Happy Reformation Day!

Timothy George has an excellent piece on Reformation Day posted as the daily article on First Things—a juxtaposition which, I must confess, delights me no end. I particularly appreciate these paragraphs:

On this Reformation Day, it is good to remember that Martin Luther belongs to the entire Church, not only to Lutherans and Protestants, just as Thomas Aquinas is a treasury of Christian wisdom for faithful believers of all denominations, not simply for Dominicans and Catholics. This point was recognized several weeks ago by Franz-Josef Bode, the Catholic Bishop of Osnabrück in northern Germany, when he preached on Luther at an ecumenical service. “It’s fascinating,” he said, “just how radically Luther puts God at the center.” Luther’s teaching that every human being at every moment of life stands absolutely coram deo—before God, confronted face-to-face by God—led him to confront the major misunderstanding in the church of his day that grace and forgiveness of sins could be bought and sold like wares in the market. “The focus on Christ, the Bible and the authentic Word are things that we as the Catholic church today can only underline,” Bode said. The bishop’s views have been echoed by many other Catholic theologians since the Second Vatican Council as Luther’s teachings, especially his esteem for the Word of God, has come to be appreciated in a way that would have been unthinkable a century ago. . . .

Several years ago I was asked to endorse a book by my friend Mark Noll called Is the Reformation Over? I responded by saying that the Reformation is over only to the extent that it succeeded. In fact, in some measure, the Reformation has succeeded, and more within the Catholic Church than in certain sectors of the Protestant world. The triumph of grace in the theology of Luther was—and still is—in the service of the whole Body of Christ. Luther was not without his warts, and we can hardly imagine him canonized as a saint. (Remember: simul iustus et peccator!) But the question Karl Barth asked about him in 1933 is still worth pondering this Reformation Day: “What else was Luther than a teacher of the Christian church whom one can hardly celebrate in any other way but to listen to him?”

Right on.

Happy Hallowe’en!

Yes, I’ve heard all the arguments about why Christians shouldn’t celebrate Hallowe’en; I used to be one of those making them. I don’t anymore, though I do still think that one should be very careful about how one celebrates it. (A couple pre-teens came by the house this evening dressed as, I think, the villain from the Saw movies; that is deeply not right.) Though I do not share her Catholic assumptions, I think Sally Thomas’ recent article on the First Things website, “The Drama of Hallowmas,” captures some important truths:

As a friend of mine observed recently, there is something medieval about Halloween. The masks, the running around in the dark, the flicker of candles in pumpkins, the smell of leaves and cold air—all of it feels ancient, even primal, somehow. Despite the now-inevitable preponderance of media-inspired costumes, Halloween seems, in execution, far closer to a Last Judgment scene above a medieval church door, or to a mystery play, than it does to Wal-Mart. To step outside on Halloween dressed as someone—or something—other than yourself is to step into a narrative that acknowledges that the membrane between our workaday, material world and the unseen realm of spirits is far thinner and more permeable than many of us like to think. . . .

The secular commercialization of Halloween bothers people far less than do its roots in the pagan Celtic festival of Samhain, which the Romans, after the conquest of Britain, eventually conflated with their own Feralia, a feast honoring the dead. When, in the seventh century, Pope Boniface IV instituted the feast of All Saints, to fall on the first of November, the eve of that solemnity coincided with the date of the ancient festival. The addition of the feast of All Souls in the eleventh century completed the three-day Hallowmas, dedicated to the memory of the Christian martyrs and honoring all the faithful departed.

The absorption of pre-Christian cultic observance into the Christian calendar is not limited, of course, to holidays dealing with darkness and death. The Church settled on the date for Christmas by much the same process. Halloween’s emphasis on darkness makes many Christians squeamish, but, to my mind, what my friend observed about the medieval feel of Halloween is more on the money. There is a drama to be played out, like a mystery play in three scenes, and it makes sense only if you observe all three days of Hallowmas—not only Halloween but All Saints’ and All Souls’ days as well. In this context, the very secularity and even the roots-level paganism of Halloween become crucial elements in a larger Christian story.

I think she’s on to something there. As my wife writes, reflecting on this,

While I don’t think that God needed us—or wanted us—to sin in order to tell his story, the fact remains that we DID sin. The world in which we live has darkness and sin and death and shadow. It is what we know and understand and in order to tell ourselves the story of redemption—of rescue from the darkness—one must necessarily start with the darkness. Maybe Halloween, from a Christian point of view, isn’t such a bad place to do that.

It seems to me that a lot of the Christian opposition to Hallowe’en is based on a desire not to start with the darkness, not to have to deal straight out with sin and evil and death. Which is understandable—but not, in the end, helpful. I think Thomas points to a better way. I can’t simply appropriate it, not being Catholic, since that means I don’t celebrate All Saints’ Day or relate to the saints who’ve gone before us in the same way as Catholics do; but I think she has the right idea:

Christian children need not, as some do, dress as saints for Halloween to “redeem” it. There is something right, I think, in acknowledging on Halloween that the day for the saints has not arrived yet. This is salvation history, after all. We are saved from something—even if only from the ordinary, secular world . . .

The cumulative iconography of being, first, a secular character confronting darkness, and then a saint in light, is imaginatively powerful and valuable.

That’s the conjunction we need; that, if you will, is the before-and-after of our lives. To really get it, though, we need to take the “before” seriously.

A note on fascism

In the latest Atlantic, in his review of Peter Hart’s book on the Battle of the Somme, Christopher Hitchens uncorks a remarkable anecdote about “the almost picturesquely reactionary Conservative politician Alan Clark”:

As I marched across Parliament Square, semiconsciously falling into step with the military pace of the right-wing half of this right-left collaboration, Clark said to me: “I suppose you have heard people say that I am a bit of a fascist?” We had a whole lunch ahead of us and I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot, but something told me he would despise me if I pretended otherwise, so I agreed that this was indeed a thumbnail summary in common use. “That’s all [expletive deleted],” he replied with complete equanimity. “I’m really much more of a Nazi.” This was what Bertie Wooster would have called “a bit of a facer”; I was groping for an apt response when Clark pressed on. “Your fascist is a little middle-class creep who worries about his dividends and rents. The true National Socialist feels that the ruling class has a debt and a tie to the working class. We sent the British workers off to die en masse in the trenches along the Somme, and then we rewarded them with a slump and mass unemployment, and then that led to another war that gutted them again.” For Clark, the lesson of this bloodletting was that a truly national, racial, and patriotic class collaboration was the main thing.

That’s a most interesting comment. It does, I think, capture the difference between Nazism and Communism, between national socialism and international socialism, as the latter is all about class unity and conflict between classes. I also have a sense it might have a certain contemporary application, but I’m not sure what. We do most definitely have a ruling class in this country, though it’s more fluid than it was/is in Great Britain; given that fluidity, they have to declare that they have “a debt and a tie to the working class,” but how many of them (in either party) really believe it?

Sarah Palin on safari: big-game hunter bags another RINO

Dede Scozzafava read the handwriting on the wall—or perhaps we might say, in the polls—and realized her campaign for Congress was dead as last month’s fish. She might have stayed in and fought for every vote she could get, but the most she could have managed would have been to give the race to the Democratic candidate, Bill Owens; to give her credit, she responded to the situation in an honorable way, suspending her campaign and endorsing Doug Hoffman. Her formal announcement was completely classy, and leaves a much better impression than her campaign’s earlier decision to call the cops on the Weekly Standard‘s John McCormack; clearly, they didn’t handle that well, but the grace and character she showed in stepping out of the race more than cancels that out, I think.

(Update: Umm, no, she didn’t; despite what she said about acting for the good of her party, she turned around and endorsed Owens, which is the main reason undecideds broke 3-1 for him in the last 72 hours and gave him the race over Hoffman. I hope she enjoys her revenge, and I have to give her points for execution. -10 for class, though.)

This is a major win for Sarah Palin, Fred Dalton Thompson, Rush Limbaugh, Mark Levin, Dick Armey, Rick Santorum, Michelle Malkin, Glenn Beck, and the other Republicans who had the courage and the native wit to revolt against the GOP’s revolting choice as its candidate in NY-23 and back the candidate who actually believes in what the Republican Party stands for. It’s especially a major win for Gov. Palin, because her endorsement of Hoffman was clearly, by a large margin, the biggest single factor in his moving from third to first in the race. After endorsements from Levin, Thompson, Robert Stacy McCain, RedState, and others, Hoffman was gaining support and his fundraising was picking up, but he still hadn’t raised all that much, and he didn’t have a lot of volunteers on the ground to build support and get out the vote. With Gov. Palin’s endorsement, that changed, especially as her endorsement drew other heavyweights like Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty and former New York Gov. George Pataki to do likewise.

All in all, while it was a collaborative effort, Gov. Palin is definitely one who gets major credit, perhaps the most credit, for taking down the Scozzafava campaign. Back in Alaska, she put a few trophies on the wall of her war room of “Republicans” who weren’t upholding the ideals and positions of the Republican Party; now, with her endorsement of Doug Hoffman, she’s added another, her first from the national scene. The national GOP establishment had best pay attention—and so had Blue Dog Democrats.

On the downside of the permanent campaign

One other thing that struck me in that Peggy Noonan column, “There Is No New Frontier,” was this paragraph:

I’m not sure the White House can tell the difference between campaign mode and governing mode, but it is the difference between “us versus them” and “us.” People sense the president does too much of the former, and this is reflected not only in words but decisions, such as the pursuit of a health-care agenda that was inevitably divisive. It has lost the public’s enthusiastic backing, if it ever had it, but is gaining on Capitol Hill. People don’t want whatever it is they’re about to get, and they’re about to get it. In that atmosphere everything grates, but most especially us-versus-them-ism.

I hadn’t really thought about the difference between campaigning and governing in that way, but I think she’s right. Given that governing has become increasingly partisan, increasingly “us versus them,” in recent years, it’s no wonder that popular fatigue and disgust with politics has been increasing.

That of course is why the Obama campaign was so powerful, because it found a way to overcome that fatigue and disgust and generate new enthusiasm and energy for Barack Obama; but while they seem to think they can keep that up forever, this would tend to suggest that in fact, if they keep up the campaign approach, they’ll ultimately get a nasty case of elastic recoil back in their collective face. He can only keep it up so long before his admirers decide he’s just another politician after all . . . and at that point, he’s off the pedestal for good.

“A nation fully settled by government”

Peggy Noonan wrote a column in the Wall Street Journal a couple weeks ago called “There Is No New Frontier” that I’ve been mulling for a while now.  The core of her argument is an analysis of the differing contexts of FDR’s expansion of government in the 1930s and Barack Obama’s efforts to do the same. It’s more of an analogical analysis than a logical one, but I think it holds pretty well:

A big part of opposition to the health-care plan is a sense of historical context. People actually have a sense of the history they’re living in and the history their country has recently lived through. They understand the moment we’re in.

In the days of the New Deal, in the 1930s, government growth was virgin territory. It was like pushing west through a continent that seemed new and empty. There was plenty of room to move. The federal government was still small and relatively lean, the income tax was still new. America pushed on, creating what it created: federal programs, departments and initiatives, Social Security. In the mid-1960s, with the Great Society, more or less the same thing. Government hadn’t claimed new territory in a generation, and it pushed on—creating Medicare, Medicaid, new domestic programs of all kinds, the expansion of welfare and the safety net.

Now the national terrain is thick with federal programs, and with state, county, city and town entities and programs, from coast to coast. It’s not virgin territory anymore, it’s crowded. We are a nation fully settled by government. We are well into the age of the welfare state, the age of government. We know its weight, heft and demands, know its costs both in terms of money and autonomy, even as we know it has made many of our lives more secure, and helped many to feel encouragement.

But we know the price now. This is the historical context. The White House often seems disappointed that the big center, the voters in the middle of the spectrum, aren’t all that excited about following them on their bold new journey. But it’s a world America has been to. It isn’t new to us. And we don’t have too many illusions about it.

Her argument rests less on propositions than on metaphor, on the image she invokes; but it’s a powerful image, and if it’s a valid one—which I believe it is—then I think her argument holds. The President and his administration think they have an opportunity to bring about another major expansion of government, and are determined not to let the crisis go to waste (to use Rahm Emanuel’s language)—but the context isn’t what they think it is, and the parallels they think they see with President Roosevelt don’t actually apply, because the popular attitude toward government isn’t the same now as it was then. They’re failing to factor in the reality that those past interventions have had their own effects, and have changed the board in some important ways.

Americans of FDR’s time could be persuaded that government could do a better job and fix all their problems, because it hadn’t really been tried much before. Americans of our time know better. The New Deal has already been tried, and the Great Frontier, and pushed to the point that another president could stand up and declare, “Government is not the solution to the problem. Government is the problem”; that bell cannot be unrung. While President Obama may well in the end get his government-bloating agenda through, for the powers of the Executive Branch are great, one thing he cannot be is another President Franklin Delano Roosevelt; that opportunity has passed, and ours is a different world.

Farewell to GeoCities

You probably noticed that Yahoo rather ignominiously killed off GeoCities this week. That probably didn’t matter a whit to your life, though, which illustrates why they did it as well as anything could. GeoCities has long since been rendered irrelevant by Blogger, Facebook, WordPress, MySpace, Twitter, Last.fm, and the whole world of what’s commonly called Web 2.0. If you’re like me, your primary mental picture of GeoCities is of acres and acres of ugly websites (which, unfortunately, spawned imitators such as SiteRightNow that are still around, helping people build bad GeoCities knockoffs).

As Slate points out, though, that undersells GeoCities. For all the disaster it became (especially for Yahoo), GeoCities had the right idea. In fact, it was ahead of its time. (That may have been the problem—it was too far ahead of its time for its founders to see the right way to implement its core idea. They did the right thing, but in the wrong way to produce long-term success.)

GeoCities deserves much more credit than we give it, because it was the first big venture built on what is now hailed as the defining feature of the Web 2.0 boom—”user-generated content.”

The company’s founding goal—to give everyone with Internet access a free place on the Web—sounds pretty mundane now. But GeoCities launched in 1995 (it was originally called Beverly Hills Internet), when there were just a few million people online. Back then, the idea that anyone would want to carve out his own space on this strange new medium—and that you could make money by letting people do so—bordered on crazy. (Two other free hosting companies—Tripod and Angelfire—started up at around the same time, but they proved far less popular than GeoCities.) In an early press release, David Bohnett, one of GeoCities’ co-founders, hailed the idea this way: “This is the next wave of the net—not just information but habitation.” Look past the tech-biz jargon, and his prediction is startlingly prescient. Today, few of us think of the Web as a simple source for information; it’s also a place for dissemination, the place where we share life’s most intimate details. In other words, it’s for “habitation”—and GeoCities helped start that trend.

This is why one insider commented,

Had they done things right with GeoCities, there would be no Facebook, YouTube or MySpace.

Unfortunately for them, though, they didn’t, because they only got half the picture; they missed what seems, in retrospect, to be the obvious corollary of their big idea.

The site came upon one of the chief ingredients of Web success—letting people put up their own stuff—but was missing what we’ve since learned is another key feature: a way to help people find an audience for their daily ramblings. The main difference between GeoCities and MySpace is the social network: Both sites let you indulge your creativity, but MySpace gave people a way to show off their pages to friends. On MySpace, your site was no longer shunted off to some little-traveled corner of the Web. Instead it was at the center of your friends’ lives—and so there was some small reward to keep hacking away at it. At least, that was true when MySpace was hot, which is no longer the case—just like GeoCities, it lost cultural cachet to newer, better sites that came along after. In this way, too, GeoCities was a trailblazer, the first example of another reality of user-generated sites: They’re extremely susceptible to faddism. You want a page on GeoCities or MySpace or whatever else only if other people are there too. As soon as the place becomes uncool . . . everyone leaves in droves.

The result is best summed up by T. S. Eliot:

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

This is cool in more ways than I can count

HT: my wife

I think these folks are right to say, “the easiest way to change people’s behaviour for the better is by making it fun to do”; but honestly, that only begins to bring out all the lessons from this one. Imagine the teaching opportunity of staircases like that, what they would do for people’s understanding and appreciation of music . . . we could use many, many more of these.Though Hap is right—our kids being who they are, if we had a staircase like that on our regular route, we’d never get anywhere on time.

Adventures in Greek

I wound up this evening, through a series of events, teaching the girls how to say “Thank you” in Greek—eucharistō in Koine, which has evolved to efcharistō in modern Greek. Their attempts to pronounce it were (of course) uneven, crowned by our youngest, who at one point came out with “used-car-isto”; I had to tell her no one would take that as a thank-you. The images that one generated were priceless.

God, game theory, and the inscrutability of providence

If you don’t read Fangraphs (and if you’re a serious baseball fan, you should), you missed an article recently that was astonishing in both the ambition of its task and the complexity of its argument. Mitchel Lichtman, known to many as MGL, wrote a lengthy post analyzing the Yankees’ sacrifice bunts in the eighth inning of the deciding sixth game of this year’s American League Championship Series and asking the question, “Were they good calls?” His answer was long, involved, complicated, and highly mathematical, and as such would probably be dismissed by many as arcane and pointless, especially since the Yankees (predictably) won regardless. Such a dismissal would be a mistake.

It would be a mistake because MGL answers that question not simply by calculating probabilities but by using game theory. I won’t pretend to understand his article completely at the detail level, but I think I have the essential insight right: predictability is the greatest tactical and strategic sin. Therefore, to maximize one’s chances of success, one must be unpredictable, which means not always going with the probabilities.

Look at it this way. One may calculate out all the probabilities as to whether a given move—such as, say, a sacrifice bunt attempt—is likely to help one’s team win the game or not, but if you calculate them all out, put them in a table, and then rigidly follow that table, what’s going to happen? The other team is going to know what’s coming and respond accordingly, and then all your probabilities are knocked into a cocked hat. For the optimum move to remain the optimum move, one must sometimes do something else; failing that, others will adjust, and their adjustments will turn what had been the best move into a failing move.

Read the post if you want a fuller explanation than that and think you can follow it. For my purposes here, I have to admit that I don’t really care if Joe Girardi made the right call on those bunts or not; I’m more interested in the underlying reality that sometimes the “best move” isn’t the best move, and that sometimes you have to do something that would seem in isolation to be counterproductive in order to best advance your goals.

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