Borders

June 29, 2009 by i2heart2this

niagara

(Full disclosure: These days I’m writing for The Blog of Kevin Dolgin.  Reflecting on one of his sayings, found on page 10 of The Third Tower Up From the Road, I was moved to say a few things back.)

I deplore the presence of borders and cross them whenever possible, sometimes just to spite them.
Kevin Dolgin

I grew up in Niagara Falls, New York, which is right across the river from Niagara Falls, Ontario. One of my favorite things to do, as a young teen with very limited resources and an unlimited desire to get out of the house, was to take a walk over to Canada. There were two bridges, one at the north end of town and one at the south. The one at the north end was older and more utilitarian. Cars were stopped and their business politely inquired into, but a pedestrian would go along a rustic path and through a turnstile and onto the

Because it carried only a small fraction of the tourist traffic, the old bridge at the north end of town was the kind of place where a kid could dawdle around, suspended above the Niagara River gorge, and philosophize, and dream. The bridge was bisected by a perpendicular white line of white paint, across the pavement and sidewalks. That was the international border. I could be making this up, but it seems like there were two of those white lines, with an inch or so of space in between. There’s a strong visual memory of parallel lines separated by a gap, and I can’t think where else it could have originated. And I seem to remember wondering what, exactly, was in that space between the lines, that was neither Canada nor the US.

You could stand with one foot on either side of the line (or lines) and be in two countries at the same time. You could remain there and inhabit both countries for five minutes or ten minutes, yet the two halves of your body would still be symmetrical and pretty much interchangeable. A baby born in one particular spot would be American. Born twelve inches away, it would be Canadian. If it were born in the exact middle, would it have dual citizenship, or none at all? If you committed a crime right there, straddling the line, which country would claim the privilege of arresting you? If you dropped dead, which country would pick up the body?

The whole border concept seemed weird and arbitrary. It was a mystery. The water that roared below did not restrict itself to flowing along one side of the river or the other. Still ignorant of what borders meant in such contexts as, for instance, Europe during World War II, I grew up with the notion of a border as a thoughtlessly permeable and basically inconsequential thing. It was only when the Vietnam draft kicked in, that borders started to mean something.

Yeah, sure, wouldn’t it be great to have just one big happy world, with the same set of rules for everyone, the same chances for everyone, and all that good stuff? Only, as some ornery libertarians persist in pointing out, bigger systems inevitably become worse systems for the people who live under them. If everything were uniform, planet-wide, there would be no “there.” No place to escape to, no way to get off the grid, no where to go for a fresh start. A world government is not the kind of experiment which, if it didn’t seem to be working out well, could easily be called off. About borders, I remain ambivalent.

photo courtesy of exfordy, used under this Creative Commons license

Shine the Light

June 21, 2009 by i2heart2this

My very favorite art form is the Appreciation. When I find somebody or something I can endorse wholeheartedly, it’s the best kind of piece to write. I’d rather expound upon the reasons why Norman Spinrad is a great among the greats, than write about why the world sucks. One reason why the world sucks is that so many people enjoy pointing it out so very much.

It’s frightening, how many of the world’s prescribers and proscribers have truly horrific home lives. If you can’t form a society with one or two, or a dozen other people – meaning a community that works for every member of it – then how can you be telling anybody how to run entire towns and countries?

Once in a while, I wish all the people who know how to run the world would pause for a moment and ask themselves, “Who am I to tell anybody anything?”

And you, dear reader, might well ask, who is Pat Hartman to tell anybody anything? Well, guess what. I have as much right to speak up, as an archbishop or university professor, or, really as anybody. On any topic. Everybody has an equal right to their say. That doesn’t mean anyone has to listen.

But that’s not the real point. Having the right to speak is only a starting place. There’s a big difference between saying “Everything sucks” and “This is what’s true for me.”

I hear a dear reader saying, “Okay, I’ll try it. This is what’s true for me. Everything sucks.”

And you’re entitled to that opinion. More than entitled – obligated to speak it, if that’s what you think. As long as the disclaimer “This is what’s true for me” is attached. Because ultimately, the only two true things a human can say with absolute certainty are, “I feel” and “I want.”

And I’m entitled to the opinion that it’s more productive to look for the things that don’t suck, and illuminate them.

Dedicated to Senor el Tecolote Loco

RELATED:
Venice in a Time of Love: An Appreciation of Stuart Z. Perkoff
Wanda Coleman
Ace Backwords: An Appreciation
Michael Ventura: An Appreciation

I Didn’t Vote for This

June 7, 2009 by i2heart2this

hail1small

Here, on June 7, 2009, we have an extreme weather event in Fort Collins, Colorado. Hailstorms seem to happen about once a year here, and when they do, fun is had by no-one.

hail2Most of today’s hailstones are definitely as big as peas. Some are the size of hominy kernals (not grits) and some approach the size of chickpeas. When they land on the grass, they bounce like fleas, or popping corn.

hail3The local university had a hailstorm study called COCORAHS. People used styrofoam slabs wrapped with tin foil to preserve the impact profiles of hailstones that fell in their area. The program may not still be going on.

hail4The land needs the moisture, sure, but not in this format. All over town, people are assessing the damage to their gardens, trees, cars, and (although hopefully, not too many of these) their outdoor animals. I’d worry about the homeless, but they seem to have been pretty well driven out of town the past few years.
I’m sure glad this didn’t happen yesterday, when the Gay Pride festival was going on in Old Town. Imagine what some mindsets could have made out of that.

hail5After the first onslaught, for a while it just rained. And then the hail started again, only briefly this time. Not enough, surely, to do any more damage than had already been done.

hail6

Ben Hecht and Bill Haywood

March 30, 2009 by i2heart2this
rosse_217

Herman Rosse's interpretation of Bill Haywood

Ben Hecht was both the most cynical and the most–well, uncynical–writer. He certainly knew about the mind’s ability to hold two different, contradictory beliefs at the same time. Hecht was all too aware of cognitive dissonance in himself and others.

The things that people say and believe in and for which they die and in behalf of which they invent laws and codes–these have nothing to do with the insides of people. Puritan, hypocrite, criminal, dolt–these are paper-thin masks.

As he relates in A Thousand and One Afternoons in Chicago, Hecht knew Bill Haywood. In 1918, the union leader had been convicted of espionage, and was out of prison with the case on appeal. Hecht, who had last seen him a couple of years before, ran into Haywood in 1921 and found him to have “the same crooked-lipped smile. And his one eye staring ahead of him with a mildly amused light in it. A rather striking person was Bill. I suppose it was because he always seemed so calm outside.”

Hecht was surprised to find this dedicated political activist in such a frivolous place as a theater, and said so.

Haywood replied that he’d made a list of plays, both musical comedies and dramas, and of cafés and other venues, and had spent the previous month visiting them and checking them off the list. The inference Hecht drew, was that Big Bill Haywood was storing up on some good times before going to the penitentiary to serve an inevitable 20-year sentence.

Less than a week later, Haywood disappeared, and later turned up in Russia, where he lived for the rest of his life. Hecht realized that the plan had been in place all along–no wonder the man was calm! “Yes sir,” Hecht tells us, “this Big Bill Haywood, the terror of organized society, was saying goodbye to his native land as if he were a sentimental playboy.”

RELATED:
The hero of Boxcar Bertha is supposedly based on Bill Haywood

A Thousand and One Afternoons in Chicago – Rosse on the illustrator

The Frail in the Veil

March 18, 2009 by i2heart2this

passport

Here we have a photo of a veiled woman. Its ostensible purpose is to provide a visual means of identifying the subject, to which one can only say, “Huh?”. The paradox is almost too much to contemplate. It’s hard to say which aspect of this concept is most stupid.

First candidate: the entire women-as-property ethos. I like to respect the religious beliefs of others, but dammit, making humans cover their faces, like all the rest of the misogynist creed, wherever it is found, is just repugnant. I’m not in favor of women wearing veils unless they want to, and surprisingly few do seem to want to.

So that’s the first stupid thing. The second is: even bothering to take a picture. A principle of equal treatment? People who have no faces are afforded the same opportunity as those with faces: a means to prove or disprove their identity and their very existence. Seriously, would this picture stand up in court as a solid ID? No? Then what is it doing on this passport?

Or maybe it isn’t so stupid. “We have the technology!” was the motto of the 20th century. It won’t be the motto of the 21st century, because humans won’t be around on the planet long enough to look back on the century with nostalgia, or to identify the most characteristic slogan of that century.

So, who needs a whole face? By now we must certainly have the technology to identify an individual from a photo showing one approximate centimeter of flesh. Which many Muslim women do show. This devout lady, however, reveals nothing.

The next stupid thing is, it gives the bludg an excuse to grab more identification markers. “Yes, modest Muslim women are allowed to wear their veils to be photographed,” say the authorities. “This is why we must also have an alternate means of ID, such as fingerprints. And of course we wouldn’t want to discriminate, so that means everybody gets fingerprinted”. Still, this ID method would not capture data from bilateral amputees, so there must be retina scans… and so on, ad nauseum, ad absurdum and ad infinitum.

The fourth thing, and I won’t call it stupid because that would be offensive, but it sure does cause a person to wonder. Doesn’t Islam forbid the making of images? And specifically, images of people? But in order to move about in the modern world, the leaders of the faith apparently are willing to cut the faithful some slack. Well, why not cut them some slack in the matter of veils, infibulation and, you know, that kind of thing?

Top Ten Linguistic Bloopers 7 – 10

January 14, 2009 by i2heart2this

Decimated Nauseous Prone Aquiline Somewhat Unique State of the Art Older Laundry List Changed the Course of History, and Could Care Less

(Dedicated to the proposition that words mean something.)

bigbigger
Something has happened to the word older. Let’s back up and start with a parallel example. Visualize a big sandwich, perhaps 4” thick. Now picture a bigger sandwich. How much bigger? Maybe 2” of extra bread and cheese, making it a 6”-thick sandwich. It’s bigger than the big sandwich. Bigger means more than big. It means big plus. However thick that first big sandwich may be, the bigger sandwich is – well, bigger.

For some incomprehensible reason, however, popular usage is tending reverse the meanings of “old” and “older.” People are using “old” to mean a bent-over crone in her 90s, and “older” to mean a silver-haired tennis player in her 50s. This is totally backward, and just about the stupidest vernacular innovation in a long time.

Also, to be old-ER, there has to be something to compare it to. There’s an implied question – Older than what? First, you have to establish the quantity of “old”. If a big sandwich is a 4” sandwich, let’s say that an old person is 70. Okay, now there’s something to compare to. A 4” sandwich is big, and a 6” sandwich is bigg-ER. A person of 70 is old, and person of 90 is old-ER.

olderExamples from real publications:

“…an older woman in her late 60s…” Older than what? Older than anyone from age 1 to 65, sure. But not older than anyone who is 80 or 90 or 100. It’s stupid.

“Older women buy a lot of shoes.” This makes no sense because if you ask the question, “Older than what?” there’s no answer. It’s stupid.

“HIV/AIDS and the Older Woman” Older than what? Stupid.

“… how older women’s identities are socially constructed…” Older than what? Also stupid.

This quotation is the star:

“Most infertility specialists define an older woman as one who is more than 35 years…”
Remember, “older” means “more old than old.” So by this reasoning, a woman of 34 is old. In fact, anything less than 35 is old, because 35 is old-ER, and that means it’s older than something.

There are times when “older” makes sense. It makes sense to say, “an older man told me,” because he’s older than someone. He’s older than me. It makes sense to title an article about intergenerational romance “Older Women and Younger Men,” because in each couple discussed, the woman is older than someone: specifically, the man she’s dating.

list

Why must it always be a laundry list? WHY WHY WHY must the word “list” always be preceded by the word “laundry”? It’s like “old abandoned.” Is there some kind of federal law that the word “abandoned” must always, always be accompanied by the word “old”? It’s as if they were conjoined siblings, never to be separated. Same with “laundry” and “list.”

Wretched examples:

“… a makeup artist who boasts a laundry list of celeb clients…” Only it’s not a laundry list – it’s a CLIENT list!

“a serial murderer whose victims form a laundry list of some of the most notorious unsolved cases…” It’s not a freakin’ laundry list, it’s a list of VICTIMS, and has nothing to do with laundry.

Stop it!

We live with a whole collection of myths about how things are. For instance, you’ve heard the phrase “It changed the course of history!” What the hell is the course of history? This implies there is a script where everything that’s going to happen is written down and it can’t be deviated from. Sure, there is – invented by some gnomes who live in caves on Saturn. They write it up in a big book, and boy, do they get ticked off when something comes along to change it!

No, I don’t think so. Reassuring as it might be to think there is a Course of History, there isn’t.

In another sense, everything changes the course of history. Not just big things like the assassination of a president. Every time I breathe, it changes the course of history. You too. It’s the Butterfly Effect, which some call the Trimtab Effect, repeated over and over again billions of times every day. Every time something happens anywhere, it changes the course of history. Which, in that case, doesn’t exist.

I could care less” is just about the stupidest thing anyone can say, because what they mean by it is “I couldn’t care less.” In other words, they don’t care at all, not one little bit. But – “I could care less” means that they do care, which is of course the opposite of what they think they’re saying.

Devaluation of words, degradation of the language? Most people could care less.

Top Ten Linguistic Bloopers 4-6

January 12, 2009 by i2heart2this

Decimated Nauseous Prone Aquiline Somewhat Unique State of the Art Older Laundry List Changed the Course of History, and Could Care Less

(Dedicated to the proposition that words mean something.)

aquiline

An aquiline nose is a curved nose. Aquila is Latin for eagle, and an aquiline nose is curved like an eagle’s beak. So I Google the words “straight” and “aquiline” in conjunction, and in the first ten results, there are six instances of a “straight, aquiline” nose. How can this be? It can’t. If a thing is curved, it’s not straight! If it’s straight, it’s not curved!

Anne Perry writes some interesting novels, but has a fetish for describing the nose of almost every character in those books as aquiline. In Defend and Betray, there are TEN. Three short aquiline noses, one long aquiline nose. One character has a “curious face with its aquiline nose.” Another has a “nose aquiline and yet broad.” Then there’s a child, “his nose short and already beginning to show an aquiline curve.” Another character has an “aquiline nose that looked almost as if it had been broken,” and one has a “crooked, aquiline nose.” Not content to stop at noses, she says of another character that his “face was aquiline.” Good grief.

“Curved or hooked” is the dictionary definition of aquiline. Another dictionary says “thin, curved, and pointed like an eagle’s beak.” The thinness factor would eliminate Perry’s character whose nose is “aquiline yet broad.” And pity this poor other character, the one whose nose is apparently thin, curved, pointed and crooked, all at the same time.

Memo to Ms. Perry: cool it with the aquiline noses, okay? You’re embarrassing yourself.

unique

The world would be a better place if no-one ever again said somewhat unique. Unique is unlike any other. There’s only one of it. Unique is an all-or-nothing proposition. A thing is either unique or it is not. There is no “somewhat unique,” period.

State of the art, thank Goddess, isn’t heard so often any more, but it sure went around the block enough times to get tired. Probably 15/16ths of the time when people use that phrase, they don’t have the foggiest idea what they mean by it anyway. It morphed into meaning something like the French phrase, le denier cri, the last word, the latest and greatest.

But much, much worse is beyond state of the art, a totally meaningless aggregation of words. Remember the amplifier in Spinal Tap those volume dial went up to 11? Whether you call it 11 or 10, if it’s the highest number on the dial, it’s still the loudest level. “Beyond state of the art” is only in the realm of imagination. The minute a thing is realized, that’s the state of the art, right there. Maybe something was formerly “beyond state of the art,” when it was on the drawing board, but the minute it exists, it automatically becomes the state of the art. Yeah, there are writers who might say “beyond state of the art” in a tongue-in-cheek way, facetiously, as humorous hyperbole, but people are out there using it with a straight face, as if it actually meant something.

Top Ten Linguistic Bloopers 2 and 3

January 12, 2009 by i2heart2this

Decimated Nauseous Prone Aquiline Somewhat Unique State of the Art Older Laundry List Changed the Course of History, and Could Care Less

(Dedicated to the proposition that words mean something.)

nauseous

Here’s what makes me sick (little joke there, very little) – not knowing the difference between two words that have opposite meanings, such as nauseous and nauseated. Don’t say “I feel nauseous” unless you admit to being offensive, loathsome, sickening and vile. “Nauseous” describes the thing that causes nausea, not the person who experiences it. A pile of rotting meat is nauseous, and causes those who encounter it to feel nauseated, unless they are carrion birds or jackals.

prone

prone

People, people people…. prone means face-down. Face-up is “supine.” A hand, for instance. If you turn it palm up, as if to hold soup in it, the hand is supine. Turned the other way, palm down, it is prone. A human body is prone when the front of it is down, in contact with the ground, the bed, or other horizontal surface. Best-selling author Sandra Brown doesn’t know this, as shown in Chill Factor, Long Time Coming, etc. In her Hidden Fire, a prone man is asleep with his hat over his face, snoring. There’s a prone woman, who gives birth to an infant and then stares at the sky – all in a face-down position. The heroine, “hypnotized by the bulge between his thighs,” gazes at the prone body of a man. I’d be hypnotized too, if I saw a man whose package stuck out the back instead of the front.

The most appalling misuse of the word was in a novel whose title is blessedly forgotten. In it, the protagonists scamper about in a cathedral, where the carved likenesses of knights lie prone on their carved stone coffins. Butt-up is a very undignified posture for an honored warrior’s statue, created to adorn his sarcophagus throughout eternity, is it not?

In fact, almost no authors or editors seem to know what “prone” means. Writers of dissertations don’t know, and prestigious academic institutions are in ignorance. An article from Stanford University, about the effect of music on the brain, describes subjects lying prone inside an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) chamber. Okay, I wasn’t there, but – prone? I doubt it.

On one of his very popular radio shows, Alexander Woollcott once chided a local newspaper: “In one of our better New York dailies I read a description of a well-dressed woman lying prone on her back on Fifth Avenue. I’d like to have seen that. Must have been quite a sight……”

The most notorious abuser of “prone” was Stokeley Carmichael, in a wine-lubricated conversation with fellow members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, back in 1964. The civil rights activist was reacting to the recent publication, by Casey Hayden and Mary King, of Position Paper: Women in the Movement. Carmichael cracked, “The position of women in SNCC is prone.” Alluding, of course, to sex. The fact that prone means face-down adds insult to the already-inflammatory comment by implying doggy-style or worse.

In A Hard Rain Fell, David Barber says that in the context of the Mississippi Summer Project, the remark was both humorous and true, since a lot of the Northern white women volunteers took the opportunity to do more than register voters. Carmichael was let off the hook by his contemporaries, including feminists, who said it was just an inside joke, because he was a true supporter of women in the movement. (If he’d said that in so many words, “I support women in the movement,” a double-entendre could be easily heard by anyone whose mind inclines that way.)

Top Ten Linguistic Bloopers 1

January 5, 2009 by i2heart2this

First, let’s agree that words do and should mean something. The very act of reading this page is an act of faith in the idea that words mean something, and a testimonial to it. And if we can’t agree that words mean something, what’s the point of ever talking at all? If words mean nothing, maybe we should all just shut the hell up for a change. But that’s a whole different discussion.

Word abuse is a blight that impoverishes our language, IMFO. This top ten collection of abused words has no particular order. They’re all culprits. Here’s how you can tell they are parts of a set. Read this as a headline:

Decimated Nauseous Prone Aquiline Somewhat Unique State of the Art Older Laundry List Changed the Course of History, and Could Care Less

Decimate is a word with an exact meaning, inherent in the word itself – TEN – as in, the Decimal System. It comes from the army of ancient Rome, where discipline in the ranks was maintained by decimation. Here’s how it worked. If the troops misbehaved, the officers would line them up, order them to count off, and summarily execute every tenth man. To decimate is to destroy one-tenth of something. That’s what it means. But….

Here are some examples, from books or news stories, of how the word is misunderstood and abused, and how that contributes to debasing the language.

decimated

— In Iraq, the “now-decimated Republican Guard….”

One out of ten is not a bad loss, militarily speaking. I’m sure this writer meant “devastated.”

— This is about a forest where wood was obtained, to rebuild Chicago after the catastrophic fire of 1871. It says the fire “indirectly did more to decimate the forest…” than something or other.

The point is, loss of one-tenth of a forest is not, relatively speaking, a great loss. It could have been far worse, and probably was, only this writer doesn’t realize it, and thinks “decimate” means something close to “destroy.”

— Even the great Jonathan Franzen disappoints, by this phrase in The Corrections: “..bearing the names of decimated tribes…”

I think he means something much closer to “tribes that were wiped out, or almost,” which is a much more tragic situation. A tribe that only loses 10% of its members is a tribe in pretty good shape, actually.

— “Most of mainland Europe was decimated.”

In this incident, many more than ten percent of Europeans died. Because of its inaccuracy, the “decimated” is bad enough, but then there’s the “most,” which is worse. What’s being said here is: most of a continent was one-tenth destroyed. And that makes no sense at all.

— From a suspense novel: “The Manning presidency was decimated….”

How do you kill one-tenth of a presidency?

— “the multimillionaire owner who has decimated the Santa Barbara News-Press…

It may be possible to kill one-tenth of a newspaper, but I’d like more evidence. Besides, one-tenth isn’t so bad, compared to how many newspapers are… you should excuse the expression… folding.

Ten is a number, like any other number. It has an immutable meaning. To decimate is to kill one-tenth of a group of people. I know everybody else in the world misuses it, but you and I, being the brilliant scholars we are, ought not to.

What’s Up with Clarence Darrow?

January 5, 2009 by i2heart2this

REFLECTIONS ON HIS BOOK, RESIST NOT EVIL

Most of us don’t know much about the revered attorney Clarence Darrow, and this treatise on crime and punishment will remedy the lack. The first thing that strikes the reader is the great man’s unworldliness. He seems less in touch with human nature than a cloistered nun. He asserts, for example, that “No parent ever teaches his child any other philosophy than that of love.”  He believes that schoolboys don’t pick on weaker boys. “The old, the young, the feeble, children and women, are especially exempt from violent deeds.” He feels that most unlawful deeds are committed “hastily in the heat of passion or upon what seems adequate provocation, or through sore need.” This belief must have been severely tested when he defended Leopold and Loeb, the notorious young men who killed a boy just to see if they could meet the intellectual challenge of committing the perfect crime.

Darrow appears to have been dazzlingly naive. He thought that penitentiaries are full of men who stole to feed their kids. Maybe it used to be so, but what would he say about the recent trial of the “party planner” for a large corporation who embezzled $1 million and spent it on jewelry and designer clothes? Could he convince a jury that her case was one of sore need?

He complains that prison breaks up families – “A wife and helpless babes may be left in want when the state lays its hand in wrath upon the man.” Maybe things were different back then, but these days it’s much more likely that the man has already split, and abandoned that woman and those little tykes, long before the law grabs him.

“Men would not explore their neighbors’ houses at dead of night, if their own were filled,” is Darrow’s claim. What planet was he from? On earth, the sense of entitlement experienced by some members of society is so acute that they never feel they have enough. When the house fills up with goodies, they get another house and fill up that one too.

“Give them a chance to live and prosper, and violent acts will be unknown.” Sorry, Clarence. Not when they’re making up their own definitions of prosperity. We got folks who aren’t content with receiving welfare, but sign up under fifty fraudulent names to scam the system. We got folks who already have eight or eighty million dollars and think they need additional millions. Only a very small percentage of people have some decent concept of what is enough. Most people want more than they can use, and many enjoy, more than the thing itself, the knowledge that someone else doesn’t have it. And this is not a new kink in the psyche of homo sapiens. Since we hit the ground, a lot of us have lived by the creed More is More. And the easiest way to get more is to take it from others….same as it ever was.

Some of Darrow’s beliefs had already been disproved by history long before this book was written. He voices his doubts about the deterrent effect of the death penalty, and suggests that if we intend for it to be a deterrent at all, then let it be a powerful one: a horrible gruesome death with a maximum-capacity audience. Well, governments used to do exactly that, and discovered that the public became more, not less, violent in the immediate aftermath of such events as a hanging in the town square.

Resist Not Evil abounds with examples of Darrow’s touching, indeed astonishing, faith in people. “Given a child falling into a river, an old person in a burning building, a woman fainting in the street, and a band of convicts would risk their lives to give aid as quickly at least as a band of millionaires.”  Personally, I doubt that either the average convict or the average millionaire would get involved, unless there was something in it for him. A woman fainting in the street would be greatly at risk of rape from either of them.  It’s not that the convicts wouldn’t act as well as the millionaires. We’re coming at it from a different conceptual angle: the millionaires would act as badly as the convicts. After all, that is, in many cases, how they got to be millionaires in the first place. It’s just that they, unlike the convicts, didn’t get caught.

TO UNDERSTAND ALL IS TO FORGIVE ALL

“No honest judgment of the worth of any soul can be measured except with full knowledge of every circumstance that made his life, ” wrote Darrow, laying the groundwork for today’s widespread habit of acquitting just about any accused who can claim some kind of victimhood. (Remember the Jets in West Side Story? “Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke, ya gotta understand, it’s just our bringing-upke, that gets us outta hand.”)

He laments the fate of the stand-up guy, who would rather defy the court than turn stool pigeon. “A judge can see no character or virtue in an accused man, who would rather suffer imprisonment or death than to betray his fellows.” Does Darrow really believe it is noble altruism that prevents crooks from ratting on their associates? Did the more likely explanation never occur to him, that it might simply be stark, craven fear of payback?

Darrow’s insistence on romanticizing criminals and low-lifes would fit right in with the prevailing ethos in urban barrios and ghettos. “Women,” he says, “would not sell their bodies if society left them any other fairly decent and pleasant way to live.” Nonsense. There were alternatives in Darrow’s day, and there are a hundred or a thousand times more alternatives now, at least for women in the developed countries. Yet there is no shortage of hookers anywhere, and for a large percentage, it is their career of choice. Fine, if that’s what they want to do. It’s too bad that our society can’t see the good sense of decriminalizing prostitution. But let’s not get all dewy-eyed about some imaginary lack of other choices.

Just when you’ve got him figured for a bleeding-heart liberal, Darrow comes out with a pure libertarian statement: “Every government on earth is the personification of violence and force….”  He points out, as many libertarians do today, that no matter how much we fancy it up with civilized trimmings and rhetoric, coercion is eternally the bottom line. “The ancient knight who, with battle-ax and coat of mail, enforced his rule upon the weak, was only the forerunner of the tax-gatherer and tax-devourer of today.”

Yes, we have courts and codes and police and lawyers and legislators and all kinds of architectural splendor and ceremonial rituals to emphasize the majesty of the Law, “but back of these, to enforce each decree, is the power of armed men with all the modern implements of death.”  Practically everywhere on the planet and in most times, it seems to have been taken for granted that this was the only possible way to operate. Darrow recognizes that the State does not protect the weak and the meek, but aids the strong in exploiting them. He is fully aware of the true nature of temporal power. The mystery is how he manages to reconcile that knowledge with his optimistic faith in the basic goodness of human nature, since the State is made up of nothing but humans wearing uniforms or suits.

Darrow accuses governments everywhere of fundamental, pervasive and vicious hypocrisy: There is always a pretended concern for the welfare of the people. The government  encourages marriage and reproduction, punishes infanticide and abortion, criminalizes birth control, sanitizes the water supply, and cares for the sick – all with the ostensible purpose of keeping people alive and creating more of them. Yet when the government wishes to wage a war, or after a war has decimated the population, the stunned survivors are told that the loss was for the greater good.

As Darrow puts it,  “To excuse the wholesale butcheries of men by the governing powers, learned apologists have taught that without the havoc and cruel devastation of war the human race would overrun the earth.”  In other words, when they want cannon fodder they use a twisted Malthusian argument. It reminds me of that other favorite cop-out of the warmongers: the marvelous way in which war advances technology. Look how much we learn about skin grafts with a few thousand burned soldiers to practice on!

Even in wartime the primary goal of a government is not to defeat the enemy but to keep its own citizens in line. “In reality the prime reason for all the armies of the world is that soldiers and militia may turn their guns upon their unfortunate countrymen when the owners of the earth shall speak the word.” Orwell expressed the same truth in 1984: if a real enemy doesn’t exist, a government has to create one in order to justify keeping tight control over its people.

Darrow reminds us how rulers used to think that the greatest thing was to own individuals. Over the centuries they learned it is more expedient to own the land instead – “for to own the earth is to fix the terms on which all must live.” Any libertarian will tell you that land ownership is a good thing – but when it gets to where, as in South America, one per cent of the people own ninety percent of the land, the concept of ownership has gotten out of hand.

He spotlights another characteristic shared by the ruling class of every nation: they invariably show up at each others’ funerals. Millions of their own peasants can die unmourned, but the illustrious leaders are on the scene to shed a tear and escort the coffin in honor of one of their brother dictators, presidents, chancellors or kings.

THERE’S NO GOVERNMENT LIKE NO GOVERNMENT

Some of Darrow’s views stretch to anarchy. He has a gut feeling that an accused person stands a better chance of justice from a mob than from a courtroom. In many cases, he was right and would be today. On the other hand, it all depends (and always did). Mobs have, without benefit of jurisprudence, done away with a lot of alleged witches and sex offenders and other unpopular characters. who might very well have been innocent.

He makes a very strong anarchist claim: “The disorganized vicious would be far less powerful than the organized vicious, and would soon disappear.” Many present-day libertarians say the same thing: if the government vanished, people would behave decently. Those of the voluntaryist persuasion are convinced that if only the government will stop taking all their money and stop usurping the human help functions, people will joyously co-operate and take responsibility for one another’s needs.

I surely would like to believe it. But most of the time it simply doesn’t work that way! The first thing the vicious do is organize. One of the freshest examples is what’s happened behind the former Iron Curtain: more mobsters per square mile than Miami. Compared with the new geographic-area-formerly-known-as-the-USSR, old Chicago looks like a Rainbow Gathering

What would Darrow make of a n’er-do-well like Gary Gilmore, who as an ex-convict was given generous help and support by loving relatives, then killed two people in order to get the state to kill him? What would Darrow make of the Menendez brothers, the Bobbitt case, the Waco massacre, Susan Smith, or the O.J. Simpson trial?

He illuminates many of the ways in which we customarily fool ourselves. “The laws and regulations of a democracy tend no more to equality than those of a monarchy.” He notes how a net of laws is in place so securely that nobody can avoid breaking some of them at one time or another. Yet the rich and powerful escape the consequences, while any luckless citizen can easily be ensnared by some ill-wisher who is motivated to do so. Moreover, the rich don’t need to break the law. When they want to do something, they just get their lawyers to figure out another way. “When the law forbids extortion and swindling,” says Darrow,  “it simply forbids certain forms and methods of these acts, and these forms and methods are the ones not practiced by the ruling class.”

He makes a sort of Darwinian argument for Natural Law that could be the basis for extended discussion. He also makes a firm commitment to non-violence, and demonstrates that in his day as now, the one goal the penal system accomplished with spectacular efficiency was the manufacture of criminals. He is very much against fines as punishment: “The taking of money by the state in payment of crime is infinitely more damnable than private theft.” Darrow always stakes out a claim on the moral high ground, far above the tidemarks of contemporary mores. Look at some of the things which are and have been against the law. Most religions have been illegal in various times and places, yet believers risked death to worship as they felt necessary.  Trade unions have been illegal, and their adherents jailed or killed. Every political bias has been proscribed and punishable. “To violate law is often the highest, most sacred duty that can devolve upon the citizen,” he says, and reminds the self-righteous that America was partly founded by criminals transported here from England as punishment.

The more abstractly philosophical the discussion becomes, the more elevated the moral tone. He makes a case that having the hubris to judge a criminal is a worse crime than whatever the criminal did. Is this guy a flaming idealist, or what? Or possibly a bodhisattva who walked unrecognized among us?

Unrealistic as Darrow is, I think it is possible for people to become more like his vision of them. My determination to believe that, in the face of all evidence to the contrary, is one of the factors that cause me to be labeled a “mystical libertarian”. We both think people can improve, but we differ greatly on how it might happen. He thinks he knows, and I think he’s mistaken (as has been shown in the years of increasingly rapacious socialism in America since Darrow wrote.)

For instance, according to this book, “the expenditure of public money to relieve suffering, to furnish remunerative employment, to rationally prevent crime by leaving men with something else to do…” will fix things. Social service agencies have assiduously followed this plan since the Thirties, and with a vengeance since the Sixties, and have obtained worse results each year. Darrow wants to have his cake and eat it too: he wants to use the instrument of socialism to remove dire poverty from the society. At the same time he wants to ignore the fact that the redistribution of wealth is necessarily accomplished through force or threat of force against those from whom the wealth is taken. Was he unaware of the contradiction, or did he think he had somehow reconciled it?