I am no fan of Woodrow Wilson.
He pushed for and then signed the Espionage Act and it’s extension known as the Sedition Act. Through these laws, countless individuals have been harassed, convicted, and sentenced to prison for political (primarily anti-war) speech.
Wilson also successfully campaigned for the presidency on a policy of neutrality in what became World War I. After attaining office, however, embarked on policy that was so unneutral that his Secretary of State, William Jennings Bryan, resigned. He then pushed for the United States to join the otherwise deadlocked European war on the flimsy pretext that some Americans died when the Germans sunk the Lusitania, a ship carrying munitions for the British military. (To say nothing of the fact that the German government gave ample warning that they considered the Lusitania a warship and that Americans should not take passage on it.) It has been argued that had Wilson not joined the war, the United States would not have become the military-industrial nation that it is today, and the First World War would not have ended in the conditions that made Germany ripe for the rise of Adolph Hitler.
Sigmund Freud, in his psychological analysis of Wilson, concluded that the President was a dangerous fanatic whose belief in his own pre-ordained glory made him act with reckless abandon. Freud ultimately decided that the disastrous evil which inevitably resulted from Wilson’s actions made him impossible to sympathize with.
In the interest of keeping this blog post short, I will only mention further that Wilson is currently in the public eye due to calls from Princeton students to rename the Woodrow Wilson School of International Affairs because of his well-known racism.
For all of the above reasons, it may seem reasonable to attempt to wipe Wilson’s legacy from the school and the country. But I side with Diodorus Siculus on the subject of erasing legacies. Rather than eliminating the memory of evil men, it is better to “publish [the] truth to the stain of their memory.” Let the school continue by the name of Wilson, so that for generations to come people will reflect on how his actions resulted in the death and oppression of countless souls.
Beer of the week: Kalnapils Bock – One of the many unintended consequences of the First World War was the declaration of Lithuania as a sovereign nation. This is the first Lithuanian beer that I have had and, unfortunately, it is not very good. Initially, I was surprised to see how pale this beer is for a “bock”. It pours with a fluffy head that fades quickly. The aroma is reminiscent of cheap malt liquor: cheap grain, some alcohol. The aftertaste is decidedly metallic. Step up your game, Lithuania.
Reading for the week: Bibliotheca Historica, by Diodorus Siculus – In the preface to Book XIV of his “universal history”, Diodorus points out that men of high standing are subject to greater censure for their faults. “Let this therefore startle wicked men to consider, that they leave behind them an ugly representation of themselves, to the view of posterity for ever.”
Question for the week: Is it better to totally annihilate the memory of a bad man or to preserve his infamy as a warning to future generations?
*This post was accidentally published prematurely last week. So if you saw it then and couldn’t find it later, that’s why.
“Man up!” I was told when I was out on the town with some friends and we were obliged to finish our beers before moving on to the next tavern. “Be a man and chug that beer!”
The first time that I had Cooper’s, an Australian teetotaler hassled me for drinking my beer too slowly. I was shocked and perplexed. Assuming (quite accurately) that this gentleman had quit drinking because he was unable to live with his habit, I was confused as to why he would insist upon perpetuating the very notion that drinking beer can only be done immoderately. It was an impossible and fruitless effort to explain to him that some people drink beer because they like the way that it tastes.
Nobody would dream of saying, “a real man skulls his Riesling!” or “only a pussy wouldn’t chug that Cabernet Sauvignon!” So why does this culture surround beer?
When I was out with my friends and they insisted that I “man up”, I was drinking an IPA. And a good one at that. What a dreadful way to take the fun out of drinking a good beer: pressuring somebody to skull a delicious, high-alcohol beer as fast as possible. I know that some people cannot drink beer for medical or personal reasons, and I would not dream of pressuring them into doing so. I also would not try to bully somebody into chugging can after can of a beautiful, well-crafted beer, just for the sake of getting drunk.
Peer pressure is a problem among young adults. But it is also a problem for grown men who understand that drinking beer and getting drunk are different activities with different aims.
So for everybody who enjoys a nice beer at the end of the day, and only one, don’t be afraid to tell everybody else that you drink what you want, when you want, in the quantity that you want. Anybody who tries to make you chug a finely crafted ale is a barbarian, and their opinion is worth naught.
Beer of the week: Hinterland Maple Bock – This Wisconsin stout is exactly the kind of beer that is meant to be savored rather than chugged. It is brewed with real maple syrup. It pours quite dark, but what light does filter through is deep red. The head is made up of large tan bubbles that lace the glass nicely. The maple really shows in the aroma. The smoky, dark roasted malt with the sugary maple calls to mind maple smoked bacon. The beer is almost shockingly smooth. The mouthfeel is almost velvety. The dark malt really is the heart of the flavor. The smokiness leaves a tingle in the back of the throat that encourages the next sip. This is a very nice beer.
Reading of the week: Ajax by Sophocles, Lines 1-133 – The son of Telamon is manliness personified. He was the strongest of the Greeks at Troy. He single-handedly prevented Hector from burning the Argive ships, leaping from prow to prow with a gigantic spear. But eventually, Ajax met a disgraceful end. As Odysseus observed, even the greatest among us are “mere fleeting shadows.”
Question for the week: Who’s the man?