Tuesday, March 10, 2009

What is Wrong?

Let us propose, for the purposes of facilitating communication, that each action we wish to examine has a theoretical and quantifiable rating of “goodness” associated with it. We’ll call this number a utility rating.

This rating would be determined by the following formula: Utility Rating = (Good) + (Bad), where beneficial consequences are factored in as positives, and harmful consequences are factored in as negatives. Perhaps we should look to a relatively simple example to help demonstrate the use of our formula. We will evaluate the utility rating of Alex killing Ian for his lunch one day during school.

























Consequence



Value of Consequence



Positives:



Alex would no longer be hungry


Ian’s parents would no longer have to pay for college


There would be more space in Ian’s house



+10


+30


+5



Negatives:



Alex would be ostracized from society


Ian would cease to live


Sean would be upset


Ian’s mother would be upset


(We could go on
to list the effects on all items in the universe, but hopefully you get the
picture)



-50


-70


-20


-20


(Several more numbers as the list goes on)



Overall Utility Rating:





STRONGLY NEGATIVE!!!!






In a somewhat cruder manner, our mind goes through a similar process any time we try to evaluate the goodness of an action. In the matter of seconds it takes for us to make a judgment as to the morality of an action, we cannot possibly consider every single ramification of an action (such as, “There would be more space in Ian’s house if he were dead”). Instead, we tend to focus only on the larger ramifications of our actions when judging morality. Of course, this whole discussion begs the question of who is to say what is right and what is wrong.

The Personal
(Subjective) Versus The Universal (Objective)

Each human being has different experiences and is physically a different person from one another. These two factors cause each person to have different personal moralities. Take any two people from around the world, and they can argue for hours over what is right and wrong. It only follows that human morality is subjective and unreliable.

Still, human morality attempts to emulate what we will refer to as a universal morality. Universal morality is the theoretical summation of every consequence of an action. There’s no way for any human being to know every single consequence of an action, so no human being can possibly perceive or understand the true, universal morality of an action.

Aside from being incomplete, judgments based on personal moralities are arrived upon through bias. When Alex attempts to determine just how wrong it would be to kill Ian for his lunch one day, he might overstate the magnitude of the positive consequence of his not being hungry, and understate all negative consequences that do not directly affect him. Such is the subjective nature of personal morality.

The Societal
Morality: A More Viable Alternative

We study the theoretical ideal of universal morality because it is what we hope to achieve through our society and the society’s laws. Although personal morality is calculated in a similar fashion to universal morality, personal morality is incomplete and biased for each person.

A third option is societal morality, one of the building blocks of democratic government. This mechanism defaults to the will of the majority to determine what is right and what is wrong, and thus what is legal and what is illegal, or what is socially acceptable and what is frowned upon. By allowing morality to be determined by the will of the majority, rather than by one person’s own moral judgment, we introduce many competing interests. In theory, many individual conflicting biases should cancel each other out to make the societal morality even closer to the theoretical universal morality than the average personal morality would be.

Beyond the Human Perspective

By abandoning personal interests and collectively creating societal laws, we have supposedly taken a step towards objective right and wrong. However, these laws are built around humans, not around the innumerable creatures that inhabit our earth and the universe. For any code to be universal, its laws must affect all beings, not just those that we know can think. This makes objective morality an even more abstract idea, because it is hard to imagine that a single code of law affects humans as it does the little bugs that get caught in our swimming pools. The process of creating laws for a society is not necessarily getting closer to true objective morality, but closer to a human morality. Our laws may not be correct, but they are good at illustrating how morality becomes more objective when we remove single parties. Societal laws remove the individual from the equation; universal, objective laws remove the human from the equation.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

My life for the past four days.


From the same people who brought you the Hastings-Kimball Ultimate Smashup (aka Humanities) comes an event you CAN'T miss...


An entry by...

Emily Alice Geller, MD, ScD, DDM, DDS, scientist extraordinaire

and

Alexander "the Great" Maxwell Bell, PhD, EdD, ThD, artist extraordinaire



A Contrasting Analysis of:
The History of Herodotus, Book VIII, and
The History of the Peloponnesian War, Book VI


The Greeks, unlike the Egyptians or the Hebrews, had no unifying force. Greece was not a nation in the way it is today; rather, it was a collection of city-states, or poleis, that shared a similar culture. The Hebrews, for instance, had a shared heritage related to the Hebrew Bible and the concept of a higher power that united their people. The loosely connected Greek city-states did not have such a central force and because of this the Greeks were not encouraged to record national events. It took times of turmoil, which lead to unification, to spark historical research. The Persian War and Peloponnesian War provoked Herodotus and Thucydides to investigate and record these times of unrest, through varying motives and literary styles. Herodotus states his intention “is to prevent the traces of human events from being erased by time, and to preserve the fame of the important and remarkable achievements produced by both Greeks and non-Greeks; among the matters covered is, in particular, the cause of the hostilities between Greeks and non-Greeks” (Herodotus). Thucydides, meanwhile, explains his motive in his opening sentences: “Thucydides, an Athenian, wrote the history of the war between the Peloponnesians and the Athenians, beginning at the moment that it broke out, and believing that it would be a great war, and more worthy of relation than any that had precede it” (Thucydides).

The differences between the writing styles of Herodotus and Thucydides are evident from the two excerpts of their intentions. Thucydides is detail-oriented, while Herodotus is concerned with conveying a story, similar to how Plutarch’s intention in Alexander was “not to write histories, but lives” (Plutarch). Thucydides’ strictly factual writings contrast with Herodotus’ flourishes of literary devices to enhance his stories. Although both writers utilized complex arguments and grammar, the tones of their writings differ greatly. Herodotus is a raconteur, who embellishes the events. This can been seen though Herodotus’ anecdotal or seemingly unnecessary examples, like a comment about Xerxes’ knowing the treasures of the Delphian temple: “For Xerxes, as I am informed, was better acquainted with what there was worthy of note at Delphi, than even with what he had left in his own house (Herodotus).” Thucydides, however, is less extravagant in his description and seems to reveal only what is necessary. Many of his paragraphs end with simple sentences that notify the reader of an event; for example, “Phaeax meanwhile proceeded on his voyage, and at length arrived at Athens,” or, “Meanwhile the Lacedaemonians made the Parrhasians independent, razed the fortress, and returned home” (Thucydides). Thucydides could have described those events more specifically, but only essential facts were needed to move the text along.

Although Herodotus and Thucydides both were Greeks, the two writers’ different time periods greatly influenced their worldviews. Their worldviews were molded not only by their time periods, but also by their occupations, interests, classes, and regions, all of which undoubtedly affected their work. When Herodotus was writing, Athens was at its apex; full of vigor and culture, the city had just celebrated its victory over the Persians. This inflated Athenian and Greek vision influenced the tone of Herodotus' writing. Although generally unbiased, it does portray Greece in a more triumphant manner. Originally, his writings were meant to capture the Persian War, but they extended to topics of other cultures. Herodotus was fascinated with foreign nations and their cultures, traveling throughout most of the Mediterranean and Asia Minor. Despite this respect and interest for other nations, Herodotus still suggests that the Greeks were victorious because of their cultural and moral superiority over their adversaries. In Herodotus’ story, even the Persian emperor recognizes the Greeks’ integrity and exclaims after hearing that the prize of the Olympic games was only an olive wreath, "Good heavens! Mardonius, what manner of men are these against whom thou hast brought us to fight?—men who contend with one another, not for money, but for honour!" (Herodotus). The concept of fighting for honor is continued throughout the chapter as a motivator for city-states to support or to continue the Greek cause.

Although the idea of honor is equally great in Thucydides’ text, it is not the central motivator. Thucydides is a military man, as compared to the roaming scholar and raconteur Herodotus, who served as a general for Athens. Most importantly, however, Thucydides was alive during the internal strife and chaos of the Peloponnesian War, where city-states were in a constant struggle of war, tension, and changing allies. Thucydides’ writing exposes the reality of the waning power of the formerly great city-sates like Athens, and their attempt to regain power by any means possible. Although both are war stories, the writing on the Peloponnesian War is darker because it ends with disgrace and is without the honor and the united front of the Persian War. Herodotus notes how it was advantageous that the Greeks banded together for the Persian war because “internal strife is a thing as much worse than war carried on by a united people, as war itself is worse than peace” (Herodotus). The Persian War, though bloody and horrible, was not as tragic as the Peloponnesian War, in which old allies and friends were forced to cross one another. Therefore, in writing his text, Thucydides is honest of the disastrous state of Greece. He remarks “I have written my work, not as an essay to win the applause of the moment, but as a possession for all time” (Thucydides). This possession describes the manner in which Greece and its individual city-states lost their greatness. The apex and prosperity that Herodotus felt and wrote about would never return to Greece after the self-destructiveness of the Peloponnesian War.

In reasoning and context, the two writers also differ. Herodotus is more prone to place the cause of an action on an individual's emotions or involvement, while Thucydides included a wider political spectrum in his explanation of the events. Thucydides is often accredited with the creation of political science. Because of Herodotus’ extensive travels and experiences, he is concerned with a range of cultural and social aspects of Greeks and non-Greeks. Herodotus is known as the "father of histories” but also the “father of lies," as the validity of his stories is not completely certain. He often combined several stories and points of view in order to a gain a holistic story; but sometimes his information was inaccurate. In that case, he usually expresses his uncertainty on the validity of the topic but still presents what was known or believed at his time. He often refers to myths associated with the events. For instance, the Delphians under threat of the Persians were saved by supernatural forces and “declared (as I am told) that besides the marvels mentioned above, they witnessed also other supernatural sights. Two armed warriors, they said, of a stature more than human, pursued after their flying ranks, pressing them close and slaying them” (Herodotus). Herodotus uses myths or events such as those because they were associated with their time period; however, he often provides a realistic explanation for myths or at least shows skepticism. In his time, gods and goddess were still very much essential to the culture and beliefs of the Greeks. In comparison, Thucydides’ lifetime also shows the waning importance of the traditional gods as the era gets closer to Hellenistic times, where mythological religion was more of a culture than a belief.

Most dramatically, Thucydides’ and Herodotus’ writings are the results of the worldviews that the writers possessed based on their personal experiences and the events of their lifetimes. Herodotus, the cultured traveler, wrote more in the tradition of an epic to describe both parties of the war and the ultimate victory of the united Greeks. Thucydides, the former general, wrote in a new and analytical political style that directly told the tragedy of events that led to the fall of the once-glorious Greeks.

Pericles' Funeral Oration
and Contemporary Society



In Greek funerary tradition for soldiers, a politician was chosen speak, as described: “After the bodies have been laid in the earth, a man chosen by the state, of approved wisdom and eminent reputation, pronounces over them an appropriate panegyric; after which all retire” (Thucydides). Pericles, the son of Xanthippus, was chosen to give such a speech after the first battles of the Peloponnesian war. However, Pericles’ speech was more than the formality of a funerary tradition, but an impassioned discussion of the righteous characteristics of the Athenian identity.

The Funeral Oration exemplifies much of the fiber of character that Thucydides felt had been lost in the fall of Athens. In a sense, the oration can be viewed as not only for the loss of the soldiers but also for the future loss of Athens. According to tradition and law, Pericles must deliver a speech, but he acknowledges to the crowd the difficulty of the subject. Praise of the men’s bravery in death is required and deserved but it must not be done in excess because, as he explains, “men can endure to hear others praised only so long as they can severally persuade themselves of their own ability to equal the actions recounted: when this point is passed, envy comes in and with it incredulity” (Thucydides). Taking into account the sensitivity with which one must approach such a speech, Pericles decided not only to praise those who died, but also to praise the state and the people for whom they died. Rather than go into detail on Athens’ past accomplishments and conquests, he chose to dwell on “the form of government under which our greatness grew” (Thucydides). The form of government that allowed Athens to flourish was democracy, which was based on the power of the many rather than the power of the few. Under such a system, the laws “afford equal justice to all in their private difference” (Thucydides). In trade, military, and education, Athens was prosperous because of its equal and open system that encouraged thought and interaction within and outside the city. Pericles remarks, “[…] at Athens we live exactly as we please, and yet are just as ready to encounter every legitimate danger” (Thucydides). The openness for some could be a vulnerability, but for Athens it was an asset. People knew of Athens’ power and were not quick to defy it, especially without the backings of other nations, while Athenians “advance unsupported into the territory of a neighbor” (Thucydides). Pericles continues to commend Athens because of its ability to balance taste, knowledge, and wealth, so that it does not reach extravagance. In addition to balance, Pericles also touches upon a pivotal aspect of Greek thought, that of reason and discussion: “instead of looking on discussion as a stumbling-block in the way of action, we think it an indispensable preliminary to any wise action at all” (Thucydides). Pericles further enhances the power of Athens by explaining how Athens is “the school of Hellas” (Thucydides). Its greatness is not unknown nor is it unproven to the world. It is not arrogance or exaggeration for the occasion but rather a truth of Athens’ current and future dominance. Pericles’ assertion for the future turned false as Athens later fell, but at Athens’ apex such a projection seemed highly plausible. For this Athens described by Pericles, the men who perished had fought. From here, Pericles calls upon the living to “be ready to suffer in her cause” like those they were commemorating (Thucydides). Pericles’ next section attributes the character of the country to the greatness of its citizens. The dead are honored because of their final actions, “Thus choosing to die resisting, rather than to live submitting, they fled only from dishonor, but met danger face to face, and after one brief moment, while at the summit of their fortune, escaped, not from their fear, but from their glory” (Thucydides). Pericles encourages the present people to respect and honor these men, and to act as honorably likewise. Pericles offers, “Comfort, therefore, not condolence” for the parents of the dead, because their children have been given a glorious death (Thucydides). He also encourages the birth of more men of the stature of these, and offers advice to the brothers and windows left behind. Similar to Herodotus, the mention of honor is a constant theme. Pericles even states, “For it is only the love of honor that never grows old; and honor it is, not gain, as some would have it, that rejoices the heart of age and helplessness” (Thucydides).

Pericles’ Funeral Oration set a precedent for future orations and lamentations, especially those intended for soldiers. On November 19, 1863, America was in a similar state of mourning and turmoil to Periclean Athens after the Battle of Marathon, except at this time, the United Sates was divided into the Union and Confederacy, as the US was in the midst of its civil war. The speaker was Abraham Lincoln and the speech was one of America’s most famous: the Gettysburg Address.

In Pericles’ Funeral Oration, Athens was in its own internal strife, the Peloponnesian War. Both Athens and the US had previously been prosperous because of their freedoms, but were now threatened to be torn apart by them. Both speeches began by addressing the history of
their nations. Pericles’ by stating “I shall begin with our ancestors” (Thucydides) and Lincoln’s with “Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent […]” ( Lincoln). The speeches then focus on the topic of democracy and the liberties of its people. This form of government was invented by the Greeks and was the construct for the United State’s constitution. Though the wording may be different, the ideas expressed are the same. Pericles states “if we look to the laws, they afford equal justice to all in their private differences” (Thucydides), while Lincoln asserts “conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal” (Lincoln). Similarly to Pericles’ explanation of the self-sacrifice of the soldiers in the name of a nation, Lincoln expresses how citizens of his time may honor those who died for the greater benefit of the nation, “We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live (Lincoln). Like Pericles, Lincoln encourages the listeners to take the deceased as a model to continue their greatness by devoting themselves to the state. Lincoln also stresses how these men were tested and their worth was “found in their closing scene” (Thucydides). Though Lincoln’s and Pericles’ rhetoric styles are different, Lincoln’s address pulls and reuses the concepts that Pericles outlined. In a sense, Lincoln’s address is a condensed version of Pericles’.

Fast-forwarding to more modern times, much of the flavor of Pericles’ Funeral Oration has been embodied in speeches regarding the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, the most recent time that America has been forced to deal with a large number of deaths due to a war. “My fellow citizens, for the last nine days, the entire world has seen for itself the state of union, and it is strong,” said George Bush in an address to Congress less than two weeks after the attacks (Bush), similar to how Pericles praised the city of Athens, “while the magnitude of [Athens] draws the produce of the world into our harbor” (Thucydides). Bush also publicly honored Americans who showed bravery against such as passenger Todd Beamer and police officer George Howard, similar to how Pericles honors and idealizes the men who died for Athens, “for there is justice in the claim that steadfastness in his country’s battles should be as a cloak to cover a man’s other imperfections” (Thucydides). Both speeches also give advice to the relatives of the deceased. “Americans are asking, ‘What is expected of us?’ I ask you to live your lives and hug your children,” said Bush (Bush). Similarly, Pericles encourages the Athenians not to dismay, but to continue on with their lives: “[…] you who are still of an age to beget children must bear up in the hope of having others in their stead; not only will they help you to forget those whom you have lost, but will be to the state at once a reinforcement and a security” (Thucydides).

Still, much of Bush’s speech and American news media in the months after the attack focused very much on retaliation against Al Qaeda and political issues, as opposed to on honoring the sanctity of America’s dead, as Pericles’ Funeral Oration focuses on. Instead, Bush’s speech cuts the time given to America’s fallen heroes short in order to launch a speech about the atrocities of Al Qaeda, the need for Americans’ rights to be abridged in the near future, and the need for a massive allocation of government funds to protect Americans. Although Pericles did call for the survivors to “be ready to suffer in [Athens’] cause,” this intensive combination of specific partisan political issues and funerary custom is not present in Pericles’ funeral oration, and is a notion that might not have been so widely accepted in the Greek world of Pericles (Thucydides).

Works Cited

Bush, George W. "George W. Bush After September 11." The History Place Great Speeches Collection . The History Place . 3 Feb 2009 .



A Psychoanalysis of a Hero Gone Sour
Alexander had light skin, blond hair, and melting blue eyes. A sweet natural fragrance came from his body, so strong that it perfumed his clothes. (Plutarch)

Alexander has many great qualities: he’s handsome, manly, intelligent, funny, and really, really modest. However, this blog entry isn’t about Alex Bell—it’s about Alexander "the Great," who ruled Macedon in the Third Century BCE. He had a few of the great qualities that Alex Bell has. Plutarch's Alexander "The Great" is not so much a history, but more so a story, of the rise to power, reign, and eventual death of one of the most influential rulers in Western Civilization.

The Five Best

Alexander’s strongest quality, Plutarch seems to suggest, was his ability and desire to lead by example. Plutarch describes a fine example of this selflessness in a scene between Alexander and one of his generals during the march into Asia Minor in 334 BCE. Alexander was 200 talents in debt, and did not have the funds to pay the salaries of all of his soldiers. When one of his generals asked what Alexander had saved for his own pay, Alexander replied, “My hope;” the general then followed suit and refused his own pension as well, declaring, “Your soldiers will be your partners in that” (Plutarch). Alexander again proved to be a committed role model to his soldiers in 332 BCE when on a journey from Tyre into Arabia. When his detachment became separated from the army in the cold of night, he took the initiative to steal fire from a nearby enemy’s camp in order to provide for the group; Alexander was “always encouraging his men by a personal example of readiness to work and face danger” (Plutarch). In the final hunt for Darius, Alexander and his soldiers were nearly dead from thirst, but Alexander declined the water that Macedonian scouts had offered him because there was not enough for everyone. Alexander’s positive role modeling caused his men to work harder and to be loyal to their king.

Action and glory, rather than pleasure and wealth, were what Alexander wanted from life. Fame was his passion. (Plutarch)
Following his ability to lead by example, Alexander’s next-best quality was his motivation for fame. Plutarch describes that when Alexander heard of additional conquests of Phillip, he was not happy at the wealth his soon-to-be kingdom was gaining, but rather remorseful at the potential enemies he would no longer be able to one day conquer. Similarly, Plutarch describes Alexander’s tremendous drive to be simply the best: when Anaxarchus told him about the infinite number of worlds in the universe, Alexander lamented, “There are so many worlds, and I have not yet conquered even one” (Plutarch). Alexander holds himself to quite the high standard. In 331 BCE, Alexander trekked through the deserts of Egypt to visit the temple of Ammon. Despite the amazing scarcity of water and dangerous sandstorms that had buried whole armies before, Alexander’s “natural courage made him delight in overcoming difficulties, as if conquering armies was not enough, and only Nature herself was a fit opponent for him” (Plutarch). A man of true determination, Alexander had a drive to overcome adversity.

Although his extraordinary motivation propelled him to fame, Alexander benefited from a characteristic balance in his life, of living within the Greek concept of the Aristotelian Mean. He was powerful, indeed, but always kept in mind that which made him human: a man's fatigue after exerting himself and a man's lust for sex, according to Plutarch. When eating, Alexander was “neither a glutton nor a gourmet” (Plutarch), showing balance in his life. Furthermore, after the battle of Granicus, Alexander faced the question of whether to consolidate his empire to build up a firm base for later operations, or to take the risk of trekking on toward the heart of the Persian Empire. Alexander’s motivation was checked by his measure and balance in life, and he decided to consolidate his conquests before moving on. Once again, at the battle of Arbela (aka Gaugamela) in 331 BCE, despite the rash advice of his generals to attack the Persians at night, Alexander showed a sense of patient measure to wait until daylight so that he could completely demoralize the Persians, thus making an end to the war more likely. Alexander's balance and measure counterbalanced his keen motivation.

According to Plutarch, Alexander kept his morals throughout the early part of his reign. For example, after he captured Darius’ mother, wife, and daughters, the chivalrous Alexander told them they had nothing to fear from him or his men, as he fought with Darius only for his empire, and not for personal spite. Darius, in fact, would have liked to thank his rival for the extraordinary morality that Alexander showed to the Persian royal family before he had died. As Plutarch commented on gentle Alexander’s moral side, “Alexander was always very chaste and courteous in his relations with the opposite sex, and he had a great respect for the institution of marriage” (Plutarch). Who says you can’t be both a lover and a fighter?

In addition, Alexander’s desire and ability to remember his roots and honor his teachers is notable for somebody of his status. On the march from Tyre into Arabia in 332 BCE, Alexander put himself in a very dangerous position in order to stay behind with his old teacher, Lysimachus, who could not keep up with the group. (I’d do the same for Ms. Kimball or Ms. Hastings if we were for some reason walking in a desert and one of them couldn't keep up.) After conquering the Persians, the most precious item Alexander won from Darius was an exquisite box. A man who remembers his roots, Alexander appropriately declared that the box would be used to store what must be his most valued possession, his copy of the Iliad annotated by Aristotle, the man whom he loved as much as his own father. (If Ms. Hastings and Ms. Kimball offered to annotate a book for me, I’d bring it with me on all of my military campaigns, too.) Finally, Alexander’s gifts to his tutor Leonidas were a nice gesture to remember his roots. Alexander recalled how Leonidas would scold him for using too much spices in his sacrifices by saying, “When you have conquered the countries where these things grow, then you may be more liberal, but for now do not waste the little that we have” (Plutarch). So, Alexander shared a light moment with his esteemed mentor by attaching a note to the gifts that read: “We send you plenty of frankincense and myrrh so that in the future you will not be a niggard to the gods” (Plutarch). Surely, Ms. Kimball and Ms. Hastings can count on some frankincense and myrrh coming to them in the mail from me in a few years, once I get around to conquering the world. But they'd better be nice to me until then.

In the first half or so of Plutarch’s writing, Alexander’s generosity is a very noble trait. After Alexander killed 6,000 Thebans and demolished their city, the mighty king, Plutarch claims, from then on showed kindness to any Theban survivors he came across. As he grew more wealthy, he became more generous, and he gave with the grace that makes a gift really appreciated. For example, when Ariston told Alexander that he had killed an enemy and that the customary prize was a gold cup, Alexander responded: “Yes, an empty one. But here is one full of good wine, and a toast to your good service and friendship” (Plutarch). Alexander, according to Plutarch, was more displeased with those who refused his generosity than with those who abused it.

Later on, however, Alexander’s generosity became excessive. When he entered India, he treated many of the leaders extraordinarily well. For example, he flattered King Taxiles with incredible gifts for no reason at all, displeasing many of his old friends from Macedonia. This character flaw follows the Greek view of a tragic character who falls prey to his hamartia, a noble characteristic taken to excess. Many of Alexander’s worst qualities were actually noble characteristics, but grew to be excessive in him.



The Five Worst:
Why Alexander wasn't so great...

Alexander’s worst quality was his eagerness to adopt foreign customs because it alienated his own followers; this stage of his life was a reversal from the times when he remembered and respected his roots. As he wore increasingly more Eastern clothes, first in front of only locals and later in front of his soldiers, his men were filled with grief. He took part in the local Bactrian wedding ceremonies when he married Roxane, which endeared him to the Easterners, yet lost him more respect from his Macedonians. The title he claimed of Sun God and the groveling he demanded from the Easterners (but appreciated from the Greeks, as well) was a custom the Greeks were neither acquainted with nor happy to embrace. When Alexander began training Persians for the military, his own Macedonian countrymen felt obsolete and cast out. The tension caused by Alexander’s adoption of Eastern ways came to a climax when Clitus confronted Alexander: “[…] those men are lucky who did not live to see Macedonians have to beg Persians for access to their king, and to see Greeks beaten by barbarian rods” (Plutarch). Alexander’s conflict over his own identity leads him to silence Clitus with his spear.

More common to kings of great empires was Alexander’s overbearing sense of pride, or hubris. Over dinner, he sometimes would lapse into braggadocio, which is an SAT word of the day if I’ve ever seen one. His pride and boasting put his friends in the uneasy position of either shamefully joining in the empty praise of the man who became a god-king, or perilously staying silent (or even worse, in the case of Clitus, to criticize Alexander).

At times, especially later in his conquests, Alexander would be swayed by whims and paranoid delusions. For example, Alexander was convinced that his father was planning to give the kingdom to his brother (by another mother), Arrhidaeus, when Phillip accepted a proposal for the daughter of the satrap of Caria to marry Arrhidaeus. Alexander would have sunken to a very low level to marry the daughter of “a man who was no more than the slave of a barbarian king” (Plutarch). Alexander was also very often swayed by the whims of his mother. Upon reading a letter from Antipater, his governor in Macedonia, that enumerated grievances against Olympias for her meddling, Alexander said to his friends: “Antipater does not realize that one tear of a mother erases ten thousand letters like this” (Plutarch). Toward the end of his life, Alexander became even more paranoid. He killed both Philotas and Parmenio because he suspected them of plotting against him, despite Parmenio’s many years of honorable service and friendship. He goes on to accuse another friend, Clitus, of inciting rebellion among the Macedonians, and kills the man who had saved his life once at the Battle of Granicus. Finally, his rage at the death of Hephaestion led Alexander to all sorts of outlandish acts, from crucifying his deceased friend’s doctor to massacring the entire country of the Cossaeans for no reason.

Eventually, Alexander’s character caved to a certain laxity that grew as his riches grew. As his soldiers slacked off in their military training, the once-fierce Alexander “gently scolded them” (Plutarch). The soldiers’ bad attitude, which Alexander did little to prevent, caused them to talk poorly of their king. Even his laxity in ladling out his riches to foreigners made him more despised by his own people. Without the need for caution and attention that he once had as a king of a warring empire, Alexander changed for the worse.

As Alexander grew more successful, his morals also became unimportant to him (or, perhaps he just started making up his own moral code). After the Battle of Issus in 333 BCE, Alexander made every soldier in his army a rich man, with beautiful women for slaves. Plutarch explains that Alexander wanted his men “to get a taste of barbaric luxury that would make them more eager to conquer more territory” and considered the act “like giving bloodhounds the scent” (Plutarch). The chivalrous young king was losing his moral superiority. And so began the decline of the character of Alexander the Great, as encompassed in Anaxarchus’ words of comfort to Alexander after the slaying of Clitus:
Look at him lying on the ground, sobbing because he fears what men might say about him—as if he himself should not give them law, and establish the boundaries of justice and injustice. He who conquers is the lord and master, not the slave, of the idle opinions of little men. (Plutarch)

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The Evolution of the Kimbalian Society


Imagine for a moment, if you will, that we’re in a state of primitive anarchy. We know nothing of the reign of tyrants and kings, we’ve never heard of the Magna Carta and the American Constitution, and we don’t know the meaning of government and society. We’ll call this land Kimbalia. The people there are strange, as you can see from the photo on the right.

One day, I notice how far I have to walk through the jungle to get to the main watering hole in Kimbalia. My neighbors have the same problem. I could spend all of my time and resources building a road to the watering hole by myself and not let my neighbors use it. But there’s an easier way…. My neighbors and I decide to build one big road together, dividing the work and dividing the raw materials that each man contributes, and then we share the road. Each man’s contribution is less than it would have been if he had built the road by himself.

Eventually, my neighbors and I become so happy with our arrangement that we take it to new levels, and include more and more people so that each one of us has to pay less. Everyone in Kimbalia chips in some lumber or some food so that we can pay a witch-doctor to treat us when we’re sick. Even for those Kimbalians who are usually healthy, the deal is still beneficial to them, as insurance in case they fall ill and need to see the witch-doctor immediately.

Instead of delivering our own messages, we Kimbalians find we can get more work done on our farms if we come together to retain the services of Adam Trofa to deliver messages daily all around Kimbalia; plus, Adam Trofa can run around the country in just one day, whereas the same run takes most Kimbalians almost a month, making important events and warnings nearly impossible to communicate in time.

Then, the residents of Kimbalia decide that it’s ineffective for each man to try to patrol his own farm from roving hordes of barbarian marauders, so we hire trained men with clubs to patrol the land of Kimbalia for us. Due to the high risk of the Kimbalians’ farms burning down in the hot, dry, summer, we hire men to fight fires. Each Kimbalian pays only a small amount for this service, but it has paid off many times when the men have saved farms, and the cost to pay the men, shared among all the Kimbalians, is very small compared to the amount of protection they provide in case of a fire.

You can stop imagining now. Thank you.


We’ve obviously developed terms for all of these concepts: taxes, infrastructure, healthcare (although it’s still not part of society’s obligation today), military/police, firemen, et cetera. We expect services that improve our lives from society. Education is another one. Last year, whenever a student came into AP Chem class without knowing Roman numerals, Coach Jacobs would scream at him to march down to the superintendent’s office and demand his tax dollars back. We have the right to expect these services because we’re paying for them with our tax dollars, the exact same way that we expect to be served at a restaurant because we’re footing the bill.

The United States government is just one society that exists in our lives, but nearly all other societies work the same way. For example, Ms. Kimball and Ms. Hastings pay dues to a teachers’ union, and in return they get certain protections and benefits. If the union ever stopped fulfilling its end of the bargain and didn’t protect teachers in the next contract negotiations or didn’t make teachers feel like they were being represented in the bureaucracy, the teachers would stop paying their dues to the union (or call for new leadership, if possible). Likewise, if teachers one day decided they just wouldn’t pay the union any more, they would lose the benefits they had from being in the union.

Government and all other societies, at their most basic forms, are simply capitalistic vendors of protection and other benefits. Societies exist to make our lives better, in exchange for some relatively small contribution of time, effort, or money. Societies always seek to grow in members in order to maximize risk-sharing and resources, thus decreasing the cost per member of being in the society and/or increasing the services that the society provides to each member.

There are two situations in which we wouldn’t be required to follow the rules of a society. One scenario is if the society does not fulfill its part in its contract. In such a case, members of the society would be justified in withdrawing their support.

The other scenario is whenever not following the rules would be for the good of the society. Essentially, any successful society has one reason to function: to give as much benefit to its members for the lowest cost. Rules, regulations, laws, bylaws—all that stuff exists solely to help the society to achieve that one purpose. Since societies exist to bring benefit to their members, the other scenario in which violating the rules of a society would be permissible would be in order to bring greater net benefit to its members. For example, if you would turn on your thinking cap once more:

The primitive people of Kimbalia have magically created cars to run on their beautiful new roads. Due to a high number of car accidents, they have magically forged traffic lights to control traffic, as well. Farmer Kohlberg, one of the Kimbalians, is driving his pregnant wife, who is about to give birth, to the witch-doctor when he comes to a red light. His wife needs to get some herbs from the witch doctor immediately, if not sooner. What should the farmer do?

Obviously, the law was intended to protect the Kimbalians, not to hurt them. So, the farmer looks both ways, feels fairly confident that no cars are coming, and proceeds through the red light, thus violating the Kimbalian society’s rules. He does so, however, for the good of the society. The good of the society is always the supreme directive, and all other rules in a society are subordinate to that goal.