I stopped following Walter Williams around the time I learned he was a war hawk, but Lew Rockwell points us to Williams’s latest column, which is definitely worth a read. Here are the central questions:

In 1970, when environmentalists were making predictions of manmade global cooling and the threat of an ice age and millions of Americans starving to death, what kind of government policy should we have undertaken to prevent such a calamity? When Ehrlich predicted that England would not exist in the year 2000, what steps should the British Parliament have taken in 1970 to prevent such a dire outcome? In 1939, when the U.S. Department of the Interior warned that we only had oil supplies for another 13 years, what actions should President Roosevelt have taken? Finally, what makes us think that environmental alarmism is any more correct now that they have switched their tune to manmade global warming?

I used this expression for about the first 25 years of my life. Of course it says the opposite of what it means, but it seemed to me that (1) all New Yorkers used this expression, and (2) we all meant it ironically.

I had a girlfriend after college who reacted like the woman in this comic strip. It drove her crazy.

What’s more, she couldn’t believe that I of all people — someone who was especially persnickety about logical and linguistic consistency — would use such an ignorant expression. I ignored her. I owe her an apology about that, I suppose. I experienced our difference as dueling regionalisms. (She was from Virginia.)

A couple years later, when I started reading books on linguistic nitpicking, I finally realized I’d been giving my fellow New Yorkers too much credit. Apparently “less” is mistakenly read as a negative, so “not … less” reads as a double negative, when it isn’t.

But I must confess that I could still care less.

In a footnote to his recent review of Human Smoke, David Gordon used the expression “King Charles’s Head.” I had no idea what that meant, so I looked it up. Once I knew its definition, I wanted a way to communicate it to any other readers of the Mises Review who shared my ignorance. The problem is that most free dictionaries online are ugly and full of ads. So I decided to create an entry at Wiktionary.org. I created the entry as “King Charles’s Head,” exactly as Gordon used it. One of the Wiktionary regulars corrected and expanded my entry. Here’s the note he left me:

Sorry, I made a mess of King Charles’ head. Please feel free to improve that entry. King Charles’s head should be marked as an {{alternative spelling of}} or {{misspelling of}}. But King Charles’ Head with a capital on Head is incorrect. Yours Conrad.Irwin 20:39, 9 May 2008 (UTC)

I changed “Head” to “head” in the review, but as I wrote the wiktionarian (perhaps in the wrong place?), I don’t understand his stripping away the ’s from King Charles’s name:

Conrad.Irwin, thanks for catching the spurious capital and thanks for expanding the entry. Thanks also for teaching me some wiki syntax; I’m new here, as the rest of this message will no doubt reinforce.

I’m confused about your change in the spelling of the singular possessive, from Charles’s to Charles’.

I see 3 arguments for the former:

1. The reference is originally to Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield, where it is spelled “King Charles’s head.”
2. The Chicago Manual of Style says, “The possessive of a title or name is formed by adding ’s {Lloyd’s of London’s records} {National Geographic Society’s headquarters} {Dun & Bradstreet’s rating}. This is so even when the word ends in a sibilant {Dickens’s novels}…”
3. The much more accessible Elements of Style says the same in its very first rule:

Form the possessive singular of nouns with ’s.

Follow this rule whatever the final consonant. Thus write,

• Charles’s friend
• Burns’s poems
• the witch’s malice

This is the usage of the United States Government Printing Office and of the Oxford University Press.

Is there a Wiktionary style guide I should be referring to instead?

Thanks again.

I was recently forwarded this 2-year-old Non Sequitur as part of an email “memorial chain” for the victims of the Holocaust. My suspicion is that this is an exercise in preaching to the choir: the recipients of this email memorial will probably say “Amen,” but think nothing new and do nothing new because of it.

Maybe this blog is a similar exercise in choir preaching, but it continues to bother me that history’s atrocities are blamed on “extremists.”

Extremism is just a dirty word for logical consistency. Don’t blame Nazism on logical consistency. Blame it on the root philosophy — a philosophy of government and economy that very few in the choir understand beyond the central emphasis that the Nazis hated Jews and murdered millions.

Here’s what I wrote about all this 2 years ago:

I, extremist

Today’s Non-Sequitur is upsetting on several levels.

Seeing Danae in a concentration camp had the effect on me I’m sure Wiley sought. And I’m the last person to claim that there’s anything inherently wrong with references to Hitler or the Holocaust (see “In Defense of Referencing Hitler”) but when you make such comparisons, you’d better be clear on the parallel, and you’d better be right.

Having learned where and why the old man involuntarily received his numerical tattoo, Danae wonders why he hasn’t had it removed…

I don’t know whether Wiley meant to be targeting neocon war hawks, the Religious Right, the Bush administration, or extremists in general, but the words he chose explicitly target all political extremists, which would include me.

As Karl Hess wrote for Barry Goldwater,

…extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice. And let me remind you also that moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.”

Every attack on political extremism is an attack on principle. The consistent application of principle is by definition extremist (so long as we’re actually defining terms and using them consistently, rather than appealing always and only to emotional reflexes). It should be clear to anyone who can keep his knee from jerking for 30 seconds, that the problem isn’t extremism per se, but rather which ideology is being applied in the extreme. Extreme pacifists will tend to behave quite differently from extreme nationalists. Extreme libertarians (i.e., liberal anarchists) will not lock people up just because of their background, whereas extreme egalitarians already have.

The standard attack on extremism is not an appeal to reason, but its opposite: the conflation of ideologies and the decrying of principle.

So according to Wiley, extremism in the defense of liberty can lead to another Holocaust. Try to figure that one out!

The problem isn’t only with confusion on the words principle and extremism; there’s also the standard problem that comes from the leftist map of politics. The Left and Right dichotomy may have started with 18th and 19th-century French republicans, but it has been applied throughout the world (especially the West) by 20th-century socialists.

First the Left is defined as progress, as it was for the French (and for classical liberals in general, back when progressives were the people who opposed the Ancien Regime). But now “progress” is linked to the State as egalitarian regulator, social safety net, etc. Thus “Progressives” are always calling for bigger and ever more pervasive government.

The Right, in contrast, is anyone opposed to the Left, anyone opposed to their vision of progress. We are the reactionaries, again by definition. For the socialists who controlled and continue to control the political language of Establishment intellectuals, all opponents of socialism are rightwing — to varying degrees. So the classical liberals were rightwing, but then so were the fascists.

You might object, isn’t fascism just nationalist socialism? Didn’t the national socialists oppose liberal capitalism just as much as they opposed illiberal Communism? Sure, but to the left-socialists, any non-egalitarian socialists weren’t real socialists. Since the fascists claimed to be defending the bourgeoisie and were, in fact, the dominant opposition to the Communists in many parts of the world, they were really the Right. Maybe these rightwingers said they opposed free-market capitalism, but any good socialist could see right through that: fascism was clearly the epitome of capitalism! (I’m not making this up.)

It didn’t matter that classical liberalism and fascism are completely at odds, ideologically — that one is based on individualism and laissez-faire, while the other is based on national collectivism and economic corpratism — the Left just asserted that one led inexorably to the other, and we’ve been lumped together as rightwing extremists ever since.

I have no emotional attachment to the word extremist. I’m not trying to hold onto it the way I’m trying to hold on to the word liberal. I just don’t like it when people throw more mud into already muddy waters.

• See Rothbard on moderation.
• See BK on moderation.
• See BlackCrayon.com on centrism.

Postscript to anyone who says that this is “just semantics”: if you care about justice, if you care about meaning, then a just semantics is exactly what you care about.

PPS: If the leftwing scare-tactic smear term is “extremist” then the rightwing scare-tactic smear term is “radical”. They’re not equivalent terms, since radicalism is about perceiving both the problem and the solution as being at the “root” or foundation of the status quo, whereas extremism can designate any position, pro- or anti-radical, taken to the extreme. I am a radical extremist in the Rothbardian tradition, which is neither violent nor revolutionary. (Unfortunately, Murray Rothbard himself was responsible for some confusion on this point back in the 1960s.) Not all extremism is violent, just as not all radicalism is red.

"Criminals are never very amusing. It’s because they’re failures. Those who make real money aren’t counted as criminals. This is a class distinction, not an ethical problem."

– Orson Welles (1915–1985), Mr. Arkadin (1955)

Jeffrey Tucker writes:

The phrase "Merchants of Death" takes center stage in the movie Iron Man, which is a spectacular exposé of a subject that dominates the American economic landscape but about which Americans have very little knowledge. The phrase and the movie deal with the odd juxtaposition of capitalism and war as found in the weapons industry. Here we have innovations and efficiency of the type we associate with the private commercial sector but serving ends that are the very opposite of capitalism. The industry serves war, not peace, depends on coercion, not human volition, and profits from destruction, not creation.…

The existence of such an industry scandalized Americans in the interwar period, and there was one treatise that led the way in helping to foment the outrage. In fact, it was a bestselling book in 1934 with the title Merchants of Death. This book is not a typical left-wing style attacks on commerce as the essence of war. In fact, it argues the opposite:

“The arms industry did not create the war system.
On the contrary, the war system created the arms industry.”

FULL ARTICLE

I’m a big fan of highbrow Cliff Notes. For example, Kant’s famous metaphysical treatise is called
Critique of Pure Reason; I eventually had to read it for an upper-level course on Kant, but in 101, we read his much shorter Prolegomena to any Future Metaphysics, which was, our intro professor explained to us, Kant’s own summary presentation of his longer work.

These days, I’m reading H.G. Wells’s A Short History of the World, which is the summary version of his two-volume Outline of History.

In both cases, the author wrote his own summary. I couldn’t hope for an equivalent with the Bible — which I’ve started several times but never made it out of Genesis — so instead I’m reading and enjoying David Plotz’s “Blogging the Bible,” from Slate.com.

As they come up, I’m also keeping track of famous saying I didn’t realize were biblical in origin, some of which have been reworded in their popular form, such as, “Can the Cushite change his skin or the leopard his spots?” (Jeremiah 13:23). I guess the Bible isn’t very politically correct.

Here’s Plotz’s introductory comment to Jeremiah chapters 14–16:

Anyone who’s ever been in a bad relationship knows the Doctrine of Pre-Emptive Cruelty: Before you go through the torture of dumping a boyfriend, you act meaner than you feel toward him. (This usually goes on at an unconscious level.) Boyfriend understandably bristles and retaliates. This makes the actual leave-taking much easier. You get to lighten your own guilt by blaming the dumpee for being such a jerk.

This appears to be God’s strategy.

My father used to lament the lack of biblical literacy in my so-called education. For most of my life, I haven’t shared his regret. But that concept alone — the doctrine of preemptive cruelty (which yes, I suppose might be more Plotz’s than God’s) — would have been well worth knowing in my formative years. My teens and 20’s would have looked very different if I’d known it.

My father, who in one of his professional incarnations was a college English instructor specializing in Shakespeare, is currently reading Conn Iggulden’s Emperor series, historical fiction based on the life of Julius Caesar. He’s also watching the HBO/BBC series Rome, at our enthusiastic recommendation.

He wrote me today about the complexities of emotionally allying with different "sides" in historical struggles, and how much our allegiance is affected by already knowing the winners and losers.

I replied with a very different perspective on what affects the sides we take and whom we root for:

This is something I’ve been meaning to ask you about, and to research more generally.

Do you think of Shakespeare’s play as pro-Caesar? That’s certainly the impression I remember.

For most of my life, I’ve sensed from our culture an approval of Julius Caesar and a disapproval (or hatred) for Brutus. But the more history I learn, the less sense this makes. Or rather, the more Anglo-American republican history I learn, the greater is my sense that American admiration of Caesar is a 20th-century phenomenon.

The Lockean liberals in England, the American revolutionaries, and the founding fathers wrote and published under not just Roman names but Roman republican names — the names of the opponents of Caesar, the allies of Brutus. The once-upon-a-time-libertarian Cato Institute is named for the 18th-century "Cato’s Letters" whose English authors were taking the name of the Roman republican Cato. When the American Revolution was over and the debate was beginning for and against a centralizing constitution, the so-called anti-Federalists (the classical liberal/libertarian, decentralist, republicans) wrote under the names Cato and Brutus! (And despite the eventual victory of the Federalists, the mass of the population was on the side of the anti-Federalists.)

Eighty years later, John Wilkes Booth expressed his bafflement, after assassinating Lincoln, that he was so universally reviled when Brutus was so universally honored!

My current guess is that Shakespeare wrote a pro-Caesar play in an era of pro-monarchy, at least somewhat genuinely felt. But English and American republicans recognized that they were historically on the opposite side. In the 20th century (this theory would have it), Americans lost their classical educations and forgot their historical alliances. We knew we should admire Shakespeare, and Shakespeare seemed to admire the centralizers, therefore we abandon our decentralist history and alliances and all hail Caesar.

My father says that Shakespeare saw through Julius Caesar — but despised Brutus.

I’m still hoping someone can tell me about the evolution of Anglo-American attitudes toward Caesar and Brutus. How much of this story do I have right?