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Trip Wrap

At this point I think most people have heard individual stories about my trip to Turkey and Greece, or at least are aware that I went. From August 8 to August 22 I was on the road, rail or in the air on my own. I worked a short shift on the 8th and then got a ride to the airport from a friend. From St. Louis I flew to Atlanta, then to Amsterdam where I had a lengthy layover and then a flight to Istanbul that touched down around midnight local time.

My trip actually got off to an interesting start in Atlanta where, on the way to the gate, I walked past Tony Dungy. The trip settled down noticeably thereafter, and since the flight departed from Atlanta at midnight I slept most of the way across.

Landing in Amsterdam, I wandered the airport, saw the tulip bulbs for sale, noted with dismay the small museum collection of Dutch masters (mostly paintings of Cows, but also a picture of William of orange in a dress as a small child), and ate some delicious food at a place called the Dutch Kitchen. They had both mini-savory pancakes and an open faced sandwich with two dutch cheeses, greens and a delicious honey mustard on a soft whole wheat bread. It was by far the best airport I have ever been to, and included a meditation room with religious texts from Christianity, Islam and Judaism and prayer mats, as well as a large number of couches and reclined chairs. After eating I wandered in the airport (I had five hours), finally sitting down not too far from the gate.

Sitting there was first a young woman, and then she was rejoined by the rest of her family. Her name was Lucy, while her mother was Christine and her brother Edward. They were from Leeds and waiting for their flight to Istanbul. Happenstance took this all a bit further, to the point that we were on the same flight, in the same row to Istanbul and were staying in the same hostel, so I hitched a ride in Istanbul to the hostel. They were a lovely family, Lucy starting college in the fall for English Literature, though as with some British accents, when they talked quickly I could not understand what they were saying. Nonetheless, we chatted and generally shared what information we knew about Istanbul, and our guidebooks. I spent a little bit of time with them in the city, mostly at night, but our schedules were different enough that I did not actually spend that much time exploring the city with them.

So we flew to Istanbul and I hitched a taxi ride to the hostel. When I planned (such as I did) this trip, I had planned to spend that first night in the airport and get an early start the next morning with the ride into the city. Since I hitched a ride in, I did not actually have hostel reservations and we got in after midnight. As such, I took off to explore the old city. The hostel was around the corner from the Aya Sofia, so I didn’t have far to look. My first thought was to locate a place to sleep for a bit as I was rather tired, but adrenaline kicked in, so I wound up wandering up to the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofia, the spine of the Hippodrome and up a few streets, though none of these are far apart. After I time I wore down and chose to actually sleep, so I found a spot on a ledge and against the hedge that surrounds part of the Blue Mosque, which, at the time, was beyond the sprinklers, and so, resting on my bag, I slept.

I awoke before 5, in part intending to find breakfast before dawn as it was the first day of Ramadan (I failed in that), and had just finished writing in my journal when I had front row seats for the first call to prayer for the morning. For the rest of the morning I explored the city, including having a man offer me Turkish Delight while running past me at 5:30 (and thanking me when I refused) being in the Blue Mosque courtyard by 6, being among the first inside the Aya Sofia when it opened at 9, and having been adopted by a dog along the spine of the Hippodrome (it followed me down to the park on Topkapi Palace grounds and was with me for around two hours). Around noon I went to check in at the hostel.

I didn’t eat that day until after noon, and likewise did not eat much on the trip–often two meals a day or less, including one day where I had a cinnamon roll and three slices of bread. Early in the trip this was okay, but towards the middle it became problematic, and my worst day was one of dehydration, malnourishment and extreme heat. After that I made sure to eat more.

My remaining time in Istanbul I mostly explored. Turks as a people were very friendly, almost the point of rudeness, however if you tried to escape their conversation, you were the one being rude. Time passed differently in Turkey, in part due to culture, in part due to Ramadan. One of the most interesting customs was the encouragement of a slower lifestyle, one in which there is value to sit and observe what is going on around, rather than being plugged in, whether to a cell phone, computer, ipod, or all of the above. There is problably more that I could say about Turkey and Istanbul, but ultimately I think that the pictures I took speak more. I loved Istanbul, even with the center being excessively touristy. People were friendly, and even in neighborhoods off the beaten path I never felt any ill will of any sort. This included an afternoon spent lost and looking for the sea, where I met a young French couple, also lost. On the last night before leaving for Greece, the young night person at the hostel, who spoke only a little English also taught me Backgammon–I won both games. Now I have half a mind to invest in a board.

The next day I left for Greece, but not before heading out to the Theodosian Walls. The walls were quite impressive, and I even managed to find a way on top of one section.

I took an overnight bus to Thessaloniki, the greatest problem of which was waiting until it left. I detested the Otagar in Istanbul as it seemed to combine the extreme consumerism of the Bazaar district with half-decrepit Eastern European architecture. After a long wait there, we left, and other than being roused in the middle of the night (twice) to pass through the borders, the bus trip was uneventful. I did meet two Irish school teachers, and one American from California who was an English teacher in Istanbul.

Once in Thessaloniki, I got lost. This was a recurring theme of Thessaloniki, as I would be lost at least once every single day I was there, usually for an extended period of time. This was one of the reasons I didn’t do everything I wanted to in Thessaloniki. I liked the town itself, and the hostel there was quite nice. The owner, Dora, was both beloved and terrified of by all, but there was a variety of people staying there and she treated every as though they were her sons and daughters–up to and including feeding us and persuading us to cut up pineapple for a meal. In this hostel I even got mistaken for being Danish due to another Danish man being there and the two of us being engrossed in conversation when other people came back. All in all, I only brushed the surface of Thessaloniki and need to go back. preferably when it is cooler.

Part of my problem was the bus system. The in-city buses did not actually go where they said, which was part of the reason I got horribly lost, but the KTEL station was even worse, being 3 km outside of the city, and not actually being on a road I could locate. This was the cause of my worst day, when I went to Pella. The museum there was fantastic and the sight was pretty special, but it is a podunk town outside of Edessa. I was lost for an hour walking to the bus station initially, and then being low on water, I was unceremoniously dropped off at a four way intersection. The bus driver didn’t speak English, so shouted the stop and gestured frantically off of the bus. I got off and promptly got lost there. After seeing a few sights and wandering around, I then waited at the same intersection for the next bus. Getting back to Thessaloniki, I promptly got lost again, this time for well over an hour. At this point I was dehydrated, hadn’t really eaten anything to speak of and exhausted, so I was glad to grab some food when I got back. None of this was aided by it being a public holiday.

The next day I left by train for Meteora, changing at Palai Pharsalus, now mostly just a train station, but once the site of a famous battle between Pompey and Caesar. There I was briefly introduced to yet another French couple. The train pulled into Meteora a short time later in the town of Kalambaka, which sits under the rock forest. I got in in the late afternoon and wanted to spend one night before moving on, so I promptly set off to visit the other village. In that next village, I randomly ran into the same French couple from the train, who were hiking up to one of the monasteries. Up for the challenge, I hiked up with them, though we arrived shortly after it closed. Nonetheless, we hiked up and down, and then I meandered back to Kalambaka and was just there. The town was lively and energetic, and the atmosphere was perhaps my favorite in Greece.

The next day I set off for Delphi, taking a bus to Lamia (a site that a war was named after), and I was a little disappointed that I could not stay there for a time. I just had a layover there, so I could not actually get into town. I got to a small town on the Corinthian Gulf just in time for the last bus up to Delphi. As at Istanbul, I arrived too late to get a room for the night. Instead I found a quiet spot along the road just outside of town. The next day I discovered that I was sleeping maybe 30 meters from the entrance to the ancient Sanctuary of Apollo. Before morning came, though, I did learn that it gets chilly in the mountains, and a towel works rather well for an impromptu blanket. For future trips I intend to bring a larger towel with that in mind.

Delphi, with the views down the mountain, was incredible, and while I could have spent much more time at the ancient sites, I jumped on it early and was finished before mid-afternoon. Basically I wanted to finish before there were too many tourists. The rest of the day I spent taking in the views and just being in Delphi. It is a fantastic place to spend money, with a large number of craftsfolk and jewelers who use traditional methods for their work. That night I stayed in a hotel and the next morning I took a bus back to Thessaloniki and then an overnight train back to Istanbul. The train was quite an experience, and I spent a large amount of time just watching the landscape and then the stars. Unlike most of the people I overheard that night, this was my return visit. I had already seen a lot of what I wanted to see, so instead of needing to fill every moment, I got to take a more relaxed route. I checked back into the hostel for one more night, and then got to go inside of the Blue Mosque before walking up the heard of the new city, finding a beautiful bookstore, eating dinner, and then returning across the Golden Horn, walking around the peninsula along the water and then back up to the hostel.

It was also this second trip where I discovered Turkish Delight, which was amazingly delicious. The next morning I headed to the airport, then back to Amsterdam.

My second layover in Amsterdam was twelve hours, so I went into the city for dinner. As with the airport, I loved the city. The temperature was great, there were thousands of bikes, people were nice, the food was good, and while I am not a huge Amstel fan, I can learn. I watched a football game there, and almost as soon as I got out of the station, I saw a man walking down the street in bright lederhosen. It was some experience. After the game I wandered for a bit before returning to the airport. I discovered that security was closed (it was after midnight), so I found a quiet hallway to sleep–an example which several other backpackers took up. Before long the quiet hallway was not so quiet, but fortunately security had reopened and I made it through to the areas that there were couches. I didn’t sleep, but at least I was comfortable. The remainder of the trip was largely uneventful, and clearly I made it back.

It was a learning experience for me about myself, and I notably resolved to be less plugged in to the technological matrix we live in. I am glad I went, but wish that I could have spent longer and next time will pack a set of plastic silverware.

I am sure there is more that I could relate, but it is not coming to me right now. Now that I am back in an area where people nominally speak English, it is nice being able to conduct complete conversations, but being overseas it was not too frustrating. Having one person would be nice, and I think two is a good number to go with, but being on your own is an adventure unto itself.

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2010 09 01 admin Eclectica
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In precise terms

I make sandwiches in order to pay my way way through graduate school. Many others I know of tutor or bartend or wait tables. In my case I had previously managed a Quizno’s, so the job itself wears on me for various reasons, but it is not difficult and I am not required to think too hard. One of the reasons that the jobs wears on me is customer interaction. At some level this is frustration built up by noisy, messy customers, screaming children, the near criminal levels of impoliteness exhibited daily. I think that people are mostly harmless, but also egotistical, narcissistic, picky, stressed, rude, impolite, ignorant and much more. Nowhere is this more true than in food service where people come in when hungry and the emphasis is on fast, accurate and, for the most part, anonymous service. This shop is not your small town deli, and I have noted that society somewhere along the line decided that not knowing someone gives you permission to be rude to them. Now people who know each other are quite often rude, too, but one would hope that there was some legitimate cause. In the case of the anonymous, the reason just seems to be that anonymity equals non-existence and people may be rude without repercussion.

Note that I am currently at work and in a misanthropic mood as I write this. In fact most customers fall into a middle range, not particularly polite, but not rude, and there are any number whose manners are impeccable (manners being related to, but not the same thing as table etiquette). There is just a very large percentage of the customer base who may not know what “please” actually means.

But as much as manners and other decencies dropped upon entrance frustrate me, what bothers me the most is the bastardization of the English language. Even more is that the mistakes are the same few, repeated ad nauseam (usually between two or three repetitions and I have reached that level myself). But then the phrases required to order a sandwich are not all that complex. Moreover, when I have mentioned this to people in the past, they have argued that I am witnessing and fighting against the evolution of s living language. This, too, bothers me because it is giving approval to a process whereby the language becomes ever simpler, but intrinsically less coherent.

English itself is already an imprecise language. When I took a course dedicated to translating English to Greek, our first step was to interpret exactly what the English said before determining if our Greek was accurate. Case systems, genders and position rules make other languages much more flexible and at the same time lucid. English does have certain virtues, but I wonder sometimes if the inherently murky and difficult aspects of the language lend it to corruption.

To prevent too much ranting, I shall spend the rest of this post on two issues: precision and adverbs.

Starting with the latter, I would like to see adjectives, adverbs and their different uses taught in schools. It pains me when I ask someone how they are doing, and their response is “I am doing good”. Every single time I am forced to bite back a follow up question asking what exactly they are doing that is good. Furthermore their response has not actually answered my question. The response “I am good” also does not answer the question, but only tells me that person’s perception on what alignment they adhere to. Feeling good is better, but suggests that they may generally tend more towards neutrality or evil on the grand cosmic scale.

Then there is precision. This is an aspect that I have thrust upon me fairly often on account of writing, with mismatched pronouns, but applies more generally, too. Issues such as the difference between “Can I have?” and “May I have?” and “I need”. At work I can’t actually say many of these things because the objective is to keep these people coming into the restaurant, but the basic fact remains that the accuracy of the statement “I need” can be directly called into question. Even the phrase “Give me…”, which I find a rude imperative, actually carries with it a request, in direct contrast to “I need”, which is just a statement. Beyond the doors of Quizno’s the same issues remain with greater consequences. One example of this is the replacement of the word “minimum” with “minimal”, which drastically alters what the statement says (in regard to standardized testing and standards being met).

In regards to these complaints, I am sometimes called an elitist and/or a snob. While both of these descriptors fit me well from time to time, this is not one of those instances. Hoping for accuracy and that people will mean what they say is not the mark of being a snob. Using big words properly and knowing multiple dead languages is snobbish, but the terribly novel idea that people actually use their native language correctly, rather than watering it down and simplifying it beyond recognition is not.

Now if only the school systems would agree with me.

Addendum: For what it is worth, I think part of the problem is the number of subjects which regard teaching writing and speaking as none of their concern. Personally I think it is part of the duties of English (though teaching something beyond Strunk and White would probably be good), but beyond bare minimums, other fields, including history, need to take some responsibility.

2010 09 01 admin Eclectica
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Right Energized

On August 3rd, former House Speaker Newt Gingrich spoke before a number of conservative students at John Hopkins University. The overarching intent was to foster grass-roots campaigns in order to win the midterm elections for the Republican Party, building momentum for the 2012 election. It was clear that Gingrich fervently believed what he was saying and it was refreshing to see so many 18-25 year olds dedicated to a political cause. The problem is in what was being said.

I will not take the time to counter every point that was made, or every question raised, but I am worried about this. I am worried that it is the right that is most energized this year and worried about the misleading and blind rhetoric used to arouse this support.

The Gingrich speech comes on the heels of the Texas textbook law and the spreading popularity of the Tea Party and groups that support the defense of “Western Civilization” (also a statement that came up during the speech). Closest to my heart is that one of the common denominators here is that they are all based on a limited, twisted or mistaken perception of history. Of course there is the movement to recast Thomas Jefferson as of limited importance to the creation of the United States, as well as the declaration that Western Civilization is a unique corpus challenged and destroyed by multiculturalism and integration. As an aside, at least one of the groups claims that a classical education is also a threat to Western Civilization, despite it being one of the foundations of that civilization, both temporally and in that it has for centuries formed the the core of education in Europe and America.

Universally among my colleagues at the University of Missouri, the Texas textbook reform was met with resignation as much as with outrage. It is a rather basic, if sometimes overlooked fact that all history taught in schools is constructed to portray a message, whether that is what is about the unity of the country, states rights or the value of democracy. This construction doesn’t mean that it is untrue, merely that there is an inherent bias in what is useful and what is appropriate for young people. Then, at the college level, half of what happens is that educators have to first correct mistaken impressions from high school, as well as actually educating students. The Texas reform marks just the latest high school folly to correct, hence the resignation.

Getting back to Gingrich, my first reaction is the complete mangling of ideas and labels. His basic point is that America leans to the Right, but that the Left fights from the high ground, embedded as the Left is in tenured professor positions, media, presidency, House and Senate leadership, and so on (his opinion, not mine). As such, he claims that the mass of regular Americans need to start a revolution to overthrow the elite. This should sound familiar given the history of the last 150 years and the successes and failures of socialist and communist revolutions. And then Gingrich (among others) march on to call Obama a socialist. To call liberals elitist and socialist. In this particular instance, Gingrich called Obama a secular socialist.

This is my second concern, on which the latest incident is the debate raging over the mosque alongside ground zero. I understand that a majority of Americans are Christian, and I strongly support the right of all Americans to worship freely as they see fit. My issue is the suggestion that the United States was founded as a Christian country and it is this Christian foundation that guarantees civil liberties, including freedom of religion.

Christianity ensures freedom of religion.

Leaving alone that Christianity is a religious umbrella that comprises hundreds of different, sometimes mutually unrecognizable groups, the idea that it is a religious tenet to encourage other religions to worship as they see fit is unfathomable to me. This is not to say that individual Christians or Christian groups do not now recognize this right in other groups and other religions. The issue is twofold: 1) Their religion is right (as many claim) and therefore other religions should not be recognized; 2) If their religion is not the only one that is right or doesn’t have the whole Truth or the sole right to exist, how is it that their religion is the one that is so graciously granting the right to existence to those others?

Then there is the argument that one of the problems with Obama is that he is secular. Gingrich bluntly declared that secularism–rejection of Christian belief–is one of the underlying causes of dictatorships. Because no Christian nation has every oppressed its citizens or started wars, and there has never been a Christian dictatorship. As far as I am concerned God-given rights may as well be the same as natural rights. In either circumstance the rights are granted by the creator, in whatsoever guise that Creator is viewed. The rights are not ensured because we are a nation composed mostly of Christians founded on Christian ideals, but we are a nation of religious freedom because we are a nation that came together from multiple denominations.

This brings me back to the proposed mosque in Manhattan. I understand the argument Gingrich raised about Muslim countries (Saudi Arabia) not permitting synagogues and churches, but that is not a valid reason to limit religious freedoms here. This is exactly the argument Tom Friedman makes in his August 3 column. His argument is the same as mine: this is a display of openness and inclusion that is all but unprecedented. It is also a symbol of recognition that it was not “Muslims” who attacked the United States, but particular extremists. Yet people come out and basically claim that a mosque is sacrilege because Muslims or Arabs attacked the United States and while we support religious freedom, we do so everywhere except that piece of real estate. On top of it all there is increasing rhetoric about Sharia Law being instituted, supposedly as an insidious scheme to supplant the Constitution.

I have no issue with what people do. I have no problem with what people believe. So long as those two do not infringe on my person. I also find a lot to be admired in the conservative platform–small government, safety, lower taxes (although if there will be lower taxes, the savings should be equitably balanced), states rights and individual freedoms. I just cannot stand hypocrisy, including, but not limited to the dual standard between Bush and Obama, and individual freedoms everywhere except Patriot Act, marriage law, and abortions. I admire people who stand by their convictions, except where those convictions made without enough information. My greatest fear and what I find most depressing in America today is the thorough, unapologetic ignorance that exists. In a sense I believe in some sort of American exceptionalism, but in our constitution and because, historically, American creativity, ingenuity and ambition has achieved great things, not because being American is inherently exceptional.

Education and information are the keys to all of this. The problem is that if people are unreceptive or uninterested, education and information are limited.

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2010 08 05 admin Education
History
News
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Midnight Musings: The Death of Alexander

One of the great, unsolved mysteries of history is the death of Alexander. The cause of death has troubled historians, writers and students for millennia, including several books in the past few years and a new article on whether or not bacteria from the River Styx could have killed him. Solving this mystery will be a great accomplishment and further our historical understanding in ways not yet dreamed of. Or so they say.

The truth is that I don’t care about the death of Alexander. I don’t care if he died from alcohol poisoning, wounds, malaria, typhoid or was poisoned, though I will point out that silence in the ancient sources about deaths from an epidemic really doesn’t mean that it didn’t occur, just that it wasn’t written down. If Alexander was poisoned, I don’t care who did it or how.

In fact there are exactly three episodes that I do care about from the week or so he was dying. 1) I care who he supposedly granted succession to. 2) I care what the aristocrats were doing on the day and night of his death. 3) I care that he died.

This is an instance where perceptions (ancient perceptions, both contemporary and later) matter more than what actually did happen. So, once again, I don’t really care what did happen.

A second issue here is that Alexander did die. Every attempt to solve the whodunit is an exercise in rhetoric and argumentation from the flimsiest of evidence. Looking at the actions Alexander did while alive, the impact of those actions and the ripples from his death. For the overall historical narrative these are what matter, these are what will enable a more detailed understanding of the historical period.

And so, one final time, I don’t care how Alexander died.

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2010 08 04 admin Greece
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The Costs of War

This week ran an interesting article on the cost of the Iraq and Afghan Wars. To my mind, the most important observation made in the article is that the wars have been notable removed from the American population, with a small percentage of the population actually involved and a small part of the American GDP spent. Unlike World War 2, where over a third of the GDP went to the war and far more soldiers were committed. Vietnam had a comparable financial cost, but a draft brought the war home to a far greater degree.

It is an interesting note, especially in regard to how often America is at war and the danger that ‘limited’ wars could become more common as the costs are not directly related to the American people. As one historian cited in the article noted: “the army is at war, but the country is not.”

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2010 07 31 admin News
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Trafalgar

Perhaps the most notable naval battle in history is that of Trafalgar, where the most famous naval officer, Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, reaffirmed the British predominance on the high seas. The queen of the oceans would hold this position for another two hundred years.

Surprising as it may seem, both Copenhagen and Aboukir were more revolutionary in tactics than Trafalgar, but Trafalgar was the nail that sealed the coffin. At Aboukir and Copenhagen Nelson pioneered a maneuver where he sailed between the land and the enemy fleet while it lay at anchor, demolishing their line of battle without much opposition (at Copenhagen he did it despite the shore fortifications protecting the enemy fleet), but at Trafalgar, the French and Spanish were ready for the tactic, they had better ships and a larger fleet, yet Nelson’s superior training, sailing and gunnery won the day.

In part it was the mystique of the British navy and that few of the French captains were comfortable facing Nelson. Another aspect to the victory was that, unlike Napoleon’s admirals, Nelson simply set his course and doggedly pursued it. The short form of the battle is that Nelson approached the Combined Fleet in two columns, which he planned to intersect at two points, sail behind and smash the way he had at Aboukir. This was expected by his opponents, but he sailed up to and through the line without firing while the Combined Fleet wasted its shot. The first broadside tore apart the Combined Fleet and then the battle devolved into close range gunnery duels which favored the British.

Likewise, it is probably a good thing for the British that Trafalgar was so decisive, since Nelson died in it and while there were other capable officers in the fleet, there was not necessarily another Nelson.

One of the recurring themes in the history of warfare is that sometimes simply acting–setting a course and sticking to it–is what is best. Of course prudence requires you to know when to cut your losses.

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2010 07 30 admin History Comments (0) Permalink

Great man or Individualistic History

“Let him who cuts individuals out of history but pay close attention and he will perceive that either he has not cut them out at all, as he imagined, or he has cut out with them history itself.” ~Bernadetto Croce (On History 107)

One of the problems with history is that it is fundamentally a study of people, yet historians often try to extricate persons from history. “People”, that amorphous concept which encompasses us all and strata (classes) of society are acceptable, but the person is not. Gone are the days where the history of the world could be defined as the lives of all the great men. No, for it to be politically correct a history of the world needs to be a history of every single person ever to live upon it, and since that is far too impractical we will speak in term of “peoples” and “strata.”

Sterilized history is the result. Sure, the details can get nitty and gritty, especially when examples are made, but to just speak in these terms is sterilized, a-historical history. Instead of an art and an exercise in thought, it is an attempt to make history a science, justifiable in its own right and explanatory. And I find it much duller. Sure, this sterilization can provide trends, themes, explanations and valuable insights into what is going on, but even when this is done, it is through human examples and specific instances that demonstrate the scientific analyses.

What is my point? I am not sure I have one. Just that if the individual examples are going to be used anyway and at a fundamental level history is about humans, why is there a need to invalidate histories of the individual? If well done, the history of the individual will need to account for these other schools too.

History should not have to be valuable in its own right. For as long as there is a government there will be at least some impetus for history, no matter how biased. If that is not a good enough reason, the past has value and the academic historian needs to teach forthcoming generations to think, to write and to have open debate. Despite movements to the contrary,the world still needs the liberal arts; science alone is insufficient.

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2010 07 29 admin Education
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Reading

I finally read Harry Potter. I own the books and sort of see what all the fuss is about. And I have reread them. I still don’t like Harry Potter (the character), but I did enjoy the books. This is old news, but for those who know my history of staunchly refusing to read them for the better part of ten years, it may come as a shock. The motivation for reading the books was prompted by a Greek assignment to read the first book. In Greek. Trying to figure out what is going on and who this Dursley character was just by reading a Greek version proved a challenge, so I broke. I read them all and enjoyed them. I have since re-read them and will probably do so about once a year from here out–I also do the same with The Wheel of Time, Song of Ice and Fire and Lord of the Rings. But I still haven’t seen the movies of Harry Potter, and have little interest in doing so. These days I am still taking ignorant stances about books, but now it is Twilight and similar books. If one of my professors decides to make me read Twilight in Greek I am dropping that class and may have to consider a new line of work.

As much as I protest against this genre of ‘porny vampire books’ and am thoroughly turned away by a variety of contemporary literature, this is a personal issue. On a broader level I want people to read. I want them to read a lot and often. Not everyone will read A Tale of Two Cities in fourth grade and come away with an implacable hatred of Dickens, but it worries me when I meet people who don’t read books. The more intelligent the person, the less of an excuse I feel they have, but it bothers me the same. Given the choice between death and reading Twilight I would have to stop and think, but that is because I see them (and most modern ‘literature’) as bad books. This doesn’t make the people who read them bad; on the contrary, the very fact that they are reading is an encouraging sign. I hope they grow out of Twilight, or at least read other books, too, but any book that gets people (old, young, middle-aged, young at heart, and everything in between) to read has some sort of value. I have certainly read more than my fair share of bad books, I just (usually) don’t keep going back to them.

This is markedly similar to my stance on kindle and other e-readers. I like books. I like the smell of books, the feel of the paper. Some of my most used books have been dropped from trees, duct-taped back together, re-covered (one of those covers has comments from Yoda (Good book, it is) and Osama bin Laden (Blow up America!), written just before 9/11) and drink stained. With one or two exceptions, I don’t write in my books but rather enjoy books that others have written in, the more profound or more mundane the comments, the better. The only way I like to mark my books is through use and through love, otherwise I want them to remain in the condition which I found/purchased/received them. In fact I love books too much to ever switch to an e-reader, but e-readers have value if they get other people to read. Just don’t take my books out of print.

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2010 07 28 admin Eclectica
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Who can critique

One of the required courses in nearly every graduate history department is Historiography, in one form or another. At Missouri, this takes the form of a co-taught course, one Americanist, one Europeanist, who select a book a week and then discuss the ideas, theories and methods of those works. Some of these actually cover topics of historiography (though rarely theory), while others simply are topical and from a wide range of subjects, styles and methods.

My own thoughts on the discussion, purpose and failings of the course aside, the intent is to make us think about what we are doing, and to expose us to a wide range of styles and methods. The department is distinctly anti-theory for reasons I will not broach here, and so the thrust of the course is this: “The better your method is–including languages–the more viable your research will be.” Bits and pieces actually address method and some (though not enough) of the class discussion is directed to this end, but realistically this assessment is self-evident or should be.

One of the issues that arose this past semester was over who can and should criticize scholarship. The book in question was well researched and conducted through a study of numerous languages and documents. The method and the research was generally sound, but I, at least, had some problems with the application at various points. Nonetheless, the class was repeatedly told that we were not qualified to critique the method. None of us were familiar with the other research in the field (which was characterized as a political agenda covering for shoddy scholarship), or the languages to properly critique the book. If someone without the proper credentials attempted to challenge the method and findings, they would have no basis for doing so.

Though I agree that method is important and that proper language use is essential to history, this argument that one must be credentialed to critique a work is nonsense. Someone with more credentials will bear more weight, but anyone is qualified to critique any book, and in fact they should. To not do so is the opposite end of the spectrum from accepting something because of a political agenda and as bad. Nothing should be taken for granted. This is true in history, as in any field. I am perfectly qualified to critique theater or cinema, even though I don’t necessarily have the ‘proper’ vocabulary. Some people will find my review helpful and accurate, while others will staunchly disagree. In some instances I will find myself corrected by so-called experts, while in others I will assert my right to hold an opinion. The point is that I can still do it; feel free to disagree.

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2010 07 27 admin Education Comments (0) Permalink

Thermopylae

How often does a military defeat set a standard for excellence? How often does a defeat create an aura of invincibility? Even a defeat like The Alamo just became a rallying cry, and the Roman republican defeats showed both their weaknesses and their resiliency, not their invincibility.

The only defeat with this result was the Battle of Thermopylae where 300 brave Spartans (and several thousand other Greeks) held off the main Persian army for days while the Greek force collected and came out for the main battle, or while Athens evacuated. What a marvelously successful propaganda effort this was. The Spartan force was slaughtered, but for two men, and other losses were heavy. High command was splintered and thus no expeditionary force was forthcoming. Likewise, if the Greeks had truly meant to hold the pass as a delaying action, why was this force sent instead of the massive force sent to Tempe the year before?

An answer may be that this was a rogue action taken by Leonidas in order to drag the Greeks out of complacency and force an engagement. If a Spartan king and hundreds of his peers met with Persia, surely the main Greek army would come out and fight with them, but of course that did not happen–and yes, the army had been basically assembled, albeit without most Athenian aid since they were manning ships at the time. Sparta lost 298 full citizens, including a king (for comparison, Sparta went to the negotiating table for peace in the Peloponnesian War when just over a hundred Spartans were captured), and with a successful propoganda campaign this catastrophe became a heroic sacrifice for the liberty of Greece. Spartans at the forefront of the campaign, suffering losses, but fighting like madmen and never surrendering, never retreating and only losing when impossibly outnumbered. Furthermore the number 300 stands out because this same propoganda campaign that pushed the Spartans as the saviors of Greece likewise de-emphasized any other states involved. The very fact that it was just 300 redoubled the heroism of this ‘sacrifice’.

Granted, the images of Thermopylae, from Frank Miller’s 300 to Stephen Pressfield’s The Gates of Fire to Herodotus to Plutarch’s Sayings of Kings and Commanders, are visually stunning. When the Persian emissary asks Leonidas for his weapons, the answer is blunt: molon labe . Warned that the Persian archers would cloak the sun with their arrows, Leonidas or another veteran Spartan responded that this is good, they will have their battle in the shade. The original thin red line holding back an onslaught (with other Greeks by their side), and when the Persians found an alternate path, most of the army was sent home while the Spartans and a few others held a hilltop until they were all killed. But looking beyond these images, the battle was a waste. It was a fleeting pause in the Persian advance and nothing more. No decisive land battle happened that year and the deaths were wasted.

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2010 07 26 admin Greece
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