Sunday, September 12, 2021
Clay, Not Cornerstone
Sunday, August 22, 2021
What Else Was Supposed To Happen?
Tuesday, August 10, 2021
It's About More Than Being Nice
I realize that I have the tendency to get too worked up about things. I know it's not sensible for me to get mad at articles like these which compare the fall of the Roman Republic to the United States, especially when they're three years old. But the ideas presented here aren't limited to this article alone, so it's worth spending some time examining why they fall short and why we shouldn't be so eager to map the past completely unto our present, no matter how tempting it looks.
Part of why we should be careful about people telling us how well we mirror the past is that the story is never really about the past, it's always, with no exceptions, about the problems of our present. So it is with this article from the Smithsonian, which tells us, in all its studied breathlessness, that what doomed the Roman Republic was the instability brought about from violent rhetoric and the disruption of political norms. The article quotes from historian Edward Watts then new book, who says that Rome teaches "its modern descendants the incredible dangers that come along with condoning political obstruction and courting political violence... Roman history could not more clearly show that, when citizens look away as their leaders engage in these corrosive behaviors, their republic is in mortal danger.”
We'll come back to this idea of how the idea of a passive Roman citizenry is, but we need to sidetrack a little bit to call out the dangers of projecting our own image backward. The article quotes a 2005 book written by historian Cullen Murphy, who takes a more direct approach in comparing Rome and the United States. His argument is that Rome, after defeating Carthage in the Second Punic War, was in the same situation we found ourselves in after the end of World War II. Murphy says that we, like the Romans, found ourselves with "the world on our shoulders; and the implications of that responsibility have skewed things in every part of our society and economy, and put our old political (and other) structures under enormous strain." This wildly conflates the self-dealing fairy tales we've told ourselves in the post-war era with what the Romans got up to once they were the unrivaled power of their time. When Rome looked out at the world, they saw an opportunity for riches and wealth beyond anything they'd ever dreamed of, so they took it.
It's hard to put into words the scale of plundering the Romans did, but suffice to say when they showed up to your neck of the woods, they were leaving with everything valuable they could find. Gold, silver, fancy furniture, and, most especially, people. The Romans saw the world as their spoils and wasted no time taking whatever they could from who ever they wanted.
What's worse is that the article engages in some of the sloppiest history work I've ever seen. The author, Jason Daley, calls out how Rome's hegemony led to social upheavals like the introduction of secret ballots - which Daley argues led to politicians developing political brands to appeal to the masses - and Rome's move away from civilian conscription armies loyal to Rome to semi-private ones who were dependent on their generals for their pay. These conditions, Daley says, led to a political situation where "whipping up the resentments of the lower classes and threatening political enemies with semi-private armies became the norm."
Where the sloppy history work comes in is that Daley argues that these trends converged with the political career of Tiberius Gracchus in 134 B.C.The issue here is that the professionalization of Rome's armies, when the land owning requirement to be in the army was dropped, wouldn't happen until Gaius Marius became Counsel in 104 B.C., almost thirty years after Tiberius Gracchus died. Daley is right, sort of, that the flashpoint around Tiberius' actions as Tribune of the Plebs was the land reform bill, but Daley leaves out so much context that it's almost impossible to understand why it was such a big deal in the first place.
To start us off, we need a better understanding of how Roman society, specifically its armies, functioned. Rather than having a professional, standing army under the direct management of the state, the Roman army was drawn from levies of land owning citizens (they would also take conscripts from the other ethnic Italian communities, which Rome had, for the most part, already conquered). Each citizen would be responsible for providing their own weapons and armor, while the state would provide the food and other logistical support. Military service was required for Romans looking to get elected to the Senate or hold any sort of public office which, to the Romans, was incredibly important in their families prestige. This method of warfare worked really well when Rome fought traditional seasonal campaigns, but started to fall apart in the wake of the three Punic Wars.
The big reason why was there was no leave in the Roman army. Meaning, once you got called off to war, you stayed at war, no matter how long it took to finish. Men who left on campaign would leave their farms in the hands of their wives and children which works well enough if you're gone for a few months. But when these wars started lasting for years at a time, it wasn't uncommon for these farms to fall fallow, forcing the families to sell it off to other, richer families. Once all the wars were over, the soldiers who fought them came back to find their families destitute and homeless, their homes part of massive private estates called latifundium.
You may take this moment to ask yourself why couldn't these men couldn't just work their old land under its new owners and the answer to that is well, slaves. The rich who bought up all these failing farms staffed them with the slaves the soldiers brought back with them from their campaigns. So it's in this Rome, filled with conquering heroes with no roofs above their head, that Tiberius Gracchus introduces his land reform bill.
Officially known as the Lex Sempronia Agraria, Tiberius' land reform bill would parcel out land owned by the Roman state to the homeless and the poor so they could be self-sufficient. This bill sought to solve two problems, the first, obviously, was reducing the amount of homeless citizens. It's generally not a good idea to leave men who have spent years fighting for the state with nothing to do but get angry about all the things they no longer have because of the years they spent fighting. The second was that reducing the amount of land-owning citizens directly impacts Rome's ability to create an army. If the only eligible people to fight are landowners and you allow the amount of landowners to significantly decrease, then what you're doing is drastically reducing your martial capacity which, for a Republic suddenly needing to control exponentially more territory than it did before, is a recipe for disaster.
But the Senate did not like Tiberius' plan. Roman politics worked on elaborate client systems, run largely on personal reputations, family ties, and favors. If Tiberius' bill went through, he would have thousands of supporters dependent on his patronage who could be relied on to back his political agenda. Obviously, this could not be allowed. So the Senate did everything it could to stop him. Daley makes a big deal over Tiberius not asking for the Senate's permission to introduce his bill but the thing is, he didn't have to. As Tribune of the Plebs, he could introduce legislation in either the Senate or the Plebeian Assembly whenever he wanted to. It's true the Tribunes usually gave the Senate the heads up, but, given the open hostility to his bill in the Senate, Tiberius did the smart thing and just introduced it on his own terms.
Which brings us to the incident with Marcus Octavius. Octavius was the other Tribune of the Plebs, who the Senate paid to ensure that Tiberius' bill could not pass. So even though Tiberius had the votes, Octavius vetoed the bill. The most common story about what happened next is that Tiberius called for a vote to remove Octavius from office. When people voted to do so, he simply vetoed them as was is power as Tribune. When he wouldn't yield, Tiberius had Octavius physically removed from the Assembly, so the land reform bill could be introduced and passed 1without interference. Now, Tribune's in ancient Rome were sacrosanct, it was literally against the law to touch them. Tiberius went too far when he did this and his supporters got cold feet, so he resorted to basically shutting down the city by refusing to participate in any of his official duties until his bill was passed by the Assembly and the Senate.
Even then, this isn't what got him killed. When the Senate passed the bill, they gave the bare minimum of funds to the commission that was to split up the land so it couldn't function. What ended being the end of Tiberius was the death of King Attalus, ruler of the Greek kingdom of Pergamum. Attalus died without any heirs, so he left the entirety of his fortune, and the kingdom itself, to Rome. Seizing the opportunity to fund his commission, Tiberius claimed control of the money on the grounds that he was the representative of the people it was left to. Naturally, this pissed the Senate off something awful, since foreign affairs were exclusively their domain. In frustration, the Senate began spreading rumors around that Tiberius was out to make himself king. The tension around these rumors built to such a pitch that they are what ultimately led to Tiberius, along with 300 of his supporters, getting beaten to death in public by his political opponents.
Yet, you would never know those were the stakes just by reading Daley's article. He sweeps every bit of this under the rug, reducing it to "Tiberius went outside political procedures, which is just the worst thing he could do, then some other stuff happened and then he died."
To top off this ridiculous argument, Daley returns again to Watts, who he quotes with the following: "People who are politically engaged are not killing each other and they’re not threatening to kill each other. When they disagree with each other they use political means that were created by the republic for dealing with political conflict." The absurdity of this statement is almost mind-boggling. To classify the Roman citizens who beat an elected official to death at the behest of the political institution in Rome as not politically engaged is the kind of tap dancing routine you don't see outside of Fred Astaire movies. The whole point of all this violence was, and would remain, so the Senate could protect its privilege and powers in the wake of ever increasing demands from the citizenry below that they, too, be included in the benefits of Rome's burgeoning empire.
Harsh language didn't kill the Roman Republic. If anything, the zero-sum nature of Roman politics mixed with powerful interests refusal to compromise on anything that would infringe on their position led to a situation where the only possible way to enforce anything was through violence. The breaking of political norms are superficial, polite things to be upset about but, in Rome and currently, they are merely symptoms of much greater, much more threatening fractures in the political system. If you want to avoid the really bad stuff, like the civil wars that would plague Rome for close to 50 years, you have to deal with the underlying power imbalances that drive political systems to become so irrevocably broken.
There's a reason Daley leaves out all this context. Without it, he can reshape the complicated political situation of the late Roman Republic, which then allows him to recast the political stakes into whatever he wants them to be. This ultimately allows him to focus on the most meaningless aspect of the end of the Roman republic, that people stopped caring about the rules. No where does he stop to consider that there are bigger problems in society than whether politicians play nice with each other. Flouting norms without consequence is important because it tells you that people believe they are no longer obligated to follow them. The thing is though, and I can't stress this enough, the reasons why people don't feel that obligation are more important than the rules themselves. Trying to game out whether Tiberius is more responsible than the Senate for fracturing political norms misses the point that both of them felt they had the power to do so.
Like I said, I know I get too worked about things. Especially bad takes on history and what they tell us about the present. At the same time, how we view the past, and what went wrong in it, can't help but shape how we view what the problems of our world even are. If the best we can do is say that we should all be nice to each other and let everyone speak, we're doomed. If we can't learn enough about the past to question the important things in our society like who has power, what are they using it for, and how are they keeping it, then we'll just be stuck in these useless cycles until the world collapses around us while we're all standing around looking stupid with or mouths hanging open, wondering how any of this could have ever happened.
Wednesday, July 7, 2021
Saving Batman
Batman is one of the oldest, most popular superheroes we have. Eight different actors, either in live action or animated films, have portrayed him in theatrical releases over the last 32 years, along with a ridiculous amount of cartoons and video games during that same time period. Naturally, given all the exposure, the Caped Crusader has attracted a fair bit of controversy around him, even to the point where people question if he qualifies as a hero at all. So, along those lines, I want to go over how Batman came to his troubled reputation and how to fix it.
If we're talking about the problems with Batman, we have to talk about Frank Miller. A firebrand creator who cut his teeth with his original work Ronin and his run on Daredevil in the 80's, Miller, along with Alan Moore, brought new potential to comic book storytelling with his iconic work on the 1986 mini-series, The Dark Knight Returns. The comic is about an aged Bruce Wayne coming out of retirement to once again strike terror into the forever superstitious and cowardly criminal element of Gotham City. It's hard to understand now, but the impact of The Dark Knight Returns, and Moore's Watchman, would change comics forever. They ushered in a whole new era of comic books built around bdarker characters, "mature" story lines, and an overall aesthetic of intimidating grimness that would dominate comics in the 90's before the industry nearly collapsed into bankruptcy.
For Batman specifically, Miller introduced a character more interested in exacting his vengeance over the criminal underworld, a man who would go to any lengths to be the terror of anyone who did harm to real citizens. It doesn't sound all that different on paper, but the way Miller portrays criminals as inhuman scum protected by weak-willed liberals who care more for the monsters than the victims they leave in their marauding wake casts Batman as the strongman who rejects the weakness of society in order to lay down the absolute brutality of law and order. There's a lot of fascist undertones in The Dark Knight Rises, undertones Miller makes explicit in his later Batman works, The Dark Knight Strikes Again, and All-Star Batman. The crown jewel of this trend, however, was Holy Terror. Originally pitched as a Batman series, the plot boils down to a murderous Batman knock-off slaughtering Saturday morning cartoon versions of Islamic terrorists.
Even so, while Miller's work is influential, no one is more responsible for bringing "Batman is a fascist" to the mainstream than Christopher Nolan. In The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises especially, the Batman of Nolan's work is a rich dude using his vast resources to beat people to a pulp for justice instead of personal gain.
In his mission to destroy the mob, Batman kidnaps Lau, a Chinese national, from his home in Hong Kong, then delivers Lau to the police for prosecution. To defeat the Joker, he hacks into every cell phone in Gotham City to pin down the Joker's location.
Both of these would be highly recognizable in 2008 as the tactics of the War on Terror. Dragging the mob's account from Hong Kong back to the States is a pretty clear example of extraordinary rendition, while his hijacking of Gotham's cell network was a direct mirror of the NSA spying on all of our phone conversations and hacking into our emails. Lau's kidnapping is treated as the correct and necessary way to get around Lau's inconvenient legal rights, while the hacking is justified as a temporary, extraordinary measure to defeat an existential threat. The not so subtle implication being that as long as the threat exists well, civil rights are more like civil suggestions, really.
For The Dark Knight Rises, Nolan's plot involves Bane instigating a barely disguised Occupy Wall Street movement in order to throw Gotham into chaos as cover for his terrorist takeover of the city. Again, with characteristic subtly, the implications of the story are that popular uprisings from the lower classes are inherently criminal because they invert the natural order and are instigated by hostile outside forces looking to destroy their enemy from within. There's also the Dent, which allowed the city to deny parole to any criminal deemed to have acted as part of a larger criminal enterprise.
Both of these ideas, that mass uprising of the poor against the rich elite and that criminal elements deserve no rights or protections, are both elements of fascist thought which didn't go unnoticed at the time or since.
What then could be done to make Batman a more palatable hero, one that can credibly be considered as someone committed to his mission to end crime in e saxvery aspect of his life?
Put simply, to be a hero, Bruce Wayne cannot be a billionaire.
Now, Batman's wealth as always been a part of his character, which isn't all that unusual. The Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro are both dashing, clever, super combatants at night who hide their prowess by pretending to be cowardly playboys by day. Given the longevity of the character, it's natural that writers would need to scale up Batman's wealth in order to keep him in the upper echelon of society.
You could get away with making Bruce Wayne a billionaire back in the 80's and even well into the 90's because the idea of a multi-billionaire was so outrageous that it just blended into the fantasy of the world as a whole. Now that the real world is infested with billionaires however, the idea that Bruce Wayne can be a heroic figure with that level of obscene wealth is an illusion that can't be maintained.
The problem comes down to the fact that being a billionaire is a crime. Not a crime in the mundane "what you're doing is against the law" definition, but in the broader "your existence depends on inflicting massive amounts of harm on as many people as possible," kind of way.
Being a billionaire means you engage in wage theft, union busting, monopoly practices, stock manipulation, wage suppression, off shoring, and tax evasion, both of the straight up illegal variety as well its dressed up cousin tax avoidance, which is all the same tactics of tax evasion but legal because you bribed the government into rewriting the tax code to allow your shenanigans. Oh, right, you also need to inherit a fortune from your parents or borrow millions of dollars from them in start up cash.
Point is, billionaires are created not by their innovation, but by warping the political and economic systems of the world do that they reap every possible benefit while dumping as much of their losses on the public as possible. This parasitic social model leaves everyone not in the top 1% and above scrambling to maintain an increasingly expensive standard of living from an economy that doles out forever diminishing means to pay for it.
Given all that, it is almost impossible to take Batman seriously as a hero in the pursuit of justice while he ignores all the systemic abuses that allows his wealth to exist in the first place. If he's a multi-millionaire, he still can afford to do a lot of what he does already, but it won't trigger the feelings of off-panel exploitation like his billions do.
Another problem solved by knocking Bruce Wayne out of the billionaire's club is that it creates the space for him to be outgunned. The thing that makes a hero the most heroic is that they're at a disadvantage, they're always outnumbered, they're always up against stronger, better equipped enemies, or enemies who have the resources to buy protection from whatever government is around. When your main character is one of the richest men on the planet, these difficulties - and the tension they bring with them - aren't relevant anymore. So putting Batman in a position where he has to be a detective and figure out just how he's going to bring down the mob or corrupt business men he's after when he's completely outclassed is a good thing.
What's funny is that, when talking about overpowered superheros, the go to is always Superman. Sure, he's a flying brick, but underneath all that power is a kid from Kansas who just wants to do good in the world. He's powerful, yes, but in the mythic, modern day Heracles way. Batman, though, has power that translates too the world in very real, very material ways. We recognize his capabilities more viscerally because we live in the consequences of that power every single day.
There are no analogs of the good billionaire in the real world. All of them thrive on the predatory practices that built their wealth and all of them actively fight to protect their position.
If Batman stays a billionaire, he isn't a man on a doomed quest to save every child from the pain he experienced. There's a capital R Romantic element to that mission because it's about a men who is throwing everything he has against a world he ultimately cannot change.
But, if he's a billionaire, he can. Bruce Wayne could spend years divesting his fortune to make Gotham into the kind of place that doesn't need Batman. Hell, he could buy whatever politician he wanted to change the tax codes so that they could properly assess and collect on the tax bill generated by his wealth so that the government would have the resources to build the social programs they need to eliminate crime.
If Bruce Wayne is a billionaire, he actively decides not to do this. He chooses to maintain a social system that creates the poverty which gives birth to the crime levels he needs to justify his existence. This unspoken choice resonates through every action Batmam makes, turning him into the living embodiment of a system which beats people down into generations of the deprivation and desperation of poverty.
It's fitting that this controversy surrounds a fictional character more than any real life figure. We have to relate to Batman directly without the interference of a captured media culture terrified of angering their billionaire owners. Because of that, because we can see the immense, world changing power that wealth creates but ultimately, is only used to further one man's personal quirks, it crystallizes for us one simple, elegant truth: A man can be a hero, or a billionaire, but he can never be both.
Wednesday, June 30, 2021
The Pigeon Hole of Optimization
Saturday, March 13, 2021
These Aren't the Droids You're Looking For
Over the last two weeks, controversies about cancel culture have spread across Facebook and Twitter like a brain rotting fungus infecting every edgelord or cranky uncle it came across. The latest hysterics came after the Dr. Seuss Foundation announced it was pulling six books from publication because of racist drawings and then again when news broke that a scene with Pepe le Pew was cut from the new Space Jam movie.
There's a lot to unpack about why this is so ridiculous and why we're all the stupider for it, but, to clear things up, neither of these things are examples of anything getting cancelled. No one called for the Dr. Seuss books to get pulled from publication, it was something the company decided on their own because they don't want to be associated with images like these anymore.
It's important to note the real problem underlying the Dr. Seuss books isn't that the books were pulled, it's that they were pulled without a fight.
Even if you take the view that the books were for purely economic reasons- i. e., they did it to protect the brand - what that says is that the Dr. Seuss Foundation looked at their products, looked at the potential damage the controversy could do to their non-racist books, and decided that their better option would be to just recall the titles with those drawings. Even in this telling, which is nothing more than a stripped down cost-benefit analysis, the reactions of Asian and Black communities were deemed important enough that the mere potential of the financial harm they could leverage was enough to change their practices.
I'm not saying that's how it went down, just using it as an example that no matter how you look at this, this decision was made because the Foundation thought how their minority customers felt about their product, mattered. They thought it was important enough to do something about it without anyone pressuring them to do so.
What all those headlines about political correctness gone too far are saying is that people who weren't important in the past, are important now. It's amazing how much this simple recognition bothers people, like they can't stand living in a world were other people are important, too. That's all any of this is, all any of it ever is, just blind anger over the fact that minorities get to have a say in the world they live in.
As for the Pepe le Pew thing, his scene got deleted when Space Jam changed directors. This is what's called making a movie. If this upsets you, I congratulate you on living a life with no actual problems.
What annoys me most about all the outrage pieces over cancel culture is that they universally don't engage with why such a thing would exist in the first place. If they do, it's usually just complaining about how kids get so offended at everything these days. Which, yeah, if you look for people being stupidly upset over inoffensive things you're going to find them, obviously. Conveniently, the push to make this solely about overly sensitive millennials and Gen Z'ers let's people with actual power off the hook for making things this bad in the first place.
Consider the world since the start of the millennium. We had Bush II lie his way into starting a war, operate a global torture regime, launch an illegal spying program, with no consequences. Then, the global economy burns to the ground in the fallout of fraudulent trading and business practices from literally the entire financial sector. Then, the same banks get caught actively laundering money for the Sinaloa drug cartel, rigging interest rates, and stealing money from their customers. No one went to jail or was even arrested for any of this, naturally. That's not to say we were limited to white collar villainy. For more blue collar scumbags, we have the cops who killed Eric Garner, Michael Brown or Tamir Rice - for just a small sampling - who all walked away clean after killing unarmed civilians.
Then, Donald Trump happened. If there's any lesson from the Trump administration, is that people in power get away with whatever they want because other people in power choose not to stop them. Mitch McConnell could've pulled Trump's leash anytime he wanted by slowing down Trump's pet projects in the Senate until Trump behaved like a good little dog on camera, but that never happened. The Democrats could've decimated Trump's agenda by passing budgets that didn't allocate money for the wall, or the Space Force, or for any of the other ridiculous projects Trump undertook. But they didn't, because why would they? Sure, Trump himself is an asshole, but he's still President and this is still America. That Biden is continuing some of Trump's policies- like keeping the U.S. embassy in Jerusalem and supporting failed puppet Juan Guadio in Venezuela - show for the umpteenth time that Washington's problem with Trump was his personality, not his actions.
You can't expect people to look at the world, see all the open, unpunished corruption, and do nothing about it. Normal people can't arrest anyone, can't throw them out of office on a whim, but they can mobilize online to publicly shun or humiliate people off social networks. That's what cancel culture is, a response to offi cial failures to hold obvious criminals accountable so that someone, somehow suffers for the shitty things they've done.
Naturally, there are pitfalls to this. Mass public outrage doesn't leave room for nuance or a sense of scale; for example, when Kathy Griffin posted that picture holding Trump's decapitated head, all that called for was a "wow, that's a bit over-the-top and desperate," not the massive dog piling she ended up buried under.
It also acts as convenient cover for actual censorship, like when YouTube took down videos by independent news channel Staus Coup. The videos in question were coverage of the Capitol Riot, they weren't endorsing or advocating, just standard reporting. Corporations always move to co-opt the language of social movements to neuter their momentum, cancel culture gives them fertile ground to move against independent creators in the name of "protecting" the discourse from controversial elements.
Critics of cancel culture are right that it's not good to rely solely on mobilizing mass movements of angry people against new outrages of the week. That what's happening isn't so much accountability as it is the public devouring of randomly selected individuals and doesn't address the systemic issues that allowed the harm in the first place.
All of that is true, but to spend all the energy tsk tsking cancel culture as a sign of national decline seems more like a modern version of hating on hippies more than anything else. Cancel culture is the product of larger failures, not the cause of them.
The easiest way to end cancel culture is to tear down the failed institutions that spawned it. Sure, there will always be people railing against something or other but if we can get the world to a place where assholes get punished for their asshole shit as an everyday thing, then at least we'll get to choose how much we want to stick around to listen.
