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You Can’t be Neutral on a Moving Train

In honor of my historiography class in which we read That Noble Dream, and in memory of Howard Zinn, who passed away on Wednesday, I thought I would say a few words on the concepts of Relativity and Objectivity.

I am a relativist.

I do not say this because I intend to speak politically in class, or blatantly misrepresent history for personal or public gain, but because relativism is perhaps the best way to represent my own life philosophy. Before I dive too deeply into what relativism means for how I address history and life, let me first define objectivity and its realms for historians. There are three:

1) Teaching: This is the education ethics of history, calling into question what is being taught and why. Teaching history should teach how to research, how to think, how argue and how to write, as much as it should teach what happened in the past. Teaching should not be relative and the teacher should at least attempt to be objective.
2) Metholodogy: This is how research is conducted. Objectivity should be evident here, but people across the borders of philosophies will often appear objective in their methodology because that is the defining factor of a professional historian. If someone has a problem with someone else’s method they will call it into question, and if enough people agree, then that work can and will be discredited.
3) Philosophy: Here is where the real debate about Objectivity and Relativity come in, and refer to whether or not there is one universal truth in history that the profession is collectively working towards. The example of this that I keep using is Hegel and the universal truth that all of history is the work of God.

I am not objective because I inherently believe that true objectivity is only possible by a hypothetical, truly unbiased third-party, but that any form of consciousness inherently provides some bias. True objectivity is impossible, and for humans any sort is pretty much out of the question. I also believe Collingwood’s theory that the past does not exist and history is the past as relived by a mind in the present. Historians serve to build a collective body of historical work that supplements and builds on documents and mementos from the past which provide a framework for people of all stripes present and future to relive it for themselves. Since history is intensely personal, it is inevitably relative.

Let me be clear, there is a past that actually happened, but it is no longer real, rather an image or remembrance of that past occurs. For particular instances it is more accurate and close to the actual events, but it is impossible to be perfect.

If, however, a historian feels justified looking for a higher truth, or believes strongly in it or does so for any other reason, then I find no cause for anger on my part. If their work is good and methodology sound, then I have no issue with it. And if they find a higher truth in my work, though it will not be intentionally included by me, then I see no reason to dissuade them of it.

This spills over into the rest of my life philosophy, especially spirituality and religion, where each person has their own outlook and no two will be exactly alike. This is not atheist, since I do not necessarily believe that no god exists, nor agnostic, since it is not that we can not know about God, nor ignostic that the concept of God assumes too much, nor even really polytheist. The best descriptor I have is relativist
In honor of my historiography class in which we read That Noble Dream, and in memory of Howard Zinn, who passed away on Wednesday, I thought I would say a few words on the concepts of Relativity and Objectivity.

I am a relativist.

I do not say this because I intend to speak politically in class, or blatantly misrepresent history for personal or public gain, but because relativism is perhaps the best way to represent my own life philosophy. Before I dive too deeply into what relativism means for how I address history and life, let me first define objectivity and its realms for historians. There are three:

1) Teaching: This is the education ethics of history, calling into question what is being taught and why. Teaching history should teach how to research, how to think, how argue and how to write, as much as it should teach what happened in the past. Teaching should not be relative and the teacher should at least attempt to be objective.
2) Metholodogy: This is how research is conducted. Objectivity should be evident here, but people across the borders of philosophies will often appear objective in their methodology because that is the defining factor of a professional historian. If someone has a problem with someone else’s method they will call it into question, and if enough people agree, then that work can and will be discredited.
3) Philosophy: Here is where the real debate about Objectivity and Relativity come in, and refer to whether or not there is one universal truth in history that the profession is collectively working towards. The example of this that I keep using is Hegel and the universal truth that all of history is the work of God.

I am not objective because I inherently believe that true objectivity is only possible by a hypothetical, truly unbiased third-party, but that any form of consciousness inherently provides some bias. True objectivity is impossible, and for humans any sort is pretty much out of the question. I also believe Collingwood’s theory that the past does not exist and history is the past as relived by a mind in the present. Historians serve to build a collective body of historical work that supplements and builds on documents and mementos from the past which provide a framework for people of all stripes present and future to relive it for themselves. Since history is intensely personal, it is inevitably relative.

Let me be clear, there is a past that actually happened, but it is no longer real, rather an image or remembrance of that past occurs. For particular instances it is more accurate and close to the actual events, but it is impossible to be perfect.

If, however, a historian feels justified looking for a higher truth, or believes strongly in it, or does so for any other reason, then I find no cause for anger on my part. If their work is good and methodology sound, then I have no issue with it. And if they find a higher truth in my work, though it will not be intentionally included by me, then I see no reason to dissuade them of it.

This spills over into the rest of my life philosophy, especially spirituality and religion, where each person has their own outlook and no two will be exactly alike. This is not atheist, since I do not necessarily believe that no god exists, nor agnostic, since it is not that we can not know about God, nor ignostic that the concept of God assumes too much, nor even really polytheist. The best descriptor I have is relativist

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Antigonos the One-eyed and Seleukos Nikator (Ptolemy Soter can go cry in the corner)

In his conclusions about Antigonos the One-eyed, Richard Billows throws out some highly subjective, albeit reasoned claims. In some ways this is what the conclusion is for. Throughout the book he portrays Antigonos as the larger than life figure he was, as well as the general, diplomat and administrator that he probably was, but which we have no documentation for. In short, the claim is that Antigonos was the greatest of the successors because he was the lynch-pin that bound Argead Monarchy with the Hellenistic age, both as the epitome of a Hellenistic king and the progenitor of the institutions.

Antigonos was essential for the early Hellenistic period and implemented a fairly typical Hellenistic monarchy, not so much because he developed it, but because the Hellenistic monarchy was effectively the same as the Macedonian one and the most notable changes made were those of necessity, not design. As for his generalship, he was better than most, but Seleukos also has a claim to that standing since he was the architect of the Battle of Gaza in 312, defeated all attempts to remove him from Babylon and then commanded at Ipsos where he defeated Antigonos. If that is not a claim to being the superior general, I am not sure what is, but I digress.

As an aside in the conclusion, Billows mentions that the Seleukid Empire overextended into the east, separating it from the Mediterranean and allowing Asia Minor to splinter off. This, he claims, brought about its fall as it was unable to suitably respond to Rome and to the Parthians of Iran. He is both right and wrong. It is true that the Seleukid Empire over-extended, and fell to those two new powers almost two hundred years later, but neglects to mention that Seleukos founded his kingdom more than any other Hellenistic successor on the use of native troops, and his levy was from Babylon eastward. At Ipsos Seleukos led a varied force of heavy and light cavalry from Iran and Media, elephants from India, and infantry of a disparate background. Yes, over-extension became an issue, and yes, Seleukos was a Macedonian1, but his power base was the eastern satrapies. Later he and subsequent rulers attempted to reassert the empire as Mediterranean in nature, but it really was not. The struggle between that perception and the reality led to the over-extension, though it clearly did not result in immediate implosion.


1 Or an Epirote, if you believe Strabo about the ethnicity of Orestians, and Grainger about Seleukos’ family origin (citing the appearance of the name Antiochos attested only in that royal family). He probably was somehow related to the royal family of Orestis, though likely settled in northern Lower Macedonia during the time of Philip, so Seleukos would have grown up Lower Macedonian, but still had close ties westward.

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Standardized Tests and Exit Exams

Early in the ‘03-’04 school year I was a senior in high school, class president and somewhere along the line I heard that I was supposed to attend student council meetings among my ‘duties’. I recall going to just one meeting: I sat on a table at the rear of the room as we were joined by members of the school board. The topic that day was standardized tests as Hazen Union had performed unacceptably and was close to losing funding under No Child Left Behind. We talked about the testing and ways to improve the scores, though I mostly railed against standardized tests at all, citing their ludicrous nature and how abysmally set up they were, especially in teaching to the test rather than teaching how to learn. In retrospect, I was really not helpful that afternoon.

The verdict was that students had no conception of why they were taking the tests, just that they were. Since early in elementary school the teachers had emphasized that the tests did not matter, which is not the same thing as not receiving a grade.1 Long story short, a group from the council was to have a discussion with each class about trying hard on the test, and I was volunteered to lead it.2 Thankfully it never actually happened, and now the high school is on some list of best high schools in the country, so ‘crisis’ averted. Now I am sure there are great teachers there, but considering the number of great teachers who have since retired or left for other reasons, I find it hard to fathom that the school went from the chopping block to highly esteemed in so few years.3

It seems odd to reminisce about this episode six years down the line and half a continent away, but today I read an article on the New York Times website about the continued proliferation of high school exit exams in the face of criticism–and more to come. Find the article here.

While I do not believe that decisions are made arbitrarily or maliciously on a large scale, they may still be misguided. Really three issues emerge: first the value of standardized tests, second the value of standardized exit exams, third the purpose of schools.

1) Standardized tests are made to ensure that every student is learning a certain amount, which is an enviable goal, but ultimately restricts teachers from teaching. Instead there is a situation where the powers that be decide what needs to be learned. In the humanities this is even more exaggerated since it often falls to rote memorization or simple narrative to make sure that the kids know what they need to know to perform on demand. Naturally funding is tied to these tests.

Of course the most gain to be had in those fields where testing names, dates, etc, is taking place is inherently in their flexibility. The chance for teachers to deviate from merely a time-line and engage students, or go beyond the novels deemed useful, but not too controversial, to engage the students, expose them to something new and teach them to think–rather the opposite from brainwashing, or nap-time.

This is just the current gripe, and while they are also a waste of time, the list could keep going on and on.

2) As bad as standardized tests are, exit exams are worse, and this is the focus of the article. A common effect of these exams is that dropout rates increase as students are held back by the district. Now at some level it may be good, and any system of grades that includes an ‘F’ equivalent and yet forces the students to be there until a certain age will hold some back, but exit exams increase that percentage as a second filter beyond the classes grades appears. The first problem here is that it inherently assumes that the teachers are unable to deal with students who do not keep up. The assumption adds to that of other standardized tests, only is an across the board assessment of those teachers, every year, soon to be kindergarten through high school.4

The more pressing issue in all of this is that exit exams are being simplified to make sure that most students can pass the tests. This defeats the purpose of the tests.

If, as claimed, these tests will ensure that high schoolers are ready for college, and that the powers that be decided that kids need to know a certain amount of information before graduating, then that is what they need to know. Reducing the standards because the education system did not rise to the expectations makes the test a waste of time and money, while keeping the standards and holding more students back admits failure of the education. In either situation the tests make no sense at all.

Either there needs to be continued evaluation of coursework, participation, and the rest of the traditional barometers of grading in each individual subject, or a single test at the end. Doubling them up makes the traditional grades moot, unless the students must first jump through those hoops to even take the exit examination.

3) In their work Who Killed Homer?, classicist John Heath and historian Victor Davis Hanson suggested that modern education pounds people into one broad mold, which continually restricts as people fall away until a select few academic masochists with no perceivable teaching skills emerge with PhD’s, everyone else choosing a point of this road to stop. Their suggestion, much in line with vocational schools and some college programs is that schools must teach skills, not just books. Traditional education usually consisted of skill training for most of the population, while only a select group even did academic work up through high school.

A re-division of society along those lines is too extreme and entirely infeasible, but merits thought. The goal of public high school education is college preparation, a rounded course of education that will enable students to succeed in college. Yet not all of those students will go to college, so the school must also teach this rounded skill set to those students, averaging out what curriculum is expected.

Everyone should know basic history, be able to read, write and do arithmetic, but academics is not for everyone. Once beyond the capacity to perform those functions, the more important task is to engage the students,5 push creativity and interest, which is only inhibited by making these students jump through ever increasing hoops.


As a quick aside, standardized tests basically ensure that schools cannot reasonably teach history to its fullest. A good teacher can still get students excited by the topic, but the beauty of it is how versatile history is towards promoting thinking. Anyone who knows how to research can learn that the Declaration of Independence was July 4, 1776, or that Caesar was assassinated on the Ides of March, 44 BCE, but without reading too much into the situations, both mark times and situations when people stood up and threw down tyranny and government overreach.

If only it were that easy for school reform.


1 Though I have heard some stories from my mother about my early schooling that make this oversight look quite good in comparison.
2 Yes, someone else volunteered me.
3 Those distinctions were based somewhat on different criteria, but not wholly.
4 Please, can someone tell me what exactly we are testing kindergartners on to let them move to first grade? I remember playing with blocks and going to time-out for throwing clay…I am not seeing much of an exit exam in all of that.
5 Incidents in middle and high school where I know I was not engaged (all during class): taping a friend to a door, napping outside in the sun, witnessing someone stapling his pants to his leg, reading kosher dietary regulations…to the class, singing little bunny foo-foo as a class to the freshmen in the next classroom, and ditching group projects to calculate how many dimples there were on a basketball (somewhere around 23,000, if I recall correctly).

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Semester in Review – Fall 2009

The first semester of graduate school is over. I made friends, broke hearts and took names, or something like that. More to the point I learned a lot about departmental and academic politics, nuances to writing and methodology, a good bit about Greek, and even a little bit about history.

Most of all, the lesson that Grad school is a marathon and not a sprint, has been hammered home. I put in the work and enjoyed some of it, but much of the time it was slogging through.

Not having been in any other graduate program, I cannot speak for how it is elsewhere, but on the whole the class-work was disappointing. I learned a lot, at least for Greek and Greek history, but in the latter case it was the product of extensive reading on my own in preparation for class, rather than class discussion that was the genesis of this learning. Both of my history courses required a term paper, the Greek history seminar being the more intensive of the two and an actual progression and leap from work I did at Brandeis, but the Roman history paper was not really any different from something I could or would have done there.

During the classes themselves, I felt that the language was useful, but the other two were superficial and really beneficial. Roman history this was a product of an undergraduate focus, where many issues I would have loved to discuss outside of class came up, but were only touched upon. In Greek history there was the potential to delve deeper, but more than once I was told by the professor that an issue I wanted to raise or discuss would result in just the two of us talking, and thus defeated the purpose of a discussion based seminar. I have not yet gotten everything I can out of this program (which is well, since I am just a semester in), and Ian Worthington is one of the best in the field, but it is this type of isolation amidst literary classicists, and non-ancient historians that makes me wonder if I would be better off milking it for everything I can, but then changing schools for the PhD to somewhere where I would have colleagues—both positive and negative implications of that word intended.

But that is for the future. What matters in the present is that I am back studying what I love, and have successfully completed my first semester of graduate school.

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Biography

The subject matter for this book is fascinating; Venice at the height of its power and the portrait of Titian make for a great premise. But that is not what the book is about, and in a real way the main character is not Titian, but rather Mark Hudson, right along with the gripping dialogue between himself and various personages he met while researching the book. Although the kernel of thought that prompted the investigation might have been trying to recreate what happened in Titian’s last days, that was not the book that Hudson wrote. A more apt title would be ‘Investigating Titian: fact, recollection and reputation.’ Then the title would at least describe the subject matter and forewarn the potential reader.

It is clear through the reading that the author researched extensively and has some background in the field, but without so much as a list of works addressed in the text it feels more like an article for a periodical a la National Geographic, than a serious book. That is, if National Geographic would publish an article of nearly three hundred pages.

The Last Days of Titian is an assorted jumble, seemingly arranged by chronology of research more than anything else, though there is a loose connection to Titian’s life. This biography was difficult to read and hard to get at what it was Hudson intended for the reader to see. He wrote as a journalist in hunt of a story, and while he may be that, his story is five hundred years gone, and his tone, style and methodology was largely inappropriate for a biography of this sort. I would not recommend this book to anyone, and would be disinclined to read anything by Hudson beyond a periodical article.

I wrote the above about a biography of Titian. It was one of the most frustrating books I have ever read, and in particular modern biographies. Hudson is a journalist, and while I may have been more keenly aware of the shortcomings of that particular profession because I had read a scathing review of journalistic prose by George Orwell1 just before starting it, the flaws were there. Rather than approaching this biography as history, Hudson approached it as though it was a piece of journalism, and thus the reporter played heavily into the text. The book was not about Titian and the particular problem he was to address (whether or not Titian’s studio was robbed just after his death), but was about the hunt, about one man’s journey of discovery in a land where he did not speak the language.

For some biographies this may be wholly appropriate. For autobiographies, it is, in fact a necessity, and for more modern works, writing biographies where the author must make use of extensive interviews and conversations with people who knew or know the subject, this approach can work. Not so much for subjects further removed from the present.2

This is not to say that all biography must be perfectly academic, but there is a bare minimum standard that should be adhered to. A list of works cited, perhaps the images in question. Especially for biography dredged ‘from the depths of time’, historical biography, placing the subject on center stage and locating them firmly in a setting, time period and circumstance, while following their life and work in some logical order is a must. Journalistic biography, placing the subject in that context, but including vast swathes of narrative about the investigation itself is detrimental to the overall picture presented by the biography.

1 For a summary of this critique, see the Wikipedia article.
2 I also took slight offense to Hudson’s complaint about the difficulties in dredging out a clear picture from the ‘distant’ past. Yes, 500 years is a long time, and yes, I can relate to his difficulties, but as someone who specializes in a period five times more distant, he has no ground to stand on in that regard.

Ancient Historians did not write history?

The following thoughts are retransmitted from and the product of a discussion held by Dr. Kurt Raaflaub, emeritus professor from Brown University, at The University of Missouri on the Ulterior Motives of these historians.

When the word history is mentioned, there is a certain preconception held, namely that there will follow a discussion of those events that came before. Often this would take the form of a simple narrative, with the emphasis on what happened, though with some discussion, too, of why, how, and the repercussions. In Greece and Rome there was a somewhat different conception of history.

What happened was of secondary importance, especially in contrast to why, how, and the overarching patterns. To this end, and to maintain audience interest, speeches could be added, depictions exaggerated, etc. At one level the changes fit the broader picture sought by the author, but at another it was meant as a tool of immediacy, a way to bring the past events home to the reader or listener.

Due to these it was suggested that perhaps ‘history’ is not the best descriptor of what these people were doing, but something of historical importance that also bears resemblance and kinship with drama, biography, poetry and others forms of artistic production. In particular there is the reverse assumption from today, not that the historian must remain removed from the subject, but that the historian must have personal involvement and passion (though not rancor)for the subject matter.

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The First Reconstruction of Athens: Between Salamis and Plataia

The story goes that between the defeat at Thermopylae and the arrival of the advance Persian troops at Athens, the Athenian leadership managed to remove the entire population of Attike to the island of Salamis. At this point it is commonly accepted that not all of the population went to Salamis, and that a sizable portion went either to Athens’ traditional rival Aigina,1to Salamis, or to the Peloponnese. For this reason, and simply the population of Attike at the time, the evacuation must have begun before Thermopylae. This may have also taken place under the supervision of Kimon, the son of Miltiades, since he was supposed to have led a procession among the first departures, Themistokles was with the fleet at Artemision, and the other two most prominent Athenian politicians of this section, Xanthippos and Aristides, were both Ostracized until almost immediately before Salamis.2

Now Xerxes sacked Athens, destroyed the acropolis, but after Salamis made preparations to withdraw, possibly disguising his intent by preparing to build a mole across to the island. In the fall of 480 Xerxes returned to Asia Minor, leaving Mardonios in Northern Greece with one large army, a second army in Thrace and a third in Northern Asia Minor. To set up these armies and withdraw at least beyond Thermopylae may have take upwards of two months past the Battle of Salamis, which took place in September of 480. Before the Battle of Plataia, Mardonios returned to Athens, first to enlist the Athenians to his side, and second to destroy the city as punishment when the refused. Purportedly he arrived in June of 479.

Assuming my time line laid out above from knowledge of the Persian logistical system, modern scholarship and superimposing the speeds on the way into Greece, this left at least six months between Xerxes’ departure and the return of Mardonios. Somehow between the two, at least some portion of Athenians decided that it was safe to rebuild and re-inhabit their city. Further, the process was well enough under way that it was worth the effort on Mardonios’ part to specifically come back, negotiate and then re-destroy the city, and possibly destroy a second harvest before withdrawing to Boiotia.

A second possibility is that the Persian army only destroyed the Acropolis the first time around. Strictly speaking Herodotus mentions that Thespiae and Plataia were sacked and that the temple complex on the Acropolis was destroyed when Xerxes took the city. That said it is hard to imagine that with such a huge force, and before and/or after losing Salamis, Xerxes did not simply have the city destroyed in its entirety. Further, he purportedly began construction of a mole to Salamis and, as Alexander would later do at Tyre, one convenient source of materials for a mole is a city (Alexander used New Tyre to build his).

While this thought process feels open ended, I have no answers, just a few half-completed thoughts about symbolism and that where the soul of a polis was the citizens, they needed that physical location, too. I just find the conception that rebuilding occurred so quickly after Salamis and before the Persian land army in Greece was defeated curious.

1 One of the reasons for the Athenian acceptance of Spartan hegemony is that it was a compromise Athens, Corinth and Aigina could accept and thereby both employ their fleets towards defense, rather than one or more withdrawing some or all to stop the others.

2 Unless the decree recalling the exiles took place before this time.

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Athenian Allies

In the funeral oration venerating the Athenian dead as reported by Thucydides, one of the themes is the inherent differences between Athenians and Spartans. Perikles strikes on government differences, educational differences, personality, et cetera, while praising Athens and downplaying the virtues of their opponents. One of the striking contrasts (according to the Perikles of Thucydides) is between bravery, as Perikles mentions that:

When the Spartans invade our land, they do not come by themselves, but bring all their allies with them; whereas we, when we launch an attack abroad, do the job by ourselves… (2.39)

He then goes to to describe that Athens never sends out its entire strength, so their enemies should fear that day, since they are already defeated by mere detachments.

In such a speech it stands to reason that he would praise the exploits of Athenians, exhorting and calling upon-as Admiral Nelson would later put it-’Every man to do his duty’. To say, though, that Athens stood alone where Sparta required contributions from their empire to invade Attike is nothing more than hyperbole, as it overlooks the nature of the Athenian ‘Empire’. Even further, during the first year of the war and increasingly thereafter, Athenian allies did contribute to military expeditions.

The Delian League was set up in such a way that the allies were required to submit either a certain number of troops or a certain amount of tribute. Lesbos, Chios, Zakynthos, Kerkyra and a small handful of other states repeatedly appear providing triremes for the Athenian fleet. Those that did not contribute instead provided Athens with money to build, equip, and man up to 250 triremes on active duty at any given time. These two aspects together make it so that Athens was hardly fighting alone, even on those occasions when it was a purely Athenian fleet raiding the Peloponnesian Shores. Sparta alone could summon an imposing army, but her league did not pay tribute to Sparta, but was geared instead to march at the call of Sparta. Thus the Peloponnesian War truly was between Sparta and her Allies and the Delian League, whether or not the financial contributions, if anything encouraged, were recognized.

Second, even before the Periklean strategy of limited operations was abandoned, Athenian allies contributed forces to the allied efforts, even if they were just tokens. After his death, Athens began to campaign more widely and instead of using their own forces, would often contribute a token force, supplemented with Messenian, Elian, Mantineian, or other allied forces. In particular these were hoplites, and wherever an Athenian fleet would go, they would enlist allies to make up the bulk of the force. Exceptions to this include Demosthenes’ Boiotia strategy where his force enlisted allies, while the main Athenian army bumbled into the Thebans at Delion and lost.

In some ways the vast over-extension of Athenian resources was enabled by the allies they could call upon, whether in Akarnania, Thrace, Sicily or the Peloponnese. In the infamous Sicilian Expedition, less than a third of the hoplites sent were Athenian; while the Athenian loss of life was staggering because of the fleet losses and reinforcements sent, a mitigating factor in it all was that a relatively small porportion were actually Athenians. Not that this helped much, but it should still be noted.

True, the speech is exhorting bravery of Athenians and the courage to abandon land and homes for the city, seeking to belittle the Spartans and simultaneously paying homage to that the vast majority of the fleet was Athenian; this is even without recognizing that the power of the Athenian fleet was magnified by skill to the point that they routinely were willing to engage Peloponnesian forces twice their size. It just manages to omit one of the key factors that enabled Athens to reach and then overreach.

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Harry Potter a must read?

It has been years since I first attempted to read Harry Potter and immediately lost interest. Part of it was snobbery on my part, and part was an innate reaction I have when people try and force me to read something I am generally not interested in doing. Then I was made to start reading it in Greek. We have not yet finished the first chapter in Greek, but not having read it first made the task incredibly difficult, so I broke down and read the first book. Once started, I figured I may as well read the whole series, so I have been going through them and I am understanding why they are a must read.

Although late to the fad, I am glad I have read this many and will finish the entire series, but what I find fascinating about this is that I generally do not like Harry all that much, and the same for Hermione and Ron. In some of the books, I have not liked even the main side characters, but unlike many series and fantasy novels, there are life lessons–especially for children.

Therefore, see here from me for the first time: Harry Potter should be a part of primary school (or Middle School at the latest) English curriculum.

This way, as with the intended audience, they can grow up with it, read them as they get increasingly more complicated and darker. It is about kinds growing up, so they may be able to relate to the situations, see examples of arguments, problem solving, interpersonal relations, bigotry, et cetera. Two things that J.K. Rowling does particularly well is to keep the story very readable and moving along, while placing her characters in situations where they address issues about responsibility, tolerance, problem solving and compassion; moreover this is not simply the students who do this, but also the teachers interacting with each other and the students. All the while the books do not preach at you, but simply have both positive and negative examples happen in ways that the reader knows the good ones and the bad ones–no matter who does it and what the reader’s other perceptions of the character may be.1

At another level, the language is easy enough that it could be used to help teach syntax and grammar, story telling elements and cross several levels of what the English Curriculum should include. Lastly, and almost most importantly it could help remove some of the stigma from the genre of fantasy fiction and encourage young people to read, which is not always the case with some of the assigned curriculum in schools.

Harry Potter will almost certainly never crack my top ten favorite books of all time, and may not break into the top fifty, but I am now on board with the idea that Harry Potter is a must read, to the point where I would make it part of primary school education.

1e.g. Snape working the counter curse in The Sorceror’s Stone.


Since this was a bit more personal than I usually include, here is a list of my favorite characters in Harry Potter, though keep in mind that I am only halfway through The Goblet of Fire and they are in no particular order:
James Potter
George and Fred Weasley
Charlie Weasley
Alastor Mad-Eye Moody
Albus Dumbledore
Sirius Black
Viktor Krum

Democracy, republicanism and war

Are democracies inherently flawed when it comes to running a war? Does a strong executive (to use the modern terminology) make the running of a war more efficient, if not always more successful?

Thucydides would say so, and indeed he lays the blame for Athenian defeat mostly at the hands on the demagogues, who were non-aristocrats who became leaders. Lincoln and Roosevelt would also say so, and both took extraordinary steps to suspend basic liberties in light of wars, intending to relinquish their hold once the crisis passed. Romans would agree, having two consuls run the war efforts, but when times became most critical they nominated a dictator to take over all power for six months and completely direct the war effort. Napoleon would agree, Han Solo would agree, and every president since Vietnam would agree, the list goes on.

The virtue of having a sole, or very small group of leaders does not guarantee success in a war, and in some instances the virtue of having one person in command of the overall strategy could guarantee defeat, but there is not the fickle aspect of democracy and there is a time when one person needs to step to the fore and expedite the process.

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