastating invader than General Sherman."
. . .
This article is not on the web, but is where all AC research should either start or lead.
Arsenault, Raymond. "The End of the Long Hot Summer: The Air Conditioner and Southern Culture." Journal of Southern History, 1984, vol. 50, no. 4, pp. 597-628.
Via CalPundit.
DEMOCRATS AND ECONOMIC PROSPERITY....Ronald Brownstein has a pretty good and thoughtful column about Trent Lott today in the LA Times. But the part that struck me [that is, CalPundit] actually had nothing to do with Lott:
The death of Jim Crow made possible the birth of the modern South; only after segregation fell did the South rise from endemic poverty and economic isolation.
I'd like to believe this unconditionally. However, I wonder if the development of air-conditioning didn't play as significant a role in the "Rise of the South" as desegregation?
And I wonder if desegregation didn't get a significant boost from the migration of morally uncomfortable Northerners to an air-conditioned South?
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; and that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed."
What separates the right and the left , broadly defined (and perhaps more clearly on the internet), in America is which of those two sentences gets the emphasis.
There are certainly extreme positions, positions which suggest that one end of the spectrum completely trumps the other, positions of much heat and, alas, unworkable or unjust solutions to the issues which plague us. There are certainly petty despots of either stripe who tarnish these golden phrases for ignoble ends, attempting to twist their candid reasoning, and oppressing the human heart. Most of us, however, muddle along between them, insecure in our devotions, oscillating back and forth as the dangers of the moment compel.
I would argue that these sentences cannot be and should not be alienated from one another, nor extracted from their humble context--which is each other. You can--and in fact do--have all those rights with which your simple humanity endows you, whether a government exists or whether a government grants you the opportunity to exercise them. To be fully able to exercise your rights, however, you need a government. But not just any government. You need a government derived from the consent of the governed, a government that will support, of all absurd things, its citizens' liberty, a government of, by, and for the people.
There is a "Party of Freedom" which, despite sometimes allowing our allegiance to be swayed toward other, additional concerns, has always embraced the paradox between rights and the authority to secure them. Too often, and too easily, we can allow ourselves to be distracted by our putative allies, those who insist that only the complete triumph of the one can guarantee the other. No matter what banner in the current struggle we nominally declare our own, we must remember to fight always for human dignity, to never forget what we owe those who fought before us, and to pass our love of freedom--and its difficult history--on to the next generation.
As the 7th day of December wanes and UNMOVIC prepares to read 12,000 pages and Mr Bush's Administration readies their rebuttals to whatever happens to be disclosed, it seems an appropriate moment to remember that old general Clausewitz.
His classic, worth re-reading every time we put young men and women on the sharp blade's edge of political policy, suggests quite early in the text that "The Aim is to Disarm the Enemy" (On War, Book I, Chapter I, Section 4).
The armchair strategists, the bloodthirsty and the threatened, the sincerely committed and the cautious, should be reminded that Weapons Inspection (and the destruction of any found), therefore, is the moral equivalent of war.
Those funny Europeans don't know how to measure, whether it be distance or volume or a response to terrorism.
Slightly more seriously, there are some real differences between the Americans and Europeans who count for something in the world, by which I mean the policy makers, those mighty movers and shakers, all the moles in the ministries, and the pundits and publishers and public intellectuals. You know: the ones who talk to each other while the rest of us are expected to listen.
Obviously any attempt to make general statements about these differences needs to be accompanied by qualifications, caveats, and clarifications. Assume them adequately made, and grant me a clear path to escape out of the corner into which I am about to paint myself. The one crucial thing that I do wish to make clear before continuing around this corner is that in what follows "Europe" stands in for the European Union and its member nations. The rest of Europe should be considered largely (although only provisionally) exempt. Onward!
The Europeans, those at least who have achieved the highest level of intellectual and political life in Europe are, for the most part, not religious. Not at all. They rarely even pay lip service to the idea that religion might be an important part of any life well-lived. Even the ostensible Catholics, who take their religion more seriously than anyone else in Europe takes theirs, are convinced that the social ritual of religion is the point and the purpose.
Perhaps this is because they imbibe their Kant with their mother's milk? Well, there are worse things and I wouldn't wholly object if the US thirsted a bit more for philosophy. Whatever the reason, these Euros don't take religion seriously and they wonder how any intelligent, educated person could.
This leads them to misunderstand the US and its leaders in a fundamental and very wide chasm way. Since they don't get the religious thing, they have a tendency to look askance, down the nose, crosseyed at those who actually seem to be, well, worshipping. No one can really believe all that mumbo jumbo, can they? (What do you imagine they think of a US President who says his favorite philosopher is Jesus?)
This leads these Europeans, men and women of some power in this world, to misunderstand another important and, to their eyes, confusing group now taking a turn on the world's stage. Our European friends also find it quite difficult to take radical Islam seriously. No one can really believe all that mumbo jumbo, can they?
If there sometimes seems to be a sordid whiff of the holy war in statements coming out of the US, it is because we understand what religion and the faith that follows means. We understand what it can lead men and women to do, both in the service of humanity and in the service of twisted and evil dreams. We know that the power to move men's souls is power indeed. We believe in the soul.
I am always struck by this difference in the two sides of the Atlantic after spending some time with European friends who are religious. Right now they do not necessarily support a war, either against Iraq or terror or other enemies real or imagined, but they do understand that the radical Islamists mean what they say.
. . .
I am not particularly religious myself and I doubt that there is a "God" (or "gods" for that matter). But I do believe in the ever upward striving of the human spirit. Without a goal for posterity, life is a bleaker and shallower thing. While I love Europe, I love it for its past--because that is what it shows me, sells me, tells me is important. I dread that Europe's golden and bloody past has left a permanent stain, and bleached the hope out of that continent's future.
What is the better life dreamed of in European dreams?
Is it only "No More War"?
There is no such thing as an individual human being.
The first week of December's New Yorker contains a brief but provocative essay by Malcolm Gladwell discussing three recent books about innovative groups (Live from New York, about the early years of "Saturday Night Live"; The Lunar Men, about the circle around Erasmus Darwin; and A Great Silly Grin, about British satire in the sixties). Tying together two outbursts of comedy and the social and political upheaval of the Industrial Revolution, Mr Gladwell uses Randall Collins' The Sociology of Philosophies. This tome charts some of the group interactions that have led to great changes in human thought and draws the general inspiration alluded to in my title.
Mr Gladwell's is an elegant and incisive piece of social criticism, enriching each of the works touched and giving to his readers a broad human theme to reflect upon. Towards the end of the piece, he comes back around to discussing the cast from S.N.L and what happens to all of us as we age, whether we happen to be people or institutions.
"At the same time, the special bonds that created the circle cannot last forever. Sooner or later, the people who slept together in every combination start to pair off. Those doing drugs together sober up (or die). Everyone starts going to bed at eleven o'clock, and bit by bit the intimacy that fuels innovation slips away. . . . Today's cast is not less talented. It is simply more professional."
Perhaps this is also why so much startling innovation is a product of the young? On the one obvious hand, the young don't have nearly as much invested in the old order, they can think wild and crazy thoughts because they want to shake the tree of knowledge just to see what falls off.
But the young also have far less interest in a good night's solitary sleep. They have the boiling energy and the furious need to connect, to smash together bodies and thoughts, and to fan the ideas that spark off. Revolutions--of whatever poor sort--are born out of the fires ignited.
Perhaps this is why--in our age of shared parenting--people so often slide toward the conservative (and it need not be a political slide) when they have children? Perhaps this is why starting that "true" career (the job that is both just a job, and also your life) causes people to moderate their behavior and temper their mind's wild flights? Those people (...I) no longer get out quite so much, no longer spend long evenings with a bottle or three and a friend or four, no longer greet the sunrise as a latecomer.
Perhaps this is why academia often seems so radical? People in the academic life--daily surrounded by young sparks bursting into conflagration--accept a certain style of challenge to the status quo as a simple matter of course.
Perhaps the internet allows--will allow--innovative intimacy.
This article by Richard Webster from the New Statesman is interesting enough to recommend, but the real treasure is the collection of links at the end. Read the articles, think about them, wrestle with the implications.
There are opportunities for understanding collected here, opportunities for peace. Don't let your porcupine get up or your blinders fall until you've thought about the choice between violence and reconciliation and the steps between them. Then, and only then, you can go back to being a cynical, uncompromising bastard.
From Arts & Letters Daily.
Polly Toynbee went to Afghanistan and reported what she saw in the Guardian.
Ousting the Taliban was worth it. Everyone says that now. Ms Toynbee, writing in the Guardian, makes a nod toward the politics of being against the Taliban now. She needn't.
Afghan friends of ours, people who lived and worked in Afghanistan under the Taliban, were calling for US bombing in late September '01. The mood of the country was that here, now the US had a pretext to destroy the Taliban and liberate Afghanistan. No matter the cost on the ground, no matter the pain of the innocent, this was the battle worth fighting and dying for.1
What does Afghanistan need now?
Reconstruction is the watchword. But what does that mean? I will begin to answer that question with my own thoughts based upon my experience and that of my colleagues in the development field, not with what is being done or being recommended by the well intentioned.
No one ever develops someone else. Each country must develop itself. Outsiders can provide some types of assistance, but should never assume that people lack capacities or the capability to do the necessary work.
The international community does have to do something high profile, something that will get good press, something that will, on the one hand, make voters back home feel good about their generosity and, on the other, show Afghans and the world that something is being done. Hospitals and schools are always good for this purpose. But this, building these buildings, is not nearly enough, by any means.
Amazingly, hospitals and schools which are not appropriate to the circumstances are built all the time. Sometimes there is no electricity to the building or oil to keep the generators running. Sometimes there are no roads for the ambulances, but a great emergency room no one will ever use. Sometimes the school is so big that there aren't enough teachers to staff it--and no budget left over to buy books or paper or pencils. Ten good, sustainable hospitals are far better than one brilliant one which needs a large, trained staff and ongoing, massive influxes of assistance to continue--and cost about the same to build initially.
Often people talk about providing housing for returning refugees. Often this is a mistake. Ms Toynbee notes that markets and businesses have sprung up everywhere. They'll do that if there is no (or even low) conflict. She also mentions that people are rebuilding in some places with mud brick. People are building their own houses and their own business buildings. There is no reason for the international community to build these things.
There is considerable, unglamorous infrastructure that is necessary to run a hospital or school--or a town or country. Power plants for electricity, roads for the also necessary ambulances and school buses, and waste disposal systems to help preserve the environment are the big three. All can, and should, be extended to houses and small businesses.
1 This was the honest voice of Afghanistan. How could this voice be missed or dismissed as propaganda?
Great power, in this case US power, is very good at not hearing other voices, good at speaking for those who are thought to be incapable of speaking for themselves. Legitimacy demands that a voice be heard, a voice that represents the "people". But the "voice" of Afghanistan calling out to the US, to the world, for succor was propaganda. That voice came from the fighters of the Northern Alliance, from warriors that many Afghans--and critics of American power too--see as thugs and not as liberators.
The people were crying out for liberation, asking literally for bombs, but that voice was never sought out by our power--just in case it was saying the wrong things. And the case for helping Afghanistan was made a little weaker, even if it was the right thing to do, even if it was worth it.