It looks like we’re going to be without running water for a few days. The line between the house and the well seems to be frozen, and we’re not the only ones. I called 6 different plumbers. Each one referred me to someone else. I’m waiting in line for the plumber to get here. The good news is that Melissa is smart. She’s got about 30 gallons of water in containers in the garage, and if I run out of those, it’ll be easy to get more.
In the meantime, I’ve been dipping into Montaigne. He tells this great story about Emperor Conrad III who “besieged” the Duke of Bavaria. Conrad’s ire was directed at the Duke and his men—not the women of the castle-- so he made a promise: the women could leave unharmed with whatever possessions they could carry on their backs. The women, being good lawyers and good comedians, shouldered their husbands and their children out of the castle, including the Duke. Conrad liked the gesture so much, that he let everyone--again, including the Duke, go free.
Here's how Montaigne puts it: “The emperor took such great pleasure in seeing the nobility of their minds that he wept for joy and quenched all the bitterness of that mortal deadly hatred that he had harbored against the Duke.”
That story couldn’t possibly be true, right? It’s too much of a situation comedy. I’d have Fran Drescher haul Charles Shaughnessy on her shoulders, stumbling over the drawbridge of the castle.
But wouldn’t it be nice if it were true? If some sharp wit found a loophole and knew how to exploit it? It’s a story of the lawyer’s comedic imagination. Do you think every loophole is shaped like a joke, with its set-up, its timing, its laugh line? That doesn’t mean that every loophole is funny, but I bet for every loophole, there’s a lawyer who thinks it is.
Conrad III’s story is one in a series of anecdotes in Montaigne’s essay about how the vanquished can sue the vanquisher for mercy—either through “pity,” he says, or “bravery and steadfastness.” (In Montaigne’s essay, the duke’s women were presented as examples of bravery and steadfastness.) To Montaigne, pity is the weaker response.
“[T]o yield to pity is an effect of affability, gentleness—and softness (that is why weaker natures such as those of women, children and the common-people are more subject to them.)
Today’s right wing agrees with Montaigne. They see “affability” and “gentleness” as soft, and associate those qualities with women, children and “common people.” Heather Cox Richardson often points out that these values permeated the aristocratic, slave south in the US. Nobility, honor, intelligence were all thought of as characteristics of an elite, wealthy class. In this view, all the social innovations of the 19th, 20th and 21stCenturies—civil rights, gender equality, minimum wages, public schools--even public health—anything that grants agency and intelligence to the “common people” is weak.
Elon Musk sees his own brilliance, and chaffs at the lessor beings who might question or regulate that brilliance. If Elon Musk had been Emperor Conrad III, would he have let the Duke live, riding to his freedom on Fran Drescher’s back.? Musk doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would respond to pity. Maybe he would respond to a good joke, unless the joke was at his expense.
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On February 14, 1805, George Droullard, Robert Frazier, Silas Goodrich and John Newman traveled 20 miles from their fort in North Dakota to retrieve the meat that Captain William Clark and his hunting party killed the day before. They had three horses, a sleigh, knives and a tomahawk. I’m sure they all had guns, but one of the guns was broken.
If the group of men were walking on ice, it was rough with sharp edges that cut and blistered their feet through their soft leather shoes. If they were walking in snow, it might have been knee-deep.
What happened next happened quickly. One hundred warriors appeared as if from out of nowhere. I think they were of the Teton Sioux, but I’m not sure. They overwhelmed the four men, took their horses, some knives and a tomahawk. Did the four men play it smart and hold still? Or did they make a move for their weapons? Did they shout their curses, or did they mutter them under their breath? There’s so much we don’t know including whether or not or how much the following is true:
On the Sioux side, apparently there was some disagreement about what to do with these men. Killing them would have been easy. It might have even been sensible. From their point of view, Lewis and Clark were building alliances with their competitors for trade. But someone in their party convinced the rest of the group to let the men live. They even let them keep one of their 3 horses. But what’s interesting is that they took the time to discuss it. There didn’t seem to be a chain of command. It seems as if it was a military operation with a democratic structure.
(Stephen Ambrose doesn’t mention the incident in Undaunted Courage-- maybe because the story doesn’t fit into the Ambrose narrative, which is that the expedition was an expedition of peace. Clark’s response to this incident was anything but peaceful. In fact, he expressed frustration that he had a hard time convincing his Mandan allies to go on a counter raid. But that’s another story.)
If Montaigne had been alive, would he have found a place for this story in his essay? It is a story of the besieger making the decision to either spare or kill the besieged. But Montaigne’s essay is about people of nobility making these decisions and passing them down a chain of command. Montaigne might not have recognized nobility in the Sioux. Montaigne told stories of Great Men making decisions alone, and other men following. I don’t know if he had room in his imagination for decisions that grew out of arguments and discussions among equals.
(By the way, I rode my bike through this area in my first cross-country trip back in 2018. I’m riding the Lewis and Clark route again this spring/summer, but I might decide to skip that area. Unless I change my mind, I’ll take the I-94 shortcut which will cut about 62 miles from the ride.) That would save some time for other adventures later on. But it’s beautiful there. Here’s a picture I took at the Cross Ranch campground, which isn’t too far away.)
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Superintendent Greg Poole is not, like Conrad III before him, holding his opponent’s life in balance. But his conflict with Darryl George is not trivial. It’s about values, it’s about agency, and it’s about respect. As the superintendent of the Mont Belvieu schools, Poole gets to decide how Darryl George wears his hair. Darryl wants to wear his hear in locs, because, for him, his hair gives him a spiritual connection to his history. The school district policy, as written, appears to be vague on the issue. It calls for hair to be above the ears and eyebrows. George’s hair, when tied up, meets that criterion. But Poole says the rule is about potential, not actuality. George is suspended from school until he cuts his hair.
The issue is important to Darryl George, and his mother. They have sued the district to reverse the decision. They feel it’s racist, in part because the policy does not appear to be enforced consistently. And they feel wearing his hair this way gives him a strong, spiritual connection to the past.
It’s also very important to Poole. He has paid for a full-page advertisement in the Houston Chronicle to state his position. It’s not clear from the Washington Post story if Poole paid for the ad with his own money. Here is what Poole says, as reported in the same Washington Post story:
“Being an American requires conformity with the positive benefit of unity,” wrote Greg Poole, the superintendent, in a Jan. 14 full-page advertisement in the Houston Chronicle, referencing dress codes at military academies as an example he said demonstrated the importance of rigorous standards.
Poole transforms “conformity”—a distinctly un-American value—into a virtue. He goes further: He says that military standards should be universalized, applied not just to necessary military training, but all training. It reminds me of Jean Jacques Rosseau’s passion for Sparta as the most natural of societies. Sparta was a militarized city-state. Military unity and discipline was totalizing. It crept into every aspect of life. Whereas in a democracy, the military’s role is to protect and support its citizenry. In Sparta, all aspects of life were meant to support its military. It’s sad and troubling that the superintendent of Bellvieu Schools couldn’t recognize the bravery and steadfastness in Daryl George’s position.
Once again, David, you’re right on point. (I think you always are!) outlawing locs is a freedom of speech issue. When we left Alaska in 2017 we moved to a state, intentionally, that has a solid basis in freedom of speech, right to reproductive freedoms, etc. New Mexico. We are on the slippery slope to fascism. And why can’t a kid express himself or herself with their hair?
Much food for thought here.