Literacy is Dead

Buried deep within my brother’s blog was this conversation about the function of words. I was reminded of it while reading Kevin VanHoozer’s essay “The World Well Staged” where he addresses the relationship between theology, culture and hermeneutics. He writes, “There is a growing distrust of the Word, and of words in general. The cult of nonverbal experience theratens the whole cultural inheritance of Western civilization. “To deverbalize an already depersonalized society is all the more to dehumanize it” (Carl Henry).”

VanHoozer’s claim might be a tad overstated, but I am initially inclined to accept it, in part because the quote highlights my reasons for reading: words are an intrinsic part of being a human person, and the ability to create and understand words deepens the human experience. I will preempt (hopefully!) the objection that “illiterate people/cultures” are less than human by pointing out that prior to texts, stories were transmitted orally. After texts came, they were read aloud for the people to hear. I have recently realized that few people speak in complete sentances anymore. Perhaps this is because few people ever come into contact with complete sentances.

For an excellent example of using words, check out decorabilia. It is my brother’s blog and I have found his writing engaging and intelligent all summer long.

Linda Ronstadt was ushered from The Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas yesterday and asked never to return when, during her set, she dedicated her rendition of the Eagles’ Desperado to Michael Moore and encouraged the audience to go see the film.

Moore responded to Aladdin president Bill Timmins actions saying, “What country do you live in? Last time I checked, Las Vegas is still in the United States. And in the United States, we have something called “The First Amendment.” This constitutional right gives everyone here the right to say whatever they want to say.”

The beauty of America is that we hold private property. Timmins owns the Aladdin and can do with it whatever he likes (provided it meets certain loose government requirements for safety and fair employment, etc.) It would be an evil society that forced Timmins to use a stage he built to push a political agenda he did not support. Could you imagine a world where the government mandated that anyone could do or say anything they liked in your home or business and you simply had to tolerate it? It would be unjust to take life or liberty from Ronstadt for speaking her mind, but we don’t live in a country which frees us from all the responsibility of our speech.

Maybe I don’t agree with Timmins’ decision to bar Ronstadt from ever returning, but I’m sure glad he has the liberty to make such a choice.

Hello fine Gentleman,

Matt sent me an invite today to join your exceptional online collaboration, and I’m honored to accept the offer. I hope that I can add the best of whatever I can to this virtual symposium.

In prep for my classes next semester, I picked up The City of God today and started what will have to a be a very fast read. It’s been a while since I was in Augustine so I was a bit apprehensive about how it would go, but I was pleasantly surprised with its readability and interest (at least for most parts) compared to my memory.

While reading, however, one anecdote jumped out at me, of which I had virtually no memory. The story was of Marcus Regulus, the Roman general and great man of virtue who had been captured by Carthage during, I believe, the 2nd Punic War. (Anyone else remember? It’s in Bk 1, ch 25.) The Carthaginians sent Regulus back to Rome to present a proposal to swap prisoners, including himself–but not before making him swear to return to Carthage if the proposal failed.

Regulus, however, argued and persuaded the Senate instead that it wasn’t advantageous for the Roman Republic to exchange prisoners, and then–despite the pleas of his countrymen–kept his oath and returned to Carthage where he was summarily viciously tortured to death.

Augustine’s point was to show how even the most virtuous and pious of the Romans were not protected by their gods. But what really struck me was simply the fact that I wasn’t familiar with this great story of civic duty, honor, and sacrifice.

Every schoolboy for hundreds of years was prepared for citizenship through the great examples of such men of great virtue who sacrificed for their country, who made their countries strong through their courage and devotion to duty. Rome itself–especially the old Rome of the days of the Senate–had hundreds of such men, men who up until this last century would have been familiar to any lad of twelve.

Why not anymore? Why did I have to wait till my college Roman History class to breifly hear of the example of Cincinnatus (for whom the city is named), who laid down his plow to lead Rome as dictator through a dire threat and then returned straight to his furrow? Why, when we so desperately need to be reminded of such models of patriotism, self-sacrifice, nobility, and duty, do we no longer teach our youth their stories and give them as heroes?

One of the greatest benefits of history is simply the ability to glean from the finest and most inspiring examples of mankind from the endless cache the written record has to offer. We ignore such a wealth to our own republic’s great disservice and, I might even add, danger.

But I suppose we’re lucky today when a Primary school textbook stops to mention the even the names of America’s Founding Fathers. How long can the ideals of a Republic–and the Republic itself–survive when it neglects even the heroes of its own political heritage?

In the third book of Aristotle’s Politics, he sets forth his ideal government. In order to find the best one, he informs the reader that he will exposit and reject several theories by other prominent philosophers. He begins, naturally, with Plato’s ideal city. He proceeds to tear apart the idea, arguing that it is impossible to break the family apart since it is a natural part of the whole state.

I’m not concerned with that argument, what bothers me is the very fact that Aristotle brought Plato’s city up in the first place. It’s pretty clear from the text of the Republic that Plato is interested in how the soul of an individual can become just. To clearly see how this might take place, he builds his “city in words.” Why, then, does “the master of those who know” and Plato’s student for 20 years decide to tear apart the city in words as if it were Plato’s actual vision for a city?

Three possibilities present themselves.

First, Plato actually meant to implement the kind of city that he described in the Republic and it’s not just a city in words. Aristotle spent enough time with Plato that he can be relied upon to tell the truth. In the third century A.D. Plotinus almost constructed a city based on the city in the Republic. So there is a tradition of scholars interpreting Plato literally. However, the dialogue makes much more sense in itself if Plato strictly meant to make the city figurative.

Second, Aristotle could have blatantly misinterpreted Plato. That seems unlikely because he spent so much time under Plato. Perhaps in his rebellion against the doctrine of the Forms, Aristotle ceased listening to his master, which is also unlikely.

Third, Aristotle knowingly misinterpreted the dialogue because he needed a straw man to get his book of the Politics going. This is the most likely theory in my mind because lots of poeple have interpreted Plato literally and Aristotle, knowing that, could have used it to address them. Another virtue of this theory is that it leaves the brilliance of both Plato and Aristotle fully intact, though it does make Aristotle a bit impolite.

Any thoughts?

Sorry guys, couldn’t post this in the comments string… too long.
 
Keith wrote:
“Just like you and I both can tell the difference between a French painting rightly honored by a place in a museum such as the Getty and a cheap yet artistically sound airbrush painting on the back of a Rolling Stone magazine advertising Cigarettes or Coke, so you and I can tell the difference between a Paganini orchestra (superior quality) and these four girls’ techno-heavy, beat-drenched wannabe classical music (inferior quality). I don’t know what they could do to make their music better; that would require training. I do know what Paganini could do to make his worse: Add techno beats and Ramba whistles. Agree or disagree?”
 
To which I say:
 
I agree that we both have some limited degree of taste with which we can recognize one music as brilliant and one as empty.
 
It’s the immediate aversion to all things “pop” which irritates me.  True, pop will burgeon and die in a short span while the classics will live on, but the line is not as clear as we might imagine.  I think Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and Elvis Presley will live on for a long time to come although most of their body of work is distinctly pop — then there are the musicians we now consider classics but were at the time criticized for their popular leanings (Tchiacovsky and Puccini come to mind).
 
Pop is music written to be more immediately accessible to wide audiences — generally they do this by appealling to emotions since emotion is more immediately accessible to nearly everyone.  I don’t think this is a reason to derride pop music.  True, it’s appeal to the emotions opens it up to an ugly weakness — it has a propensity to become very shallow, but that doesn’t mean all appeals to emotion are shallow.
 
“Bond” probably sucks, I’ll trust your judgement, but some pop lives on and Bob Dylan may, in the end, outlast Bach. 
  
 Don
 

On a totally unrelated note…

The Power of Imagination

We follow our own imaginations of the future. Our behavior is determined by the (imagined) consequence of this or that action. Imagination seems important.

Memory and imagination seem to be the same faculty, or closely related. Our memory of the past is the only thing of the past that still exists (not including physical artifacts). Imagine being cut off from all that you have experienced thus far. How crippled would you be? It is only the power to imagine that is keeping you from this horrible existence.

Reasoning is the faculty of the human mind that distinguishes us from lower animals. “2+2=4″, and therein lies civilization. Yet memories are so unexpressably important and they are as non-rational as dreams. How can this be?

Perhaps reasoning and imagination are two branches of the human mind, connecting at a point, drawing “nourishment” from the same source, while diverging.

Thoughts?

What are the main questions to be asked here, and whom can I invest into in order to understand imagination better?

I have been doing Real Estate Appraising lately. I have the chance to witness new housing developments that are popping up around Orange County and the surrounding areas. The development I am most interested in for today is Ladera Ranch. These houses are nice. They are like manor houses, but instead of one manor per royalty, there are 50 on each block. I’m stunned. Where do we get all this money? The money exchanging hands in Ladera ranch involves builders, designers, and home-owners, all of whom are making or spending enough cash (an average-sized 2000 sq. ft. house goes for 800,000) to fund the resurrection of third-world governments. Is it acceptable to spend so much money on our living arrangements? I do not think that there is ever excess of beauty or excellent craftsmanship; the question is of priority. Some of these men and women in Orange County have enough money to casually toss it around wherever they please. Is there not something on which they could spend it in earnest first?

http://www.cslewis.org/programs/college.html

If you haven’t already heard of and checked out the CS Lewis Foundation, do.

I was especially interested in the possibility of starting a 4-year college. See above.

It has been my habit lately of listening to NPR, National Public Radio, while producing airplane windows in a factory. While I generally mistrust the obvious liberal bias in their news reports, one story caught my attention. They ran a spot highlighting major clerics’ sermons in response to news of Sadaam Hussein’s trial. All three excerpts of sermons aired by NPR contained very violent rants by these culturally influential men.

One Shiite priest(?) declared that Sadaam deserves a brutal death. Another cleric of a different sect semi-supported Sadaam. He ended his sermon with a call to violently kick Americans out of Iraq and establish a theocracy. The third had more of the same to say.

All of this strikes me as unsurprising. What did surprise me was the matter-of-fact tone of voice the news reporter used in her comments on the event. It was more, “This is trouble for America’s plans in Iraq” and other pessimisstic comments on the new government there. Why was there no comment on the apparent sanctioning of violence of Islam? From an historical and comtemportary perspective, Islam is a religion that breeds violence and war. It is generally unconcerned with human rights and social justice. I find myself feeling relief when I hear that a Middle-Eastern country is more secular, and I have hope in Iraq’s new prime minister since he is reportedly secular. Devote Muslims are a threat to themselves, the countries around them and the western culture they hate. Let us hope that Iraq’s new government somehow stabilizes and westernizes. Let us pray that Christians find ways to influence that country for the gospel before it self-destructs.