Month: November 2016
How to Begin the Healing
Frank Luntz in the New York Times:
For decades, that healing has begun on election night with a concession speech. The vanquished candidate, usually surrounded by family and friends, accepts defeat with remarkable grace and dignity, and asks supporters to accept the will of the people: “We’ve been around for 240 years. We’ve had free and fair elections. We’ve accepted the outcomes when we may not have liked them, and that is what must be expected of anyone.”
I know that language works because it came from Mrs. Clinton in the third presidential debate, and it was her best debate moment, according to the focus-group session for CBS News. The concession speech is a trademark of our democracy, and we are stronger for it. Let us hope we don’t have to wait hours or days to hear it.
More here.
Islamophobia killed my brother. Let’s end the hate
The Supermanagerial Reich
Ajay Singh Chaudhary and Raphaële Chappe in the Los Angeles Review of Books:
Before Hitler achieved his genocidal powers, there were years of what we would now call “intense partisan bickering,” decreasing prosperity, and violence in the streets. In the end, Hitler cobbled together a rickety coalition of business-minded technocrats, traditional conservatives, military interests, and his own radical ethno-nationalists into a plausible government. As the new government consolidated its power, thousands of communists and trade unionists were subjected to harsh suppression and were among the first to be shipped away to what would eventually become the concentration camps. And yet for a time, life for the overwhelming majority of Germans — even briefly for German Jews — went on largely as it had in the Weimar era. There was clearly a new regime in town, but most Germans got up in the mornings in the mid-to-late 1930s and went to work, just as they had in the 1920s. January through March of 1933 was not 1776, 1789, 1791, 1917, or even 1979. Far from the world turning upside down, things were strangely continuous for many Germans as though nothing much had happened at all. For a few Germans, things were astoundingly better.
With the global rise of demagogues of the far-right like Donald Trump, Marine Le Pen, Viktor Orban, Narendra Modi, and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, “fascism” is on the tip of everyone’s tongues.
More here.
Please vote!
Writing in the Age of the Ultra-Unreal
What are we to make of contemporary Chinese reality? Political scientists have their way of looking at things, as do economists, historians, sociologists, and philosophers. Make no mistake, we fiction writers have our way of looking at the world too. Only the fiction writer’s way of looking at the world is not just one more to add to our list. The fiction writer incorporates all ways of looking at the world into one. It is a compound eye. If Magic Realism was the way in which Latin American authors presented their view of their reality, then Ultra-Unreal Realism should be our name for the literature through which the Chinese regard their reality. The Chinese word “chaohuan” (ultra-unreal) is something of a play on the word “mohuan” (magic), as in “mohuan xianshizhuyi” (magic realism)— “mohuan” is “magical unreal,” and “chaohuan” is “surpassing the unreal.” In the 1980s, when China was starting to open up to the world, Latin American literature, with Gabriel García Márquez as the representative, poured into China. When we read “magic realism,” it seemed familiar, it seemed close to us, and that is because in their suffering and their difficult, incredible histories, Chinese people and Latin Americans have a lot in common. Indeed, in the 1980s we often spoke of China as a place of “magic realism.” But since the 1990s, and especially in the past dozen years or so, China is no longer that place; it is now a place of the “ultra-unreal.”
Or maybe in China this has always been the case.
more here.
The ruse that gave rise to the spiritualist movement
With entrepreneurial sharpness, Leah moved herself, Maggie, and Kate into a house in Rochester where, for a dollar each, visitors could attend a séance with them. It was an instant hit. The Fox sisters’ fame as spirit mediums spread so quickly that they soon performed to packed theaters in New York, New England, and beyond. It marked a shift in popular attitudes toward the paranormal. Two hundred years earlier, a couple of adolescent females who claimed to be in conversation with the dead may well have been burned alive as witches; in the mid-nineteenth century they became show-business celebrities. Most who came to see them were happy to believe the Fox girls were the real deal, though Maggie in particular was subject to some terrifying abuse from those who thought her either a fraud or a heretic. In Troy, New York, she was even the victim of an attempted kidnapping by a group of men who seemed offended by the sisters’ show. For Maggie and Kate, children who had started this as a prank to enliven the dullness of their daily routine, it was too much. As early as November 1849 they tried to bring the circus to an end, spelling out “we will now bid you farewell” with their toe joints during a séance. For two weeks the spirits remained silent; their reappearance was testament to Leah’s unshakable belief that the show must go on, and her formidable skill at ensuring that it would.
Even had they stopped, it wouldn’t have slowed the juggernaut they had set in motion. By 1850, “rapping” had become a nationwide craze. That October, the New Haven Journal reported that there were forty families in upstate New York who claimed to have the same gifts as the Foxes, and hundreds more ranging from Virginia to Ohio.
more here.
no matter what happens, I had fun
It’s been quite a campaign, hasn’t it? Just think of all that has happened over the past 16 months. I’ve traveled all over the country, spoken to millions of people, and my campaign has gotten the entire nation talking about illegal immigrants, radical Islamic terror, violent crime, and so much more. Obviously, nothing would make me happier than for Americans to go to the polls and choose me as their next president. But regardless of what our nation decides tomorrow, at least I can say that I had fun.
Whether I win or lose, the bottom line is that this whole thing has been a really, really good time for me. Honestly, I enjoyed every minute of it.
Right from the beginning, when I announced my candidacy, I stirred up all kinds of deep-seated passions with my remarks about Mexican Americans, and I still can’t help but smile every time I think back on it. That was fun.
more here.
She’s Ready
Emma Green in The Atlantic:
She’s ready.
But beneath the speakers’ sangfroid, behind their swagger about Trump and confidence in Hillary and total conviction that she will win on Tuesday, there were hints that this has not, in fact, been eight years of unmitigated success in Washington, and that many Americans do not, in fact, see this election primarily as a historic moment for women. A lot of people, including many of those in Pennsylvania, do not see this as day to be celebrated and relished, but a relief to be done with. Clinton clearly has fans. They came out en mass on Monday night. But if she does, in fact, become president—which looks likely, but is by no means assured—she will take on a country that is right now not “together,” but terribly sundered.
More here.
When It Comes to Success, Age Really Is Just a Number
Benedict Carey in The New York Times:
Now, a big-data analysis of scientific careers appearing in the journal Science finds a host of factors that have nothing to do with age or early stardom. It is, they suggest, a combination of personality, persistence and pure luck, as well as intelligence, that leads to high-impact success — at any age. “The bottom line is: Brother, never give up. When you give up, that’s when your creativity ends,” said Albert-Laszlo Barabasi, who with Roberta Sinatra led a team of researchers who conducted the analysis. Both were physicists at Northeastern University in Boston. Dr. Sinatra has since moved to Central European University in Budapest. Previous work had found that a similar combination of elements lay behind the success of very top performers in a variety of fields. The new study illustrates that the same forces are at play at all levels of a discipline: the student, the young professional, the midcareer striver and beyond, to those old enough to wonder if their hand is played out.
More here.
Tuesday Poem
The Children of the Poor
What shall I give my children? Who are poor,
Who are adjudged the leastwise of the land,
Who are my sweetest lepers, who demand
No velvet and no velvety velour;
But who have begged me for a brisk contour,
Crying out that they are quasi, contraband
Because unfinished, graven by a hand
Less than angelic, admirable or sure.
My hand is stuffed with mode, design, device,
But I lack access to my proper stone.
And plentitude of plan shall not suffice
Nor grief, nor love shall be enough alone
To ratify my little halves who bear
Across an autumn freezing everywhere.
.
Gwendolyn Brooks
from Poet’s Choice
Time Life Books, 1962
.
Democratic Rehab
by Scott F. Aikin and Robert B. Talisse
As the current election cycle grinds to its finish, we easily see the toll it has taken on us. As a democratic nation, we are fatigued. We are so exhausted by our politics that it has become a common theme on the news channels and the late night comedy shows. Keeping up with the latest scandal, press release, spin, poll, and decision from governmental investigative institutions has worn us down. Moreover, the months of daily demands for outrage, disgust, and indignation have left the nation drained. Were such a thing conceptually possible, a clever politician would mandate a moratorium on politics beginning on November 9.
There is good news and bad news about our weariness. The bad news is that many of the items that have consumed the citizenry's attention of late have sapped us in a way that has diluted our trust in democracy itself. It is a common observation among democracy's enthusiasts that democracy is, even at its best, hard to love. But it really shouldn't be this easy to despise. The country has spent months feeding on a forced diet of doomsday politics, with each candidate and nearly every political officeholder given an abundance of reasons for thinking that November 8, 2016 marks the beginning of the End Times for democracy. When this message is accompanied by an “unless” clause that conveniently identifies the speaker, his Party, of his favored candidate as the country's only savior, the nausea is only exacerbated. The full-tilt political season, now arguably in its fourteenth consecutive month, has been not only something difficult to endure. It has provided good reason to wonder whether self-government is worth all the psychological trauma.
The good news comes on a few fronts, but is in no case untarnished. The first is that things are almost over. The country votes tomorrow. That brings an end to the phone calls and the advertisements and all of the unbelievably hostile discussions on television news channels.
Letter to my Children on the Eve of Elections
by Shadab Zeest Hashmi
You all came home in rear-facing car seats, swaddled in blankets and matching caps, different colors, different years, but from the same hospital, about ten miles away from here. Each of you was less than a week old at circumcision; Babay looked away at that unbearable moment when you were clamped down for the operation while I learned to cradle your head with one hand and dip your pacifier in sugar water with the other; if you rejected the pacifier, I dipped my finger in sugar water and let you suck on it—all the while speaking to you and praying the Qul in your ear. In those few minutes of excruciating pain for us all, I discovered the emboldening surge of what they call the maternal instinct; I discovered my power to protect and soothe, my voice and touch suddenly transformed by some visceral spell—an empowerment like no other.
Since then, I’ve learned that “rahm” or “womb” is the root of “ArRahmaan,” the most exalted of the ninety-nine names of God; Divine compassion is exemplified in the mother’s instinct to protect and nurture. All the years I’ve been raising you, I’ve trusted this love to guide me. I’ve taught you Islamic values, I’ve taught you American values. I’ve taught you that, contrary to the dominant picture, these values are aligned with each other: respect for divergent beliefs, a strong work ethic, a sense of egalitarianism and justice, cultivating independent thought while engaging in meaningful dialogue, stewardship of the planet, are part of both the Islamic and the American ethos. The world you have grown up in has been savage in acute ways, ways that history will eventually dissect and explain, but you, young Muslims, may arguably be the primary target of the war-terrorism binary which has resulted in a chilling polarization. Against this rising and brutal divide, I’ve taught you that your Muslim-American identity is inherently harmonious and that you must develop an immunity to the poisons of ignorance, politically motivated prejudice and manufactured fear of the other. And that there is no better anti-poison than reading; read widely, read deeply— remember the first Quranic word: “Iqra!” or “Read!”
Truth in the Age of Trump
by Patrick Lee Miller
These were famous men who traveled the Greek world selling their power with words. Words are always potent tools, but more so in democratic societies such as classical Athens, where political office can be acquired by making speeches. When you can manipulate words, you can sway crowds. The Sophists became rich, and in a few cases powerful, by promising to make their customers masters of words. As Plato shows, their expertise was an ability to bullshit, in Frankfurt’s sense. The Sophist knows how to say what it takes to win—a court case, a business deal, a democratic election. He doesn’t care whether what he says is true or false; it’s irrelevant. After a while, in fact, he stops paying any attention to the truth. Thinking about it becomes a distraction from his purpose. Life is a contest, whether for money, fame, or power—and words are the tools for winning.
Plato’s analysis of bullshit goes deeper than Frankfurt’s because it marries a discussion of truth with an understanding of tyranny that helps us understand, among other things, the candidacy of Trump for president.
Perceptions: Of summer sunsets
Sughra Raza. Swatches of Summer Sunsets, 2016. Or: “The Sky Isn't Blue!”
From digital photos.
A Question of Counting
by Jonathan Kujawa
On November 8th everyone will be counting. Counting can be hard. Especially in messy real world situations like elections. But in pure mathematics we get to decide the questions in which we are interested. We can choose to count countable things. The secret to math is the art of asking “good” questions. A good question is one in which you can make progress and learn something you didn't know before.
Like Goldilocks, a mathematician looks for questions which are neither too easy nor too hard. An easy problem is boring, unenlightening, and not much fun — a 2x2x2 Rubik's cube of mathematics. But, like a 7x7x7 cube, a too difficult problem is also boring, unenlightening, and not much fun. The secret is to land somewhere in the middle.
If I had played less Dots and Boxes and paid more attention in my math classes, I would have learned that our initial dots were nothing but lattice points. These are the points in the xy-plane where both coordinates are an integer. So (1,3), (0,-6), and (2,127) are lattice points, but (1, 3/2) and (1.6, π) are not. Lattice points are easy to count in any geometric shape we may draw. For example, here is a 3×3 square with lattice points for corners:
Counting we see there are 12 lattice points on the sides of the square and 4 in the interior. Stuck in a boring math class for long enough, we might even notice that the area of the square, 9, is also what we get from 12/2 + 4 – 1. And that a 1×1 square has area 4/2 + 0 – 1 and that 2×2 square has area 8/2 + 1 – 1. In fact, it seems like for any square we draw if it has S lattice points on the sides and M lattice points on the interior, then the area always works out to exactly equal S/2 + M – 1. A strange coincidence, indeed! This is when our mathematical sense starts tingling. Coincidences are rare in math.
Chiyo-ni, Issa, and Their Children
by Olivia Zhu
But I’ll venture a clumsy stab at explaining why this haiku might be so striking, and then dare to do the same for another, because I do think there’s something here that transcends translation. I’ve taken the liberty of picking the translations I thought sounded nice, but versions abound.
First, the Japanese poet Fukuda Chiyo-ni wrote:
Dragonfly catcher,
How far have you gone today
In your wandering?
She wrote it after the death of her son, when she had already been widowed. It is, perhaps, a simple work—for her child, who loved dragonflies and died young, the same flavor of thought for a living boy and one no longer. It makes me imagine a mother wondering where her son is playing, only to remember with a sharp breath that he has died. Yet this haiku is at once the moment before that breath, and the one after. What a sweet thought, to then picture your child continuing to do what he liked best in life, no matter that he has wandered far beyond where a mother might find him and care for him.
Here, it is the brevity of the haiku that makes me feel as if it is a passing thought, but perhaps a thought that Chiyo-ni might have had every day, multiple times a day, before committing it to paper.
Indifference Engine
“On the way from mythology to logistics…
machinery disables men even as it nurtures them.”
~ Adorno & Horkheimer
The third selection, however, was Edgar Varèse's Déserts. As the title implies, Déserts is possessed of its own vastness, but this is an expanse that is jagged and abrasive. Written in the early 1950s, that is at about half-way between La Mer and Become Ocean, its exploration of timbre is arid and dissonant, and is an early example of a score that calls for interweaving the ensemble's playing with pre-recorded electronic music. Some listeners may be reminded of avant-garde movie music where the scene calls for danger and uncertainty; one YouTube commentator wrote that “parts of this remind me of the music on Star Trek, when Kirk is facing some Alien on a barren world, kind of thing”.
Varèse has always been a favorite of mine when it comes to the canon of twentieth-century “new” music. Prickly and uncompromising, he was a passionate and broad-ranging thinker. After meeting him for a possible collaboration, Henry Miller mused that “Some men, and Varèse is one of them, are like dynamite.” Indeed, Varèse envisioned Déserts to be accompanied by a film montage – what we would casually characterize today as a multimedia experience. While the pitch to Walt Disney never went anywhere, the music is still with us today. But be that as it may, what is Déserts doing, sharing the stage with the marine masterpieces of Debussy and Adams?
CATSPEAK
by Brooks Riley
Creativity and Art
by Dwight Furrow
Philosophical definitions of art are not only controversial but tend to be unhelpful in understanding the nature of art. While trying to accommodate new, sometimes radically unfamiliar, developments in the art world, philosophical definitions typically do not explain why art is something about which we care, arguably something a definition should do. Institutional theories that treat art as any work intended to be displayed for the art world, or historical theories that view art as having some intended relationship to prior artworks, leave out any reference to why art is worth making and appreciating.
Aesthetic theories get closer to bringing the value of art into the picture. They privilege an artist's intention to imbue objects with aesthetic character, which when successful produces aesthetic pleasure, surely a primary reason for valuing art. But embodying an intention to produce aesthetic pleasure is not sufficient for something to be an artwork. An attractive, mass produced set of dishes or a potted plant might be intended to have aesthetic properties but are not works of art. Furthermore, the appeal of some works of art such as the ready-mades (e.g. Duchamp's shovel) is not primarily aesthetic at all. Clearly aesthetic pleasure is an important goal of art and one reason why we value it. But considering other reasons to value art might get us closer to a definition that clarifies art's nature.
It seems to me that in addition to art's ability to produce aesthetic pleasure we value works of art because they are accomplishments. We admire and appreciate the skill, effort, depth of insight and conceptual dexterity required to produce art. But more importantly we appreciate works of art because they exemplify creativity. Above all, works of art are works of imagination that constitute a departure from the everyday and the mundane. They surprise us and move us because of their unfamiliarity. I would argue that creativity constitutes the distinctive kind of accomplishment that is a work of art. Thus, it is puzzling that most philosophical definitions of art do not include creativity among their conditions.