by iampunha | 7/31/2008 08:00:00 AM
In the pantheon of meticulously conceived slogans and phrases that capture little of the complexity of the issues they're meant to sell, one stands above them all.

Sure, we may roll our eyes at pro-life (because obviously anyone who supports abortion enjoys the thought of death) or family values (which destroy families and devalue people) or the death tax (which taxes rich dead people's estates, not every now-dead organism).

But these are relatively innocent. They do describe some small element of the concepts they shield from public view. People who are pro-life are indeed pro-unborn child (just not often so very enthusiastic about protecting that life once it's screaming for food). People who support family values also occasionally support valuing families on more tangible matters, like education and public safety.

Die Endlösung, on the other hand, assumes mountains of facts not in evidence, assumes assertions A, B and C about them, and completes the travesty of logic by proposing an end game with those facts and assertions taken as such.

Its entire foundation is built of the same things we fight around the world 67 years later: scapegoatism, fear and disenfranchisement by labeling.

Die Endlösung may not have ended as its inventor intended, but it was pretty successful, offing 6 million Jews and 5 million others, in addition to the battlefield casualties.

And on July 31, 1941, Hermann Göring, acting on instruction from Adolf Hitler, ordered Reinhard Heydrich to come up with it.



For Antoine de Saint-Exupery, who joined millions in rejected Hitler's Final Solution.

I have written reasonably extensively (for a storyteller, at least) on the horrors of World War II, particularly for civilians. Partly because of that, and partly because yesterday's entry was rather trying, I'm going to approach today's topic from an academic perspective.

A friend of mine has designs on getting his doctorate in the rhetoric of censorship. I find the subject fascinating; indeed, growing up intellectually in the shadow of the Bush administration, it is hard to not be fascinated by the degree to which people will manipulate and outright rape language to suit their fancy, whether it be scaring, cajoling or lying.

This is not going to be a case study in how the Bush administration has lied in its creative use of language, nor even more than a casual look at how the RNC (ain't nothin' grand about it) has done the same through its metaphysical purchase of words like liberal, pro-life and pro-family.

Instead, this is going to be perhaps my shortest entry ever, because I have something very simple, and potentially surprising to tell you:

Hitler had a very good reason to believe language captivated people.

His native dialect, and his native vocal mannerisms, were nothing like how he presented himself in public.

This much should not surprise. We effect certain changes in our voices, subconsciously or otherwise, when we speak before substantive audiences. Our intonations necessarily move deeper in our chests because the resonance necessary for our words to come off as more than enthusiastic squeaks requires as much. Look at the pitch employed by whales as proof enough of that; their songs can travel miles underwater.

What made Hitler different is that his native dialect was gutter German:


Journalist Jürgen Schielke transcribed the words on the tape, and it was also translated into Finnish. Schielke was surprised at the "working class language" used by Hitler and his turns of phrase which reflect the speaker's educational shortcomings.


There is nothing objectively wrong with using a nonprestige form of German — or English. Linguistically speaking, all dialects are created equal. (Those who find fault with Ebonics, with patois and with other forms of supposedly inferior language tend to bitterly fight the notion that Chaucer was writing in a thoroughly common tongue back in the day. If you were conducting official business with the crown or court, at no point were you ever using English — except to quote someone stupid or as a joke.)

But socially, of course, some dialects are more valuable than others. I was raised to speak and write in Upper Midlands, and pretty thoroughly so. (Fortunately, my parents do not mind so much that having gotten pretty good at UM, I revert back to other dialects from time to time an' a' tha'.) For whatever reason — and I'm not sufficiently familiar with him to offer a good non-WAG as to why — Hitler found more power in using a higher form of German than what he was obviously raised speaking.

This understanding of the value and power of language, whether regarding dialects of phrase selection, was pretty obviously conscious, judging by Hitler's speeches and by his use of language down to other plans for killing people:

In 1939, a Nazi "euthanasia program" began. This term is used as a euphemism for the Nazi plan to murder those with physical or mental defects. Unlike the sterilization program, the "euthanasia" program was conducted in secrecy. "Operation T4" was the code term used to designate this killing project.

As word leaked out about the "euthanasia" program, some church leaders, parents of victims, physicians, and judges protested the killings. Hitler ordered the end of Operation T4 in August 1941. However, the murders continued in a decentralized manner. Doctors were encouraged to kill patients with disabilities by starvation, poisoning, or injection.


See, Operation T4 doesn't sound like anything remarkable. (While I do not mean to draw meaningful comparisons here, the Heritage Institute, the American Family Association and Freedom's Watch sound pretty good and pure, and I'd argue they're anything but.) But once you get behind what Operation T4 is hiding, the generic-looking name reveals sinister plans. The same concept was adopted in naming the U-2 and the concept continued pretty interestingly throughout.

I just wish some other efforts to sell the public on things we really shouldn't have wanted had been a little more transparent.

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by Unknown | 7/31/2008 01:53:00 AM
Imho, the [historical profession's] regulation problem is -- not one of failing to police the perimeters of the profession -- but one of refusing to police its core.

-- Ralph Luker


Context here.

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by Unknown | 7/30/2008 03:43:00 PM
An anonymous commenter on Ralph's post raises an interesting question: what one book would you have Barack Obama read, if you could ask him to read any one book in existence?

So let's have a go of it. I'll start: I'd ask Obama to read The Origins of the Urban Crisis: Race and Inequality in Postwar Detroit, by Thomas Sugrue. I'd like Obama to feel the same sense of urgency I felt when I read that book -- an understanding that words and compromises alone aren't going to solve the serious cultural crisis that our economic situation places us in.

Second choice would be a book he's probably already read: The Idea That Is America: Keeping Faith with Our Values in a Dangerous World, by Anne-Marie Slaughter. It's easily the most truly Wilsonian book written in the last twenty years. And as regular readers know, I'm a Wilsonian on foreign policy through and through.

Now, gentle reader, it's your turn. What one book would you ask Barack Obama to read?

If you're supporting, or thinking of supporting, McCain, you can offer a book for him instead of Obama.

[Update] Thanks to Aaron Schutz of Education Policy Blog for picking this up. Great suggestions are to be had in comments there as well.

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by iampunha | 7/30/2008 08:00:00 AM
He went to war with several young children under his wife's care.

He didn't come back.

That's the story of many hundreds of thousands of Americans.

But today it's the story of one man and those he left behind.

(Diarist's note: Portions of this diary are really disturbing. Really, really, seriously, disturbing in ways that strive to redefine depraved. If you're ingesting something, stop. If easily disturbed eyes might happen upon the screen, secure their safety far away from it. You do not want your kids to read this. It gets ugly fast.)



For those who live today having been abused yesterday.

Never, ever give up finding your place in this world and keeping it safe.


One cold and damp morning in mid-June 1995, I was trying to sleep in a van parked near a cemetery in Picardy, France, less than two hours from the house four of us would stay in for about three weeks (my sisters would stay in it for an additional week).

We'd had to sleep in the van because my mother had forgotten that in France, if you make reservations for "sept heurs" at a hotel, that hotel will expect you at 7 a.m. This is even more amusing because she was raised on military time and so would have written it as 1900 hours, similar to the French version, dix-neuf heurs (19 hours, or 7 p.m.).

We had stopped not because anyone was particularly tired (not that the van was especially amenable to sleep) but because the cemetery was closed.

The cemetery contains the physical remains of one Alfred Joyce Kilmer, whose most memorable (but not best) poem, "Trees," you may have been forced to memorize one year for some Arbor Day celebration.

He was an academic, he is commonly mistaken for a woman (Joyce was a family name, similar to Johns for the Hopkins family), and his death, at age 31, on July 30, 1918, started a chain of events many members of my family still don't talk about. Some are in denial still.

Joyce Kilmer was my great-grandfather, and when he died, his wife had to make ends meet. Among other things, she took in a boarder whose name you can find in any number of stories about my great-grandfather. Apparently they were good friends.

But friends don't do what this man did.

Even enemies don't do what this man did.



This diary gets ugly fast. I am mincing words because this is not my story to tell, but too many people are too scared to talk about their own abuse for me to be silent today. I have put asterisks around the place where the family stuff ends, though I do later reference some nasty shit. It ain't pretty, and I don't want any survivors here to have flashbacks on my account.



It takes a special kind of animal to abuse children.

One of them took religious orders to escape his grip. We did not find out that anything particularly bad had happened to her (and as far as I know, we will never know the full story) until, on her death bed, she became delirious, started remembering ways he had touched her before she got out, and started reacting to those memories.

Another of those children had 11 of his own. And where the cycle ended with his sister, this man continued it.

Some of his children did as well, though my father was not among them.

And some of those children, from what I am told, continued the cycle not only later in life with their children but with their own siblings.

My grandfather and his children were not the only monsters in the house. My father's grandmother (on his mother's side) was also evil. She lived with them until 1969, when my father was 11, at which point her body died.

Her soul, see, had died long before. My father tells me that before extended family came to pay their respects, his mother said, "Now, let's all pretend we're sorry Mêmê is dead."

Through letters I was not meant to read, written by people I doubt will ever see this, I have found out that she used knitting needles and scissors on her grandchildren.

They were not used in traditional ways.

One of my aunts reported that when she underwent an emergency procedure during the birth of one of her children, necessitating the use of scissors near her vagina, she had a flashback to when she was very young.

She wanted to know if anyone else had similar memories.

Nobody remembered having scissors used on them, but some people said they weren't surprised to hear it.



***OK, the bad stuff's over. (I so totally understand not wanting to read about abuse.)

I do not need the comments here to tell me that many people on this site were abused as children.

I also don't need statistics on child rape and/or pedophiles.

I know because they escaped to the Internet for the same reason I did: Nobody can hurt you here.

My grandfather never abused me (that I know of), but I do have experience with abuse, albeit not nearly on the level of scissors or knitting needles.

And I know that psychologically, if you get burned by something enough, you stop going near it.

The psychological scars take a lot more to heal. And your personality changes. Your habits change. You don't want to interact as much in person because you're willing to do anything you can to make sure it never happens again. (The other reaction is to embrace sex so you can own your abuse. You will never see me condemn this reaction insofar as it does not hurt innocent people. I have no inner wound to heal by condemning those victims of sexual abuse who become promiscuous as a form of therapy. I have only the hope that they will seek out healing as do those who wear baggy clothes and don't make eye contact with anyone.)

It's why I fled to the Internet when I was about 16. I had more friends in my e-mail inbox than I did in high school. I have formed close relationships (albeit not permanently so) with more people online than in person.

And here, the most someone can do is type something vicious at me. Nobody here can do what those kids did to me.

Nobody can corner me when the teacher is deliberately looking away, eating her lunch facing the wall so she can say she didn't see anything happen.

And nobody can act (as opposed to type) incredulous that someone would beg off their job.

It happens. Child abuse happens. Child rape happens. And it's going to keep happening unless we step up our efforts to end it.

For every victim who steps forward, 10 more haven't. Maybe they don't have the courage to. Maybe, like with my father and many of his siblings, the memories are repressed, tucked away for a time when they can be dealt with (most of them started coming out in 1995, when my grandfather died).

And maybe they are tired of having people not believe them. "But he was your father! How could he do that to you? I just don't understand it."

... and you think victims do? You think a 5-year-old girl understands why her father rapes her?

You think a 12-year-old boy understands why his father is standing naked with his penis in the boy's face?

You think any child understands being penetrated by a foreign metal object?

They just know they need to escape. And one of my aunts escaped the hell of living with her parents (one a pedophile, the other an enabler) for 30+ years by forming alternate personalities.

My father repressed for 20+ years. Then, one day, maybe seven years ago, we were sitting in the car as I was getting ready to drive him somewhere.

He was breathing rather uncertainly.

He doesn't do that around me. Even when he's uncertain, he doesn't do that around me.

I put the key in the ignition.

"I think ... " he started.

I looked at him.

" ... that my father might have abused me."

I think I said "OK." I'm pretty sure we didn't say much more about it that trip or that day. I know he said my sisters hadn't wanted to hear much about it. (My grandfather was a monster, but he was a very clever monster. Kids loved him.)

My father has never given me many details. They're not mine to ask for. He knows he can tell me anything, and I'm pretty sure I know things about him that even my mother doesn't know. (I'm told this is unusual, but in my natural state, I am much with the personal sharing, so it doesn't seem weird to me. Only some of the things he tells me are unusual.)

The situation is the same with other people I have known, most of whom have since moved on from knowing me to knowing other people. One of them one day out of the blue asked me to accompany her outside for a smoke break. I don't smoke, and I said so, but who was I to turn down an invitation to talk?

We made small talk for about five seconds, which is about four seconds more than I usually like, and then she started talking to me about her abusive boyfriend. I don't know what she was told that suggested I wouldn't beg out of the conversation, but I didn't. (I have never understood the desire to, but part of that is probably being able to endure knowing so much awful shit.) Maybe the woman I was with, who knew some of my family history, had found out about the abuse in question and suggested she talk to me. Maybe I have a sympathetic face.

I don't know if that woman is still with her abuser. I don't remember her name, and I doubt I'd recognize her face. But there's a woman in Virginia who got listened to once, and that asshole she was with (I hope she isn't still) can't beat that out of her. He can't tell her she doesn't matter to anyone. He can't say nobody cares, can't say it's no big deal, can't say he only does it because he loves her so much.

Because if someone she barely knows can talk to her without rearranging her face, someone who supposedly cares more for her can sure as fuck stop giving her things to cover with concealer.



Someone reading this is suffering in silence. For at least one person who has gotten this far, that lack of understanding, that charge of lying, that talk of psychological scars not healing is not foreign.

It is personal.

All I can say to you is this:

It's not your fault.





Donate.

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by Unknown | 7/29/2008 11:27:00 PM
If you're looking for something substantive, read Ralph's minor masterpiece just below this post. Or go read Eric's post over at that other place. Since I'm writing and editing historical things basically around the clock right now, you're getting nothing substantive from me here.

On the other hand, here's a thought: If Obama chooses Virginia Gov. Tim Kaine as his running mate, however will we tell the two tickets apart? Obama/Kaine sounds an awful lot like ObaMcCain.

On the other hand, Obama/Bayh sounds like a shopping website. Yet even that's better than the awful, horrifying, gender-reversed Obama/Nunn. Obama's best bet? Obama/Sebelius -- nobody will be able to pronounce the VP's last name anyway, so he'll be in the clear...

This is an open thread.

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by Ralph Brauer | 7/29/2008 02:38:00 PM
Lincoln's Cooper Union Address

Lincoln's Cooper Union Address


I just returned from a week in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area wilderness that my son said is my natural element. He may be right for there are places there I have known better and longer than any other places on this earth. Along the way I stopped to see two old friends who had given me my first job while I was still in college.

The conversation turned, as it often has, to those days when they bought a boy's camp in their late twenties with no experience running a camp or even working in one. All they brought to the job was a commitment to make a difference in the lives of young men. Over the years they attracted a high-quality staff and nurtured a generation of boys who went on to become astronauts, professional athletes, university professors, artists, doctors, lawyers, researchers, technology experts, and a fair number of managers and consultants.

On the drive home I thought about their experience and its relevance to this Presidential election. No matter which candidate enters the White House next year, he will be walking into a job for which he has no prior experience. Regardless of opinions to the contrary, no one is truly prepared for the responsibilities and complexities of the modern American Presidency.



In fact, as historians have pointed out, some of those who supposedly rank among the most qualified turned out to have some of the more controversial and least successful administrations--Herbert Hoover, William Howard Taft, John Quincy Adams. At the same time some of the least-prepared rose to greatness or near greatness--Abraham Lincoln, Woodrow Wilson, John Kennedy, Harry Truman.

What enabled my friends and former bosses to be so successful even though they were young and inexperienced can be summed up in one often-over-used word--character. Their camp was all about values, When I look back on it values were everywhere. The camp was like a fabric woven from them.

It was this focus on values that enabled them to make decisions about critical issues that no one--not even they could have anticipated. It also enabled the camp to have a center--what I have often referred to on this blog as a moral compass--so that each of us was on the same page and all our actions reflected those values.

Many other wilderness camps around ours had some serious incidents. One ended up closing because of a drowning. Another lost two young men on a survival outing. A third lost two counselors who stupidly took an aluminum canoe out into a thunderstorm. It's not that we did not have accidents or everything was perfect, but because of that moral compass the accidents were not fatal or even life-threatening.

This may seem simple, but when you send groups out into the wilderness, potential accidents are everywhere. On trips I took out one boy put a knife through his hand far from a hospital. Another accidentally poured a pot of boiling water on his leg. A third managed to accidentally bump a canoe sitting at a portage landing and send it careening down a set of dangerous rapids.

Normally I don't get too personal in these blog essays, but I relate these stories because they are metaphors for situations faced by Presidents. The observation about the primacy of character also holds true for Presidents, as confirmed by some of our most imminent Presidential and leadership scholars. James MacGregor Burns and Bernard Bass, the first who coined the term transformational leadership and the second who helped to define its qualities, both see character in the form of principles and values as the heart of transformational leadership.

For Burns, transformational leadership means leaders who focus on:
End-values such as liberty, justice, equality.

Bernard Bass notes while pseudo-transformational leaders care only about "maintaining the dependence of their followers," the transformational leader must elevate people toward achievement by "building enthusiasm, challenge, meaning." For Bass,
Authentic transformational leaders, who may have just as much need for power as pseudo-transformational leaders, channel the need in socially constructive ways into the service of others.

The Counterrevolution already seems to have honed in on what will be the theme for their campaign against Barack Obama. Borrowing from Hillary Clinton, they will seek to attack his youth, his inexperience, even his naive views of policy and human nature in a campaign whose template could be 1960. This theme emerged during the recent Obama world tour, most notably in John McCain's remarks about Obama's Berlin speech, which by all accounts from personal sources in Germany was well-received.

Whether Barack Obama has the character it takes to become President is still an open question as it also is with McCain. But I can predict this campaign will revolve around it, in part because the incumbent has exhibited a considerable lack of it.

Looking back on the lives of Lincoln or Kennedy, hindsight now reveals flashes of character in their pre-Presidential years, but at the time those seemed less evident than they do through the lens of hindsight.

What is notable about both is that in the course of the campaign each delivered a speech or speeches that did provide those clues. Kennedy's Houston Ministerial Association speech still stands as one of the definitive statements of church-state relations in American history. Lincoln's Cooper Union Address defined his campaign. As one New York writer who was there observed:
No man ever before made such an impression on his first appeal to a New York audience.

Another eyewitness described the speech:
When Lincoln rose to speak, I was greatly disappointed. He was tall, tall, - oh, how tall! and so angular and awkward that I had, for an instant, a feeling of pity for so ungainly a man."

Yet when Lincoln began speaking:
His face lighted up as with an inward fire; the whole man was transfigured. I forgot his clothes, his personal appearance, and his individual peculiarities. Presently, forgetting myself, I was on my feet like the rest, yelling like a wild Indian, cheering this wonderful man.

Since I have written several times about Kennedy's speech, I will focus on Lincoln's. As Lincoln's law partner William Herndon has observed Lincoln constructed the speech like a lawyer's brief. Its intent was to outline a Constitutional and moral argument against the most divisive issue of those times--slavery.

Today when politicians seek to obfuscate and triangulate any controversial issue it is noteworthy that Lincoln should take on the major issue dividing Americans and not merely discuss it, but take a clear position on it, a position that defined the differences between the two parties. One paragraph in particular leaps from that speech with relevance even for today's issues, for having framed his arguments around the opinions of the signers of the Constitution, Lincoln then had to deal with the issue of how rigidly we should follow them. His entire speech depended on how well he walked that perennial American tightrope between what high school history classes call "strict" and "loose" construction.

Here is Lincoln's answer:
Now, and here, let me guard a little against being misunderstood. I do not mean to say we are bound to follow implicitly in whatever our fathers did. To do so, would be to discard all the lights of current experience - to reject all progress - all improvement. What I do say is, that if we would supplant the opinions and policy of our fathers in any case, we should do so upon evidence so conclusive, and argument so clear, that even their great authority, fairly considered and weighed, cannot stand; and most surely not in a case whereof we ourselves declare they understood the question better than we.

Here in a single paragraph is exactly what Burns and Bass spoke about it. It is a statement of values, but particularly about the values that would govern Lincoln's Administration.

Garry Wills has persuasively argued that the speech Obama gave on race deserves to be regarded as a modern Cooper Union speech, that Obama has already given his speech on values, but I think a closer parallel might be the 1932 election in which Franklin Roosevelt delivered the speech that defined his administration and inspired one of the great anthems of the Depression, only to then fall back into giving relatively safe speeches.

FDR's "Forgotten Man" speech still stands as one of the great campaign speeches in history, yet many Americans and even the reporters covering the election were beginning to wonder if "Forgotten Man" represented only a rhetorical flourish and not a deep commitment to values. To use the language of Burns and Bass was it merely a transactional speech given for a specific tactical purpose and not a transformative one designed to move a nation.

I believe Obama is now in a similar situation. Blogdom is full of rants about how he has moved the "the center" [whatever that is] and is not speaking for bloggers pet causes. People are openly wondering if Obama is not an incarnation of john Kerry and that we Democrats face yet another election in which we hold our noses and vote for a candidate we fear will not win and worry that if he does win will prove, as Bill Clinton did, merely a variation on GOP strategy.

In 1932 reporters finally became so frustrated with FDR's timid speeches that during some informal banter at Warm Springs reporters openly
teased him about his insipid campaign speeches since “Forgotten Man.” playfully challenged the writers, saying,
Well if you boys don’t like my speeches, why don’t you take a hand in drafting one yourselves?

They took up his offer–something that today would spark a congressional investigation–producing the Oglethorpe University Commencement Address of May 22, 1932. Oglethorpe is significant in that it did not merely reaffirm what FDR had said in "Forgotten Man" it also laid out some of the main principles of what would become the New Deal.

Roosevelt advocated “a wider, more equitable distribution of the national income” and stated, “the reward for a day’s work will have to be greater than it has been, and the reward to capital . . . will have to be less.” The speech ends by proposing the experimentation that would become the hallmark of the New Deal:
This country needs, and unless I mistake its temper, the country demands bold persistent experimentation. It is common sense to
take a method and try it. If it fails, admit it frankly and try another. But above all, try something.

While "Forgotten Man" came to define Roosevelt’s candidacy and become synonymous with the New Deal, Oglethorpe is important because it came at a time when people were wondering whether FDR really believed the values he had so forcefully and eloquently articulated in "Forgotten Man." Barack Obama may have given a great speech in his address on race, but currently his campaign seems to have lost its moral compass.

Like FDR, Obama will need to reaffirm his values if he wants to be President, because the Republican Counterrevolution is ready to hit him with everything they have as Election Day draws closer. In these days where every word in a campaign speech is tested ahead of time with focus groups, it is easy to become cynical about the role of rhetoric in a campaign and whether it can provide a clue to those qualities Burns and Bass outlined.

Roosevelt, Lincoln and Kennedy proved they can. The most obvious occasions for Obama and McCain will be the speeches delivered to their respective conventions. Those speeches should provide us a clue as to whether either of them has the potential to become the transformational leader our times demand at the White House.

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by Bastoche | 7/29/2008 02:33:00 PM
“The world has become normal again.” So Robert Kagan begins his latest effort, The Return of History and the End of Dreams. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, he says, the world had in the 90s a “tantalizing glimpse of a new international order” in which an expanding global system of commerce and communication would break down national barriers and dissolve ideological conflict. But that glimpse of a new international order has proven to be “a mirage.” The nation-state, Kagan says, “remains as strong as ever, and so, too, the nationalist ambitions, the passions, and the competition among nations that have shaped history” (3). The end of the Cold War seemed to put an end to that competition and thus to history. But that “end of history” was nothing more than a brief pause in which new poles and configurations of power were fortifying and organizing themselves in order to recommence the struggle. And the struggle has now recommenced. Competition among nations for power and prestige has returned and with it history. The world has indeed become normal again.


The Enlightenment dream of a world in which military confrontation between nations would be displaced by the peaceful competition of industry and trade is a seductive one. It is predicated, however, on the doubtful notion that the peoples of the world “would seek prosperity and comfort and abandon the atavistic passions, the struggles for honor and glory, and the tribal hatreds that had produced conflict throughout history” (8). The ancient Greeks, according to Kagan, knew better. They “believed that embedded in human nature was something called thumos, a spiritedness and ferocity in defense of clan, tribe, city, or state” (8). Although that aggressive spirit can be restrained, it cannot be eradicated. Indeed, according to Harvey Mansfield in his 2006 book Manliness and in his 2007 Jefferson Lecture, not only can we not eradicate it, since it is an inherent element of our animal nature, but we also do not want to eradicate it, since it is the motivating force that impels us to enter the arena of politics and fight for the cause that expresses our value and importance.

1. Reason, Temper, and the Struggle of Politics

Kagan has also used this ancient Greek concept of thumos or temper in his essay “Cowboy Nation” in order to explain the elemental energy that has impelled America in its grand march through history. From our earliest days as a new and dangerous nation, Kagan says, Americans have, with distinctive flair and exuberance, “exhibited the kind of spiritedness, and even fierceness, in defense of home, hearth, and belief that the ancient Greeks called thumos.” This irrepressible spirit has impelled Americans not only to defend hearth and home from attack but also to expand their nation’s territory and the reach of its commerce. But that is not all. Their fierce and idealistic temper has also impelled Americans to expand the scope of the universal principle that their nation, above all others, epitomizes and embodies: liberty. Prior to the twentieth century America did not possess the military might to defend and promote the principle of liberty on a global and universal scale. But during the twentieth century America came into its own as a military power, and though some Americans balked, preferring to remain isolated and ensconced behind their great oceanic barriers, most Americans, in characteristic displays of energy and assertiveness, were eager to use their nation’s unequalled strength to oppose and defeat the threats to global liberty posed by Nazism and Soviet Communism.

Americans thus have not hesitated and do not now hesitate to assume, when necessary, the stance of a warrior nation. But as I explained in Part V of this series, Mansfield recognizes that thumos, precisely because it is an elemental and irrational energy, can cause the person who is acting under its influence to exceed the bounds of moderation. The man who enters the arena of politics determined to achieve victory for himself and his cause—the manly man, as Mansfield calls him—can become carried away by the propulsive force of his energy and seek not only to defeat his opponents but also to tyrannize and oppress them. In order to prevent himself from lapsing into the despotic and tyrannical, the manly man must sublimate the elemental energy of thumos and raise it to the status of a virtue. He can perform this sublimatory act only by making thumos submit to reason, that is, by firmly grounding his cause on a foundation of coherent and rational argument.

Unfortunately the manly man inclines much more to aggressive action and warrior impulsiveness than to the painstaking effort of rational argument. Mansfield, though, proffers a solution. The manly man, the warrior whose natural habitat is the arena of political conflict and strife, must submit to the guidance of philosophers, those warriors of the intellect who have attained to the virtue of wisdom and who can moderate the manly man’s impulsive energy and prevent him from tipping into the excess of tyranny.

In many particulars Mansfield’s discussion of the manly man draws on Aristotle’s discussion of courage in Books II and III of the Ethics. But at certain points Mansfield diverges from his master, and nowhere more decisively than in the relation between thumos and courage. I’ll return to Kagan at the end of this post and to the three struggles that, he claims, define our modern world, including the struggle among nations for prestige, status, and honor. But first I want to take a closer look at Aristotle’s discussion of courage in the Ethics and the differences between Mansfield’s portrait of the manly man and Aristotle’s portrait of the man of courage.

Both Aristotle and Mansfield identify thumos as an irrational, elemental, animal energy and courage as a virtue grounded in reason and an undistorted grasp of reality. But they differ in the motivational importance they attach to thumos on the one hand, reason on the other. For Mansfield, the manly man is motivated primarily by thumos. Though the manly man is susceptible to rational argument, in Mansfield’s view he is pushed into politics first and foremost by the irrational energies of thumos and anger. Asserting the superiority and importance of himself and his cause, the manly man enters the political arena and struggles for victory and vindication. Indeed, so enraptured is he by the superiority of his cause that he will seek not only to defeat but also to oppress his adversaries. Only the wisdom of his advisers can restrain the exuberance of his temper and prevent him from lapsing into the irrational excess of tyranny.

For Aristotle, on the other hand, motivational primacy rests with reason. Though influenced by the elemental energy of thumos, the man of courage is intrinsically rational. When confronted by an extreme situation, he reacts not extremely but reasonably and moderately. He assesses the situation clearly and accurately and does not allow irrational impulse to distort his assessment. He sees the critical situation for what, in reality, it is and neither exaggerates nor minimizes it. In the thick of the crisis, Aristotle’s man of courage remains always and immovably rational.

2. The Man of Courage is a Man of Reason

Aristotle begins the Ethics by asking one of the fundamental philosophical questions: What is the chief human good? For Aristotle the answer is clear: the chief human good is happiness. What is not clear is the answer to the obvious follow-up question: In what does happiness consist? Some maintain that happiness derives from indulgence in physical pleasure. Others argue that happiness results from the acquisition of fame and honor. Aristotle rejects both answers and argues that happiness derives from an internal source: the configuration of a person’s character. The person who achieves happiness is the person who develops a character that is disposed to virtuous action. Every person is born with a potential for wisdom, moderation, justice, courage, and the other virtues or excellences. Not all individuals realize their potential for excellence in action. When an individual, by means of training and the consistent application of reason to human affairs, achieves a firm and settled disposition to display the virtues in practical action, that individual has attained to a condition of happiness.

Aristotle of course recognizes that many individuals achieve firm and settled dispositions to display not virtues in practical action but vices. Rather than divorcing virtue and vice by an unbridgeable abyss, however, he ingeniously posits that the rational, virtuous character and the irrational, non-virtuous character are related to one another. Specifically, each virtue is related to two vices. In order to make the relation clear between a specific virtue and its corresponding vices, Aristotle constructs a moral continuum in which the virtue occupies the moderate mean or rational middle ground between the two immoderate and irrational extremes, one an extreme of excess, the other an extreme of deficiency.

Each extreme is opposed to the moderate mean. Further, as excess and deficiency, each extreme is diametrically opposed to the other. However, though opposed to one another, the two extremes have one thing in common that unites them in opposition to their associated virtue: each has escaped the rule of reason. It is often the case that a person’s characteristic response to a situation is either too much (in excess) or too little (deficient) and, Aristotle says, “neither is good.” But, he adds, “to be affected when one should, at the things one should, in relation to the people one should, for the reasons one should, and in the way one should, is both intermediate and best, which is what belongs to excellence” (Book II. Chapter 6). For Aristotle reason is the indispensable power that enables a person to make these discriminations. And by making them, by responding appropriately to all these “shoulds,” the person finds the moderate mean of virtue between the immoderate extremes of vice and achieves the “excellence of character” that manifests itself in right and virtuous action.

These “shoulds” are effectively displayed in the first virtue that Aristotle treats, courage. Courage, according to Aristotle, is the virtue or excellence that a person exhibits in response to fear. Aristotle, though, is very specific about both the object that elicits the fear to which courage responds and the circumstances in which it is elicited. The object that elicits the fear is the “most fearsome” object of all: violent death. And the circumstances in which the fear of violent death is elicited are the “finest” circumstances of all, those that prevail in war. As Aristotle puts it, the courageous person is “the one who is fearless about a fine death…and those that occur in war are mostly of this sort” (III. 6). Of central importance to Aristotle is the attribute without which the death would not be “fine”: honor. The person who suffers violent death in battle acquires that which is eternally commendable, honor, and avoids that which is eternally reprehensible, shame. And it is courage that enables the person to enter the arena in which is found the death that is both the most fearsome and the most fine.

For Aristotle such courage is moderate and virtuous because at every step in the process of feeling fear and responding to it, the courageous person acts rationally. Initially, the courageous person fears what anyone “who has any intelligence” fears, the prospect of violent death in battle. But the courageous person responds to that most fearsome of objects as he should: rationally and, by extension, courageously. He neither minimizes the anguish of such a death nor exaggerates it. He sees it clearly for what it is, fully and without distortion. Having assessed it accurately, he responds to it appropriately, in the way that he should: He deliberately decides to meet his death head-on. He is fortified in this decision because he knows that by dying in battle he achieves that which is surpassingly fine: everlasting and incontestable honor. And so, temperately and without flinching, he goes to meet that most fearsome and most honorable of things, death in battle. Thus, for Aristotle, “the person who withstands and fears the things one should [violent death] and for the end one should [the acquisition of honor], and in the way and when one should [unflinchingly in battle]…is courageous: for the courageous person feels and acts as the occasion merits, and following the correct prescription, however it may direct him” (III. 7).

The two extremes that flank on either side the moderate mean of courage have in common their detachment from the rational and their submission to the irrational. The irrational excess that corresponds to courage is typified by the person who does not fear what any rational person would fear, who indeed fears nothing at all. Aristotle does not have a term to designate such a person, but he says that “he would be some sort of madman, or someone immune to pain, if he feared nothing, not even an earthquake or stormwaters” (III 7). The irrational deficiency that corresponds to courage is typified by the coward, who “fears the sorts of things one shouldn’t and in a way one shouldn’t” (III 7). The coward, that is, fears objects that no rational person would fear or runs away from the object that any rational person would fear but that the courageous person would unflinchingly face: violent death in battle.

In spite of his emphasis on the rationality of courage, Aristotle recognizes that this most manly of virtues rests on or derives from an element of the irrational. The courageous, he says, “are thought also to include people who act through temper [thumos], like wild animals that rush at the people who have wounded them…” (III. 8). Those who act under “the impulse of temper” cannot in the strict sense be called courageous, since they rush into action “without seeing in advance any of the frightening aspects of the situation.” That is, they lack the indispensable element of reason that enables them to correctly assess the situation as one that would in any rational person incite fear. Rather, they act only out of an immediate and animal impulse of distress or anger.

Nonetheless, Aristotle says, aggressive behavior that derives from thumos “does seem to be the most natural form" of courage. And this most elemental form of courage can attain to the status of true courage “once the factors of decision and the end for the sake of which have been added” (III. 8). The courageous person is not immune to the elemental impulse of thumos but neither does he intemperately succumb to it. He does not rush into battle, blinded by distress and anger, but rather confronts his prospective death temperately, with full knowledge of the pain and distress that await him. And having beforehand clearly and accurately assessed the object that incites his fear, his prospective and violent death, he makes the firm and deliberate decision to go out and meet it. Just as important, the end for the sake of which he puts his life in jeopardy, the acquisition of eternal honor, fortifies him in his decision. Thus is the elemental impulse of thumos raised to the status of the rational and rendered sublime.

Aristotle makes it completely clear that courage cannot be separated from reason. The prospect of an imminent and violent death provokes fear in any reasonable person. The man of courage responds to that object as he should, that is, rationally: he neither distorts it nor runs from it. He unblinkingly faces the object that provokes fear in him, assesses it realistically, and goes to meet it courageously. But as Aristotle admits, one can argue that at the very core of this virtue, ineradicable and inescapable, is an element of the irrational: thumos, an elemental and animal-like impulse of distress and anger. The irrational therefore cannot be relegated to the two extremes of the moral continuum whose moderate mean courage inhabits. The person deficient in courage who fears what he should not and the person of unlimited boldness who does not fear what he should are both equally irrational. But so too the courageous person who inhabits the moderate and rational mean is fueled by an element of the irrational. He modifies his animal temper by raising it to the level of the rational and making it sublime. But he never escapes his temper, his animal energy, nor transforms it completely. At its core his courage retains an impulsive and ineradicably irrational component.

3. The Manly Man is a Man of Temper

In his portrait of the manly man, Mansfield has both drawn on Aristotle’s discussion of courage and modified it to fit his own purpose. According to both Mansfield and his master, a person displays courage in an arena of struggle against an opponent. Aristotle restricts that arena to the field of battle and defines the courageous person as the one who faces without flinching the prospect of death in battle. Mansfield, however, expands the arena of struggle to include the whole of politics and defines the manly man as the one who is willing, in the arena of politics and if need be on the field of battle, to fight in order to assert and defend a cause.

Not only will the manly man fight for his cause, Mansfield argues, he will without hesitation sacrifice his life for it. His cause embodies for the manly man a value that both transcends his individual life and expresses his sense of himself as an important and prominent actor in the world. For such a cause no effort is too extreme, no sacrifice too great. When his cause achieves victory against its competitors in politics or in war, the manly man feels vindicated and honored: he and his cause have achieved preeminence. When his cause is defeated by its competitors in politics or in war the manly man feels invalidated and shamed: he and his cause have been rendered impotent and null.

Though Aristotle does not speak of courage in the context of a cause, transcendent or otherwise, he does emphasize that an important factor driving the behavior of the man of courage is his sense of importance—his sense of honor. Honor derives from the estimation of others and therefore can only be earned by means of public display, and no public display draws more praise than the one which the man of courage puts on in that most glorious of public arenas, war. That which fortifies a man’s courage on the field of battle and helps him defeat his greatest enemy—his fear of violent death—is thus the prospect of achieving a fine and glorious end to his life, a death that, though violent, will earn for him everlasting honor.

Mansfield also follows Aristotle by placing his manly man on a moral continuum, positioning him in the moderate mean between two extremes, one of excess, the other of deficiency. In this instance, though, Mansfield diverges significantly from the master. Aristotle identifies the extremes as excessive boldness on the one hand, cowardice on the other. Mansfield, however, populates the extremes of his continuum with those whom the neocons have identified as the modern enemies of individual freedom. At the extreme of excess stand the totalitarian advocates of Nietzschean nihilism: Soviet Communism, Nazism, and Radical Islam. At the extreme of deficiency stand the modern liberals who strive to eliminate conflict by imposing a regime of rules that reduces everyone, inferior and superior alike, to one vapid level of mediocrity and dullness.

Finally, Mansfield follows his mentor by connecting the virtue of courage to the elemental energy of thumos. And it is here that Mansfield departs most significantly from Aristotle. Whereas Aristotle makes thumos a subordinate aspect of the courageous man’s motivation, Mansfield makes thumos the primary motivating force of the manly man’s behavior. Aristotle certainly recognizes that the elemental force of thumos, an irrational force, is connected to the courageous man’s behavior. But Aristotle is clear in his description of courage as a rational response to the fear of violent death. The courageous man, facing the prospect of his death in battle, neither minimizes the anguish that such a death entails nor exaggerates it. He assesses the situation as in reality it is and responds accordingly: he fears the coming battle. But even though he fears it, as rationally he should, he does what needs to be done: he triumphs over his fear and enters the fight, supported by the knowledge that although his death will be painful and even agonizing, it will also be honorable.

Thus, according to Aristotle, the man of courage is characterized by his rationality, by his firm and settled disposition to look at his situation realistically and assess it accurately, without distortion. According to Mansfield, on the other hand, the manly man is characterized by his temper, his thumos, his aggressive drive to enter the political arena in order to uphold a cause that expresses his honor and sense of importance. True, the manly man can bring forward reasons that justify his devotion to his cause, but those reasons are circumstantial and arbitrary and are not grounded in a clear and accurate assessment of the situation. They derive rather from accidents of birth and association. The manly man asserts the cause of his nation or of his party for no other reason than that the cause represents his nation or his party.

His assessment of the situation thus goes no further than his settled conviction of his own importance and that of his cause. Without hesitation, prompted not by reason but by thumos and anger, he asserts the indisputable superiority of his cause and the equally indisputable inferiority of his opponent’s. He does not pause to engage in a rational assessment that exaggerates neither the worth of his cause nor the worthlessness of his opponent’s. Rather, he throws himself into the struggle, propelled by thumos and by anger—anger that his cause is being denigrated and attacked. Firm in the conviction that his cause is superior, because it is his, and all others inferior, because they are not his, he aggressively stakes out his partisan position and fights unremittingly so that his cause prevails and achieves final victory. And he will sacrifice all for that victory because he knows that without it he will be forever deprived of that which gives his life meaning and importance: vindication, validation, honor.

4. History Has Returned and With It the Struggle for Power and Honor

Three great struggles define the modern world, according to Robert Kagan in The Return of History (3-4). One is the “old competition between liberalism and autocracy.” Another is the even older struggle “between the radical Islamists and the modern secular cultures and powers that they believe have dominated, penetrated, and polluted their Islamic world.” The last is the oldest and remains perhaps the most important. The struggle “for status and influence” among the world’s established and newly arrived powers “has returned, with Russia, China, Europe, Japan, India, Iran, the United States, and others vying for regional predominance.”

Regional predominance is based on economic and military power. With power come such tangible benefits as a high standard of living and security from external attack. But to the nation that possesses indisputable power come the equally important intangible benefits of status and honor. A nation does not live by self-interest alone. Its sense of importance, of its place among other and competing nations, also drives its behavior. As Kagan says in his essay, "End of Dreams, Return of History," from which The Return of History partly derives, the current Chinese leadership is “powerfully motivated to return their nation to what they regard as its traditional position as the preeminent power in East Asia,” a preeminence based on both economic and military power. “Perhaps more significant,” Kagan says, “is the Chinese perception, also shared by Americans, that status and honor, and not just wealth and security, are important for a nation.” Japan too, according to Kagan, is driven by a “national ambition to be a leader in East Asia or at least not to play second fiddle or ‘little brother’ to China.” And “Russia, like China and Japan, is moved by more traditional great-power considerations, including the pursuit of those valuable if intangible national interests: honor and respect.”

In the past, the pursuit of national power and national honor has created conflict between and among nations, which in turn has created history. Of course, the national pursuit of power and honor has often proven to be more an irrational pursuit than a rational one. Kagan seems to admit as much when he argues that America in its long rise to global preeminence has been impelled by that distinctively irrational energy the Greeks called thumos. Harvey Mansfield is more explicit and straightforward than Kagan in this regard. For Mansfield, the arena of politics, national and international, is motivationally defined by thumos and anger and hence by the irrational in the human psyche.

History supplies ample evidence that Mansfield’s claim is correct. History also supplies evidence that the rational has been, at least on occasion, a decisive factor in the political arena. Politics has not been and need not be exclusively defined by the irrational. The arena of political conflict has been and can be again rescued from the irrational and reclaimed for the rational. Indeed, Aristotle’s portrait of the man of courage shows us that conflict, at least to some extent, can be grounded in the rational. Before he enters the fight, the man of courage assesses the situation realistically and without distortion. But this capacity for realistic and undistorted assessment seems itself to be grounded in another aspect of human rationality, one that Aristotle does not treat in his Ethics. And it is that aspect of human rationality—empathy—that I will discuss next time.

Note

All quotations from the Ethics are taken from the translation by Christopher Rowe (Oxford UP, 2002). This volume also provides an extensive and very helpful “Philosophical Introduction” by Sarah Broadie.

Crossposted at Daily Kos

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by iampunha | 7/29/2008 08:00:00 AM
The dutiful historian will note that today is the nth anniversary of no notable events in any revolution known to anyone who would write something about it on Wikipedia. (Yes, I take names and dates from that site. I then verify them elsewhere.)

I wouldn't cover any such date today. Not unless it were part of something bigger.

Today is also the date of no significant event in the life of any Beatle, as far as I know.

That leaves but one option.



For the victims of Erich Priebke.

If you have read more than a few of my diaries, you have learned quite a bit about my family. (Since I use full names sparingly, I am not exactly worried about earning myself a stalker.)

If you have read enough of my diaries, you have been introduced rather hazily to a woman well familiar with my crying, my "Holy shit, did you know ... ?" and my fascination with all things trivial.

Most women would frankly not be able to handle me. As my mother said some years ago, "[My son], knowing you takes a lot of energy." She should know. She shipped me off to boarding school when I was 13 because my parents didn't have the energy to deal with me and their three other kids.

Knowing me still takes a lot of energy. It also requires breaking open the modern model of a man and replacing parts of it with very old things. Rather unusual things.

Some of you might think it unfair to spring this on her, to burden her with someone so unusual. To that, I say poppycock. (Well, OK, I type it, but just as emphatically!) She knew what she was getting into when she married me.

She knew I was a big crier. She knew that a week and a half into our relationship (really, on the fourth day we were together, but we'd been separated for a few days). We were lying in bed talking, and as I've done with everyone I think may end up playing a nontrivial role in my life, I was telling her about some relatives of mine she'll never meet. (You will be as introduced to them as you can stomach tomorrow.)

The subject I was discussing, child abuse, is one of more than a few that quickly make speaking rather difficult for me.

She reacted not with scorn or laughter but by holding me so tightly that my face got mashed into her shoulder, which suddenly became quite wet.

I didn't really need anything else to tell me I should keep my own hold on her pretty strong. And about a month and a half later, we were engaged. (And no, I'm never going to tell the story of our engagement in public.



I met my wife when I was coming off a brutal breakup, and one I will never be fully over. (I don't understand the worth of moving completely past a significant event.) My normally unstable self was made even more so by the fact that I was still living with a woman who'd decided to reduce her role in my life and mine in hers -- but who was still living with me. (Can't tell you how much fun that was. She moved out a few months later, ... ah, but that is a story for another day.)

I got to know my wife in our college newsroom. It was not love at first sight; it was us against the world, trying to save English from the fingers of those who thought "different than" is (and was) acceptable. There was never any thought of romance on my part largely because I was trying to rebuild myself from the last thoughts of romance.

And what thought of romance she had was tempered by bad relationships and piles of work. Indeed, the first sniff I got of any desire on her part to see me without red pen in hand was in the waning moments of her last week on campus. I'd been hired to replace her as copy desk chief of the newspaper; she'd resigned because she was graduating.

She IMed me one Monday night (around 1 a.m.) to find out which one of us would be running the copy desk for a special section of the newspaper. I easily had no idea; I didn't even know such a beast was in the works.

At some point in that conversation, talk switched to if I'd be interested in seeing her that night. This led to an amusing moment in which I wrote "No, no [misspelling of wife's name]s on the list of visitors tonight."

I got my first clue of her intentions when she corrected my misspelling and asked if *that* name was on my list.

Ohhhhhh.

See, you don't do that if you just want to come over to talk politics.

And two hours later, she didn't.

And two hours after that, when she left, we hadn't. But my massive cold (another reason I wasn't wild about her coming over; I didn't want to get her sick) had disappeared, if only for an hour.



Were I not so annoyingly persistent, that would have been the end of that story, and I would probably still be in college. (My success in college can be linked directly to having a reason to try. I was engaged when I got my AAS and married when I got my B.S. Just not to the same person.)

At the end of our Monday night visit, see, she said, "Thanks."

I was more'n a little puzzled. And I expressed as much.

"Just ... take it for what it is," she said, and let me inside a little so I could see that she wasn't used to people like me. (I maintain that this is still the case. But the world is not used to people like me.)

Twenty hours later, about 10 hours after I had surprised her at her other job and walked her back to wherever she was going (I don't remember where), I IMed her to see if we couldn't meet up again in a building that wasn't at that point closed (as her office buildings were).

Apparently she thought she'd made a mistake.

Not in picking me, mind. She had no problem with me. She just thought we'd gone too far. She thought I didn't respect her.

Now, to me, when you meet up with someone in a professional setting — with all of your clothes on, and on where they should be — this does not indicate a lack of respect. But again, I did not know much about her past (and I still don't know much about that area of her past).

So I figured I had to be as persistent that night as she'd been the previous one. And while I am totally not giving you even a brief synopsis of that conversation, we held subsequent talks and subsequent meetings.

A wonderful thing, subsequence. More people should do it.

And along the way, we picked a song at random. It was a Sunday afternoon, I think, and we decided we'd go with whatever song played next on the radio station she had on.

You can do a lot worse than The Beatles.



I am not going to detail here all the things that make me a beautiful and unique snowflake, but by Og I have crystal patterns my wife swears she didn't know were physically possible outside a lab setting. She knew what she was getting into with my inability to not cry, my unmanliness and my rather unorthodox mind — skewered for so many years that my wit is dryer than sand and she only knows I'm bullshitting her when she knows the truth. (I've largely stopped bullshitting her when she doesn't know the truth. Too easy otherwise.)

Yes, my wife is married to a man who lies as well as he teaches. And because she has not yet reduced me to a pile of so many pieces of myself, I can wish her a happy 23rd birthday here for all the world to see.

Now, to get her a present ...

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by iampunha | 7/28/2008 08:00:00 AM
Boy, I sure do write a lot about race. I like recognizing people who've worked to improve race relations in this country, and my soul (inasmuch as an atheist has one) feels slightly cleansed calling attention to someone for whom racism is a means, not mean.

And I'm fiercely proud of the stories I've told that have exposed you to the people and events you missed out on in school because The Era of Good Feeling is safer, or whatever. I will never stop looking for stories to tell (though I may slow down on occasion as Real Life intervenes), and I will be very sad if those stories ever dry up.

But however much I can find the information and give it new life, I wasn't there. I didn't put it all on the line.

The Rev. Dr. C.T. Vivian did.

I tell you about what Medgar Evers did, what Myles Horton did, what Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe and the Freedom Riders did in part because of this man.

Where he walked the walk, I talk the talk.

And today I will talk the talk about Dr. Vivian.



For the 14th amendment, passed on July 28, 1868, and one of many steps America has taken on the still-unfinished path to equality among all Americans.

One of the great pains I have felt in writing this series is covering dead people. This is because you should know about them. You should have known about how Henry Ossian Flipper got railroaded by the military. You should have known about Ted Radcliffe, how he and Buck O'Neill and countless others were born too early. You should have known about what Althea Gibson was doing.

This pain is softened by the great pride and responsibility I feel when I tell these stories. And that feeling is augmented when I get responses like these, or like these, or particularly moving comments like this one. But getting to introduce y'all to people you should have known about, but now do because of me, is tremendously empowering.

But I still get there too late almost every time. Sometimes this can't be helped. Sometimes it could have been.

And sometimes it is, like in Dr. Vivian's case.

Dr. Vivian is as alive at this moment as he was in 1947, when he staged a sit-in at Barton's Cafeteria and integrated it.

He was 23.

When I was 23, I was struggling to wake up in the morning to get to class on time.

This man was integrating a cafeteria.

How do you top that? At 23, how do you top seeing social change enacted at your hands?

By giving other people the tools they need to do the same:

Studying for the ministry at American Baptist College in Nashville, Tennessee in 1959, Vivian met Rev. James Lawson, who was teaching Mahatma Ghandhi's nonviolent direct action strategy to the Student Central Committee. Diane Nash, Bernard Lafayette, James Bevel, James Forman, John Lewis and other students from American Baptist, Fisk University and Tennessee State University executed a systematic non-violent campaign for justice. On April 19, 1960, 4,000 demonstrators marched on City Hall where Vivian and Diane Nash challenged Nashville Mayor Ben West. As a result, Mayor West publicly agreed that racial discrimination was morally wrong.


The physical tools they need consist sometimes of only their feet:

Vivian, a member of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) recalls the first major march of the movement: "Four thousand people marching down the street and all you hear was their feet as they silently moved..." Ben West, Nashville’s mayor finally said alleged it was not morally right for the stores to sell the merchandise to black patrons but refuse food service. Three weeks after the that statement, black customers were served for the first time at lunch counters in downtown stores.


And then you pass those tools on to subsequent generations:

Along the [old Freedom Rider] route, speakers rotated among buses to describe their experiences and answer questions. Several came from the “Nashville movement” of brash activists, many affiliated with the same colleges and universities as the students.

Among them were Representative John Lewis, Democrat of Georgia, who was beaten and jailed on the rides; John Seigenthaler, an aide to Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy during the crisis; James Lawson and C. T. Vivian, ministers who advised many of the students; and Diane Nash, who in the early 1960s led sit-in movements to desegregate lunch counters in Nashville and became one of the founders of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee.


If you're Dr. Vivian, you do whatever you think is necessary:

Using non-violent direct action techniques, he opened segregated lunch counters and restaurants in Peoria, Illinois and Greensboro, N.C. ten years before the famous efforts in Montgomery, Alabama.

When C.O.R.E. ended the Freedom Rides, the Nashville group picked it up. That allowed the entry of S.C.L.C. They took the rides on to Jackson, Mississippi, and became the first group of ministers and students to be arrested for actively ending racism in this hemisphere. After being beaten in Parchman Prison, he brought the federal government into action against the abuses in the Mississippi prison system. Martin Luther King, Jr. called the Nashville Movement the most perfect non-violent Movement in the nation.




They got Medgar Evers for doing it. They got Dr. King for doing it. They got Malcom X for doing it. They got little girls in church just because they could. They got a homeless black guy in 1937 for being hungry.

They didn't get Dr. Vivian. He got them, and he got theirs, and he got their society, and he still has it.

He still has it, and he's every bit as courageous as he was when he organized a march on Nashville in response to a bomb:

At 5:30 am on April 19, a bomb was thrown through a front window of Z. Alexander Looby's home in north Nashville, apparently in retaliation for his support of the demonstrators. The explosion almost completely destroyed Looby's home, although Looby and his wife, who were asleep in a back bedroom, survived without injury. More than 140 windows in a nearby dormitory were broken by the blast.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rather than discouraging the protesters, however, this event served as a catalyst for the movement. Within hours, news of the bombing had spread throughout the community. Around noon, nearly 4000 people marched silently to City Hall to confront the mayor. Mayor West met the marchers at the courthouse steps. Reverend C. T. Vivian read a prepared statement accusing the mayor of ignoring the moral issues involved in segregation and turning a blind eye to violence and injustice. Diane Nash then asked the mayor if he believed that lunch counters in the city should be desegregated. West answered, "Yes", then added, "That's up to the store managers, of course."


Dr. Vivian has been doing it since 1947. And he's still doing it. He's still talking the talk and walking the walk.

Don't believe me?

Listen to him your own self:



2:19 in (but watch the entire thing. Oh, Lordy, watch it all):



That's the kind of faith I can get into.

That's the kind of movement I can get into.

And that's the kind of man I can get into.

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by Winter Rabbit | 7/27/2008 04:16:00 PM
Petition: Medals of Dis Honor




Twenty-three soldiers from the Seventh Calvary were later awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for the slaughter of defenseless Indians at Wounded Knee.

We are asking that these Medals of DIS Honor awarded to the members of the 7th Calvary of the United States Army for the murder of innocent women children and men on that terrible December morning be rescinded.


Credit & permission for image to & by:
www.myspace.com/removewoundedkneemedals
Photobucket





Crossposted at Native American Netroots

A feather was lying on the sidewalk when I left work; I picked it up and looked closely at it. Carrying it as I walked, there was a baby bird beside my car, homeless. The baby bird had no wings and just stared at the pavement in the darkness, moving its head up and down. Several thoughts came into my mind as I watched and realized picking the bird up would get my scent on it and cause rejection from its mother. I thought about the suicides on reservations, the lack of justice on reservations, climate change, alcohol and drug addiction in the American Indian population, health concerns of American Indians, and the worries of the American Indian People in general. I then looked at the bird again, relating to it.

It is precisely things like “Twenty-three soldiers from the Seventh Calvary were later awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for the slaughter of defenseless Indians at Wounded Knee,” counties and national parks being named after Custer, streets and so on being named after Sheridan, and Chivington Colorado being named after Chivington, that can lead me to feel like that bird with no wings staring at the pavement in darkness. Interesting, there isn’t a town, street, river, tank, or monument named after Hitler in Israel, nor would any medal of honor be bestowed upon a Holocaust Overseer. But the dominant culture in America, a term applied only to those doing harm, needs a rationalization when there are ”national indigenous movements fighting to protect their dwindling territories and the right to manage the natural resources.” Why rescind “the Congressional Medal of Honor for the slaughter of defenseless Indians at Wounded Knee” when condoning genocide works so well? Let’s take a trip to the past to make a correlation in order to outline the right thing to do.


I had gotten into a discussion with a woman in Cheyenne about Washita, and she told me how a couple men coordinated an event of reconciliation. It involved a reenactment with Sand Creek Massacre descendants and grandsons of Custer's 7th Calvary at the same location Black Kettle was exterminated by Custer. Paramount was the re-burial of a child victim's bones.


The descendants camped where Custer's 7th Calvary had attacked Black Kettle's camp one century earlier; however, they were unaware that the grandsons of Custer's 7th would be coming over the hill firing guns with blanks in them. When the 7th Calvary's grandsons came towards them on horses firing blanks in their weapons, there were many feelings of surprise, fear, anger, and betrayal experienced by the Sand Creek Massacre descendants. Remember, the Sand Creek Massacre descendants and the ones who were slain at Washita were the same individuals.


Unknown to the Cheyenne, a California group called the Grandsons of the Seventh Calvary, Grand Army of the Republic, had been asked to join the Reenactment-

A line was formed after the reenactment with the grandsons of the 7th Calvary, who obviously wanted to help in this healing, at the front of the line. Lawrence Hart, a Mennonite pastor, felt very angry as he watched the bones of the child being passed down it towards the front. A Native woman then put a blanket over the little coffin containing the child's bones, which continued to be passed down the line to Hart. The blanket was then handed to him.


"Among the Cheyenne was Lawrence Hart, a peace chief and a Mennonite pastor. The celebration became tense. The final event of the day was the re-burial of the victim's remains. The small coffin was covered with a beautiful new woolen blanket. According to Cheyenne tradition, the blanket would be given to a guest."


"The older peace chiefs asked Hart to give the blanket to the captain of the Grandsons of the Seventh Calvary! He couldn't believe what they were asking. This man was the enemy! Hart's own great-grandfather, Afraid of Beavers, had barely escaped the attack by hiding in a snowdrift."


"Hart was tense. As the captain came forward, Hart told him to turn around. Hart's trembling hands then draped the beautiful blanket over the captain's shoulders."

"It was a grand moment. The wise Cheyenne peace chiefs had initiated peace.
The Grandsons embraced the chiefs. Some cried. Some apologized. When Hart greeted the captain, the officer took the Garry Owen pin from his own uniform and handed it to Hart."

"Accept this on behalf of all Cheyenne Indian people," the captain said. "Never again will your people hear Garry Owen."



Read that last sentence again said by the captain, and remember that "Garry Owen" was the song Custer had his band play right before the exterminations began at Washita.


"Accept this on behalf of all Cheyenne Indian people," the captain said.” Never again will your people hear Garry Owen."





The lady I spoke with said there wasn't a dry eye left.





Now, forty years later, it’s time for “Never again will your people see a ‘Congressional Medal of Honor for the slaughter of defenseless Indians.’” Please sign the petition if you haven’t already.

Petition: Medals of Dis Honor



Twenty-three soldiers from the Seventh Calvary were later awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for the slaughter of defenseless Indians at Wounded Knee.

We are asking that these Medals of DIS Honor awarded to the members of the 7th Calvary of the United States Army for the murder of innocent women children and men on that terrible December morning be rescinded.


Photobucket

Mitakuye Oyasin

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by Unknown | 7/27/2008 10:37:00 AM
Would anybody like to put forth an opinion on this? I haven't read Carroll Quigley's book Tragedy & Hope, nor even heard of it, so I have no idea whether Tocque (who's been known to go off the deep end occasionally) has got something worth talking about or not. But I'm intrigued. Anybody want to fill me in on the context?

One of my essays on Carl Becker has been published at HNN.

Here are two great posts on the anniversary of the Detroit Riots, by David Noon and Tom S. (who literally wrote the book on race relations in Detroit during the middle of the last century). Oddly, David's post reads more like Tom's book than Tom's post does, at least to me.

What's on your mind?

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by iampunha | 7/27/2008 08:00:00 AM
On July 27, 1953, America's military involvement in Korea officially ended.

Raise your hands, anyone who thinks that really ended the Korean War.

I don't. My mother grew up with a man who'd been shaped by that and other conflicts. I have an uncle I barely know in part because of how much time his father (previously covered here) spent away from home.

The Korean War ended, but it isn't over. As long as we have veterans and civilians changed by that war, it isn't over.

And as long as I have M*A*S*H, it isn't over.


For Jeremiah Dixon, born on July 27, 1733, who with Charles Mason brought about a much less contentious surveying line than the 38th parallel.

And now, as before, as ever, my unending gratitude to those who served.


I am not a historian. I am a storyteller. What I have to tell you today is one part history and many parts story.

Almost none of it relates factually to the end of the Korean War. And almost all of it relates personally to the end of the Korean War.


There are a lot of moments from M*A*S*H that mean a lot to me. That's partly because I grew up listening to reruns. (The TV was feet outside my room, and my parents watched it while I was supposed to be asleep. Don't tell, OK?) And that's partly because M*A*S*H was a good show.

About a minute and 40 seconds' worth of "Abyssinia, Henry," the episode in which McLean Stevenson's character is killed, are burned into my brain. Just thinking about the two sequences gets me to where I'm damn glad I can type without looking:

4:17 in to 5:57 in:



I don't even have to watch the sequence for my face to be obscured behind my tears.

And I didn't lose anyone in that war. For me, the symbolism embodied by Henry Blake's death is not physically embodied in anything. I have no son, brother, father, whatever who left standing up and came back lying down.

But every time that sequence comes up, I am moved to tears so quickly, and I can barely breathe so suddenly, that I think I scare my wife. Anyone who didn't know me might think I had lost someone in a war. (I have not seen and should not see close combat, for this and other reasons.)

This is not the only thing that drives me to tears hard and fast. Writing my Schindler's List diary was a case study in writing through tears. By all rights, the laptop I was using should have shorted out. And last night, seeing Tommie Smith and John Carlos (on a repeat broadcast of the ESPYs) was as moving as anything I've encountered. (Yeah, expect a diary on that. I know stuff you need to know about it. Everyone with a functioning brain ought to know the story.)

But the relative ease with which emotion leaves me somewhat incapacitated detracts none, I humbly submit, from the power of that sequence, from what it meant to the characters on the show and what it symbolized for the Korean War and war in general.

Nobody is safe.

Nobody's sacrifice can be taken for granted.

And no veteran should have to fight the system to get what's right.



At realistic best, we are about 2/3 of the way through this war. It has produced more than 4,000 American stories like Henry Blake's, but every one of them is about a real person who died, not some character wearing another man's suit.

And we will never know how many such Iraqi stories ... will never even be told. How many men and women have died because of this fiasco we lost before we set foot in the country whose citizens were magically supposed to know things were safe because one man was dead.



4:17 in to 5:57 in:





You watch that sequence and tell me real men don't cry.

I dare you.

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by iampunha | 7/26/2008 08:00:00 AM
On July 26, 1948, President Harry S. "No, really, it's just S" Truman issued Executive Order 9981.

Unlike FDR's Executive Order 9066, which established internment camps in the U.S., largely for the Japanese, EO 9981 did not enshrine bigotry. Rather, it sought to eliminate it.

This was 83 years after the Civil War, three years after black soldiers had helped liberate France and put Hitler in his place (a hole in the ground), one year after Jackie Robinson had become the face of black baseball players — and 82 years after the Army established the first all-black military regiments, which we know today as the Buffalo Soldiers.

Those Buffalo Soldier regiments are today desegregated, in part because EO 9981 declared "equality of treatment and opportunity for all persons in the armed services without regard to race, color, religion or national origin."



For Sitting Bull, who on July 20, 1881, surrendered.

For Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, who on July 21, 1969, took one giant leap for mankind.

For Spilliam Wooner, born on July 22, 1844, who paved the way for his own name to me bangled.

For the lives forever interrupted by Treblinka, which opened on July 23, 1942.

For Alexandre Dumas, born on July 24, 1802, who made prison escape an educational subject.

And for Rosalind Franklin, born on July 25, 1920, whose contributions to the structural knowledge of DNA should be more than a footnote.


In a comment on an entry on baseball, Daily Kos user Yasuragi said:

You can tell the entire history of the US through baseball. Which just gives me chills.


That portion of Yasuragi's comment is pretty accurate. Baseball was functionally all-white from 1889 (when Moses "Fleet" Walker got kicked out) to 1945, and while the genesis of the negro leagues does not mirror black participation in the military, there is a different parallel that strikes me.

In my piece on Henry Ossian Flipper, I quoted Frank W. Sweet at some length. Included among his cited passages is the following:

In short, the nation needed a cadre of African-American families with traditions of military command. The first step was to grow a crop of bright young Black lieutenants. The second step would be to get them married and producing little future colonels and generals. This is why, when Congress ordered the racial integration of the Army in 1867, it was the Black soldiers themselves who talked Congress out of it. Integration then would have condemned African-Americans to the enlisted ranks forever. Segregated regiments were intended as a temporary sheltered greenhouse where the Army could raise its first crop of Black line officers.


I have found little else online regarding any attempt, in 1867 or any other year in the 19th century, suggesting that Congress or the Army ever tried to officially desegregate the Army in the way Truman did. There are the Buffalo Soldiers, and many scholars have pointed out that black and white soldiers worked together plenty in patrolling and securing the Midwest and West in the years after the Civil War.

But it's the notion that the black community recognized that a desegregated military would have no (or scant) opportunities for black advancement that so interests me -- because such a thing has inarguably been a direct result of integration in baseball.

The Negro Leagues -- the established body founded in 1921, and the first league to last any significant amount of time -- gave opportunities to black players, sure. But they also presented business opportunities for black people who couldn't hit but could manage, or who could do marketing or public relations. And for the player who had passed his physical prime but still had all his wits about him, coaching was absolutely an option.

Ted Radcliffe, whose playing days were all but formally behind him when Robinson formally integrated MLB, was coaching Negro League teams in the 1940s. He wasn't the first. The 1921 effort owed a lot of its success to Rube Foster, who in 1921 was 42. (Fitting, no?)

With the formal integration of baseball came the very quick death of the Negro Leagues. And while the best black players were earning spots on MLB teams, the best black coaches weren't exactly getting front-office opportunities. Into the mid-1960s, sports writers often wrote of the black's superior physical skills and the white's superior thinking skills. (The predictions regarding the 1966 NCAA men's basketball championship read like so much Joseph Conrad.)



There are today very few prominent black executives in baseball, but there are few in general who are not what we'd call white. Recently, sports analysts have started worrying about a downswing in the percent of black players in MLB.

The more I heard analysts talking about this, the more I wondered why anyone didn't bother to quote statistics from football or basketball -- or, y'know, the nonsports world. After all, some people use athletics to get scholarships, through which they then get degrees in marketing, economics, public relations, that sort of thing. And where yesterday's middling athlete was making it professionally for a handful of years, today's middling athlete is that really competitive guy in the office who seems to sharpen his elbows for the occasional pickup basketball game.

When I heard that black players represented less than 10 percent of all the MLB players, I wasn't surprised. This was for two reasons:

1) MLB wasn't counting people like Andruw Jones, former Atlanta Brave and current Los Angeles Dodger center fielder, because he is from Curacao, not America, and thus is not considered an African-American.

2) If you have speed, great hands and great hand-eye coordination, are you going to focus on a sport in which you're making big money when you're 25 or one in which you're making big money at 19? I don't begrudge any natural athlete for going where the money is. If I had my way, I'd do exactly the same thing. And factor in the much more hyped college basketball/football season: The NCAA men's basketball championship and the BCS championship receive worlds more attention than the College World Series. Why not take the hint and go where the money and attention are?



A long road I've traveled from President Truman to the media's role in shaping race and sports. But hopefully the quotation with which I began this diary justifies it. And hopefully I've given you something new to think about on this lazy Saturday morning.

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by Winter Rabbit | 7/24/2008 12:08:00 AM
”You introduced legislation (S1973-1 and S.1003) and claimed that legislation was justified by a non-existent range war between the Dineh and the Hopi," Andrew Jackson said -

andrew

- to McCain.


McCain & Bush


“Your bogus claim that the Navajo and the Hopi were having land disputes when the truth was they weren’t, was refreshing to me and reminded me of my intentions to steal their land at any cost to them.

At.



Source

The Dineh (otherwise known as Navajo) were stripped of all land title and forced to relocate. Their land was turned over to the coal companies without making any provisions to protect the burial or sacred sites that would be destroyed by the mines. People whose lives were based in their deep spiritual and life-giving relationship with the land were relocated into cities, often without compensation, forbidden to return to the land that their families had occupied for generations. People became homeless with significant increases in alcoholism, suicide, family break up, emotional abuse and death.



Any.



"I feel that in relocating these elderly people, we are as bad as the Nazis that ran the concentration camps in World War II."

Roger Lewis, federally appointed Relocation Commissioner upon resignation



Cost.



"I believe that the forced relocation of Navajo and Hopi people that followed from the passage in 1974 of Public Law 93-531 is a major violation of these people's human rights. Indeed this forced relocation of over 12,000 Native Americans is one of the worst cases of involuntary community resettlement that I have studied throughout the world over the past 40 years." -- Thayer Scudder, Professor of Anthropology, California Institute of Technology in a letter to Mr. Abdelfattah Amor, UN Special Rapporteur on Religious Intolerance



To.

Them."






“You introduced legislation (S1973-1 and S.1003) which resulted in forcibly relocating the elderly and helped create what Scudder called “one of the worst cases of involuntary community resettlement that I have studied throughout the world over the past 40 years" and what Wager called, “the largest forced relocation of U.S. citizens since the relocation of Japanese-Americans during World War II.” And, you “claimed” that legislation was justified by a non-existent range war between the Dineh and the Hopi.”

“You’re hypocritical like I am,”


Andrew Jackson

"It will be my sincere and constant desire to observe toward the Indian tribes within our limits a just and liberal policy, and to give that humane and considerate attention to their rights and their wants which is consistent with the habits of our Government and the feelings of our people."


andrew


"aren’t you?

McCain & Bush




Source

The justification for Public Law 93-531 passed by Congress in 1974 was that the Navajo-Hopi land dispute is so serious that 10,000 Navajos near Big Mountain, Arizona, must be relocated, forcibly if necessary. It would be the largest forced relocation of U.S. citizens since the relocation of Japanese-Americans during World War II.

But tradition-minded Navajo and Hopi claim there never was a land dispute. They say the dispute was invented to get the Navajos and their livestock off mineral-rich land in the Hopi reservation so it could be developed by mining companies such as Peabody Coal and Kerr-McGee.


AREN'T YOU!!!"




Source

John McCain's political history is loaded with abuse of his position concerning lobbyists. Since posting actual links is against HuffPo policy, do the simple research yourself.

Look into the forcible removal of the Dineh tribes, known as the Navajo, in Arizona. Follow his ties to Atty John Boyden and the Peabody Western Group (nka Peabody Energy) and their advantages gained from McCain's legislation S1973-1 and S1003. He pushed Atty Gen Reno in forcing them off their treaty lands and onto
a nuclear waste site (Church Hill, Nevada) through the "Relocation Commission" Look up PL 93-531. Genocide for the expansion of mining rights. Follow the money that supported his political career from the energy elites that own the Mohave Generating Station in Nevada. John McCain is a corrupt politician and the evidence is there to prove it. posted 02/21/2008 at 11:28:47

John McCain "knows what's best for America", and that's Straight Talk, my friends....unless of course you're a Native American.


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