What I’m reading tonight: “He is wise who knows himself; and so is that nation which understands its own history, and understanding, profits by it.”

In addi­tion to work­ing on my home­work and writ­ing a cou­ple of NSF grant pro­pos­als on short notice, mind you.

From “Reli­gious Char­la­tanry”, in The Knicker­bocker New-​​York Monthly Mag­a­zine, Vol­ume X, Num­ber 1, 1837. I am inevitably struck, when I proof­read my scans of this 150-​​year-​​old mag­a­zine, how mod­ern the voices are, and how won­der­fully clear the thinking.

But then again, I tend to write this way myself. Would that I could write more like this, than I already do.…

As ever, if you have enjoyed this extract in any way, please go and visit the Dis­trib­uted Proof­read­ers project, sign up for a free vol­un­teer account, take a few min­utes to famil­iar­ize your­self with the sim­ple web inter­face, and proof­read four or five pages of your choice. It’s fun, sim­ple, quick, and a good way to help the world remem­ber itself.

RELIGIOUS CHARLATANRY

NUMBER ONE.

Every age and every com­mu­nity have their pecu­liar moral and reli­gious symp­toms, under the action of the Chris­t­ian sys­tem. So also every sep­a­rate form of Chris­tian­ity hath its own char­ac­ter­is­tic fea­tures. Doth not the Roman Catholic reli­gion dif­fer from the Protes­tant? Doth not Protes­tant reli­gion in Ger­many dif­fer from that which passes under the same name in Great Britain? Pres­by­te­ri­an­ism in Scot­land from Epis­co­pacy in Eng­land? Eng­lish Epis­co­pacy from Dis­sent? Chris­tian­ity in Great Britain from Chris­tian­ity in Amer­ica? Con­gre­ga­tion­al­ism in New-​​England from the Pres­by­te­ri­an­ism of the mid­dle and south­ern states? The two lat­ter from Wes­leyanism? The Bap­tists from all three? Uni­tar­i­an­ism from the four? And Amer­i­can Epis­co­palian­ism from each of this tribe? We might descend to other spec­i­fi­ca­tions, were it need­ful. It is enough for our pur­pose, that they are suggested.

It is inter­est­ing as well as pleas­ant to sup­pose, that the actual exper­i­ment of the dif­fer­ent and suc­ces­sive modes, or devel­op­ments, of the divine econ­omy of redemp­tion, as they tran­spire in human soci­ety, oper­ates as a sift­ing of their qual­i­ties as excel­lent or oth­er­wise; and that the good grad­u­ally com­bine and become per­ma­nent, while the faulty, by the same grad­ual process, become obsolete.

Human frail­ties have ever found their way into Chris­t­ian insti­tu­tions, and per­vaded more or less all Chris­t­ian enter­prises; but the proof of time invari­ably deter­mines their char­ac­ter before the pub­lic, and causes them to be sev­ered from such connection–to be ejected from such society–and con­se­quently, to lose their influ­ence, while that which is excel­lent abides. Faults almost innu­mer­able may be traced in the his­tory of the Church; but the can­did reviewer, occu­py­ing our present posi­tion, can sep­a­rate the good from the bad. We are more imme­di­ately con­cerned, how­ever, to observe the char­ac­ter of Amer­i­can Chris­tian­ity–espe­cially those parts of it which have been most promi­nent and influ­en­tial, and which have gen­er­ated what may be called the reli­gious spirit of the age in our own quar­ter. It can­not be denied, that there is some­thing pecu­liar in Amer­i­can reli­gion. First, reli­gion here has been uncom­monly ener­getic. Next, it has assumed some strik­ing pecu­liar­i­ties in its modes of oper­a­tion. There has been a dis­po­si­tion to lay aside old forms, and to put on new ones; to make exper­i­ments; and the busi­ness of exper­i­ment­ing has been pushed so far as to bring the pub­lic mind to a pause. It may be prof­itable, there­fore, in the tem­po­rary and com­par­a­tive quiet of this hia­tus, to inter­pose a lit­tle philo­soph­i­cal inquiry.

Not to detract at all from the highly mer­i­to­ri­ous char­ac­ter of our fore­fa­thers, it will be obvi­ous to the observer of the past, that the reli­gious spirit of those who have had most influ­ence in form­ing the reli­gious char­ac­ter of this coun­try, was of the puri­tan­i­cal school. Thus far in this state­ment we are inno­cent, and hope that no ghost will start up before he is called. Nev­er­the­less, we begin to imag­ine a stir­ring in the graves. But we intend not to dis­turb the dead. We revere and laud that high Prov­i­dence, which trans­planted so much conscience–so much fear of himself–into these wilder­ness realms, and whose spirit has made this for­mer wild abode to bud and blos­som like the rose, morally and phys­i­cally. We have some respect even for puri­tanism in ‘its straitest sect;’ but in some of its forms, it was, in our opin­ion, rather too strait.

Doubt­less the puri­tanism of Eng­land was well pro­voked. But it was pro­voked. The pecu­liar­i­ties of its mood were the legit­i­mate prod­uct of oppres­sion; and its nat­ural off­spring, Dis­sent, has been nour­ished by the same cause. The puri­tans were aggrieved, and they came here for com­fort. They might have been blessed with a Cromwell for a king, if an order from gov­ern­ment had not thrown a bar­rier in his path of emi­gra­tion through the sea, and des­tined him for a higher and more sub­lime pur­pose, whether for good or for evil. Cer­tainly it was not for good, in the esti­ma­tion of those who had the ill luck to keep him back by their own mea­sures. They dreamed not, they were favored with no prophecy, of the work assigned to him. The reign of puri­tanism in Eng­land stands forth on the page of his­tory as a sin­gu­lar and instruc­tive drama, not to say tragedy. Doubt­less there was much virtue in it; but the sub­lime of its enact­ments was so closely allied to the ridicu­lous, that the reader who weeps must also be pre­pared to laugh.

Amer­ica was a bet­ter field for puri­tanism. It was a con­ge­nial soil. And beyond all ques­tion, here it has earned an hon­or­able dis­tinc­tion, and won lau­rels. Though it believed in witches, and hung them, (poor crea­tures!) it believed in God as well as in the devil. Though it ban­ished Roger Williams, and inter­dicted the Quak­ers, it had this good rea­son: ‘We came here to be by our­selves. Pray don’t dis­turb us, when the land is so wide!’ They who had expe­ri­enced intol­er­ance, might have some excuse for prac­tis­ing it–especially, as their the­ory and pur­pose was to have a com­mu­nity adher­ing to one cat­e­chism. They had taken and occu­pied vacant ground, (Indi­ans are not counted,) for the sake of peace; and they thought the best way to main­tain it, was to keep away dis­sentients from their opin­ions. Nev­er­the­less, dis­sentients came in, and dis­putes have pre­vailed. But the spirit of the puri­tan fathers also pre­vailed. That spirit, with cer­tain mod­i­fi­ca­tions of time and chance, has per­vaded New-​​England soci­ety, and, to a great extent, our land. Like the Scotch, who are never at home till they get abroad, the sons of New-​​England have also been rather ‘curi­ous.’ They have spread out to the north, to the east, to the west, and to the far west, and sent school-​​masters, as well as ped­lars, to the south. They have sub­dued the wilder­ness in all direc­tions; they have built and peo­pled our great cities and flour­ish­ing towns at the north and west; their bone and sinew have sus­tained our agri­cul­ture; their enter­prise built our man­u­fac­to­ries; and their love of gain has pushed our com­merce to the ends of the earth. First in reli­gion, espe­cially in the com­mend­able qual­ity of zeal, and first in schools and col­leges, they have been chief in influ­ence through­out all our bor­ders. Alas for the Pres­by­ter­ian church! (for their sakes we say it,) the Con­gre­ga­tion­al­ism of New-​​England gov­erns it. They must eman­ci­pate them­selves as best they can. It is not for us to say which is the bet­ter of the two.

Now be it known–such at least is our philosophy–the reli­gious nov­el­ties of the age, on our side of the water, owe their being to the New-​​England spirit, and had their germ in puri­tanism. The strait­ness of this excel­lent sect was too strait to last always. Chil­dren, kept so close on Sun­day as to run them­selves out of breath when let loose at sun-​​down, were very likely to relax that kind of dis­ci­pline when they came to be par­ents. The blue-​​laws of Con­necti­cut, once thrown off, were nat­u­rally sup­planted by a more gen­er­ous code. The Say­brook Plat­form has been thrown into the gar­ret, or buried beneath the wreck and dust of some other deposit of old rub­bish. Who can find a copy? And as for the West­min­ster Cat­e­chism, what pas­tor of New-​​England now assem­bles the chil­dren of his parish in the old school-​​house once a quar­ter to hear them recite this elab­o­rate and com­pre­hen­sive body of divin­ity, from begin­ning to end, as was the uni­ver­sal cus­tom of olden time? These blessed days of New-​​England have gone by. The fathers are dead. A new gen­er­a­tion, new laws, new cus­toms, and a dif­fer­ent set of man­ners, have succeeded.

But how did this grow out of puri­tanism? Is it not rather an aban­don­ment of that high char­ac­ter? There may be a lit­tle, and not a lit­tle, of truth in both. Puri­tanism was itself a nov­elty, and nov­elty begets nov­elty. We do not mean that it never had a type; but it was cast in an Eng­lish mould–a mould that was formed at a par­tic­u­lar junc­ture of Eng­lish his­tory, by the oper­a­tion of spe­cial and pecu­liar agen­cies; and even on Eng­lish ground, it could last in all its force only while the causes which pro­duced it con­tin­ued to take effect, and just in that pro­por­tion, allow­ing, indeed, a rea­son­able time for its nat­ural sub­si­dence. In Amer­ica, the causes did not exist, and the sub­si­dence was unavoid­able. It was indeed a high and stern char­ac­ter, which would require a space for its abate­ment into milder forms; but it was not in man to main­tain it with­out its orig­i­nal provocations.

If we were called to give a philo­soph­i­cal account of its pro­duc­tions, we should say briefly, that the basis of this char­ac­ter, inde­pen­dent of reli­gion, was that sturdy and indomitable love of lib­erty which has for so many cen­turies char­ac­ter­ized the Eng­lish. It was only nec­es­sary to graft reli­gion, the strongest pas­sion of man, on such a stock, to ren­der it truly sub­lime in its capa­bil­i­ties for endurance, or dar­ing under oppres­sion. The nat­ural con­se­quence of the annoy­ances and vex­a­tions of bad gov­ern­ment with such minds, and of encroach­ing on the rights of con­science, was the pro­duc­tion of a strik­ing sever­ity and deter­mi­na­tion of character–especially among the ruder and less cul­ti­vated classes of soci­ety. The fear of God, as every Chris­t­ian is happy to record, rose above the fear of man; all sym­pa­thy between the two great par­ties was divorced; and nei­ther could dis­cern the virtues of the other. The indif­fer­ent cus­toms of the oppres­sors were allied to their vices in the esti­mate of the oppressed, and the the­ory of per­fec­tion with the lat­ter was to eschew, repu­di­ate, and abhor that which was done or approved by the for­mer. Some of the high­est and most desir­able attain­ments and attrib­utes of civ­i­liza­tion were counted as sins, and incon­sis­tent with Chris­t­ian char­ac­ter, sim­ply because they were held dear by their oppo­nents. Refine­ment of man­ners was reck­oned a snare to the soul, and regarded as beneath the high aims of reli­gion, because it was the study of courtiers, and of the higher con­di­tions of life. To smile, was a mark of lev­ity, or a proof of unbe­com­ing thought­less­ness, because it might be a stage of progress toward a sin­ful mirth. All his­tor­i­cal rec­ol­lec­tions of prim­i­tive self-​​denial, and sac­ri­fice, and earthly painful­ness, were set up as the per­ma­nent lot of Chris­tians, and the mea­sure of present duty. ‘In the world ye shall have tribu­la­tion,’ was accepted as equally applic­a­ble to all the con­sci­en­tious, in all times and cir­cum­stances. In a word, the the­ory of Chris­t­ian char­ac­ter was moulded by the acci­dents of a pecu­liar con­di­tion; and those acci­dents con­tributed emi­nently to the for­ma­tion of a lofty and vig­or­ous char­ac­ter, a char­ac­ter which com­bined the most essen­tial ele­ments of moral sub­lim­ity, and oppres­sion matured and con­firmed it. There might be some acer­bity of tem­per under such provo­ca­tions, and rus­tic­ity of man­ners in such a course of train­ing. The germ of a ter­ri­ble ret­ri­bu­tion might lurk and lower amid the loftier aspi­ra­tions of a pure and heav­enly piety; for how could a deep and abid­ing sense of per­pet­ual wrong fail to have its influ­ence over minds but par­tially sanctified?–and the period of the inter­reg­num suf­fi­ciently devel­oped this fear­ful ingre­di­ent. Nev­er­the­less, it was, on the whole, a char­ac­ter to be respected, as well as to be feared. It was com­pounded of the best and of the worst ele­ments. But a trans­plan­ta­tion beyond sea, in a wilder­ness, where all the causes of its pro­duc­tion and the mod­i­fy­ing cir­cum­stances of its growth were want­ing, did not indeed at once reduce and new-​​create it; for it had been too long in com­ing to such a matu­rity, to for­get its for­mer being; it had acquired too much vigor, to bend and become sup­ple, even by a round of years, in a new world–in a field left to its own sole occu­pa­tion, unsup­ported by the blasts and storms of its native regions. But it was morally impos­si­ble that the sec­ond gen­er­a­tion in such cir­cum­stances should fully sus­tain the char­ac­ter of their fathers. The sec­ond was nat­u­rally des­tined to soften down yet more; the third to expe­ri­ence a far­ther mod­i­fi­ca­tion; and so on, till this char­ac­ter should nec­es­sar­ily, and to a great extent, be remod­elled by the altered cir­cum­stances of a new state of exis­tence. That cer­tain of the prim­i­tive fea­tures, enough for ever to iden­tify the race, should remain, was as nat­ural as that any should be effaced. And here we are, the chil­dren of our puri­tan fathers. Who could mis­take us?

Again, we solemnly aver, that we mean not to speak dis­re­spect­fully. Far from it. Eter­nal shame on the recre­ant, who could libel such a parent­age! Let the princes of the earth boast of their lin­eage; let the sons of a race embla­zoned with the proud­est her­aldry, hang out the flag that dis­plays their arms, and prove their worth and great­ness, by deci­pher­ing the emblems of a piece of parch­ment, bor­rowed from the remotest antiq­uity. Ours be the glory of descend­ing from a stock heaven-​​born by the imprint of the hand of God, who could dis­pute a right with kings, embar­rass the wicked coun­sels of their min­is­ters, mea­sure weapons with their armies, and found and main­tain an inde­pen­dent empire, to rival equally their wealth and power.

But this high claim affects not at all the mat­ters of fact in our moral and reli­gious his­tory. For us to assert a title to per­fec­tion, would be as fool­ish as untrue. He is wise who knows him­self; and so is that nation which under­stands its own his­tory, and under­stand­ing, prof­its by it. Human soci­ety has no where yet attained the best pos­si­ble con­di­tion. Nay, more: where is the com­mu­nity that has not in its bosom por­ten­tous ele­ments of mis­chief? And who will deny that it is the part of wis­dom to inves­ti­gate and expose them, and if pos­si­ble, to invent and apply a rem­edy? We have our virtues, doubt­less, though it might be more becom­ing to allow the world to see and acknowl­edge them, than to laud our­selves. Our fathers had their virtues–enough for us to be proud of; and they and their chil­dren have had their faults. Nei­ther is it dis­hon­or­able will­ingly to see and frankly to con­fess them. It is inju­di­cious; it is a dis­ease of the mind; it may lead to fatal error, to insist on bestow­ing and claim­ing praise for that in our­selves which is faulty.

While, there­fore, we pro­ceed to unfold yet more dis­tinctly and minutely the reli­gious blem­ishes of our national char­ac­ter, in their ori­gin and suc­ces­sive mod­i­fi­ca­tions, we are pre­pared to assert our respect, and even our ven­er­a­tion, for the virtues of our ances­tors. They who brought reli­gion, and planted and nour­ished it here, were men of a high order. Nev­er­the­less, it would be allow­ing more than belongs to man, in any stage of his his­tory, or to any set of men, to write them down as per­fect. We do con­sci­en­tiously believe, that the puri­tanism of Eng­land, and that por­tion of it which has so exten­sively leav­ened the reli­gion of this coun­try, was gravely faulty, in some very essen­tial and influ­en­tial par­tic­u­lars. We believe, more­over, that these faults have been, directly and indi­rectly, the occa­sion of evil–of dis­as­ter to our reli­gious history.

We have said, that puri­tanism was itself a nov­elty, in the form it assumed at the period to which we allude. It was the off­spring of cir­cum­stances pecu­liar to the time. We have hinted that it was the par­ent of nov­el­ties in a series of changes that have come down to our own day. Cer­tain it is, our eyes and ears have recently been forced to wit­ness some strange, not to say alarm­ing, exhi­bi­tions of reli­gion and moral reform, in this land. They have assumed an aspect to chal­lenge uni­ver­sal atten­tion. Who­ever feels an inter­est in Chris­tian­ity, can­not fail to look upon those extra­or­di­nary phe­nom­ena of the moral world, with some con­cern. They demand and must receive the most grave con­sid­er­a­tion. The press which sus­tains them must be the organ to dis­cuss them. They must be viewed calmly and con­sid­er­ately, and treated philo­soph­i­cally as well as con­sci­en­tiously. Beyond a ques­tion, they are novel devel­op­ments, but not with­out cause; and as cer­tain as there is a cause, we think it may be suf­fi­ciently pal­pa­ble to be traced. For our­selves, we have pre­sumed upon the essay, and will deliver our opinion.

We have inti­mated that the sever­ity of the puri­tan­i­cal char­ac­ter could not endure in all its vigor, with­out the con­tin­ued action of its pro­duc­ing causes. In cor­re­spon­dence with this the­ory, we observe, that the growth of this por­tion of Amer­i­can soci­ety has given birth to a grad­ual and unin­ter­rupted mod­i­fi­ca­tion. Not to speak of oth­ers, there are two attrib­utes very essen­tial to give per­ma­nency and con­trol­ling influ­ence to any spe­cific form of human soci­ety: antiq­uity and a proof com­mend­ing itself to the good sense of the com­mu­nity. Puri­tanism, in the form now under con­sid­er­a­tion, could not claim antiq­uity. True there had been things like to it; but this par­tic­u­lar type was well under­stood to have been of recent ori­gin. It grew out of resis­tance to oppres­sion, in part, within the mem­ory of liv­ing wit­nesses. It was the prod­uct of an acci­dent, and the resort of a tem­po­rary expe­di­ency. Cir­cum­stances being changed, and so far as it dif­fered from the doom of neces­sity, that same dis­cre­tion which adopted the expe­di­ent in one case might and would nat­u­rally accom­mo­date itself to another. So far as neces­sity was the cause, it was equally impos­si­ble to oppose neces­sity in a change of cir­cum­stances. The force of antiq­uity was utterly nugatory.

As to the arbi­tra­tions of good sense, it hardly need be said, at this time, that there were many things in puri­tanism which could not long be tol­er­ated under such an appeal. Hence almost the entire code of its more severe cus­toms has long since become obso­lete, even in the land of the pil­grim fathers. So far as they have not passed from mem­ory, they are handed down, not as author­ity, but sim­ply as an amus­ing, and in regard to some things, an incred­i­ble, tale. They who had rebelled against the estab­lished usages of soci­ety once, might do it again. They who had made a code, might amend it. Pecu­liar cir­cum­stances had formed the puri­tan­i­cal char­ac­ter in the mother coun­try; and there was no good rea­son why pecu­liar cir­cum­stances should not mod­ify, or re-​​model it in this. The author­ity of prece­dent in change was established.

Here, if we mis­take not, is devel­oped a prac­ti­cal secret of stu­pen­dous influ­ence over the reli­gious des­tinies of our coun­try. That there were good rea­sons for rebel­lion against the prelacy of Eng­land, and ade­quate causes for the pro­duc­tion of a dis­taste for Epis­co­pal usages on an extended scale, can hardly be denied.

Here was the begin­ning of an order of things, that has come down to us, and had more influ­ence in this than in the par­ent coun­try. Here it has taken the lead, for the rea­son that this land was made the refuge and asy­lum of those who felt them­selves injured, and who were injured, by the oper­a­tion of a sys­tem of oppres­sion. It is an instruc­tive les­son, and ought to stand up as a bea­con, in all com­ing time, among other his­tor­i­cal advices of the same class, to warn those who, clothed with legit­i­mate author­ity, are tempted to abuse it, by lord­ing it over God’s her­itage. To pro­voke and enforce schism in the Church of Christ, involves a most grave respon­si­bil­ity, and may lead to infi­nite mischief.

We have suf­fi­ciently recog­nised the fact of the ascen­dancy of puri­tari­ism in Amer­i­can soci­ety, and that its pecu­liar tem­pera­ment was the soul of a sys­tem of dis­sent from an Epis­co­pal orga­ni­za­tion. Again we say, we mean not to speak dis­re­spect­fully. Our aim is an exposé of facts, and, if pos­si­ble, to present a philo­soph­i­cal view of their his­tor­i­cal train. We respect the piety of the puri­tans, and desire to do jus­tice to all their virtues; and if we have not already shown a sat­is­fac­tory can­dor, we hope before we shall have done, abun­dantly to appease the most sen­si­tive par­tial­ity for our puri­tan ances­try. We are not unwill­ing to believe, that the orig­i­nal ele­ments of Amer­i­can soci­ety, in so far as this par­tic­u­lar class pre­dom­i­nated, were on the whole most happy, and will yet, in the long run, be over­ruled for the great­est good. Their virtues were stern and lofty, and their faults are sub­ject to the cor­rec­tive influ­ence of time and events. It was as impos­si­ble that the lat­ter should not have their race, as that the for­mer should not come in with their bal­ance of influ­ence, and finally obtain a con­ser­v­a­tive shape and com­mand­ing posi­tion. And this end, as we opine, will the sooner be accom­plished, as the pub­lic can be made to dis­crim­i­nate, by the instruc­tive career of events between the good and the bad. When­ever soci­ety, or any por­tion of it, runs off in a wrong direc­tion, it must ulti­mately find itself in a false posi­tion; and the dis­cov­ery being made, there is the same cer­tainty, if virtue enough remains, that it will aim at a recovery.

If we do not err in our dis­cern­ment of the signs of the times, there is even now a con­vic­tion rapidly obtain­ing in the pub­lic mind of this coun­try, that we have nearly if not quite arrived at a ne plus ultra of reli­gious rad­i­cal­ism; and that a con­ser­v­a­tive and redeem­ing influ­ence is being formed and grow­ing into impor­tance. The race of change, which has been a long time, even ages, in the course, has recently been so accel­er­ated, as to set the axles of the machin­ery on fire, and run off the wheels. The char­iot of reli­gious rad­i­cal­ism, we think, is tum­bling and falling.

In our opin­ion, this cat­a­stro­phe is not the prod­uct of an hour, nor of an age. We go far­ther back for the pri­mal cause. As a mat­ter of his­tory, we find that the lead­ing and most influ­en­tial reli­gious machin­ery of this coun­try was com­posed of the dis­lo­cated frag­ments of long-​​established Euro­pean insti­tu­tions, bro­ken off by con­vul­sions, not want­ing virtue so much as order, sym­me­try, and con­sis­tency. The virtue was strong, and while its char­ac­ter of firm­ness was main­tained, it could bet­ter dis­pense with a fixed and well-​​ordered machin­ery, sanc­tioned by time, and hav­ing a rea­son­able claim to apos­tolic ori­gin. But the rapid growth and the fer­vid con­di­tion of our social orga­ni­za­tion, have put the new the­ory to a test too stern for a felic­i­tous development.

[end of part one]

Worth

Rob Helpy-​​Chalk writes on moral scales, rank­ings, val­ues and goals:

Thus we see the dif­fer­ence between the Bush admin­is­tra­tion and al Qaeda; we see why we fight. Al Qaeda delib­er­ately tar­gets civil­ians. The Bush admin­is­tra­tion launches attacks that they know will kill civil­ians, but which are intended to kill com­bat­ants, even if they actu­ally have a small chance of doing so.

Leave no national meeting undrunk

We have just been pre­sented with a very use­ful and dynamic ver­sion of The 2nd Annual SODA Busi­ness Meet­ing Drink­ing Game:

Pro­ceed­ings Bonus Round:

  • This bonus round begins when some­one sug­gests elec­tronic pro­ceed­ings. Take a drink.
  • If any­one sug­gests elim­i­nat­ing paper pro­ceed­ings, take a drink.
  • Take a drink each time any of the fol­low­ing words are used: copy­right, ArXiv, ISBN, web, PDF, library, tenure, pro­mo­tion, ship/​shipping, heavy, Ama­zon, profit/​money
  • Take one drink for each sug­gested elec­tronic medium (CD-​​ROM, USB key, etc.)
  • I note that with a lit­tle for­mu­laic revi­sion, the game could be extended to almost any con­fer­ence I’ve ever attended.

    Noted in passing: Spencer on the trouble with Americans

    From The Con­tem­po­rary Review, Vol. 43, No. 1

    [Which I scanned the other day and am cur­rently proof­read­ing at Dis­trib­uted Proof­read­ers.]

    It is [an] easy-​​going readi­ness to per­mit small tres­passes, because it would be trou­ble­some or prof­it­less or unpop­u­lar to oppose them, which leads to the habit of acqui­es­cence in wrong, and the decay of free insti­tu­tions. Free insti­tu­tions can be main­tained only by cit­i­zens, each of whom is instant to oppose every ille­git­i­mate act, every assump­tion of supremacy, every offi­cial excess of power, how­ever triv­ial it may seem. As Ham­let says, there is such a thing as “greatly to find quar­rel in a straw,” when the straw implies a prin­ci­ple. If, as you say of the Amer­i­can, he pauses to con­sider whether he can afford the time and trouble–whether it will pay, cor­rup­tion is sure to creep in. All these lapses from higher to lower forms begin in tri­fling ways, and it is only by inces­sant watch­ful­ness that they can be pre­vented. As one of your early states­men said–“The price of lib­erty is eter­nal vig­i­lance.” But it is far less against for­eign aggres­sions upon national lib­erty that this vig­i­lance is required, than against the insid­i­ous growth of domes­tic inter­fer­ences with per­sonal lib­erty. In some pri­vate admin­is­tra­tions which I have been con­cerned with, I have often insisted that instead of assum­ing, as peo­ple usu­ally do, that things are going right until it is proved that they are going wrong, the proper course is to assume that they are going wrong until it is proved that they are going right. “You will find con­tin­u­ally that pri­vate cor­po­ra­tions, such as joint-​​stock bank­ing com­pa­nies, come to grief from not act­ing on this prin­ci­ple; and what holds of these small and sim­ple pri­vate admin­is­tra­tions holds still more of the great and com­plex pub­lic admin­is­tra­tions. Peo­ple are taught, and I sup­pose believe, that the “heart of man is deceit­ful above all things, and des­per­ately wicked;” and yet, strangely enough, believ­ing this, they place implicit trust in those they appoint to this or that func­tion. I do not think so ill of human nature; but, on the other hand, I do not think so well of human nature as to believe it will go straight with­out being watched.

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    Proposal: On Closing the Set

    Over at the Dis­trib­uted Proof­read­ers project, our goal is to accu­rately cap­ture, present and dis­trib­ute the con­tent of printed works in the pub­lic domain. Unlike the land grab efforts of Google Print and the like, our texts are [sup­pos­edly] bet­ter, more accu­rate, truer to the orig­i­nal pub­lished form. We rely on OCR to read the scanned text, but unlike those oth­ers we also acknowl­edge that OCR is fal­li­ble, and that cer­tain typo­graphic con­ven­tions that con­vey sub­tle meanings—line breaks, and em-dashes—need to be preserved.

    One of our num­ber, Jon Niehof [a.k.a. jnik], has a great and use­ful idea whose time has clearly come. Some time back, he began col­lect­ing the lists of books (or, more gen­er­ally, titled works) men­tioned in the works we’ve scanned and proof­read. The point for us work­ing in the DP com­mu­nity is of course to com­plete the set, to cre­ate a mov­ing front from which the next books for scan­ning can be chosen.

    And at the same time to cre­ate a self-​​consistent record of literature’s explicit relationships.

    And at the same time to cre­ate a dataset to record a novel “social” net­work, which is at the moment a sub­ject of some inter­est.

    With­out With Jon’s per­mis­sion, I’m going to sug­gest it’s time to take it out of DP and get the com­mu­nity most inter­ested involved. In DP we are over­whelmed with work, and the community’s con­ver­sa­tion cen­ters around how to get the work­flow slimmed down, not extended with­out hori­zon. [That said, please con­sider going and giv­ing it a try. You will be help­ing a unique vol­un­teer effort that cap­tures all the good of the land grab­bers, and can have a say in how it moves. I would con­sider sign­ing up, and proof­read­ing five pages, to be your way of acknowl­edg­ing the fact that you’ve read this piece.]

    What is needed, I think, is a special-​​purpose wiki, seeded with some start­ing point. Users could add works cited, men­tioned, adver­tised, or oth­er­wise appear­ing in oth­ers. And by works I mean not merely nov­els and tech­ni­cal mono­graphs, but cat­a­logs, reviews in mag­a­zines, and per­haps ulti­mately news­pa­per columns.

    Con­sider the ben­e­fits that could arise. First, it would forma sort of table of con­tents or direc­tory, since of course any title could even­tu­ally be linked to scans or Guten­berg edi­tions of the actual work. Sec­ond, there’s that net­work, that record of what appears where. Third, it will give me an excuse to do some­thing I’ve been putting off for some time (and which Jon once fret­ted would swamp his lit­tle inter­nal DP effort): Scan and upload our recently-​​purchased copy of Allibone’s A crit­i­cal dic­tio­nary of Eng­lish lit­er­a­ture…, which with its sup­ple­ments men­tions well over 130,000 works.

    So easy to do. One wiki, slowly accreting.

    But me, a mere stu­dent, a first-​​year grad­u­ate stu­dent in of all things engi­neer­ing? Hah. They wold drum me out for being dis­tracted by such non-​​mathematical triv­i­al­i­ties, of not being “seri­ous” about my stud­ies, of hav­ing my nose well away from the grind­stone and gaz­ing off towards left field. Those meanies.

    And think how many brownie points some­thing like this would bring to a pro­fes­sional, a real live scholar of lit­er­a­ture, or of net­works, or of prac­ti­cally any­thing not involv­ing lin­ear programming?

    It is yours. Please. Go right ahead. I will send along our Alli­bone as soon as it is ready.

    Update [20 Jan 2006]: Jon Niehof should get credit for his great idea of Clos­ing the Set.