Yesterday I had lunch with 17 men whose only common bonds were their friendship with and affection for Pat Mullen and their having gone to the Jesuits for high school and/or college. It was almost entirely a wonderful experience. The conversation was easy; no one was texting or checking his cell phone; and there were lots of funny stories, most of them true, all of them self-deprecating.
But I am prone to abstracting things beyond all recognizability so part of me part of the time was wondering about the people from those stories who were no longer with us, who had died. Died! These were vital, enjoyable people, people whose presence in my life made it better and more meaningful, and now they were gone. How could that possibly happen? What could that possibly mean?
And given that the lunch group was made up of men who were 70 and 71, I smoothly shifted into wondering about our deaths. How we looked and how we acted did not line up with my image of being 70 and yet I know that none of us has too terribly long to be here. Being there in the midst of all that vitality and energy and humor, it was almost impossible to imagine.
This kind of thinking leads one almost inevitably to some kind of fatalism, a spiritual throwing-up-of-hands, a giving up, and I could tell that I wasn't far from that.
This morning I was blessed by a Facebook post by Darya Bronston, a long version of the Liberty Mutual TV ads based on the notion of paying it forward (you can see it here), and it struck me that in the midst of all the confusion and contradiction that is life, the one thing that is always true, that always matters is acting in love.
Aristotle taught essentially the same thing, except that he framed it as "practicing the virtues." He knew that the only way to achieve happiness --- not pleasure or the satisfaction of desire, but happiness --- was to act well.
And, of course, it was Jesus of Nazareth who taught this most powerfully: "Love another as I have loved you."
For those who are tempted to believe that this teaching has to do only with romantic or filial or familial affection, read Paul's Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verses 4-7. This is seriously demanding stuff.
And the much more recent Immanuel Kant argued that we must never treat other people as "objects" but only as "subjects;" that is, that we must never use people for our own purposes as if they were things but must always treat them with the respect that is due them because of their inherent worth and dignity.
To act in love always. Always. To use a line from one of the characters in the James Lee Burke novels, "everything else is just rock 'n' roll."
I recommend the video that Darya posted. I also recommend a Valentine's Day meditation I wrote almost five years ago: Devotions
And, as I say in the "Devotions," properly understood, John and Paul were right: "All You Need is Love."
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
A Reminder from the Reverend Doctor King
"Moral principles have lost their distinctiveness. For modern man, absolute right and wrong and are a matter of what the majority are doing. Right and wrong are relative to the likes and dislikes and customs of a particular community. We have unconsciously applied Einstein's theory of relativity, which properly describes the physical universe, to the moral and ethical realm.....This mentality has brought a tragic breakdown of moral standards, and the midnight of moral degeneration deepens."
from "A Knock at Midnight" (1963)
from "A Knock at Midnight" (1963)
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Our Time
My perception is that we live in a particularly confounding time, and the more history, literary criticism, and culture criticism I read, the more convinced I am that I'm right.
There are, however, two things that I must keep in mind when heading into this. The first is that temperamentally I am prone to pessimism. I have fought against this my whole life, and I like to think that I've hidden it pretty successfully, but I know it's there and I certainly don't want my version of culture analysis to be nothing more than a feelings-driven rant.
The second is that I have lived through a time of remarkable change, in matters small and large, and the tendency --- especially as one gets older --- is to see change as leading to things that are not just different but worse. This, too, I hope to transcend.
For a long time, I have thought that the period between the Civil War and World War I was a time of defining change in American life; that the change took place before the War; and that the period after the War right up until our own time is of a piece. In other words, and in very broad strokes, that there was an American life before the Civil War that was irretrievably lost; that there were a large number of economic, social, and political changes in the period between 1865 and 1914; and that the new American life that came about because of those changes has been remarkably the same since 1919, despite the obvious differences on the surface.
I make this point partly for its own sake but mostly to set up an example. The changes in American life between the Civil War and World War I were huge and most, if not all, of them were driven by the changes in our economic life. The North's victory had committed the United States to the modern way of doing things which positioned us perfectly to take advantage of the Second Industrial Revolution, the one of the 1870's. Put briefly, this led to the creation of monopolies and to the creation of vast new wealth, much of it held by people from places different from the established centers of economic and political power in the East.
These were "the new men," the nouveaux riches, the "men of affairs," the masters of what Twain called The Gilded Age. These were men for whom wealth was all, except to the extent that wealth led to power. There was much talk of an "invisible government," the influence wielded by the wealthy on matters of public policy. And it was not mere talk: Commodore Vanderbilt once said, "Law! What do I care about law? Hain't I got the power?"
These new economic realities provoked a number of reformist (and even revolutionary) responses; it was a time of a great deal of unrest. But the movement that won out was Progressivism and the most visible sign of its real-world triumph was that it held the White House from 1901 to 1917, under Theodore Roosevelt, Howard Taft, and Woodrow Wilson.
Progressivism is difficult to talk about because it is made up of a complex and even contradictory set of attitudes and goals. In general, the Progressive story is about the conflict between liberal righteousness and evil. But in practice, the movement included a revolutionary mood but resulted in no revolution; it was the political champion of the middle class but also encouraged socialism; it was devoted to the poor and downtrodden but also enthusiastic about imperialism. So it's not that Progressivism was a unified and coherent movement.
But either despite its incoherence or because of it, Progressivism became the popular response to the economic evils of the time. There was an enthusiasm for it unlike anything that we have seen in our lifetime.
One of the many things that I find confounding about our time is that although many of the same economic evils exist today, there is no generally embraced response to them.
Both the Tea Party and the Occupy Movement were meant to be reformist but it didn't take very long for both of them to be quietly moved to the sidelines.
Bankers and other versions of financiers have committed the most egregious crimes against both the law and the people to whom they had a moral obligation, yet, with the exception of a few highly publicized scapegoats, they are not only not in jail but are continuing to make obscene amounts of money.
It is also hard --- hard for me, at any rate --- to believe that federal and state executives and legislators are as inept as they appear to be. It is far easier to believe that there is still an "invisible government," one that influences through power that comes from wealth and economic influence.
And while our involvement in overseas wars is not popular, there is little enthusiasm, much less a wide-spread popular movement, against them.
So, despite living with essentially the same phenomena that created Progressivism in the 1890's, we mostly just go about our business, tacitly giving our approval to the way things are.
It's important to remember that while it is true that industrial capitalism has produced great wealth for a few people, and created a perhaps-too-large gap between those at the top and those at the bottom, it is also true that industrial capitalism has --- contra Marx's prediction --- created wealth and distributed that wealth much more widely than anyone could possibly have predicted 100 years ago. Most of us have a whole bunch of stuff, a lot of which didn't even exist 60 years ago.
So maybe the reason we are as tolerant of economic and political misbehavior as we are is that most of us are so well off. We have bread and we have circuses, and we have very, very little knowledge of the past and its meaning for the present. (And the few financiers and politicians who are revealed, shamed, removed from their positions, and jailed are seen as just part of the circus.)
The Progressives of the 1890's rightly saw the miserable conditions of the new industrial cities as a target for reform. Industrial capitalism had created a widespread and intense poverty that was morally unacceptable. The victories of the Progressives, although hardly total, were victories against that poverty.
We have no analog to that progressive enthusiasm, perhaps because most of us are so well off and few of us are aware of and morally outraged by the morally unacceptable conditions of our own time.
But just as it is difficult to talk about Progressivism because of its complexity, it is difficult to talk about our own time in this regard. While it seems obvious to me that there is not a generally felt enthusiasm for reform, it is also true that there are thousands of public and private agencies that work tirelessly on behalf of those who are in need.
Maybe that lack of generalized enthusiasm is because we have been so successful in creating "progressive" social agencies and we now see that as a reform already accomplished.
I don't know. I told you: I find this time confounding.
There are, however, two things that I must keep in mind when heading into this. The first is that temperamentally I am prone to pessimism. I have fought against this my whole life, and I like to think that I've hidden it pretty successfully, but I know it's there and I certainly don't want my version of culture analysis to be nothing more than a feelings-driven rant.
The second is that I have lived through a time of remarkable change, in matters small and large, and the tendency --- especially as one gets older --- is to see change as leading to things that are not just different but worse. This, too, I hope to transcend.
For a long time, I have thought that the period between the Civil War and World War I was a time of defining change in American life; that the change took place before the War; and that the period after the War right up until our own time is of a piece. In other words, and in very broad strokes, that there was an American life before the Civil War that was irretrievably lost; that there were a large number of economic, social, and political changes in the period between 1865 and 1914; and that the new American life that came about because of those changes has been remarkably the same since 1919, despite the obvious differences on the surface.
I make this point partly for its own sake but mostly to set up an example. The changes in American life between the Civil War and World War I were huge and most, if not all, of them were driven by the changes in our economic life. The North's victory had committed the United States to the modern way of doing things which positioned us perfectly to take advantage of the Second Industrial Revolution, the one of the 1870's. Put briefly, this led to the creation of monopolies and to the creation of vast new wealth, much of it held by people from places different from the established centers of economic and political power in the East.
These were "the new men," the nouveaux riches, the "men of affairs," the masters of what Twain called The Gilded Age. These were men for whom wealth was all, except to the extent that wealth led to power. There was much talk of an "invisible government," the influence wielded by the wealthy on matters of public policy. And it was not mere talk: Commodore Vanderbilt once said, "Law! What do I care about law? Hain't I got the power?"
These new economic realities provoked a number of reformist (and even revolutionary) responses; it was a time of a great deal of unrest. But the movement that won out was Progressivism and the most visible sign of its real-world triumph was that it held the White House from 1901 to 1917, under Theodore Roosevelt, Howard Taft, and Woodrow Wilson.
Progressivism is difficult to talk about because it is made up of a complex and even contradictory set of attitudes and goals. In general, the Progressive story is about the conflict between liberal righteousness and evil. But in practice, the movement included a revolutionary mood but resulted in no revolution; it was the political champion of the middle class but also encouraged socialism; it was devoted to the poor and downtrodden but also enthusiastic about imperialism. So it's not that Progressivism was a unified and coherent movement.
But either despite its incoherence or because of it, Progressivism became the popular response to the economic evils of the time. There was an enthusiasm for it unlike anything that we have seen in our lifetime.
One of the many things that I find confounding about our time is that although many of the same economic evils exist today, there is no generally embraced response to them.
Both the Tea Party and the Occupy Movement were meant to be reformist but it didn't take very long for both of them to be quietly moved to the sidelines.
Bankers and other versions of financiers have committed the most egregious crimes against both the law and the people to whom they had a moral obligation, yet, with the exception of a few highly publicized scapegoats, they are not only not in jail but are continuing to make obscene amounts of money.
It is also hard --- hard for me, at any rate --- to believe that federal and state executives and legislators are as inept as they appear to be. It is far easier to believe that there is still an "invisible government," one that influences through power that comes from wealth and economic influence.
And while our involvement in overseas wars is not popular, there is little enthusiasm, much less a wide-spread popular movement, against them.
So, despite living with essentially the same phenomena that created Progressivism in the 1890's, we mostly just go about our business, tacitly giving our approval to the way things are.
It's important to remember that while it is true that industrial capitalism has produced great wealth for a few people, and created a perhaps-too-large gap between those at the top and those at the bottom, it is also true that industrial capitalism has --- contra Marx's prediction --- created wealth and distributed that wealth much more widely than anyone could possibly have predicted 100 years ago. Most of us have a whole bunch of stuff, a lot of which didn't even exist 60 years ago.
So maybe the reason we are as tolerant of economic and political misbehavior as we are is that most of us are so well off. We have bread and we have circuses, and we have very, very little knowledge of the past and its meaning for the present. (And the few financiers and politicians who are revealed, shamed, removed from their positions, and jailed are seen as just part of the circus.)
The Progressives of the 1890's rightly saw the miserable conditions of the new industrial cities as a target for reform. Industrial capitalism had created a widespread and intense poverty that was morally unacceptable. The victories of the Progressives, although hardly total, were victories against that poverty.
We have no analog to that progressive enthusiasm, perhaps because most of us are so well off and few of us are aware of and morally outraged by the morally unacceptable conditions of our own time.
But just as it is difficult to talk about Progressivism because of its complexity, it is difficult to talk about our own time in this regard. While it seems obvious to me that there is not a generally felt enthusiasm for reform, it is also true that there are thousands of public and private agencies that work tirelessly on behalf of those who are in need.
Maybe that lack of generalized enthusiasm is because we have been so successful in creating "progressive" social agencies and we now see that as a reform already accomplished.
I don't know. I told you: I find this time confounding.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
The Meaning of Music
The music we compose; the music we listen to, in concerts and in the car and at home and on our MP3 players; the music we dance to and sing along with --- that music is not mere distraction or entertainment, not merely the sound track to our lives, not merely sound to drown out the silence. Besides being all those things, all that music is also representative of how we think about ourselves, each other, and the world.
Music, in other words, reveals and represents the spirit of our time, the zeitgeist. This is more true of our time than of any other because music, for the first time in history, is available to everyone all the time; and the nature of the music we listen to is formed by the tastes of the great mass of people as never before. Or, rather, the incredible variety of musical types is formed by the tastes of the unfathomable diversity of the listening audience.
It's worth noting that historically this is a great oddity. Through most of the history of the West, the experience of listening to music was limited to performance and performance was usually for the privileged few. It wasn't until the late 18th Century that the performance of music had moved from the chambers of the aristocracy to the public halls, and not until the 1950's, with the invention of the transistor radio and the car radio and the home stereo system, that listening to music all the time became possible. We have no idea what the great operatic voices of the 1770's sounded like but we have every recorded note of contemporary singers available to us through a variety of media.
And music, like almost everything else in modern life, has been commodified, so that giving the customer what he wants has become the driving force behind musical creativity. This has many drawbacks, as does the commodification if so many inherently worthwhile things, but it also means that contemporary music is more revealing of the zeitgeist than music has ever been. Previously, one could argue that while the great musical composer might have seen the world in a certain way, it was impossible to say with any certainty, using music as evidence, how the great mass of people understood human nature and the nature of the rest of creation.
But if we allow that music is representative of how we see ourselves, how we see our relationships to one another, and how we see our place in great scheme of things, then we have a historically unique amount of data to use in the process of using music to reveal the spirit of our time.
I write this because I have lately been in mind of a clever cultural insight from a mid-20th Century English author: "When I listen to Mozart, I hear the imperial order. When I listen to Beethoven, I hear a little man on a rock yelling 'Look at me! Look at me!'" With apologies to him, and with well-deserved humility, I want to try expand that insight, both backward and forward:
When I listen to Bach, I hear the divine order.
When I listen to Mozart, I hear the imperial order.
When I listen to Beethoven, I hear a little man on a rock yelling "Look at me! Look at me!"
When I listen to the "serious" music of the 20th Century (Stravinsky, Cage, Glass et al) I hear confusion and disorder.
This last is not an insult, although I admit to loathing 20th Century music. Confusion and disorder were the self-conscious goals of musical composers, choreographers, and visual artists of the early 20th Century, a revolt against what they saw as the unnatural and repressive constraints of the past. To me it is clear that the talented, even gifted, composers and choreographers and artists of our time have succeeded grandly.
What is particularly interesting is how confusion and disorder inform so much of popular music. While much --- but not all --- of contemporary balladry still maintains a clear language, there is a whole world out there of very popular music which is little more than beat and rhythm covered by lyrics that are not only incoherent but which, under any kind of analysis, reveal no clear meaning, even line to line.
The interesting part is that this is exactly what the aesthetic revolutionaries of the early 20th Century were pushing for. They believed that there was no meaning and that rules of composition were arbitrary and without meaningful purpose. Their goal was the sensational, the shocking, the momentary. Life was made up of a series of feelings, insights, desires, fears, etc., without pattern, and certainly without meaning, and art --- if it were to be genuine --- should represent that reality. Life was chaotic and mostly based on the senses and an honest art should reflect the truth of that experience.
Whether in the concert hall or on ear-buds, music reveals and reinforces an understanding of reality and one's place in it. While many of us are prone to dismiss the criticism of contemporary distractions by saying, "Oh, it's just entertainment," on some level we know better. We live in a time when what the people want is the ultimate arbiter of taste, so what do we want? Or, to really push it, what should we want?
Music, in other words, reveals and represents the spirit of our time, the zeitgeist. This is more true of our time than of any other because music, for the first time in history, is available to everyone all the time; and the nature of the music we listen to is formed by the tastes of the great mass of people as never before. Or, rather, the incredible variety of musical types is formed by the tastes of the unfathomable diversity of the listening audience.
It's worth noting that historically this is a great oddity. Through most of the history of the West, the experience of listening to music was limited to performance and performance was usually for the privileged few. It wasn't until the late 18th Century that the performance of music had moved from the chambers of the aristocracy to the public halls, and not until the 1950's, with the invention of the transistor radio and the car radio and the home stereo system, that listening to music all the time became possible. We have no idea what the great operatic voices of the 1770's sounded like but we have every recorded note of contemporary singers available to us through a variety of media.
And music, like almost everything else in modern life, has been commodified, so that giving the customer what he wants has become the driving force behind musical creativity. This has many drawbacks, as does the commodification if so many inherently worthwhile things, but it also means that contemporary music is more revealing of the zeitgeist than music has ever been. Previously, one could argue that while the great musical composer might have seen the world in a certain way, it was impossible to say with any certainty, using music as evidence, how the great mass of people understood human nature and the nature of the rest of creation.
But if we allow that music is representative of how we see ourselves, how we see our relationships to one another, and how we see our place in great scheme of things, then we have a historically unique amount of data to use in the process of using music to reveal the spirit of our time.
I write this because I have lately been in mind of a clever cultural insight from a mid-20th Century English author: "When I listen to Mozart, I hear the imperial order. When I listen to Beethoven, I hear a little man on a rock yelling 'Look at me! Look at me!'" With apologies to him, and with well-deserved humility, I want to try expand that insight, both backward and forward:
When I listen to Bach, I hear the divine order.
When I listen to Mozart, I hear the imperial order.
When I listen to Beethoven, I hear a little man on a rock yelling "Look at me! Look at me!"
When I listen to the "serious" music of the 20th Century (Stravinsky, Cage, Glass et al) I hear confusion and disorder.
This last is not an insult, although I admit to loathing 20th Century music. Confusion and disorder were the self-conscious goals of musical composers, choreographers, and visual artists of the early 20th Century, a revolt against what they saw as the unnatural and repressive constraints of the past. To me it is clear that the talented, even gifted, composers and choreographers and artists of our time have succeeded grandly.
What is particularly interesting is how confusion and disorder inform so much of popular music. While much --- but not all --- of contemporary balladry still maintains a clear language, there is a whole world out there of very popular music which is little more than beat and rhythm covered by lyrics that are not only incoherent but which, under any kind of analysis, reveal no clear meaning, even line to line.
The interesting part is that this is exactly what the aesthetic revolutionaries of the early 20th Century were pushing for. They believed that there was no meaning and that rules of composition were arbitrary and without meaningful purpose. Their goal was the sensational, the shocking, the momentary. Life was made up of a series of feelings, insights, desires, fears, etc., without pattern, and certainly without meaning, and art --- if it were to be genuine --- should represent that reality. Life was chaotic and mostly based on the senses and an honest art should reflect the truth of that experience.
Whether in the concert hall or on ear-buds, music reveals and reinforces an understanding of reality and one's place in it. While many of us are prone to dismiss the criticism of contemporary distractions by saying, "Oh, it's just entertainment," on some level we know better. We live in a time when what the people want is the ultimate arbiter of taste, so what do we want? Or, to really push it, what should we want?
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