On Free Will

Suppose for a moment, that we define a virtuous act as bowing in the direction of Mecca every day at sunset. We attempt to persuade everyone to perform this act. But suppose that instead of relying on voluntary conviction we employ a vast number of police to break into everyone’s home and see to it that every day they are pushed down to the floor in the direction of Mecca. No doubt by taking such measures we will increase the number of people bowing toward Mecca. But by forcing them to do so, we are taking them out of the realm of action and into mere motion, and we are depriving all these coerced persons of the very possibility of acting morally. By attempting to compel virtue, we eliminate its possibility. To be moral, an act must be free.

Murray N. Rothbard, “Frank S. Meyer: The Fusionist as Libertarian Manquè“. Quoted in Freedom and Virtue.

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Wrath of the Prophets

ST DS9: Wrath of the Prophets
© 1997 Michael Jan Friedman, Peter David, Robert Greenberger
300 pages

On the cover: Nana Visitor as Kira Nerys, Michelle Forbes as Ro Laren

An epidemic is sweeping Bajor, a pestilence born of faulty replicators smuggled in by a young woman desperate to feed her village.  Placed under quarantine, the planet’s peril is so intense that even  renegade Ro Laren emerges from hiding to help transport food there. On Deep Space Nine, Julian Bashir works to find a cure, but every breakthrough is immediately reversed. This is a virus with a deep bench of tricks. In the hopes of expediting matters, two teams are sent into shady markets  to find the source of the replicators and demand some answers.  While Sisko, Odo, and Quark  examine a smugglers’ hub in space,  Major Kira grudgingly accepts the company of Ro Laren on Bajor.

Putting Ro and Kira together is a recipe for fun. Orginally, DS9 was written to include Ro Laren, but Michelle Forbes didn’t want to commit. Another feisty Bajoran was invented to take her place, Kira. But despite being cut from very similar cloth, Ro and Kira are not bosom buddies. As hot-headed and willful officers, they butt heads repeatedly. Ro’s appearance is not welcome by anyone: she deserted Bajor during the occupation to join Starfleet, then went AWOL after Starfleet began pushing around settlers to fulfill the Federation’s foreign policy commitments.  Of course, Ro Laren eventually  does make it to Deep Space Nine, in the relaunch — as the station security chief. The authors are aware of Kira and Ro’s linked origin, even having Ro muse that had things been different, they might have switched places. Despite their similarities — their combativeness, their independence — the two women are different in substantial ways here. Ro is a cynic,  disheartened by Starfleet’s bullying of innocents in regards to the Maquis. Kira isn’t naive, but she’s idealistic: she believes in her fellow Bajorans, and when she realizes how corrupt Bajor’s provisional government is, how even her wartime allies prove to be positively venal, she suffers a crisis of faith made worse by Ro’s attitude. Eventually, through much argument and mortal peril, Ro and Kira become the other’s comrade-in-arms, and by the book’s end they’re standing back to back making fiery speeches at Bajor’s congress. Attagirl, Ro, you did learn something from Picard.

There are other plot points — the chief is worried about his family on Bajor whom he never sees, Dax is mysteriously incompetent, being distracted by a previous host’s experience with a similar plague — and the multitude of angles the story is being chased down probably owes to the fact that there are three authors, all of whom needed something to do. But really, twenty years after this book’s publication the only reason to read it is for the combination of Ro and Kira.

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Three for One: Robbing Banks and Being Robbed by the Banks

I stumbled upon The Great Taos Bank Robbery at some point last year. What road led me to it I can’t say, but it is a most interesting little book — a combination of folk history, humorous stories, and archaeology.  The subject is New Mexico in general, the quirky characters touted off as exemplars of New Mexico’s eccentrity. Some of the stories are so entertaining and weird that I presumed them fiction, like the title piece about two men who patiently stood in line to rob a bank, only to discover it was a bank holiday. Absurdity ensues, especially as one of the culprits is wearing a dress and a small mound of pancake batter on his face.   There are several serious pieces of archaeology and anthropology in here, though even these have a few lines delivered with the literary equivalent of a straight face. (“The only problem with the report was that it was absolutely wrong.”)

Over the weekend I read Don’t Hurt People and Don’t Take Their Stuff, which proved entertaining if disappointing. It is less a fulsome introduction to the nonaggression principle and classical liberalism, and more a kick in the teeth of a corrupt and ineffective bureaucracy.  It was written in 2013, with the campaign promises of 2012 already unfulfilled and stale; the author anticipated another round of calming lies in 2016 and wanted to wake readers up to the possibility of a third option.  He champions freedom and creativity, loathes the administrative state (full of “gray suited soviets”), and mixes the political feistiness with affectionate rambling on the Grateful Dead and Rush. (The band, not the blowhard.)  Kibbe has a libertarian since high school, so while he’s passionate he doesn’t have the experience made from traveling in other camps that would allow him to connect other views with his arguments.  Still, in political season marked by sneers and street brawls, being reminded of a political philosophy based on peace instead of ambition to control  is refreshing.   The libertarian candidate this year is Gary Johnson, retired governor of New Mexico.

Relatedly, a few weeks ago I read Ron Paul’s Liberty, Defined, which works out what liberty entails in the 21st century. For the author, it is nothing less than the golden rule applied to politics, and he uses fifty issues floating around in the sewage tank of American political debate as examples. These range from abortion to Zionism, with less controversial fare in between. The subjects are alphabetical, without any other structure, which makes it less a definitive argument for liberty and more a collection of policy papers. There are no surprises for someone who is familiar with Ron Paul’s reputation as a staunch libertarian:  naturally, he is against an over-mighty executive, against constantly deploying the military to police other nations, and against  burdensome taxes and irresponsible legislation. Because of the arrangement, it’s hard to imagine a man off the street  picking up the book and reading it through — what’s the hook? I went for it because I knew the author, but because I was familiar with the author, nothing in here was really new.

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TBR Bodycheck

Another week, more solid progress on the TBR. There are a couple of reviews pending. I plan one more big push this week, then a switch to American lit, then another drive to finish this one off!

Taken down!

Coming Attractions

  •  The Obstacle is the Way, Ryan Holiday.
  •  Trucking Country: The Road to America’s Wal-Mart Economy, Shane Hamilton.
  • 10% Human, Alanna Collen.
  • The Great Debate: Edmund Burke, Thomas Paine and the Birth of Right and Left, Yural Levin.
  • .Domesticated: Evolution in a Man-Made World,  Richard Francis.

And (a little) more!

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Green, Blue, and Grey

Green, Blue, and Grey: the Irish in the American Civil War
©  2009 Cal McCarthy
325 pages

Three cheers for the red, white, and blue!

For the green flag of Erin so true..

The music of the Civil War reflects the sheer variety of men fought in it; they were not all Americans, but many were recent immigrants from across Europe, who retained their national identities. Germans, for instance, sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic in their own tongue — and the songs of the combative Irish are a genre unto themselves. It was through their music that I first heard references to the Irish revolution of 1798, a bid for independence that would, like the South’s, fail. These references came from Irishmen fighting on both sides of the Civil War, however, and it was to learn more about how Irish immigrants viewed the conflict that I first picked up The Green, the Blue, and the Grey.  It is, however, purely a military history of the various regiments and brigades who were constituted wholly of Irish-Americans. (Two of the most notable are the 69th New York and the 10th Tennessee.) Some were directly recruited from Ireland, occasionally under false pretenses. (Irish laborers were recruited to the US to work for companies which proved fictitious, then shanghaied into the Union army. Welcome to the land of the free, boys.)

The history covers virtually all of the major battles of the conflict — Bull Run, Fredericksburg,  Antietam, Gettysburg, the usual suspects — along with minor ones that I’ve never heard of, like the skirmish of ‘Desert House’.  While the author’s focus is on battles in which Irish forces played a major role, especially when they fought against one another, the filled-in narration is such that this easily serves as a general military review of the Civil War. He covers both theaters and even includes some naval goings-on.   Learning how the Irish interpreted the sectional conflict in the light of Ireland’s own relationship with Britain, however, will wait for another book. The Irish in this book fought for whichever region they  happened to be living in, and at Gettysburg, Catholic and Orange Order immigrants fought side by side.

Some Music of the Irish
“The Irish Volunteer“, David Kincaid. Union.
Song of the Irish Brigade“, David Kincaid. My personal favorite. Southern.
“Kelly’s Irish Brigade“, David Kincaid.  Southern.
We’ll Fight for Uncle Sam“, Union, and set to ‘Whiskey in the Jar‘.
Pat Murphy of the Irish Brigade“, Union.  Performed by Bobby Horton.
The Green, the Red, the White, and Blue“, Derek Warfield.  Southern.  This is an interesting one; it’s a heavily modified version of “Dixie, Land of King Cotton“.
The Southern Wagon (Irish)“. Derek Warfield.  Southern.

These are all high-energy except for “Pat Murphy”, which is mournful. These songs have some of the best lyrics of any in the ACW canon.

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The Orthodox Church

The Orthodox Church
© 1963, 1993 Kallistos (Timothy) Ware
368 pages

Who are the Orthodox? To the extent Americans have heard of them, it is through eastern European immigrant communities. Those who paid marginal attention in western civ might remember something called the Great Schism, in which the western and eastern halves of Christendom declared one another excommunicate. While the Catholic west and Orthodox east have continued to drift their separate ways throughout the centuries, they share the same core tradition. In The Orthodox Church, Kalistos Ware delivers a history of the eastern Orthodox, followed by an introduction to its liturgy and devotional practices. He ends by musing on the possibilities and obstacles to communion between the Orthodox and their closest brethren, the Catholics and Anglicans. Although the history is very much dated now, the book having been written shortly after the Soviet Union collapsed and the suppressed church started to reemerge, Ware’s account of the centuries prior is handled attractively and efficiently.

Although Rome initially persecuted the Christian church, by the third century A.D.it had attracted the attention of the emperor Constantine, who declared it legal.Constantine courted the church himself, though (famously) he would not submit to baptism until he lay on his deathbed. Christianity soon became the state religion of the Roman empire, circling the Med, but as Rome aged and withered, division ensued. Barbarian activity in the Balkans and the eruption of Islam made communication increasingly difficult, and soon a purely administrative division between the empire’s western and eastern halves became a cultural one. The western empire and its church became more enmeshed with the fate of the Franks, crowning their king as Emperor,  Frankish influence would extend to theology, as an addition to the Nicene Creed intended as a rebuttal to a local heresy found favor in the west, eventually being adopted by the pope.

That proved to be a problem, as did the pope’s authority in general, for his claimed jurisdiction over not merely the Roman see, but the whole of Christendom.  The Nicene Creed was adopted by an ecumenical council at Nicea, representing the entire church; it was pounded out in collaborative labor.  One bishop by himself couldn’t alter it simply at will. Ware is remarkably fair-minded about the popes, attributing their beliefs not to villainy or ambition, but to the mere fact that Rome had no western peer.  The pope was the closest thing the west had to a unitive authority, as Charlemagne left behind a mess of warring states.  Secondly, the See of Rome was the only western church with Apostolic credentials, the only one believed to be founded by one of the original followers of Christ. In the east, there were three — Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem – and none were able to claim precedence over the other. The great schism  was thus made possible by the actual divide between the western and eastern parts of the Empire, begun in earnest by the  arguments over how far papal authority extended, and completed when the western Franks sacked Constantinople on the way to yet another crusade.  No forgiveness for this fratricide would follow.

Subsequent chapters cover the conquest of Eastern Rome by the Arabs and later the Turks. The Orthodox church muddled through, largely – it wasn’t until the rise of ISIS that Christians were wholly driven out of places like Iraq and Syria. The most grievous persecutions had a nationalist rather than religious focus – the Armenian genocide, for instance, followed Turkey’s defeat in the Great War.  Following the withering and defeat of Constantinople, Orthodoxy developed new life in eastern Europe, especially in Russia, which wanted to claim itself as the Third Rome. The Russian church would endure its own repression during the Communist years, aside from a brief detente during World War 2.   Turkish  and Russian brutality both drove Orthodox emigrants out of Europe and into the United States, where today it flourishes.

The second half of the book covers Orthodox theology and praxis, both of which more difficult to summarize than politics.   It bears comment on, though, and the Nicene creed is again an example. While the Orthodox objected to the pope single-handedly changing a creed that was created by a congress of the church,  Ware argues that the change itself  also subtly shifted and confused theology.  The change in question was to declare that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Father and the Son,  which dilutes the role of the Father and makes things more vague. In the essential approach to worship (communal prayer, reading of scriptures, and the Eucharist) the Orthodox and Catholics are very similar,  but there are notable differences. The Orthodox, for instance, worship standing, and most do not employ musical instruments. Icons play a much larger role, being seen as literal windows into heaven ,and used to focus the mind. Mysticism has played a larger role in Orthodox development, as well, though Ware doesn’t comment on the tension between it and western scholasticism.

Covering as it does two thousand years  of history and most of Eurasia, The Orthodox Church is impressively ambitious, yet fairly concise. The church’s fate under Turkish and Soviet domination are dispatched in single chapters, as is the church’s role in the developing civilization of Russia.  It is most helpful in the area of general religious literacy, with a lot of content wrapped up in these 300-odd pages.

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Bratva

Sons of Anarchy: Bratva
© 2014 Christopher Golden
256 pages

For Jax Teller, the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club has always been his family, its members his brothers. His father started the Sons, with a philosophy directly inspired by Emma Goldman. But over the years they became little more than another gun-and-drug-running biking gang,  and now they’re not the only family in Jax’s life. Not only does he have two boys to protect, but in the process of rescuing one from kidnappers, he discovered a half-sister in Ireland. Now that sister, Trinity, has gotten herself in bed with the Russian mob, who are falling apart in civil war.   In Bratva, Jax and two of his brothers ditch their colors to find out where one Russian kingpin is holed up, while not being killed by another.  It’s the first unexpected foray into licensed fiction for the Sons series, not counting graphic  novels by the same artist.  Most of the characters are new (Russians and a slew of north Vegas residents destined for cemetery plots), but the three Sons in play (Jax, Chibbs, and Opie) sound in character. Gemma Teller-Morrow certainly does. The plot is fairly reminiscent of one of the episodes, with criminal politics, corrupt or complicit authorities, and a bloodbath at the end. The only thing that’s missing is the show’s soundtrack, which alternates between furious and melancholy rock.  It’s fun enough if you’re in the mood for lots of plotting, biking, and shooting,  and has enough background info that you don’t need to be a viewer of Sons to roll with the plot.

Related:

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Reads to Reels: Roswell

In 1998, Melinda Metz introduced a new series of young-adult science fiction: the story of three teenagers whose earliest memories were of climbing out of incubation pods in the desert outside of Roswell, New Mexico.  When they emerged, they appeared to be human children, and — wandering around in the desert — were scooped up by the local authorities and adopted by various families, oblivious to their origin. Max, Isabel, and Michael likewise had no clue where they came from…but they knew it wasn’t New Mexico.   In The Outsider,  the trio’s lifetime of mutual secret-keeping is derailed when a stray bullet nearly claimed the life of the girl Max loved. A sheriff is soon sniffing around, but he’s not any sheriff — he’s an agent of a secretive government agency whose task is to conceal and contain the threat of the Roswell Incident.  There are other aliens out there…and what follows for the three and their friends (Liz, Alex, and Maria) is nothing but trouble. 

I adored this series in middle school. My best friend and I discovered it together, feeding our mutual addiction.  I was confused and appalled when, midway through the series, the cover art abruptly changed to feature some random-looking teenagers who were nothing like the characters I’d grown so fond of.  Roswell High had been made into a television show!    I wouldn’t be able to watch that show for another six years, when it appeared on DVD, and when I did I realized it wasn’t so much an adaption of the books as a completely different story. The television show and book series are so completely different, in fact, that they only share the setting of Roswell, and the names of most of the main characters. (I say most, because Liz Ortecho becomes Liz Parker;  Isabel is the only character whose character is recognizable in both, but she’s something of a trope,being a blonde ice queen.) The origin stories are utterly different: in the  books, the kids are the children of alien scientists whose ship was sabotaged, who are concealed by the lone surviving crewman.    In the television show, the kids are…cloned reincarnations of alien rulers killed in a civil war, whose personalities have been made manifest in human bodies.
 The television’s drama was a story that could never decide where it wanted to go, and as science fiction it was far inferior.  The original books had an overarching and integrated plot;  for instance, the second villain is leading a revolution against the third villain, the teens’  home planet’s social order, and while he’s psychotic the history books will pretty him up if he wins.   The television show was almost random in the baddies.  (The less said about “The Skins”, the better. ) But as much as I regard the plot of the books and the development of most of the characters inferior, I am still a fan of the show — I’ve watched all three seasons through perhaps four times in the last ten years. Why?  
It’s all about William Sadler, who plays Sheriff Jim Valenti. (You may recognize him as Agent Sloan from Deep Space Nine, or Chesty Puller from The Pacific)  In the books, the sheriff is nothing but evil incarnate. He is misery wearing black shades, a grey man who silently stalks and kills. His son Kyle has slightly more personality, being an obnoxious jock with a penchant for evil, but both creatures are beyond redemption.  In Roswell, Valenti is the best character in the series. He begins as the aliens’ antagonist, trying to figure out what happened in that restaurant when Max saved Liz,but by the second season he is their ally — and he pays for it. His son Kyle likewise starts an obnoxious jock, and  while he’s never as gloriously redeemed as his father, he is utterly sympathetic…and, hilariously, Buddhist. (There is a “I Love Kyle Valenti” tumbler.)  Valenti’s character is written far more humanely here, but Sadler’s acting is what really sells him.   I’ve never liked clean-shaven and professional heroes; Sadler is more weathered — craggy, even.  He wouldn’t be out of place in a western.  Sadler is given some of the same threads as the teenagers in Roswell — relationships, trying to find his place in the scheme of things — but his acting outclasses the stars, giving the drama an earnestness.   Sadler gives a show of teen drama a level of adult seriousness; it is he who loses his job and nearly his son trying to protect the aliens, and it is he who breaks the news to them when one of the show’s main characters is abruptly killed off. 
While Sadler’s acting and Valenti’s storyline are the main reason I found the show  appealing, it has other aspects going for it.   The supporting characters are a good lot;  Agent Delco from CSI Miami appears here as Jesse Ramirez, another solid addition. There are a few novelty episodes, like Isabella fantasizing that she is in a wacky 1960s sitcom called I Married an Alien, or using the characters in a retelling of the Roswell incident.   Personally, I enjoy the first season the most, skipping around on the second and third. The show was cancelled and ends abruptly, but it has its moments.  As far as book-to-box adaptions go,  Roswell remains the furtherest from the source…if enjoyable in its own ways. 
(And if nothing else, there’s Katherine Heigl,  in character as Isabel, whose fears are hidden by aloof superiority…)
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Celebrating America: Independence Day Reading

Every year since this blog’s inception I have committed part of June and July to Independence-Day reading. The number and variety of the books has grown every year, and usually includes material on the colonial period, the revolution, and the early Republic. This is an election year, however, a season full of rancor and ambition. Politics is so pervasive that I want to get away from it, so this year I am tacking a course away from that bitter port. Instead of war and debate,  the last week of June and early July will instead be a period of American literature — of revisiting or learning anew American stories.   I had also planned to seek refuge in books on small-town America, reading Bill Bryson’s tour of backroads and visiting Wendell Berry’s Port William again, but that will wait until the TBR hits five or less.  Expect Willa Cather, Mark Twain, and Jack London.

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Tubes

Tubes: A Journey to the Center of the Internet
© 2012 Andrew Blum
303 pages

It turns out Ted Stevens was right: the Internet really is a series of tubes, connecting large boxes, and usually in nondescript warehouses that look like self-storage units.  Inspired by a squirrel depriving him of Internet by nibbling on his wires, Andrew Blum decided to investigate the physical infrastructure of the Internet.  The journey took him across the United States and into Germany and Britain, where he discovered that the internet is corporeal. Across the world are businesses devoted solely to housing space where regional networks can directly tie into one another.  Tubes gives a slight sense for how the internet developed, visiting the university where the first connections were made, and then the first commercial network center.  However ethereal the internet may seem to regular users — a mysterious force that binds and penetrates our computer?  — it is given life by not just the creative energy poured into it, but the physical substructure — routers, wires, warehouses, tubes, and cables.  It’s awe-inspiring to think that there are companies whose physical property literally wraps around the world, providing redundant connections in case of an earthquake, although after reading it I’m still a foggy how on all this is done. How do routers know where to send information?   At some level, even the people running the networks aren’t fully aware of their mechanics because there’s so much information to channel. When it comes to data storage, for instance, different bits of a given video could be posted in multiple data centers. It’s rather like the hydro engineers in On the Grid not being able to tell exactly how water got to a specific neighborhood; there are too many possible paths   Blum’s goal of visiting ‘monuments’ of the internet, some of the most pivotal spots —  Google’s data centers, treated with Area 51-type secrecy, the point where the first cable connected New York  and London, the aforementioned networking warehouses — provides general milestones, but they’re disjointed.  If you’re really into the internet and its history, it makes for mildly entertaining reading, but the pieces remain disconnected.

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