Poems Written 1798-1799 by William Wordsworth

Source of book: I own the complete Wordsworth

 

Since I last wrote about Wordsworth, I exchanged my paperback version for a hardback. Both, however, are the “Cambridge Edition” by Houghton Mifflin, and are - conveniently - laid out the same way. I have a few of these editions, both in paper and hardback, and have mixed feelings about them, in part because they vary a lot. Some are organized by original collection, such as James Russell Lowell. Others, like this one, are the poems in chronological order of writing by year. I find this irritating because, on the one hand, as much as I enjoy Wordsworth, the prospect of reading all 800+ pages at once is unappealing; and on the other, finding an arbitrary place to stop is difficult. In this case, I decided to read two years worth, which is about 50 pages of double-column small print, about the equivalent of 100 pages in a normal poetry book. Since I read the early poems through 1787 last time, continuing where I left off seemed logical. 

Wordsworth around the time these were written. 

He definitely got more attractive later in life. 

While I wasn’t particularly familiar with the early poems, the ones written in these years are better known. By 1798, Wordsworth was 27, and working on a joint volume of poetry with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, entitled Lyrical Ballads. This was a success, and established both of their careers - and in the process, kicked off the Romantic movement in poetry. 

 

As the name would imply, many of the poems are lyrical ballads, with stories about rural England and its inhabitants. Unlike prior eras of poetry, which used exalted language to tell of the gods and heroes, Romantic poetry uses ordinary (for its time) language to tell of common people and their lives. 

 

It was also in this period that Wordsworth wrote his series of “Lucy” poems. Feel free to go down the rabbit hole of who “Lucy” might have been - most of the theories seem to be a real stretch. I tend to agree with the school of thought that has concluded that the Lucy of the poems is more of a poetic ideal than any one real person. 

 

While I had previously read most of the Lucy series, I was not familiar with the “Matthew” series, a set of poems about a beloved schoolmaster. These were probably based in part on Wordsworth’s teacher, William Taylor, but are clearly not strictly about him, as Taylor died young while “Matthew” lives at least into his 70s in the poems. I enjoyed these poems quite a bit, with their description of a man who instilled a love of learning, nature, and kindness in his students. 

There are also, of course, some long and tragic stories, because this is that particular era. 

Here are the poems that stood out to me this time. 

First, I have to mention “Lines Written a Few Miles above Tinturn Abbey,” which has long been a favorite of mine. It is too long to quote, but as a blank verse musing - almost a dramatic monologue - it spoke to me as a youth, and again in middle age. The idea of looking back on what one was, and recognizing growth and change while feeling the same thrill of a beautiful place in nature resonates as much now as it did then. 

Next up is this one, which I consider one of the finest nature poems Wordsworth wrote. 

 

A Night-Piece

 

———The sky is overcast

With a continuous cloud of texture close,

Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon,

Which through that veil is indistinctly seen,

A dull, contracted circle, yielding light

So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls,

Chequering the ground—from rock, plant, tree, or tower.

At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam

Startles the pensive traveller while he treads

His lonesome path, with unobserving eye

Bent earthwards; he looks up—the clouds are split

Asunder,—and above his head he sees

The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens.

There, in a black-blue vault she sails along,

Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small

And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss

Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away,

Yet vanish not!—the wind is in the tree,

But they are silent;—still they roll along

Immeasurably distant; and the vault,

Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,

Still deepens its unfathomable depth.

At length the Vision closes; and the mind,

Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,

Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,

Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.

 

It is an experience I have had, but told in a lovely poetic way. 

On a more philosophical note, I read the next one years ago, but forgot just how fascinating it is. 

 

Lines Written in Early Spring

 

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

 

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man.

 

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And ’tis my faith that every flower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

 

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:—

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

 

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

 

If this belief from heaven be sent,

If such be Nature’s holy plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?

 

Wordsworth wrote at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution, and his words seem even more relevant today. What man has made of man indeed.

I’d also like to mention the longer ballad, “Peter Bell,” which tells of an old and unpleasant man who one day discovers a donkey grieving its dead master, who has drowned in a river. This sight, and the effect that Peter’s sad news gives to the decedent’s family, ends up changing him for the better. There is one line that was particularly brilliant. 

 

"A Potter, Sir, he was by trade,"

Said I, becoming quite collected;

"And wheresoever he appeared,

Full twenty times was Peter feared

For once that Peter was respected. 

 

I expect we all can think of plenty who are far more feared than respected. 

Another poem that had an interesting stanza was this one, itself an excerpt from a series of essays and articles that Wordsworth and Coleridge wrote together over a number of years. The poem itself is entitled “Influence of Natural Objects,” but it is the opening that I loved the most. 

 

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!

Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!

And giv'st to forms and images a breath

And everlasting motion! not in vain,

By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn

Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me

The passions that build up our human soul;

Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man;

But with high objects, with enduring things,

With life and nature; purifying thus

The elements of feeling and of thought,

And sanctifying by such discipline

Both pain and fear,—until we recognize

A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. 

 

A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. Building up our human soul, not with the mean and vulgar works of man, but with the enduring things of nature and aspiration. 

I should also quote a Lucy poem. I first experienced this one as a child. 

 

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

 

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

 

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

—Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

 

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me! 

 

I’ll end with an unusual poem, which Wordsworth wrote in Germany on what he described in the subtitle as a very cold day. He explains in a note that the wood stoves in Germany often have a figure of a galloping horse engraved - the Brunswick Arms. 

 

Written in Germany

On One of the Coldest Days of the Century

 

A fig for your languages, German and Norse!

Let me have the song of the Kettle;

And the tongs and the poker, instead of that Horse

That gallops away with such fury and force

On this dreary dull plate of black metal.

 

Our earth is no doubt made of excellent stuff;

But her pulses beat slower and slower:

The weather in Forty was cutting and rough,

And then, as Heaven knows, the Glass stood low enough;

And now it is four degrees lower.

 

Here's a Fly, a disconsolate creature,—perhaps

A child of the field, or the grove;

And, sorrow for him! this dull treacherous heat

Has seduced the poor fool from his winter retreat,

And he creeps to the edge of my stove.

 

Alas! how he fumbles about the domains

Which this comfortless oven environ!

He cannot find out in what track he must crawl,

Now back to the tiles, and now back to the wall,

And now on the brink of the iron.

 

Stock-still there he stands like a traveller bemazed;

The best of his skill he has tried;

His feelers methinks I can see him put forth

To the East and the West, and the South and the North;

But he finds neither Guide-post nor Guide.

 

See! his spindles sink under him, foot, leg and thigh;

His eye-sight and hearing are lost;

Between life and death his blood freezes and thaws;

And his two pretty pinions of blue dusky gauze

Are glued to his sides by the frost.

 

No Brother, no Friend has he near him—while I

Can draw warmth from the cheek of my Love;

As blest and as glad in this desolate gloom,

As if green summer grass were the floor of my room,

And woodbines were hanging above.

 

Yet, God is my witness, thou small helpless Thing!

Thy life I would gladly sustain

Till summer comes up from the South, and with crowds

Of thy brethren a march thou shouldst sound through the clouds,

And back to the forests again.

 

That picture of the poor unwanted fly, trying to find the balance between freezing and boiling is unexpected and well drawn. 

I wonder sometimes if I am the only person left who enjoys Wordsworth. I hope not, because I think his poems are delightful to read aloud, filled with a love of nature and life, and show a power of observation that few seem to have. 

 

 

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

Source of book: Audiobook and book borrowed from the library.

 

This is a weird case where I listened to the first ⅔ of the book on audiobook, before switching to the print version for the last, so I could finish it faster. 

 

This was this month’s selection for our “Literary Lush” book club. This book was on my own reading list, so I was glad that it became a selection for the club. 

 

The Vanishing Half is a book about identity. It raises some fascinating questions about how we form our identity. In particular, are we who we are born as, or are we the way others categorize us, or are we who we choose to be. In this book, the answer, to the extent there is one, is, “yes.” Yes to all of those, and yet perhaps to none of them as well. 

 

The story centers on twin girls, Stella and Desiree, whose lives take contrasting paths. They are born in a community of light-skinned African Americans in Louisiana, founded by a man whose father-enslaver freed him. (These towns still exist to an extent.) The residents engaged in a project to have as light-skinned children as possible, while disdaining darker-skinned African Americans. 

 

This didn’t change how whites viewed them, of course. Stella and Desiree’s father is lynched, for example, and they are still considered “colored” both legally and socially. 

 

Things change a bit, though, when Stella and Desiree are forced to quit school and help support the family when they turn 16. Stella, brilliant at math, wanted to go to college, and instead finds herself repeatedly sexually assaulted by her employer. Desiree just wants to get the hell outa town. So the two disappear, and go to New Orleans to make new lives. 

 

Formerly inseparable, the twins eventually are separated. Stella simply disappears after she finds a good job - by pretending to be white. She is able to “pass,” and so she just takes on the new identity. As we eventually discover, she marries her boss, has a blonde daughter, and lives the rich life in California. 

 

Desiree, in contrast, marries the blackest man she can find. He, unfortunately, turns out to be controlling and abusive (and deeply insecure about his darker skin.) Desiree once again disappears, returning to her hometown along with her “blue-black” daughter, Jude. 

 

Eventually, the focus of the story shifts to Jude and her blond cousin, Kennedy. (The story jumps around a lot in time, with details revealed throughout, so it is more about the focus than a linear narrative.) 

 

Jude, despite being persecuted as a “dark” person in a light town, finds her own identity. She is fast enough at running to get a scholarship at UCLA. While there, she meets a young man, Reece, who becomes her friend, and later her lover. Reece has his own identity secrets. He was born Therese, and ran away from his transphobic Fundamentalist family, changed his identity, and found a source of street steroids. (The setting is 1978, so options were...limited, and the term “transsexual” was still the term used.) Through Reece, Jude becomes part of a social circle centered on the drag queen scene in Los Angeles, and they essentially become her family away from home. 

 

While working for a caterer, Jude accidentally runs across Stella and Kennedy. Eventually, she is able to confirm her suspicions about Stella’s identity, and confronts her. Stella denies everything, but Kennedy realizes the truth. 

 

That’s kind of the basic idea about the plot. The heart of the book, though, is not about what happens to the characters, but on their own struggles over identity and truth and perception. And don’t get the wrong impression about the perspective. Bennett is certainly not concluding that identity is determined at birth. Far from it. But the three all interact. To some degree, our identity is a mixed-up amalgam of our past, how others perceive us, and who we choose to be. 

 

Related to identity is the question of belonging. How we identify ourselves and how we are identified by others very much determine our experience of belonging. Or of alienation. 

 

For Stella, she never really belongs. She is accepted as white, and to a significant degree, she is - becomes - white. But she never truly feels she belongs. She remains alienated from pretty much everyone throughout the book, including her husband and daughter. The secrets and the lies create the need for walls. Kennedy too struggles to find belonging - and to find her identity. 

 

In contrast, Jude finds her tribe in many ways. Her alienation is obvious - she is so dark even the average African American discriminates against her. But within the drag queen community, and with Reece - and eventually in med school - she finds community. Desiree has a disappointing life in many ways, but she at least finds ways to belong. 

 

A great quote that really stuck with me is this one:

 

There are many ways to be alienated from someone, few to actually belong.

 

We had quite the discussion in our club on this book, with some rather interesting thoughts about it. One mentioned a couple times was that the book seemed almost too short - it would have been nice to have had a whole book on each of the characters, because they were all so interesting. As a lover of Victorian literature, I would have been fine with a 900 page tome with more depth. Say, a modern day Middlemarch. However, within the confines of modern marketing, 350 pages may have been a practical limit to get the book deal. 

 

A related quibble was that we mostly get glimpses of the interior life, with much of the book being dialogue driven rather than introspection driven. I felt that Bennett was effective in communicating the inner life, but certainly in a longer book, it would have been interesting to take a deeper dive. This is also related to the larger number of important characters. The four main ones of Stella, Desiree, Jude, and Kennedy are the center, but some the supporting characters are almost as well developed. In particular, Reece and Early Jones (the bounty hunter who becomes Desiree’s partner) get a lot of attention, and the passages with Desiree’s ex, Sam, her mother Adele; and Stella’s husband Blake, and her brief friendship with Loretta, the first African Americans to force their way into Brentwood are all crucial to the story and themes. So there was a lot going on. 

 

The final issue was the question of Blake, who perhaps feels the most wooden of the characters. As my wife noted, perhaps Bennett had a hard time feeling a connection to a rich white guy. I felt he was recognizable - I have certainly met a number of people like him. He, like most characters, isn’t a bad person, but he is trapped in his own patriarchal and classist beliefs, and is never able to break through Stella’s barriers. 

 

Overall, I really enjoyed the book. Bennett’s writing is excellent, and her characters well drawn. This has been a theme over the last few years. Much of the best modern writing is being done by women of color, and many of my favorite reads in the last two years have been by women writing about these themes. (Just peruse my blog and you will see what I mean.) 

 

I should mention some of the things I liked particularly. Bennett brings the issue of colorism to life, and creates a memorable story about “passing.” It isn’t the first, of course - ever since the second half of the 19th Century, white dudes have written about it, for better or worse. (William Dean Howells at least wrote about interracial marriage - even if the couple did have to move to Europe at the end.) Later, during the Harlem Renaissance, African Americans wrote far better and nuanced books about passing. However, The Vanishing Half feels far more modern - in a good way - and thus resonates more for white readers more familiar with their racist uncles in the 1970s than their KKK great-great grandparents in the 1920s. 

 

Another thing that I loved was the way Bennett handled Reece, the rare example of a transgender character. This is definitely not a “the lesbian dies in the end” kind of story. Reece is also not a sidekick. He is neither an angel nor a villain, although he is a decent, kind, and admirable character. He comes across as thoroughly human, with his own hangups, insecurities, struggles, and passions. And, of course, nothing horrible happens to him at the end. 

 

Finally, the final theme, perhaps, of the book, is the need for growth, change, and flexibility. It is the characters who cannot or will not grow who end up in the saddest place. Stella in particular seems to resist positive change. On the one hand, she does go back to school, and finds some positives in a more feminist approach. But she also cannot push past her own fears even to admit to her daughter what Kennedy already knows about her past. It seems doubtful that she will ever actually make a connection. Not with her husband or daughter, not with her twin sister, and probably never with anyone. 

 

Kennedy too seems stuck in her past by the end, not really sure how to have a genuine relationship with anyone. Sam destroys his marriage because he refuses to channel his own insecurities into positive change rather than violence and attempts to control. 

 

The characters who do change and grow seem to find the most belonging and connection. Jude is open and honest, and accepts those on the fringe of mainstream society. She even makes more of a connection with Kennedy than Kennedy is able to reciprocate. Reece expresses himself in kindness and vulnerability with Jude, and learns to let her see all of him. Desiree learns to accept the love of Early, whose plodding and patient approach to life is a contrast to her former desire for excitement. Early overcomes his own history of trauma and abandonment and learns to give of himself in his own quiet way. In each case, growth takes place by accepting others that were previously marginalized, whether because of darker skin, gender identity, or marital status. 

 

As a final note, I should mention the audiobook. The only thing I hated was that it ended disks in the middle of paragraphs - occasionally sentences. I do not get this. If it really doesn’t fit any other way, just add a freaking disk, okay? 

 

That said, the narrator, Shayna Small, was outstanding. In particular, her regional accents, from Louisiana to Arkansas to the Midwest, to Boston, to my own hometown of Los Angeles, she nails them. Characters are easily distinguishable, including Stella and Desiree, who start out somewhat alike, and then diverge as the story goes on. That’s outstanding acting right there, truly inhabiting multiple characters. The audiobook is an experience in itself. 

Conspiracy Theories and Other Dangerous Ideas by Cass Sunstein

Source of book: Borrowed from the library. 

 

It’s a good thing Cass Sunstein has a sense of humor. For reasons that I do not understand, the right-wing outrage industrial complex decided that Sunstein would be one of the big scapegoats of the Obama administration, and initiated a smear campaign against him. Sample of stuff said:

 

“The most evil man, the most dangerous man in America.” (Glenn Beck)

 

Also some choice words from right wing blog sites (remember when blogs were a thing everyone did, not just yours truly?) And Sarah Palin, and Sean Hannity, and the usual suspects. I mean, Cass Sunstein was suddenly the very devil himself, the incarnation of “communism” or something. 

The two most dangerous extremists in America, if you listen to the right wing. 

Elsewhere in the world, they are thoughtful center-right moderates... 

 

For this book, Sunstein took a selection of these quotes, and used them as the back cover blurbs. 

 

The silly thing about all of this is, that in a sane country - like the rest of the first world - Sunstein would be rightfully acknowledged as what he is: a conservative in the classic sense. 

 

He’s not on the American Right Wing, of course, because he isn’t a nativist or a social darwinist. But by global standards, he’s center-right with a conservative and cautious temperament. He would have been right at home in, say, the Eisenhower administration. He has some intriguing ideas, but nothing remotely “radical” except by far-right standards. Even his most “controversial” ideas are carefully stated, with caveats, opposing arguments acknowledged, and proposed in ways that seem evenhanded and practical. Nobody could mistake him for an actual socialist, let alone a communist, and he is clearly to the right of the progressive movement. 

 

In that sense, he really seems similar to another essentially conservative and cautious guy who is now described as a “radical socialist” by the Right Wing: President Joseph Biden. 

 

I think one big reason that Sunstein is so hated is that he is a policy wonk, an intellectual, and a careful thinker. This is anathema to ideology. A careful thought process, nuanced proposals, consideration of unintended consequences, and a willingness to adjust policies as their level of effectiveness become more clear - these are all dangerous to the person who needs everything to be black and white, good and evil, and sees policies simply as “beating the libs.” Solving difficult social problems is, well, difficult, or someone would already have solved them. And, if societies didn’t evolve, fixes from the past might work, but changing circumstances mean changing solutions. And, in particular, the social darwinist vision of the Right Wing mostly makes sense in a hunter-gatherer society, not one where most people are dependent on large employers for the ability to make a living. 

 

I have previously read three Cass Sunstein books: Nudge (co-author with Richard Thaler), Why Societies Need Dissent, and Constitutional Personae. The first book was essentially an argument in favor of gentle incentives and use of default settings (“nudges”) to encourage people to make better decisions or at least not make bad ones. As an alternative to government mandates, it seemed, well, conservative. Likewise, the argument for free speech, diversity of thought, and open mindedness in Why Societies Need Dissent should appeal to anyone who dislikes tribalism, polarization, and increased looniness. But it clearly threatens people who think ideological (or theological) purity is the goal. The last book was all about the Supreme Court, and the different styles and approaches that have historically characterized certain justices. It’s a nerdy law book, and only partisan to the extent that, say, a belief in civil rights is partisan. (Welcome to 2021, people.) In all of these books, the common good, rational policy, empathy, and flexibility are the goals, and the use of our existing institutions, from markets to the free press, are the means. 

 

This book, Conspiracy Theories and Other Dangerous Ideas, is a collection of essays. The title one is obvious: it picks up a thread from Dissent, and looks at how conspiracy theories get started and propagate, as well as some ideas on how to stop them. It’s a bit dated in the sense that back in 2014, it seemed plausible that you could, by speaking up, break a thread. But that was before the Trump cult, and Q Anon. This doesn’t mean that the essay is useless. It actually has some excellent ideas and a careful analysis of the factors that let conspiracy theories get going. The problem currently is just bigger than any solutions we have. Just to give one example, the fear of getting the Covid vaccine, which is based on bad information, conspiracy theories, and partisan posturing. 

 

The introduction uses an interesting phrase that I really love, and will probably steal. Sunstein borrowed it from political scientist Russell Hardin. He describes a root of the problem as “the crippled epistemology of extremism.” That’s fantastic. For all of us, we have our own issues of epistemology, because we are simply incapable of knowing things directly. We have to choose who to trust. As Sunstein puts it, “we are often confident in what we believe, but we don’t have reason to be. Much of what we know can turn out to be badly wrong.” 

 

That’s why a crippled epistemology is so problematic. Once you limit your source of knowledge about the universe to the small subset of people who agree with your ideology or theology, you lack the means of self-correcting when you turn out to be wrong. 

 

Conspiracy theories generally attribute to certain agents extraordinary powers: to plan, to control others, to maintain secrets, and so forth. Those who believe that those agents possess such powers are especially unlikely to give respectful attention to debunkers, who, in their eyes, may, after all, be agents or dupes of those responsible for the conspiracy in the first place. Because debunkers are untrustworthy, the simplest governmental technique for dispelling fals (and also harmful) beliefs - providing credible information - may fail to work for conspiracy theories. This extra resistance to correction through simple techniques is part of what makes conspiracy theories distinctively worrisome. 

 

Covid has really made this all too clear to me. Far too many people I know said for months (and some still say this!) that Covid deaths are exaggerated by hospitals, so they can get more money. And the same people also say that vaccines are really dangerous, more dangerous than Covid. I have tried to debunk, using credible information from reliable sources. But, of course, these sources are disbelieved. For that matter, my wife’s personal experience caring for Covid patients for the last 17 months can’t be trusted either. This particularly veers into conspiracy theory territory there - even my wife is somehow part of the conspiracy, or willfully blind to it. (And sure, those 70 hour weeks she worked were imagined. As were the dozens of deaths in her unit from Covid.) Sunstein cites Carl Popper for part of why this happens. 

 

The philosopher Carl Popper famously argued that conspiracy theories overlook the pervasive unintended consequences of political and social action; they assume that all consequences must have been intended by someone. 

 

The illusion of control makes this idea attractive. The world is scary if most of the bad things that happen aren’t the result of malevolence, but just chance and unintended consequences. In the case of Covid, what we had was a virus that (most scientists agree) jumped from an animal to humans - as Coronaviruses have twice previously in the last 20 years, and numerous times in human history - and did what viruses do: reproduce themselves. That’s scary, and difficult to control. When Covid came to the US, right wingers were in a bind. It is indisputable from the public health perspective that the Trump Administration and Trump himself totally fucked up the response. From failing to quarantine returning tourists (Trump excluded Chinese nationals, but let Americans returning from Wuhan and other infected areas enter without tests or quarantine) to downplaying the virus, to making masks a political statement, to getting vaccinated yet feeding antivax sentiments, to tossing out President Obama’s pandemic response plan, to leaving positions at FEMA and the CDC unfilled, to publicly feuding with his own health officials, to exposing the Secret Service to his infection so he could make a public appearance. It was a total shitshow, and anyone willing to look can see that. (Trump has his malevolence, and he feeds hate with his rhetoric, but he is also grossly incompetent at everything he does except TV and demagoguery.) But a right winger can’t fess up and admit that they fucked us all over by voting for him. So, they have to blame people like my wife and Anthony Fauci and local authorities following CDC guidelines rather than accept responsibility for the damage and death they caused. 

 

Sunstein also notes that susceptibility to conspiracy theories isn’t evenly distributed throughout the population. Willingness to believe one conspiracy corresponds with a likelihood of believing other conspiracy theories, even if the theories conflict. “In other words, a willingness to believe in conspiracy theories is the master concept, organizing particular beliefs.” 

 

I mentioned some of this in my recent post on The Paranoid Style in American Politics. It is no surprise to me that my former tribe of white Evangelicals has gone in bigtime for both Covid and Q Anon conspiracies. The whole outlook (dare I use the triggering term “worldview”?) is conspiracy oriented and paranoid. Sunstein makes a brief mention of his discussion in Dissent, about the self-selection that occurs in extremist groups.

 

A crippled epistemology can arise not only from informational and reputational dynamics but also from self-selection of members into and out of groups with extreme views. Once cascades arise or polarization occurs, and the group’s view begins to move in a certain direction, skeptics and partial believers will tend to depart, while intense believers remain. The overall size of the group may shrink, but the group may also pick up new believers who are even more committed. By self-selection, the remaining members will display more fanaticism. 

 

And lo, this is exactly what has happened to white Evangelicalism, and the Religious Right and the GOP generally over my lifetime. 

 

The other essays are interesting. Perhaps my favorite was the next one, entitled “The Second Bill of Rights,” which takes a look at FDR and his proposal for a second - economic and social - bill of rights. I was aware of this idea, and of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that Eleanor Roosevelt advocated for, but it was fascinating to see this in context. 

 

FDR was on to something with this proposal and the speech which introduced it. Essentially, while defeating fascism was important, merely surviving brutal wars was not enough, and the problem would keep coming back - domestically - if steps were not taken to increase security. And by increasing security, FDR didn’t mean the current GOP version of bombing everyone else into oblivion, but in providing the economic and social security and well-being that would prevent both fascism and communism from looking attractive to Americans and their global neighbors. 

 

As FDR put it, “essential to peace is a decent standard of living for all individual men and woman and children in all nations. Freedom from fear is eternally linked with freedom from want.” 

 

While acknowledging that the original bill of rights had important freedoms - free press, free speech, free worship, jury trials, and so on - these were not enough. A person who has to work most of their non-sleeping time to avoid starvation, while their labor mostly benefits the rich, is not truly free. Likewise, a person who cannot find employment isn’t free to do anything but starve. Roosevelt listed what he believed were the essential additional human rights:

 

The right to a useful and remunerative job.

The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation.

The right of farmers to raise and sell his products at a return sufficient to give him and his family a decent living.

The right of every businessman, large or small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad. 

The right of every family to a decent home.

The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health. 

The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment.

The right to a good education. 

 

I am shocked that these ideas are controversial to such a high percentage of our country. Apparently, in the richest country in history, some people (dog whistle: brown people) should just accept that they will not earn a decent living while working, that they have no right to expect food, clothing, housing and [gasp!!] recreation. That they should just go without medical care. That if they get sick, too damn bad. And don’t expect to get affordable college either. We are a cruel, cruel nation. 

 

Later, the National Resources Planning Board (as part of its assignment) added a few details, such as the equal access to justice not just in word but in fact, and the right to have time to rest and enjoy life. (Aka, the pursuit of happiness…) The Universal Declaration of Human Rights would include specifically the “right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age, or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.” And also the “right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favorable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment.” 

 

Can you imagine how horrible that would be? Actually, it isn’t that hard. Most of the rest of the first world does a far better job than we do at coming close to that idea. My view of the United States was changed dramatically by talking with European tourists while visiting national parks from my teens on. They don’t worry about going bankrupt from medical bills. They get extended vacation time - even low-level employees. They worry a lot less about being laid off. They don’t have tens of thousands of dollars of student debt. Dystopia indeed. 

 

Ironically, the idea of Freedom from Want as an essential freedom - and an issue of national security - came from the United States. But we have largely abandoned it, starting with Goldwater and Reagan. Sunstein points out that FDR was right: when people are kept in want and fear of want, they are more susceptible to the appeals of fascists, who tell them to blame, not bad government austerity policies, but those impoverished “other people.” 

 

I’ll just mention a few other chapters that were interesting, but for which I don’t have specific quotes. 

 

Chapter Three is on the use of cost-benefit analyses in public policy, particularly as applied to determining which risks are worth spending to mitigate. In essence, to separate the emotions of risk from the reality. Sunstein notes some specific ways in which humans are terrible at thinking through risk. 

 

Here is an example: when researchers had people decide how much they would be willing to pay to insure against the cancellation of a vacation, they were willing to pay MORE for a policy that only covered acts of terrorism and LESS for one that covered ALL risks. That is mathematically idiotic, of course. “All causes” includes terrorism. But “terrorism” evokes more emotion, than, say, the much higher risk of getting sick before a vacation. This explains things like why we spent trillions of dollars bombing and occupying other countries to ostensibly mitigate the risk of terrorism (which kills fairly few people, and most of the killers are domestic right wingers, not foreign), while we accept that tens of thousands of Americans will die from lack of adequate health coverage each year. But terrorism makes the news and evokes an emotional response, while impoverished diabetics dying at home don’t. 

 

“The Laws of Happiness” is primarily about a legal question: how much should a person receive for disability or pain and suffering. Sunstein’s thesis is that we can actually find evidence of how happy people consider themselves, and that this can shed light on some injustices in how we compensate for injury. For example, loss of a finger or toe turns out to have very little long term impact on happiness. People adjust, and go on with a decent life. But jury awards tend to be very high for those. In Sunstein’s view, we are overcompensating for those injuries. On the other hand, chronic pain has a substantially negative effect on happiness, and humans are unable to be happy while in constant pain. (Who knew?) Despite this, jury awards for expected chronic pain tend to be shockingly low. Sunstein suggests that maybe we should reverse those. I know, that’s such crazy commie stuff. 

 

“The Rights of Animals” makes a solid argument that animals do have some rights - specifically, the right to be free from needless suffering and pain, and that our laws should reflect that better than they do. He is not a vegan, and is hardly making a crazy argument here, like that pet ownership is immoral. Rather, he finds a middle ground that he defends pretty well. 

 

The chapter on marriage makes an argument in favor of same-sex marriage (before Obergefell - but the opinion used a lot of the same reasoning). I think the most interesting part is his look at the various benefits that marriage grants its participants, which really helps distinguish why our system doesn’t lend itself well to polygamist relationships. I think this is a necessary thing to think through. I have written already about how the Religious Right’s use of the bogeyman of polygamy is ludicrous - the most “traditional” version of marriage is polygyny. Thus, the argument against it is hardly a religious one, but a social one: rich men taking all the young women (who rarely have meaningful choice in the matter) is not good for society. And, in Sunstein’s argument, the specific financial and social benefits the law accords to marriages do not translate well to more than two parties, and thus would require rewriting vast amounts of our laws and changing our financial, healthcare, and other social structures dramatically. Same-sex marriage does none of these things. 

 

I particularly liked Sunstein’s observation on why “traditionalism” makes a bad foundation for most legal questions. 

 

Some members of the Supreme Court have been drawn to constitutional traditionalism simply as a way of disciplining themselves - of limiting judicial discretion. If judges follow traditions, they will not have to ask hard questions about basic values, and if judges are not good at answering such questions, traditionalism will have considerable appeal. An initial objection to this approach is that traditions are not self-defining; they do not come prepackaged for easy identification. It is tempting to object that traditionalism is a charade, in which the key value judgment - how should the tradition be defined? - ends up doing all the work. 

 

I can think specifically of the way that regulation of sex in the United States changed dramatically from our founding, and thus Roe v. Wade is actually a return to the laws at our founding, before they were co-opted by religious bigots in the 1800s. And, of course, the fact that slavery and segregation are both “traditional” does not make them a valid basis for constitutional interpretation in the 21st Century. 

 

I should also mention how much I like the chapter “Sex Equality Versus Religious Freedom.” It is a thorough discussion which concludes, like I do, that religious freedom cannot discriminate on the basis of sex any more than it can on the basis of race, at least outside of the church itself. Sunstein points out that for some reason, we seem to accept gender bigotry far more than we do racism or other forms of illegal exclusion. This is, of course, one reason I have left organized religion. In practice, it seems to be mostly an excuse for tribalism and particularly the subjugation of women. And that goes for pretty nearly every religion in existence. 

 

And that leads me to the chapter on what Sunstein calls “New Progressivism.” It’s an interesting chapter, and certainly makes it clear that Sunstein is pretty conservative. I find I am to his left on a few things, although I would be happy to vote for someone like him in many cases. In a functional country, he would be the right-leaning party guru, and the current fascists and social darwinists in the Trump/GQP party would be on the lunatic fringe. 

 

Particularly notable in this chapter is an observation that others have made, and I think applies around the globe. 

 

For developing and wealthy countries alike, an end to sex-based inequality is an especially high priority. With respect to many problems - HIV/AIDS, crime, economic growth, overpopulation - there are few higher priorities. Indeed, any generalized attack on poverty must be combined with an attack on sex inequality. The two problems are closely intermingled.

 

It is not accident that the Bible Belt is known for its third-world level poverty and inequality. The resistance to sex equality is a huge factor in keeping it that way. (As is the overt racism and white supremacy and commitment to social darwinist economic policies, of course. But the sexism is a key part of that.) 

 

The final two chapters are on the related concepts of minimalism and “trimming.” Both of these are inherently conservative approaches to problems. Minimalism decides as little as necessary for a particular question, while “trimming” is related to the nautical term - making changes in trim to keep equilibrium. In other words, avoiding dramatic changes, and trying to keep a balance. Both chapters go through arguments for and against, and look at when they are good and not, and so on. Sunstein doesn’t so much argue that minimalism or trimming are the best approaches, but suggests that in some cases, they lead to a better consensus, and less polarization. Consider it more of an intellectual exploration of ideas, rather than an ideological prescription. 

 

One interesting idea related to minimalism is that humans can often agree on the desired result, but disagree vehemently on the underlying theory. Sometimes, consensus can be reached by glossing the ideologies and agreeing on an action. 

 

It seems clear that people can often agree on legal and political practices, and even on constitutional rights, when they cannot agree on underlying theories. In other words, well-functioning social orders try to solve problems through incompletely theorized agreements. 

 

I actually do this quite a bit in negotiating divorce settlements. We can often come to a result by changing why we are moving this money, without actually changing the net amounts. Sunstein applies this in particular to cases where a society seeks moral evolution and progress. A completely theorized judgment would be unable to accommodate changes. 

 

If a culture really did attain a theoretical end state, it would become rigid and calcified; we would know what we thought about everything.

 

Hey wait! That’s actually literally exactly how Evangelicalism is right now. They know what they think about everything, and thus cannot evolve. They are rigid and calcified, and cannot adapt. Which explains both why they are losing the next generations and why they are furiously and violently trying to retain their power. 

 

So that’s what’s in this book. Lots of interesting ideas. Solid analysis. Openness to other ideas and to being wrong. An inherent conservatism that isn’t ideological but merely cautious. Clearly the devil incarnate…