For those of you who have not heard through the grapevine or the lentil tree, let me begin this long belated post by informing you all that my wife and I will be moving back to Georgia in January. Indeed and verily. I have learned much about myself coming to Oxford, and foremost among my learning is that I do not want to pursue economics professionally. So rather than staying the two years fully aware that I do not want to use this degree for the furtherance of my career (as I erstwhile presumed), we are coming home! I think a job would do me some good to really figure out what to spend the rest of my vocational life doing. Life is full of surprises indeed.
But rather than explain in full to those who already know or those who just don't care, that's all for now. If you want further explanation and storytelling, feel free to email me for the full story.
Having come here expecting two years of good English fun, it is a bit disappointing to leave, but we have had some absolutely lovely little happenings even in this short amount of time. Therein lies the topic of this post. This will be very random, very jumpy, and very JP, for sure. I hope this gives a more complete taste of Britain than did my previous post.
Oxford colleges - 38 bundles of joy with 6 stepsiblings
One of the most distinguishing aspects of Oxford is its colleges. There are 38 of them and an additional 6 private halls, separated because they are religious (which is rather ironic, since nearly all of the colleges were originally founded for the study of religion). But rather than try to describe them all, I like to cluster them into little subgroups based on common traits. There is a bit of overlap, but that's ok. Here is how I think of them:
1) The really old and/or beautiful colleges - this includes, among many others, Merton, Magdalen, Exeter, University, Balliol, and New (one of the oldest, actually). These are the colleges with the most character in my opinion. You should definitely visit them.
2) The uber-rich - a sampling of those with the biggest coffers includes St John's (over £300 million!), All Souls, Nuffield, Queen's, Brasenose, and several others. There's a lot of money floating around Oxford.
3) The Eton boys - let's face it, some colleges have reputations that precede them. I'd prefer not to say which ones though, for fear of my life. Although I must mention one: All Souls. My friend tried to visit there once. He poked his head in the main door and asked the porter if he could look around. The porter responded, "This is All Souls." If that's not snobby, I don't know what is.
4) Jesus and his buddies - as I said, religion was sort of a big deal for many colleges way back in the day: we have Jesus, Christ Church, Corpus Christi (that means body of Christ, if you didn't know), Trinity, St John's, St Catherine's, St Anne's, St Antony's (my college), St Cross, though I do find it funny that the cross is a saint, St Hugh's, St Peter's, and one or two of the private halls.
I assure you that all the colleges, upon their founding, were very concerned about which of these groups they would join.
There is a joke that I enjoy about Christ Church, though I think it could equally apply to other colleges:
How many Christ Church students does it take to screw in a light bulb? 2 - one to call the porter and the other to get suits made for the occasion.
Beware the fire alarm - a tale of dread and disaster
Once upon a time, my college anounced it would have a fire drill. They didn't say when, just which day it would occur. So one morning having just exited the shower, the alarm goes off. My wife was still in her pj's, and I was chillin' with my towel. Knowing it was a drill, neither of us was very keen to run outside half-dressed into the lovely nearly freezing drizzle of England. But while were trying to get quickly dressed, in comes one of the porters right into our flat (blasted master keys).
"YOU COULD BE DEAD!!! YOU COULD BE DEAD!!! YOU COULD BE DEAD!!!" is what greeted us. I kid you not, he shouted it with great perturbation on his face at least ten times, as if we didn't get the point. I really wanted to shout back, "GET OUT OF MY FLAT!!! GET OUT OF MY FLAT!!!" but decided against it. It was very troubling, though.
Now, for the most part, the porters are extremely friendly, happy people, and I like them a lot. But on that morning, this guy was a bit too worked up. I wanted to understand, but everyone knew it was a test, so no one was in a huge hurry to get out of the building, especially half-naked. If the fire alarm went off without warning (as it did for a different test), we would have been much quicker (and we were). Some may say that it's all for the sake of safety, but if that were the case, and they really wanted a quick response and lifelike trial, they wouldn't have had us gather right next to the building (many people were actually leaning against the building). All I have to say is "YOU COULD BE DEAD FROM THE BURNING BUILDING FALLING ON YOUR HEAD!!!" but they didn't seem to care about that possibility.
So beware fire drills.
Walking - the most dangerous thing I have done here (while on the topic of danger)
Using my legs, for a change, has been quite invigorating. I went from walking probably less than 400 yards a day in Georgia to 4 or 5 miles or more a day here in Oxford. It's really nice. That is, if no one is on the sidewalk. If there are two things that stand out about people's manners here, they are that 1) the homeless are extremely friendly and kind and 2) the walkers will run you over without even acknowledging that they have done so. I don't know if they are ridiculous tourists, students, natives, or some of each, but at least twice a week I am slammed into by an extremely rude person who then continues on without the slightest acknowledgement. One time I was honestly pushed into the front wall of store. And even the elderly do it! It's unbelievable. At first I thought I was just really bad at walking, even though I had never struggled with this before. But then it happened a few times when I truly could not have evaded my attacker, and then I knew it wasn't me. Truly bizarre I say.
Aside from those couple times a week, though, walking is fun, except when it's raining and you are carrying groceries. That's really rubbish.
Another thing about walking is that everyone walks with their heads down, staring at the ground (potentially linked to the first problem, though the people plowing through the sidewalks do so even while looking up). For awhile this perplexed me, and given how beautiful the city is, I found it all the more remarkable. I wondered about it one time to my wife, though, and she of course knew the answer. The answer is simple, actually: it's really cold. So everyone wants to cover as much of his face as possible in a warm scarf. Problem solved.
Tweed - the fabric of the ages
Tweed is amazing. I love it. All the professors wear them. Some are truly hideous, strange shades of green or orange. But others are just right, like the ones I got from some good friends just before coming here!
Well-learned coffee shops
The other day I was talking about Swedish with my friend, just your average, everyday conversation. Being a bit overconfident and completely unsure, I postulated that Swedish was, like Finnish, in a different family from the other Scandinavian languages. The fellow sitting just behind my friend then turned around and said, "Actually, you are completely wrong. You couldn't be further from the truth." Never get bold about things you don't know in the Blackwell's coffee shop.
He was wearing tweed, of course.
I actually later ran into the same fellow and found out he came there often to read the work of one of his PhD students. This man was a professor in Armenian Studies, specializing in literature (though he knew a fair bit of linguistics). And the work he was reading was by a 75 year old retired judge. That's awesome. We should all get PhDs in Armenian studies at 75.
Bookstores
One of my favorite things about Oxford is its numerous bookstores. Only here can you find entire bookshelves devoted to Beowulf. That makes me immensely happy.
About a week ago, I picked up a pristine copy of Longfellow's complete poetical works in a used book store. It was published in 1882, the year he died. It has a padded cover. It has inscriptions on the flyleaf that I can't read because they are so nicely written by folks long gone. And best of all, it was only £6. Amazing.
Other
Mincemeat is a sweet mixture of fruit.
There's an El Greco hanging in New College chapel, barely marked, as if it were nothing.
Organs
There are absolutely astounding organs in Oxford. Two of my favorites are in Jesus and Exeter colleges. I often stop by to see if anyone is practicing. It never hurts to have a good rumbling; it's sort of like having all the kinks in your bones popped all at once. Makes me feel like butter.
Well, that's about it.
Oh and some friends made us "toad in the hole" for dinner the other night. It was superb.
A Taste of Britain
So yeah, it's been ages since I posted. Things have been a bit hectic. And while I have a number of ideas for upcoming posts, I still do not have the time right now to write any of them out. But since people seem to stop by the site regardless (much obliged am I), I thought I would post something uniquely British.
This video basically sums up my entire experience here in Britain. Enjoy!
A Taste of Britain
This video basically sums up my entire experience here in Britain. Enjoy!
A Taste of Britain
He's a Regular
On Cornmarket Street, at the very center of Oxford, there has arisen a funny situation. At one end, in a lovely old building straight out of medieval England, there is a restaurant called Prêt à Manger. As the name implies, they sell food that is “ready to eat,” pre-made and packaged on the shelf. So you walk in, search the shelf for whatever sandwich you desire, and take it up to the check out. These ready-made sandwiches are wildly popular here and are sold all over the place. But what is particularly funny is that at the other end of Cornmarket Street, just a 30 second walk away (it’s a small street), is another Prêt à Manger. Same deal – same prepackaged sandwiches, same overpriced chips, the whole shebang.
This scene made me think of a similar one in Edinburgh that I could not help noticing when I was there a few summers back. Walking along Princess Street in the new section of the city, at every corner I came to a guy holding a sign pointing down the intersecting street that said “Pizza Hut this way.” I kid you not, at one point I passed three or four consecutive streets, each one block apart, at which a Pizza Hut man was seen lurking. And looking down each street as I walked by, sure enough, there was a Pizza Hut.
The phenomenon of the uber-popular fast food establishments in Europe astonishes me, whether it is Pizza Hut or the healthier Prêt. It amazes me because it is completely unnecessary. Here in Oxford, there are so many options just a minute or two walk away from each Prêt where you can get a whole baguette sandwich, much tastier, much more filling, and just all around more excellent than the Prêt sandwiches for the same price or less. And what really doesn’t make sense to me, is that there are two Sainsbury’s (the local grocery) within five minutes of the Prêts (and one is about fifteen seconds from the northern Prêt), which sell the same sandwiches sold at Prêt for much cheaper. So here are the options: Prêt, with its overpriced normal sandwiches, Sainsbury’s, with the same sandwiches for cheaper, or the local baguette place with better food for the same price or cheaper than Prêt. It doesn’t seem to be a hard decision, but I guess it is, given the crowds that I always see in Prêt.
Needless to say, I ate at Prêt once, and I do not intend to ever return. It wasn’t hard for me to find a place I enjoyed much more, and to me, there is more that rides on sandwich choice than mere gastronomy. Where you choose to dine can add entire new dimensions to the experience you have, wherever you live. While I always enjoy good food, I am equally enthralled with the idea of becoming a “regular.” But some places are much more worthy of regularity than others. Regularity is like beautiful decorations adorning a house: if the house is ugly, the decorations only make the house uglier. Likewise, regularity should be paired with food and atmosphere that are worthy of note.
On Holywell Street, there is this little establishment called the ATS, the Alternative Tuck Shop. It provides an alternative (obviously) to the original Tuck Shop, which is just down the street, though the original seems to be mostly a newspaper shop, not a tuck shop. The ATS is tiny; you cannot eat in the place, just order and take out. But it has the most amazing sandwiches and paninis around. Whether you want chicken satay or tikka; turkey, brie, and cranberry; the avocado melt; chicken pesto; or any of the huge assortment of more common sandwiches; this place has it all. And to top it off, all their bread is homemade and simply scrumptious.
This has become my local noontide haunt when I dine out for lunch. And in consistently choosing it for lunch, I have become a regular. The same guys work there every day, and amidst the huge demand (there is always a long line out the door), they still always have time to ask how I’ve been doing lately. Being a regular is one of those pleasures that makes you feel like you have actually become part of the establishment. You are no longer the visiting foreigner; you have become a local. This opportunity has been most gratifying to me; indeed, it is this sort of thing that I know I will recall in my old age with great fondness: “You remember that little ATS place with the amazing chicken satay? Those were the days.” Being a regular there almost makes me proud, like I am a representative for a worthy cause, and eating at the ATS is surely a worthy cause. The food and unique atmosphere are exceptional, and I doubt I will find another sandwich shop so worthy anytime soon.
And no adventure is complete without also becoming a regular at some coffee shop. Coffee shops have always been my favorite place to sit down and relax, study, or write, and this is no different in Oxford. In fact, I am writing this blog in a coffee shop, and by my estimations, the best one in Oxford. Here I am in Caffè Nero in Blackwell’s Bookshop, the largest bookstore I have ever encountered. I can’t imagine a more heavenly coffee shop. It is always abuzz with the eager chatter of undergrads and the elderly alike. There is this one man I always see here and you can always here him talking with his companion (generally one other man in particular) about some sort of philosophical topic. There are always the homework doers scattered about at tables and the bibliophiles in the comfortable chairs. And almost every book you could ever want to read is right at your fingertips to peruse and enjoy without the need to purchase, but in a much more lovely environment than the local library. Ah yes, it is wonderful. Here too I have become a regular, spending many afternoons with a cup of coffee (or water, when the coffee money has reached its budgeted allowance), reading, writing, or working.
But this is a different sort of regularity. Though the baristas may recognize me, the homeliness that arises here is in its lazy atmosphere and the smells and sounds of coffee and book lovers. Stress disappears in this place and all is happiness, coffee, and books, which are all, of course, exactly the same thing.
Being a regular, then, can take different forms. It can mean familiarity with food, knowing the workers, or it can simply be feeling as if you are in your home away from home. Whichever way regularity is manifested, it is one of those joys that needs to be cherished and recognized, for sometimes it can pass you by if it is never acknowledged. I know I will always be an American, so I will never truly be at home abroad, but this is a major step and perhaps the most important for me. So if you can’t find me, I’m probably at Blackwell’s or coming there from the ATS. It’s good to be a regular again.
This scene made me think of a similar one in Edinburgh that I could not help noticing when I was there a few summers back. Walking along Princess Street in the new section of the city, at every corner I came to a guy holding a sign pointing down the intersecting street that said “Pizza Hut this way.” I kid you not, at one point I passed three or four consecutive streets, each one block apart, at which a Pizza Hut man was seen lurking. And looking down each street as I walked by, sure enough, there was a Pizza Hut.
The phenomenon of the uber-popular fast food establishments in Europe astonishes me, whether it is Pizza Hut or the healthier Prêt. It amazes me because it is completely unnecessary. Here in Oxford, there are so many options just a minute or two walk away from each Prêt where you can get a whole baguette sandwich, much tastier, much more filling, and just all around more excellent than the Prêt sandwiches for the same price or less. And what really doesn’t make sense to me, is that there are two Sainsbury’s (the local grocery) within five minutes of the Prêts (and one is about fifteen seconds from the northern Prêt), which sell the same sandwiches sold at Prêt for much cheaper. So here are the options: Prêt, with its overpriced normal sandwiches, Sainsbury’s, with the same sandwiches for cheaper, or the local baguette place with better food for the same price or cheaper than Prêt. It doesn’t seem to be a hard decision, but I guess it is, given the crowds that I always see in Prêt.
Needless to say, I ate at Prêt once, and I do not intend to ever return. It wasn’t hard for me to find a place I enjoyed much more, and to me, there is more that rides on sandwich choice than mere gastronomy. Where you choose to dine can add entire new dimensions to the experience you have, wherever you live. While I always enjoy good food, I am equally enthralled with the idea of becoming a “regular.” But some places are much more worthy of regularity than others. Regularity is like beautiful decorations adorning a house: if the house is ugly, the decorations only make the house uglier. Likewise, regularity should be paired with food and atmosphere that are worthy of note.
On Holywell Street, there is this little establishment called the ATS, the Alternative Tuck Shop. It provides an alternative (obviously) to the original Tuck Shop, which is just down the street, though the original seems to be mostly a newspaper shop, not a tuck shop. The ATS is tiny; you cannot eat in the place, just order and take out. But it has the most amazing sandwiches and paninis around. Whether you want chicken satay or tikka; turkey, brie, and cranberry; the avocado melt; chicken pesto; or any of the huge assortment of more common sandwiches; this place has it all. And to top it off, all their bread is homemade and simply scrumptious.
This has become my local noontide haunt when I dine out for lunch. And in consistently choosing it for lunch, I have become a regular. The same guys work there every day, and amidst the huge demand (there is always a long line out the door), they still always have time to ask how I’ve been doing lately. Being a regular is one of those pleasures that makes you feel like you have actually become part of the establishment. You are no longer the visiting foreigner; you have become a local. This opportunity has been most gratifying to me; indeed, it is this sort of thing that I know I will recall in my old age with great fondness: “You remember that little ATS place with the amazing chicken satay? Those were the days.” Being a regular there almost makes me proud, like I am a representative for a worthy cause, and eating at the ATS is surely a worthy cause. The food and unique atmosphere are exceptional, and I doubt I will find another sandwich shop so worthy anytime soon.
And no adventure is complete without also becoming a regular at some coffee shop. Coffee shops have always been my favorite place to sit down and relax, study, or write, and this is no different in Oxford. In fact, I am writing this blog in a coffee shop, and by my estimations, the best one in Oxford. Here I am in Caffè Nero in Blackwell’s Bookshop, the largest bookstore I have ever encountered. I can’t imagine a more heavenly coffee shop. It is always abuzz with the eager chatter of undergrads and the elderly alike. There is this one man I always see here and you can always here him talking with his companion (generally one other man in particular) about some sort of philosophical topic. There are always the homework doers scattered about at tables and the bibliophiles in the comfortable chairs. And almost every book you could ever want to read is right at your fingertips to peruse and enjoy without the need to purchase, but in a much more lovely environment than the local library. Ah yes, it is wonderful. Here too I have become a regular, spending many afternoons with a cup of coffee (or water, when the coffee money has reached its budgeted allowance), reading, writing, or working.
But this is a different sort of regularity. Though the baristas may recognize me, the homeliness that arises here is in its lazy atmosphere and the smells and sounds of coffee and book lovers. Stress disappears in this place and all is happiness, coffee, and books, which are all, of course, exactly the same thing.
Being a regular, then, can take different forms. It can mean familiarity with food, knowing the workers, or it can simply be feeling as if you are in your home away from home. Whichever way regularity is manifested, it is one of those joys that needs to be cherished and recognized, for sometimes it can pass you by if it is never acknowledged. I know I will always be an American, so I will never truly be at home abroad, but this is a major step and perhaps the most important for me. So if you can’t find me, I’m probably at Blackwell’s or coming there from the ATS. It’s good to be a regular again.
Whoa Random
So to break up things a bit, here are some interesting facts for your amusement:
- Ligers exist; yes, you heard me correctly. Napoleon Dynamite did not actually make them up, much to my amazement. A liger is a cross between a male lion and a female tiger. Wikipedia says so.
- The Great Wall of China is actually NOT visible to the unaided eye from space, even in low earth orbit.
- The word dord was included for five years in Webster's Dictionary starting in 1934. Unfortunately, this word does not exist.
- Chop Suey, a classic Chinese dish, is American in origin and literally means "odds and ends"
- Neil Armstrong intended to say, "That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind," which would have made a lot more sense than what he really said. When he saw his quote in the newspapers, he verified this.
- You can work out the temperature by counting how many times crickets are chirping outside, though I can't tell you the exact relationship.
- There's some guy in Australia who calls himself Prince Leonard and he rules over a self-proclaimed principality called the Hutt River Province - they even have their own currency! And the Aussie government seems to be okay with it!
Well, bedtime for me. Hope you have enjoyed these random facts.
- Ligers exist; yes, you heard me correctly. Napoleon Dynamite did not actually make them up, much to my amazement. A liger is a cross between a male lion and a female tiger. Wikipedia says so.
- The Great Wall of China is actually NOT visible to the unaided eye from space, even in low earth orbit.
- The word dord was included for five years in Webster's Dictionary starting in 1934. Unfortunately, this word does not exist.
- Chop Suey, a classic Chinese dish, is American in origin and literally means "odds and ends"
- Neil Armstrong intended to say, "That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind," which would have made a lot more sense than what he really said. When he saw his quote in the newspapers, he verified this.
- You can work out the temperature by counting how many times crickets are chirping outside, though I can't tell you the exact relationship.
- There's some guy in Australia who calls himself Prince Leonard and he rules over a self-proclaimed principality called the Hutt River Province - they even have their own currency! And the Aussie government seems to be okay with it!
Well, bedtime for me. Hope you have enjoyed these random facts.
Christianity and Pluralism
In my last post I addressed the problems I see with relativism, and my main point was to show that there must be absolute truth. However, I in no way attempted to prove that this absolute truth is found in the Bible, the Qur’an, or any other particular holy book. So in this post I intend to discuss the implications of our results concerning Christianity. In particular, I want to address the possibility of absolute truth being found in more than one religion. As I have previously been in the habit of writing overly long introductions, this time I have limited myself for your sake. So let’s dive right in!
I find very often that those who most despise Christianity have met an unfortunate lot of Christians in their times. Sadly, especially in America, it is much easier to meet the “wrong” lot of Christians than the “right” one, so it is not surprising to me at all that one of Christianity’s deepest wounds is self-inflicted. Let me explain what I mean, so as not to come across as some pompous elitist. A very quick internet search tells me that roughly 75% of Americans as of 2004 claimed to be Christian (see, e.g., this website). This seems about right to me, but the exact number is unimportant. The vital fact is that a clear majority of Americans say they are Christians, and in the South, my homeland, I would bet the numbers are even higher. But what do most of them actually mean when they say this? I would claim that a large portion of them do not actually mean that they believe even the central tenet of Christianity, but rather that they believe there is a God, they go to church occasionally for Christmas and Easter, and that they feel like they are basically good people. The reason I believe this is because in my experience, young though I may be, more and more I meet people who claim to be Christians and also say that other religions are just as valid. Even more, not only have I heard rumor of this same sort of doctrine being taught from pulpits, but I could actually give names of a number of large churches who preach these ideas. Some of you may be confused as to why this is a problem and how it relates to people disliking Christianity, so let me explain.
First, to be specific about why many people find Christianity distasteful (in my experience), when someone calls himself a Christian he creates a certain image, which depends on who is listening. But one thing is sure, if that person were to go read what Jesus had to say, they would expect that the Christian at least vaguely upheld the morality taught by Jesus, since that is who the person is claiming to follow. This is a just and right expectation. Unfortunately, many people claiming to be Christian simply do not attempt to live by the standards in which they claim to believe. So, again very justly, many are compelled to view Christians as hypocrites from the onset.
I believe that this problem has strong roots in intellectual sloth. Namely, I think a main cause of the hypocritical-Christian image is the growing belief that you can be a Christian while still acknowledging that other religions could be equally valid; few people seem to think through what this implies, though. Let’s explore the notion.
If you are convinced that Relativism is unacceptable logically, then the next step is to find the truth and to believe it. After all, no one wants to base his life on lies. So let’s say that you choose Christianity for whatever reason, but you are loath to say that your faith is any better than the others. This, I would claim, is in direct violation of itself, just as was Relativism. Christianity has a number of different denominations and sects, but fundamentally, all forms of Christianity revolve around Jesus (Christ-ianity). So if you don’t believe what he said, you cannot be considered his follower and therefore cannot be considered a Christian.
So what does he say? Jesus says in John 14:6, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” That is pretty absolutist if you ask me. Not only does he say he is the only way to God, he actually claims to be truth, and not just some truth, THE truth, truth embodied. So if you say you are a Christian, that is, a follower of Christ, you must accept that central point. If you don’t accept it, you simply are not a Christian, for as the name implies, being a Christian means following Christ, which obviously first requires belief in what Christ said. Likewise, if you say you are a Christian and also say that other religions are equally valid, what you are really saying is that you have not made up your mind. This is because to be a Christian means accepting Jesus’ teaching and his teaching makes it clear that no other religion will do. So you simply cannot be Christian and accept that other religion’s lead to God or to ultimate truth. And in my opinion, it is always better to be honest with yourself than to beat around the bush and merely confuse other people about what the word “Christian” means.
Now, some of you may be thinking that you don’t give a rat’s uncle about what I just said. And that is fine if you don’t claim to be a Christian. Indeed, if you are an atheist, or anything else, I think it is much nobler to say what you are and mean it than to say you are a Christian and not mean it. Titles mean nothing unless they are founded on some reality that matters. What I am trying to get across is that being a Christian is completely incompatible with pluralism, that is, the belief that (ultimate) truth is found in all or many religions. While I do believe there are elements of truth in most religions, as a Christian, if I really believe what I imply that I believe (and I do), then I must reject that other religions hold ultimate truth. For the basis of Christianity is that Jesus is the sole way to ultimate truth, to God, and no other religion is in accordance with this principle. And just like relativism, pluralism is self-refuting because it accepts all religions as equally valid in searching for truth, but Christianity, as one of its central tenets, requires exclusivity. Therefore pluralism must reject Christianity, and that obviously doesn’t work.
In summary therefore, to be a Christian is to forsake pluralism and to accept pluralism is to forsake Christianity. To do otherwise is to be completely confused as to what Christianity requires and to likely mislead others as to what Christianity requires. And since accepting pluralism requires forsaking Christianity, pluralism is nonsense.
So we have narrowed down the field a little bit I hope. I have attempted to show that relativism and pluralism are essentially the same animal, and that animal is constantly devouring itself. The main points I hope you have gleaned are that there really must be some form of absolute truth and that it is illogical to say all religions are equally correct or good at revealing that truth. I have not shown that Christianity must be better than the rest, however, and I doubt I will be able to do that very well any time soon, as I am still young, learning, and woefully under-read. But I hope you see, dear reader, that if there is truth and all ideas for finding that truth are unable to be equally good, then it is necessary that we make a decision. Relativism and pluralism are just fancy ways to procrastinate.
PS – being that this article is already long, I did not address a semi-common analogy for pluralism regarding an elephant and blindfolded religious founders – if you are familiar with this analogy and find it convincing, I will address it given your request; otherwise I will leave it until it merits discussion.
I find very often that those who most despise Christianity have met an unfortunate lot of Christians in their times. Sadly, especially in America, it is much easier to meet the “wrong” lot of Christians than the “right” one, so it is not surprising to me at all that one of Christianity’s deepest wounds is self-inflicted. Let me explain what I mean, so as not to come across as some pompous elitist. A very quick internet search tells me that roughly 75% of Americans as of 2004 claimed to be Christian (see, e.g., this website). This seems about right to me, but the exact number is unimportant. The vital fact is that a clear majority of Americans say they are Christians, and in the South, my homeland, I would bet the numbers are even higher. But what do most of them actually mean when they say this? I would claim that a large portion of them do not actually mean that they believe even the central tenet of Christianity, but rather that they believe there is a God, they go to church occasionally for Christmas and Easter, and that they feel like they are basically good people. The reason I believe this is because in my experience, young though I may be, more and more I meet people who claim to be Christians and also say that other religions are just as valid. Even more, not only have I heard rumor of this same sort of doctrine being taught from pulpits, but I could actually give names of a number of large churches who preach these ideas. Some of you may be confused as to why this is a problem and how it relates to people disliking Christianity, so let me explain.
First, to be specific about why many people find Christianity distasteful (in my experience), when someone calls himself a Christian he creates a certain image, which depends on who is listening. But one thing is sure, if that person were to go read what Jesus had to say, they would expect that the Christian at least vaguely upheld the morality taught by Jesus, since that is who the person is claiming to follow. This is a just and right expectation. Unfortunately, many people claiming to be Christian simply do not attempt to live by the standards in which they claim to believe. So, again very justly, many are compelled to view Christians as hypocrites from the onset.
I believe that this problem has strong roots in intellectual sloth. Namely, I think a main cause of the hypocritical-Christian image is the growing belief that you can be a Christian while still acknowledging that other religions could be equally valid; few people seem to think through what this implies, though. Let’s explore the notion.
If you are convinced that Relativism is unacceptable logically, then the next step is to find the truth and to believe it. After all, no one wants to base his life on lies. So let’s say that you choose Christianity for whatever reason, but you are loath to say that your faith is any better than the others. This, I would claim, is in direct violation of itself, just as was Relativism. Christianity has a number of different denominations and sects, but fundamentally, all forms of Christianity revolve around Jesus (Christ-ianity). So if you don’t believe what he said, you cannot be considered his follower and therefore cannot be considered a Christian.
So what does he say? Jesus says in John 14:6, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” That is pretty absolutist if you ask me. Not only does he say he is the only way to God, he actually claims to be truth, and not just some truth, THE truth, truth embodied. So if you say you are a Christian, that is, a follower of Christ, you must accept that central point. If you don’t accept it, you simply are not a Christian, for as the name implies, being a Christian means following Christ, which obviously first requires belief in what Christ said. Likewise, if you say you are a Christian and also say that other religions are equally valid, what you are really saying is that you have not made up your mind. This is because to be a Christian means accepting Jesus’ teaching and his teaching makes it clear that no other religion will do. So you simply cannot be Christian and accept that other religion’s lead to God or to ultimate truth. And in my opinion, it is always better to be honest with yourself than to beat around the bush and merely confuse other people about what the word “Christian” means.
Now, some of you may be thinking that you don’t give a rat’s uncle about what I just said. And that is fine if you don’t claim to be a Christian. Indeed, if you are an atheist, or anything else, I think it is much nobler to say what you are and mean it than to say you are a Christian and not mean it. Titles mean nothing unless they are founded on some reality that matters. What I am trying to get across is that being a Christian is completely incompatible with pluralism, that is, the belief that (ultimate) truth is found in all or many religions. While I do believe there are elements of truth in most religions, as a Christian, if I really believe what I imply that I believe (and I do), then I must reject that other religions hold ultimate truth. For the basis of Christianity is that Jesus is the sole way to ultimate truth, to God, and no other religion is in accordance with this principle. And just like relativism, pluralism is self-refuting because it accepts all religions as equally valid in searching for truth, but Christianity, as one of its central tenets, requires exclusivity. Therefore pluralism must reject Christianity, and that obviously doesn’t work.
In summary therefore, to be a Christian is to forsake pluralism and to accept pluralism is to forsake Christianity. To do otherwise is to be completely confused as to what Christianity requires and to likely mislead others as to what Christianity requires. And since accepting pluralism requires forsaking Christianity, pluralism is nonsense.
So we have narrowed down the field a little bit I hope. I have attempted to show that relativism and pluralism are essentially the same animal, and that animal is constantly devouring itself. The main points I hope you have gleaned are that there really must be some form of absolute truth and that it is illogical to say all religions are equally correct or good at revealing that truth. I have not shown that Christianity must be better than the rest, however, and I doubt I will be able to do that very well any time soon, as I am still young, learning, and woefully under-read. But I hope you see, dear reader, that if there is truth and all ideas for finding that truth are unable to be equally good, then it is necessary that we make a decision. Relativism and pluralism are just fancy ways to procrastinate.
PS – being that this article is already long, I did not address a semi-common analogy for pluralism regarding an elephant and blindfolded religious founders – if you are familiar with this analogy and find it convincing, I will address it given your request; otherwise I will leave it until it merits discussion.
Why I am not a moral relativist
This summer I read more history than I normally do (specifically, A World Lit Only By Fire by William Manchester, portions of The Story of Civilization by Will and Ariel Durant, and portions of Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West, all excellent reads), and these all stressed the repetition of history, how if we were better students of the past, we would often have much better foresight and wisdom concerning the present and future. Likewise, in the realm of thought, generation after generation struggles through many of the same issues as those who came before. It can be frustrating and a bit depressing if you enjoy tackling controversial issues. In reading or just puttering around thinking (as I am wont to do) I have many times arrived at the answer to some problem that had long perplexed me. In excitement I run and tell somebody, generally my wife or (prior) someone else in my family or both. Sometimes I’m shot down right there: “Oh yeah, I’ve come to that conclusion myself.” Other times I go through the rest of the day pleased about my new result only to see the same result much more concisely worded in whatever book I am reading that evening, written by someone long dead. Indeed, this pastime is itself a repetitive history that I should acknowledge.
So now I am trying to do just that. I bring up the issue, one, because it is interesting, and two because it directly applies to the subject I am about to address. I have finally admitted that any ideas I can think of have already been thought of, at least, in the realm of thoughts that matter. In fact, on the issue of relativism, the first contrary argument goes all the way back to Plato more than 2000 years ago. But as the general public does not often read Plato, every generation needs people to restate the same old ideas in the same old way. (It would be foolhardy to think that, though most ideas are old, my particular expression of them is wildly new and exciting.) Thus, all I undertake in the next few blogs is to restate some old ideas in the hope that some people may read this who have not encountered the ideas before.
So let’s begin, shall we?
According to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), ethical (or moral) relativism is defined as follows:
“the view that there are no universal or objective ethical standards; that each culture develops the ethical standards that it finds acceptable and that these cannot be judged by the ethical standards of another culture”
Relativism is particularly popular today as a manifestation of tolerance and political correctness. These are all well and good if they are meant to have people treat each other with dignity and respect. They are no different, in essence, from the Golden Rule. However, in the popular mind these ideas seem to have been conflated with the notion that just because everyone deserves respect, that everyone’s ideas are just as good as everyone else’s. This is obviously flawed, even disregarding ethical questions. If someone holds it to be true that 2+2=5, his idea of truth is simply untrue. We who know that 2+2=4 should still treat him with dignity and respect, but we should also strive to show him what is objectively true. This problem arises because we try to take principles from one area of human life (how to treat one another) and apply them to unrelated areas (defining the nature of truth). Another example is taking the scientific theory of evolution and applying it to philosophical topics like the meaning of life. Given that we have already seen evolution misapplied with Herbert Spencer’s ideas of Social Darwinism, which led to eugenics, we should really know better than to repeat our mistakes. So both logic and history show us that we should not so quickly apply our ideas of tolerance to our understanding of truth.
Now let’s apply the same thought process to ethics. If everyone’s ideas are equally valid, then we must admit that Hitler, Stalin, Milosevic, and Ceausescu were all justified in their deeds, so long as they thought their actions were fine. However even if these few had truly evil intentions and knew their actions were morally wrong, what about the average German soldier in WWII? If any of them were deceived by Hitler’s rhetoric and actually believed extermination of the Jews and gypsies and many others was good for humanity, then under relativism, the soldiers who carried out the extermination were not culpable. They believed it as truth that their race was superior, and therefore they exterminated the Jews. It was truth for them, so how could it be wrong? This, of course, would not sit well with many people, and perhaps the relativist would counter that in times of war, situations are so extreme and moral problems so vague, that relativism is unjustly debunked through them. Though this is false, I will offer other arguments instead.
So let’s consider moral relativism from another perspective. Personally, I find the argument for self-refutation the most convincing. As I referred to earlier, this argument is originally credited to Plato (from Theaetetus), though many have reapplied it over the years. Self-refutation just means that relativism is inherently contradictory, and that is what I try to depict in the following discussion.
For the sake of illustration let’s look at a brief discussion very similar to many I have had with friends of mine who are moral relativists:
Me – “I believe there is such a thing as absolute truth, that there are truths objectively true, regardless of upbringing, culture, or anything else.”
Relativist – “I disagree. All truth is relative to culture, upbringing, and individual experience. No one person can say his conception of truth is better than anyone else’s conception of truth.”
So the Relativist says all truth is relative to a set of things, and they could be anything. The point is that there is some framework for each individual and truth is only relative to that framework. But, as Plato pointed out, if what the Relativist says is TRUE, then he has asserted that there is at least one statement that is absolutely true relative to all frameworks. That is, the whole notion of relativism relies on the absolute truth of the statement uttered by the Relativist. If his statement is not true, obviously he cannot believe in his own theory. However, if his theory is correct then he has proved himself wrong, for he just stated that nothing has to be true relative to all frameworks.
Another way of thinking about it is that according to the Relativist, my statement about absolute truth is just as valid as his statement. He thinks that all frameworks are just as good as every other, but it is impossible for my framework to be on equal footing with his. Either there is absolute truth or there isn’t. Both of us cannot be correct at the same time. This, however, is a problem because according to the Relativist, it is not only possible but also essential that both he and I are equally correct. Therefore, since both of our claims cannot be simultaneously true, although his claim demands it be so, his claim contradicts itself and must therefore be false.
Most relativists are likely to reply that there must be an exception for their prime thesis, but if we make an exception here, why should we not make other exceptions? Making this one exception takes all solidity out of the argument and lets the whole philosophy morph into whatever it wills. In order for a philosophy to be coherent, we mustn’t make exceptions about its primal notion. Obviously, no exception needs to be made for the absolutist’s theory because it does not try, as a matter of thesis, to describe what is absolutely true; it simply says that there is absolute truth, and this does not contradict itself.
Well, although I intended to address some other issues, I believe this post is long enough. In closing, my entire argument can be summed up in one pithy statement by some British philosopher whose name I don’t recall:
“If someone tells you there is no such thing as truth, he’s asking you not to believe him, so don’t.”
So now I am trying to do just that. I bring up the issue, one, because it is interesting, and two because it directly applies to the subject I am about to address. I have finally admitted that any ideas I can think of have already been thought of, at least, in the realm of thoughts that matter. In fact, on the issue of relativism, the first contrary argument goes all the way back to Plato more than 2000 years ago. But as the general public does not often read Plato, every generation needs people to restate the same old ideas in the same old way. (It would be foolhardy to think that, though most ideas are old, my particular expression of them is wildly new and exciting.) Thus, all I undertake in the next few blogs is to restate some old ideas in the hope that some people may read this who have not encountered the ideas before.
So let’s begin, shall we?
According to the OED (Oxford English Dictionary), ethical (or moral) relativism is defined as follows:
“the view that there are no universal or objective ethical standards; that each culture develops the ethical standards that it finds acceptable and that these cannot be judged by the ethical standards of another culture”
Relativism is particularly popular today as a manifestation of tolerance and political correctness. These are all well and good if they are meant to have people treat each other with dignity and respect. They are no different, in essence, from the Golden Rule. However, in the popular mind these ideas seem to have been conflated with the notion that just because everyone deserves respect, that everyone’s ideas are just as good as everyone else’s. This is obviously flawed, even disregarding ethical questions. If someone holds it to be true that 2+2=5, his idea of truth is simply untrue. We who know that 2+2=4 should still treat him with dignity and respect, but we should also strive to show him what is objectively true. This problem arises because we try to take principles from one area of human life (how to treat one another) and apply them to unrelated areas (defining the nature of truth). Another example is taking the scientific theory of evolution and applying it to philosophical topics like the meaning of life. Given that we have already seen evolution misapplied with Herbert Spencer’s ideas of Social Darwinism, which led to eugenics, we should really know better than to repeat our mistakes. So both logic and history show us that we should not so quickly apply our ideas of tolerance to our understanding of truth.
Now let’s apply the same thought process to ethics. If everyone’s ideas are equally valid, then we must admit that Hitler, Stalin, Milosevic, and Ceausescu were all justified in their deeds, so long as they thought their actions were fine. However even if these few had truly evil intentions and knew their actions were morally wrong, what about the average German soldier in WWII? If any of them were deceived by Hitler’s rhetoric and actually believed extermination of the Jews and gypsies and many others was good for humanity, then under relativism, the soldiers who carried out the extermination were not culpable. They believed it as truth that their race was superior, and therefore they exterminated the Jews. It was truth for them, so how could it be wrong? This, of course, would not sit well with many people, and perhaps the relativist would counter that in times of war, situations are so extreme and moral problems so vague, that relativism is unjustly debunked through them. Though this is false, I will offer other arguments instead.
So let’s consider moral relativism from another perspective. Personally, I find the argument for self-refutation the most convincing. As I referred to earlier, this argument is originally credited to Plato (from Theaetetus), though many have reapplied it over the years. Self-refutation just means that relativism is inherently contradictory, and that is what I try to depict in the following discussion.
For the sake of illustration let’s look at a brief discussion very similar to many I have had with friends of mine who are moral relativists:
Me – “I believe there is such a thing as absolute truth, that there are truths objectively true, regardless of upbringing, culture, or anything else.”
Relativist – “I disagree. All truth is relative to culture, upbringing, and individual experience. No one person can say his conception of truth is better than anyone else’s conception of truth.”
So the Relativist says all truth is relative to a set of things, and they could be anything. The point is that there is some framework for each individual and truth is only relative to that framework. But, as Plato pointed out, if what the Relativist says is TRUE, then he has asserted that there is at least one statement that is absolutely true relative to all frameworks. That is, the whole notion of relativism relies on the absolute truth of the statement uttered by the Relativist. If his statement is not true, obviously he cannot believe in his own theory. However, if his theory is correct then he has proved himself wrong, for he just stated that nothing has to be true relative to all frameworks.
Another way of thinking about it is that according to the Relativist, my statement about absolute truth is just as valid as his statement. He thinks that all frameworks are just as good as every other, but it is impossible for my framework to be on equal footing with his. Either there is absolute truth or there isn’t. Both of us cannot be correct at the same time. This, however, is a problem because according to the Relativist, it is not only possible but also essential that both he and I are equally correct. Therefore, since both of our claims cannot be simultaneously true, although his claim demands it be so, his claim contradicts itself and must therefore be false.
Most relativists are likely to reply that there must be an exception for their prime thesis, but if we make an exception here, why should we not make other exceptions? Making this one exception takes all solidity out of the argument and lets the whole philosophy morph into whatever it wills. In order for a philosophy to be coherent, we mustn’t make exceptions about its primal notion. Obviously, no exception needs to be made for the absolutist’s theory because it does not try, as a matter of thesis, to describe what is absolutely true; it simply says that there is absolute truth, and this does not contradict itself.
Well, although I intended to address some other issues, I believe this post is long enough. In closing, my entire argument can be summed up in one pithy statement by some British philosopher whose name I don’t recall:
“If someone tells you there is no such thing as truth, he’s asking you not to believe him, so don’t.”
Introduction
I think it is impossible for anyone living in Oxford to completely ignore the vast amounts of philosophizing that occurs here. Personally, I am encountered with philosophical issues nearly every day, though I admit I seek them out. But people here sincerely seem to be looking for truth and wisdom. I think this is fantastic, though I often disagree with friends on how to execute this search.
I'm sure most of my readers know that I am religious, but I do like to think I at least have some sort of logical backing for much of what I believe. True, Christianity absolutely requires faith at some point, and faith requires belief in things unseen, unable to be experimentally verified. According to the Bible, faith is the essential element that we accept. Faith, however, is not ignorant acceptance of something. Faith is based on reason. I will address this later.
However, I have found that many of the problems people have with Christianity do not relate to faith at all. Within the church I have encountered all sorts of theological issues that simply do require faith, or at least, that I have never heard explained in a logically complete manner. But most people subscribing to other (or no) faiths don't seem to care much about these issues. That's because those intra-church issues hardly ever make a difference to the main tenants of Christianity. Although many people would vehemently disagree with me, I don't even think the polarizing topics of evolution or abortion make any sort of eternal difference. For evolution especially, I don't think it is outside of the realm of possibility that God used such a process to create the world and mankind. Nor does it have any impact on whether or not God loves us if he exists. Many like Richard Dawkins have morphed evolution into a philosophical system that implies everything is cold; God is impossible because evolution controls all outcomes by chance. But even just in the past month, I have read or heard at least five different philosophers, some Christian, some profoundly not, who all shake their heads and chuckle at Dawkins' inability to reason. For those who doubt, check out Being Good, by Simon Blackburn, who also wrote the Very Short Introduction to Ethics. Even as an obvious anti-theist, he points out how terrifically flawed are Dawkins' philosophical inferrences. As a side note, I might mention that the strictly seven-day interpretation of Genesis is actually a rather new development. Even St. Augustine urges Christians to be willing to alter their views of the Creation account as new information becomes available, and he himself did not believe in a seven-day creation (see On the Literal Meaning of Genesis, St. Augustine). You can draw your own conclusions from that.
In any case, what I'm trying to say is that many topics vigorously debated among Christians are not even on the radar of others when it comes to why they don't believe in God or the Bible. Faith is not an intellectual problem for many. Sure, they may not want to put their faith in the Christian God, but that does not mean faith is a troublesome thing for them. They often have completely separate issues, for instance the belief that truth is relative, which is a very common belief, that have convinced them that Christianity is flawed. Indeed, topics like evolution and abortion often get in the way of discussing the principle tenants of why Christianity makes sense, thereby allowing the essential faith. (This does not mean I find the topics uninteresting as many of you know.) However, I have found that most of the problems people have with Christianity can be logically reasoned through and are often found wanting. So instead of focusing on whether evolution is true or whether women should be free to have an abortion, issues that almost everyone has very strong opinions on, over the course of the next few days or weeks (who knows really, this Oxford place is sort of demanding of time), I intend to address a number of issues related to a very common problem my friends have with Christianity, or organized religion in general, namely, that they believe in relativism and Christianity is blatantly absolutist. If it is indeed true that all religions are equally good, that all opinions are equally good, that truth is defined by individuals and societies, then Christianity is indeed flawed. I believe, though, that relativism is logically untenable, and I intend to convince you, reader, that that is the case. Meanwhile I will address related issues that have often come up in the same conversation, including political leanings, church and state, and others.
I do not intend this as proselytizing, but rather as reasoning through difficult topics that happen to relate to what I believe. Thereby, I hope to prove that my faith is not based on threadbare thoughts and ignorant dismissal of other opinions, but that it is rather quite reasonable and logical. For I would never want to give the impression that I am a stubborn fool, unwilling to recognize my own faults when my logic fails. I hope I can show that.
You may ask why I didn't just write out my opinions right now, thinking I could have already addressed the topic in the time it took to write this introduction. Well, I did actually start writing the main body, and I realized it would be too long as one post. So instead, I will post a few things in the weeks to come that will hopefully cover all the bases. I may intersperse with other blogs in the meantime if I get bored with the topic (or if it is evident that you do). If you have questions or believe you have found holes in my argument, do point them out, as I am always eager to improve my reasoning. Or if you do not share my religious beliefs and I do not address your qualms with Christianity, I urge you to challenge me with those thoughts. Perhaps we will all learn something new or consider something we had never considered before. That would be excellent.
I'm sure most of my readers know that I am religious, but I do like to think I at least have some sort of logical backing for much of what I believe. True, Christianity absolutely requires faith at some point, and faith requires belief in things unseen, unable to be experimentally verified. According to the Bible, faith is the essential element that we accept. Faith, however, is not ignorant acceptance of something. Faith is based on reason. I will address this later.
However, I have found that many of the problems people have with Christianity do not relate to faith at all. Within the church I have encountered all sorts of theological issues that simply do require faith, or at least, that I have never heard explained in a logically complete manner. But most people subscribing to other (or no) faiths don't seem to care much about these issues. That's because those intra-church issues hardly ever make a difference to the main tenants of Christianity. Although many people would vehemently disagree with me, I don't even think the polarizing topics of evolution or abortion make any sort of eternal difference. For evolution especially, I don't think it is outside of the realm of possibility that God used such a process to create the world and mankind. Nor does it have any impact on whether or not God loves us if he exists. Many like Richard Dawkins have morphed evolution into a philosophical system that implies everything is cold; God is impossible because evolution controls all outcomes by chance. But even just in the past month, I have read or heard at least five different philosophers, some Christian, some profoundly not, who all shake their heads and chuckle at Dawkins' inability to reason. For those who doubt, check out Being Good, by Simon Blackburn, who also wrote the Very Short Introduction to Ethics. Even as an obvious anti-theist, he points out how terrifically flawed are Dawkins' philosophical inferrences. As a side note, I might mention that the strictly seven-day interpretation of Genesis is actually a rather new development. Even St. Augustine urges Christians to be willing to alter their views of the Creation account as new information becomes available, and he himself did not believe in a seven-day creation (see On the Literal Meaning of Genesis, St. Augustine). You can draw your own conclusions from that.
In any case, what I'm trying to say is that many topics vigorously debated among Christians are not even on the radar of others when it comes to why they don't believe in God or the Bible. Faith is not an intellectual problem for many. Sure, they may not want to put their faith in the Christian God, but that does not mean faith is a troublesome thing for them. They often have completely separate issues, for instance the belief that truth is relative, which is a very common belief, that have convinced them that Christianity is flawed. Indeed, topics like evolution and abortion often get in the way of discussing the principle tenants of why Christianity makes sense, thereby allowing the essential faith. (This does not mean I find the topics uninteresting as many of you know.) However, I have found that most of the problems people have with Christianity can be logically reasoned through and are often found wanting. So instead of focusing on whether evolution is true or whether women should be free to have an abortion, issues that almost everyone has very strong opinions on, over the course of the next few days or weeks (who knows really, this Oxford place is sort of demanding of time), I intend to address a number of issues related to a very common problem my friends have with Christianity, or organized religion in general, namely, that they believe in relativism and Christianity is blatantly absolutist. If it is indeed true that all religions are equally good, that all opinions are equally good, that truth is defined by individuals and societies, then Christianity is indeed flawed. I believe, though, that relativism is logically untenable, and I intend to convince you, reader, that that is the case. Meanwhile I will address related issues that have often come up in the same conversation, including political leanings, church and state, and others.
I do not intend this as proselytizing, but rather as reasoning through difficult topics that happen to relate to what I believe. Thereby, I hope to prove that my faith is not based on threadbare thoughts and ignorant dismissal of other opinions, but that it is rather quite reasonable and logical. For I would never want to give the impression that I am a stubborn fool, unwilling to recognize my own faults when my logic fails. I hope I can show that.
You may ask why I didn't just write out my opinions right now, thinking I could have already addressed the topic in the time it took to write this introduction. Well, I did actually start writing the main body, and I realized it would be too long as one post. So instead, I will post a few things in the weeks to come that will hopefully cover all the bases. I may intersperse with other blogs in the meantime if I get bored with the topic (or if it is evident that you do). If you have questions or believe you have found holes in my argument, do point them out, as I am always eager to improve my reasoning. Or if you do not share my religious beliefs and I do not address your qualms with Christianity, I urge you to challenge me with those thoughts. Perhaps we will all learn something new or consider something we had never considered before. That would be excellent.
Joy (aka Etymology)
Few things in life please me more than some good etymologies. So I thought I would just post a few interesting ones that have happened onto my plate in one way or another. And for those who are unfamiliar with etymology, let me start by giving the etymology of "etymology."
Etymology - from the Greek etymon and logos meaning "true sense" and "word;" obviously then, etymologies are the true sense of words
So I hope I will be able to inform you of some interesting word origins that you may have been unfamiliar with. Do let me know your thoughts on this sort of post.
Weird - from the Old English wyrd literally meaning "that which comes," though referring specifically to fate and fortune; gained the current meaning after Shakespeare (and society at large) began referring to the Norns (Norse equivalent of the Fates of Greek myth) as the "weird sisters," obviously intended to show their relation to fate, and often depicted them as strange or terrifying in appearance. I find this one particularly interesting because it not only changed meaning but also changed class from a noun to an adjective.
Lord - from Old English hlaford ("master of the house") but earlier hlafweard, "keeper of the bread" (hlaf=bread, loaf ; weard=ward, guardian, keeper). So the lord of the manor was the fellow who watched over the bread. Everything boils down to food (pun intended).
Lady - similar to the origin of "lord,"originally from Old English hlæfdige, "one who kneads bread." So again, everything comes down to food. The lady makes the bread, the lord protects it. I, of course, mean to make no implications toward gender roles in society today. I think it's sad that I even feel it necessary to make that comment, but that's another blog entirely (and perhaps one not far off).
And now to leave the realm of Angle-land, here are a few interesting ones originating in other lands.
Assassin - from Arabic hashishiyyin, "users of hashish;" from a group of Islamic radicals at the time of the Crusades who would often kill rival leaders after doping on hashish. Interesting tradition.
Pedigree - from Old French pied de gru, "foot of a crane;" in the good old days, genealogical charts used a forked symbol to depict lineage, and it just so happened that it looked a lot like a crane's footprint.
Big - know body nose
Dog - again, nobody knows; I find it wonderful that two simple words like "big" and "dog" just showed up and we haven't got a clue where they came from. That's the sort of thing that I lie awake at night thinking about. You should too.
Just three more to go!
Salient - though many, including myself previously, may think this is a reference to salt (sal is Latin for "salt" and turns up in words like salary because Roman soldiers were often paid in salt) and may think "salient points" are points that are salty, as it were, meaningful, noticeable, or important, this is actually not the origin; rather it is from salire, "to leap" in Latin and the salient point refers to the heart of an embryo, which seems to jump (in what manner it leaps, I am unsure, but old people seemed to think it did); so in that sence the salient points are the heart of the matter just as an embryo is the beginning of the larger form of life.
Brussel sprouts - from the Old French for brusselle sproutte meaning "exceedingly evil" or "unworthy of existence;" for this very reason, the fact that their very name denounces them, I refuse to eat them to this day.
Quintessential - many of us could spot the basic elements of this fellow, quint for "five" and essential for "essence," and that is of course true, but how on earth did this come to mean the most perfect embodiment of something? Well, it comes from the ancient and medieval search for the "fifth element" or "ether," the substance other than the four primary elements (earth, wind or air, fire, water....and the oft-neglected heart, of course, for you watchers of Captain Planet) that permeated all things, also later said to be what God was made of. Alchemists were all about finding this covert stuff - it was evidently fruitless, or so it seems. You can think of their quest as equivalent to how the media depicts the search for Sasquatch, though we all know that he is certainly real and lives in the woods of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. I mean, seriously, everyone knows that except, clearly, the media. But they are always last.
And I guess I'll give you one more since it has just come up.
Sasquatch - from the Native American language of Halkomelem in the Pacific Northwest, sæsq'ec, meaning "Sasquatch"
(A final tribute: "For those of you who don't know, that's Spanish for the niño!" or something like that.)
Etymology - from the Greek etymon and logos meaning "true sense" and "word;" obviously then, etymologies are the true sense of words
So I hope I will be able to inform you of some interesting word origins that you may have been unfamiliar with. Do let me know your thoughts on this sort of post.
Weird - from the Old English wyrd literally meaning "that which comes," though referring specifically to fate and fortune; gained the current meaning after Shakespeare (and society at large) began referring to the Norns (Norse equivalent of the Fates of Greek myth) as the "weird sisters," obviously intended to show their relation to fate, and often depicted them as strange or terrifying in appearance. I find this one particularly interesting because it not only changed meaning but also changed class from a noun to an adjective.
Lord - from Old English hlaford ("master of the house") but earlier hlafweard, "keeper of the bread" (hlaf=bread, loaf ; weard=ward, guardian, keeper). So the lord of the manor was the fellow who watched over the bread. Everything boils down to food (pun intended).
Lady - similar to the origin of "lord,"originally from Old English hlæfdige, "one who kneads bread." So again, everything comes down to food. The lady makes the bread, the lord protects it. I, of course, mean to make no implications toward gender roles in society today. I think it's sad that I even feel it necessary to make that comment, but that's another blog entirely (and perhaps one not far off).
And now to leave the realm of Angle-land, here are a few interesting ones originating in other lands.
Assassin - from Arabic hashishiyyin, "users of hashish;" from a group of Islamic radicals at the time of the Crusades who would often kill rival leaders after doping on hashish. Interesting tradition.
Pedigree - from Old French pied de gru, "foot of a crane;" in the good old days, genealogical charts used a forked symbol to depict lineage, and it just so happened that it looked a lot like a crane's footprint.
Big - know body nose
Dog - again, nobody knows; I find it wonderful that two simple words like "big" and "dog" just showed up and we haven't got a clue where they came from. That's the sort of thing that I lie awake at night thinking about. You should too.
Just three more to go!
Salient - though many, including myself previously, may think this is a reference to salt (sal is Latin for "salt" and turns up in words like salary because Roman soldiers were often paid in salt) and may think "salient points" are points that are salty, as it were, meaningful, noticeable, or important, this is actually not the origin; rather it is from salire, "to leap" in Latin and the salient point refers to the heart of an embryo, which seems to jump (in what manner it leaps, I am unsure, but old people seemed to think it did); so in that sence the salient points are the heart of the matter just as an embryo is the beginning of the larger form of life.
Brussel sprouts - from the Old French for brusselle sproutte meaning "exceedingly evil" or "unworthy of existence;" for this very reason, the fact that their very name denounces them, I refuse to eat them to this day.
Quintessential - many of us could spot the basic elements of this fellow, quint for "five" and essential for "essence," and that is of course true, but how on earth did this come to mean the most perfect embodiment of something? Well, it comes from the ancient and medieval search for the "fifth element" or "ether," the substance other than the four primary elements (earth, wind or air, fire, water....and the oft-neglected heart, of course, for you watchers of Captain Planet) that permeated all things, also later said to be what God was made of. Alchemists were all about finding this covert stuff - it was evidently fruitless, or so it seems. You can think of their quest as equivalent to how the media depicts the search for Sasquatch, though we all know that he is certainly real and lives in the woods of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. I mean, seriously, everyone knows that except, clearly, the media. But they are always last.
And I guess I'll give you one more since it has just come up.
Sasquatch - from the Native American language of Halkomelem in the Pacific Northwest, sæsq'ec, meaning "Sasquatch"
(A final tribute: "For those of you who don't know, that's Spanish for the niño!" or something like that.)
The Death of Education
Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a boy. Sure, there are boys right now, in a land close by, but there was nonetheless a boy, in a land far away, once upon a time. Every day this boy got up and went to school, at least, most of the time. Sometimes he may have looked a bit disheveled upon arrival, but that is besides the point. Everything was normal. He would go and listen to his teacher, read some dry textbooks, eat, and go to sleep too late. This went on for some time without exception.
Then one day his teacher announced, "Today we will divide up into groups to begin a group project." Once upon another time, this boy had encountered these so-called "group projects" and was not a fan. You see, twice or thrice upon other times (perhaps even tetrice or quintice), the boy had dealt with group projects and those notorious group members with whom we are all familiar. Free-loaders, slackers, pungent persons - they go by a variety of names. However, this group had no members of that type. After the first or second group meeting, the boy was sure this project would turn out better than most. Everyone had attended and seemed eager to help. Life was good.
For this particular assignment, the group was required to turn in a 25 page paper. This may seem a trivial project to those of you in lands nearby, but the boy knew better. In his land there was only one thing to study, and that was business. Everyone believed themselves profound utilitarians. Over the millenia, the arts and humanities, not to mention the sciences, had fallen to the wayside, deemed unproductive, money-sucking, utility-wasting ventures far below the lofty intellects of the citizenry. Unfortunately, the boy enjoyed money-sucking, utility-wasting activities like reading and did not even own a Q-square (very similar to what may be called an X-box in your land). But despite his misguided ventures, he had learned the value of being able to communicate in writing. And the boy knew that his group mates may not regard the skill of writing as important, potentially increasing the time necessary to edit the paper. Thus, he was sore afraid.
Well, each member had been assigned a five page portion of the paper and come time to gather them together, the boy was pleased to find that his fears were unnecessary. All of the partners had produced excellent work, even one of them who has from a land even farther away and did not speak the boy's language natively. "But wait, weren't there five of us?" the boy thought. There were indeed five of them, the others confirmed. One person was missing, and with the last member were the final 5 pages. Now the boy, and the other members, knew the group was flawed after all. No group project reach completion without a problem.
Already annoyed by the tardiness, the other members were further perturbed upon reading the paper, finally produced about a week later. Have you ever seen those funny translations from foreign languages into English? My favorite was a set of instructions to motorists in Tokyo reported by Bill Bryson in his book The Mother Tongue:
"When a passenger of the foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet at him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage, then tootle him with vigor."
Sometimes they make even less sense. In any case, the final five pages were such that the boy and the other group members all thought the entirety had been copied from such a translation. The project, after all, concerned Mintendo, maker of the Q-square, who published most of its information in a foreign language. So the group did have some reason to doubt. Sentences like this were popping up all over the place:
"Everyone knows Mintendo for the icon colorful and full of mushrooms Nario games."
It just didn't seem normal, and everyone agreed, including the non-native speaker.
Perturbed but convinced, the boy and a friend confronted the member gone astray, for no one wanted to suffer the consequences of plagiarism. Sadly, after much discussion and many embarrassing moments, the boy and his friend were convinced that there had been no plagiarism. It was much worse. The member simply could not write intelligibly. The land far away had reached a new low. All those seemingly small budget cuts to literature and the arts had done their deathly deed. Now people might realize just how useful reading and writing truly were.
This experience was just the first of its nature for the boy. In the next few years he had innumerable group projects, and he was continually astonished to realize how unisolated were such occurrences. In truth, many future groups did not even have a majority of people who could construct full sentences on a regular basis. And, I forgot to mention, the boy was at an institution of higher learning, sometimes referred to as college. He left the institution deeply worried about the future of education.
Unfortunately, a strikingly similar, perhaps even completely parallel situation is occurring in our own land. Going through UGA, it was immediately apparent that most students hardly read for pleasure (or for school, to be honest). Especially in the business school, it was difficult to comprehend how some of the students had ever made it through 9th grade literature class, much less gotten into college. Obviously this does not describe everyone, and I had many friends who loved reading, including a few in business. But I nonetheless was left with the impression that many business students cared nothing for reading because they really cared nothing for learning, they merely wanted money.
I believe that a number of things are to blame for this sad state in our nation's colleges, but I will only address a few.
Politicians often refer to the importance of college as a way of improving the productive stock of the nation. Going to college, they say, prepares you for future work and makes you add more to the nation long-term. I only partially agree with that statement. First of all, that is not necessarily true for people who want to be mechanics. We should never forget that many fields simply require different training to be effective, and those individuals are no less important than PhDs. But more importantly, the super-focused approach of colleges these days often ends up hurting the students' ability to think and reason, in my opinion. Business students hardly study anything other than business. Physics students hardly study anything but physics and math. There is so little exposure to the arts and humanities in general that students often end up being completely one-sided. And if they do manage to retain reasoning abilities, they are often boring people with no appreciation for beauty and truth who believe their field to be far superior to all others. Many famous economists, I've noticed, are more than eager to mock the findings of other fields. You can often find them at Ivy League schools, patting themselves on the back while looking disdainfully towards the literature department. (Though I do know some economists who enjoy a good book). Well-roundedness has been abandoned for the cult of the specialist. But despite education trends, insightful knowledge does not restrict itself to one field. Therefore, I believe we are severely restricting our own productivity and learning.
The US also seems to have decided that math and science are more important than other fields, placing special emphasis on these subjects in elementary school through high school. But I feel it is equally important to study literature and writing. Communication of ideas is of extreme value. In fact, it may be of more importance than discoveries themselves. These days in academia, you have to convince your colleagues that your discovery or insight is not only valid but useful. If you are unable to do so, your discovery is doomed to live in dusty basements. You may have discovered a new theory of physics that would revolutionize the provision of energy, but if you cannot communicate its importance, it doesn't matter. And obviously, as my story (with actual quotations from an actual paper) shows, the ability to communicate, even among college students, is often absent.
Although these are just a few symptoms, I believe the underlying problem of improper priorities in education is massive. So maybe read some King Lear tonight, if you haven't in some time, and remind yourself just how excellent language can be. Although solutions may be hard to come by, they start with individual commitment to learning. Posterity will certainly have no reason to love learning if we tacitly convince them that close-mindedness, ignorance, and sloth are acceptable.
For further reading, check out these two articles:
Why We Educate our Children
College Illiterates
Then one day his teacher announced, "Today we will divide up into groups to begin a group project." Once upon another time, this boy had encountered these so-called "group projects" and was not a fan. You see, twice or thrice upon other times (perhaps even tetrice or quintice), the boy had dealt with group projects and those notorious group members with whom we are all familiar. Free-loaders, slackers, pungent persons - they go by a variety of names. However, this group had no members of that type. After the first or second group meeting, the boy was sure this project would turn out better than most. Everyone had attended and seemed eager to help. Life was good.
For this particular assignment, the group was required to turn in a 25 page paper. This may seem a trivial project to those of you in lands nearby, but the boy knew better. In his land there was only one thing to study, and that was business. Everyone believed themselves profound utilitarians. Over the millenia, the arts and humanities, not to mention the sciences, had fallen to the wayside, deemed unproductive, money-sucking, utility-wasting ventures far below the lofty intellects of the citizenry. Unfortunately, the boy enjoyed money-sucking, utility-wasting activities like reading and did not even own a Q-square (very similar to what may be called an X-box in your land). But despite his misguided ventures, he had learned the value of being able to communicate in writing. And the boy knew that his group mates may not regard the skill of writing as important, potentially increasing the time necessary to edit the paper. Thus, he was sore afraid.
Well, each member had been assigned a five page portion of the paper and come time to gather them together, the boy was pleased to find that his fears were unnecessary. All of the partners had produced excellent work, even one of them who has from a land even farther away and did not speak the boy's language natively. "But wait, weren't there five of us?" the boy thought. There were indeed five of them, the others confirmed. One person was missing, and with the last member were the final 5 pages. Now the boy, and the other members, knew the group was flawed after all. No group project reach completion without a problem.
Already annoyed by the tardiness, the other members were further perturbed upon reading the paper, finally produced about a week later. Have you ever seen those funny translations from foreign languages into English? My favorite was a set of instructions to motorists in Tokyo reported by Bill Bryson in his book The Mother Tongue:
"When a passenger of the foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet at him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage, then tootle him with vigor."
Sometimes they make even less sense. In any case, the final five pages were such that the boy and the other group members all thought the entirety had been copied from such a translation. The project, after all, concerned Mintendo, maker of the Q-square, who published most of its information in a foreign language. So the group did have some reason to doubt. Sentences like this were popping up all over the place:
"Everyone knows Mintendo for the icon colorful and full of mushrooms Nario games."
It just didn't seem normal, and everyone agreed, including the non-native speaker.
Perturbed but convinced, the boy and a friend confronted the member gone astray, for no one wanted to suffer the consequences of plagiarism. Sadly, after much discussion and many embarrassing moments, the boy and his friend were convinced that there had been no plagiarism. It was much worse. The member simply could not write intelligibly. The land far away had reached a new low. All those seemingly small budget cuts to literature and the arts had done their deathly deed. Now people might realize just how useful reading and writing truly were.
This experience was just the first of its nature for the boy. In the next few years he had innumerable group projects, and he was continually astonished to realize how unisolated were such occurrences. In truth, many future groups did not even have a majority of people who could construct full sentences on a regular basis. And, I forgot to mention, the boy was at an institution of higher learning, sometimes referred to as college. He left the institution deeply worried about the future of education.
Unfortunately, a strikingly similar, perhaps even completely parallel situation is occurring in our own land. Going through UGA, it was immediately apparent that most students hardly read for pleasure (or for school, to be honest). Especially in the business school, it was difficult to comprehend how some of the students had ever made it through 9th grade literature class, much less gotten into college. Obviously this does not describe everyone, and I had many friends who loved reading, including a few in business. But I nonetheless was left with the impression that many business students cared nothing for reading because they really cared nothing for learning, they merely wanted money.
I believe that a number of things are to blame for this sad state in our nation's colleges, but I will only address a few.
Politicians often refer to the importance of college as a way of improving the productive stock of the nation. Going to college, they say, prepares you for future work and makes you add more to the nation long-term. I only partially agree with that statement. First of all, that is not necessarily true for people who want to be mechanics. We should never forget that many fields simply require different training to be effective, and those individuals are no less important than PhDs. But more importantly, the super-focused approach of colleges these days often ends up hurting the students' ability to think and reason, in my opinion. Business students hardly study anything other than business. Physics students hardly study anything but physics and math. There is so little exposure to the arts and humanities in general that students often end up being completely one-sided. And if they do manage to retain reasoning abilities, they are often boring people with no appreciation for beauty and truth who believe their field to be far superior to all others. Many famous economists, I've noticed, are more than eager to mock the findings of other fields. You can often find them at Ivy League schools, patting themselves on the back while looking disdainfully towards the literature department. (Though I do know some economists who enjoy a good book). Well-roundedness has been abandoned for the cult of the specialist. But despite education trends, insightful knowledge does not restrict itself to one field. Therefore, I believe we are severely restricting our own productivity and learning.
The US also seems to have decided that math and science are more important than other fields, placing special emphasis on these subjects in elementary school through high school. But I feel it is equally important to study literature and writing. Communication of ideas is of extreme value. In fact, it may be of more importance than discoveries themselves. These days in academia, you have to convince your colleagues that your discovery or insight is not only valid but useful. If you are unable to do so, your discovery is doomed to live in dusty basements. You may have discovered a new theory of physics that would revolutionize the provision of energy, but if you cannot communicate its importance, it doesn't matter. And obviously, as my story (with actual quotations from an actual paper) shows, the ability to communicate, even among college students, is often absent.
Although these are just a few symptoms, I believe the underlying problem of improper priorities in education is massive. So maybe read some King Lear tonight, if you haven't in some time, and remind yourself just how excellent language can be. Although solutions may be hard to come by, they start with individual commitment to learning. Posterity will certainly have no reason to love learning if we tacitly convince them that close-mindedness, ignorance, and sloth are acceptable.
For further reading, check out these two articles:
Why We Educate our Children
College Illiterates
Kangaroo Singing
I think at this point it's safe to say I am a non-denominational Christian. I grew up Baptist, later attended a Messianic Synagogue, went to a Methodist campus ministry, partnered with a Catholic church on a yearly basis, was the music director at a Baptist church, and am currently attending an Anglican church. So now all I'm missing are the crazy snake handling churches, and I plan to continue to avoid them. Each of these places of worship had unique aspects that I enjoyed, and, equally, they all had weaknesses as well. Coming to England, I knew there was a decent chance I would end up in an Anglican church, given their ubiquity. And as I have already shared in my "Oxfordian Paradox" post, one of the things I anticipated most was the rich and unique musical heritage of the Anglican church, one example being Evensong. It's old, being originally Catholic, but also new, being fundamentally non-Catholic. But as we all know, many churches have modernized not only in technology and methods, but also in music.
By way of explanation, let me give you a bit of musical background. As an undergrad student I took two years of music theory (good idea). Unfortunately for me, who was just taking the courses for fun, music theory is considered the weed-out class for music. So on top of being fairly difficult at times, it was also scheduled at 8 in the morning every day of the week (bad idea). Nonetheless, it was wonderful, both in terms of skills acquired and friends made. But that is completely irrelevant to my story; I just thought I'd tell you.
So getting back to it, in music theory we learned "proper" technique for writing music. One of the principle tenets of writing a good melody is that it be simple. If you turn on the radio and hear some of the popular songs at the moment (or at basically any moment in history, for that matter), they will all have relatively simple melodies. This fact, of course, is to make them easy to sing. If you can't sing along to it, it simply won't become popular. Likewise, in classical music, some of the most memorable and popular tunes are unbelievably simple. The challenge is to have enough variety to make it interesting while still keeping it easy enough to sing along to.
Well, I was surprised to find that modern church music here completely ignores this rule. Normally I would be hesitant to say this is a bad thing: many of you know I am prone to mocking the ridiculous simplicity and repetitiveness of certain popular Christian songs (one in particular that I despise says the word "Jesus" over thirty times in a row with the exact same tune each time, except every fourth "Jesus" - woo hoo). And while I don't necessarily mind the apparent English approach to praise songs, I do find it comical. Let me give you a run down of one of these songs.
The words are printed in the bulletin without any music, so I have no idea how the tune goes (it's too bad no one uses hymnals anymore; they often include better bass lines than I could naturally think of). The singers are up on stage, the music starts, and we're off! Things are going well for about four words; the melody rises one step higher per word. Then, out of nowhere, SQUEAK, the entire congregation cracks their voices straining for some absurdly high note, and then we are immediately back down to the normal pattern. We continue a few more words, and just as I am catching on to the pattern of the next line, ..... , the crowd goes silent, the melody having suddenly dropped so low that only James Earl Jones could hit it. Both extremes having been used up, I figure I am safe for the next line. How foolish of me. Right at the start of the next line: SQUEAK,.....,SQUEAK and then into a usual pattern. To put it mildly, it is completely impossible to follow.
In case you find my words obscure, here is a visual interpretation:
"praise the LORD all ye People - YES praise THE LOOOOOord HALleluJAH!!!!!"
This week at service, one song was so crazy that my wife and I couldn't help laughing every time we came to one of the random jumps. My theory is that they want to give you a feeling of accomplishment when you have finally learned to predict the awkward jumping. Either that or they think we are all kangaroos.
Oh, and I forgot to mention, for all ye music majors out there, the songs seldom end on the tonic, and I mean seldom. That's another big no-no for making singable melodies.
So that's pretty much it. Generally, I like to find some sort of application or moral or something to end my stories, but I don't think there is one. Sometimes, there's just a story, nothing else. But to indulge you, I tried. My best attempt produced this, and with it I will close:
Never exile your criminals to a big unexplored island; they will end up having cooler wild animals than you do, you'll get jealous, and your culture will reflect your jealousy for time immemorial.
I mean, really, how cool are kangaroos? Not to mention platypi. Australia rocks.
By way of explanation, let me give you a bit of musical background. As an undergrad student I took two years of music theory (good idea). Unfortunately for me, who was just taking the courses for fun, music theory is considered the weed-out class for music. So on top of being fairly difficult at times, it was also scheduled at 8 in the morning every day of the week (bad idea). Nonetheless, it was wonderful, both in terms of skills acquired and friends made. But that is completely irrelevant to my story; I just thought I'd tell you.
So getting back to it, in music theory we learned "proper" technique for writing music. One of the principle tenets of writing a good melody is that it be simple. If you turn on the radio and hear some of the popular songs at the moment (or at basically any moment in history, for that matter), they will all have relatively simple melodies. This fact, of course, is to make them easy to sing. If you can't sing along to it, it simply won't become popular. Likewise, in classical music, some of the most memorable and popular tunes are unbelievably simple. The challenge is to have enough variety to make it interesting while still keeping it easy enough to sing along to.
Well, I was surprised to find that modern church music here completely ignores this rule. Normally I would be hesitant to say this is a bad thing: many of you know I am prone to mocking the ridiculous simplicity and repetitiveness of certain popular Christian songs (one in particular that I despise says the word "Jesus" over thirty times in a row with the exact same tune each time, except every fourth "Jesus" - woo hoo). And while I don't necessarily mind the apparent English approach to praise songs, I do find it comical. Let me give you a run down of one of these songs.
The words are printed in the bulletin without any music, so I have no idea how the tune goes (it's too bad no one uses hymnals anymore; they often include better bass lines than I could naturally think of). The singers are up on stage, the music starts, and we're off! Things are going well for about four words; the melody rises one step higher per word. Then, out of nowhere, SQUEAK, the entire congregation cracks their voices straining for some absurdly high note, and then we are immediately back down to the normal pattern. We continue a few more words, and just as I am catching on to the pattern of the next line, ..... , the crowd goes silent, the melody having suddenly dropped so low that only James Earl Jones could hit it. Both extremes having been used up, I figure I am safe for the next line. How foolish of me. Right at the start of the next line: SQUEAK,.....,SQUEAK and then into a usual pattern. To put it mildly, it is completely impossible to follow.
In case you find my words obscure, here is a visual interpretation:
"praise the LORD all ye People - YES praise THE LOOOOOord HALleluJAH!!!!!"
This week at service, one song was so crazy that my wife and I couldn't help laughing every time we came to one of the random jumps. My theory is that they want to give you a feeling of accomplishment when you have finally learned to predict the awkward jumping. Either that or they think we are all kangaroos.
Oh, and I forgot to mention, for all ye music majors out there, the songs seldom end on the tonic, and I mean seldom. That's another big no-no for making singable melodies.
So that's pretty much it. Generally, I like to find some sort of application or moral or something to end my stories, but I don't think there is one. Sometimes, there's just a story, nothing else. But to indulge you, I tried. My best attempt produced this, and with it I will close:
Never exile your criminals to a big unexplored island; they will end up having cooler wild animals than you do, you'll get jealous, and your culture will reflect your jealousy for time immemorial.
I mean, really, how cool are kangaroos? Not to mention platypi. Australia rocks.
Follow the JP Survey?
Just to point it out, notice that I have a new gadget in the side bar --->
I would appreciate it, if you read my blog regularly, if you would signify the fact by clicking the link to "follow" my blog. It would just be a nice thing to know how many folks enjoy the Survey.
Thanks!
I would appreciate it, if you read my blog regularly, if you would signify the fact by clicking the link to "follow" my blog. It would just be a nice thing to know how many folks enjoy the Survey.
Thanks!
Philosophy of Economics
This will be very brief, unlike my usual posts. Over the past week, I have realized just how much economists assume for the sake of their models and many times I have found myself questioning their validity. So for those of you who enjoy philosophizing, here are a few issues and questions to think about. I would love to hear your opinions (so please post them) and I may offer some of my own as time goes on. Along with the assumption, I will try to briefly explain why it is needed.
Assumption 1 - pleasure is the best way to measure utility - economists use this idea ALL the time to measure how much a person values some goods or choices or anything really. It is absolutely fundamental to economics. My question regards its implications about human nature. Does it make sense even in the case where people do something out of goodwill to their own financial or even physical detriment? Do people really get pleasure by choosing to be ascetic or taking a bullet? Essentially, many economists would argue that every choice is founded on hedonism, even those done for the good of others. They say that rational people would only give to charity, for instance, if it made them feel good. Therefore, all charity and generosity is based on selfishness. It's all about me. Hmm.
Assumption 2 - knowledge is infinite - certain growth models incorporate a variable that essentially says that as people's knowledge increases, they are able to become more efficient and innovate more, and it becomes possible to permanently increase an economy's growth rate. However, the models also assume that as the world's total knowledge increases (not each individual's knowledge, the total sum of all things known), it becomes easier to make new innovations. The idea is that, for example, if I know algebra, calculus will be a lot easier for me to learn than before I knew algebra. So the more that is known, the more can be discovered. However, if knowledge were finite, if there were a point when everything was known (even if it was really far away), then more knowledge would mean it was harder to make new discoveries. If you are searching for 100 hidden marbles in a field and 99 have already been found, the chances of finding a new marble are much lower than if all 100 were still out there. Hmm again.
As a note on that one, it is also insanely difficult to measure knowledge as a value since it takes so many forms and all knowledge is not as productive as other knowledge (the 'discovery' of the computer chip was more productive than the 'discovery' of the electric razor). That makes things interesting. I have a very strongly held belief about the infinity or finity (which is not a word but should be) of knowledge, but I will withhold it for now.
That's all for now. I might put more up as time goes on depending on the response to the post. Hope you all enjoy philosophizing; or I at least hope you find the questions somewhat interesting. If not, don't tell me. I'm very fragile.
Assumption 1 - pleasure is the best way to measure utility - economists use this idea ALL the time to measure how much a person values some goods or choices or anything really. It is absolutely fundamental to economics. My question regards its implications about human nature. Does it make sense even in the case where people do something out of goodwill to their own financial or even physical detriment? Do people really get pleasure by choosing to be ascetic or taking a bullet? Essentially, many economists would argue that every choice is founded on hedonism, even those done for the good of others. They say that rational people would only give to charity, for instance, if it made them feel good. Therefore, all charity and generosity is based on selfishness. It's all about me. Hmm.
Assumption 2 - knowledge is infinite - certain growth models incorporate a variable that essentially says that as people's knowledge increases, they are able to become more efficient and innovate more, and it becomes possible to permanently increase an economy's growth rate. However, the models also assume that as the world's total knowledge increases (not each individual's knowledge, the total sum of all things known), it becomes easier to make new innovations. The idea is that, for example, if I know algebra, calculus will be a lot easier for me to learn than before I knew algebra. So the more that is known, the more can be discovered. However, if knowledge were finite, if there were a point when everything was known (even if it was really far away), then more knowledge would mean it was harder to make new discoveries. If you are searching for 100 hidden marbles in a field and 99 have already been found, the chances of finding a new marble are much lower than if all 100 were still out there. Hmm again.
As a note on that one, it is also insanely difficult to measure knowledge as a value since it takes so many forms and all knowledge is not as productive as other knowledge (the 'discovery' of the computer chip was more productive than the 'discovery' of the electric razor). That makes things interesting. I have a very strongly held belief about the infinity or finity (which is not a word but should be) of knowledge, but I will withhold it for now.
That's all for now. I might put more up as time goes on depending on the response to the post. Hope you all enjoy philosophizing; or I at least hope you find the questions somewhat interesting. If not, don't tell me. I'm very fragile.
Paranoia
"Welcome to HSBC, the world's local bank. Please enter your account number followed by hash to ensure quick service."
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
"Now please enter your sort code, followed by hash."
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
"For your own security, please enter your date of birth"
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
"And to verify your information, please enter the first, fourth, and next to last digits of your security code."
Beep-beep-beep.
"Now please say the magic word, followed by the first fifteen digits of pi, and spell the name of the capital of Kazakhstan."
....
....
"We're sorry; we did not understand the answer. Please try again."
....
....
"For your own security, we are unable to continue with this transaction, please hang up and call again."
Click.
So went my most recent call to my bank here in the UK. It was really a shame because I know pi to 10 digits. But setting up the account was just as painful as dealing with the automated service. You see, establishing a bank account in the UK is something akin to convincing Joseph McCarthy that you have never said anything disparaging about the United States or its leaders. To be blunt, everyone is absolutely paranoid about security here, both in the financial sector and at the University. Coming from the US, where bank accounts are given out like buy-one-get-one-free coupons to Domino's, it was quite a disagreeable experience to set one up here. Let me give you a brief history of my adventure.
Two days after arriving in the UK, I received in my pidge (pigeon hole, aka college mail box) a letter from the registrar establishing that my wife and I really had a residence in the UK. So we took the letter and our passports to the bank, where there was a 45 minute wait (we were told to leave and come back to check on our progress). Upon our return, we went in to see a fellow who got us accounts. But, of course, there was a fee, because we weren't from the UK. And we couldn't have a joint account because we were not from the UK, and therefore, not real people until we had been living in the UK for at least a year. And we couldn't have credit, for the same reason. And we couldn't have checks, just a debit card, because they didn't feel like giving us checks that day. But nonetheless, we were pleased to have accounts only two days after arriving; we too had already heard of how troublesome it was. So all things considered, our banking experience was going well. The banker told us we would receive our debit cards and PINs in the mail shortly.
About a week later, we received two letters that looked like junk mail. Upon opening them, we were surprised to find each of our debit cards and a note that read "We have disguised this letter to appear usual, for your own security" or something to that effect. Fine with me, though I chuckled a bit. A few days later we received a more obviously worthwhile letter containing the PINs. The way it worked, for our own security of course, was to punch out this little portion at the bottom of the page with black and white static all over it. That area was actually two pieces of paper that separated to reveal (get excited) absolutely nothing.
Perplexed by the apparently empty paper, we pondered what to do. Then, to our joy, we noticed something very faintly written on the paper, almost invisible (and that is no exaggeration). There, with a background of static, was the lightest gray printing revealing a number (aha! you thought I would inadvertently tell you what it was!), 1234. (Aha! fooled again, for that is only a fake!) I kid you not; I really thought the sheet was blank. And it was a good thing they wrote out the numbers in words as well as digits because I honestly could not make out the digits. But of course it was for our own security.
Well, in any case, I was glad to be done with the set-up. Unfortunately, I received another letter the next day. It read, "the date listed on your address verification is incorrect; please go to the nearest HSBC branch with one of the documents listed on the next page to correct the problem." Too bad I didn't have any of those documents. And what did that mean anyway? The date was wrong with my address? So I went back the next day, and asked to see someone. Well, "it's lunch time," said the receptionist, so the wait would be at least an hour. It was two. But I finally got in and showed the banker the same documents I had before. Although the problem is difficult to explain, I will try, because it is really unbelievably stupid and you must hear it.
One of the fields filled in when applying for the account was called "customer from" and required a date; obviously this should be the date the account was established. Well, the date listed was the day we established our account. However, the banker informed me that really the date needed was the day we entered the UK, as stamped on our visas. So we pulled out the visa and inspected. "Ah, I see," says the banker, "I probably would have mistaken that for a 25 as well, but it really says 23." But she didn't change the date to 23. Instead, she asked for the letter from my college, which I produced. "Oh good!" she says, "the date listed here matches the date 25, so I'll just copy this and we'll be fine." Now the confusion seems to have been the college letter (I had two copies, one dated 24, one dated 25). She continued, "See, we just need the letter to match the date in the account." So apparently, since I had used the one dated 24 when setting up the account on the 25th, this was bad. You MUST establish your account on the same day you receive the letter. What if I had been sick that day? Too bad. So anyway, the verdict is this: the field "customer from" doesn't mean "customer from" and the banker can use any number of different criteria to establish what date needs to match what. It doesn't matter if it makes any sense at all. And they can also say that the date must match the visa and then immediately change their mind and say it must match the letter.
So it took me two hours to change the date related to my address, whatever that means. And oh, just to emphasize it, they didn't change the date.
The University is just as bad. Back in the States at university, we had one username and one password to access everything we needed. Here I have three different usernames and six passwords to access different systems. This, of course, is on top of the eight or nine passwords I already have for banking and email and all the rest. Put PINs, security codes, secret questions, and lock combinations on top of that and I have at least 20 numbers to remember on a regular basis. And of course, they encourage these all to be different and want you to change each of them every eight weeks but never write them down. It has been so overwhelming that at one point I thought my wife's computer was not working for about a week simply because I had mixed up some of the passwords. But it is for my own security, so I guess I should just cope.
But I refuse! I am very inclined to believe that all these superfluous usernames and passwords actually cause more harm than good. If everyone working in business in the UK is in the same situation, I cannot imagine how many millions of calls are sent off to India every year just to verify identity and recall a forgotten password. And given wait times here, I'm sure the time wasted is enormous. Sure there's a credit crunch and identity theft is on the rise, but this is just excessive. To be honest, I am absolutely astonished that London ever became a center of banking given the experience I have had with the financial system here. It is set up to maim and kill, not to provide the means for easier transactions. But at least I have my debit card; I have friends who have been here as long as I who still cannot access their funds. Craziness.
So my next big challenge is to conquer the phone banking service. Luckily, I have some parallel training in my current studies. See, in economics things often happen magically. You start with some equation, derive another one, and then poof, the magic number steps in and you have a really pretty answer. So as I practice my wizardry on other people's hypothetical money, perhaps I will gain the skill to answer the bank's automated phone service. Until then, though, I'll just work on learning the next five digits of pi.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
"Now please enter your sort code, followed by hash."
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
"For your own security, please enter your date of birth"
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
"And to verify your information, please enter the first, fourth, and next to last digits of your security code."
Beep-beep-beep.
"Now please say the magic word, followed by the first fifteen digits of pi, and spell the name of the capital of Kazakhstan."
....
....
"We're sorry; we did not understand the answer. Please try again."
....
....
"For your own security, we are unable to continue with this transaction, please hang up and call again."
Click.
So went my most recent call to my bank here in the UK. It was really a shame because I know pi to 10 digits. But setting up the account was just as painful as dealing with the automated service. You see, establishing a bank account in the UK is something akin to convincing Joseph McCarthy that you have never said anything disparaging about the United States or its leaders. To be blunt, everyone is absolutely paranoid about security here, both in the financial sector and at the University. Coming from the US, where bank accounts are given out like buy-one-get-one-free coupons to Domino's, it was quite a disagreeable experience to set one up here. Let me give you a brief history of my adventure.
Two days after arriving in the UK, I received in my pidge (pigeon hole, aka college mail box) a letter from the registrar establishing that my wife and I really had a residence in the UK. So we took the letter and our passports to the bank, where there was a 45 minute wait (we were told to leave and come back to check on our progress). Upon our return, we went in to see a fellow who got us accounts. But, of course, there was a fee, because we weren't from the UK. And we couldn't have a joint account because we were not from the UK, and therefore, not real people until we had been living in the UK for at least a year. And we couldn't have credit, for the same reason. And we couldn't have checks, just a debit card, because they didn't feel like giving us checks that day. But nonetheless, we were pleased to have accounts only two days after arriving; we too had already heard of how troublesome it was. So all things considered, our banking experience was going well. The banker told us we would receive our debit cards and PINs in the mail shortly.
About a week later, we received two letters that looked like junk mail. Upon opening them, we were surprised to find each of our debit cards and a note that read "We have disguised this letter to appear usual, for your own security" or something to that effect. Fine with me, though I chuckled a bit. A few days later we received a more obviously worthwhile letter containing the PINs. The way it worked, for our own security of course, was to punch out this little portion at the bottom of the page with black and white static all over it. That area was actually two pieces of paper that separated to reveal (get excited) absolutely nothing.
Perplexed by the apparently empty paper, we pondered what to do. Then, to our joy, we noticed something very faintly written on the paper, almost invisible (and that is no exaggeration). There, with a background of static, was the lightest gray printing revealing a number (aha! you thought I would inadvertently tell you what it was!), 1234. (Aha! fooled again, for that is only a fake!) I kid you not; I really thought the sheet was blank. And it was a good thing they wrote out the numbers in words as well as digits because I honestly could not make out the digits. But of course it was for our own security.
Well, in any case, I was glad to be done with the set-up. Unfortunately, I received another letter the next day. It read, "the date listed on your address verification is incorrect; please go to the nearest HSBC branch with one of the documents listed on the next page to correct the problem." Too bad I didn't have any of those documents. And what did that mean anyway? The date was wrong with my address? So I went back the next day, and asked to see someone. Well, "it's lunch time," said the receptionist, so the wait would be at least an hour. It was two. But I finally got in and showed the banker the same documents I had before. Although the problem is difficult to explain, I will try, because it is really unbelievably stupid and you must hear it.
One of the fields filled in when applying for the account was called "customer from" and required a date; obviously this should be the date the account was established. Well, the date listed was the day we established our account. However, the banker informed me that really the date needed was the day we entered the UK, as stamped on our visas. So we pulled out the visa and inspected. "Ah, I see," says the banker, "I probably would have mistaken that for a 25 as well, but it really says 23." But she didn't change the date to 23. Instead, she asked for the letter from my college, which I produced. "Oh good!" she says, "the date listed here matches the date 25, so I'll just copy this and we'll be fine." Now the confusion seems to have been the college letter (I had two copies, one dated 24, one dated 25). She continued, "See, we just need the letter to match the date in the account." So apparently, since I had used the one dated 24 when setting up the account on the 25th, this was bad. You MUST establish your account on the same day you receive the letter. What if I had been sick that day? Too bad. So anyway, the verdict is this: the field "customer from" doesn't mean "customer from" and the banker can use any number of different criteria to establish what date needs to match what. It doesn't matter if it makes any sense at all. And they can also say that the date must match the visa and then immediately change their mind and say it must match the letter.
So it took me two hours to change the date related to my address, whatever that means. And oh, just to emphasize it, they didn't change the date.
The University is just as bad. Back in the States at university, we had one username and one password to access everything we needed. Here I have three different usernames and six passwords to access different systems. This, of course, is on top of the eight or nine passwords I already have for banking and email and all the rest. Put PINs, security codes, secret questions, and lock combinations on top of that and I have at least 20 numbers to remember on a regular basis. And of course, they encourage these all to be different and want you to change each of them every eight weeks but never write them down. It has been so overwhelming that at one point I thought my wife's computer was not working for about a week simply because I had mixed up some of the passwords. But it is for my own security, so I guess I should just cope.
But I refuse! I am very inclined to believe that all these superfluous usernames and passwords actually cause more harm than good. If everyone working in business in the UK is in the same situation, I cannot imagine how many millions of calls are sent off to India every year just to verify identity and recall a forgotten password. And given wait times here, I'm sure the time wasted is enormous. Sure there's a credit crunch and identity theft is on the rise, but this is just excessive. To be honest, I am absolutely astonished that London ever became a center of banking given the experience I have had with the financial system here. It is set up to maim and kill, not to provide the means for easier transactions. But at least I have my debit card; I have friends who have been here as long as I who still cannot access their funds. Craziness.
So my next big challenge is to conquer the phone banking service. Luckily, I have some parallel training in my current studies. See, in economics things often happen magically. You start with some equation, derive another one, and then poof, the magic number steps in and you have a really pretty answer. So as I practice my wizardry on other people's hypothetical money, perhaps I will gain the skill to answer the bank's automated phone service. Until then, though, I'll just work on learning the next five digits of pi.
Perplexing Plurals
Imagine if you will a lovely little restaurant in a small Georgia town just outside Athens and the University of Georgia. Located on the main street of Watkinsville, Le Maison Bleu is excellent, or so I hear. I have never actually been to it, but many friends attest its tastiness. This I do not doubt because it exhibits the one trait absolutely required to be considered a high class institution: all the menu prices are listed as whole dollar values without decimals. Beware the supposedly fancy restaurant that still lists price to the .99; its glamour is likely less than the owner believes. (This is not to say that the food is inadequate at such restaurants. Some of the best food is found in little hole-in-the-wall locales, but it is nice to be pampered from time to time.) In any case, there you are, about to enjoy artsy sea bass lined with a drizzle of port reduction and a single asparagus atop it all when all of a sudden, a raging Frenchman storms through the door. Lest I give the wrong impression, let me preface this story with the fact that my experience with the French has been quite positive with the exception of one particularly perturbed receptionist. But regardless of my leanings, I certainly would not want to be in the way of this restaurant ravaging, beret wearing, thinly mustachioed Parisian. Indeed, this is one of the dreadful French elite (or rather, élite, for fear of upsetting him). He wreaks havoc all the way up to the hostess and demands to speak with the owner at once. Your dinner peace having been blemished already, you decide to listen in.
"Zis iz an outrage!!" the vituperative man exclaims.
"Please, sir, if you would like to discuss a problem, we are more than welcome to help, but let's do keep our voice down."
"Ah refuze to lo-ware ma voice when zis blazphemy haz been pearpatrated againzt ma language, ma country, ma-self!"
"What is the matter, sir? But please let's quite down."
"You zilly English rezt-ai-raunteurz, it iz not 'Le Maison Bleu'! It iz of corze 'La Maison Bleue'!"
You see, this man, scourge of France, is a member of l'Académie française, that accursed institution responsible for the destruction of the French language. To be fair, the man was right. Our friends in Watkinsville fell short, not even bothering to look up the gender of the main word in their restaurant title. This true story, recorded word for word by myself without a hint of exaggeration or stereotyping, shows how inflexible the French language is. According to this ridiculous group, new words acquired by the French are often discarded as "not French enough for French," thereby rendering especially useful words like le parking and le weekend officially defunct. Sure, they don't sound especially French (actually they do when pronounced by a Frenchman), but language is intended to change. English, for example, used to be something akin to German and Icelandic, completely indistinguishable from what it is today. But partially because of groups like the Académie, French is no longer the lingua franca of business and international relations (oh the irony), and English has stepped in to fill that void as America has risen to economic power over the past two hundred years.
All this being said, as I was beginning to write a completely different post earlier, I happened to include the word passerby in the opening paragraph. Ardent logophile that I am and being prone to jump from one thought to another at the slightest provocation, I thought how wonderful was the plural of said word. How often does one get the pleasure of negating all the usual grammatical rules for pluralization by inserting an "s" into the middle of a word to make it plural? Lovely. Despite the rebellious excitement that stirs in me each time I say passersby, it does actually conform to English grammar. The rule is this: one pluralizes nouns, not modifiers. By is merely describing the passers, and just as we would not say "the purples eggplant" to pluralize "the purple eggplant," so we should not say passerbies. This case, however, is fairly well known and many people would say passersby if they thought about it for a second.
What about these words, though: spoonful, cupful, attorney general? Although it is grammatically correct to say spoonsful, cupsful, and attorneys general, most people would simply add an "s" to the end of each word to pluralize it. In fact, I don't think I have ever heard anyone use anything other than spoonfuls. In looking around for interesting factoids, I ran across another fellow's blog talking specifically about football time outs and whether it was actually correct to say time outs or if it should be times out. While he concludes that time outs is correct, as do I, I disagree with his reasoning. He says that since it is a two-word construction, requiring both words to make sense, that you should just add an "s" to the end of it. I think his point is correct, but I do not think it holds for time out. I will explain using another example in his blog.
Earlier in the post he condones attorneys general as a correct plural since general simply describes attorney. While I think grammarians would agree, I do not. I am inclined to think that attorney general is actually a two-word construction, especially since we took the phrase from French as a single unit. If it were two separate parts we would not put the adjective after the noun in the French manner but would rather say general attorney. So firstly, I think it should be attorney generals because it is a two-word construction, and I think that is a good example of the rule that he wishes to apply to time out. But I do not think time out is the same since it is like passerby with two distinct parts that are logical. "Time that is out of play" = "time out" seems analogous to "passer who is walking by" = "passerby." So it makes since that "times that are out of play" = "times out" since "passers who are walking by" = "passersby." Therefore, I think grammatically it should be times out, but that makes absolutely no difference to me, because I like time outs better, and that is the point.
So after all this quasi-technical ado, it comes down to the fact that English is quite willing to change and the change betters our language. After all, football would seem utterly less rough and manly if all the announcers went around saying spoonsful, cupsful, and attorneys general (for they do often ramble to unrelated topics). "I would like two spoonsful of sugar in my tea whilst I wait for the attorneys general of the nearby towns to take their seats. Then we shall commence with this brutish game which I loathe to see. Viewers are certainly in for savagery today, Bob." So while times out may accidentally come out of the mouth of an announcer from time to time, I'm sure it will die out soon. And since "incorrect" grammar is definitely rough and manly, I'm all about it. As one wiser than I once said, "I love grammar," and I completely agree, but it's fun when grammar changes. Then maybe in five hundred years people will look back on our current tongue as a foreign language, just as we do on that of our forebears. Perhaps they will have an even more rebellious way of pluralizing time out. The thought gives me shivers.
"Zis iz an outrage!!" the vituperative man exclaims.
"Please, sir, if you would like to discuss a problem, we are more than welcome to help, but let's do keep our voice down."
"Ah refuze to lo-ware ma voice when zis blazphemy haz been pearpatrated againzt ma language, ma country, ma-self!"
"What is the matter, sir? But please let's quite down."
"You zilly English rezt-ai-raunteurz, it iz not 'Le Maison Bleu'! It iz of corze 'La Maison Bleue'!"
You see, this man, scourge of France, is a member of l'Académie française, that accursed institution responsible for the destruction of the French language. To be fair, the man was right. Our friends in Watkinsville fell short, not even bothering to look up the gender of the main word in their restaurant title. This true story, recorded word for word by myself without a hint of exaggeration or stereotyping, shows how inflexible the French language is. According to this ridiculous group, new words acquired by the French are often discarded as "not French enough for French," thereby rendering especially useful words like le parking and le weekend officially defunct. Sure, they don't sound especially French (actually they do when pronounced by a Frenchman), but language is intended to change. English, for example, used to be something akin to German and Icelandic, completely indistinguishable from what it is today. But partially because of groups like the Académie, French is no longer the lingua franca of business and international relations (oh the irony), and English has stepped in to fill that void as America has risen to economic power over the past two hundred years.
All this being said, as I was beginning to write a completely different post earlier, I happened to include the word passerby in the opening paragraph. Ardent logophile that I am and being prone to jump from one thought to another at the slightest provocation, I thought how wonderful was the plural of said word. How often does one get the pleasure of negating all the usual grammatical rules for pluralization by inserting an "s" into the middle of a word to make it plural? Lovely. Despite the rebellious excitement that stirs in me each time I say passersby, it does actually conform to English grammar. The rule is this: one pluralizes nouns, not modifiers. By is merely describing the passers, and just as we would not say "the purples eggplant" to pluralize "the purple eggplant," so we should not say passerbies. This case, however, is fairly well known and many people would say passersby if they thought about it for a second.
What about these words, though: spoonful, cupful, attorney general? Although it is grammatically correct to say spoonsful, cupsful, and attorneys general, most people would simply add an "s" to the end of each word to pluralize it. In fact, I don't think I have ever heard anyone use anything other than spoonfuls. In looking around for interesting factoids, I ran across another fellow's blog talking specifically about football time outs and whether it was actually correct to say time outs or if it should be times out. While he concludes that time outs is correct, as do I, I disagree with his reasoning. He says that since it is a two-word construction, requiring both words to make sense, that you should just add an "s" to the end of it. I think his point is correct, but I do not think it holds for time out. I will explain using another example in his blog.
Earlier in the post he condones attorneys general as a correct plural since general simply describes attorney. While I think grammarians would agree, I do not. I am inclined to think that attorney general is actually a two-word construction, especially since we took the phrase from French as a single unit. If it were two separate parts we would not put the adjective after the noun in the French manner but would rather say general attorney. So firstly, I think it should be attorney generals because it is a two-word construction, and I think that is a good example of the rule that he wishes to apply to time out. But I do not think time out is the same since it is like passerby with two distinct parts that are logical. "Time that is out of play" = "time out" seems analogous to "passer who is walking by" = "passerby." So it makes since that "times that are out of play" = "times out" since "passers who are walking by" = "passersby." Therefore, I think grammatically it should be times out, but that makes absolutely no difference to me, because I like time outs better, and that is the point.
So after all this quasi-technical ado, it comes down to the fact that English is quite willing to change and the change betters our language. After all, football would seem utterly less rough and manly if all the announcers went around saying spoonsful, cupsful, and attorneys general (for they do often ramble to unrelated topics). "I would like two spoonsful of sugar in my tea whilst I wait for the attorneys general of the nearby towns to take their seats. Then we shall commence with this brutish game which I loathe to see. Viewers are certainly in for savagery today, Bob." So while times out may accidentally come out of the mouth of an announcer from time to time, I'm sure it will die out soon. And since "incorrect" grammar is definitely rough and manly, I'm all about it. As one wiser than I once said, "I love grammar," and I completely agree, but it's fun when grammar changes. Then maybe in five hundred years people will look back on our current tongue as a foreign language, just as we do on that of our forebears. Perhaps they will have an even more rebellious way of pluralizing time out. The thought gives me shivers.
Oxfordian Paradox
Sunday night I attended my first Evensong, the Anglican equivalent of Catholic Vespers and the night Mass mashed together into one. Never having been to a service in a cathedral, I was rather impressed. Even though the Oxford Cathedral (which is the Christ Church chapel) is one of the smallest cathedrals in Europe, it was still marvelous. The service consisted of a variety of prayers and songs and chants, all of them quite lovely. But after about half an hour, I found myself contorting into strange shapes to relieve my back from such perpendicularity. Wooden benches with backs don’t allow much spine curvature, it seems, and my slouching habits simply did not get along with the pews. And it was a bit difficult, as a newcomer, to sing along with the hymns since the words and the music were separated on the page. But despite these minor grievances, the service accomplished a major achievement that I found noteworthy: it did not contradict itself. Hard wooden seats, slightly difficult songbooks, low lighting: all these things felt quite appropriate for the setting. Worship cannot be too comfortable. This service, among the many things I have done so far, was completely true to itself. Other aspects of Oxford are not quite so.
I love my college. St Antony’s is a true community. Sure, it’s not the oldest college around; it’s not even well situated. But everyone is so extraordinarily friendly that I think it is well worth it to have less history and sub-prime real estate (though hopefully not a similar mortgage!). My venerable college, however, suffers from a fatal flaw, a cancer: it builds ugly buildings. If you check out St Antony’s website, the main building pictured is the Lodge, housing the porters’ area, the library, offices, etc. It’s a nice building; though not as stately as Balliol, Christ Church, or Magdalen, it is still lovely. But there is a terrible secret; she has the name Hilda Besse. (Be afraid; be very afraid!) This hideous concrete monstrosity is a sad excuse for architecture. Almost entirely concrete, the Hilda Besse building looks like a discarded design for a trash compactor that the artist neglected to paint because it was so hopeless. And what’s worse, it is a protected building! Yes, this building, to architecture what a polka dotted leisure suit is to fashion, cannot be altered in any way - something about what lovely symmetry it has I think. Sadness overwhelms me when I think that £2 million (or so I hear) is spent every year in upkeep of this eyesore because its faulty design cannot be fixed. Tragic.
But, I wouldn’t be too upset just about Hilda. Hilda is a wonderful name, after all, and the place provides good food for a cheap price and a rather comfortable common room. I’m sure I will have many good times in Hilda’s company. So I was prepared to forgive St Antony’s of its grievous sin until I read more on the website. It seems my college is determined to continue its tradition of awful building designs. In the coming years will be built a new Middle Eastern Studies Centre, which will look like a space-age corset turned on its side, connecting the lodge and the Hilda Besse. Woe to us all. So there we have contradiction number one: extreme, almost laughable contrasts in architecture. Although my college does seem to be a nucleus of this bipolarism, it can be seen elsewhere too. And may I point out, just to be clear, that I really love my college and all its members; but I very much think it a shame that the lovely old convent that forms the center of the college should be disgraced by such shameful “modern” buildings in its company.
But my feelings on architecture aside, Oxford has plenty of other contradictions running through its veins, and there are a number of pleasant and comical ones. For instance, compared to the States, England is full of environmentalists to the hilt. This I have no problem with, for most of them are quite reasonable and are simply concerned that people take simple steps to make the Earth a better place (like recycling and other easy tasks). When you go to the local grocery (Sainsbury’s), the cashier always asks if you want bags, assuming that most people will present a reusable bag rather than continue hurting the local dale by using plastic. And there are a number of green clubs and societies available to promote green initiatives. But despite all of the greenery, the University every year chops down at least 660 trees to publish one single, completely worthless edition (if you ask for my calculations, I will provide them – they are based on Oxford figures and information from conservatree.com – the estimate is quite conservative). This, my friends, is the veritable Examinations Regulations book, published annually and given to every single new student. Weighing in at about five pounds, this 1100 page masterpiece contains the rules and regulations of every single degree offered at Oxford, both undergraduate and graduate. If you want to use Akkadian as your language for a degree in Oriental Studies, or if you want a postgraduate certificate in the Provision of Healthcare to Homeless People, now you can quickly discover the proper coursework and requirements. In this weighty tome, the specifications for my degree (an MPhil in Economics) take up less than two full pages, and my program’s induction told me everything I needed to know anyway. So it really is worthless. Unless, of course, you sell it on ebay for $150 to a tourist wanting an authentic piece of Oxford (I have it on good evidence that this has occurred). In any case, to all you environmentalists out there, you have a new target; until it is abolished, though, we can all chuckle at the ridiculous contradiction that is the Exam Regulation book.
There are yet other contradictions: for me, a Southern boy, to see such a green landscape (the color, that is) while feeling such cold weather is quite the paradox. Then there is the fact that I just returned from the common room, where tea is had whilst watching the Simpsons most every evening. And of course there is the most obvious of them all, the modernity surrounding the medieval buildings. Whether it is the bus system or the cell phones or the always fashionable British youth, Oxford is a cauldron of the ages. And that is precisely what will bring me back to visit after my degree is complete. This is a city that is always changing but always the same; it is an ever-aging body with an ever-progressive mind. And I admit there is a draw to those ridiculous buildings that spring up from time to time. It reminds us that old buildings do not imply solely old notions in their denizens. And as much as I think the old notions of architecture are better than the new, this is not the case in all fields and I would be foolish to forget it. So I raise my glass to this city of past and present; may it have an unforeseeable future.
I love my college. St Antony’s is a true community. Sure, it’s not the oldest college around; it’s not even well situated. But everyone is so extraordinarily friendly that I think it is well worth it to have less history and sub-prime real estate (though hopefully not a similar mortgage!). My venerable college, however, suffers from a fatal flaw, a cancer: it builds ugly buildings. If you check out St Antony’s website, the main building pictured is the Lodge, housing the porters’ area, the library, offices, etc. It’s a nice building; though not as stately as Balliol, Christ Church, or Magdalen, it is still lovely. But there is a terrible secret; she has the name Hilda Besse. (Be afraid; be very afraid!) This hideous concrete monstrosity is a sad excuse for architecture. Almost entirely concrete, the Hilda Besse building looks like a discarded design for a trash compactor that the artist neglected to paint because it was so hopeless. And what’s worse, it is a protected building! Yes, this building, to architecture what a polka dotted leisure suit is to fashion, cannot be altered in any way - something about what lovely symmetry it has I think. Sadness overwhelms me when I think that £2 million (or so I hear) is spent every year in upkeep of this eyesore because its faulty design cannot be fixed. Tragic.
But, I wouldn’t be too upset just about Hilda. Hilda is a wonderful name, after all, and the place provides good food for a cheap price and a rather comfortable common room. I’m sure I will have many good times in Hilda’s company. So I was prepared to forgive St Antony’s of its grievous sin until I read more on the website. It seems my college is determined to continue its tradition of awful building designs. In the coming years will be built a new Middle Eastern Studies Centre, which will look like a space-age corset turned on its side, connecting the lodge and the Hilda Besse. Woe to us all. So there we have contradiction number one: extreme, almost laughable contrasts in architecture. Although my college does seem to be a nucleus of this bipolarism, it can be seen elsewhere too. And may I point out, just to be clear, that I really love my college and all its members; but I very much think it a shame that the lovely old convent that forms the center of the college should be disgraced by such shameful “modern” buildings in its company.
But my feelings on architecture aside, Oxford has plenty of other contradictions running through its veins, and there are a number of pleasant and comical ones. For instance, compared to the States, England is full of environmentalists to the hilt. This I have no problem with, for most of them are quite reasonable and are simply concerned that people take simple steps to make the Earth a better place (like recycling and other easy tasks). When you go to the local grocery (Sainsbury’s), the cashier always asks if you want bags, assuming that most people will present a reusable bag rather than continue hurting the local dale by using plastic. And there are a number of green clubs and societies available to promote green initiatives. But despite all of the greenery, the University every year chops down at least 660 trees to publish one single, completely worthless edition (if you ask for my calculations, I will provide them – they are based on Oxford figures and information from conservatree.com – the estimate is quite conservative). This, my friends, is the veritable Examinations Regulations book, published annually and given to every single new student. Weighing in at about five pounds, this 1100 page masterpiece contains the rules and regulations of every single degree offered at Oxford, both undergraduate and graduate. If you want to use Akkadian as your language for a degree in Oriental Studies, or if you want a postgraduate certificate in the Provision of Healthcare to Homeless People, now you can quickly discover the proper coursework and requirements. In this weighty tome, the specifications for my degree (an MPhil in Economics) take up less than two full pages, and my program’s induction told me everything I needed to know anyway. So it really is worthless. Unless, of course, you sell it on ebay for $150 to a tourist wanting an authentic piece of Oxford (I have it on good evidence that this has occurred). In any case, to all you environmentalists out there, you have a new target; until it is abolished, though, we can all chuckle at the ridiculous contradiction that is the Exam Regulation book.
There are yet other contradictions: for me, a Southern boy, to see such a green landscape (the color, that is) while feeling such cold weather is quite the paradox. Then there is the fact that I just returned from the common room, where tea is had whilst watching the Simpsons most every evening. And of course there is the most obvious of them all, the modernity surrounding the medieval buildings. Whether it is the bus system or the cell phones or the always fashionable British youth, Oxford is a cauldron of the ages. And that is precisely what will bring me back to visit after my degree is complete. This is a city that is always changing but always the same; it is an ever-aging body with an ever-progressive mind. And I admit there is a draw to those ridiculous buildings that spring up from time to time. It reminds us that old buildings do not imply solely old notions in their denizens. And as much as I think the old notions of architecture are better than the new, this is not the case in all fields and I would be foolish to forget it. So I raise my glass to this city of past and present; may it have an unforeseeable future.
Heroic Epithets
There are certain traditions that I’m glad died out. The plague, for instance, was a very bad tradition. I’m also not really into human sacrifice, blowing one’s nose onto one’s necktie, or chucking toilet refuse into the street (though the gentlemanly tradition of walking nearest the road when ambling down the sidewalk with a lady survives as a remnant of the refuse tossing tradition: since upper floors often jutted out over the street, the person closest to the street was most likely to be struck by falling missiles). Indeed, some traditions were fated to go, and I wish them well.
However, and I’m sure Ivan the Terrible would agree, official epithets and superfluous suffixes are traditions that never should have bitten the dust. Whether it is Æthelred the Unready or Hroth, Dragon Slayer of Ripgaard, those catchy and appropriate little additions make all the difference. The medieval chic-ness (if anything medieval is chic) is staggering, leaving opponents with inferior names utterly unprepared for the speedy death rendered unto them by their well-named superiors. I know ordinary old JP Waldroup would be too busy trying to understand the implications of the name Culwych, Ogre Thrasher of Cardiff, to protect himself from the undoubtedly potent onslaught soon to follow cordial introductions on the battlefield. It’s a bit unfair really.
So in order to make up for our epoch’s lack of heroic epithets, I have devised a table by which we can all add appropriately vexing and completely gratuitous titles to our everyday names. All you have to do is match up the first letter of each of your names with the appropriate entries in the table below. For instance, I, JP Waldroup, would become JP Waldroup, Mosquito Eradicator of Rotterdam, much more intimidating than before. Make sure to pronounce things dramatically too. Don’t just say mosquito, say moe-SKI-toe. It adds a whole new dimension. I have included a variety of ridiculous and more serious entries to keep it interesting. I hope you enjoy; do post your new names (and take them to heart). Perhaps we will vote on the best ones.
However, and I’m sure Ivan the Terrible would agree, official epithets and superfluous suffixes are traditions that never should have bitten the dust. Whether it is Æthelred the Unready or Hroth, Dragon Slayer of Ripgaard, those catchy and appropriate little additions make all the difference. The medieval chic-ness (if anything medieval is chic) is staggering, leaving opponents with inferior names utterly unprepared for the speedy death rendered unto them by their well-named superiors. I know ordinary old JP Waldroup would be too busy trying to understand the implications of the name Culwych, Ogre Thrasher of Cardiff, to protect himself from the undoubtedly potent onslaught soon to follow cordial introductions on the battlefield. It’s a bit unfair really.
So in order to make up for our epoch’s lack of heroic epithets, I have devised a table by which we can all add appropriately vexing and completely gratuitous titles to our everyday names. All you have to do is match up the first letter of each of your names with the appropriate entries in the table below. For instance, I, JP Waldroup, would become JP Waldroup, Mosquito Eradicator of Rotterdam, much more intimidating than before. Make sure to pronounce things dramatically too. Don’t just say mosquito, say moe-SKI-toe. It adds a whole new dimension. I have included a variety of ridiculous and more serious entries to keep it interesting. I hope you enjoy; do post your new names (and take them to heart). Perhaps we will vote on the best ones.
More coming soon!
Hello readers! It has been too long, but alas, it will be yet longer. I should have internet connection in my flat starting this Wednesday, so you can expect me to be posting again regularly after that. Check back soon for the latest!
History and Truth
History gets a bad rap. Historians these days so often encase the most fabulous of stories in the drabbest apparel possible. I believe history serves two important functions primarily: to inspire us to love who we are and to prevent us from committing the same mistakes repeatedly. Our prior days would easily succeed at these two outcomes if historians hadn’t gone to pot and the public ceased to study the subject with any intent. I have never been less enthralled by any books than by the history textbooks I was forced to consume as a high schooler. Even Hemingway, whom I abhor, could not come close to the hellish experience of wading through The Enduring Vision, my US history textbook, and the book dubbed Gertrude and Bartholomew (actually, I don’t recall the two authors’ names, so these will have to suffice) by my European history class. I have nothing against the teachers of those classes, in fact, I rather enjoyed them. But the textbooks – complete refuse. Somehow they were justified by the breadth of information made available compared to other texts. But I say, bother the dates of so-and-so’s death. If I don’t lift my eyes from the textbook feeling the importance of my own history deep in my innards, but rather let my eyelids fall in stupefied slumber and drool proceed freely from my lips because of the utter boredom cast upon me, then the book is a failure, and the author should never again be consulted.
You see, harsh though I may seem, I absolutely love history, but I was never firmly sure of this truth until I encountered historians who were willing to add a bit of opinion to their interpretations without fear of scorn. History has become so wrapped up in unbiasedness that no one is willing to make a judgment or offer deeper significance to any event. In my opinion, it is the historian’s job to offer a pattern behind history, a logical series of events that explain why things happened, not just that they happened. It should then be the duty of the reader (or professor) to assess the validity of that historian’s interpretation. And the history should be interpreted in such a way that it can be applied to the present. For as we know, those who are ignorant of the past are doomed to repeat it.
Historians today seem to think it is good to prattle on endlessly about the common man, the everyday happenings of the peasants. Forgive me, but that is so unspeakably boring – how can anyone expect to catch the interest of a young boy with talk of the attire of a tanner in Plymouth? They want stories of war and glory, of adventure and triumph, even of loss and despair. But they simply don’t care about how many ounces of bread the average man ate daily in 1702. There’s a reason myths and fairy tales from ages past are still around, and there’s a reason why they still apply to current situations. History bears equally enthralling stories and applicable lessons if only we would teach them. All this nonsense about everyone’s perspective being equally valid has sucked the merit out of history. Truth is there, but it must be sought out and applied. That is why I love historians who are willing to offer their take on a situation, even if it is dead wrong, and actually believe what they say without shame. If they are wrong, and are proven so, I believe they would recognize their failure.
Here is an example of what I mean. Suppose I were to say the following, “Just as Christians killed countless ‘heretics’ before the Reformation took hold and slowly led to more peaceful sects and the resolution of doctrinal issues with fewer deaths, so Islam needs a reformation to end its violent sectarian nature.” Whether I am right or wrong, I am still opinionated and I am actively seeking truth. If instead I add the tag “but you may disagree; what is good for you is good for you,” then I have forsaken history. History is meant to be interpreted, and there are correct interpretations as well as false ones. But it is better to take an incorrect stance and willingly accept correction than it is to take no stance at all. At least if you take a stance you encourage others to find fault in it so that by and by your stance is honed and refined into something truly meritorious. If you allow for the correctness of all vantage points, no progress is ever made and you are left ignorant. Indeed, anyone would admit that it is foolish to say that 2+2=4 but that you may have your own equally correct opinion on the matter. People believing 2+2=5 need correction, not tolerance. I would rather be wrong from time to time taking an intellectual stand for something I hold true than fail to encourage inspection of truth by my fellow man; I do not want a society full of people willing to tolerate lies as relative truth.
Michael Ramsden, a smart fellow, quoted some other smart fellow about truth and it went something like this: if someone tells you there is no such thing as truth, he is asking you not to believe him, so don’t. Obviously that first clause cannot be ‘true’ if there is no such thing as truth, so there must be truth.
I am currently reading Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West, a sort of historical and cultural inspection of the Balkans via travelogue. It was written just as World War II was breaking out and West’s distaste for the Germans as a result is evident. Some believe that her bias taints her work too much to be considered good history. Although I have not read the entire work yet, her perception and understanding of history’s impact on the present is astounding and clear, and I much admire it. This is how history should be. It connects Balkan history back to Roman times and shows the clear sequence of events leading to current culture and attitudes. And what I especially enjoy is that she is very matter of fact: one event led to another, combined with another event, and voilà, a plausible reason why we have the current situation. She doesn’t beat around the bush or pander to her rivals; she clearly states her opinion as fact and moves on. It is clear that she would change her mind if you offered sufficient evidence to the contrary, but given the available information, she forms a blatant hypothesis and offers it in the face of all naysayers. This is the sort of history that inspires and the sort of writing that encourages others to find truth rather than admit all suggestions as reasonable. While all men are created equal, all ideas are not.
I would feel insufficient if I did not conclude with an equally direct statement. Thus, I will be clear. There is absolute truth. Regarding all truth as relative is an excuse to hide behind, an unwillingness to search and learn, an extreme laziness of mind. It is much easier to say everyone is equally right, and that’s why so many people do it. But it is simply ridiculous to say so and it yields nothing good. If all truth is relative, then how is it that Hitler or Stalin were wrong? It also seems that the relativists often have strong political leanings, but how is any politician better than another if there is no truth? It is all absurdity. Don’t fall for it. Have an opinion.
Posts
