Austin Hall Library

Being Ugly Can Lead to Death--If the Ugliness is Found in a City

What is with all the ugly and inhumane urban architecture? It has been around for a while--at least since the policies of the Johnson administration, which in the name of urban "renewal," created urban jungles on a scale previously unparalleled (at least in a time of peace). Few people in the twentieth century seemed to notice the connection between soulless urban planning and riotous boredom, with former Governor of Michigan, George Romney, being a possible exception. In his last address as governor, he declared that the Detroit riots were provoked by "urban renewal and federal highway building." There is more to bad behavior than an ugly apartment and sidewalk, but Romney had a point. There is an architecture of hopeless servitude and boredom. As Russell Kirk said, "One is a good deal safer in Palermo, or Tunis, or Fez, than in New York, or Chicago, or Los Angeles."

Arguably, the book that first began to highlight the failed experiment of modern urban planning is Jane Jacobs' The Death and Life of Great American Cities. Published originally in 1961, the 1993 Modern Library edition is available in hardback for a good price. This is known as a "common-sense" approach to analyzing urban planning, and it is a fascinating read for anyone interested in urban planning, social policies, or an analysis of culture. Jacobs likely did not intend to, but, in my opinion, she vindicated conservative principles and personalism in urban planning.

Whatever the difficulties of ancient towns like Palermo, Tunis, and Fez (and there are some), they  remain genuine communities, in which the residents remain persons, not faceless automatons lost in a crowd. A city is not simply a collectivity; it is a vital continuity with real individual persons, neighborhoods, voluntary associations, old landmarks, historic monuments--the kinds of elements that make persons feel at home. Communities nurture roots, rather than destroying them. They restore and rehabilitate, rather than reconstitute. And, communities focus on the common good, rather than commercial gain. "Urban renewal," conceived by the Johnson administration, rather than being a "war on poverty," was actually a war on the poor, for the benefit of the speculator and the contractor.

But, there are encouraging signs these days. Beginning several years ago in larger cities, the positive signs are spreading to smaller cities and I see them in many places around the country as I travel. In fact, when travel takes me away from home, I look for these areas and take notes for return trips. Neighborhood revitalization projects are rising up, characterized by numerous vibrant and walkable destinations to attractive and peaceful outdoor gathering places, shops, bookstores, restaurants, and coffeehouses. In some cases, cities are even trying to create such person-centered communities where they never existed, down to reproduction architecture. 

If the city fathers do not understand culture and are not careful, however, the reproduction approach may go too far. Civic and cultural restoration must be rooted in long-established customs, habits, and political institutions of a community. No city planner can make people happy through social innovation. It would be imprudent to draw the conclusion that good urban planning was about getting rid of ugly buildings alone.

Just a Guitar Away From Eternity

I just have to say it. Some things just seem to go too far--especially in church. It is axiomatic that one should not be confused when entering a Christian religious service about whether to enter into prayer or roll a joint and sway with the music. When will we learn that certain actions are more evocative of the latter than the former?

Who knows how Christianity in America has come to its present state--jeans, Hawaiian shirts, spiked hair--and that's the ministers. Places of corporate worship are now often called "worship malls" and "family life centers", and they contain within them "main streets" coffee kiosks, and "food courts." And so often what happens in and around these churches is a source of confusion for the faithful.

I recently ran across the following post in an online blog, the name of which I cannot recall:

"A group of Lutheran contemporary worship leaders was left angry and frustrated by the realization that Lutheran Carnival X is not a literal carnival. The worship leaders had spent much of last week canvassing neighborhoods for unchurched children, handing out fliers that promised games, animals, and even a 'Jesus Freak Show' in an upcoming worship service. Their enthusiasm turned to disappointment and hostility when they learned that the term 'carnival' is simply used to describe a collection of blog posts on a particular subject. 'I've got 200 kids expecting to see a bearded virgin next Sunday,' complained Jerry Cromer, worship leader at Cirque de Life in La Jolla, California. 'What are we going to talk about when they show up? Jesus?'"

Unfortunately, such confusion is not limited to Lutherans. There is a common tendency these days to  confuse historic Christian faith with wish-fulfillment or positive self-help group meetings. But, feeling happy, warm, and cozy is not necessarily indicative of spiritual progression. Warm feelings of contentment and light-heartedness can be arrived at by contemplating a sunset, walking on the beach, drinking a twelve-year-old single malt scotch, or, I am told, by smoking a joint and listening to Bob Dylan. But these momentary senses of being one with the universe tend to fade, leaving one where they started, or sometimes much further back.

Occasionally, there is a voice of sanity out there. But, like prophets, such people aren't all that popular, especially in their own circles. Alice Thomas Ellis (her pen name) is one such  clear-thinking writer. She was an accomplished novelist, but her short essays are a great place to start getting to know her thoughts. For an introduction to her views concerning the modern tendency to popularize historic Christian worship and other ideas, read her two short works Cat Among Pigeons and God Has Not Changed.

Miserere Mei, Deus

Miserere mei, Deus ("Have mercy on me, O God") are the opening words of Psalm 51 and have led to it being traditionally referred to as the Miserere, which is the name it is often known by in musical settings. This 17th century version by composer Gregorio Allegri is one of the best-known settings of the Miserere. Listen to the solo when the Soprano hits the C above the staff. It is one of the most hauntingly moving moments in choral music.

Today begins the Triduum (the three days from the evening of Holy Thursday to the evening of Easter Sunday) of Holy Week. It is a time of prayer and deep devotion, and there is no better musical piece than the Miserere to preface the three days that changed the world.    

The "Culture Wars" Began in the Middle Ages

If one enjoys reading intellectual history, Richard E. Rubenstein's Aristotle's Children is a book not to miss. Following an introduction to Plato and Aristotle, and a discussion of the collapse of the Roman Empire in the West, Rubenstein shifts his focus to the mid-twelfth century, when a group of Muslim, Jewish, and Christian scholars working together began translating Aristotle's rediscovered works. The dissemination of those translations sent shock waves through Europe and eventually led to Thomas Aquinas's great life work of reconciling faith and reason. It is a rich book and well worth the read.

Of particular interest, however, is chapter seven, "'Ockham's Razor': The Divorce of Faith and Reason". Rubenstein does a good job of showing that with the work of Duns Scotus and William of Ockham, the Aristotelian revolution took a radically new turn. In fact, their work, and particularly that of William of Ockham, severed the link postulated by Thomas Aquinas between our mind's and God's. Moreover, this radical turn would eventually cut loose natural science, social thought, and all other branches of philosophy from their Christian moorings, and de-intellectualize the Christian faith. In short, the separation between faith and reason, and the drift of Western Civilization did not begin with the Renaissance, but with the work of Duns Scotus and William of Ockham in the late Middle Ages.

And to this day the influence of these two men and their followers can be seen in (among many places)  the so-called culture wars. They may be seen in the potentially destructive idea that one party's views are purely rational and scientific, while the other's rest on pure religious faith. Such claims and views eliminate any possibility of dialogue because, according to modern conceptions that began with Duns Scotus and William of Ockham, rationality relies on reason and objective evidence, while faith is validated, if at all, by non-rational means entirely.

Property: The Material Condition of Freedom

“The choice lies between property on the one hand and slavery, public or private, on the other. There is no third issue.” (Hilaire Belloc)

Be satisfied with what you have. Own enough of the means of production to support yourself. Get out of debt. Own your own property. Be free. These are things Hilaire Belloc likely would have affirmed (more on Belloc here).

A staunch critic of the early twentieth century spirit of reform known as progressivism, Belloc did not believe that the latest point in time is the highest and best point in time, and that all has been tending toward this, our moment. This was the general idea of progressivism and has essentially been the implicit assumption of our times. In such a world, the drama of contingency, personal responsibility, and human choice are removed. Evil is not a permanent force in the world, and human nature does not remain the same in all times. Rather, as Clyde Wilson notes, "enlightened policies and proper education will eradicate evils and mould the plastic human world into proper shape."

In The Servile State, Belloc challenges progressivism (as he did in virtually all his writings) and promotes  the idea of "distributivism." Belloc was of the opinion that the current progressivist/capitalist society was likely to give way to something new--the servile state. He defines this state as, "That arrangement of society in which so considerable a number of the families and individuals are constrained by positive law to labor for the advantage of other families and individuals as to stamp the whole community with the mark of such labor we call the servile state." Belloc prefers for society to return to a distributivist system in which all individuals own property and the means of production. His ideas (and those of G.K. Chesterton and others) found traction with the American Agrarians. 

A Timely Quote

Charles Pe'guy wrote:

"There has never been an age in which money was to such a degree the only master and god. And never have the rich been so protected against the poor and the poor so unprotected against the rich. . . . And never has the temporal been so protected against the spiritual; and never has the spiritual been so unprotected against the temporal."

Pe'guy was a little known French poet who died in battle in World War I. I collected a few of his works at the suggestion of an extremely well-read friend in Virginia. I cannot say that I am a fan, but it appears that T.S. Eliot was, who praised him as "one of the most illustrious of the dead who have fallen in this war." Eliot also noted that Pe'guy was "a remarkable example of a writer who managed to influence many people, largely because he had so confused a mind that there was room for everything in it somehow."

Filled with intensity and spiritual seriousness, Pe'guy's works are not readily available in English. But, Liberty Fund has republished Temporal and Eternal, which contains adapted versions of two long essays by Pe'guy first published in English in 1958.

In addition to the one above, the following is one of my favorite quotes by Pe'guy, found in the 1905 essay "Notre Patrie" ("Our Fatherland" in French): "It will never be known what acts of cowardice have been motivated by the fear of not looking sufficiently progressive."

For Prospective Opera Fans

I stumbled upon a jewel late last fall in the back corner of a local antique shop--David Ewen's 1955 edition of Encyclopedia of the Opera. Now available only on the secondary market, it is worth acquiring for one's library even if one has little appreciation for opera. I admit to a very inconsistent and uneducated appreciation. There is much I enjoy but there are some operas that remind me of fingernails on a blackboard.

Ewen's Encyclopedia is an inexpensive education on just about everything a novice would want to know about the opera. It is written in the traditional encyclopedic format, i.e., in alphabetical order. There are 25,000 entries including the stories of over 500 operas and discussions of some 650 of the most memorable arias, duets, and choruses. It also has definitions of the technical terms associated with opera, and even defines and explains the various types of opera.

For a highly readable and humorous introduction to the history of opera, add David W. Barber's, When the Fat Lady Sings: Opera History as it Ought to be Taught. Funny and easy to read, it is particularly good if you are not a natural opera lover but want to know something more about the subject. I don't know if opera history ought to be taught this way or not, but it would sure make it more interesting.

When Culture Becomes a Burlesque

Saul Bellow said, “People can lose their lives in libraries. They ought to be warned.”

It may be that one can spend too much time in libraries and books, but I am not sure. Considering the alternative ways of using one’s time these days, losing my life in a library does not immediately strike me as unattractive.

Neil Postman, in his Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, abruptly introduced me in the late 80s to the idea that “. . . the media of communication available to a culture are a dominant influence on the formation of the culture’s intellectual and social preoccupations.” I have since then watched with growing dismay the formation of the intellectual life of our modern culture by taking note of the popular media.

Postman noted that American public discourse was increasingly taking the form of entertainment. Our politics, religion, news, athletics, education and commerce have been transformed into congenial adjuncts of show business, largely without protest or even much popular notice. The result is that we are a people on the verge of "amusing ourselves to death."

This has had a profound and embarrassing impact on education. There was a time when attending school meant learning to read, for without that ability, one could not participate in the culture's conversations. Today, if one does not spend countless hours watching Fox News, ESPN, the latest sitcoms, and MTV, one often cannot participate in the culture's conversations.

A shallow mind and hollow soul are not the only negative results of this affinity for amusing ourselves to death. The characteristics we formally associated with mature discourse: an ability to think conceptually, deductively and sequentially; a high estimation of reason and order; an aversion to contradiction; a capacity for objectivity; and the ability to organize coherent thoughts into articulate and complex sentences are virtually gone.

Postman asserted that there are two ways the spirit of a culture may be shriveled. "In the first—the Orwellian—culture becomes a prison. In the second—the Huxleyan—culture becomes a burlesque.” While  certain world cultures may be Orwellian, our own certainly tends toward Huxleyan. In the words of Postman, "What Huxley teaches is that in the age of advanced technology, spiritual devastation is more likely to come from an enemy with a smiling face than from one whose countenance exudes suspicion and hate. In the Huxleyan prophecy, Big Brother does not watch us, by his choice. We watch him, by ours. There is no need for wardens or gates or Ministries of Truth. When a population becomes distracted by trivia, when cultural life is redefined as a perpetual round of entertainments, when serious public conversation becomes a form of baby-talk, when, in short, a people become an audience and their public business a vaudeville act, then a nation finds itself at risk; culture-death is a clear possibility."

I believe Neil Postman was a modern prophet. That's one of the reasons I read books. I do not want to die (figuratively or literally) being entertained by Fox News. I would rather lose my life in a library, preferably my own.

That is not the only reason I read. I read to be educated, to defragment the files of my cluttered mind, to be inspired, and to try, as best I can, to learn how I might contribute in some small way to lifting our culture out of the Huxleyan mire.

Emily Dickinson, in her poem titled, "A Book," aptly wrote:

“He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings was but a book. What liberty A loosened spirit brings!”

It's About Me

I picked up a copy of Christopher Lasch's perceptive book The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations at a used bookstore not long ago. Published initially in 1979, I should have come upon it much earlier but for some reason I had not. Lasch's book provides a a penetrating analysis of a growing problem in modern American culture—intense self-absorption.

Consider this brief comment: “The contemporary climate is therapeutic, not religious. People today hunger not for personal salvation, let alone for the restoration of an earlier golden age, but for the feeling, the momentary illusion of personal well-being, health, and psychic security.” Lasch goes on to say that today radical politics fill empty lives and provide a sense of meaning and purpose.

Some of the commentary is a bit dated and the book doesn’t make my list of critical or priority reads,  but for a raw and insightful analysis of a sober problem in modern culture, it is very good. While the book’s solid Freudian foundation is often distracting and occasionally silly, the social analysis is thoughtful and provocative. The subject matter itself is vital because it is necessary to understand the dominant influences upon the modern American mind before one can engage in meaningful dialogue toward renewal.