The third of postmodernism’s triumvirate of stooges, Michel Foucault (1926-1984), focuses his indignation on common sense because it carries “the tyranny of goodwill, the obligation to think ‘in common’ with others, the domination of a pedagogical model, and most importantly—the exclusion of stupidity.”
If like me you’ve read Francis Schaeffer and Allan Bloom, and if you’ve pondered C.S. Lewis’s “The Poison of Subjectivism,” you’re aware that the central intellectual battle of our time rages around Reason. Does reason give us a window on reality, something conccrete on which we can fully rest our weight, or is everything “subjective”; is one person’s world entirely different from another’s? Is thinking worth anything, or must passion rule all things?
My friend Mark Goldblatt, novelist, columnist, and educator, provides a useful guide in his recent book, I Feel, Therefore I Am: The Triumph of Woke Subjectivism. The book offers a short historical overview of how the Enlightenment came to enshrine Reason, and then how a rising tide of Subjectivism gradually infiltrated our institutions of higher education, turning the culture of the mind into streams of thought that must ultimately run dry.
He examines Critical Race Theory, showing how it employs Subjectivist philosophy to exalt feeling over fact, turning the quest for knowledge into a quest for raw power (because once reason is dead, we can’t have a discussion. All that’s left is a shouting match. And after shouting come fists). He goes on to outline how the Me-Too movement corrupted its honorable ideals by abandoning objective standards of justice, and how more and more people, in the spirit of transgenderist dogmatism, are now destroying their own bodies.
He ends by suggesting some means by which our schools of liberal arts, having become divinity schools of Woke religion, might be amputated and allowed to wither, before they can poison the whole body.
This book is only six months old, but it might possibly already be too late. The schools of the STEM disciplines, in which the author places much hope, seem to be already in the process of corruption, embracing Woke mathematics and physics (Want to fly in an airplane designed according to Woke math principles? You first; I’ll wait).
Still, I Feel, Therefore I Am is a worthwhile introduction for the thoughtful reader desiring some points of reference in the churning sea of Relativist culture. I enjoyed it and recommend it. Cautions for some rough language.
One morning Karlsefni’s men saw something shiny above a clearing in the trees, and they called out. It moved and proved to be a one-legged creature which darted down to where the ship lay tied. Thorvald, Eirik the Red’s son, was at the helm and the one-legged man shot an arrow into his intestine. Thorvald drew the arrow out and spoke: “Fat paunch that was. We’ve found a land of fine resources, though we’ll hardly enjoy much of them.” Thorvald died from the wound shortly after. The one-legged man then ran off back north. They pursued him and caught glimpses of him now and then. He then fled into a cove and they turned back. (Eirik the Red’s Saga)
I hope I don’t cause any embarrassment when I publicly thank my friend (and our frequent commenter) Dale Nelson, formerly of Mayville State University in North Dakota, for these books. Along with his wife Dorothea, Dale has gifted me – entirely to my surprise – with the full, boxed set of The Complete Sagas of Icelanders. It’s published by Leifur Eiriksson Publishing in Reykjavik, and is a collection of brand-new scholarly translations, carefully selected and edited by a team of scholars.
When you read the title, The Complete Sagas of Icelanders, you’ll probably assume, as I did, that this is a collection of all the Icelandic sagas. Once I’d read the introductions (there are several) I realized that that would involve a very large collection indeed. It would have to include legendary sagas of pre-historic legends, as well as later sagas about bishops, saints and courtly love. What the editors here mean by “the sagas of Icelanders” is in fact the classic sagas – the tales of the Icelandic settlers, heroes, and feuding in the Viking Age.
Just my meat, in fact. I have a good number of saga translations in my library already, but this collection gives me a set of uniformly high-quality translations living up to the latest standards of criticism. I’m delighted to have it.
In this post I’ll review the first two translations in the first volume – Eirik the Red’s Saga and The Saga of the Greenlanders.
These two sagas are (as the editors freely confess) not the best, considered purely as texts. What we have is two different accounts based on the same original events, but developed into two highly divergent narratives. (This is embarrassing, I must admit, for someone like me who spends a lot of time defending the use of sagas as historical sources. But nobody’s saying the saga texts didn’t suffer alteration with time – only that they contain useful information, which certainly remains true even of the Vinland sagas. We’ve got an archaeological dig in Newfoundland to prove it.)
Generalizing a great deal, I can say that Eirik the Red’s Saga (I should mention that the editors here have chosen a different manuscript source from most previous translations, so this version is a little different from other published editions) describes Leif Eiriksson discovering Vinland (America) by accident, blown off course in a storm while sailing to Greenland from Norway. Later the focus switches to Thorfinn Karlsefni the Icelander, and his wife Gudrid.
The Saga of the Greenlanders, on the other hand, attributes the first sighting of land in Vinland to Bjarni Herjolfsson, who is similarly blown off course, but never touches land. Leif later buys his ship and makes a voyage of exploration, followed by two of his brothers, and Thorfinn Karlsefni, and finally his sanguine sister Freydis.
When I was young, most historians considered The Saga of the Greenlanders earlier and more reliable than Eirik the Red’s Saga. Today I’m given to understand that historians consider both of them useful in parts. Both, it must be admitted, are also garbled in places, and contain preposterous elements.
What they have in common, it seems to me, is the fact that the story of Vinland is in a way secondary. The discovery is recounted, not primarily for its importance as a watershed historical event, but as a family achievement.
What lies behind both versions (it seems to this reader) is the fact that it was written by, and for, the descendants of the married couple Thorfinn Karlsefni and Gudrid the Far-Traveled. Both narratives mention (as briefly as possible) the fact that Gudrid was descended from slaves. This was embarrassing in that culture – though pretty common in Icelandic society, many of whose Norse pioneers had married slave women. Great pains are taken in both versions to explain to the reader that, in spite of her low birth, Gudrid was recognized as a remarkable person very early in her life. Then we are told of her many adventures, culminating in her pilgrimage to Rome late in life and her death as an anchoress, a highly respected woman.
This professional translator finds no fault in the translation here. I’m not qualified to judge how well the Icelandic text is interpreted, but I know a clunky translation when I see one, and these two are very good, very smooth. I might also mention that the physical volumes are sturdily bound in signatures between handsome leather-covered boards, and the text, printed on heavy, acid-free paper, is in a highly readable font.
(One point that amused me is that, though the publisher uses Icelandic spelling in calling itself Leifur Eiriksson Publishing, the translators chose to use the more familiar form of “Leif” in the text.)
The Complete Sagas of Icelanders is an expensive set, but if you can afford it, I recommend it highly.
I read The Diary of Anne Frank in sixth grade and don’t remember thinking much about it. Something of the oppressive air stuck with me. Something of the final terror. One of my daughters read it last year and went on a rant against it. Maybe I read an abridged version, because I don’t remember reacting to any nasty thoughts or talk of her period. I think I would have noticed something like that in sixth grade. Then again, I could have drifted into a fog here and there, not realizing what I wasn’t reading.
I read Elie Wiesel’s Night for the first time recently. The author won a Nobel Prize in 1986 “for being a messenger to mankind: his message is one of peace, atonement and dignity.” While reading, I thought he had won the prize for literature for this book. Its sparse prose is marvelous, gripping, and conveys much of the dread of his experience.
In the opening pages, Wiesel’s family and neighbors didn’t know what was coming. Two people tried to warn them, but they couldn’t believe the outrageous truth. Who would do take 100s of people into the woods to dig their own graves before shooting them? Men couldn’t do that to each other. When the Germans came to town, one officer brought chocolate to his Jewish “host.” See? The Third Reich isn’t so bad. Many of them clung to any scrap of human decency they could imagine. Even when others were being killed, surely they would be shown mercy.
Such fantasies about the essence of mankind persist throughout the world and are one reason the museum at Auschwitz-Birkenau exists. Many, perhaps most, would say loving your neighbor as yourself is fairly easy if you just try it. They don’t recognize that Christ called this the second commandment, related and subordinate to the first. The first one they would call a nice premise or its own kind of fantasy, and there we have the seed for the hatred Weisel called an endless night.
What else do we have to talk about?
Spring Books: Goodreads has a long list of anticipated books. Some of these look good, not that I’ll ever get around to ’em. My supply of round to’em is a mite limited.
Writing: Jenny Jackson, an accomplished editor with many years of experience, suggests editors make terrible writers. They are used to calls shots, not executing the shots called.
College Closure: The King’s College in New York City has been running deficits for years and experimenting with online education without success. It will likely close by the end of the current semester.
Culture War:Professor Elizabeth Stice argues for living in the truth. “Those who think our culture can be changed only by those with obvious power should consider an alternative philosophical perspective. In 1978 Václav Havel published an essay titled “The Power of the Powerless.” Havel was writing from behind the iron curtain in Czechoslovakia, in a society he described as ‘post-totalitarian.’
“For Havel, the Soviet system was much bigger than the imposition of rules from a handful of powerful figures. It had come to rely on its own subjects for perpetuation. Using the example of a greengrocer who unthinkingly puts a ‘Workers of the World Unite’ sign in the shop window simply because life is easier that way, Havel explained that the people in Czechoslovakia were engaging in ‘auto-totality.'”
Photo: John Margolies Roadside America photograph archive (1972-2008), Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division.
Is that any way to have fun? How would your mother feel if she knew you were doing this? She’d cry. She really would. And that’s how you know it’s fun. Anything that makes your mother cry is fun. Sigmund Freud wrote all about this. It’s a well-known fact.
I am feeling a little grim about the world these days, so I thought I’d read something funny. Were I a better man I’d probably have read some Wodehouse, but I listened to the little guy on my left shoulder and bought the cheapest P. J. O’Rourke I could find.
Disclaimer: The ideas and opinions expressed in this book do not necessarily represent those of the reviewer, this blog, or of real persons, living or dead.
When you read the late P. J. O’Rourke, you are guaranteed two things – hilarity, and offense. Republican Party Reptile is probably one of the extreme cases in his oeuvre, because this is National Lampoon-era O’Rourke, young and iconoclastic and frequently stoned on something. Nothing – absolutely nothing – is immune to a joke, including lots of things we (rightly) no longer consider funny. This is how it was in the ‘80s. Deal with it.
In this series of essays, written for various publications, O’Rourke writes about a wide variety of subjects. A condensed history of the world. A user report on the drug Ecstasy. A cruise through Soviet Russia with an earnest group of American lefties. A hostage situation in Beirut. A trans-continental road trip in a Ferrari. Sex acts in moving cars (this one deserves a special content warning). Men’s hats (I particularly liked that one). And finally, an epic history of the author’s own life, recast as a medieval war chronicle. For some reason.
Some of these essays have aged better than others. Some are frankly offensive and could never be published today. (Evangelical Christians come in for a single insult. I believe O’Rourke softened his views later in life.) One detects the subtle influence of various chemical stimulants, legal and illegal, from time to time.
But it was funny. Republican Party Reptile made me laugh. Most of the subjects of ridicule had it coming. Lots of cautions are in order for language and subject matter.
Drugs are a one-man birthday party. You don’t get any presents you didn’t bring.
My friend Gene Edward Veith has a review up at the Acton Institute. He reports on the book, White Knights in the Black Orchestra, by Tom Dunkel. Although the book is not primarily an examination of conservatives in wartime Germany, it does make it plain that the conservative conspiracy to kill Hitler was much bigger than Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his circle, and that German conservatives constituted a major, and serious, challenge to the Third Reich. He writes.
My impression had always been that Bonhoeffer was caught up in a quixotic and poorly planned attempt by a small group of German aristocrats and military officers at the very end of the war, and that his role was minimal, basically that of a courier. But Dunkel shows that the Black Orchestra conspiracy began in the earliest days of Hitler’s regime, that it penetrated to the highest levels of the German war machine, and that it carried out many anti-Nazi missions, some of which had an impact on the outcome of the war…..
Meanwhile, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was battling the so-called German Christians, who wished to Nazify the Protestant state church by turning Christianity into a cultural religion (as liberal theologians were already doing) and expunging its “Jewish elements” to the point of removing the Old Testament from the Bible altogether. (This, too, was made feasible by piggybacking on the work of generations of liberal Bible scholars who had succeeded in undermining biblical authority within the state church.)….
That National Socialism is thought of today as an extreme kind of conservatism is one of the biggest victories of Marxist propaganda. This book shows that Hitler and his followers were radical revolutionaries, who sought to liquidate—not conserve—the traditional Western values of faith, morality, and freedom.
Dunkel does not play up the conservative and Christian angle as such, beyond saying that the conspirators “tended to be politically conservative to the bone” and describing the key figures as devout Christians.
Professor Joseph McRae Mellichamp of the University of Alabama, speaking at conference at Yale University to an audience that contained the Novel Price winner Sir John Eccles, famous for his discovery of the synapse, together with a number of the pioneers of AI, said: “It seems to me that lot of needless debate could be avoided if AI researchers would admit that there are fundamental differences between machine intelligence and human intelligence — differences that cannot be overcome by any amount of research.” In other words, to cite the succinct title of Mellichamp’s talks, “‘the artificial’ in artificial intelligence is real.”
What was the last thing you heard about artificial intelligence? Maybe it was about ChatGPT, an open AI web app that invites people to ask the computer to write anything they can think of.
Chris Hutchinson on Twitter asked it to rewrite the Gettysburg Address in the style of the psychedelic funk band Sly and the Family Stone. The AI said it would be disrespectful to rewrite such a historic speech in this style. Then he asked for a rewrite of the speech as a haiku, and the AI complied. Later, another user was able to get the speech in the style of Sly and the Family Stone by wording the request differently (and possibly by his preceding requests). Maybe ChatGPT had a change of heart after refusing the first request.
Educators have been worried that this program (and others produced in its wake) will allow students to task their computers with writing papers for them with minimal chance of detection, but educators are prove to worrying and are probably assuming too much AI language proficiency at this point. Writers worry this program threatens their jobs, and those who work for any of the click-bait sites on pop culture, movies, and games should worry. The garbage prose ChatGPT spits out is totally on par with their daily posts.
You won’t find this in Lennox’s book, 2084: Artificial Intelligence and the Future of Humanity. It was published in 2020. Developments in this field will be fast and fierce (no, frenetic. Wait, it’s fast and feverish, right? Fulminous?) Lennox couldn’t deal with the very latest news, but he does deal with the ideas and claims many in the field of artificial intelligence are making.
Current advances in AI have sparked hopes and fears similar to George Orwell’s 1984, but instead of INGSOC controlling our society, it would be supercomputers that had developed themselves beyond their creators’ imagination. If it came to reality by 2084, supporters ask, wouldn’t it be poetic?
Lennox explains some of the benefits of current machine learning and some of the changes we see coming as robots take over select jobs. For example, the freight industry could be transformed by trucks that drove themselves. (How would they refuel? Could criminals take advantage of them?) He also explains some of the dangers we can already see in AI’s current uses. China’s surveillance state already looks resembles an episode of Black Mirror in which approved behavior and social media influence controls a society of people constantly monitored by unseeing eyes. Facial recognition programs may violate privacy by design and are only as good as they are accurate. False matches have already gotten a few people in trouble.
The city of Halifax, Nova Scotia, settled by Britons in 1749, has always held an important role in maritime trade. The video above describes the remarkable story of the horrific disaster that destroyed one square mile of the port city and damaged other communities miles away. Thousands were killed and injured by the results of the largest man-made explosion prior to December 6, 1917, when the Mont-Blanc destroyed Halifax.
Sad, sad news. The historian Paul Johnson died today. He was born in 1928, and was a practicing Roman Catholic. He wrote more than 40 books, as well as innumerable articles. Originally a leftist, Johnson grew disenchanted with the Left, objecting especially to its blinkered moral relativism, a theme that runs through all his works. His books Modern Times and Intellectuals were formative for me (I delighted in his takedown of Ibsen in Intellectuals), and I also appreciated The Birth of the Modern.
The English Spectator has a memorial post today here. It includes a quote from an article he wrote for them on moral relativism:
As I see it, the Satan who confronted Jesus during this encounter is the personification of moral relativism, and the materialism which creates it. What we are shown is not merely ‘all the kingdoms of the world’ but the entire universe, in all its colossal extent, reaching backwards and forwards into infinity and beyond the powers of the human mind to grasp except in mathematical equations. We are told: this came into existence, not by an act of creation, but as a result of the laws of physics, which have no moral purpose whatever — or indeed any purpose. There is no conceivable room for God in this process, and mankind is an infinitely minute spectator of this futile process about which he can do nothing, being of no more significance than a speck of dust or a fragment of rock. If you will accept this view of our fate, then there is just a chance that by applying the laws of science to the exclusion of any other considerations, and by dismissing the notion of God, or the spirit, or goodness, or any other absolute notion of truth and right and wrong, we shall be able marginally to improve the human condition during the minute portion of time our race occupies our doomed planet.’
Rest in peace, Mr. Johnson. You’ll be much missed.
The poor—the slaves who really stoop under the burden of life—have often been mad, scatter-brained and cruel, but never hopeless. That is a class privilege, like cigars. Their drivelling literature will always be a ‘blood and thunder’ literature, as simple as the thunder of heaven and the blood of men.
On a friend’s recommendation, I picked up the Project Gutenberg version of G. K. Chesterton’s The Defendant. (My link, of course, is to a version you’ll have to pay for. You think we’re running a charity here?) It’s pretty standard Chesterton, which is to say, eccentrically stimulating.
The book’s title, as the author himself admits in the Foreword, is awkwardly put. Chesterton does not stand in his own defense here, but in defense of various topics he has chosen for no other reason than that they’re out of fashion (or were at the time). Subjects include: “Penny Dreadful” novels, skeletons, publicity, nonsense, “ugly things,” slang, detective stories, and patriotism. It helps, in reading, to have some general idea of intellectual fashions around the turn of the 20th Century. Although Christianity is mentioned, this is not one of Chesterton’s most Christian (or Catholic) works.
The Defendant isn’t one of the most memorable books in G. K.’s ouvre, but it’s definitely worth reading. There are excellent moments:
“There is a road from the eye to the heart that does not go through the intellect. Men do not quarrel about the meaning of sunsets; they never dispute that the hawthorne says the best and wittiest thing about the spring.”
“Scripture says that one star differeth from another in glory, and the same conception applies to noses.”
I am no longer a young man. Occasionally, when I haven’t been dulling my reason sufficiently, I think about death. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that it’s not being dead that bothers me (especially as I believe in Heaven), but rather the actual process of dying that I find daunting. Seems like a pretty stressful exercise to put an old person through.
So when I found a deal on a Christian book called Real Near Death Experience Stories (by Randy Kay and Shaun Tabatt), I figured there might be some comfort in it.
It was comforting, for a Christian reader. Unfortunately, I didn’t find it awfully convincing.
The book consists of transcriptions of interviews conducted on the authors’ podcast, plus an introductory chapter about near death experiences in general. Everybody involved, the authors and their guests alike, seem sincere and seem to be people of good will. They tell lovely stories about how they’ve experienced death or near-death, and the wonderful (occasionally frightening) things they saw in Heaven (and in one case, in Hell).
Let me be clear. I absolutely believe in Heaven and Hell. I believe that Heaven is a place of eternal bliss, in the presence of the Triune God. I believe that Hell is a place where the unredeemed will suffer for eternity. So I don’t doubt that part.
It’s the extras. Having described their “go toward the light” experiences and the joys and beauties of Heaven, in several cases the interviewees go on to proclaim spiritual secrets (claiming in some cases that they have new revelations for the church in the end times). Tips on how to make it easier for miracles to happen in your life. That sort of thing.
It all sounded familiar to me. I used to hear this kind of thing a lot back in the ‘70s, during the Jesus Movement. All these stories were going around about miracles and visions and prophecies – which always happened somewhere else, never here. And the big message of it all was that Jesus was coming soon – certainly before the end of ‘80s or thereabouts.
For a lot of people, I think, the failure of these prophecies was an important element in their complete loss of faith. I got the idea, when I was reading science fiction, that 70% of the SiFi writers of my generation were embittered former Jesus Freaks. I was blessed to have a better scriptural grounding than these people, and I held onto my faith.
But when the interviewees in this book tell me, for instance, that Jesus in Heaven has blue eyes, or when another tells me that we have to let our “spirits” rule our “brains,” and that contemporary praise music is an essential weapon against demons, I am dubious.
I don’t really endorse the book Near Death Experience Stories. I have no doubt the authors (and the interviewees) are sincere. They’re probably even doing some good. But I don’t have confidence in them. “Let the prophet who has a dream tell the dream, but let him who has my word speak my word faithfully. What has straw in common with wheat? declares the LORD.” (Jeremiah 23:28, ESV)
