Footsteps of the Blues Brothers

A week ago I got back from a brief visit to Chicago. While there, I saw much that was cool and interesting. In a small way, though, even after The Field Museum and The Art Institute and the astonishing Driehaus Museum, it feels like the highlight of the trip was actually this:

The Hon. Richard J. Daley Plaza

Someone should install a plaque memorializing the Bluesmobile here

Somehow, it just felt particularly appropriate that this was essentially the last notable “sight” before we descended belowground and boarded the train back our suburban hotel. Yes, The Honorable Richard J. Daley Plaza. “That’s where they got that Picasso.” Read More →

Scotland, continued

The campaign over Scottish independence has continued to fascinate me. It has, I think, become a bit less entertaining as I have found myself taking it more seriously, and I kind of feel bad about that… but, it may not be all bad. It occurs to me that this whole affair has been an extraordinary brain exercise. Most topics of “debate” are familiar enough that I’ve long ago sorted out my opinion. On Scotland, however, I have wavered back and forth repeatedly, as I’ve encountered interesting new arguments and gradually digested them. I sort of feel like we should do things like this, in a general sense, more often, just to keep things a bit more fluid and keep us on our toes, mentally. As for tomorrow’s vote, specifically, well…

I suppose that in the end, my (non-voting) attitude toward this whole affair is resignation toward the impossible paradox that is life.

Having chewed it over, I believe that were I a Scot or anyone else in the UK, Scottish independence absolutely would not be my preference. My own—as ever hypothetical and unasked—preference would be for all of the Yes campaign’s energy to catalyze a nationwide effort to banish the Conservatives, and replace them with a genuinely progressive people’s government.

But of course, that isn’t on the ballot. Scottish independence is, for the reason that it has proved far more exciting than what would, I’m sure, seem too much like ordinary old tedious, futile, politics-as-usual.

I can sympathize with that attitude, yet it’s basically a sympathy of despair. I still don’t know exactly what to think about the actual question of independence itself, as offered to voters tomorrow. Opinions are scrambled up among people I usually respect (which again, is part of what makes all this interesting.) I agree with Prof. Krugman that an independent Scotland continuing to rely on the British pound would be demented. I really don’t know how much that’s a guaranteed outcome of a Yes vote, and how much chance there is that other counsels might prevail in the fluid circumstances of new independence. I think I’m a bit more optimistic than Krugman that the whole project could be worthwhile, at least if Scotland finds a better currency solution.

Yet I’m far, far from joining George Monbiot et al. in believing that the Yes campaign really represents the seed of hope. I don’t buy that this is a rediscovery of imagination. No. Sorry. Again, I think a liberal perspective can sympathize with the Yes campaign to a significant degree… but I don’t think a liberal can actually look at it and see hope. It may well be that Scots have within their grasp a chance To Begin The World Anew… but they have the same as part of Britain. Success isn’t automatic as part of Britain; it won’t be automatic as an independent Scotland. Maybe the odds are better, but even if so that seems to depend on thinking smaller, in a sense, essentially lowering expectations. Thus I look at Scottish independence and see, at best, one more compromised, misguided attempt at making do amid even uglier realities. It might be a worthwhile compromise, but accepting that compromise is certainly not what I would call hope. I would call it despair, or, I suppose, functioning edge-of-despair.

Or, as I’ve come to conclude, “life.”

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Dear Cyclone football: never back down

I was sightseeing in Chicago over the weekend, so I missed the Big Game. My brother called immediately afterward and provided a recap, though, and what a sweet sequence of events. ISU prevailed, plus, ISU prevailed as a direct result of Iowa coach Kirk Ferentz outsmarting himself. Whooops. Thanks, U of I campus police, for this apt summary:

Coach Rhoads roars with laughter as Ferentz looks on… yep, that about sums it up

Bwa ha ha

Reading afterward, though, I noticed that the Des Moines Register was making noises about ending this series. It seems to be a bit more than just a daft Randy Peterson idea, also. Not only were fan reactions mixed, but the relevant officials seemed less than committed to sustaining this rivalry.

I could spend time deconstructing this, but I just want to make one point, for whatever my opinion is worth: if and when this series is interrupted (again), it should not happen with any formal approval from ISU. Ignore Peterson’s arguments that halting The Big Game would be to Cyclones’ advantage. Don’t give the Hawks cover, guys. If they want to cop out, fine. If they want to offer up excuses, claim that it has never been important to them, revive the arrogant and now ludicrous muttering about “quality” opponents, fine. That’s their business.

But please, Cyclone football, make it clear that ISU stands ready to challenge the Hawks any time, anywhere (in a manner of speaking, at least, since college football games follow a fixed schedule negotiated well in advance). Do that, and honor will be ours no matter what, no matter the result of any “last game” before Iowa slinks off to seek wins elsewhere.

We will never surrender.

The Cleveland Plain Dealer Fails, Fibs

One week ago, the Plain Dealer published an item by Mr. Ted Diadun about “The challenge of covering a race when there is no race.” Like a lot of things involving the Plain Dealer in the 21st century, it’s basically just a lot of sad piled on top of more sad. Essentially, Diadun indulges in some whining about what an unreasonable hardship it is for his colleagues that the Democratic candidate for governor has sunk low in the polls and looks unlikely to revive. Even we can’t fake a competitive horse-race narrative from this, it’s just unfair!, etc. Then, Diadun goes on to announce that, events having simply forced abandonment of standard practices, the Plain Dealer will actually publish some information about other state races (but only the big two party nominees, of course)! 

You could just picture Diadun with his chest puffed out, simply beaming with pride about what good sports he and his pals are, and how generous it is of them to make such an effort for the community in this way. Unfortunately, I found myself unable to summon up the adulation he seemed to be anticipating. I just couldn’t work out a coherent concept of what he believes political journalism is for, making it difficult to evaluate the Plain Dealer‘s predicament and response on its own terms.

I wrote an e-mail to Mr. Diadun outlining my questions. His official profile declares: “As the reader representative, I encourage comments, complaints, suggestions, compliments, debates, questions about fairness or anything else dealing with The Plain Dealer that a reader might want to talk about. I respond to calls and e-mails…” Sadly, a week has gone by and I still have received no response from “the reader representative.” More sadly, I have never received any response to any missives directed to tdiadiun@plaind.com and must conclude that “I respond to calls and e-mails” is basically just empty BS. Saddest of all, possibly, this may have something to do with the fact that Mr. Diadun has no good answers to the following questions. You be the judge:

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Scotland

Yesterday I made Scottish shortbread. I don’t know precisely how Scottish this recipe is, and even if it’s as French as french fries, this is usually about as close as I get to what one might even loosely call “Scottish affairs.” I don’t even have any scotch whisky at present; I enjoy it, certainly, but y’know, austerity and “times being what they are,” etc. Nothing against Scotland, but as a distinct entity (rather than a share of Britain) it’s a bit out of my wheelhouse. Usually.

This year, however, has been a departure from usually, thanks to the approaching referendum on Scotland seceding from the United Kingdom.

I have been absolutely fascinated by this campaign. Despite having never been to Scotland, having no personal connections to Scotland, or any direct stake in the outcome of the vote, let alone a vote of my own. I suppose there are a lot of reasons. For one thing, it’s exciting: Re-drawing a map! Splitting a 300-year-old union! Political realignment and international repercussions! “And in English, too,” in the words of The Stranger.

I also feel strong sympathies with elements of the Yes (i.e. pro-independence) campaign. Mixed in among plenty of other motivations, enthusiasm for secession has drawn overtly and significantly on the prospect of what we might call a political “new-borders solution.” Should anyone unfamiliar with British politics read this, very briefly, national government in the UK has mostly alternated between the Conservative Party and Labour Party through the past 100 years or so, but in recent decades support for Conservatives has essentially vanished from Scotland. Like, not even Republicans in California but Republicans in Berkeley, as a comparison. As the Conservative Party currently controls the British parliament despite having negligible support from Scotland, many Scots have asked “why should we remain chained to a polity of significantly different values and beliefs which keeps overruling us in a united winner-take-all government?”

This, I should point out, is a simplification; there are all kinds of caveats and complications just within party politics, never mind the independence campaign as a whole.

That said, this view is definitely a real part of the Yes campaign, and I sympathize with it. I get tired of sharing a government with right-wing voters who regularly overrule my preferences, too. We don’t have quite the same mechanics as the UK, though some times a “winner-takes-all” result can happen anyway. I am certainly not insensitive to the appeal of a “new-borders solution.” (Perhaps you may remember 10 years ago seeing one of various re-drawn maps of North America with the “blue states” appended to Canada…?) Of course, there are various problems here, even from a liberal perspective…

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The 36-year-old ostrich

The prospect of unchecked climate change has been around most of my adult life. Without any convincing prospect of pre-empting it, to date.

Out of two decades and more of written and spoken comment on this great #fail, the single most profound statement was probably that of Christina Ora. A Solomon Islander, and therefore more vulnerable than most of us to a warming world and consequently rising seas, Ora stood up before climate treaty negotiators in 2009 to say: “I was born in 1992. You have been negotiating all my life. You cannot tell us that you need more time.”

Obviously, “we’re working on it but need more time” remains the official status five years later.

Still, an unforgettable remark. The disconnect between the pace of activity in treaty negotiation conferences and in the real world is so appalling it’s the kind of thing that’s laughable in other circumstances. A couple of years ago I learned that a college acquaintance who had enrolled one year before me had, after multiple expulsions and fresh starts, finally earned a degree. Almost an inspiring story of redemption, in its way. Yet I couldn’t help observing that many people had, by then, started first grade the same year as this fellow enrolled as a college freshman (1995) and since completed elementary school, middle school, high school and a college degree. I suppose in some ways that’s part of adulthood, and how things can seem to slow down and the years slip away so much more easily than in youth, but still:

When you reach a point where children have been born, learned to walk, learned to ride a bike, completed an education and joined you in the grown-up world, in the time that you’ve been theoretically working on your project… maybe you should at least consider whether you oughtn’t just step out of the way and let them have a crack at it?

That seems plausible, to me. It’s difficult to think of any more stark illustration of the ridiculous failure of so-called world leaders… or at least it was, until I read this, today:

Congress actually recognized global warming way back in 1978 with passage of the National Climate Program Act. The law aimed to “assist the Nation and the world to understand and respond to natural and man-induced climate processes and their implications.”

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On breaking up big museum collections

This morning I read a fascinating item by Hrag Vartanian, at Al Jazeera America, titled “Break up the major museums to save them.” I encourage reading the whole thing, but very very briefly, he argues that the world’s mega museums are already absurdly big, and that rather than trying to make them bigger yet it’s time to disperse their holdings a bit.

I have a number of thoughts on this, the greatest number being a product of my upcoming book Cotton’s Library, much of which is about a great collection that eventually ended up at a mega-museum, after a long struggle to prevent its dispersal. Having chronicled this struggle, I’m sympathetic to arguments against dispersal… but it’s really a lot more complicated than that.

For one thing, there’s a world of difference between the Cotton Library—even at its maximum extent—and the modern Louvre or British Museum or the Met. Arguing that one or two rooms’ worth of long-associated items should stay associated need not mean opposing the division of composite collections of millions of items.

What’s more, the story of the Cotton library actually touches on significant precedents for such division. Since the library arrived at the British Museum as a founding collection in the mid-18th century, the BM has spun off pieces of its collection twice. Its natural history collections departed by slow, slow stages to become the Natural History Museum; the Cotton library itself left the museum as part of the (sort of) more recent British Library. I certainly don’t regard the separate establishment of these institutions as losses.

Still, this isn’t entirely what Vartanian is getting at. In fact, he specifically eschews any advocacy for administrative division and instead emphasizes spreading around mega museums’ contents, not just to new buildings in the same city but much more broadly.

I largely support this suggestion, though it’s probably a bit of a tougher sell.

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Ferguson, hammers, and the NSA

There’s an old saying about how “if your only tool is a hammer, every problem tends to look like a nail.” I certainly believe there’s a lot of truth to this proposition. Recently, we’ve had a good (i.e. appalling) demonstration of it in Ferguson, Missouri: it sure seems like, on top of the multiple other problems at work, kitting out local police like shock troops encourages them to act like shock troops even when there’s no conceivable justification for behaving that way. (Which, for local police, is very nearly all the time.)

It occurs to me today that this is also a demonstration of why honest, ordinary citizens ought to be concerned about the NSA’s surveillance dragnet and associated programs (arbitrary lists, death drones, “extrajudicial executions,” etc.). The belief that it’s okay because they’re on “our side” seems awfully naive when you consider the fact that we (or people supposedly representing us) have built a massive organization and continually given its employees more and more and more tools for

  1. invading privacy,
  2. finding ways to make it look like someone could be connected with terrorism, and
  3. essentially treating the entire population as suspected criminals everywhere we go, every moment of our lives.

When you and everyone around you are armed in this way, how is it likely to shape your whole concept of what you and your organization do? Particularly when your organization (like the Ferguson cops) has become detached from and even contemptuous of direction by the community you are allegedly “serving?”

Seems to me that when most of your tools are a tyrant’s, everything and everyone is going to start looking like a rebel (which, from a tyrant’s perspective, means “a terrorist”) to be suppressed.

This, I might add, is one of the (many) things that makes it difficult for me to see any potential for reasoned dialogue with contemporary American conservatism. Listen to the US right*, and “government health care is tyranny! Taxes are tyranny! Public transportation is tyranny!” Everything, seemingly, is tyranny except large standing armies and unaccountable, omnipresent secret surveillance.

This.doesn’t.make.sense. All powerful organizations pose risks, and need to be kept in check, but the hammer-nail effect suggests that some risks ought to be considerably more frightening than others. A health-care bureaucracy that gets high on its own powers might… what? Treat the sick and injured? Or just be really, egregiously bureaucratic perhaps. That’s frustrating, and again, all of these programs ought to have an informed citizenry and our representatives closely managing them. But these agencies decried by conservatives as “tyranny!” are usually okay with that at least in principle. In contrast to the NSA, whose unchecked powers pose a risk categorically more dangerous than do “non-defense” programs, and who nonetheless aggressively oppose the whole idea of outside oversight.

Conservatives love to say “give a man a fish, feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime.” The metaphor fails in multiple ways. Additionally, though, there’s too little consideration of what happens when you teach a man to regard himself as an enforcer of vaguely defined “order” and everyone around him as potential threats thereto.

* There are exceptions, and bless them, but they aren’t a majority and aren’t setting their party’s agenda. Even with an opposition-party president whom they can seemingly oppose on anything else, whatever he does, a majority of congressional Republicans lined up to endorse leaving the military-surveillance complex unreformed.

Good things, August 2014

I had some tests done today. At the moment, the internet does not need my complete medical history, but I feel like noting that the whole process (though it is quite a process) went relatively well. And, all of the results were what one would hope they would be.

This has really been a good summer in fact, on a personal level. So I feel like briefly remarking on a few positive items from the past month or so (which has witnessed much that was negative, on a larger scale).

Lakewood has a nice farmer’s market every Saturday. I usually walk or bike up and buy some produce. A variety of other goods are also on offer, though, as is entertainment on may weekends.  A couple of times this summer, Diana Chittester has performed. I did not know who she was, but I liked her sound, and last Saturday I just sat listening for a while. Wonderful stage presence, even when the stage is a tiny temporary pavilion between the farmer’s market and Marc’s parking lot. I also bought her new CD, which along with all of the others she priced at “what you feel comfortable paying.” I see that it’s basically the same system online, too. Pretty cool.

I went up to Holden Arboretum for the first time a few weeks ago. That was lovely. Beautiful central area and ornamental gardens, plus some excellent hiking, at least for me. I hiked way back on the optional loop trails, and felt it for days afterward. (Fortunately I’ve at least done enough hiking that I knew to wear boots.) But it was wonderful, just getting away from everything into plain peaceful trees and nature.

A Twitter friend pointed me toward another list of archives that emphasize sharing their content to use, rather than hoarding it with copyright threats and usage tolls.

Warren Ellis has been updating a blog again. I’m not entirely sure why it’s here rather than at his main site, but whatever. I’ve been enjoying these little entries since the discovery. Meanwhile I created a favicon for my own site, here, a few days ago and its humorous homage still makes me smile.

Finally, the Opportunity rover set a new record last month. I can’t find where I saw it, now, but I recall someone making the observation around the same time that “Mars is now the only planet in our solar system populated entirely by active terrestrially manufactured robots” or something to that effect. That’s also pretty cool. Manned space flight is not really producing much excitement… but, it is possible to look on the bright side and recognize that some kind of colonization of Mars is under way.

Don’t cut back on “salt intake,” eliminate it

A few years ago, I wrote a pair of responses following a wave of online alarms about “salt intake.” In the first, my criticism was strictly linguistic. “Salt intake” is an awful, abominable phrase, and I had simply had enough of seeing it. Happily, the interweb’s obsession with this allegedly dire peril seems to have dropped away, but recently Sarah Kliff over at Vox provided it a bump. Ms. Kliff’s coverage of health care reform has been absolutely brilliant, these past years, and her look at the terrible menace of salt also achieves some admirable progress. I applaud her story’s headline, “we’re eating too much salt,” at least linguistically. You have to go four paragraphs in before any reference to “salt intake.”

That said, Kliff still resorts to this syntactical disgrace several times; once, in the alt-form of “sodium intake,” even in a subheading. Thus I shall continue my long-term archiving project by re-publishing the following, originally written in February 2010:

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