I was not surprised that the recent terrorist attacks in Paris elicited a strong emotional response (at least among people whose facebook posts appear on my feed.) I was surprised, however, that the attacks in Brussels seemed to get far less attention among the same people. The general sense that I get is that the disparity results from the much closer historical and cultural connection between France and the US of A. But I have Belgian friends, and Belgian beer blows French beer out of the water, so I am sending all of my well-wishes in that direction. (Not that my sentiments are worth anything, but that is what I have to give at the moment.)
Whether in Belgium, France, or anywhere else, the occasion of catastrophe on the other side of the world is an interesting opportunity to reflect on our shared humanity. Why do we care if Belgians are bombed? If Frenchmen are shot? If some natural disaster befalls a distant land? Because we are humans, damn it! And so are those people. Do we do anything about it? Well… maybe nothing very helpful. But we at least take note.
Obviously, I am not the first person to ask why we should care about the calamities that befall people we will never meet. Adam Smith pondered the question over two and a half centuries ago in The Theory of Moral Sentiments:
Let us suppose that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake, and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connexion with that part of the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity.
He would, I imagine, first of all, express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labours of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He would too, perhaps, if he was a man of speculation, enter into many reasonings concerning the effects which this disaster might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and business of the world in general. And when all this fine philosophy was over, when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity, as if no such accident had happened. The most frivolous disaster which could befall himself would occasion a more real disturbance. If he was to lose his little finger to-morrow, he would not sleep to-night; but, provided he never saw them, he will snore with the most profound security over the ruin of a hundred millions of his brethren, and the destruction of that immense multitude seems plainly an object less interesting to him, than this paltry misfortune of his own. To prevent, therefore, this paltry misfortune to himself, would a man of humanity be willing to sacrifice the lives of a hundred millions of his brethren, provided he had never seen them? Human nature startles with horror at the thought, and the world, in its greatest depravity and corruption, never produced such a villain as could be capable of entertaining it. But what makes this difference? When our passive feelings are almost always so sordid and so selfish, how comes it that our active principles should often be so generous and so noble?
The age of the internet has changed this aspect of life but little. Now our expressions of sorrow and our reasonings concerning effects take place online, allowing us to interact with a much wider group of people. Now we have instant access to news about events that, in Smith’s time, may have taken months to reach us. But perhaps most importantly, we can now see what’s happened in photographs and videos, bringing every tragedy closer to home in a way that Smith believed foreign events could never be. This, of course, cuts both ways. The immediate and graphic way in which we are able to perceive these events increases the impact of terrorism. But it also allows us to more readily experience the shared humanity that drives us to care at all.
Beer of the week: Chimay Grande Réserve a.k.a. Chimay Blue – When I visited Belgium a few years ago, I imbibed many excellent beers. Like La Trappe, Chimay produces “Authentic Trappist Ale” inside the walls of a monastery. This, their strong dark ale, is orange-brown with a creamy tan head. The beautiful aroma is sweet and slightly sour. The ale itself is super smooth. The flavor is full, sweet, and delicious with notes of sweet biscuit.
Reading of the week: The Theory of Moral Sentiments by Adam Smith – After the above-quoted section, Smith goes on to discuss the conflict between self-love and humane impulses. He attributes much to what Freud would later call the superego.
Question of the week: What do you do in response to distant catastrophes?
There are complaints in some circles that there are not enough “strong female characters” in modern entertainment. And perhaps that really is a problem with modern entertainment. But maybe that just means that we should look to the ancients. After all, strong female characters are as old as theater itself. Consider The Oresteia by Aeschylus:
The trilogy starts with Clytemnestra, Queen of the Argives, taking revenge on her husband for killing her daughter. Despite the name of the play, she is clearly the main character of Agamemnon. She is both sympathetic and relentless in her determination to make Agamemnon pay for his sins. A woman wronged, Clytemnestra kills the warrior king who led the sack of Troy. A strong female indeed.
The final play of the trilogy, The Eumenidies, is regarded as the first dramatic presentation of a jury trial. And who are the principle participants in the trial of Orestes? The judge: Athena, goddess of wisdom. The prosecution: the Furies, ancient goddesses of retribution. It is true that the Apollo’s defense of Orestes results in an acquittal, and Athena specifically declares outright that she prefers the masculine to the feminine. But the play ends with the female immortals negotiating and eventually contracting an alliance that will preserve the city of Athens and the institution of trial by jury under their patronage. It is the strong, benevolent goddesses that we have to thank for many of the central aspects of our culture.
Beer of the week: Zlatopramen 11 Degrees – Zlatopramen makes a wide range of flavored radlers, but this is their standard Czech lager. It is fairly basic, with a golden color and fluffy white head that fades just a bit too quickly. Aromatic hops lead the smell, with hints of grass. The taste is also dominated by the hops. The beer is not too bitter by any means, but they did not skimp on the bitterness either. Overall, I think this is Czech lager is quite good.
Reading for the week: Antigone by Sophocles – How about Antigone for a strong female lead? Her sister told her that women could not contend with men, and you know what Antigone had to say? “Maybe you can’t contend with men, but just watch me!”
Question for the week: Who is your favorite female character? (Ancient or modern.)
Earlier this week, there was a post in celebration of Casimir Pulaski Day. This post is meant to be a head-start on celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.
The Irish are a prolific people in some ways. There are plenty of jokes about the leporine breeding habits of Irish Catholics, but I am more interested in their prodigious writing. The first reading on this blog was by Oscar Wilde. Subsequent readings included works by Shaw, Oliver Byrne, Lord Dunsany, and Jonathan Swift. American writers of Irish descent have also been featured on this blog; Poe, Twain, Fitzgerald, and James all inherited the Irish way with words.
But it is not just in literature that the Irish excel. So prolific are the Irish in America, that no fewer than half of this nation’s presidents were of Irish descent. It may be unfair to hold that fact against the Irish as a whole, but it is not clear what that fact tells us.
The aspiration to public office in America is often maligned as merely seeking to suckle from the public teat. Or, as H. L. Mencken put it, the politician under democracy “is a sturdy rogue whose principal, and often sole, aim in life is to butter his parsnips.” This is perhaps unfair to the politician; it could be that there is something more noble driving him.
Even if there is a righteous impetus for the politician, he still must suffer for his efforts. Every effort put toward political success in a democracy has its price in the form of effort that cannot be exerted elsewhere. The question of whether one can be a good politician and a good man is still unclear to me. It seems possible that one cannot rise to any reasonably high level in government without compromising everything that makes one noble. For Mencken, of course, the answer was more clear: even if a good man could get elected to high office, he’d soon either turn bad (because of the company he’d be forced to keep) or jump out of the window.
Though many an Irish-American has sought and found political success in this country, perhaps they would have been well to consider the words of fellow son of Ireland, William Butler Yeats:
The Muse is mute when public men
Applaud a modern throne:
Those cheers that can be bought or sold,
That office fools have run,
That waxen seal, that signature.
For things like these what decent man
Would keep his lover waiting,
Keep his lover waiting?
Beer of the week: O’Shea’s Traditional Irish Stout – Surprisingly, I have had relatively few Irish beers, so I was happy to find this one at the store. This stout is very dark brown with a quickly fading tan head. The aroma is slightly sour, of dark bread with hints of vanilla. The body of the beer is surprisingly thin. The finish is pleasantly smokey. This is not my favorite style of beer, but as far as dry stouts go, this one isn’t bad.
Reading for the week: A Model For The Laureate by William Butler Yeats – The first time I read this poem, it was part of an essay denouncing Yeats for his “anti-democratic philosophy.” The poem compares “good and great” kings, strong-armed tyrants, and democratic politicians. The more I read it, the more I am convinced that Yeats considered the last of these three to be the worst.
Question for the week: What is the greatest Irish contribution to our culture?
Today, the City and people of Chicago celebrate Casimir Pulaski Day. Pulaski was a revolutionary in his native Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. After his faction’s defeat in the War of the Bar Confederation, Pulaski moved to the Americas and continued his work as a freedom-fighter. He, along with Hungarian Michael Kovats, reformed the Colonial Cavalry and died in combat against the British. Chicago’s connection to Pulaski is one of shared heritage; the Polish population of Chicago is reportedly the largest of any city other than Warsaw.
Holidays, whether official or not, are important for people. They should allow people to reflect on and celebrate the important things in life. Since St. Martin’s Day in November, I have tried to find ways to celebrate every day for the myriad gifts I’ve received. Pulaski Day provides a convenient excuse to lift a glass in honor of the things that make life good. From pierogi and beer to brave patriots like Pulaski himself, the Polish people have given America and the world a number of cultural gifts. Pulaski Day is an opportunity to reflect on and celebrate those gifts.
So, here’s to Brigadier General Casimir Pulaski and all of the Polish immigrants who did their share to make this country great! Na zdrowie!
Beer of the week: Kujawiak Export Beer – Although this beer is Polish, it reminds me of Korea. Something in the aftertaste of Kujawiak reminds me of nurungji, the rice that burns to the bottom of the pot. Koreans make tea with this scorched rice and even make candies in nurungji flavor. Kujawiak is a pretty, highly carbonated, golden beer. It smells of sweet malt. Aside from the burnt rice aftertaste, there is not a whole lot of to this beer. I am about equal parts confused and pleased by Kujawiak.
Reading for the week: The Constitution of May 3, 1791 – Although Pulaski did not live to see it, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth adopted a written constitution in 1791, considered to be the second constitution of its kind (after the American Constitution.) The Constitution established the Catholic Religion as the official religion of the state, but “guarantee[s] freedom to all rites and religions”. It also affirmed the obligation of the nobility to protect the peasantry, out of “justice, humanity and Christian duty,” as well as the nobility’s “own self-interest properly understood.”
Question for the week: What does Casimir Pulaski Day mean to you?
There is a general sense that the history of humanity has been a general march of progress. Progress economically, intellectually, socially. Everybody acknowledges that there have been missteps along the way, but on the whole our species moves ever upward. Assuming that this is the case, (which is not totally evident,) perhaps the most interesting parts of history are those missteps. When humanity turns away from progress and things become appreciably worse. We would be well advised to see the earliest signs of our errors so that they could be corrected before we find that we have strayed too far.
At the beginning of The Economic Consequences of the Peace, John Maynard Keynes describes European society before it was plunged into the Great War. Let’s see how far we have come:
“The inhabitant of London could order by telephone, sipping his morning tea in bed, the various products of the whole earth, in such quantity as he might see fit, and reasonably expect their early delivery upon his doorstep;”
This is still the case, but the internet has removed the need for any human interaction, even placing the order with a person on the other end of the phone line. Thanks to Amazon Prime, many city dwellers can get most things in under a day. There are also myriad more products available, and the internet allows more and smaller vendors to reach each individual.
“he could at the same moment and by the same means adventure his wealth in the natural resources and new enterprises of any quarter of the world, and share, without exertion or even trouble, in their prospective fruits and advantages; or he could decide to couple the security of his fortunes with the good faith of the townspeople of any substantial municipality in any continent that fancy or information might recommend.”
Again, the internet has vastly improved the opportunity for individual investment. Not only can one buy stocks online, one can invest in a friend’s invention, an artist’s project, or a potato salad. And the ability to invest internationally is unprecedented.
“He could secure forthwith, if he wished it, cheap and comfortable means of transit to any country or climate without passport or other formality, could despatch his servant to the neighbouring office of a bank for such supply of the precious metals as might seem convenient, and could then proceed abroad to foreign quarters, without knowledge of their religion, language, or customs, bearing coined wealth upon his person, and would consider himself greatly aggrieved and much surprised at the least interference.”
From personal experience, knowledge of the native language is almost never required (although it can obviously be very helpful.) Being a native English speaker is the next best thing to being multilingual. Otherwise, travel has certainly changed considerably since Keynes’s youth. Commercial airlines have made it possible to travel quickly, safely, and cheaply all over the world. (To say nothing of the availability of highway automobile traffic, which doubtless accounts for the bulk of the increase in personal travel since the beginning of the 20th century.) There certainly are passport requirements for some travel, but a modern Londoner can go nearly anywhere in Europe without a visa.
But the security measures of air travel are substantially more than “the least interference.” Something tells me that Keynes’s pre-war gentlemen would be extremely indignant about being forced to partially disrobe in the airport and subject himself to the invasive measures that every modern traveler has to endure.
Finally, modern states eschew the use of specie, and are engaged in a war against cash. But credit cards can be used in a great many countries, even in the smallest towns. In many respects, this makes travel much safer and easier.
“But, most important of all, he regarded this state of affairs as normal, certain, and permanent, except in the direction of further improvement, and any deviation from it as aberrant, scandalous, and avoidable.”
Like us, the early 20th Century man was confident that society was always improving, becoming ever more convenient and secure. Then the bombs started to drop.
Beer of the week: Anchor Steam Beer – The progress of beer production in the United States has certainly had some missteps. (One so large that it resulted in two Amendments to the Constitution.) However, this beer represents a return to progress. Anchor Steam claims to be America’s first craft brewery, and this is their signature brew. In the past, I enjoyed this beer on draft, but I don’t much care for it in the bottle. It is an attractive, almost orange-colored beer with lots of foam. The aroma is yeasty. There is a certain bitterness in the finish that I don’t care for. It doesn’t seem like the same as usual bitterness from hops.
Reading of the week: The Economic Consequences of the Peace by John Maynard Keynes – This polemic is probably best known for explaining why the terms of the Treaties of Versailles doomed Europe to future strife. But this section focuses on the state of Europe before the war even began.
Question of the week: Is there any field where humanity is clearly moving in the wrong direction? Or, more importantly, is there such a thing as progress?