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Thursday, November 14, 2024

John Adams: Patsy or Prophet?

I've been ruined by the musical Hamilton. It's songs still echo at the slightest provocation. For example, I'm reading a book, Hamilton, Adams, Jefferson: The Politics of Enlightenment and the American Founding by Darren Stadoff and every time I open it to the chapters about John Adams, I hear King George scoff, "Adams? They'll eat him alive!" Well, as it happens, the song and characterizations are catchy, but the musical's version of history is a little off. That's okay, though. It's excused. It's still brilliant. And so, it turns out, was John Adams.

The Enlightenment, you will recall, heralded the age of reason we take so for granted now - the idea that human reasoning ability holds the key to any knowledge worth having, that science trumps faith, and that rationalism is capable of paving the way to as close to utopia that mankind can achieve - and came by the pens of thinkers like Rousseau, Voltaire, and Locke. And all of this at exactly the time this country was being born. So of course, as educated men, the founding fathers of this country were influenced by it, but each had their own wrinkle and I found Adams' particularly compelling.

Adams was not a successful President. He followed Washington and was voted out after one term in favor of Thomas Jefferson, but he had some compelling ideas that made me think of our country, especially as it lines up today, angry battle lines ready to fire at one another at the slightest provocation. 

Adams' take on mankind contemplated the degree to which the equality of mankind was possible. He agreed that people have the potential, even the mandate, to reason, but as they work toward it, are often ruled by pure passion. When we say equality, we don't often mean it, envisioning a mass of people more or less equal to one another, but presided over by, hopefully, ourselves, rising just above the masses or lacking that, presided over by someone more wealthy, more motivated, or more gifted. Equality is fine, in other words, but we are more comfortable when there is someone in power more equal than others. 

Whoa! Whoa!


Don't shoot the messenger!

Think about it a minute. How do you see the world? How does anyone? It's not possible to see the world through any eyes other than our own. We are always the central character in the story, in any world we experience. It can't be any other way. I can't see the world through your eyes or you through mine. It's not possible. We have a deep love for ourselves that automatically makes us self-centered and selfish. That's why our emotions are geared toward individual experience and, inevitably, individual welfare. It is our only reference point. 

That doesn't mean we're corrupt. It only means we care about ourselves more than we care about anyone else. We tend to admire people whose desire for the improvement of others brings them personal notoriety - Nelson Mandela, Mother Theresa, Eleanor Roosevelt. Their passion for compassion may render them more pure of heart, but even they cannot live the lives they try to improve. They are merely living their own. 

But let's look at most folks. We say we want equality. We want an egalitarian society, where everyone has their say and the will of the people is enacted without interference from an elite nobility. 

But we don't. 

We don't. Think about it. Communism doesn't work. The French Republic drove them to chaos. These happen because the will of an amorphous, uneducated, or uninterested people can't be trusted either. Like it or not, we look at power as a zero-sum game. If one person has more, that automatically means someone else has less. And we want to be on the side of the more. We tend to ignore that with power comes work and responsibility. Many of us don't want that, either. Look at how many people, even in an election as seemingly important as the last, didn't bother to vote at all. More than 35%. What some people want is a comfortable life determined by someone else, someone smarter, richer, or more advantageously placed. They want a kind of equality but at the same time want to be ruled.

Actually, our government is designed to accomodate both camps. The Senate represents the elite, the few. The House of Representatives represents the many, the commonplace folk. The Presidency, designed to maintain a balance, actually operates on one side or the other to accomplish the agenda of the party in power, but the power of the Presidency lasts only as long as the President remains in office. 

Adams understood that a pure democracy will always be short-lived and the source of its own undoing. We do not have a pure democracy, nor do we really want one. 


A modern Roberspierre would inevitably rise up and those looking for a strong leader would support him. America, after all, has its own aristocracy. Every society does. Actors, sports stars, Musk and Jobs and Gates and Trump. They are our modern aristocracy and we expect them, not us, to get things done. 

John Adams knew this and it wasn't more welcome news then than it is now. Yes, they ate him alive for it, but he thought the truth worth the torture. I would probably not stand as he did in front of a firing squad for it, but as difficult as it is, I welcome the divided government he believed to be essential and look to it as the foundation of the struggle that paves the way forward.



Photo: Farside, Redbubble



Saturday, November 9, 2024

Why Baking is Dangerous for Philosophers

I made pumpkin custard for breakfast today. Last week, I bought a good-sized whole pumpkin at the grocery for only 99 cents. At the time, I didn't know what I was going to do with it exactly, but since then, it has become a lovely yeast bread and savory soup. Today, with a couple of cups of cooked pulp still left over, I decided to make custard. It was easy - I had everything already and only took a few minutes courtesy of my handy dandy immersion blender. After mixing everything, I poured the silky pumpkin cream into cups, about 3/4 full.

After about an hour in the oven, this is what I got.

Look at them. Eggs and heat made them rise far above the edge of of their rims into things of true beauty, giving me more out of the oven than I put into it. Intellectually, I know at least part of why this happened. Eggs are leaveners and help baked stuff rise and I also whipped air into the mix, so it becomes a kind of pumpkin souffle. 

 

But I've also been reading The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. Dangerous territory for almost any activity because it's Camus' stage for explaining the absurd - the state in which nothing makes sense after a certain point. The natural world will eventually extend beyond our ability to explain it. Our own reason will collapse when it reaches a certain threshold. When we reach those points, we are suspended over an abyss and have to figure out what to do next.

There are ways out of this, of course. God or magic, for instance. In those places, the absurd doesn't matter so much any more. Of course, there's another way to look at the unexplainable, and that's to start with allowing for it. If we assume from the get-go that we won't be able to figure everything out, that reason only takes us so far so we might as well not depend so heavily on it in the first place, that maybe the Enlightenment didn't do us so big a favor after all, well, life gets a lot more interesting. 

So, this morning, looking at my little pumpkin souffle-custards and in spite of knowing at least some of the science that spawned them, I've decided to yield to the inevitable absurd, to allow the beauty of my custards to be magically granted or God-graced miracles. That way, I avoid all looming contradictions. 

But then again, maybe allowing for the beautifully unexplained just makes me feel special. 



Wednesday, November 6, 2024

For Those Who Woke Up Disappointed - a Lesson From Rosa

 


The morning after a presidential election in the United States always finds some people unhappy, feeling disenfranchised and unheard, maybe even afraid for what the future will bring. A lot of people woke up that way today, and I get it. It's hard to lose, especially when the stakes seem so high. That's why I want to offer us all something to help put our situation in perspective - a reflection that arose from our new president-elect's first term. I read The Soul of America about six months ago and kept it in my Kindle library, thinking I might need to take another look at it and today, I do. 

Jon Meacham isn't just a historian. He's also something of a philosopher in that he doesn't only examine events. He looks at trends, at how events take root over time, how they take their place as part of a greater whole and, in this book, he doesn't discuss only what happened in history but tries to refocus our eyes on the future based on what we've done in the past. His view showcases the line of human striving that rises persistently from mankind's first caves to today's declarations of freedom. Humans, as it turns out, know we are extraordinary and we will not stop trying to realize it. Whatever is happening today, we try to achieve something better. Sometimes, the run to freedom becomes a crawl under fire, but the trend upward has less to do with who is in power than what is in our hearts.

For those who feel there is less hope today than there was yesterday, well, Meacham differs. We've been here before - as a nation, as people - and we have used adversity to rise. Whoever got elected yesterday did so because they promised more people than their opponent to make things better and people believed them. It remains to be seen what will happen now that the collective voice has been heard. 

Our individual voices, however, even those in the minority, do not have to be silenced. In fact, in this United States, it is sometimes the minority voice that raises the loudest cry.

So, this morning, we have a choice to make. If we have raised a concern for decency, for inclusion, for generosity and the freedoms that go with them, now is the time to show we mean it. Now is the time to extend a hand to help, not a fist to threaten. Now is the time to continue to welcome the stranger and immigrant in whatever way we still can. Now is the time to build whatever bridges are possible. Now is the time to show that when we said we want progress and decency, we meant it. What the government may not want to do, we, as individuals each in our own small sphere, still can. What we do now can inspire boldness in upcoming generations. 

We may not have realized our short term objectives, but the election mattered less than we might have supposed anyway. What does matter is showing the world we are who we've been claiming to be - free and decent. 


All Rosa Parks did was to sit on a bus. Surely we can do at least that much.