"Just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else." --Toni Morrison
Adultery Still Legal in Turkey
Always nice when a political party peers over a cliff, sees disaster, and decides not to jump.
Alan Wolfe on Tariq Ramadan; and a petition
Alan Wolfe is a professor at Boston College -- a centrist liberal whose politics might be described as something like "Democrats Wake Up!" Though he has at times been accused of wishy-washiness, I was happy to see him take a stand against the revocation of Tariq Ramadan's visa.
His editorial in the September 10, 2004 Chronicle is currently for subscribers only, but let me offer a couple of key quotes. First, Wolfe makes it clear that he isn't necessarily convinced by Ramadan's political arguments, and sees his approach to Islamic Ijtihad as more complex than simple progressivism. And Wolfe also takes issue with the article on French Jewish intellectuals Ramadan published in Oumma (linked in my previous post on Ramadan). Here is Wolfe on why Ramadan should be admitted despite his own ambivalence over the his (Ramadan's) views:
And here is Wolfe's summary of Ramadan's perspective on bringing reform to Islam:
This summary leaves me a little less than fully enthusiastic about Ramadan's ideas. In my view, the urgent need today is for protection against overbearing religious institutions and religio-political authority -- not clarification of what those institutions are.
But are his ideas really the issue in the revocation of his visa? No one really knows. Most people seem to be convinced that it has more to do with his lineage than his radical views.
More pieces by Alan Wolfe
This review of Samuel Huntington's book Who Are We? takes issue with Huntington's anti-immigrant stance. He is convincing in his questioning of Huntington's reliance on the myth of a founding "Anglo-Protestant" culture.
He's also got an interesting piece on the 'free' part of The Chronicle, where he takes issue with left-leaning humanities academia's obsession with the Nazi sympathizing philosopher Carl Schmitt.
And here is Michael Berube's criticism of Wolfe from a piece on his blog; scroll down. (Thanks to Michael for the tip on the piece in The Chronicle.)
After considering it for awhile, I've decided the decision to sign this petition on behalf of Tariq Ramadan.
His editorial in the September 10, 2004 Chronicle is currently for subscribers only, but let me offer a couple of key quotes. First, Wolfe makes it clear that he isn't necessarily convinced by Ramadan's political arguments, and sees his approach to Islamic Ijtihad as more complex than simple progressivism. And Wolfe also takes issue with the article on French Jewish intellectuals Ramadan published in Oumma (linked in my previous post on Ramadan). Here is Wolfe on why Ramadan should be admitted despite his own ambivalence over the his (Ramadan's) views:
Ramadan may speak out of both sides of his mouth, but he U.S. government speaks out of only one -- the intolerant side. While Ramadan calls for multiple interpretations of the Koran, the Bush administration acts as if there is only one way to read Ramadan. Confronting Islamic fundamentalism with a Western version of the same thing hardly seems like the appropriate way to deal with a post-September 11 world. By denying Ramadan his visa, we have sent a message to the Muslim world that, for all our talk of bringing freedom there, we fear it here.
And here is Wolfe's summary of Ramadan's perspective on bringing reform to Islam:
Throughout much of its history, Islam has made a distinction between Dar al-Islam, a society in which Muslims are a majority and subject to Islamic law, and Dar al-Harb, the outside world about which Muslims must continuously be wary. Now that so many Muslims live in Europe and North America, it is time for them to recognize that Islam can flourish in the absence of an Islamic majority, Ramadan argues in Western Muslims and the Future of Islam (OUP: 2004). Muslims in the West must engage ijtihad, he says, defining it as a 'constant dynamic of adaptation in response to the time and the context.' While doing so, they should also strive to become full citizens of the countries in which they live, accepting their laws and participating in their political systems.
Ramadan's work defies religious and political labels. Although he has often been described as the Muslim Martin Luther, he never attacks Islam the way Luther attacked the papacy. He believes that many of the problems Westerners associate with Islam--a propensity toward violence, unfair treatment of women--are ethnic, not religious; get rid of the cultural practices associated with tribal and backward societies, and you will find Islam in its pure form. That side of Ramadan's work complicates the notion, frequently heard in the debates surrounding his ideas, that he is a 'moderate' or a 'modernizer.' Read one way, he seems to be a progressive critic of repressive regimes like the one in Saudi Arabia. Read another, he is defending the orthodox idea that there are not many Islams but only one, thereby questioning whether "so called sociological or cultural Muslims," as he characterizes those of a live-and-let-live disposition, are really legitimate believers.
This summary leaves me a little less than fully enthusiastic about Ramadan's ideas. In my view, the urgent need today is for protection against overbearing religious institutions and religio-political authority -- not clarification of what those institutions are.
But are his ideas really the issue in the revocation of his visa? No one really knows. Most people seem to be convinced that it has more to do with his lineage than his radical views.
More pieces by Alan Wolfe
This review of Samuel Huntington's book Who Are We? takes issue with Huntington's anti-immigrant stance. He is convincing in his questioning of Huntington's reliance on the myth of a founding "Anglo-Protestant" culture.
He's also got an interesting piece on the 'free' part of The Chronicle, where he takes issue with left-leaning humanities academia's obsession with the Nazi sympathizing philosopher Carl Schmitt.
And here is Michael Berube's criticism of Wolfe from a piece on his blog; scroll down. (Thanks to Michael for the tip on the piece in The Chronicle.)
After considering it for awhile, I've decided the decision to sign this petition on behalf of Tariq Ramadan.
Laicite to Sikhs: stay home, Monsieurs
Well, after all the speculation and questions (will they really do it? will there be an exception?), it looks like they're not letting them in. Outlook reports that French schools are, under the order of the new ban, ejecting Sikh students.
Oh well, cancel that flight to Paris. I hear Italy is nice, though.
Oh well, cancel that flight to Paris. I hear Italy is nice, though.
National Anthem Throwdown: Jana Gana Mana vs. Bande Mataram
A really informative piece by Pradip Kumar Datta has just been posted on SACW, on the history of India's national anthem. The current anthem is Rabindranath Tagore's "Jana Gana Mana." (See the entry at Wikipedia for the text and translation of the song)
The Hindu right has been casting aspersions on it recently (Datta cites Sadhvi Rithambara's "hate cassette" as well as websites like www.freeindia.org). The reason: it was composed by Tagore on the occasion of King George V's visit to the Indian National Congress in 1911. Tagore was famously ambivalent about the commission, and wrote the song as he did as an act -- he thought -- of subversion. But I suppose it's also possible to say that the song, written to celebrate the visit of the English king, loses some autonomy through that history. Still, the details are worth pursuing, and the virtue of Datta's article is that he has access to the original coverage of the event in the English-language press of the day:
In short, the English press was clueless, but that cluelessness might have actually slowed the adaptation of the song amongst Indian nationalists. Whatever the case, eventually the song would become strongly identified with the nationalist movement. It was even eventually adapted by Subhas Chandra Bose and the Indian National Army. You can't get more nationalist than that.
The critics of "Jana Gana Mana" would prefer to see it replaced by "Bande Mataram," also sometimes spelled "Vande Mataram") composed by Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, also sometimes spelled as Bankim Chandra Chatterjee. "Bande Mataram" (see the song here, with translation by the poet Sri Aurobindo) treats India as a Goddess to be worshipped. It was demoted from official anthem status, Datta says, because orthodox Indian Muslims (probably also Sikhs, Jains, Parsis, and Christians) would have had a hard time worshipping a "Goddess" of any form, even if, in the song, the "Mataram" isn't named as specifically Hindu.
[And if that's sexism, well, it probably is. But keep in mind that woman-as-Goddess isn't always a pro-feminist image -- it depends what kind of Goddess. But I digress.]
Finally, Datta makes a great point about the differences in the image of India in the two anthems:
Well said.
Personally, I prefer Mohammed Iqbal's "Sare Jaha se Achcha." I find it easiest to understand (after all, the other two are Bengali songs originally), and easier to sing than either of the others.
But then, I didn't grow up with any of these songs. Rather, the national anthem I grew up singing (badly, without much comprehension), was written by one Francis Scott Key: "O say can you see..."
The Hindu right has been casting aspersions on it recently (Datta cites Sadhvi Rithambara's "hate cassette" as well as websites like www.freeindia.org). The reason: it was composed by Tagore on the occasion of King George V's visit to the Indian National Congress in 1911. Tagore was famously ambivalent about the commission, and wrote the song as he did as an act -- he thought -- of subversion. But I suppose it's also possible to say that the song, written to celebrate the visit of the English king, loses some autonomy through that history. Still, the details are worth pursuing, and the virtue of Datta's article is that he has access to the original coverage of the event in the English-language press of the day:
The confusion about the song was stirred up by the ineptness of the pro-British Anglo-Indian press. Their inefficiency was not surprising (The Sunday Times once ascribed the authorship of Bande Mataram to Tagore and described Jana Gana Mana as a Hindi song!) On this occasion the Anglo-Indian press -- led by The Englishman - almost uniformly reported that a Tagore song had been sung to commemorate George V's visit to India. The reports were based on understandable ignorance since the Anglo-Indian press had neither the linguistic abilities nor the interest to be accurate. Actually, two songs that had been sung that day. The Jana Gana Mana had been followed by a Hindi song composed specially for George V by Rambhuj Chaudhary. There was no real connection between the composition of the Jana Gana Mana and George V, except that the song was sung -- not written - at an event which also felicitated the king. The Anglo-Indian press [luckily for Hindutva enthusiasts and unfortunately for secularists!] heard Indian songs much in the way they looked at foreign faces: they were all the same!
In short, the English press was clueless, but that cluelessness might have actually slowed the adaptation of the song amongst Indian nationalists. Whatever the case, eventually the song would become strongly identified with the nationalist movement. It was even eventually adapted by Subhas Chandra Bose and the Indian National Army. You can't get more nationalist than that.
The critics of "Jana Gana Mana" would prefer to see it replaced by "Bande Mataram," also sometimes spelled "Vande Mataram") composed by Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay, also sometimes spelled as Bankim Chandra Chatterjee. "Bande Mataram" (see the song here, with translation by the poet Sri Aurobindo) treats India as a Goddess to be worshipped. It was demoted from official anthem status, Datta says, because orthodox Indian Muslims (probably also Sikhs, Jains, Parsis, and Christians) would have had a hard time worshipping a "Goddess" of any form, even if, in the song, the "Mataram" isn't named as specifically Hindu.
[And if that's sexism, well, it probably is. But keep in mind that woman-as-Goddess isn't always a pro-feminist image -- it depends what kind of Goddess. But I digress.]
Finally, Datta makes a great point about the differences in the image of India in the two anthems:
But there is also an underlying reason that is really responsible for the controversy popping up at regular intervals. The words of Bande Mataram feature India as a homogeneous Hindu nation. Jana Gana Mana evokes the country as composed of a multiplicity of regions and communities united in a prayer to a universal lord. After all, Bande Mataram was composed by a colonial administrator who could only visualize the nation in Hindu terms: religious identity was the only available idiom for conceptualizing the nation then. In contrast, Tagore had seen the riots that broke up the Swadeshi movement and had divined the obvious: religious nationalism easily divided anti-colonial struggles. Jana Gana Mana can be seen as one of the fruits of Tagore's search to find an alternate inclusivist definition for the nation. Incidentally, it was one of the harbingers of a decade that was to see Hindu and Muslim politicians draw together. In short, the two songs embody different ideas, histories and aspirations of the country.
Well said.
Personally, I prefer Mohammed Iqbal's "Sare Jaha se Achcha." I find it easiest to understand (after all, the other two are Bengali songs originally), and easier to sing than either of the others.
But then, I didn't grow up with any of these songs. Rather, the national anthem I grew up singing (badly, without much comprehension), was written by one Francis Scott Key: "O say can you see..."
Fareed Zakaria: The British Raj vs. American Iraq
Though I've always opposed the war in Iraq, I resist describing the U.S. as "imperialist" the way some of my friends and colleagues tend to do. Whether or not the motives for going into Iraq were entirely above-board, there is no question that the U.S. will get out in time. The war may be a pretty awful thing, but it's not quite the same as imperialism in its classical form (and distinctions matter).
However, the U.S. is starting to use policies in Iraq that resemble what the British did in India. Specifically, Fareed Zakaria suggests, they seem to be starting a "Shia stratgy." The U.S. will favor one ethno-religious group, and pit it against the other major group -- essentially divide, flatter, and conquer. If the strategy continues, the winner will be Ayatollah Sistani and the small Shia majority, while the ostensible losers will be the Sunnis. I say "ostensible," because the real loser would be Iraq as a whole. Imperial favoritism in the British system inevitably led to more blood being shed:
The context of this, of course, is the ongoing -- seemingly intractable -- uprising in the Sunni cities of central Iraq. While hurricanes are leading on all the news channels in the U.S., the situation in Iraq is deteriorating again:
Well, at least Iraq is not another Vietnam. But is it another British India?
However, the U.S. is starting to use policies in Iraq that resemble what the British did in India. Specifically, Fareed Zakaria suggests, they seem to be starting a "Shia stratgy." The U.S. will favor one ethno-religious group, and pit it against the other major group -- essentially divide, flatter, and conquer. If the strategy continues, the winner will be Ayatollah Sistani and the small Shia majority, while the ostensible losers will be the Sunnis. I say "ostensible," because the real loser would be Iraq as a whole. Imperial favoritism in the British system inevitably led to more blood being shed:
In many of its colonies the British would often favor a single group as a quick means of gaining stability. Almost always the results were ruinous—a trail of civil war and bloodshed. If Allawi and the United States make the same mistake, there will be 140,000 American troops in the middle of it all.
The context of this, of course, is the ongoing -- seemingly intractable -- uprising in the Sunni cities of central Iraq. While hurricanes are leading on all the news channels in the U.S., the situation in Iraq is deteriorating again:
The American Army cannot use military superiority to take Sunni cities from the guerrillas because it would mean high civilian casualties and an angry public. The interim Iraqi government may itself not have the necessary credibility to take on such a task. Prime Minister Ayad Allawi is a tough guy, but he is clearly aware of the limits of his legitimacy. . . . Last week Iraq's ambassador to the United Nations, Samir Sumaiada'ie, predicted to The Scotsman that unless the United States and Britain added "a considerable amount" of troops to Iraq, the insurgency would grow.
But for all its resilience, the insurgency has not spread across the whole country, nor is it likely to. Its appeal has clear limits. While it has drawn some support from all Iraqis because of its anti-American character, it is essentially a Sunni movement, fueled by the anger of Iraq's once dominant community, who now fear the future. It is not supported by the Shias or the Kurds. (The Shia radical al-Sadr has been careful not to align himself too closely with the insurgency, for fear of losing support among the Shia.) This is what still makes me believe that Iraq is not Vietnam. There, the Viet Cong and their northern sponsors both appealed to a broad nationalism that much of the country shared.
Well, at least Iraq is not another Vietnam. But is it another British India?
Persons of Interest -- New Documentary
From Froomkin, I caught a link to the site for a documentary called Persons of Interest.
The people who were arrested randomly, detained endlessly, and deported unfairly after 9/11 will always necessarily be a smaller story than the people who died in such a horrifying way when the towers were attacked. That's fine -- it's probably how it should be.
But the aftermath-ers are still people, and their suffering is still a story that is worth telling. No one wants to admit that a few hundred Arab and Pakistani men detained for more than a year for no particular reason are part of the story of 9/11. (Two of the Perons of Interest in this film include a guy named Syed Ali, who was arrested on a tip from a former coworker bearing a grudge, as well as Mohammed Irshaid, who was arrested on anonymous vague charges.) It's not the end of the world. After all, these men survived their ordeals, though not without damage done. They remain, in my view, a necessary footnote to the larger tragedy.
Maybe the hysteria of both law enforcement and ordinary Americans was temporary, or maybe it's really true that the climate of fear and suspicion has hardened into permanency. I'm not really sure.
At any rate I'm glad this film has been made; I'll wait to say more until I get a chance to see it.
The people who were arrested randomly, detained endlessly, and deported unfairly after 9/11 will always necessarily be a smaller story than the people who died in such a horrifying way when the towers were attacked. That's fine -- it's probably how it should be.
But the aftermath-ers are still people, and their suffering is still a story that is worth telling. No one wants to admit that a few hundred Arab and Pakistani men detained for more than a year for no particular reason are part of the story of 9/11. (Two of the Perons of Interest in this film include a guy named Syed Ali, who was arrested on a tip from a former coworker bearing a grudge, as well as Mohammed Irshaid, who was arrested on anonymous vague charges.) It's not the end of the world. After all, these men survived their ordeals, though not without damage done. They remain, in my view, a necessary footnote to the larger tragedy.
Maybe the hysteria of both law enforcement and ordinary Americans was temporary, or maybe it's really true that the climate of fear and suspicion has hardened into permanency. I'm not really sure.
At any rate I'm glad this film has been made; I'll wait to say more until I get a chance to see it.
Tariq Ramadan -- sorting out the confusion
I'm still unsure about how to proceed with Tariq Ramadan. His visa was approved by the State department, but then denied according the U.S. Patriot Act, presumably the "public supporter of terrorism" clause (though DHS refuses to say). He has not been accused of actually being a terrorist, nor is he under suspicion by any American or international agency. He has been accused of being anti-Semitic for condemning French Jewish intellectuals who support Israel.
My first instinct is to doubt the U.S. government's motives and methods in denying him the visa. Since it is probably his public actions that are at issue in their decision to deny him a visa, perhaps the merits of the U.S. government's decision might be worked out through a close look at Ramadan in the public record. As for his private actions and connections, I'm not in a position to know or say. Nevertheless, many specific charges have been made against him in public by journalists (especially a French journalist named Brisard), and I have a suspicion that these played more than a small part in the DHS decision to deny him a visa.
Scott Martens has done the most exhaustive research into Ramadan I have seen on the web. In the link above, he sets up the basics of who Ramadan is and why his visa has been denied.
But here, Martens goes into some depth, and reads in detail several articles published only in French to refute charges made against Tariq Ramadan by Daniel Pipes. There are dozens of strange charges that have been made, including statements made by people detained in Guantanamo on suspicion of being terrorists that they had taken classes with him (which actually turns out to be impossible chronologically). Other charges include: reports of meetings with terrorists (people Ramadan says he's never met), and mystery bank accounts (also denied).
There are lots and lots of details -- too many details for me to be quite confident in making a general judgment yet. Many of the articles cited by Pipes, Martens shows, are dubious -- or they don't say what Pipes says they say. At the end, much of the suspicion of Ramadan seems to circulate around him because his grandfather founded the Muslim Brotherhood (originally as a reformist movement; it became associated with terrorism more recently), and his father and brother are Islamists.
On the question of whether Ramadan is anti-Semitic, I don't buy it. He published an article in French that was published here, where he criticizes French Jewish intellectuals. Angry, yes. Anti-Semitic, no. There is more on this at Muslim Wake Up!; especially helpful is their link to this interview at Ha'aretz.
Closer to home, there is also an excellent colloquy (live on the web) with him sponsored by The Chronicle of Higher Education. He comes across well.
My first instinct is to doubt the U.S. government's motives and methods in denying him the visa. Since it is probably his public actions that are at issue in their decision to deny him a visa, perhaps the merits of the U.S. government's decision might be worked out through a close look at Ramadan in the public record. As for his private actions and connections, I'm not in a position to know or say. Nevertheless, many specific charges have been made against him in public by journalists (especially a French journalist named Brisard), and I have a suspicion that these played more than a small part in the DHS decision to deny him a visa.
Scott Martens has done the most exhaustive research into Ramadan I have seen on the web. In the link above, he sets up the basics of who Ramadan is and why his visa has been denied.
But here, Martens goes into some depth, and reads in detail several articles published only in French to refute charges made against Tariq Ramadan by Daniel Pipes. There are dozens of strange charges that have been made, including statements made by people detained in Guantanamo on suspicion of being terrorists that they had taken classes with him (which actually turns out to be impossible chronologically). Other charges include: reports of meetings with terrorists (people Ramadan says he's never met), and mystery bank accounts (also denied).
There are lots and lots of details -- too many details for me to be quite confident in making a general judgment yet. Many of the articles cited by Pipes, Martens shows, are dubious -- or they don't say what Pipes says they say. At the end, much of the suspicion of Ramadan seems to circulate around him because his grandfather founded the Muslim Brotherhood (originally as a reformist movement; it became associated with terrorism more recently), and his father and brother are Islamists.
On the question of whether Ramadan is anti-Semitic, I don't buy it. He published an article in French that was published here, where he criticizes French Jewish intellectuals. Angry, yes. Anti-Semitic, no. There is more on this at Muslim Wake Up!; especially helpful is their link to this interview at Ha'aretz.
Closer to home, there is also an excellent colloquy (live on the web) with him sponsored by The Chronicle of Higher Education. He comes across well.
How seriously should one take academic blogging?
I've been involved in a small way in a discussion started here (Unfogged), continued here (Little Professor), and then here (Brandon, of Siris).
The debate is on how seriously academics should take their blogs. The obvious first answer is that it depends on how seriously the blog is done. Most academic bloggers who are not pseudonymous do discuss some fairly serious issues on their blogs, though very few are exclusively serious. In these cases, the blog as a whole should not be considered seriously, but individual posts might count.
But as it is, even bloggers who are semi-serious usually feel compelled, when asked by colleagues, to dismiss blogging as a form of actual scholarship: "no, it's just something I do for fun." And it is usually fun -- more fun than writing papers for actual journals, at any rate. But could it be more than just fun?
In order for blogging to become more serious, what one would need is the institution of some kind of editorial body -- some standards. Vehicles like Arts & Letters Daily and Political Theory Daily Review collect their editors' idea of the 'best of the web,' but they limit themselves to essays published in the established media that are available on the web. It might be interesting to imagine a comparable entity that would select the best of academic blogs on a weekly or daily basis.
But isn't it possible that academic blogging with higher standards would instantly become much less fun? Who would pick the 'editors' of the vehicle I was just describing? Why not just start more digital journal/newsletters like CTheory?
There might be a middle course -- between the fun and informality of blogging and the requirements of formal scholarship as it is currently known. Perhaps (and here I'm echoing LP and Brandon of Siris) academic blogging might not ever be a venue for serious scholarship, because the institution won't accept it and because we (as bloggers) don't want to take it in that direction. But semi-serious academic blogging might be a venue for something more along the lines of academic journalism -- similar to the kinds of writing one sees in the Chronicle of Higher Education and, in the old days, Lingua Franca.
I must confess I don't really know what I think about this yet. On the one hand, the structure of academic scholarship may change as the digital revolution continues to develop. And on the other hand, blogging is such a new form (it's been around for a few years, but it's only become massively widespread in the past year) that it is impossible to see where it's going yet. If the definition of scholarship may change, it seems to me that blogging will certainly change. The problem becomes much more difficult if both variables are in flux...
Update: See the comments on Cliopatria.
The debate is on how seriously academics should take their blogs. The obvious first answer is that it depends on how seriously the blog is done. Most academic bloggers who are not pseudonymous do discuss some fairly serious issues on their blogs, though very few are exclusively serious. In these cases, the blog as a whole should not be considered seriously, but individual posts might count.
But as it is, even bloggers who are semi-serious usually feel compelled, when asked by colleagues, to dismiss blogging as a form of actual scholarship: "no, it's just something I do for fun." And it is usually fun -- more fun than writing papers for actual journals, at any rate. But could it be more than just fun?
In order for blogging to become more serious, what one would need is the institution of some kind of editorial body -- some standards. Vehicles like Arts & Letters Daily and Political Theory Daily Review collect their editors' idea of the 'best of the web,' but they limit themselves to essays published in the established media that are available on the web. It might be interesting to imagine a comparable entity that would select the best of academic blogs on a weekly or daily basis.
But isn't it possible that academic blogging with higher standards would instantly become much less fun? Who would pick the 'editors' of the vehicle I was just describing? Why not just start more digital journal/newsletters like CTheory?
There might be a middle course -- between the fun and informality of blogging and the requirements of formal scholarship as it is currently known. Perhaps (and here I'm echoing LP and Brandon of Siris) academic blogging might not ever be a venue for serious scholarship, because the institution won't accept it and because we (as bloggers) don't want to take it in that direction. But semi-serious academic blogging might be a venue for something more along the lines of academic journalism -- similar to the kinds of writing one sees in the Chronicle of Higher Education and, in the old days, Lingua Franca.
I must confess I don't really know what I think about this yet. On the one hand, the structure of academic scholarship may change as the digital revolution continues to develop. And on the other hand, blogging is such a new form (it's been around for a few years, but it's only become massively widespread in the past year) that it is impossible to see where it's going yet. If the definition of scholarship may change, it seems to me that blogging will certainly change. The problem becomes much more difficult if both variables are in flux...
Update: See the comments on Cliopatria.
Rotten Reviews: Proust, Voltaire, and Carroll
On Friday afternoons I like to spend a little time in used bookstores poking around; it's a tradition I started in grad school, and I guess it helps me remind myself that there are still lots of possibilities out there. Despite the limits imposed by period specialization, and the exhaustion produced by studying some authors too seriously, there's always new stuff to read. My attitude on these Friday afternoon missions is not so much "aggressively pursue books I must read," but "glance at things I might want to learn sometime." It's also a nice way to stop and have an unhurried cup of coffee.
Yesterday I didn't find anything that exciting, but I did come across a little thing called Rotten Reviews: A Literary Companion, edited by Bill Henderson. It's a compilation of excerpts from 'hatchet jobs' of books we now think of as masterpieces.
The best one isn't a review, but an editor's rejection letter:
Some of the reviews make me laugh because they are, in some way, true after all. Like this one of Voltaire's Candide:
Well, I do admire Candide, but Voltaire is a bit of a hysterical ape, isn't he?
And some just make me cringe, which is what is probably supposed happen while reading a book called Rotten Reviews. An example of a cringer is this unbelievable review of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland:
I'm glad Children's Books always kept real children in mind; maybe the reviewer had an editor standing over his or her head, shouting, "Always keep REAL CHILDREN in mind!" But maybe, in this extreme case, the reviewer should have just refused to notice. Because hordes of fake children, at least, would become very fond of Alice in subsequent years.
Unrelatedly, my current favorite reviewer's synonyms for "nonsense" are "flapdoodle" and "twaddle."
Yesterday I didn't find anything that exciting, but I did come across a little thing called Rotten Reviews: A Literary Companion, edited by Bill Henderson. It's a compilation of excerpts from 'hatchet jobs' of books we now think of as masterpieces.
The best one isn't a review, but an editor's rejection letter:
"I may perhaps be dead from the neck up, but rack my brains as I may I can't see why a chap should need thirty pages to describe how he turns over in bed before going to sleep." (Marc Humblot, French editor, rejection letter to Proust 1912)
Some of the reviews make me laugh because they are, in some way, true after all. Like this one of Voltaire's Candide:
It seems to have been written by a creature of a nature wholly different from our own, indifferent to our lot, rejoicing in our sufferings, and laughing like a demon or an ape at the misery of this human race with which he has nothing in common. (Madame de Stael, De L'Allemagne)
Well, I do admire Candide, but Voltaire is a bit of a hysterical ape, isn't he?
And some just make me cringe, which is what is probably supposed happen while reading a book called Rotten Reviews. An example of a cringer is this unbelievable review of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland:
We fancy that any real child might be more puzzled than enchanted by this stiff, overwrought story. (from Children's Books)
I'm glad Children's Books always kept real children in mind; maybe the reviewer had an editor standing over his or her head, shouting, "Always keep REAL CHILDREN in mind!" But maybe, in this extreme case, the reviewer should have just refused to notice. Because hordes of fake children, at least, would become very fond of Alice in subsequent years.
Unrelatedly, my current favorite reviewer's synonyms for "nonsense" are "flapdoodle" and "twaddle."
Documentary on widows in India
Widows in many parts of India continue to be treated quite badly. A U.S. based Indian director named Dharan Mandrayar is making a documentary on the subject, according to the BBC:
A new film called White Rainbows tells the story of four widows in Vrindavan - who were raped, disfigured and abandoned by their families.
It is based on the real life story of Mohini Giri, today, India's leading advocate of widows' rights.
She says the film tells the ugly truth.
"The atrocities are manifold - one is due to hunger, the second - no shelter - they have to depend on men who in turn molest them or take advantage of their vulnerability and the third is illiteracy - they are not educated.
Dharan Mandrayar, is the film's director. An Indian living in California, he says he was shocked to discover widows were still treated in such appalling manner.
Proof that I don't understand globalization: Samuelson and Bhagwati
This New York Times piece, about how the economist Paul A. Samuelson is challenging the pro-globalization arguments of protege Jagdish Bhagwati (Mr. In Defense of Globalization), goes over my head at one moment:
Can anyone explain Ricardoian comparative advantage theory for me?
That said, Samuelson's main point -- that one long-term consequence of outsourcing could be wage losses in the U.S. -- comes across crystal-clear.
His article, Mr. Samuelson added, is not a refutation of David Ricardo's 1817 theory of comparative advantage, the Magna Carta of international economics that says free trade allows economies to benefit from the efficiencies of global specialization. Mr. Samuelson said he was merely "interpreting fully and correctly Ricardoian comparative advantage theory." That interpretation, he insists, includes some "important qualifications" to the arguments of globalization's cheerleaders.
Can anyone explain Ricardoian comparative advantage theory for me?
That said, Samuelson's main point -- that one long-term consequence of outsourcing could be wage losses in the U.S. -- comes across crystal-clear.
The Hero Sucks (Not "stunning," not "stirring," not "ravishing"...)
The Hero was really hard for me to stomach. It has several major annoyances, no logical dramatic movement, and a wretchedly jingoistic theme (genocide is acceptable in the interest of national unity).
Physically, the film is hard to listen to, especially if you see it in a big multiplex where the volume is up loud. The sound track during the fights is full of the sound of swishing and clinking swords, mixed very high to sound "big." But as I as watched the film the other night, the sound during the fights often felt more like nails on a chalboard than magical Chinese swordplay. I had to cover my ears.
So: bring your earplugs.
The visual aspects of the fight sequences aren't all that good either. There is a very beautiful swordfight at the beginning of the film, and the famous sequence on a lake is also cool as a feat of cinematography (though it doesn't register as a "serious" fight). But many of the fights are fluffy. The kind of rigorous physical engagement that has become a trademark of Yuen Wo-Ping (who did the fight choreography for The Matrix and Kill Bill) is often absent here. The fights involving women were especially fluffy -- as if Zhang Yimou and Tony Ching Siu Tung (the action director) didn't want to put their actresses to any trouble. Instead of asking them to hold swords (all of the characters in the film are sword-fighters and professional warrior-assasins), they have them flying through the air in billowing red gowns as bright yellow (paper) leaves magically gust. It's pretty, but it's not compelling.
When the characters aren't fighting, the film is incredibly, unbelievably, dull.
Oh and did I mention the fascist moral of the story? It's so repulsive, I feel I should go back to earlier Yimou films like Raise the Red Lanterna and Ju Dou to see if American movie reviewers were on crack when those came out too. Like many critics, when I was younger I tended to accept anything "exotic" as inherently valuable. I spoke in earnest tones about the great Chinese directors, Zhang Yimou, Ang Lee, and Chen Kaige (Farewell my Concubine, Temptress Moon).
But with age comes an important lesson: the fact that a film is exotic doesn't preclude the possibility that it is crap.
Physically, the film is hard to listen to, especially if you see it in a big multiplex where the volume is up loud. The sound track during the fights is full of the sound of swishing and clinking swords, mixed very high to sound "big." But as I as watched the film the other night, the sound during the fights often felt more like nails on a chalboard than magical Chinese swordplay. I had to cover my ears.
So: bring your earplugs.
The visual aspects of the fight sequences aren't all that good either. There is a very beautiful swordfight at the beginning of the film, and the famous sequence on a lake is also cool as a feat of cinematography (though it doesn't register as a "serious" fight). But many of the fights are fluffy. The kind of rigorous physical engagement that has become a trademark of Yuen Wo-Ping (who did the fight choreography for The Matrix and Kill Bill) is often absent here. The fights involving women were especially fluffy -- as if Zhang Yimou and Tony Ching Siu Tung (the action director) didn't want to put their actresses to any trouble. Instead of asking them to hold swords (all of the characters in the film are sword-fighters and professional warrior-assasins), they have them flying through the air in billowing red gowns as bright yellow (paper) leaves magically gust. It's pretty, but it's not compelling.
When the characters aren't fighting, the film is incredibly, unbelievably, dull.
Oh and did I mention the fascist moral of the story? It's so repulsive, I feel I should go back to earlier Yimou films like Raise the Red Lanterna and Ju Dou to see if American movie reviewers were on crack when those came out too. Like many critics, when I was younger I tended to accept anything "exotic" as inherently valuable. I spoke in earnest tones about the great Chinese directors, Zhang Yimou, Ang Lee, and Chen Kaige (Farewell my Concubine, Temptress Moon).
But with age comes an important lesson: the fact that a film is exotic doesn't preclude the possibility that it is crap.
Bhangra Aerobics -- Hareepa!
I had heard rumors of this, but couldn't bring myself to believe it. Now I see that it is in fact true. Apparently, you can even get "masala bhangra" exercise videos by Veera Mahajan and Sarina Jain.
For better or worse. It seems mostly benign, though the following sentence troubles me: "Like yoga, bhangra has the potential to grow and grow." Um, yoga and bhangra are not in the same cultural space.
For better or worse. It seems mostly benign, though the following sentence troubles me: "Like yoga, bhangra has the potential to grow and grow." Um, yoga and bhangra are not in the same cultural space.
Also: Amitava Kumar's latest (Husband of a Fanatic)
And while we're reading the new Outlook, I have to say that this review of Amitava Kumar's Husband of a Fanatic by Swapan Dasgupta, strikes me as completely unfair.
Amitava Kumar is angry, but he has a right to be. Secularism in India is a mess. Life for people with foreign passports in the U.S. since 9/11 has also been a mess, though for a different reason: the immigrations system in this country has more or less completely broken down.
I am going to go out and get this one.
Amitava Kumar is angry, but he has a right to be. Secularism in India is a mess. Life for people with foreign passports in the U.S. since 9/11 has also been a mess, though for a different reason: the immigrations system in this country has more or less completely broken down.
I am going to go out and get this one.
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