Well now, this is a more innovative adaptation than I thought it would be. As I said, research is fun!
afterwards
This lovely post by my friend Wesley Hill on carrying and using a Bible reminds me of a question I ask myself on a regular basis: What is Christianity when it is no longer a religion of the book? Because I think Christianity around the world, for varying reasons, is becoming and in some places has already fully become a post-book practice. I don’t think we Christians have reckoned as seriously as we ought to with that change — and especially how those of us who remain People of the Book are best to relate to and connect with those whose Christian faith doesn’t employ books.
Elon's plan
Musk owns Tesla Energy. And I think he's going to turn a profit on Starship by using it to launch Space based solar power satellites. By my back of the envelope calculation, a Starship can put roughly 5-10MW of space-rate photovoltaic cells into orbit in one shot. ROSA—Roll Out Solar Arrays now installed on the ISS are ridiculously light by historic standards, and flexible: they can be rolled up for launch, then unrolled on orbit. Current ROSA panels have a mass of 325kg and three pairs provide 120kW of power to the ISS: 2 tonnes for 120KW suggests that a 100 tonne Starship payload could produce 6MW using current generation panels, and I suspect a lot of that weight is structural overhead. The PV material used in ROSA reportedly weighs a mere 50 grams per square metre, comparable to lightweight laser printer paper, so a payload of pure PV material could have an area of up to 20 million square metres. At 100 watts of usable sunlight per square metre at Earth's orbit, that translates to 2GW. So Starship is definitely getting into the payload ball-park we'd need to make orbital SBSP stations practical. 1970s proposals foundered on the costs of the Space Shuttle, which was billed as offering $300/lb launch costs (a sad and pathetic joke), but Musk is selling Starship as a $2M/launch system, which works out at $20/kg.
So: disruptive launch system meets disruptive power technology, and if Tesla Energy isn't currently brainstorming how to build lightweight space-rated PV sheeting in gigawatt-up quantities I'll eat my hat.
just for the record
Matt Taibbi has posted a newsletter edition in which he complains about what he calls a “just-released On the Media episode” about free speech — but I think the episode, which you can find here, merely re-posts an episode from two years ago. (Probably? I don’t have time to do a comparative listening.) I only want to make a brief comment, in two points.
One: Marantz thinks that Richard Rorty, whom he admires, was an “analytical philosopher” until the 1990s, but Rorty made his definitive break with analytic philosophy in his 1979 book Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature. Marantz’s fuzzy sense of the shape of Rorty’s career is matched by his cringe-makingly fuzzy sense of what Rorty meant by “contingency” and what he was arguing in his late and explicitly political work. If you want to get a sense of what Rorty actually thought, from someone whose politics are probably pretty close to Marantz’s, read this 2012 essay by Charles Marsh. (Charles and I were grad students at UVA together, he in Religion and me in English, when Rorty joined the faculty. I got to know Rorty a little bit; Charles knew him much better.) Rorty is definitely an important, though not an infallible, thinker for our moment, and it’s worth approaching him via a reliable guide. Of course, best of all would be to read him directly! — but please don’t focus only on the decontextualized passages that went viral when Trump was elected.
Two: — and this is a more important point, for me anyway — Marantz has no idea what Mill argued in On Liberty. For instance, Marantz says, “In his book, On Liberty, John Stuart Mill argues for one simple principle — the harm principle. It amounts to this: the state, my neighbors and everyone else should let me get on with my life as long as I don’t harm anyone in the process. One way of thinking of this is my freedom to swing my fist, ends at the tip of your nose. Mill favors free speech too, up to the point where it inflames violence. But merely causing offence, he thinks, is no grounds for intervention. Because in his view, that is not a harm.” Nope. Nopenopenope.
Throughout On Liberty, Mill has very little — almost nothing — to say about physical harm. He is much more interested in (real or potential) moral harm. Being a serious thinker, he makes a series of distinctions. For instance, he distinguishes between the kinds of actions that deserve legal punishment from those that deserve social opprobrium. You would never know it from Marantz, but Mill thinks there are circumstances in which a person who hasn’t violated any laws should still suffer “moral reprobation” and even a kind of social punishment:
What I contend for is, that the inconveniences which are strictly inseparable from the unfavourable judgment of others, are the only ones to which a person should ever be subjected for that portion of his conduct and character which concerns his own good, but which does not affect the interests of others in their relations with him. Acts injurious to others require a totally different treatment. Encroachment on their rights; infliction on them of any loss or damage not justified by his own rights; falsehood or duplicity in dealing with them; unfair or ungenerous use of advantages over them; even selfish abstinence from defending them against injury — these are fit objects of moral reprobation, and, in grave cases, of moral retribution and punishment.
And notice another thing about that passage: when speaking of “acts injurious to others” Mill is not thinking of fists striking noses but rather of “falsehood or duplicity” and even “selfish abstinence from defending them against injury”!
Furthermore, Mill advocates for legal limits on speech itself in terms that even the more censorious among us might approve: “An opinion that corn-dealers are starvers of the poor, or that private property is robbery, ought to be unmolested when simply circulated through the press, but may justly incur punishment when delivered orally to an excited mob assembled before the house of a corn-dealer, or when handed about among the same mob in the form of a placard.” (This is Mill’s version of the doctrine of “fighting words.”)
Mill is a much more sophisticated and nuanced figure that either his celebrants or enemies think. I wish people would stop using him as cudgels in their culture wars and read him with care.
on me
Wyatt Mason on Jon Fosse's Septology:
The practice of prayer, the practice of painting, the products of prose: all buoy us as we live and as those we love die — as those whom Asle has loved will. Like all members of our species have before him, Asle leaves his own inscrutable lines on the world, “the innermost picture inside me,” he says, “that all the pictures I’ve tried to paint are attempting to look like, this innermost picture, that’s a kind of soul and a kind of body in one, yes, that’s my spirit, what I call spirit.” And with Asle, in this remarkable novel, we pray:
and I hold the brown wooden cross between my thumb and my finger and then I say, again and again, inside myself, as I breathe in deeply Lord and as I breathe out slowly Jesus and as I breathe in deeply Christ and as I breathe out slowly Have mercy and as I breathe in deeply On me.
I’m gonna have to read this absolutely enormous one-sentenced book, dammit.
Across the Borderline
- Freddy Fender - vocal
- Ry Cooder - guitar
- Sam Samudio - organ, backing vocals
- John Hiatt- guitar
- Jim Dickinson - piano
- Tim Drummond - bass
- Jim Keltner - drums
- Ras Baboo - percussion
- Bobby King, Willie Greene Jr. - backing vocals
For years, when I listened to this song I thought I was hearing the great Flaco Jiménez on accordion, because he has often played with Ry Cooder over the years — listen, for instance, to his amazing playing on Cooder’s cover of the old Jim Reeves classic “He’ll Have to Go” — but apparently that’s Sam Samudio imitating an accordion on the organ. Sam Samudio was born Domingo Samudio, but is better known as Sam the Sham, leader of Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, the people who brought us “Wooly Bully.”
But the really interesting figure here is Jim Dickinson, the heart and soul of Memphis music — and the father of Luther and Cody Dickinson, AKA the North Mississippi Allstars. (Also a one-time drama major at Baylor, though he dropped out to return to Memphis.) There are a thousand Jim Dickinson stories but here’s one:
Dickinson was working at the Muscle Shoals Sound Studio when The Rolling Stones were recording there. When they got to “Wild Horses” they ran into a problem. Their road manager and occasional pianist Ian Stewart refused to play the song’s piano part. This was not unusual for Stewart, who had very defined ideas of what he would and would not play, though he didn’t always explain his reasoning to others. In any case, he refused, and Dickinson stepped in — and a career was born. He was always in demand after that.
Years later, Dickinson got to spend some time with Stewart and asked him why he refused to play that song. Stu said, “Minor chords — I don’t play minor chords. When I play with the lads onstage and a minor chord comes by, I lift me hands.” So there you go.
Dickinson’s popularity as a session musician was a function not of technique — he didn’t have much — but of feel. He knew just how and when to add a lick and, maybe more important, when to be silent. You can hear his perfectly tasteful restraint on both “Wild Horses” and “Across the Borderline.”
In a wonderful late interview, he explained how, after he was well established, he met an old Memphis musician called Dish Rag who revealed to him what he had been doing all along. Dish Rag told him that everything in music is about codes. Dickinson was a bit puzzled until he realized that Dish Rag meant “chords.”
He said, ‘This is how you makes a code.” He said you take any note then you go up three and four down. He was talking about keys, not half-steps or whole steps. He was talking about the keys on the keyboard. It was a physical thing I could see. Of course, it works anywhere on the piano. Your thumb ends up on the tonic note and what it makes is a triad. Dish Rag had no idea that’s what it was, but it was a code to him. So, with a triad chord in my right hand and an octave in my left, y’know, I kind of taught myself to play. That’s what I still do … listen to what I’m playing on “Wild Horses” — I’m playing a major triad or a minor with my left hand and an octave with my right … that’s all I play. It’s so simple it works in the studio. It creates space and tension and all the things you want a keyboard to do and it doesn’t get in the way of the damn guitar because rock and roll is about guitars. So, thank god I’ve had a career because I play simple and stupid. It really boils down to the simplicity of what I do. I had a friend ask about the Stones session once, he says “Tell me the truth man, you were holding back weren’t you?” I said, “Dude I was going for it with everything I had [laughs]. It’s just all I got.”
and so it begins
This feels like a big one, and is certainly a harbinger of things to come. We’ve had major rock stars die young, from accidents (Buddy Holly, Stevie Ray Vaughan) or drug abuse (too many to list); and we’ve had them last into middle age only to succumb to bad habits (Elvis) and more accidents and even murder (John Lennon, Marvin Gaye). But now they’re starting to go from … well, from the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. From little more than old age.
Of course, Chuck Berry died four years ago, Little Richard last year — and Johnny Cash nearly twenty years ago, believe it or not. But — and I don’t think I’m making a false distinction here — they were artists who made their names before the emergence of Youth Culture. Indeed, by the time the Stones and the Beatles and Dylan and The Who came around, their stars were on the wane. Chuck Berry and Little Richard are associated with the “rock and roll” of the Fifties, not the ROCK of the Sixties and Seventies — the music that defined almost everything in its time, the sun around which the rest of culture revolved. The sun that seemed permanent, that couldn’t possibly burn out.
But Paul is 79, Ringo 81, Dylan 80. Eric Clapton is 76, Jimmy Page 77. Mick is 78, Keith 77. Pete Townshend 76, Roger Daltrey 77. In the next decade we are likely to lose almost all of those people, and an Era will have passed. It’s strange, for me anyway, to contemplate.
So rest in peace, Charlie. You were one of the great ones. Others will be joining you soon enough.
If we do not now have evidence that Mikel Arteta is incapable of managing this side, then what would constitute evidence? One shudders to imagine.
Me to my wife: Hey babe, I have good news and bad news.
Teri: Give me the good news first.
Me: The senior vice president of communications for the National Religious Broadcasters went on TV to encourage Christians to get vaccinated!
Her: Fantastic! But what's the bad news?
Me: Well...
As I write, all of the ICU beds in McLennan County, where I live, are occupied. The vast majority have covid. Of those who have covid, 93% are unvaccinated. The beat goes on. And on. And on.
hubris
A conservative doctor recently told me that after January 6th he “unplugged.” He stopped watching cable news. He stopped listening to talk radio. And lest he be tempted to engage in political arguments online, he deleted social media apps from his phone. He described the change as wholly positive for his life. He was happier, and his blood pressure was lower.I hear what David and Russell are saying here, but I think there is an important unacknowledged assumption in their comments: that these emotionally and spiritually healthy people would bring their health to social media — that they would somehow change Twitter, say, without themselves being changed in the process. But as I said a few years ago, “I left Twitter because I watched people who spent a lot of time on Twitter get stupider and stupider, and it finally occurred to me that I was probably getting stupider too. And after some reflection I decided that I couldn’t afford to get any stupider.” And I could have noted not just Twitter users’ increase in stupidity over time but also their corresponding decrease in charity.I had two immediate thoughts. Good for him. Bad for us. Here’s a good man who has good things to say who simply decided, “It’s not worth it.” No, not because anyone could cancel him. (He has a thriving independent practice). But because speaking his mind carried with it an unacceptable emotional cost.
As my friend Russell Moore put it in a recent newsletter, “What then ends up happening is a kind of self-cancel culture as the emotionally and spiritually healthiest people mute themselves in order to go about their lives and not deal with the pressure from those for whom these arguments are their lives.”
I think when we decide whether or not to invest time on a social media platform, we need to ask Michael Sacasas’s questions about technology, some of which are:
When we use technologies, those technologies change us, for the better or worse — or, sometimes, both at once. And often they change us because the people who make them want us to be a particular kind of person — the kind of person they can monetize. The kind of person on whom they can be parasitic, for their own financial benefit. Once more with feeling: social media companies need engagement, and hatred creates engagement like nothing else, so the regular Two Minutes Hate on Twitter and the incessant “hate raids” on Twitch are, for those companies, features rather than bugs. I’m sure that if they saw an easy way to get engagement solely from peace, love, and understanding, they’d intervene, but if hate gets engagement, and we can sell ads against engagement? — Then bring on the hate!
- What sort of person will the use of this technology make of me?
- What habits will the use of this technology instill?
- How will the use of this technology affect my experience of time?
- How will the use of this technology affect my experience of place?
- How will the use of this technology affect how I relate to other people?
- How will the use of this technology affect how I relate to the world around me?
- What practices will the use of this technology cultivate?
- What practices will the use of this technology displace?
- What will the use of this technology encourage me to notice?
- What will the use of this technology encourage me to ignore?
You think you can resist those technological affordances, simply decline to become the kind of person the social media companies want you to be? Maybe you can. But the Greeks called that kind of confidence hubris, and understood that what follows hubris is Nemesis.
We have countless ways to communicate with one another that do not involve the big social media companies. Let’s use them!
Or 0.07% of those vaccinated.
This is so depressing, bc it reflects that we can’t cover any sort of public health numbers responsibly. It’s not just crime that gets fearmongered. It’s everything. Which means it’s an even more intractable problem.
— John Pfaff (@JohnFPfaff)
Now I’m wondering how many people read this and think, Yeah, but seven percent is a lot! In short, we still need the School for Scale. Also instruction in decimal points.
The issue of Oliver Burkeman’s newsletter The Imperfectionist reminded me of something he wrote several years ago that it’s always useful to remember: Everyone is totally just winging it, all the time.
too lazy for long marches
The phrase “long march through the institutions” is often attributed to Antonio Gramsci, but in fact it was coined in the 1960s, by a German Communist named Rudi Dutschke. But the misattribution is understandable, because it’s a very Gramscian point.
When Gramsci coined the term hegemony, he did not mean mere “domination,” which is how the term is often used today. When poorly informed people talk about “American hegemony” they mean American military power; when more knowledgeable people use that phrase, they mean it in a Gramscian sense: A military/political power that is immeasurably strengthened by cultural dominance. Hegemony arises from the control of forces far greater than those of the state. “In the West,” wrote Gramsci, “there was a proper relation between state and civil society, and when the state trembled a sturdy structure of civil society was at once revealed. The state was only an outer ditch, behind which there stood a powerful system of fortresses and earthworks.”
Gramsci’s purpose in thus describing the situation was to explain that a frontal military attack on the existing order by revolutionary forces was unlikely to succeed because of the strength of the structures of civil society. A direct attack, a “war of movement,” could only be successful if it were preceded by a patient remaking of civil society, a “war of position.” Thus the need for what Dutschke called a “long march through the institutions.”
You sometimes hear Dutschke’s phrase from conservative commentators frustrated by the success of the left in making just such a march through American civil society, through the media and the arts and the universities. They are correct that this has happened, but they rarely draw the appropriate conclusions from it. Instead of imitating the patience and persistence of the leftist marchers, they long for a strongman, a Trump or an Orban, to relieve them of the responsibility for reshaping civil society. If reshaping those institutions seems hard, then why not dream of someone powerful enough to blow them up and start over? Dreams of an omnicompetent strongman are the natural refuge of people too lazy and feckless to begin, much less complete, a long march.
Proud, brave, honorable by its lights, courteous, personally generous, loyal, swift to act, often too swift, but signally effective, sometimes terrible, in its action — such was the South at its best. And such at its best it remains today, despite the great falling away in some of its virtues. Violence, intolerance, aversion and suspicion toward new ideas, an incapacity for analysis, an inclination to act from feeling rather than from thought, an exaggerated individualism and too narrow concept of social responsibility, attachment to fictions and false values, above all too great attachment to racial values and a tendency to justify cruelty and injustice in the name of those values, sentimentality and a lack of realism — these have been its characteristic vices in the past. And, despite changes for the better, they remain its characteristic vices today.
— W. J. Cash, The Mind of the South (1941)