The sometimes precarious cogs of scholarship

As I was cleaning out my office at the CSRS, an awesome place, I ran across an article in Phoenix that I had photocopied a year or so ago. The article, The Date of Augustus' Edict on the Jews (Jos. AJ 16.162-5), critiques the date attributed to this edict. Claude Eilers reveals that the date that scholars have associated with this document for at least the last fifty years is wrong. The story goes that a scholar in 1885 made note of a Roman numeral XI in the margin of the Latin manuscript. A later scholar then, without referring to the original manuscript, assumed this number must a reference to the year Augustus received Tribunician Power; she dated the document to 12 B.C., a date which gained wide acceptance. Unfortunately these numerals were one of a series that were used to denote chapters and not a date at all. Eilers argues for a date of 3 A.D., some 14 years later. Although some may be surprised that historians can be so precise and comment, "What is 14 years out of 2000?", this article highlights the need to check original references. There are many similar stories in many fields and it sometimes makes you wonder about the solidity of the bedrock of past scholarship upon which modern scholarship lies.

Changing Science?

Chris Anderson in The End of Theory proclaims that science, specifically the model which is based on hypothesis and experimentation, has been rendered unnecessary by the abundance of available data. In other words, if you want something, look it up; don't theorize. Nevertheless, science rests on thought; as a result, although answers wait amidst the petabytes, someone must ask the question. Thus, only experimentation diminishes, although data must still be manipulated. In effect, the change proposed by Chris Anderson regularly occurs. Scientists have determined that Caesar invaded Britain 4 days earlier than previously thought based on astronomical data. Similarly, though in my opinion with much less certainty, scholars have announced that Odysseus slaughtered the suitors on April 16, 1178 BC. Precise dates, such as this one, are unheard of in Homeric scholarship. The dispute over the date of the Capitoline Wolf is making the news again, although there's no data set to solve this one. Imagine the number of textbooks that will have to be changed. Scientists have also been extracting the charred Herculaneum scrolls with impressive results.

Experimentation also leads to innovation. For instance, new dyes used in glass capture and intensify the sun's rays to produce cheap and effective solar power. Some amazing news is that a breakthrough has been made on combating malaria. (Malaria "will strike up to half a billion people this year.") On an aside, Greenway's light show of the Last Supper re-invigorates the old; impressive!

Valuing the Humanities and the Arts

As a student of the humanities and an artist, I often feel the need to justify my vocation. On the way to school I regularly face a gauntlet of neighbours and family who, ignorant of my preference for late nights, remark on my late start. With every passing year, funding requires more work to for qualification and is harder to come by. Last year my choice of office was a dilapidated WWII era hut or a crowded room; I only complained once I saw the plush equivalent in engineering. Furthermore, I am not alone: Chad Gaffield, the new president of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC), now seeks to “make crystal clear the ways in which SSHRC advances knowledge and invests in human capital” to the Harper government, which can be argued is suspicious of SSHRC. So what is the value of the fine arts and humanities?

Fine art provides a way for humans to make sense of their world. It helps us grieve: just think of the powerful anthem, “like a candle in the wind,” belted out by so many at Diana’s funeral to expunge the grief from their souls. The arts provide us with a dialogue when ours has been lost. They speak the unspeakable. It is uncanny how often a song comes on the radio, a painting comes into focus, or a poetic phrase catches the ear which expresses the deep groaning that is even incomprehensible to us. Karen Armstrong, speaking of poetry, phrases it this way: “Poetry matters, among many other reasons, because it is by its nature revelatory, surprising, and liberating. It re-connects us with the familiar world we mistakenly think we know while offering glimpses of the mysterious and untranslatable worlds we know we don’t know” (Tapestry October 30, 2007).

It is pure wonderment how words find their way on to a page or into a melody. I love how Gwen Stefani describes the process: “Sometimes it's so hard to find out what I am trying to say. People might think you can turn creativity on and off, but it's not like that. It just kind of comes out, a mash-up of all these things you collect in your mind. You never know when it is going to happen, but when it does it is like magic. It's just that simple and it's just that hard.” Nevertheless, the artwork seems to take on a life of its own when released into the world. Alberto Manguel states, “Under certain conditions, stories can assist us. Sometimes they can heal us, illuminate us, and show us the way. Above all they can remind us of our condition, break through the superficial appearance of things, and make us aware of the underlying currents and depths. Stories can feed our consciousness, … .” (The City of Words, 9-10).

So art matters, it's inherently precious, even magical, but what value does it have? Ironically, although art helps us process the overpowering and speak out our inmost thoughts, the personal experience rarely has currency; namely, the cathartic love, anger, drama, and sadness soon fades when related to another. I can’t number the times I’ve tried to recapture a mood and failed; I always want to ask, “Didn’t that piece touch you, pamper you, and grant mercy to you?” Even when art is experienced together, each individual comes away with unique impression, never mind other factors that influence experience, such as trends and critics’ opinions. Art is enigmatic: personal yet communal and elusive yet accessible.

Art’s value is more than personal betterment and access to the sublime. Art speaks to us about the human condition: how and why people act as they do, what people experience and how they express this experience, or what causes humans to tick. The humanities are disciplines that examine multiple forms of art in their historical context and the context of other pieces of art to answer these questions; scholars revive, restore, preserve, and interpret artwork. Provided there’s not too much ivory-tower jargon, these scholars can disseminate the understanding on the human condition. They can accomplish this in oblique ways, such as The Lord of the Rings and Narnia series. This field also includes philosophy and history; scholars from Berlin to Ignatieff have disseminated insightful perspectives on their current worlds. Understanding the past and the cultures of the past does provide a lesson we can learn from.

Yet, despite the valuation of master artworks, record deals and box office profits, how can art and its study be valued in dollar terms.?It can’t. Although today's market-place has no way to value the abstract or intrinsic (the environment is a good example), some dollar term needs to be assigned to them. They need to appear in the budget since their value can no longer be assumed in today’s reductionist climate. Sure any value is ambiguous, but funding needs to continue. How can one value the work of authors, such as Günter Grass (despite his role in the Waffen-SS), have had a deep impact on their country’s ability to process trauma and heal; in Crabwalk, he states, “History, or, to be more precise, the history we Germans have repeatedly mucked up, is a clogged toilet. We flush and flush, but the shit keeps rising. … By now, after all, we Germans have come up with expressions to help us deal with the past: we are to atone for it, come to terms with it, go through a grieving process” (122). How about those who bring understanding of the plight of others, e.g., K'naan, or understanding among cultures, e.g., Solzhenitsyn? The media just brings new information, facts and figures, and no way to process them. As Louis Riel stated, the artists would be the ones who gave the people (Métis) back their spirit once they’d been asleep for one hundred years. Don't they do the same for us now?

Munching lotus

Today I feel like time has really passed me by. I started reading Buxton's Imaginary Greece from 1994 and can't believe I'd missed it. I haven't been smacked this hard by an academic book since Brendel's Prolegomena. His clarity is compelling, e.g., "In spite of (or because) of the fashionableness and obvious fertility of the topic [Greek myth] ... there is a residual feeling that to treat mythology as a distinct area of study ... is a gambit bound up with Theory, Methodology and The Continent, and is thus not quite sound." I also appreciate his honesty, e.g.,"I hope, in short, that the present book will reach the wider audience too. To that end I have tried to cut down the jargon with which scholars like to armour-plate themselves" (see Nimis' serious yet entertaining article on the use of footnotes for this purpose).

I really enjoy Stumble Upon and the concept behind it. Bumbling along I've found so much richness. Late last year, I found Rumi. Wow! 2007 was designated the International Year of Rumi by UNESCO and in commemoration of this event Coleman Barks wrote Rumi: Bridge to the Soul. This book has wonderful translations of 99 poems and an excellent introduction. My favourite line in the book is from Saladin's Leaving: "Like the moon you turn a grainfield silver."

I also found Californication. I can relate so well to Hank. I could be that character, sincerely stumbling along in the journey of manhood, though I haven't published a book, don't own a Porsche, and definitely don't have women throwing their phone numbers into my car. Oh the fragile artist. Damn those expectations. The journey can be very hard. Nevertheless, it's all worth it. You get the feeling and the vibe. You carve out a place of acceptance. Of all those people who claim to know you, only a handful ever does. The only question is whether you count yourself among them.

The show is also an introduction, for me at least, to many cool covers of songs, e.g., Rocket Man by My Morning Jacket and Paranoid by Gus Black.

Identity and Culture (Finding myself through it)

Identity has always come hard for me. My childhood was a collection of moves: born in Canada, moved to California, then Indonesia, then back to California, then Saudi Arabia, then Italy, then Canada. A circuitous route, for sure. What made it more disparate were the visits every six months outside of these locales. So, after a spring in Saudi, I'd go for the summer to Scotland. Then there were the moves within these countries: from the busy streets of Riyadh to an isolated compound with rich fields for the seeds of an over-developed imagination. Marshall Sella, speaking of Viggo Mortensen put it this way, "... it has made him a little foreign everywhere, and everywhere at home" (GQ September 2007, 273). When I read this quote, it struck me, as I've always felt at home everywhere, but upon reflection often felt like an outsider.

In the popular media of recent months I've noticed some similar experiences. Sandra Oh states, "No matter how much you fit in, you're the outsider, and you only realize much later how deeply the assimilation affects you. You always feel like you miss out just a little bit. You are just not the same" (Onstad, K. "Oh la la," Chatelaine November 2007, 120). Wyclef Jean states, "I feel that I am part of the American Dream but I feel that for you to have the American Dream you need to have that immigrant background, meaning that at the end of the day we all are immigrants so we should still be treated with respect" (The Hour, October 30, 2007). Perhaps, the most extreme case of cultural dislocation is that of the American soldier in Iraq, who in the course of 48 hours moves from the front-lines to the couch at home; he then returns after a two week visit, a trip that includes moving through various paradigms, e.g., camaraderie vs. family integration, friend/foe vs. loved ones, alertness vs. relaxation, and duty vs. expectation.

My identity has been shaped by various factors over the years and has taken the form of many personal narratives, e.g., the traveler, the student, the independent. However, the obscure nature of Canadian identity has hampered my journey, i.e., establishing what is uniquely Canadian is a difficult task. Thus, my journey has included establishing what being a Canadian is. I have done so by learning the history, listening to its great musicians, reading its literature, and talking with many of its citizens. Nevertheless one can only do so much, but I have noticed a few things. First, many are looking for definition. It is a frequent topic that has spurned many debates and Molson TV commercials. Second, regional variation has muddled the issue. I once entertained one way of commenting on this diversity, as well as obtaining my 15 minutes of fame, but the threat of jail-time dissuaded me: during an election in rural B.C., I would post election signs for a fake candidate that was running for the Parti Québécois. The reactions would not have been pretty.

In the last ten years on the west coast (I can only comment from this perspective, though I live vicariously in the east coast through the music of Stan Rogers), native art has become a significant expression of our culture. It has dominated all new public buildings and I can't complain, e.g., Bill Reid's Jade Canoe is amazing. Nevertheless, I wonder what it is replacing. What would be the Olympic symbol if this weren't the trend? A lumberjack, a miner? Yes, pre-90's the west coast was defined by its dependence on natural resources. For some reason the Pacific Rim connection never took a firm hold on the coast despite a number of sister cities and Japanese immersion programs. Then came the wave of First Nation's art. At first I found this choice ironic, since there have been so very few treaties negotiated (Tsawwassen this year was only the second). Then, I realized that this art grounded us. It is an art that transcends the lumberjacks and real estate developers from Hong Kong; furthermore, by transcending the modern, it complements, rather than clashes with, the rich cultural diversity of the west coast. Its modern interpretation provides the sophistication needed for cultural cache in larger cities. Lastly, the art was authentic: it was part of a flourishing prompted by the return of many First Nations to their roots.

Among First Nations is one place that I have always belonged in Canada, though my white skin obviously betrays me as an outsider. Learning the history of the land has grounded me and provided meaning for me. Certain sites and landscapes take on new meaning for me as I learn the place name and its meaning in the original language. This experience has also made me more Canadian: I can't tell you the number of times I passed by the Quw'utsun' Cultural Centre, but this summer I finally visited it and was really impressed. The dancers, carvers and interpretive guides provided a rich experience among amazing displays and relics that was topped off by an amazing meal at the Riverwalk Cafe (the Bistro at Cherry Point also owned by the Cowichan Tribes is very good also).

Another source of richness in my Canadian education has been the CBC, especially radio: Peter Gzowski put me in touch with the personal, quirky and interesting; Michael Enwright with the sophisticated; Stuart McLean with the funny, but more so with a rich appreciation through his poetic descriptions of Canada; and Sheila Rogers with diverse, but everyday Canadians and issues. Then there's As It Happens that uniquely Canadian show and thanks to them I listen to Alan Maitland read The Shepherd every Christmas.

In the end the diverse nature of Canada does not make it indefinable, rather it's part and parcel to the process. Culture, though diverse, does provide the social norms by which Canadians can define themselves.

Ancient Wisdom

This term I have been translating quite a bit of Latin. Through this process, there are times when I feel like I am being injected with regular doses of poison (I have no idea what disease the chemo is for, maybe notenoughlatinus) and times when I am totally undone by the poetry's beauty. At other times, I am struck by how appropriate the subject matter is for today. I could easily satirize our nation in the same way as Horace (1.1.61-64):

At bona pars hominum, decepta cupidine falso,
'Nil satis est,' inquit, 'quia tanti quantum habeas sis.'
Quid facias illi? Iubeas miserum esse, libenter
quatenus is facit;

But the good part of mankind, deceived by false desire,
'Nothing is enough,' they would say, 'because you are of such worth as you have'
What do you do for such a man? You order him to be wretched, since
he does it willingly.

The Battle Within

A good friend of mine and pastor, Hans, wrote about Stanley Hauerwas in his blog. It is really cool because Hauerwas' views on pacifism completely echoed my last blog entry. Colman McCarthy quotes, "I say I'm a pacifist because I'm a violent son of a bitch. I'm a Texan." This very blunt statement shows that for him the battle is within. This is the case for me and the case, I believe, in general. Check out the Raskolnikov-effect given in my last post. Earlier he is quoted, "I would not be a pacifist if I were not a Christian, and I find it hard to understand how one can be a Christian without being a pacifist." This is remarkable again given the question on Israel in my last post for so many Christians are staunch Zionists.

A cool juxtoposition has taken place in my studies. I am translating (I'm hoping to be reading at some point) parts of the Iliad and all the Trojan Women by Euripides and parts of the Aenid. What is cool is that the Iliad deals with the war, the Trojan Women with the fallout and the Aenid with the founding of a new city once the baggage of the old is dealt with. In class we watched the Cacoyannis film (the soundtrack and filming is excellent by the way) The Trojan Women. Oh! the horrors of war. Check out this quote from the play:

"I do not commend the fear of one who fears but never yet has reasoned out the cause."

Astyanax, the child of Hector, had just been killed because Odysseus reasoned that one day he may be a threat to the Greeks. Check out how it lines up with Hauerwas says, "[I] recalled that Bush, after urging Americans to go shopping, immediately proclaimed, "We are at war." Hauerwas explained that peculiar juxtaposition this way: "We are frightened, and ironically war makes us feel safe. The way to go on in the face of 9/11 is to find someone to kill. Americans are, moreover, good at killing. We often fail to acknowledge how accomplished we are in the art of killing. We now conduct war in a manner that only the enemy has to die." This is exactly what Euripides was struggling with. The Athenians were adept at war and went campaigning every summer. Also, it is possible that the play was a response to the Athenian's slaughter of an entire city, very similar to Troy's situation. The point, though, is that Euripides definitely took his minerals, in other words, he had balls because he was sponsored by the state and still produced this play (a much harsher critique than Michael Moore's work). As my professor stated, "this play today could easily be set in Iraq, Afghanistan or Darfur".

Emptiness

Today I felt at a loss with no scores to check and no matches to follow. What will I do after the final? I did a bit of organizing today and guess I will do some more catching up. I read a clip my mom had cut out from a newspaper during her recent trip to Scotland about a rare postcard that was found under the lining paper of a drawer. The postcard was dated 1883 and addressed to barristers in Victoria; the cool thing is that the address is the two block street where I work. I work in a heritage building, one of about three on the short street, so it may have been sent to my building all those years ago. Cool!

Nothing

Nihilism, to me, is much easier to embrace if you don't have children : the hope for the future. Children have been and will continue to be a constant reality on this planet. Many different events float upon the winds of time, but the hope for something better and different, present in a new-born, will remain. Also, M. Scott Peck surmised that it is difficult to understand the human condition without having children. Pets are no replacement in this aspect, as they do not naturally outlive humans or carry-on any genes or heritage. Children are more selfish than most parents, so they force (condition over time) the parents not to be selfish. These aspects of parenthood typify unselfishness, which also looks forward in time. Nihilism is intrinsically selfish as it concerns the present, specifically the view-holder's own present and ignores both ancestors and the hope for the future.

Something:
When my wife and I visited Taliesin West we were rejuvenated after the tour, contrary to our expectations. All the walking in the heat would have dictated tiredness had it not been for the incredible design of the place. I was puzzled as to what exactly created this energy until I read the following account by Val Cox in vol. 13.4 of the Frank Lloyd Wright Quarterly:

“I realized that just by walking through the buildings at Taliesin and Taliesin West, you’re receiving something all the time. I know everyone feels that. It takes place in the texture and colour and interplay of the forms. It’s almost like a thousand magnetic fields that you’re passing through. And each time you pass through, just walking through the pergola or whatever, you’re absorbing something. And you don’t know what it is and you couldn’t put it into words. But as your life goes on, it starts to flow back out in a way that’s not arbitrary, or as a result of analyzing and coming to conclusions. As Mrs. Wright always said, ‘It’s in the marrow of the bones.’ And it just radiates from you.”

Guest Friendship

The tradition of guest friendship extends far back in time. For instance, read Genesis 18:1-15, Judges 19:16-30 and various instances in the Odyssey, e.g. the famous, Nausikaa passage. I have witnessed this practice in many parts of the world and always feel somewhat unsettled when I am greeted so warmly and favoured so much by people that are truly strangers. I think I do not feel entirely comfortable in these situations because the situation does not make sense in a "typical" North American framework. In most of the urban centres of North America one does not usually welcome and entertain a stranger who is passing through town. This may be due to many things, including distrust and the often used situation in Hollywood movies to set up a murder or similar crime. Also, the culture in North America tends to dictate that you need to deserve something to receive it. While this mentality is a strong basis for a strong work ethic, it doesn't necessarily lead you to be generous or receive unwarranted generousity. Why, in some cultures and communities, am I favoured for being a stranger? I think that this preference is due to survival and is more present in cultures that live in harsh environments. Thus, survival depends on sharing. Who knows when you yourself will be stranded in a desert or tundra without a hope? Fun-loving cultures also have a unique way of welcoming you in celebration. Lastly, in my experience in North America it is the minorities (immigrants and aboriginals) that are most proficient in extending generousity to strangers. This experience is ironic as many attempt to marginalize them or state that they only take; when, in fact, it is they that give.

Defying Nature

The desert in Phoenix does not resemble that of Jordan much; while Phoenix abounds in plant-life, Jordan does not. The blooms that these plants create in mid-to-late April seem to especially contrast the hard-pan found in Jordan. While there, though, I could not escape the parallels brought by my recollection of a large pool in Humayma. At first thought, this pool in the middle of a very dry desert appears to be a cistern. Upon further reflection this supposition seems unlikely because there is no evidence what-so-ever of a roof to minimize evaporation. In addition, all the other cisterns on the site were covered. Nearby Petra has similar remains of a large pool. The most likely theory put forth is that these pools were for recreational purposes alone. A further supposition is that they were built to display the ruler's ability to thwart nature. In Phoenix a similar attitude prevails. There is no visible water conservation. Since I live in a rain-forest and I am limited in how frequently I can water my lawn, I can only suppose that Phoenix does not limit lawn-watering to display man's advantage over nature. Open canals and a number of man-made lakes and rivers seem to strengthen this point. The lack of low-flush toilets and water-saving shower heads also emphasize this point. Conservation in any way was lacking in Phoenix, from recycling to the widespread use of HUMVEEs (the only hybrids are the buses). Although Phoenix may be an oasis in the desert, it cannot be one responsibly for so many people. I hope by my next visit that my hotel won't change the sheets, soap and towels against my wishes (my wife left a note not to do so) and that I find more than two recycle bins in my travels.