living on the margin

fadingbulldozersI guess I live on several margins. We all do. All of life as we know it evolved on the margin of fire and ice, rock and vacuum, land and water, and on and on. When most people say "margin" today, they tend to mean the economic margin between survival and starvation, or the margin between socially acceptable and unacceptable.

But the margin I’m aware of living on this morning is the city-zoning margin between residential and industrial. (I also live on the residential margin between rich and poor, but that’s for another post.)

There are two main roads out of my neighborhood, uphill and downhill. One is lined with tended gardens, large front lawns (and, as I’ve learned from the satellite views of Google Maps, much, much larger backyards) and half-million-dollar houses. The other road descends to the riverside, where the construction companies and warehouses are still allowed to set up shop. Read more of this post

Anthony Gregory on Rand Paul’s historic filibuster

RandPaulFilibusterTVAnthony Gregory and I have never met in person, but we used to spend hours at a time with each other in IM, discussing libertarianism from almost every angle. He was often astonished by how little I knew about current events. We developed a shorthand for this preference (or flaw) of mine: “history, not news” — which meant that I was very interested in events once they were no longer current.

When I gave up my very heavy public-radio habit (as I said in my house-husbandry article for LRC, “I’ve discovered an inverse correlation between my economic literacy and my ability to tolerate NPR”), I developed an aversion to the news in general. Around the same time, I discovered an unexpected love of history.

So Anthony did this great video for the Independent Institute about Rand Paul’s heroic filibuster, and Read more of this post

Is there a stereotypical doctor in the house?

DrTigerI tweeted this today:

Just saw this. Librarian to Asian man: "Are you a doctor?" Man: "Yes." Librarian: "We have someone in the front suffering a cardiac arrest."

The man wasn’t wearing a stethoscope, a lab coat, or scrubs. If you had asked me to guess what he did for a living, I wouldn’t have been able to. He was sitting with his son in the children’s section at the back of the library, and they were reading together.

When he rushed off with the librarian to tend to the heart-attack victim, I saw his son, a concerned-looking Asian woman, and an Asian girl watch him go. I’m guessing the whole family had come to the library together.

Meanwhile, there was an announcement still being made over a loudspeaker:

"If there is a medical doctor in the library, please come immediately to the front desk!"

The announcement was repeated several times. Read more of this post

an Orwellian interpretation of Orwell

IngSoc, Reagan Bush '84

Despite being the 20th century’s greatest anti-socialist novelist, Orwell has found himself posthumously adopted by a wide variety of socialists.

His novels 1984 and Animal Farm, which attack English and Soviet socialism very directly, are taught instead as generic anti-"totalitarian" works.

As David Aaronovitch writes in BBC News Magazine,

[T]here has been a well-established and heartfelt desire on the more moderate left to claim that Orwell was indeed a genuine socialist whose warning was aimed at totalitarianism in general, not at the left per se.

I was reared and schooled by the kinds of leftists who embraced Orwell and taught me that 1984 was about totalitarianism in general, not socialism per se. I even thought of the book as an attack on the Reagan administration, and argued with my (neo)conservative girlfriend about it in high school. A few years later, I was very embarrassed by my easy acceptance of the interpretation I had been taught.

(h/t Wendy McElroy)

(Crossposted at InvisibleOrder.com.)

censorship schmensorship

The worst part of censorship is —Is censorship illiberal?

As with so many simply worded questions, the answer depends on how we define our terms. I don’t say that as a dodge. I don’t consider this issue "merely semantic." I just notice with some annoyance that many people use the same term to mean different things where the difference in meaning is critically important.

For libertarians, censorship is wrong when it is a coercive authority suppressing communication (assuming that communication itself is non-coercive and non-fraudulent).

For many of us, that’s the primary meaning of the term: a government power used to suppress peaceful communication.

But for many others, who seem to oppose censorship "in all its forms," censorship includes plenty of peaceful private decisions that individuals and groups make about their own private property.

When I was in high school, my girlfriend was one of the editors of the school’s literary magazine. She and the other editors rejected a submission that was explicitly sexual and full of "dirty" words. The school newspaper sent a reporter to talk to her about censorship in the literary magazine. She tried to explain that lower- and middle-school students read the magazine, that it was an official representation of the school, that they didn’t take a black marker and cross out the offensive parts. They just didn’t feel the piece was appropriate for their magazine.

When she told me about the interview, I said, "You might have also mentioned that it’s not censorship. It’s called an editorial decision. The magazine never promised to accept all submissions."

krazykatbeforeandafterShe replied, "Darn! Why didn’t I say that?"

Well, she didn’t say it, because censorship is one of those words used largely for its emotional effect.

Semantic precision is often at odds with people’s agendas, so they usurp the connotation of one (often precise) meaning of a term and apply it to a much vaguer (arguably inaccurate) use of the term.

If you have your own blog and you moderate comments, you’ve probably experienced this: someone posts a comment that is irrelevant or incoherent or a string of vulgarities posing as an argument; you reject it; their next comment accuses you of censorship. I’ve even been accused of censorship for the mere fact that my blog is moderated. The fact that the commenter doesn’t see his words appear instantly under my post establishes me as a hypocrite: a libertarian who censors his opposition.

If you’re not constantly on guard for that sort of semantic manipulation, it’s pretty easy to let it slip by. But once you’ve accepted the manipulative terminology, you’ve lost half the battle.

Am I saying it’s dishonest to use emotionally loaded language? There are plenty of people who do take that position, claiming that only neutral language and examples are intellectually honest. But I make the opposite point in my blog post of many years ago "Will the real fascists please stand up?" and a year later in my LRC article "In Defense of Referencing Hitler." I don’t think the "neutrality" of language is a worthy goal. I think precision is the honest goal. Neutrality can just be another form of manipulation, as my comrade and Invisible Order colleague Mike Reid illustrates in his great article "The Voice of Tyranny: A Libertarian Look at the Passive Voice."

My rant today is brought to you by the Wikipedia article "Life, the Universe and Everything," and its very silly section on "Censorship." (I should warn you that there are some off-color words in the following passage. I left them intact. I wouldn’t want to be accused of censorship.)

This book is the only one in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series to have been censored in its U.S. edition.The word "asshole" is replaced with the word "kneebiter", and the word "shit" is replaced with "swut". Possibly the most famous example of censorship is in Chapter 22 and 23, which in the U.K. edition mentions that a Rory was an award for the Most Gratuitous Use of the Word ‘Fuck’ in a Serious Screenplay. In the U.S. edition, this was changed to "Belgium" and the text from the original radio series describing "Belgium" as the most offensive word in the galaxy is reused.

I leave as an exercise for the reader a comparison of the preceding passage with my high-school newspaper’s treatment of the editorial staff of the school’s literary magazine.

medieval weather

Snow20121229I remember blizzards in Manhattan in the 1970s, when several feet of snow would bring the city to a standstill. For the first day after the storm, you could see sleds and cross-country skiers in the middle of the streets, no cars in sight — except for their outlines under the snow.

The city recovered quickly, but I enjoyed that sense of being out of time, of life (and especially school!) being suspended. This comes back to me as I read James Burke’s The Day the Universe Changed, in which he describes how life reshaped itself as Europe left the Middle Ages:

Without calendars and clocks or written records, the passage of time was marked by memorable events. In villages it was, of course, identified by seasonal activity: “When the woodcock fly,” “At harvest time,” and so on. Country people were intensely aware of the passage of the year. But between these seasonal cues, time, in the modern sense, did not exist.

Not only did the weather determine our awareness of time; it determined almost everything about our lives:

Throughout the entire history of man until 1720, the number of people alive at any time in any society was ultimately dictated by the weather. In good weather and full harvest, people ate more and were healthier. They produced more children, because they expected them to be able to survive in the clement temperature. When the population became too big for the land to support, either more land was cleared and planted, or the food supply became marginal. Whichever was the case, the next time the weather turned bad, the fall in crop levels would cause widespread famine and death. In turn the succeeding generation married later and had fewer children, so there were fewer mouths to feed. Fewer people would work the land and output would fall again, until the return of good weather.

The Day the Universe ChangedBy the 20th century, the weather had become a circumstance within our lives instead of the overwhelming factor determining them:

Above all, our lives are no longer totally controlled by nature. In general we do not suffer the cycle of feast and famine brought by the vagaries of the seasons. We control nature, with power far beyond what it can muster against us.

But in the Catskill Mountains, at the close of 2012, I’m feeling much less in control of nature, despite the heat and electricity and hot and cold running water. I’ve made two trips down and back up the mountain recently, first to get my mother-in-law from the airport and then, a week later, to return her there so she can fly to France. She had scheduled her flights well in advance so that our timing would allow me to drive back up the mountain before dark. Just before she arrived, it had rained so much in the Catskills that the creeks and rivers were overflowing. As I drove down the mountain road to get her from the airport, there were waterfalls where there’s usually only rock face. Some of the waterfalls were pouring down onto the only road, a curvy cliff-side route that I’m cautious driving on under the best of circumstances. (As I approached the Albany airport, the clouds parted, and I saw, over the runway, the largest, brightest, most vivid rainbow I’ve ever seen.)

The worst of Hurricane Sandy passed us by, but we know fellow homeschoolers who were without power for weeks. They seemed to take it in stride. This aspect of the rural mindset is still alien to me. Without power, how do you charge your Kindle?

With Christmas over, it’s time for us to return to (slightly) warmer climes, but now winter storm "Freyr" is laughing at our arrogance in thinking we get to plan the timing of our comings and goings. I’m happy that all my gadgets are working, but I do feel a bit like the weather’s plaything.

“The heart of another is a dark forest, always…”

Willa CatherForgive me for spoiling this week’s “puzzler” from Dr. Mardy:

THIS WEEK’S PUZZLER:

On December 7, 1873, this woman was born in Gore, Virginia. At age nine, she moved with her family to Nebraska. Her life on the frontier inspired many later novels, including her famous “Prairie Trilogy,” which included “O Pioneers” (1913), “The Song of the Lark” (1915), and “My Antonia” (1918). One of America’s most respected female writers, she won a Pulitzer Prize in 1922. In 1930, shortly after Sinclair Lewis was selected for the Nobel Prize, he said that he would have been pleased if she had been chosen for the award instead of him. In “The Professor’s House” (1925), she had a character say:

“The heart of another is a dark forest, always,
no matter how close it has been to one’s own.”

Who was this famous writer?

This week’s puzzler has me remembering fondly the release of Paul Cantor and Stephen Cox’s book Literature and the Economics of Liberty: Spontaneous Order in Culture, which is where I first heard of Willa Cather. I postponed reading the chapter called “Willa Cather’s Capitalism” until I had read her novel O Pioneers!, which I loved. It’s the only Willa Cather I’ve read so far. I hope to rectify that.

Literature and the Economics of Liberty: Spontaneous Order in CultureHere’s Stephen Cox’s introduction to Willa Cather:

“Economics and art are strangers.”

So said Willa Cather in an essay written deep in her last period of authorship.

For once in her life, Cather was wrong — though she was wrong for sufficient reason. Leftist critics had been hounding her about her novels’ alleged lack of relevance to current industrial and social problems. She responded by arguing that art must not be reduced to such partial and temporary terms. If this is “economics,” she suggested, then art should have nothing to do with it.

But “economics” need not be treated merely as a solvent for other modes of human experience. If one adopts a nonreductive view, the falsehood of Cather’s declaration about the estrangement of economics and art becomes obvious. Her own art was economic in every useful sense of the term. It was economic in its practical concern with buying and selling, prices and investments. It was economic in its analysis of the framework of institutions that supports the capitalist or market system. Finally and most importantly it was economic in its application of certain essential principles of choice and valuation that are crucial to an understanding of the capitalist system but that long remained obscure even to professional economists. Cather, a mere novelist, discovered them through her art.

Read more.

synchronicity, creepy puppets, and ancient conceptions of the afterlife

AnubisI started watching a documentary about ventriloquism over the weekend. This is not a topic that often comes up. Then last night, we were watching a 2nd-season episode of Dollhouse and there was some mention of ventriloquism. Even just that much already felt like synchronicity. Then this morning, I discover in my email inbox that wordsmith.org‘s word of the day is — wait for it — ventriloquism.

What feels even more dominant as a new theme is Ancient Egypt. Our family book right now is Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos, which, despite being in the middle of it, I can’t recommend highly enough. I wish I’d read books like this when I was a kid (or had such books read to me, since I didn’t really read until I was a teenager).

Just in time for my family’s new obsession, the British Museum is holding an exhibition on the The Book of the Dead:

Among all the varied ideas contained in The Book of the Dead manuscripts there is no sense anywhere that the scribes were setting down history for posterity. Neither is there, Taylor says, any striving for objectivity in the way sentiments are expressed. Instead, the papyri are a practical piece of political and spiritual spinning, a means to an end delivered at an agreed price.

And yet because these papyri deal with fear and death and hope, they cannot help but provide an immensely absorbing window into the minds and emotions of an ancient society. Their images and hieroglyphs, known to every schoolchild, have now become the emblem of all that is mysterious to us about this remote culture. Yet the study of the complex transformation the ancient Egyptians hoped they would undergo in death is oddly humanising. In their imaginative scheme to defeat mortality and to be reunited with lost members of their family, they are somehow almost recognisable.

"Book of the Dead: Scroll down and learn how to die like an Ancient Egyptian," guardian.co.uk

beginning homeschooling

A comrade wrote me this note:

I wanted to ask you about homeschooling. I am very interested in it, though Benjamin is not even 18 months yet. Any pointers or comments to think about?

(Yes, we both have sons named Benjamin.)

He then asked if he could share my reply with a libertarian mailing list he’s on, and I said yes, so I figure I might as well share it here, too:

I started researching homeschooling before our Benjamin was even born, so I don’t think 18 months is too young. Here’s a book I very much recommend well before you look into formal homeschooling:

The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease
http://www.amazon.com/Read-Aloud-Handbook-Sixth-Jim-Trelease/dp/0143037390
http://www.trelease-on-reading.com/

It’s addressed to teachers and policy people as well as to parents. I just skipped the political BS. I didn’t even care about the specific reading lists. And yet I consider it one of the most important books I’ve read.

We belong to a big mailing list of area homeschoolers. I hope you can find one in your area, because it’s very helpful. Topics range from government paperwork to curricula to local classes to playgroups and other social opportunities for homeschoolers.

For homeschooling specifically, I think the first thing to do is to become familiar with the different approaches. Most of the homeschoolers I know are secular and most of the secular homeschoolers I know are unschoolers. I don’t know what to recommend to introduce you to unschooling. It’s not the route we’re taking.

We’re more inclined to the classical homeschooling and the Trivium:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trivium_%28education%29
http://web.archive.org/web/20040415041359/http://redeemerclassical.org/lost_tools.php

Specifically, we’re pursuing the approach to the Trivium given in  the book The Well-Trained Mind:

http://www.amazon.com/Well-Trained-Mind-Guide-Classical-Education/dp/0393067084
http://www.welltrainedmind.com/

The Well-Trained Mind was written by a mother and daughter. The mother homeschooled the daughter and now the daughter homeschools her kids.

We’re also using the mother’s phonics book:

http://www.amazon.com/Ordinary-Parents-Guide-Teaching-Reading/dp/0972860312

We’re not yet at the stage to assess her language-arts book:

http://www.amazon.com/First-Language-Lessons-Well-Trained-Mind/dp/0971412979

For early mathematics, we’re using Right Start Math, recommended by The Well-Trained Mind:

http://www.alabacus.com/pageView.cfm?pageID=284

Having said all that, I still recommend you become familiar with Art Robinson’s approach:

http://www.robinsoncurriculum.com/

You’ve probably read Gary North’s recommendations of the Robinson Curriculum.

Our goal is eventually to integrate the structure of the Well-Trained Mind with the self-teaching method of the Robinson Curriculum.

I’ll copy my wife on this to see if she has anything to add.

Good luck.

learning as a hobby

It’s worth reading all of this very short post at BarbaraFrankOnline about hiring online tutors in India, but I wanted to excerpt this one parenthetical comment:

Many parents lack confidence in teaching their children math beyond a basic level. I don’t know why this is, since you relearn everything along with the child (at least that’s been my experience.)

I think this all the time when people say, "I don’t think I know enough to homeschool my kids." And yes, I hear that surprisingly often. 

There’s plenty I don’t know, but I assume I have at least the same capacity to learn the subject as my 4-year-old son has. In fact, that’s a big part of the attraction of homeschooling.

In the waiting room outside Benjamin’s karate class this afternoon, I started reading the beginning of the first RightStart Math manual, which the missus is teaching the boy right now. It was fascinating.

Math was always my worst subject. Now is my opportunity to start over.

I realized when Benjamin was still inside his pregnant mama that I didn’t know nearly enough history. I’ve been reading mostly history books (and listening to history audiobooks and lectures) for the past 4 years. Now I’m a born-again history buff, an ardent convert (as this blog surely reflects).

Homeschooling is a perfect choice for the autodidact. And one of my goals is to give Benjamin the education I wish I had had.

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