Identity and the State

President Obama made headlines recently for a speech in which he emphasized the societal foundation of any person's success.  Unfortunately for him, though I believe revealingly, he fell victim to the soundbite era: "If you’ve got a business - you didn’t build that.  Somebody else made that happen."

"And Mr. President, if you become the president, who made that happen?"  This would be a weak question: I believe that Mr. Obama's strongly stated beliefs originate in his own experience, that of accepting and working in the machine.  I suspect his irritation - at "guns and religion", at those challenging ACORN and other interest groups, at the steadfast unwillingness of the American people to give in to his vision - is honest, that it is the bafflement of one who has accepted a view of the world and found it not held as widely as he expected.

On a superficial level, the President's viewpoint is attractive and reasonable.  It contains some idea of a community, working together, holding to a common good; it presents some echo of the polis which, idealized by Plato and Aristotle and Cicero (if in different ways), resounds through the centuries of Western history and still informs the world today.

But Mr. Obama's view has a weak point: a crisis of mis-identification, or at the very least a crucial identification which he has failed to convince the United States' people is either crucial or a true identity - and perhaps more damningly, he has failed to understand that the point is still under debate.

For Mr. Obama, as for much of the academic, legal, and political elite he has grown to belong to,  the people, and specifically the will of the people, is identified with the government instituted by the people.  He does not follow the earlier understanding, where the government was the representative of the people; or even the older idea that the government stands above the people (by breeding or divine will - or both) and is therefore responsible for them.  A representative who represents poorly can be changed.  A father, judge, or a commander, held up as such by the thinnest string of theory or tradition, can be called to account and shamed - or deposed.

Instead in this modern conception, the government cannot be held in check by theories.  A government defined as "the people's will" simply by the fact of its existing as the government has nothing that can be called up against it except natural or divine law, and those having been busily undermined in the name of "reason" and "tolerance" and "relative morality" because everything originates with the people's will - which is, as we already found, simply the government.

I believe President Obama is confused by backlash against his policies.  As the chief executive, he appears is the supreme embodiment of the popular will which is to be enshrined, and he has been busily enacting all the policies he knows are best.  The fact that law and tradition stand in his way is not to be considered an obstacle, in his view: laws change.  In the President's view, I suspect reality changes.  He does not understand, does not know what to do with, a people who believe in lasting truths, in an actual rule of law because it is the law, in not a good or good policy or today's best option but in the Good.

Yet this philosophical confusion is not really the most damning indictment of his speech and his policies.  After all, if he is right - that is to say, if my speculations about Mr. Obama's worldview are correct, and that worldview is itself factual - then he is doing the right thing, and is merely a poor politician, or at least a tactless one.

The worst problem with his attempted solutions is that even on his own terms, it ends up either backwards or tyrannical.  If we take the more positive view, we stop to ask him who these people were that helped.  Certainly, a state of peace is maintained by the government, the servants of the people: the soldiers, police, road crews, and so forth.  But these are for maintenance only.  The next question leads us to the practical problem faced by these bureaucratic-faced dreamers: who takes us beyond subsistence, and who pays the ones who help us to subsist.  The awkward fact that President Obama has yet to acknowledge is that it is the successful men - the Mr. Romneys and Mr. Gateses and, yes, Mr. Obamas of the world - who help the rest of us: by paying outsize shares of taxes, by hiring and training workers, by providing necessities and comforts and then even luxuries.

This puts us in their debt: it is not right to go demanding that "the rich" pay "their fair share" when they already pay, relatively speaking, that and more; when they not only provide those moneys to the government but in the private sectors hire and pay us who are not so wealthy - and to return to the public arena they largely, for good or ill, provide our government from their number.  It may happen, in this day or in a time of war or or stress, that we need not only a normal contribution from these men but an unusual one: but justice demands that, even if we ask it, we ask it - however formally and with whatever force of law behind it - recognizing that we take from them for a common good or need, and not as if demanding a debt owed to us personally.

This is the charitable view: that President Obama, used to seeing so much given out regularly, has forgotten it is given, and sees it only as taken and that by right.

The uncharitable view - which I hesitate to ascribe to him, but you will see argued by others, I have no doubt - is one that reduces to serfdom any private person who is not himself an agent of the government.  More than mere forgetfulness, or blowing on some wind of the age, this would assert that the government has the right and duty to demand whatever is "necessary" - and has forgotten the older theories of reciprocal duties, so that now all is owed to the government, and the government's dole is charity.  And here we find the sinister descendant of what I mentioned above as Mr. Obama's probable political philosophy: we observe that the government has become the State, and the Will of the People, and the actual people reduced to so many resources to be commanded to produce.  No doubt Mr. Obama considers his a benevolent guidance, but he gives no indication that he sees any right of anyone to disagree with that guidance.

Statue Stupidity

Evidence presented during the trial and conviction for child abuse of Jerry Sandusky, former defensive coordinator of the Penn State football team, all-but proved - as had been suspected already from new reports - that there was substantial cover-up of Sandusky's crimes by university officials and staff, probably implicating the late coach Paterno among others.

Some hooligans are suggesting that Paterno's statue be taken down.

Absurd as it is for Paterno to have had a statue on campus while still alive, not to mention still coach, it was and is a measure of what he has meant to the image and idea of the institution.  The image is tarnished, perhaps forever, but taking down the statue is not going to help things.

Should the United States remove Thomas Jefferson's memorial from its capital because the man kept slaves, and perhaps abused them?

Should Nelson's statue come down from Trafalgar square because he was an adulterer?

Should you have to put on your resume that you've "borrowed" supplies from your office, exaggerated your hours, gossiped about your boss, encouraged and laughed at stories that weren't true, yelled at your children because you had a bad day?

Paterno's legacy before this scandal was that of a great coach and an upright man; if it turns out he was more human than we realized, then Diogenes is right once again.  While we cannot trivialize the evils committed, it would be willfully ignorant and vindictive to pretend not to see the case from Paterno's side; what should you do when a good friend and subordinate is charged with something this abominable?  If you prefer to believe Paterno's motives were more venal, it is still not difficult to understand the desire to sweep under the rug something which would threaten his prestige - and maybe even his job: coaches have been fired for less cause than crimes committed by a subordinate.

If Penn State takes down the statue, what they say is that they refuse to acknowledge the good he did that earned him his place; that they want to disassociate themselves from something like the last sixty years of their sporting history.  If the crime was Paterno's, then such a heinous act might deserve the erasure.  But when the misdeed is not even his, and in fact evidence suggests that what allegations he knew he dealt with as required legally - even if he failed morally by not ensuring justice was timely - then we are looking at overreaction.

No, But Thanks

About a year ago, a passed a high school student I had never seen before on the sidewalk while meandering around my neighborhood of Del Ray.  He stopped and asked me how I was doing, which I thought was a little odd, before he continued, "Didn't you used to teach science at T.C. Williams?"  To which I had to answer that I had not.

Last week, I was picking up students from the airport for our second session, and one particular plane I was waiting for also contained a contingent of young Marines, in what the sci-fi books call "civvies" but which the Corps no doubt has an idiosyncratic term for, clearly looking for a handler, I mean superior.  Of the dozen or so, nearly every single one took a couple steps towards me before correctly identifying me as Not A Marine.  (I realized later this might have had something to do with the khakis and blue t-shirt I was wearing -  equally it might have had something to do with my parents teaching me to stand up straight.)

At contra on Friday, an older woman I was talking me remarked that she could tell I was "obviously a dancer" from the way I moved, which I found amusing considering the students I teach and the fact that all my family I have almost certainly done the least dancing.  (Once again, perhaps all those admonitions to stand up straight and not scuff my feet had some effect?)

I seem to be a person who looks like people.  Perhaps I should have been an actor - or at least a stunt double?

Notes on Giselle

On Thursday evening I went to see the Paris Opera Ballet's performance of Giselle.  Unfortunately, the vast majority of everything I know about ballet I have learned some time in the last ten months by osmosis, so this is more a ramble than an actual review.  I have now reached the point where I can usually spot the big mistakes, of which there was one: the male lead stumbled badly during a variation in the second act.  The third male dancer with a solo (if you have a solo, but your character does not have a name, where does that put you in the hierarchy? I have no idea) also was somewhat unsteady during his pas de deux.

I still find it mildly confusing that ballets are often, if not usually, referred to as [choreographer]'s [ballet].  I realize that the dance is the main thing, but I am much more familiar in most cases with the music.  For instance, the Mariinsky will be in town in October with what I would have naively called Prokofiev's Cinderella, but the playbill calls it Ratmansky's Cinderella.

At any rate, Giselle's music was composed by one Adolphe Adam, a French composer who I happen to know now was almost exactly a contemporary of Berlioz, though musically less ambitious (and perhaps therefore less famous).  For the most part the score is good but not superb - fairly unremarkable, in fact.  However, at one point a climax of the dance of spirits in the second act is marked in the choreography by a repeated figure of what I will call a traveling arabesque.  Physically it is incredibly impressive; and the music here abandons its quiet eeriness for a dramatic build.   Unfortunately, Adam's score is here, if not actually in a major key (and I think it might be), still somewhat martial rather than ominous, making the effect somewhat comical, which breaks the mood rather thoroughly.  It was, true, not helped by the stage of the Kennedy's opera house, which registers every footstep, and thus had the effect of emphasizing the beat and therefore the marche of the music.  (I imagine that is a common problem though - I can not think there are too many stages anywhere in the world specifically designed to deaden the sound of pointe shoes.)

On the whole, though, the show was excellent.  The company struck me as a very technically focused one (where the Bolshoi, which did Coppelia a while ago, seemed more dramatic - though the ballets themselves are also very different).  The set was superb - I am still accustomed to college and community theater sets, so I find these fancy professional ones especially striking by comparison.  I particularly noticed the acting: while ballet acting is by necessity somewhat stylized, the "style" here was not overwhelming the story.  I imagine that there has to be some tendency similar to the actor who keeps trying to "do Shakespeare" instead of focusing on his part, but it was not evident here.

Incidents in the Life

Humor

A student was telling me about something "only our class knows".  In the middle, one of her classmates came up, overheard, and started panicking.  "What do we know?  I don't know what we know!"  I managed not to laugh.

Diminishing Returns

A chain clothier is advertising 4-for-1 suits for their "valued customers", aka people who got on their email list by buying something from them once.  Which I suppose is a good deal - but I don't need or want even one suit.  I already have two!

Nature vs. Nurture

I turned on the radio, on my drive home, in the middle of the second movement of Brahms' 1st Symphony.  Much to my chagrin, it took me a couple minutes to determine whether the composer was Brahms, Beethoven, or possibly Dvorak; I then failed to remember whether it was the 1st or 3rd symphony until the third movement began.  I suppose this is a silly thing to worry about, but the way I was raised I should have known it practically in my sleep.  (Not a silly thing to worry about: I apparently don't have a recording of any of Brahms' symphonies.  I am really quite confused as to how this could have happened.)

Review - Prometheus

Fans of previous Alien-franchise movies seem to be widely disappointed with this prequel, and I can make a guess why.  It is not really a horror-suspense film like Alien, or a basically straight up action movie like (I gather) the near-equally acclaimed Aliens.  In fact from what I can make out from vague memories of Alien (the only one I've seen) and recaps of other films, Prometheus has little to do with the franchise apart from being set it the same 'verse and featuring a Plucky Female Lead.  Calling it a "prequel" may even be misleading because I am fairly certain the events depicted in Prometheus virtually guarantee a continuity screw-up somewhere, if only in terms of what characters ought to have known "later".  So, for someone invested in the franchise, I can see lots of issues coming up.

Considered as a film standing on its own, though, it is a good one.  The only major problem is the final scene, which is an unnecessary continuity nod.  The visuals are superb; the scenario is intriguing; the conflicts are carefully set out; the resolution follows relatively well from the premises.  On the downside, the movie is disjointed in places, and will likely not be winning any awards (especially with Avengers coming out this year, unless we still have awards people insist on only giving to "serious movies").  Apart from the leads much of the acting is adequate only.  I would not be surprised to find out production was rushed: the end of the film relies more on impression than polish.  It also feels rushed, and I cannot tell whether this was an artistic choice to communicate characters' emotions, or forced on the director to wrap up in time.  If the former, it is less than entirely successful.

I consider my $11.50 well spent (and the extra four dollars to see the 3D likely would have been worth it), and would probably give the film an overall B or B-.

[Here There Be Spoilers]

The conflict in Prometheus really does not have anything to do with the aliens or the scientist's "Engineer" hypothesis.  The movie, in my interpretation, really follows the different reactions of Dr. Shaw, human archeologist, and David, android linguistics expert, to the unfolding discoveries and then disaster.  David, in fact, seems to sabotage the operation, whether from curiosity or malice - revenge?  Shaw is an odd combination of curiosity, determination, and faith - seemingly unable to see past the questions she wants answered, but also capable enough to be the only survivor.

The unfolding horror element of the film is a scenario, a setting to watch reactions.  A disturbing setting, which overshadows some of the more thoughtful elements and makes them lose their punch, unfortunately: fewer special effects and more "character time" would have improved the movie, if I am reading it correctly.  The movie seems to set out to explore the question, "What does it mean to create, or be created?" - but even though the discoveries overwhelm the philosophy, I do not think the intended message is, "Let well enough alone," as attested by the end: continue the search.

The plot, here, concludes; but the questions remain.  I find myself intrigued by this film, but unable to say exactly what my question is, even.

Words With the Meaning Removed

"[FDR] knew that fascism is capitalism without boundaries, that both fascism and communism (with a small "c") are apolitical, and that economics trumps politics every time."
- Bonnie Blodgett for the Twin Cities Star-Tribune

First, let me admit that Blodget does have the right of the case, in material terms, in one particular.  She has figured out that "reckless spending at all levels of society" is largely to blame for the current fiscal problems and credit crunch.  The bubble always bursts.

You would think this would probably make her a Tea Partier - but you would apparently be very, very, wrong.  Actually cut spending?  Maybe reduce taxes to encourage the economy when the spending cuts start making us able to afford it?

Nope: Blodgett just wants to hammer "the [Republican] elite" some more.  After all, if it was not for their "spin", everyone would know overspending is bad.  (Again, I do not want to be too hard on her, because it sounds like she really would make a good Tea Partier if she had any idea what the current argument was actually about.  Her factual deductions are reasonable, but her causes are wildly misunderstood.  The temptation is to blame "the mainstream media", but since my acquaintance with CNN is maybe monthly 10-minute segments at McDonald's, and any other television even less, I would be talking about I-know-not-what.)

But the real problem here, as cited at the top of this piece, is that Blodgett has no idea what her vocabulary means.  Facism as apolitical?  Name the world's three most (in)famous facists: that would be, yes, Hitler, Mussolini, and Franco.  Facism is not just political but overwhelmingly political.  It is totalitarian; it is total control.

Communism can claim to be apolitical in final goals; but it would be more accurate to call even that goal anti-political.  And in the reality, outside of small communes (largely protected by the rule of law imposed by traditional societies) or the interactions of families and friends, communism has never attained to any "height" beyond socialism - to the point where the two in practical terms are synonymous, though conceptually different.  Socialism, as I used to assume everyone knew, means the state has control of the means of production (either by ownership or heavy regulation).  Anything that involves the state is political by necessity and definition.

Capitalism, on the other hand is only incidentally political.  Of course it is more comfortable and possible in some political climates than others, but a capitalist, considered only as a "capitalist" and thus speaking only with regard to the economy, is unconcerned by anything about government that does not affect his market; I suppose this does make him a bit heartless but it does not make him particularly political.  But in conversation, on the one hand, "capitalism" is (mostly Leftist) short-hand for "people who are more successful than I think they ought to be", or sometimes, "not paying me what I think you should".  (Okay, I guess maybe it is more commonly, "You don't pay that guy what I think you should.")  On the other hand, we use the word capitalism more technically to refer to the system of a free market which is essentially unregulated.  Of course, this means a capitalist economist will stand against, politically, socialism, fascism, mercantilism, etc. - any system designed as or with elements of a "command economy".  A capitalist is therefore likely to support some political views and reject others.

What one real problem is, of course, is so-called "crony capitalism", where the businessman goes to Washington to get regulations passed that favor him, or to pull down contracts by quietly greasing palms.  This practice is apparently as old as civilization itself - but it is worth pointing out that in a deregulated market it would be nearly entirely pointless.  "This legislation would really help my business, and I'm carefully not mentioning that it would hurt my competitor."  "And you want us to regulate the market why?"

Blodgett ends up blaming risky finance not on, for example, government regulations enforcing and subsidizing cheap loans, but on "deregulation".  She talks about rises in campaign spending, but does not ask who is spending, or on whom.  "Economics trumps politics", she says, while protesting that the economics winning the political argument are bad economics, "reckless spending".  She clearly is looking to beat up on the crony capitalists, but does not realize how the environment of regulation enables interference with governance (after all, the government started the interference first).

Off the soapbox.  What I am trying to point out here is that even trying to analyze this piece is almost pointless.  The words are misdefined and then misused even in their redefinitions; isolated examples and broad generalizations are used to evoke a worldview, rather than an argument; logic is attempted but muddled beyond recognition.  I am sure there are better examples, maybe even good examples, of writing making a similar point, if I only knew for sure what the point was.  There are probably equally horrible examples of work attempting to make an opposite case.  But my point is that this column of gibberish got published, and that fact means that American journalism, particularly the Star-Tribune, ought to be ashamed of itself.

Notes from a Concert

Last night I went to the NSO concert, which began with Berlioz' "Roman Carnival" overture and featured the Cello Concerto in D minor by Lalo (recordings at the link are filed by composer's name).  But the "second act", and the real reason I went, was the performance of the 5th Symphony of Tchaikovsky, of which I will speak in glowing terms to any and all interested or uninterested parties.

The Berlioz was a typical Berlioz piece: which is to say, beginning (fairly) quietly, dramatic in spades, and carrying an air of being unfinished: perpetually in action and therefore incomplete.  Given a hint from Barzun's biography of the composer, I have been noticing that Berlioz' work often features the flute, his own instrument, prominently; much more prominently than I would have suspected from his violently romantic reputation, as I tend to think of the flute as a more sedate instrument.

The cello concerto I had not heard before; in fact I am completely unfamiliar with Lalo's work apart from his famous Symphonie Espagnole, otherwise known as "one of the staples of the violin concerto repertoire".  Like the Symphonie, the cello concerto features the solo instrument prominently, being in fact almost entirely cello-with-accompaniment, a thing in my knowledge more common in shorter sonata works.  While a solid piece, I did not find it particularly striking.  The third movement features a slow introduction leading to a fast and elaborate conclusion, but it seemed to me poorly handled: whether the composer or the interpretation was to blame is beyond me right now.  Since I haven't bothered to go find five other recordings to listen to, that is.  At any rate, the concerto's chief claim to fame seems to be in being one of the first concerti written for the cello.

Tchaikovsky's 5th is my favorite symphonic work.  I do not say it is the best; even the composer's own 4th is, I think, more technically excellent.  Other composers mastered the expectations of the form in its Beethovian re-incarnation much better: Beethoven himself, of course; Brahams despite his humility; maybe others.  Others, pre-eminently Mahler, took the form in other directions consciously, rather than emulating Tchaikovsky's habit of writing unusual third movements, so the story goes, not for artistic reasons but because he was never happy with his scherzos.  At any rate this performance was excellent, despite the unfortunate oboe player who decided to test his reed during a rest.  The only particular note I will make is that, hearing the performance live for the first time - and this after the Lalo concerto - I noticed that the first movement of the symphony is practically a bassoon concerto: the instrument gets little rest and is featured prominently.

In fact the performance, perhaps partly due to being the last of the weekend, earned a standing ovation which provoked a double encore; the first was - I believe but am not sure - a part of Georges Enescu's 1st Romanian Rhapsody - the fast part at the end, of course, but the whole is good.  The second was Johann Strauss, Jr.'s Thunder and Lightning Polka - a childhood favorite!

Monument District

Last Thursday I went to the Kennedy Center.  I was there merely to pick up tickets, but in the early morning it was quiet except for a lawnmower and a minimum of the unavoidable DC traffic.  I was struck for the first time by the monumental quality of the building.  Of course I can read, inscribed on the side, that the full name is the John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts - no wonder it is commonly shortened! - but I had only been there before after dark.  In the sunlight, it stands out brilliantly: a curious fusion of modern design and classical references.  In its form it draws on the architectural traditions dating to Greek temples; in material it is often modern: the columns are steel, not marble.  And the interior, of course is the series of lovely theaters, making the entirety a temple of sorts in form and function to Art in its Modern-Romantic conception.

The Lincoln Memorial is more familiar to most people; the striking outside, again reflecting classical temples; less remembered is the quiet inside.  Where the Kennedy celebrates - gilding, and flags in all colors hanging from the ceiling - the Lincoln reflects.  In a strange way, the interior of the Lincoln Memorial is an intimate space: a fitting monument for a great man who was, at least in legend, also very much a man of the people.

I also visited the World War II Memorial.  It is different once again: an open-air space, proclaiming and preserving in wind and weather the uncommon achievements and valor not of one great titan but of thousands of "ordinary" people.  A simple oval, with columns standing over it and water running through it; not the cheerful bubble of the Kennedy fountains, or the calm of the Reflecting Pool, but grandeur evoked by a small artificial fall and a single large pool with fountains arranged in classical patterns.

Today, four days later, is Memorial Day.  Where I have briefly noted the contrasts between these three great structures, all are meant to endure - and more than that, to suggest endurance and timelessness by their very construction.  Stone for the buildings, or steel: things meant to last.  Water: essential for life.  Gold: the symbol of timeless value.

We know the greatest monuments crumble in time, and the greatest human actors have had their flaws, but.  It is appropriate for these buildings to be the best, the longest lasting, the most beautiful and stately, in order to commemorate great men and their accomplishments: men who achieved great human things and stand for us for virtues we should value: courage to do what is right, vision of lasting ideals.  We do not remember these men, leaders and soldiers, for being "pretty okay people" but for what they did.

The challenge is not admiring the men, or their monuments.  The challenge is not the artistic evaluation of these piles of stone.  The challenge is to live up to the model.

Not Even as a Scribe

One comment I have gotten on my refereeing over the Spring - as I move on to the bigger and better world of high school games - is that I lack "confidence".  It has taken me quite a while to figure out exactly what this (probably) means, because in one sense confidence is not a problem for me.  I am, for the most part, quite capable of carrying on in my opinions regardless of what anyone thinks.  So, confidence as such is not exactly the problem.

It would be more accurate, I think, to say what is lacking is presence, in the stage sense.  I came to this conclusion following a sequence of two games, at the same school, dealing with the same coach.  The first I centered; the second I was on the line.  The comments the assessor gave me at the end of my game were generally positive but focused on this lack of confidence and some problems with what we call mechanics - the signals used to communicate fouls, goals, restarts, and so forth.  The coach was not happy with me in general - but then, he lost.

Then in the second game I noticed the center was, probably, worse than me in some ways mechanically.  His positioning was better than mine; but his signals were largely muted and occasionally inaccurate.  What he did have, though, which I find hard to hold on to, was control of the game - a parent said afterwards it was the best refereeing he'd ever seen, which almost certainly is not true but speaks volumes for the game control he did have.

There are, I think, three ways to referee a soccer match and still maintain control.  From worst to best, you can enforce The Rules, you can call "Your Game", or you can call The Game.  Learning and enforcing the rules is where anyone has to start, of course; without the rules - at least in essence - anything higher is impossible.  This is where I find myself most of the time, still - and it is problematic for two reasons.  If you make mistakes (as I do with some regularity) you call your understanding and judgment into question.  Or, if your understanding does not match the expectations the spectators, or worse, the coaches' - or worse yet, the players' - you can lose their goodwill: especially dangerous if your expectation has let the game become too "loose", that is, violent.  But the second problem is that, even when done right to exacting standards, you run the danger of coming off as, for lack of a better term, a legalistic jerk.  But at least you have the game under control.

It is therefore necessary to move on at least to the stage of being able to call "Your Game".  I would say - as an observer - that this is where the other ref I mentioned is.  The central hallmark at this stage is that the referee has internalized the rules and more importantly the flow of the game, so that the result is a consistent standard resulting in clarity and control.  The important word there is "consistent".  Many stupid mistakes are forgiven if you make the same stupid mistake for everyone.  Lack of precision is okay if you are consistently imprecise, and do not miss anything big.  For myself, the diagnosis to get here is, I think, either to watch many more games or start playing again - probably both - and of course to continue to referee, and more carefully.

Finally I suppose a referee can call The Game.  The rules are known; consistency is achieved; the mechanics are there; and the game is allowed to play out as it should.  A well-called match on the premier or international level will, I think, reach to this ideal (though poor decisions may reduce a crew to trying to call "Their Game" or even "This One Game That How Did We Get Here?")