
Scott Horton is The Librarian. He opens wide the doors and invites you to discover the details and texture of the sublime and the brutal creature that we are. Fluent in several languages, Mr. Horton uses his interest in art, music and literature to illuminate his analysis of law and politics. A recent post used an early 17th century sonnet and a period painting to introduce Galileo’s reflections on art as the "grammar" of the mind, and on music and science as the "language" of nature.
The comment is interesting as intellectual history (not David Brooks often faux version of it), and as a reflection on the "war" on science that religious and popular demagogues insist we fight, an intentionally distracting echo of the war Galileo fought with the Vatican.
The drive for an increasingly universal medium of communication leads Galileo to consider and value the graphic arts, poetry and music, in particular, as the other most promising paths. Galileo does not view them as rivals or alternatives to the scientific method which is his chief focus. Rather he sees them, well pursued, as essential adjuncts which will aid understanding, and—in the case of music and graphic arts—move it beyond the limitations inherent in words.
Another post complements Marcy Wheeler’s work on the secretive politico-religious cult housed on Capitol Hill’s C Street and known as The Family. (No record of whether members’ last names end in a vowel or whether they all share the same political Godfather, or whether, like Carly Fiorina, it has failed to register itself for business and tax purposes.)
Others discuss our social obligation to work for the common good, in the context of celebrating the 400th birthday of John Calvin, and the Justice Department’s oxymoronic Office of Professional Responsibility, where "investigations" of illegal and unprofessional conduct by DoJ lawyers are treated like guests at the Hotel California: they check in, but never check out.
If Mr. Horton is the Librarian, David Brooks is the special exhibits attendant. He hangs about outside the display hall, handing out glossy, single page, color brochures prepared by his latest corporate benefactor. He uses his knowledge of history, literature and sociology not to illuminate or entice us into further inquiry, but to substitute for it.
That contrast struck me in reading a side comment by Mr. Horton, made when describing the book that led to Galileo’s final confrontation with the Vatican. He notes,
Galileo…talks about the newly discovered Indies and the wondrous and alien civilization there. But his major concern is communication: how do we communicate our learning to them, and absorb also their attainments?
The need to absorb their attainments, as well as to transmit ours?. American public elites have lost their ability to listen (assuming earlier elites had it). They largely seek to protect and empower themselves, not those they are bound to represent. The Limbaughs and Becks and Bushes and Cheneys superimpose their thoughts on the supposed blank or corrupted slates of those they dominate – at home and abroad.
More troubling is the comment’s reference to Hispaniola. It’s not a beach destination or the poorest island in the Caribbean, but a metaphor for the horrors inflicted on those conquered by empire or deemed a threat to imperial comfort:
[T]he landing of Christopher Columbus in the New World initiated a genocide in which the indigenous population of Hispaniola [500,000] was annihilated….[T]his was the first stage of what was presented as a benign expansion of the new nation, but which involved the violent expulsion of Native Americans, accompanied by unspeakable atrocities, from every square mile of the continent, until there was nothing to do but herd them into reservations.
Once our elite immunizes itself from its own illegal behavior, it no longer needs to listen to its own citizens, even as a pretense. And the mistreatment it metes out to little brown Muslims over there becomes easier to make the norm over here, all in order to keep us "szafe".



7 Comments







We don’t seem to have come very far in four hundred years. Horton refers to Galileo’s desire to learn from newfound inhabitants in Hispaniola; instead we drove them into slavery and extinction, learning nothing except how they could die in abundance.
As for the outcome when morality conflicts with profit, this 1610 letter to a Catholic priest in the New World, asking for clarification on the morality of holding slaves, gives the answer. It reads like an excerpt from a John Yoo “legal opinion” authorizing his king’s minions to torture. I wonder if Yoo used it as precedent? Per Howard Zinn:
Great piece! I like getting philosophical on a Sunday evening.
Recommended. Thank you, Earl. Your fine diary has served me up a banquet of thoughts this morning…
Did you see the PBS special about the discovery of perhaps the oldest musical instrument ever found? It was a flute made of bone found in a cave somewhere in Europe. Then, there’s the cave paintings with many handprint signatures, leaving us a record of the lives of our earliest ancestors.
As a farm child (long ago) I learned to observe the animals, to discern their mood for often I was responsible for them. The cows and pigs weren’t interested in communication unless I had their food. The horses were an entirely different matter. If I approaced them arms extended, hands palms- up (no rocks, no blood) they clustered around me, competing for attention. They would stay as long as I whistled softly, hummed a lazy tune or talked with them in non-threatening tones. Without realizing it I was learning early the necessity of understanding others.
For many years I worked in a federal benefit program in a position in which I dealt directly with people of all types and walks of life. I would go from explaining benefits or problems with a lawyer or accountant to next dealing with a deaf, blind or mentally impaired person or someone who spoke in a language of which I had no knowledge. The most important clue to successfully resolving their problem was, as you point out, listening to them and being perceptive of the many ways we silently communicate.
I can truthfully recall only one collossal failure to communicate. An Empress invaded the crowded reception room. She intruded upon my conversation with a claimant and demanded immediate handling of her issue ahead of all others. She “had no ears”, and the matter deteriorated to the point I threatened to have her escorted out. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m a schoolteacher!”
My supervisor approached and, you guessed it, the Empress got her demands met immediately. As she left the office she approached my desk and actually apologized. I told her calmly that I did not accept her apology; that it was the roomful of people who were ahead of her that she should apologize to.
It seems to me that the group of people who “have no ears” is growing rapidly and many are in positions of authority. Their descendants may be born without those appendages on each side of their head, for their ancestors failed to use them.
I didn’t see that documentary, but agree with you that the “me mentality” is something the GOP stoked for quite some time. Destroy the notion of we, substitute me, and communal action through government becomes less desirable or understood.
What that leaves is the more obvious defense, finance, foreign affairs and commercial treaties, which the Goopers like because they can redirect hundreds of billions of tax dollars to private corporations.
That social programs are as or more legitimate uses of public funds and constructive government attention is the framing we’ve lost and the war we’re in.
I didn’t find the documentary about the oldest flute online, but here is the National Geographic story about it.
Our ancestors have something to teach us. At the museum in Les Eyzies de Tayac, we see a bunch of artifacts from the Magdalenian culture, and nearby, the abris where they lived. People have taught themselves how to do the flint knapping and how to use those flints to skin deer, and how to carve statues.
In one of the caves nearby, there are beautiful paintings, made in the dark. They hollowed out depressions in ledges below the paintings, filled them with oil and burned juniper wicks for candlelight.
Under one of the ledges, there is a hand in negative, the kid blew blue paint through a reed onto his hand. You have to love these guys.
Masacccio, that’s a fascinating story. Has anyone studied the paint? How did the ancients make it/discover it? Berry juice? How has it lasted so long?