Despite the presence of war criminals there and anger of Korea and China.
Author: Ophelia Benson
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Danny Postel Interview with Ramin Jahanbegloo
Interview was conducted via e-mail in January and February 2006 – just before Jahanbegloo’s arrest.
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Maclean’s Provides Articles on/by Jahanbegloo
Ottawa is powerless to do anything about the imprisonment of one of its citizens.
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Dogma
A more troubling reading, however, is that Nazi speech is worth protecting even if a consequence of that protection is that someone gets hurt or killed. ‘I will defend your right to say it, even if your saying it makes violence more likely against the people attacked in your pamphlets.’ Is that what is meant? Defenders of free speech squirm on this point…they assure us dogmatically that there is no clear evidence of any causal connection between, say, racist posters and incidents of racial violence…
Yeah. The assurance often seems very dogmatic to me – it just somehow has to be true that there is no causal connection between racist speech and racial violence, and hence no clear evidence of same either. It has to be true because defenders of free speech want it to be true because – um – otherwise they find themselves defending free speech that could get people killed and they’d rather not but they’d also rather not think in detail, rather than in dogmatic generalities, about free speech? That’s what I often suspect, anyway.
…in other contexts, American civil liberties scholars have no difficulty at all in seeing a connection between speech and the possibility of violence. They point to it all the time as a way of justifying restrictions on citizens’ interventions at political gatherings. If Donald Rumsfeld comes to give a speech and someone in the audience shouts out that he is a war criminal, the heckler is quickly and forcibly removed. When I came to America, I was amazed that nobody thought this was a violation of the First Amendment…So there is an odd combination of tolerance for the most hateful speech imaginable, on the one hand, and obsequious deference, on the other, to the choreography which our rulers judge essential for their occasional public appearances. The Nazis can disrupt the streets of Skokie, but those who disrupt Rumsfeld’s message will be carried away with the hands of secret service agents clamped over their mouths. I have given up trying to make sense of any of this.
I still sometimes try, but I get lost quickly, like those people who set out to get a PhD in political science and accidentally end up in the English department.
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Putcher Glasses on, People
And there’s this interesting article by Scott McLemee which is a good read in itself and also the cause that – there is much silliness among the commenters. Why does a piece by an omnivorous reader like Scott attract so many people who can’t read at all? People who read the label on a can of pineapple juice and think it contains Crisco? Dunno, but the result is pretty funny. Somebody started off by reading Scott’s “There are plenty of conservative publicists in America now. There are not many conservative thinkers, proper, worthy of the name” and, first, paraphrasing that as “America has lots of conservative pundits. But thinkers? Not so much,” which is a pretty bad job of paraphrasing (also pointless: why not just paste in the actual words?), and leads to an even worse retort: “You should do some reading then.” But then even better, people start giving examples of conservative thinkers [not publicists, remember – the whole point is thinkers as opposed to publicists] in America now. Like these:
“Frederick Hayak. Ayn Rand. Milton Friedman (or any of his fellow Nobel/economics winners). George Will. Pope John II.” “I would also add the late Russell Kirk, Richard Weaver and Peter Viereck.”
See? They’re nearly all at least one of 1. dead 2. not in America 3. publicists but not thinkers. I find that sidesplittingly funny, somehow. Hey – what about Confucius! He was pretty conservative, right? Genghis Khan? Lycurgus?
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Didja Drop Your Compass?
One remark in this CHE piece on learning to hate literature in order to get a PhD in it particularly caught my attention. It’s so expectable and yet so odd.
In a course I taught last spring, after three months of tracing the development of literary theory from humanism to structuralism to poststructuralism to the dilemmas of the present, I finally asked my students the question: “So, why do you want to study literature, knowing what you now know?” I wondered if studying a century of cynicism had altered their motives in the slightest. They were all considering graduate school, but their answers had little to do with what I knew they would need to write in their application essays…It surprised me that none of my students mentioned a commitment to social justice or to some specific political ideology as a motive. Nearly all of them would have skewed to the left on most of the usual subjects. When I asked about that, one said, “If I wanted to be a politician, I’d major in political science. If I wanted to be a social worker, I’d major in sociology.”
Well exactly. Exactly. How terribly odd it is that Thomas H Benton (presumably not that Thomas H Benton, nor that one either) is surprised that none of his students mentioned a commitment to social justice or to some specific political ideology as a motive for studying literature. Why would they? Why on earth would they? What is the connection? Why, on earth, would someone who is fired up with a commitment to social justice or to a political ideology sit down with a beer and a dish of cashews to ponder what kind of advanced degree to get, and come up with – literature? Literature? Why that? Why not opera, or interior design, or mincing and prancing? Those make just as much sense. That is what I always wonder about these bizarro world people who orate about their concern with social justice instead of actually saying anything about literature despite the inconvenient fact that they are, in truth, teachers of literature. Did they take a wrong turn in the corridor and simply keep going until they had the wrong PhD and it was too late? Why don’t they have exactly the same limpid thought the student offered Benton? If they want to do politics, why don’t they get their degrees in political science instead of literature? Why are they so…lost?
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Stride me no Strident
So Katha Pollitt talks a little more about that imbecilic review of her book. Perhaps I’m not the only one who thought it was jaw-droppingly stupid.
Emily Amick: There’s a discussion raging on the blogosphere right now about Wonkette’s ‘post-feminist’ review of your book in the New York Times.
Ah. I rushed over to Google blogsearch to find out about that, and the comments seemed to be running heavily in the ‘jaw-droppingly stupid’ direction. Good. But – what did the Times ever run a review like that for? What is its point? What next? Assigning a stand-up comic to review Amartya Sen’s next book? Assigning Tom Cruise to review a book by John Searle? What is their point? That US public discourse isn’t stupid enough yet, they have to put their shoulders to the wheel and make it even stupider?
Katha Pollitt: You certainly wouldn’t know from the review that the book is not, actually, one long grim fulmination against high-fashion shoes and the young women who wear them. It’s fine that she hated the book (well, not really!), but I wish she had accurately conveyed its contents.
Oh but that wouldn’t do, because that would have been non-stupid, so would have defeated the whole (deeply opaque) purpose.
Katha Pollitt: There are pieces about Republicans, Democrats, Greens, fundamentalists ( of all stripes), creationism in Kansas, sexism in the media…and daycare workers sentenced to long prison terms for sex abuse that almost certainly did not occur. There are pieces about Muslim women’s rights – a topic Wonkette says I’m “fixated” on, which is an odd choice of word, don’t you think? Maybe she’ll tell us someday exactly how much concern is the right amount to have.
Yes, I do think. I very much think, and I’m not the only one. I was telling JS about Cox’s review yesterday via Messenger and he interjected – ‘Fixated?’ Just so: fixated: this is what we have come to. We’ll have to be writing another book about this kind of thing. The grindstone is whirling, the knives are stacked up ready for sharpening.
E.A.: Yet many young women believe the feminist movement doesn’t allow them to wear stilettos and lipstick. So where is the line between “stridency and submission?” K.P.: We’re still on Wonkette, I see. Have you ever heard that word “strident” applied to a man? I can’t believe the conversation is stuck on this idiotic plot point: Feminists with loud voices and hairy legs versus girls who just want to have fun.
Exactly. ‘Strident’ is of course a word largely reserved for feminists, and boring feminists versus fun sexpots is an idiotic plot point. Wonkette should sit on the naughty stool for a very long time.
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Wot’s ‘Cultural Competencies’?
It has to do with the pleasure of interpretation.
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Scott McLemee on Philip Rieff
His writing resembled the private language of some brilliant but eccentric rabbi.
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Richard Ashcroft Discusses Medical Ethics
In all of Ashcroft’s work, there is a trade off between the scientific and the philosophical.
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More Scott McLemee on Philip Rieff
Rieff’s ideas are still very much in the vein of what Sontag denounced as ‘piety without content.’
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Trevor-Roper Wrote a Good Letter
The Observer is skewered as ‘that declining organ of Germanic Wykehamist apocalyptic socialism.’
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Meet the Deity
Anna was standing on a high bluff admiring the sunset – a particularly spectacular one full of gilded clouds – thinking blissfully of God and gratitude and the beauty of the world, when suddenly the sun seemed to swell and pulse, the sky turned every shade of purple and silver, there was ethereal music, and then an angel appeared next to her. “Beloved servant,” remarked the angel pleasantly, “for that thou art our dedicated and humble servant, and the first woman minister of thy parish, we have chosen thee to have an audience with the deity.”
Anna stared, coloured; the earth seemed to tilt and rock all around her; she planted her feet wide apart and hoped not to fall over. “Uh,” she said haltingly, “uh,” she said stupidly, “I am not worthy.” “You don’t get to decide that,” the angel said snappily, making Anna think of Ethel and Mr Salteena and have to suppress a snort of laughter.
“Come on – chop chop.” Anna gaped. “What – now?” “Yes, now,” the angel said crossly, “when did you think, next Tuesday? Get a move on.” “But – I’m not ready, I’m not prepared, I haven’t thought, I don’t know what to say, I haven’t prayed – ” “Look, stupid, this is the deity you’re meeting, not some bishop or CEO or city official – it’s not like you’re going to be able to talk on his level, is it. It’s like an ant trying to “prepare” to have a chat with Einstein. Don’t bother, because it wouldn’t make any difference. And the deity doesn’t like to make plans in advance, or to wait around for dithering humans, so come on.”
“You said his,” she said mournfully, “it’s a man then?” “Oh, no, not really,” the angel said breezily, “we just like to say that to women because it annoys them.” The angel cackled. “I’m not dressed for it,” Anna said; the angel rolled its eyes and made a gesture, and Anna found herself in a bear costume. “Hey!” she said. “It’s too hot, I can’t see, I can’t breathe – it smells bad, too.” “Oh, sorry,” the angel said witheringly, and Anna found herself in a purple and gold brocaded robe. “That better?” “Yes, thank – ” The angel made another gesture and Anna found herself back in her jeans and sweatshirt, but they were dirtier than they’d been before. “Come on,” the angel barked. “You keep saying come on,” Anna said, feeling like Alice, “but how do I come on?” “Move your butt,” was the transcendent reply.
Anna took a step, and found herself in what looked like a basketball court with a few chairs in it. “There you go,” said the angel, and walked off. A guy with a buzz cut in jeans and a sweatshirt with a logo on it approached her. “How ya doin’?” he said, not sounding as if he wanted to know. “Hello,” Anna said self-consciously, “are you – ” “We didn’t drag you here to meet the staff,” he said, and sniggered. “You are a man,” she said. “Not necessarily.” He twirled his hand mockingly in the air over his head, and Anna was confronted by a woman who looked exactly like Ann Coulter. “That better?” “Uh – ” Another twirl, and Buzzcut was back. “Nice outfit,” he said. “Well,” she began, “I wanted to – ” “I know, I know. I liked the bear costume.” He gave a loud bark of laughter and Anna, to her amazement, felt a strong desire to slap him. “Siddown,” he said, flopping himself into a chair. He looked at her appraisingly. “So. You’re pretty old, aren’t you.” Anna recoiled. “Excuse me?” “Old. You’re old. Those lines around your mouth – not attractive.” “Well whose fault is that?” she said hotly. His eyebrows shot up and he gave a huge mocking grin. “Mine?” he said innocently. “Well not mine!” Anna retorted. “I didn’t decide to get lines in my face. They just showed up.” “Like gravy,” he said absently. “Yeah, I know – I’m just saying. They’re not flattering.” “Well I’m sorry if I’m repelling you,” Anna began furiously. “Oh that’s okay,” he said. “I know you can’t help it. You should have stuck with the bear thing though.” He gave another shout of laughter.
“You’re not all that attractive yourself,” Anna said through clenched teeth. “Oh, I know,” he said, “but I don’t have to be. It doesn’t matter what I’m like. People worship me anyway. Like you.” Anna stared at him, digesting this. “I can be beautiful if I feel like it,” he added; he brushed his hand over the top of his head and turned into what looked like a male model in a Calvin Klein ad, then into Greta Garbo, then Harrison Ford, then Julia Roberts, then Buzzcut again. “I like this look though,” he said, “and I get to please myself.” He smirked at her cheerfully.
There was a long pause. “Well,” Anna croaked. She cleared her throat and began again. “Well, that must be very nice for you.”
“Oh, it is,” he said. “It’s ideal. I can do whatever I want to. The unmoved mover.” He gave another bark of laughter.
“That sounds like a rather childish ‘ideal,’” she said, “just doing whatever you want to.”
“Oh, no,” he said, “not at all. Because I’m the one who’s doing it, you see. I’m the deity, so by definition, if I’m doing it, it can’t be childish, it’s divine, omniscient, perfect, all that good stuff.”
“Is – ” Anna’s throat closed. She took a breath. “Is all this a joke to you?”
“Oh, yeah, pretty much.”
“Well…it’s not to us.”
“No, I know.”
She stared. “Don’t you care?”
“Not really. I’m not much good at caring. Not one of my skills.”
“N – not?”
“No.”
“So why do we bother praying to you when we’re ill, or when our children or friends are ill, or we’re frightened or lonely or sad, or there’s an earthquake or a hurricane?”
“Because you’re labouring under a misapprehension, I assume. You think I do care, so you tell me your stuff. And it usually makes you feel better doesn’t it? So no harm done; everybody’s happy. I don’t listen, and you feel better – no problem.”
“I – all this time, that was the one thing I thought I knew: that you cared. That even if you couldn’t help, or wouldn’t, for whatever good theological reason – because it would upset free will, or causality, or the cosmic order, or something – that you cared. That you cared passionately – that your heart bled for us. That every sorrow of ours was a sorrow of yours. Every grief, every loss, every bereavement, was sorrowful to you. That’s what I’ve always told my parishioners.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said. “There are six and a half billion of you now? And I’m supposed to feel all the pain that every single one of you feels? Well that would be a fun job. I don’t think so. Do you notice how much nicer I am than you are? I only make humans suffer their own pain: you want me to suffer that times 6.5 billion! Very generous, very kind. No, it’s a sweet thought, but I’ll pass, thanks.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“But you made the whole thing, we didn’t.”
“So? So I made it, that doesn’t mean I have to feel its pain. You make dinner every night: do you feel its pain while you eat it?” He cackled.
Anna felt herself flushing. “You’re very obnoxious!” she blurted.
“I know. Everyone always tells me.”
“Well if everyone tells you, why don’t you stop?”
He made his eyes very round. “I told you. Why should I? People worship me anyway. And it’s fun being obnoxious – really, really fun. I love it. I’m having a really good time right now.”
Her eyes filled. “Because you’re infuriating me and disillusioning me.”
“Of course. Fun! I know you’re just itching to slap me right across the face, but you can’t very well, being as how I’m the deity and all. I might hit you with my purse.” He cackled again. “I get to say any old thing I want to, and you just have to sit there and fume. You think that’s not fun?” He shook his head. “Wrong.”
“You’re worse than obnoxious then,” she said in wonder. “You’re mean. You’re cruel.”
“Oh yeah? And what are you? Who made you the morality cop? Morality comes from God, remember? That’s me – so obviously whatever I do is good, by definition. Cruelty isn’t good – is it? So I can’t be cruel. Or else cruelty is good. It’s one of those.”
“But you just said you’ve been having fun making me feel miserable. That can’t be good.”
“It can if I say it can. I decide this stuff, not you, don’t you remember?”
“But if this is what you’re like, then…” She trailed off, uncertain.
“Then what? Then you get to decide instead of me?” He grinned sharkishly at her. “You’re very self-righteous, aren’t you. Very pleased with yourself. You feel very superior, don’t you. You know what’s good and bad, and you’ll lay down the law to anyone, including The Lawgiver himself. Why do you think you’re superior?”
“I don’t,” she said angrily.
“Ah, ah – temper. Superior people don’t lose their tempers.”
“I’m not superior. I don’t feel superior. Especially not right now. I feel like a complete fool.”
He nodded sagely. “Buyer’s remorse.”
“I’ll have to re-train now,” she said absently.
“I’d recommend IT, except you’re so old.”
“No,” she said acidly, “I think I’ll take up Satanism.”
He laughed. “A bit superfluous, I think.”
“So…you’re really not good in any way? Not what we humans think of as good at least.”
“Not as far as I can tell. I’m not that bad, I would say – but I do what pleases me, not what pleases you guys.”
“I can’t seem to take it in…”
“Well what I don’t get is, why’d you ever think anything else? What else would I be? Did you just never look at the world around you, or what?”
She blinked rapidly, trying to drive the tears back. “I thought you had your reasons. You know…your inscrutable will…”
He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s what everyone says. It just sounds like a formula, to me. They don’t like what they see when they look at the world, so they write up this label, “God’s Inscrutable Purpose” and slap it on there and figure that takes care of it. But it’s just a label. There’s nothing behind it.”
“You’re not trying to make us stronger, or braver, or more compassionate, or something like that?”
He made big eyes at her again. “No. Nothing like that. I don’t care whether you guys are braver or more compassionate or not. I really don’t – I’m just not interested. But you keep thinking I do. You’re a weird bunch of animals, you know. You can ignore anything, no matter how obvious it is.”
“You’re not much like George Burns,” Anna said inanely.
“Well you’re not much like John Denver. So it goes.” He stood up. “Well, this has been fun, but I have to go work out now. Moonbeam here will show you out.”
The angel indeed was indeed beckoning to her from the door. “Nice meeting you,” Anna said, like a fool, as she turned to go.
“Vaya con dios,” he called, with a final bray of mocking laughter.
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Sunny Hundal on Identity Games
The Hindu Council UK decided to lob their own grenade in the identity politics debate last week.
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Inayat Bunglawala on Bright and the MCB
Look for Sunny’s comments.
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What it Takes to Teach Literature at University
A decade or more of immersion in a highly politicized and anti-literary academic culture.
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Interview With Katha Pollitt
So, what about that stupid Wonkette review? Well, it was stupid.
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‘Hadiths are serious stuff’
This is a piece of really very good news. The author says it hasn’t had much attention in the West – or elsewhere either. So let’s pay attention.
In a bold but little-noticed step toward reforming Islamic tradition, Turkey’s religious authorities recently declared that they will remove these statements [such as “If a husband’s body is covered with pus and his wife licks it clean, she still wouldn’t have paid her dues.” – OB] , and more like them, from the hadiths – the non-Koranic commentary on the words and deeds of the prophet Muhammad…Hadiths are serious stuff. More than 90 percent of the sharia (Islamic law) is based on them rather than the Koran, and the most infamous measures of the sharia – the killing of apostates, the seclusion of women, the ban on fine arts, the stoning of adulterers and many other violent punishments for sinful behavior – come from the hadiths and the commentaries built upon them. Eliminating these misogynistic statements from the hadiths is a direct challenge to some of the most controversial aspects of Islamic tradition.
The most controversial and the most life-ruining and misery-producing. What a tremendous step toward the improvement of the lives of millions of people, especially women, it would be if all religious authorities removed such hadiths. Let’s earnestly wish them every success.
The media and intellectuals of Ankara and Istanbul largely welcomed last month’s decision, which the Turkish government supported…Yet, despite the rhetoric about the need to make alliances with progressive Islam in the midst of the fight against terrorism, Turkey’s move toward reform has been widely overlooked in the West, and there has been little acknowledgment of it in other Muslim countries.
I wonder if the BBC has asked the MCB what it thinks about it yet.
“I can’t imagine a prophet who bullies women,” said Hidayet Tuksal, a feminist theologian in Ankara. “The hadiths that portray him so should be abandoned.” Similarly, in proposing to create its new standard collection, the Turkish Diyanet intends to look beyond the chain of transmitters to logic, consistency and common sense. In many ways, this is a revival of an early debate in Islamic jurisprudence between rival camps known as the adherents of the hadiths and the adherents of reason – a debate that ended with the triumph of the former.
Go, adherents of reason. Sayings from the 9th century that can’t be second-guessed in the light of reason are not the kind of thing that ought to triumph.
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No Continuum Between Science and Non-science
You can’t practice methodological naturalism 99% of the time and still claim to be a scientist.
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Kent Hovind Busted on Federal Charges
Dr. Dino claims he is employed by God, receives no income, has no expenses and owns no property.
