Harpers Ferry National Historic Park is located, essentially, in a bowl. The town (which includes both the national parks and 300 private residences) is surrounded by the Appalachian Mountains. If you're feeling adventurous, you can't go wrong with Maryland Heights. Its a roughly 1/2 to 2 hour hike to the top of the hill, and much of it is fairly steep. At the top (or at the overlook if you don't want to go the entire way up) you can see beautiful views of the surrounding areas and be satisfied that you gave yourself a decent workout. In addition, throughout the hike you get the chance to see and hike around the remains of fortifications built by the Union forces stationed on this hill during the civil war. Even more helpful, there are numerous waysides that detail the efforts of union troops to build these defenses and how they dragged the cannons up themselves because the ground was too steep for the horses.
Valley Green is another excellent of where trails and history meet. Running along the Wissahickon Creek, this park has numerous signs that detail this areas rich history, be it the covered bridge, the remains of a mill, or a sign explaining the saga of the Delaware Indians that inhabited this Valley prior to European settlement. Visitors to this park include, hikers, bikers, and walkers, but what seems to unite them is that the signs draw them away from there walk, curious to learn just a little about those who walked this ground before them. They might not have come to the park expecting to learn something, but they leave, hopefully, a little more knowledgeable about the past... if they stop. Of course, some folks will ignore such packets of information, but it's certainly helpful that such nuggets of information are at least available to the average visitor.
For too many people, history is something that is contained in books and museums. The 19th century might well have been in Narnia for the way that many people conceptualize it. But history didn't take place in some far distant land, it took place all around us (the building I'm currently typing in survived both John Brown's raid and the Civil War). The difficultly is to return the people of the past to the places where they acted in a way that is meaningful to the average person.
The waysides on Maryland Heights do an excellent job with this, as its easy for the hiker to sympathize with the soldiers who were tasked with charting up the cannons to the top of the mountain. Waysides at battlefield trails that point out the distance between the two armies (and thus the distance soldiers had to charge) are also quite effective. Gettysburg and Culloden battlefields in particular are both very effective at this. By contrast, if I'm going for a run in Valley Green, its somewhat difficult for me to emphasize with the owner of a flour-mill, since I'm engaged in an entirely different task. A more meaningful wayside along the same stretch of trail details the efforts of the CCC to build the trail during the great depression. In this case, I'm not performing anything resembling trail maintenance on my run, I can appreciate the work of those who built the trail, there is a clear connection as I'm literally standing on the results of their efforts. One needs to only stare and imagine the sounds of battle in order to understand the challenges facing the soldiers. Its not enough to simply state information, as any park ranger will tell you, it needs to be meaningful for the visitor in order to make it stick. When done right, waysides along hiking/ running trail can be an excellent way to make this meaningful interpretation happen.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Why History?
I tend to get these questions quite often. Why study history? Why does it matter? Don't you realize that you probably won't ever be able to find a job with a history degree? I'm going to address the first two in this blog post (check back with me in five years about the third, but hopefully this post will give you an idea of why I'm not terribly worried about my career). While I'm certainly not an expert on history, I have loved the subject since I was nine and recently completed a degree in it, so, at the least, I have a pretty clear idea of why I chose history. Quite simply, history has value. Value in a external sense, and value in a personal/ internal sense
.
Imagine you took a walk into a forest. Its a beautiful day, the path is clear, and you're well-prepared with water and trail mix in your backpack. You get to the middle of the forest, and suddenly you lose your memory. You don't remember how you got into the forest, you don't remember where you're going, and you don't even remember the stuff you've packed in your backpack. Nothing else has changed, and in many ways you are still set for a successful hike, but you're now missing the essential component to your survival, your memory. In much the same way, a society without history has no idea of how it got to the present day, and consequently is much more likely to thrown off track as it moves towards the future. This is the value of history in the external sense. The actions of those who came before us shaped the world we live in today, and if were are to understand the 21st century, we need to understand the centuries that came before. Turn on any cable news program and the saying "those who don't know their history are doomed to repeat it" is bound to come up. However, knowing your history is not as easy as it may seem.
There is often the temptation to see history as a simple series of neatly recorded facts laid out in a book, all wrapped up in a neat little bow. What a lot of folks don't realize though is that the history books we read in school are the result of countless hours of research into primary sources (there's also, unfortunately, a lot of bureaucratic input that occurs as well, but that's a subject for another post). These sources include: chronicles, letters, transcripts, images, records, proclamations, oral accounts, pieces of graffiti, and numerous other pieces of information. The historian's task is to shift through all of this and attempt make sense of it, which is no easy task. Often times the accounts of events we have are contradictory (there are at least four accounts of the first battle of the French and Indian War, all of them presenting a different sequence of events). Oftentimes, these sources can be in different languages, some of which are no longer spoken. The historian must attempt to identify any biases in the source, determine the intentions of the individual who created it, weigh its trustworthiness, and determine how much weight to give it. Most importantly, a good historian will attempt to keep their own biases in check. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has biases which we can never fully remove, but we can attempt to keep them in check.
It's for this reason that two good historians can disagree. Some aspects of history everyone agrees with: the British surrendered at Yorktown, John Adams served as Washington's vice-president, and the Holocaust happened, but because of the uncertain nature of many primary sources two historians can look at the same document and come away with very different conclusions. For example, I was once in class about the later years of the Roman Empire. We were examining a document where a Frankish chief declares himself king over his people. He wears a purple robe, and the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Emperor is present at the ceremony. Another student in the class took this to mean that the Western Roman Empire still existed, as the king was paying homage to Roman traditions and his coronation only had legitimacy because of the presence of the Eastern Emperor. By contrast, I took it as a sign that the Western Roman Empire had effectively fallen at this point, since, in my view, the wearing of purple and the presence of a foreign king showed that this Frankish ruler saw himself as the successor to the Western Empire and an equal with the east (in much the same way as Russian Tsars portrayed themselves as heirs to the Byzantine Empire after the Turks conquered Constantinople). Who was right? Well, in this case it really does depend on the opinions of the individual reading the article. The decline and fall of Rome was a gradual event, the date most historians use is a convenient placeholder, but any serious Roman scholar will admit that the actual moment when the empire "fell' will continue to be debated for some time. Until someone figures out how to time travel to the past, we'll never know for sure how the folks who were there saw this event.
In that sense, the historian is less of a reporter and more like a detective. He must shift through the information, while keeping in mind the information that is not available to him. For much of history, most people could not write, so many of those stories are lost. Similarly, countless numbers of documents and artifacts have been destroyed over the centuries by war, censorship, and environmental forces. In some cases (such as the Saxon invasion of Briton) the historian will have only one or two written sources from which to try and understand the past. We will never know how exactly the people who lived before us thought and what their true intentions were, so for the most part there will be some stumbling around in the forest that is the present day. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. After all, if you are lost in the forest and have a least a dim idea of how you got there, you are still in a better spot than if you remembered nothing. That's is why we study external history, there will never be a perfect, clear view of the past, but we can get, at the least, a workable idea. And that, good reader, is infinitely better than nothing.
External history provides insights about the world, internal history provides us insights about ourselves. More so than external history, internal history is the story of people, individuals who are living in very different circumstances then we are, but who nevertheless feel the same emotions as ourselves. They loved, the lost, they grew, they changed, some were ambitious, some were modest, but all were human, just the same as you and me. At its best, internal history allows us to examine the lives of those who came before as window into our own personalities. One of the stories I tell on tours is of a woman named Millie. Millie was a slave in the 1850s and the only information we have about her comes from a letter in which her new owner notes that she has a bad cough. On first glance, the conclusion might be that Millie is sick, but historians have posited that perhaps she was actually faking her cough and engaging in a form of resistance. If she could convince her new master that she was sick, perhaps she would be sent back to her family the reasoning goes. It's a quiet form of resistance, and its not going to end the institution of slavery, but for Millie, her coughing was an attempt to return to her family, the people who loved her. Contrast that with Nat Turner, who attempted to end the institution of slavery with weapons. The internal value of history is that it allows people to ask "what would I have done in that situation?" and oftentimes this question will require a lot of thinking. In this way, the stories of the past help us gain insight about ourselves that we might not otherwise realize.
I've described how external and internal history are supposed to work, but naturally the two can be badly misconstrued. While two historians might disagree about a document, others will actually twist history to suit their own ends. The best example of this is probably Holocaust denial. Individuals, with their own political ends, will state that the Nazi's mass murder of the Jews never happened, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Oftentimes, they will say that they are simply challenging traditional interpretations, when, in reality they are actually ignoring the overwhelming evidence. There is a difference between looking at sources and facts in a different way, and outright denying their existence. Typically, such "historians" won't cite much, instead relying on twisted logic and their own feelings to guide them. Their feelings, rather then the historical sources, are what dictate their views.
The use of internal history can also face problems, particularly from simplification. I often have children ask me whether the uniform I'm wearing makes me a bad guy or a good guy. Of course, that's the way children think, but you'd be surprised how many adults approach history with a moral absolutist perspective. Either a historical person is good (that is, they have no faults), or bad. Now, in history there are some folks who most people would consider to be "monsters" (Hitler, Leopold II for example), and in those folks it is quite hard to find any redeeming characteristics. However, you will probably never find a "good" historical figure, an individual with no faults. Rather the majority of folks have a mixture of good and bad qualities and that affects their actions, which is the same of people today. That doesn't mean that we should write them off as villains and be done with them, their moral complexity makes them human and thus offers much more to learn about ourselves than a perfect individual would. Too often however, people wish to see history as a struggle between good and bad, when the reality is much more complex. History isn't Star Wars or Lord of the Rings with evil and good clearly marked out, its a larges mixture of characters who you will often agree with sometimes and disagree with in others. History is a human story, and humans aren't perfect.
History has a lot to teach us both about ourselves and world we live in, but history itself is a never ending detective story that requires careful research, disciplined logic, and a large measure of self-control. Oftentimes, these three factors are not apparent in today's discussions which harms our ability to really learn from the past. That is why I study history. Its value, in many ways, remains unappreciated and is prone to be twisted. The world needs to understand its past, and as long as that's the case, there will always be a role for history and the historian.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Machiavelli, Underwood, and Tyrion Lannister (Part 2)
Netflix's House of Cards has been a surprise hit for the online-streaming service, and its not hard to see why. The saga of a corrupt congressman who will do anything to gain power and revenge is a truly engrossing saga, if some of the situations he encounters are a little bit far-fetched. When it comes to Machiavellian tactics, Underwood is a compelling case study, and he will be the focus of this post. For those of you who are fans of the British version of House of Cards, don't worry, I have a feeling I'll tackle that series sometime in the near future.
To surmise, Machiavelli stated that a ruler should try to be good, but should be willing to cross the line if need be. However, he should be careful to ensure that he is noted hated, as that can be a death sentence. When it comes to stepping over the line, the poster should give a clear indication that Underwood has no problems getting his hands dirty.
To surmise, Machiavelli stated that a ruler should try to be good, but should be willing to cross the line if need be. However, he should be careful to ensure that he is noted hated, as that can be a death sentence. When it comes to stepping over the line, the poster should give a clear indication that Underwood has no problems getting his hands dirty.
(He also has no problems with stealing the statue of Lincoln from the Lincoln Memorial...the Monster)
If Underwood needs to bribe someone he does; if he needs to bust someone out of prison; he'll do so, and if he needs to kill someone, he'll get them drunk, drive them home, and then leave them to die as their car fills with carbon monoxide. Reviewers have often used the word 'pragmatic' to describe Underwood's character, and its a pretty fair judgement. Despite his clear disdain for those he works with, I never got the sense that Underwood ever ruined someone just to ruin them. If ruining someone fit into his goals for obtaining power, he did it, but he never went out of his way to do so.
So Underwood is clearly willing to take the bloody road to power, if he needs to. At the same time, unlike Tyrion, people like him. Of course, he has enemies, but they only become enemies after he's robbed them of their power and influence (as the rep for teacher's union finds out the hard way). In addition, he expertly plays the part of a generally nice guy. He intervenes to help the Chief of Staff's son get into Stanford, he takes the lead on the education bill, and he masterminds a plan to win the governorship of Pennsylvania for the Democrats. He does all of this after he is passed over for the position of Secretary of State, which makes the president think 'Gee, what a great guy!' Thus, no one in power is out to get him, and his constituents seem to be pretty cool with him as well (he handles the peach incident with a lot of political flair in class).
Underwood's Machiavellian skills also extend to his wife. As the head of a NGO that builds wells in Africa, its easy for her to convince others that her goals are noble. Granted social improvement has been used by people to gain power for most of history (the first national healthcare system was instituted under Otto Von Bismark in Imperial Germany), but Claire Underwood is pretty good at portraying herself as just interested in helping others. And in fairness, she does appear to show real concern when the Sudanese government refuses to unload her supplies. However, unlike Underwood, she occasionally lets her emotions get the best of her. Throughout the show, its implied that she is undergoing menopause and she is jealous of her pregnant co-worker, which inadvertantly leads to her getting sued.
So Underwood seems to have the Machiavellian thing down, but his actions seem to suggest a flaw in Machiavelli's philosphy. The show is titled 'House of Cards' for a reason, suggesting that the tower to power that he built is very unsteady. Indeed, the finale episode concludes, its implied that Zoe Barnes, his former lover and collaborator, is going to expose his crimes to the world. This opens up an interesting question, of what a ruler should do if the public were to find out about the terrible things that he has done. Machiavelli writes that a ruler should do any cruel actions at the beginning of his reign, but Underwoods actions are parceled out, and grow worse and worse as the season progresses. That being said, Underwood can use his influence to inspire fear when need be, and he does have leverage over Barnes in the form of some 'unflattering' photographs he's taken of her. Time (aka Season 2) will tell whether Underwood's house of cards will tumble, but for now he seems to have mastered the Machiavellian ladder to power. Whether he continues to climb or is falls from said ladder remains to be seen...
Monday, March 18, 2013
Machiavelli, Underwood, and Tyrion Lannister Part 1
Everyone has an opinion on Machiavelli. He has been alternatively praised
and vilified, his works drawing praise for their pragmatic approach to government,
while also being condemned for their supposed lack of morals. Indeed, there is
as much debate about the man himself as there is about the value of his works.
Before we begin however, I just want to clarify the focus of the discussion.
For the next two blog posts we'll focus on his work in The Prince, and we
move forward with assumption that he was being serious when he wrote it. I know
that there is a lot of debate about whether or not he wrote the work as a
satire, which one can (and many have) write whole books on the subject, but,
for the purposes of the discussion today, we'll stick with the view that he
wrote it as an honest attempt to return to the good graces of the Medici
family. In addition, while I have read his work The Discourses, today's
post will focus mostly on what he wrote in the Prince despite the fact
that our second character of discussion, Francis Underwood of House of
Cards, is part of a republic rather than a principality. I have done this
because The Discourses focus on the Republic as a single entity and is
concerned mostly about government, while The Prince focuses on the individual
and places a greater focus on the concept of power.
When it comes to power, Tyrion Lannister knows that he isn't going to get it through strength. Despite being everyone's favorite character, Tyrion is despised in Westeros due to his small stature and lose morals. As such, as Tyrion explains to Jon Snow, '[w]ell, my brother has his sword and I have my mind. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone'. In fact, Tyrion's mind helps him climb the ranks of the kindom even sooner than he expected. With Joffrey as the new king, Robb Stark marching on King's Landing, and Ned Stark dead (insert obligatory joke about Sean Bean dying in every movie/show he’s in), Tywin Lannister dispatches his son to King's Landing to serve as Hand of the King. As a result, we the viewers get one of the greatest scenes in television history...
So, the question becomes, does Tyrion rule in a Machiavellian manner? Well, the question is a more complex then it might seem. Machiavelli's work has often been simplified to the idea that it is better to be feared than loved, but such a statement ignores the complexity of Machiavelli's arguement. As I wrote in an essay for my History of Political Thought Class...
“As Machiavelli sees it, the average man is ‘ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours’.[1] Note the term as, ‘as long as you succeed’, which essentially means that being nice to an individual will only guarantee loyalty as long as the prince doesn’t fail. Therefore, to rely on kindness is to rely on luck and, as Machiavelli has argued, the prince who is most successful is the one who relies least on fortune.[2] Comparing fortune to a river, Machiavelli argues that one must be prepared for misfortune to flood one’s banks, lest it destroy everything that a person has worked for.[3] In the political sense, this means ensuring that those who could abandon a ruler are kept in their place via fear. As ‘fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails’, Machiavelli argues that a man frightened of a ruler will not challenge them.[4].
However, unlike other writers, Machiavelli never states that violence and other cruel actions should be considered moral.[5] Rather he says that they are necessary sometimes, but only within a given set of parameters. While it is good to be feared, to be hated is often a death sentence for a prince, and, to avoid that, he recommends avoiding taking one’s subjects’ property and women, and to only taking life when one has just cause.[6] Provided a king never acts in a wanton and cruel manner, one could argue that he can still have a reign that was mostly committed to being just.”
Essentially, people are bad which means that a ruler must step outside of the bounds of morality at certain points in order to keep control. That being said, a ruler should not act in a fashion that makes him hated, and forces the people to view him as a tyrant (read: Joffrey). So, Tyrion comes to court, and, for the most part, he does a pretty good job. He successfully prevents Joffrey from doing anything catastrophic and his defenses help ensure the Lannister victory at the Battle of the Blackwater. At the same time, he never does anything to make him hated by the people. While certain members of the old council disappear, but neither the population of King's Landing nor the viewer/reader at home really cares that he shipped off the former commander of the City Watch.
However, Tyrion ultimately fails at this Machiavellian strategy of governing for the simple fact that, despite everything, he still winds up being hated. Part of that is beyond his control. As the Kingdom is fighting a civil war, food supplies and refugees become a major problem, and despite Tyrion's best efforts people do end up suffering. Secondly, the nature of his short status means that the people were more likely to despise him due to prejudice, so he would have needed to have gone the extra mile to win their trust (spoiler for season 3), an action such as Margarey Tyrell’s passing out food to the subjects would have greatly helped his efforts to win the hearts and minds of the people (end spoilers).
However, Tyrion's biggest enemies are not the common people but his fellow nobles at court. While The Prince focused mostly on the relationship between king and commoner, the idea of making sure that people don't hate you also applies to a rulers' nobility. In this area, Tyrion seems to have done nothing but make enemies. He sends his sister's only daughter to Dorne without consulting her, arrests the Grand Maester, and criticizes and slaps Joffrey (as I mentioned before, these actions under any other context should have won him a medal). Like his relationship with the subjects, he was on poor footing to begin with. Cersei hated him since their mother died birthing him, and many other members of the nobility were subject to the same prejudices that the commoners in King's Landing believed in. This hatred ultimately culminates in Cersei ordering one of the King's Guard to murder Tyrion. Luckily he survives, but in that time, his father returns to King's Landing, his enemies consolidate, and Tyrion finds himself without allies (and things only get worse from there...).
One of the greatest things about Tyrion as a character is that he doesn't care what other people think and he's willing to call others out on their faults. However, it’s that same personality that causes him to be hated by both commoner and nobility. As Machiavelli noted, a ruler must not be hated, and, in Tyrion’s case, he never seemed to try and prevent or lessen the animosity that others felt towards him. Otherwise he ruled just as Machiavelli said that a ruler should, attempting to be a just ruler, while toeing the line of morality when need be. Unfortunately, while his few friends appreciated him, and the nobility did begin to fear him, he was never able to achieve the popularity that would have allowed him to hold on to power.
To that's how Tyrion Lannister fits in with Machiavelli. Stayed tuned for how well Francis Underwood, the anti-hero of the acclaimed miniseries House of Cards fits the Machiavellian model...
When it comes to power, Tyrion Lannister knows that he isn't going to get it through strength. Despite being everyone's favorite character, Tyrion is despised in Westeros due to his small stature and lose morals. As such, as Tyrion explains to Jon Snow, '[w]ell, my brother has his sword and I have my mind. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone'. In fact, Tyrion's mind helps him climb the ranks of the kindom even sooner than he expected. With Joffrey as the new king, Robb Stark marching on King's Landing, and Ned Stark dead (insert obligatory joke about Sean Bean dying in every movie/show he’s in), Tywin Lannister dispatches his son to King's Landing to serve as Hand of the King. As a result, we the viewers get one of the greatest scenes in television history...
So, the question becomes, does Tyrion rule in a Machiavellian manner? Well, the question is a more complex then it might seem. Machiavelli's work has often been simplified to the idea that it is better to be feared than loved, but such a statement ignores the complexity of Machiavelli's arguement. As I wrote in an essay for my History of Political Thought Class...
“As Machiavelli sees it, the average man is ‘ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, and as long as you succeed they are yours’.[1] Note the term as, ‘as long as you succeed’, which essentially means that being nice to an individual will only guarantee loyalty as long as the prince doesn’t fail. Therefore, to rely on kindness is to rely on luck and, as Machiavelli has argued, the prince who is most successful is the one who relies least on fortune.[2] Comparing fortune to a river, Machiavelli argues that one must be prepared for misfortune to flood one’s banks, lest it destroy everything that a person has worked for.[3] In the political sense, this means ensuring that those who could abandon a ruler are kept in their place via fear. As ‘fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails’, Machiavelli argues that a man frightened of a ruler will not challenge them.[4].
However, unlike other writers, Machiavelli never states that violence and other cruel actions should be considered moral.[5] Rather he says that they are necessary sometimes, but only within a given set of parameters. While it is good to be feared, to be hated is often a death sentence for a prince, and, to avoid that, he recommends avoiding taking one’s subjects’ property and women, and to only taking life when one has just cause.[6] Provided a king never acts in a wanton and cruel manner, one could argue that he can still have a reign that was mostly committed to being just.”
Essentially, people are bad which means that a ruler must step outside of the bounds of morality at certain points in order to keep control. That being said, a ruler should not act in a fashion that makes him hated, and forces the people to view him as a tyrant (read: Joffrey). So, Tyrion comes to court, and, for the most part, he does a pretty good job. He successfully prevents Joffrey from doing anything catastrophic and his defenses help ensure the Lannister victory at the Battle of the Blackwater. At the same time, he never does anything to make him hated by the people. While certain members of the old council disappear, but neither the population of King's Landing nor the viewer/reader at home really cares that he shipped off the former commander of the City Watch.
However, Tyrion ultimately fails at this Machiavellian strategy of governing for the simple fact that, despite everything, he still winds up being hated. Part of that is beyond his control. As the Kingdom is fighting a civil war, food supplies and refugees become a major problem, and despite Tyrion's best efforts people do end up suffering. Secondly, the nature of his short status means that the people were more likely to despise him due to prejudice, so he would have needed to have gone the extra mile to win their trust (spoiler for season 3), an action such as Margarey Tyrell’s passing out food to the subjects would have greatly helped his efforts to win the hearts and minds of the people (end spoilers).
However, Tyrion's biggest enemies are not the common people but his fellow nobles at court. While The Prince focused mostly on the relationship between king and commoner, the idea of making sure that people don't hate you also applies to a rulers' nobility. In this area, Tyrion seems to have done nothing but make enemies. He sends his sister's only daughter to Dorne without consulting her, arrests the Grand Maester, and criticizes and slaps Joffrey (as I mentioned before, these actions under any other context should have won him a medal). Like his relationship with the subjects, he was on poor footing to begin with. Cersei hated him since their mother died birthing him, and many other members of the nobility were subject to the same prejudices that the commoners in King's Landing believed in. This hatred ultimately culminates in Cersei ordering one of the King's Guard to murder Tyrion. Luckily he survives, but in that time, his father returns to King's Landing, his enemies consolidate, and Tyrion finds himself without allies (and things only get worse from there...).
One of the greatest things about Tyrion as a character is that he doesn't care what other people think and he's willing to call others out on their faults. However, it’s that same personality that causes him to be hated by both commoner and nobility. As Machiavelli noted, a ruler must not be hated, and, in Tyrion’s case, he never seemed to try and prevent or lessen the animosity that others felt towards him. Otherwise he ruled just as Machiavelli said that a ruler should, attempting to be a just ruler, while toeing the line of morality when need be. Unfortunately, while his few friends appreciated him, and the nobility did begin to fear him, he was never able to achieve the popularity that would have allowed him to hold on to power.
To that's how Tyrion Lannister fits in with Machiavelli. Stayed tuned for how well Francis Underwood, the anti-hero of the acclaimed miniseries House of Cards fits the Machiavellian model...
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