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The System, the Rebels, and the People

(For 3 Quarks Daily)

I have been re-reading Paradise Lost, prompted by the battle between Immortals and demons in the movie Ne Zha 2. The film, if you have not seen it, depicts a ruling party turned into a vehicle for the personal ambitions of its leader. If you ask me, that is; consider yourself warned that I am rather strongly disposed these days to connect everything to contemporary politics.

Whether the poem explores forms of resistance after the battle to depose a ruthless dictator has been lost, or whether Satan is an opportunistic agitator, campaigning on draining the swamp but in fact only out to be worshipped himself – or both – modern analogies easily suggest themselves. William Empson compared Milton’s God to Joseph Stalin.[1] If I don’t name names, it is out of respect both for you the reader and for the heroes in Milton’s poem, which are more eloquent, less petty, and show more depth than their counterparts in present-day anti-democratic politics.

Still, Milton’s account of the Fall allows us to psychologize. We can indulge in the belief that if people had chosen better, we wouldn’t have been in such a mess right now. I think that should be fun for both of us, or cathartic for me at least. In any case, I am telling you in advance, so that if you continue reading, you don’t “pretend / Surprisal, unadmonished, unforewarned”.[2]

The new favorite

The plot of Paradise Lost is set in motion by God. We hear of this from the arch-angel Raphael, who is visiting Adam and Eve and tells the story of how the Father gathered all angels before his throne.

They arrive in their millions, and not as equals. Standards, banners, and shiny decorations indicate “hierarchies, […] orders, and degrees”, of a supposedly meritocratic nature.[3] At this assembly, however, God creates a new office, bypassing the entire hierarchy over which he presides. He puts his ‘Son’ in charge of everything and everyone, and threatens whoever disobeys him with eternal darkness. It is one of many scenes in which the God of Paradise Lost seems incapable of interacting with his inferiors other than through loyalty tests.

In human politics, our emotions tell us that such abuse of power requires resistance. We feel outrage on behalf of the angels, as we feel on behalf of lawmakers facing the confirmation of an insultingly unqualified cabinet member; even if we otherwise loathe their politics, we will them to resist the mad king in some way. Milton would go so far as to defend regicide. In divine politics, however, the role of would-be regicide is played by the devil. When God promulgates his decree, the arch-angel we know as Satan exchanges glances with his lieutenant Beelzebub. Afterwards, he shares in code his intention to rebel: “prepare / Fit entertainment to receive our king, / The great Messiah”.[4]

C.S. Lewis, whose Preface to the poem pours cold water on romantic and Satan-friendly readings of it, sees no contradiction between Milton’s “republicanism for the earth and royalism for heaven”, because Milton believed deeply in a metaphysical hierarchy.[5] Being put in your place by the Supreme Being is not a genuine case of political humiliation, because it changes nothing about your relation to him or other beings. Satan’s response would be appropriate if God were, as he suspects, simply a powerful aristocrat, who came to occupy the iron throne through historical accident; if he were a player in the great game of fate trying to grab more power for his party. But that is not the situation.

Divine birtherism

The seraph Abdiel throws this in Satan’s face: “Shalt thou give law to God, shalt thou dispute / With him the points of liberty, who made / Thee what thou art[…]?”[6] God’s loyalist angels are grateful for their existence. What in our fallen eyes seems to be a precarious position under a capricious monarch is to them a reminder that their happiness depends on something larger than them. Only a large minority of angels, Satan in particular, believe that the rule of the Son takes something away from them. If the system does not allow them to be at the top, then the system needs to be taken down.

Although this will prove impossible, we do get a glimpse of what the world would have looked like had Satangotten his way. Throughout the entire dispute, Satan has positioned himself on a “royal seat / High on a hill”,[7] in imitation of God. His democratic rhetoric is disingenuous from the start; he doesn’t seek to share power, but to topple and replace the existing elites. The rules and institutions that appear to a part of the populace as an adversary, standing in the way of their autonomy, are in fact standing between them and a darker world of unrestrained competition.

The rebellious angels are not just mistaken about the nature of the powers-that-be, or about their chance of success; they are also mistaken about what it would mean for their rebellion to succeed. This much is clear; what is less clear is how they were supposed to know better. To a crucial argument presented by Abdiel – the angels were created by God, and through the hands of the Son at that – he replies: “Strange point and new! / Doctrine which we would know whence learned”.[8]

A fair question, it would seem. In modern American fashion, Satan sees himself as self-made, and distrusts the mainstream media’s account of his own existence as well as that of the Son. William Empson, very much not an American,[9] yet believes that Satan is on such strong ground here that Milton must have meant for us to take his side.[10] A likelier interpretation is that Satan is engaging in motivated reasoning. He is a creation sceptic because that best suits his narcissism; he insists on seeing everyone’s long-form birth certificate because doubt about it serves his politics. When he asks “Remember’st thou / Thy making while the Maker gave thee being?”,[11] he is asking for impossible testimony. Of course, he doesn’t remember self-creating either.[12]

Satan has gravitated towards flawed metaphysics and theology the way successful entrepreneurs gravitate towards flawed economics and politics. They attribute to themselves the recognition the system has given them, and rather than grateful for their opportunities, it makes them resentful they have not risen higher. They start ranting against social security, progressive taxation, government subsidies, and whatever else they imagine is holding them back, without realizing those institutions were what made their success possible in the first place. Milton presents this as a genuine misunderstanding, but as blameworthy nonetheless.

A sense of injured merit

In the last statements Satan and Abdiel exchange before the battle in heaven, Satan refers to his army as

                A third part of the gods, in synod met

                Their deities to assert: who, while they feel

                Vigour divine within them, can allow

                Omnipotence to none.[13]

The rebellion is a literal test of God’s power. It is inspired by the rebels’ sense of self-reliance, which has not been a live political issue until the introduction of the Son polarized the angels. Satan: “At first I thought that liberty and heaven / To heavenly souls had been all one; but now / I see that most through sloth had rather serve”.[14] To him, the coming fight is a contest between the free and the unfree, which the free are bound to win.

Both sides agree that this dispute can now only be resolved by force. In fact, the first-ever act of physical violence in cosmic history belongs to the loyalists: Abdiel strikes the blow that starts a three-day war in heaven. In the first two days, God sits back and watches – equipping his own angels with better weapons and inventing pain only for the rebels, but otherwise allowing the two armies to be roughly evenly matched. After mining heaven for sulfur and concocting gunpowder, the rebels even seem to have the upper hand.

This initial back-and-forth serves to demonstrate the special status of the Son: it is not through the strength of the angels, but through divine superpowers that the rebels are soundly defeated. The irresistible force the Son wields on the third day makes it difficult to deny God’s omnipotence from now on. This apparently shatters the ideological foundation of the rebellion, but remember that God has cut off any hope of reconciliation in advance.[15] While the rebel angels are still falling, the Son is already busy creating the world so that their places in heaven can be filled with humans.[16]

In the opening scene of the poem, Satan wakes up in hell. Having acknowledged God’s superior strength with a subtle accusation – “till then who knew / The force of those dire arms?”[17] – he warns in the same breath that this does not change “that fixed mind, / And high disdain from sense of injured merit, / That with the mightiest raised me to contend”.[18] His resentment against the existing order is inventive; his plans for undermining it will adapt.

Suspending hell

Political debate in Milton’s hell looks comparatively sane. There is no question, for instance, of pretending that the battle was rigged or has actually been won if you count differently. (The one person that wants to storm the Capitol is shut down quickly.) Satan schemes and manipulates, but he tells no big lies in Parliament.

There are rhetorical liberties taken, both by Satan’s party and the other fallen angels. These make the speeches in hell much more attractive than anything we hear from heaven: the loyalist angels’ media appearances, later in the poem, are always pre-approved by their superior, and full of scripted references to his policy priorities – i.e., the importance of obedience and not eating from that tree. It is the opposition that, from outside of the heavenly bureaucracy, can articulate exciting alternatives.

The pan-demonic assembly has a genuine decision to make about the course to follow. Doveish speeches by Belial and especially Mammon paint a picture of how hell can be made tolerable, or even pleasant, through forbearance and hard work. Mammon’s vision almost carries the day. Satan, not a utilitarian, desires a different outcome, and he has arranged for his collaborator to sway public opinion with a well-timed intervention. Beelzebub argues that God will never allow his prisoners to be happy, and that satisfaction can now be won only through revenge.

According to Stanley Fish, the whole debate is absurd because it takes place under the assumption that creaturely agency is even possible. Beelzebub, however, is not naïve about the “absoluteness of God’s control”.[19] He does not deny it; he believes he has found a metaphysical loophole. Having resolved to respect the free will of his creatures, even an omnipotent and omniscient God could be made to watch his creation derail.

This is not hypothetical; it is what just happened in heaven. Moreover, except for the unknown quantity that is the Son, Beelzebub has made a correct assessment of his former friends up there. Once the plan is set in motion – Satan will travel to paradise and corrupt the humans – God predicts its success. He wonders aloud whether one of his courtiers is willing to take the fall for those unhappy humans: “Dwells in all heaven charity so dear?”[20] All angels look at their feet, unwilling to take up this suicide mission.

The plan is bold and clever. It is also cruel. It preys on the innocent and vulnerable. It captures and corrupts a right – free choice – that exists in the interest of rational beings, and uses it against them. It leads to suffering and loss. The rebels’ rhetoric seems heroic when framed as resistance against a mighty foe, but the nature of the cause matters. The cause has now become killing civilians. The cunning and courage this requires does not make it good.

When Satan leaves for his overseas adventure, his peers stay behind, playing sports, composing nostalgic songs whose beauty ‘suspends’ hell,[21] philosophizing, or exploring. Though their activities are remarkably like respectable pastimes on earth or even in heaven, the fallen angels are described as aimless – “in wandering mazes lost”.[22] To the extent that there is direction to their existence, and hope to lift their spirits, it is political: it is embodied by the dirty operation Satan is executing on their behalf. That Satan and Beelzebub exacted their consent through demagoguery; that absent their manipulation, the masses may have been ready to vote for Mammon’s godless but much less harmful vision, does not make a difference – what matters is how they did in fact vote. It is Satan who enters the snake, but they will all be cursed for it.[23]

‘Look on me’

Adam and Eve get ready to go about their day’s gardening work. Because there is so much to do and the two lovers have been known to distract each other, Eve suggests they could work more efficiently by dividing their labor. Adam praises her for putting on her thinking cap, before patiently explaining the issue with this lovely idea. Individually, they might be more vulnerable to the enemy whose cautionary tale Raphael has told, and who they know is now scheming against them. Eve, mildly offended by the implication she cannot be trusted, persists. Adam reluctantly lets her go.

When the snake finds her alone, it tells her a straightforward lie: that eating the fruit has enabled it to talk. Just imagine, then, the heights it can raise fair Eve to; she could be a goddess! Oh, but the tree is forbidden, on pain of death? Typical, scoffs the conspiracy channel. God wants to “keep ye low and ignorant”;[24] taking the red pill will open your eyes, which is why the government is censoring the truth about it. Its threats are empty; the snake is doing fine.

Can Eve be blamed for acting on this misinformation? Though in Milton’s sexist universe she constitutes the less rational half of Eden’s population, she has received her basic education; Raphael’s history and civics lessons were meant for her and Adam both. On the other hand, there is indeed a talking snake in front of her, and it cunningly entangles its lie with the evidence of her senses – “Look on me, / Me who have touched and tasted”.[25] Has she simply been outsmarted?

Not according to the poem. Throughout Paradise Lost, characters give moving speeches. The choices of the audience remain their own. Of the many millions of angels who happened to be in Satan’s and Beelzebub’s employ and were therefore called to rebel,[26] only Abdiel resisted Satan’s reasoning. This is enough to prove that God did not punish the rebels for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but for their choice; “freely they stood who stood and fell who fell.”[27] Likewise, having been presented with Raphael’s official propaganda and the snake’s alternative facts, it is now up to Eve whether she allows herself to be swayed – not to her intelligence, but to the steadfastness of her will. She is tested, and revealed to be too prone to believe flattery and false promises: “his words, replete with guile, / Into her heart too easy entrance won”.[28] The cleverness of Satan’s algorithm is no excuse. His message is ‘tuned’ to Eve’s particular (female) weaknesses and insecurities, but if she had been better, he would still have failed.

Adam, though horrified by the path his other half has taken, chooses to follow her on it rather than face losing her. He has kept the lessons of history closer to his mind, but tells himself maybe things will not be so bad this time.[29] His motives may be touching and his rationalizations appealing, but just like Eve’s, they don’t add up to a justification for breaking the one taboo. “For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered, / The high injunction not to taste that fruit”[30]

With wandering steps and slow

Satan is a would-be autocrat, incapable of rising to the top in the current system and no match for the existing elites; therefore, he goes through the people, using deceit and misinformation to prod them to resentment. That does not mean that Milton’s God represents liberal democracy. Although there is a hint that God intends to abolish his own monarchy in the far future, Orlando Reade notes this looks awfully like a dictator’s promise – sure, he will resign; “just not yet”.[31] In any case, during the action heaven and earth are paternalistic one-party states.

The poem’s metaphysical assumptions – its hierarchy between creator and creatures, its libertarian conception of free will – are outdated; even given those assumptions, the project of ‘justifying the ways of God to men’ fails to the point of backfiring, as there is no excuse for hell. Within the poem, to be sure, we are to see the system as benign, those who want to overthrow it as selfish and mistaken, and the people as misled but culpable; but this requires a lot of suspended disbelief and still proves nothing about any regime on earth. Milton would probably be the last person to want it to favor the status quo by default.

The analogies that came to me apply on some levels of abstraction but fall apart on many others. Still, I believe they are true to the spirit of the work in this way: that what is good for us and what we are attracted to are often different, and that this is a serious ethical and existential hazard, especially in politics. Some acts give a temporary sense of freedom and agency, a rush of fresh air; but the desire for self-assertion that makes them appealing also makes them dangerous. Discarding a rule-based order and disregarding the interests of others gives the illusion of taking back control, but makes you less free in the end.

I believe all of this is in Milton. His warning that relatable choices may mess things up irreversibly, though it was not written for electoral democracies, translates well to them. The alchemy that transmutes rich inner worlds and complex motivations into distinct and definite public choices and commitments exists in real life now, in every country that counts votes fairly. We are free there, but we can lose that freedom through exercising it poorly. When we do so, stories about how noble we thought our motivations were, what we hoped to achieve, how we saw the facts, how from our point of view the Jedi were evil, will not save us. A poet like Milton can be generous enough to tell those stories and respect our ambiguity – even “stretching our minds about Satan”[32] – but we live with the outcome all the same.

Paradise Lost is about self-inflicted loss. Its most moving passages show its protagonists realizing what they have done, and why they cannot undo it. In Satan, this leads to despair – “So farewell hope, and with hope, farewell fear, / Farewell remorse; all good to me is lost”.[33] Adam and Eve respond differently. They accept that through their actions the world – including their natural environment – has changed for the worse. Restoring what was good will be a long and painful journey, which they begin “hand in hand with wandering steps and slow”.[34] We should wish them well, as we should anyone in their predicament; and we should consider ourselves warned.


[1] William Empson, Milton’s God (Chatto&Windus 1961) 146.

[2] 5.244-245. Quotations from Paradise Lost follow the text in John Milton, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Gordon Campbell ed. (1992 / 2024).

[3] 5.590-594.

[4] 5.689-691

[5] C.S. Lewis, A preface to Paradise Lost (Oxford University Press 1942 / 1960) 73.

[6] 5.822-825

[7] 5.756-757

[8] 5.856-857

[9] “Like most Englishmen, I never know what Americans mean by a liberal; the story goes that the only way for an academic American to be quite safe from this smear, which would cost him his employment, is to give the secret police documentary proof that he has beaten one of his slaves to death with his own hands. ‘Why, that settles it; that’s American freedom; he can’t be a liberal’; but nothing less than that is enough.” (Empson, Milton’s God, 15.)

[10] Empson, Milton’s God,89.

[11] 5.857-858

[12] The point is made by Gordon Teskey in a footnote to this passage (Milton, Paradise Lost: 2nd Norton critical edition, 133).

[13] 6.156-159

[14] 6.164-166

[15] 5.615

[16] 7.189-190

[17] 1.93-94

[18] 1.97-99

[19] Stanley Fish, Surprised by sin: the reader in Paradise Lost (2nd edition: MacMillan Press 1997) 170.

[20] 3.216

[21] 2.554

[22] 2.561

[23] 10.519-520

[24] 9.704

[25] 9.687-688

[26] 5.683-684

[27] 3.102

[28] 9.733-734

[29] 9.928-929

[30] 10.12-13

[31] Orlando Reade, What in me is dark (2024), end of ch5(referring to 6.730-733).

[32] Michael Cavanagh, Paradise Lost: a primer. Scott Newstok ed. (2020) 28.

[33] 4.108-109

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Herinneringen aan Gijs Rommelse

Ik had een stapeltje documenten bij me, formulieren van de lerarenopleiding waarop stond in welk stadium van mijn stage welke handtekeningen waar gezet moesten worden, op basis van welke aangetoonde competenties en volgens welke beoordelingsformats.

Mijn stagebegeleider keek me met een mild geamuseerde glimlach aan. Die papieren konden we ook gewoon vergeten, zei hij; we hadden wel wat beters te doen.

De precieze formulering weet ik nu niet meer; maar trefzeker als die was, en goed getimed, zette deze zin meteen de toon voor onze relatie als coach en leraar-in-spe. Gijs was no-nonsense, en wist wat hij echt vond en wat niet, wat hoofdzaak was en wat bijzaak. Het zou me niet verbazen als hij ergens in zijn weergaloze geheugen die zin over die beoordelingsformats nog had opgeslagen, misschien ook een beetje trots op het feit dat die, blijkens mijn oogopslag, het beoogde effect had gehad. Maar tot dat geheugen, tot dat grote hoofd heb ik geen toegang meer, en nu blijkt dat ik niet meer letterlijk weet wat het precies was dat Gijs precies zei toen ik hem in september 2013 ontmoette, waardoor ik meteen wist dat ik het getroffen had met mijn stagebegeleider.

Ik had het getroffen. Ik was net begonnen om serieus gevolg te geven aan wat ik voelde als mijn soort-van-roeping tot het leraarschap, en nu, ruim zeven jaar later, ben ik me veel meer dan toen bewust van alle manieren waarop ik de indruk had kunnen wekken voor dat vak ongeschikt te zijn. De stage was licht, nauwelijks meer dan één dag in de week, en ik integreerde totaal niet in de school; Gijs was zo goed als de enige volwassene die mij als docent in actie zag. Als hij het niet had zien zitten, weet ik niet waar ik een second opinion vandaan had gehaald. Gijs zag het wel zitten. Toen de opleidingsbegeleider een jaar later een rommelige les met ons nabesprak die hij had bijgewoond, en een kritische opmerking begon te maken over mijn klassenmanagement, negeerde Gijs deze bijzaak en begon hij uit te leggen waarom ik zo’n geschikte docent was. De eerste zin, met gezag uitgesproken, herinner ik me, want die zou ik koesteren: “Ik zou Jeroen als collega willen hebben.”

Gijs kwam meteen tot de kern, zowel inhoudelijk als persoonlijk. Er zijn veel mensen die, als ze me zo plotseling zouden ontvallen, niet zouden hebben geweten hoe ik ze zag, waarom ze belangrijk voor me waren, wat ik in ze waardeerde en wat mijn belangrijke herinneringen aan ze waren. Tegen Gijs heb ik die dingen wel kunnen uitspreken, deels omdat hij er gewoon naar vroeg, bijvoorbeeld in de vorm van een LinkedIn-recommendation, en deels omdat hij zelf praatte over wat hij op zijn hart had. Hij was een open boek, en bij hem werd je een open boek. Over lesgeven, over academia, over schrijven, over levenskeuzes en ambities – Gijs vroeg en hij gaf terug. Hij onthield alles, en vergat alleen welke dingen hij je zelf al had verteld, om anekdotes net zo uitgebreid een tweede of derde keer op te brengen als hij eerder al had gedaan, met dezelfde combinatie van trots en ironie.

Dat het meteen klikte, was ook omdat ik in Gijs een bevestiging zag dat docentschap en academia te combineren waren, en hij in mij (denk ik) een bevestiging zag dat die combinatie nastrevenswaardig was: hij was een voorbeeld voor me en dat was een rol die hem paste. Geleidelijk is de combinatie mij moeilijker gebleken. Voor Gijs vloeiden lesgeven en academisch schrijven voort uit een diepe interesse en kennis, en kregen ze daardoor allebei iets moeiteloos. Gijs bereidde geen lessen voor en wijdde aan de vorm ervan geen zorgen; hij vertelde over geschiedenis, en daar praatte en discussieerde hij met zijn leerlingen over. Zo simpel was het, als je het hem zag doen, en de formule werkte evengoed bij de 1mavo-tto-klas (“one mavo”, spreek uit mévo) als bij de 6vwo-groepen. Zo simpel was het, als je tenminste wel al eerst Gijs was.

Gijs was, schreef ik op zijn LinkedIn-pagina, de geschiedenisdocent die we allemaal hadden willen hebben; een onuitputtelijke bron niet alleen van kennis, maar ook van duiding, inzicht en perspectief. Hij haalde het beste uit zijn leerlingen – de profielwerkstukken die hij me liet inzien waren van een niveau waar BA-studenten geschiedenis nog een puntje aan konden zuigen; maar hij was even trots dat een zittenblijver onder zijn hoede geschiedenis eindelijk was gaan snappen en zelfs het leukste vak was gaan vinden. In 2014 raakte een groep van zijn leerlingen gemotiveerd om op een vrije zaterdag naar Ieper af te reizen. Gijs moedigde dit aan en ging mee als gids, op een dag die duurde van ’s ochtends 6 tot ’s avonds 12. Iedereen was daar uit pure belangstelling, omdat Gijs je ervan doordrong dat geschiedenis betekenisvol is, dat je je een keer in je leven moet hebben ingebeeld hoe het moet zijn geweest om in de loopgraven te staan “met je achttien jaar, in de modder”. Ik reed toch zeker wel mee?

We zorgden ongeveer jaarlijks dat we elkaar zagen om bij te praten, en tussendoor hadden we met enige regelmaat aanleiding om elkaar ergens van op de hoogte te houden – over aanstaande publicaties (die waren er bij Gijs altijd veel), over een oud-leerling die een scriptieprijs had gewonnen, maar ook nog steeds over hoe het ging met de belangrijke mensen in onze levens — mijn relatie(s), zijn gezin. Gijs had een groot hoofd en een groot hart, een geheugen en een interesse waar de wereldgeschiedenis en duizend echte mensen in pasten. Zo iemand raakt veel mensen aan, en ik schrijf deze dingen niet op omdat ik denk dat ik bijzonder was voor Gijs maar omdat ik wil vastleggen waarom hij bijzonder was voor mij. Hij was bijzonder door de vanzelfsprekendheid waarmee hij een band wist te onderhouden tussen alle andere verantwoordelijkheden door (“Vanavond ff facetimen/skypen? Da’s leuker dan staan typen op de parkeerplaats van de ikea delft”). Hij was bijzonder doordat hij me op een unieke manier kende – ik zoek naar een formulering die niet triviaal en niet pathetisch is; ik bedoel dat ik met hem over het hele leven praatte, dat dat soort gesprekken met hem een eigen, onvervangbare dynamiek hadden.

En hij was bijzonder door pure persoonlijkheid. Hij stond middenin het leven en tussen de mensen, en torende er tegelijkertijd bovenuit. Als ik aan een geschiedenisleraar denk, denk ik aan hem.

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Windmill-bashing Squared

(new 3QuarksDaily-column)

The most charitable, forward-looking take on the science wars of the 90s is Stephen Jay Gould’s, in The Hedgehog, the Fox, and the Magister’s Pox (2003), a delightful book about dichotomies between the sciences and humanities. His diagnosis is primarily that scientists have taken too literally or too seriously some fashionable nonsense, and overreacted; and if everybody can just calm down already, things will be alright and both sides could “break bread together” (108). Gould saw the science wars themselves as a marginal and slightly comical skirmish, almost a mere misunderstanding. “Some of my colleagues”, he said,

“have become legitimately disturbed by a few truly silly and extreme statements from the ‘relativist’ camp, largely made by poseurs rather than genuine scholars, and have mistaken these infrequent sound bites of pure nonsense for the center of a serious and useful critique. Then, falsely believing that the entire field of ‘science studies’ has launched a crazed attack upon science and the concept of truth itself, they fight back by searching out the rare inane statements of a few irresponsible relativists […] and then presenting a polemic defense of science, ultimately helpful to no one”. (99)

… (more here)

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books

A gospel and theodicy according to Rutger Bregman

(new 3QuarksDaily-column)

Rutger Bregman’s Humankind: A Hopeful History is a clearly written argument if ever there was one. Bregman believes humans are a kind species and that we should arrange society accordingly. The reason why this thesis needs intellectual support at all is not that it is particularly profound or complicated, but that there are so many misunderstandings to be cleared away, so many apparent objections that need to be overcome.

You have already thought of those objections, or you will if you take half a minute. Bregman confronts many of them squarely. He looks at historical atrocities, social-psychological experiments such as the Stanford prison experiment, and famous anecdotes about human cruelty or indifference, patiently explaining how we should look at these in a different light. The anecdotes turn out to be less damning to human nature, and the experiments more flawed than common perception has it.

Of course, this leaves, well, human history. Bregman is aware that his beloved humans have committed all kinds of horrific acts of violence over the millennia. This is a problem for his thesis, and it remains one. Though the book does present an attempt to explain all the violence in a way that lets human nature off the hook, I do not think that this attempt is satisfactory.

… (more here)

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books

A Sacrifice to a Dark God: Iris Murdoch, The Black Prince

“Bradley, I want you to go with me to the lawyer, and I want you to go with me to the hairdresser, I must get my hair rinsed. I think I can do just that, it won’t be too much for me. Then I think I’ll rest.” (299)

In the first part of The Black Prince, Bradley Pearson wants to get away from London to start writing the great work of art he believes he has in himself. He sees himself as a puritan; art is not something produced lightly and easily, but is the fruit of discipline and ascetic preparation. This high-minded view of art and the artist stands in contrast to that of his friend and rival Arnold, a successful writer whose success Pearson resents and with whom he often clashes. “‘Art isn’t chat plus phantasy. Art comes out of endless restraint and silence.’ / ‘If the silence is endless there isn’t any art!’” (50)

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Why I’ll change how I talk about proof

New 3QuarksDaily column:

I have some very simple New Year’s resolutions, and some that require an entire column to spell out. One example of the latter is that I want to make a subtle but meaningful change in how I talk to my (middle and high school) math students about proofs.

First, I need to be open about the fact that talking about proof in mathematics comes with an especially strong impostor syndrome: as a secondary school teacher, who am I to talk about the nature and limits of deductive reasoning in a discipline of which I have barely scratched the surface? I know high school proofs of high school mathematical concepts; I am vaguely aware that people much cleverer than I have tried to reduce all mathematical claims to analytical (logical) truths, or at least to a limited set of axioms; and I believe that after having mentioned this, I have to name-drop Gödel as the person who has supposedly put a stop to these projects, even though I have never studied his incompleteness theorem and doubt I would be able accurately to judge its relevance and meaning. That’s about it.

More here.

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atheism books

Nihilism in the 21st century

New 3quarksdaily column:

In a radio sketch by the British comedians David Mitchell and Robert Webb, David Mitchell plays an interviewer trying to get a cabinet minister to say what he really thinks about the government’s funding cuts. At first, Robert Webb, playing the minister, says there is no disagreement between him and the cabinet, but the interviewer presses on, continually repeating the same question: “OK …. but what do you really think?”

At one point, the minister unrealistically breaks under these faux-critical questions, and admits:

“It’s all lies. I hate it, I’m against it, all right? […] That’s it, my career is over.”

You’d think that was enough. But after a pause, the interviewer replies:

-“Yes, but what do you really think?”

“Look, it’s all futile. We’re all nothing but specks of flesh going through this obscene dance of death for nothing. Everything is nothing.”

-“….Thank you minister.”

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sciences-humanities

‘Theologians And Other Fuzzy People’ Two 20th-Century Dutch Novelists On The Sciences And Humanities

New 3QuarksDaily-column:

For better or worse, Dutch 20th-century postwar literature comes with a canon of three authors: Gerard Reve, Harry Mulisch, and W.F. Hermans. There, you learned something today. Other than this factoid, however, this post is not going to be a lecture about the landscape of Dutch literature, or even the literary qualities of these authors. I am introducing them because I am going to use two of them, and one in particular, to illustrate a point about discourse involving the landscape of science – that is, the distinction between the sciences and humanities.

The notion of a separation between the sciences and humanities usually revolves (again, for better or worse) around C.P. Snow’s famous Rede lecture. In this lecture, Snow tentatively suggests that what he calls the ‘scientific culture’ is probably more left-wing than the ‘literary culture’, as well as more progressive (scientists “have the future in their bones”). In his time, he saw his technocratic ideals represented best by the Labour party, to which he served as scientific advisor. In the 1970s, however, Snow (as chronicled by historian Guy Ortolano)[1] would drift away from the Labour party, and express himself in increasingly negative terms about all the nonsense one had to put up with as a liberal these days. Before his death in 1980, he expressed his sympathy for neo-conservative ideas.

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Uncategorized

Stoicism In The 21st Century

New 3QD-column:

I remember the first time I thought I might be able to get on board with Stoicism. I read a passage in Aulus Gellius’ Attic Nights, about a distinguished Stoic philosopher on a ship crossing the Ionian sea. The ship finds itself in a violent storm, catches water and seems to be on the verge of being overpowered by the elements. The narrator describes how everybody is working to keep the vessel afloat, all the while lamenting their situation.

In the midst of all the chaos, he looks for the Stoic – perhaps to anchor his own courage in the idea that the truly wise are unperturbed even by this seemingly dire situation. “And then”, he remembers later, “I beheld the man frightened and ghastly pale, not indeed uttering any lamentations, as all the rest were doing, nor any outcries of that kind, but in his loss of colour and distracted expression not differing much from the others.” Whether the philosopher at least manages to make himself useful at the pumps remains unclear.

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books education

River-Crossing Riddles Through the Ages

New 3QD-column:

Have you ever been in this situation where you had to get a group of 3 men and their sisters across a river, but the boat only held two and you had to take precautions to ensure the women got across without being assaulted?

This problem is one of 53 puzzles in the oldest extant puzzle book in the Western (Latin) tradition: the Propositiones ad acuendos iuventes or problems to sharpen the young. Its authorship is uncertain but it is often and plausibly attributed to Alcuin, who possibly sent them to the Frankish ruler Charlemagne in 800 AD. I hope you will allow me a brief introduction of these puzzles, before I go on to do what I hope will by then be redundant, namely spelling out why I think you should be thrilled by their existence.

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