Wuthering Heights – and Shakespeare

A few years back now, I bought the Franklin Edition of this novel.  Now I have just finished what was at least my fifth reading of the novel.  This edition is bound in leather, and the American drawings are almost photographic compared to the bleak wood cuts in the Folio Edition. 

After I had first read this version, I placed it at number 1 in the series of great books called A Curated Library.  It is elemental and unique, like the book that had been number 1 – Carlyle, The French Revolution.  And reading it again, I was reminded of the advice of a tutor at Cambridge.  ‘Don’t read it as history.  Treat it like opera or an epic poem.’

In the Foreword to the Folio, another Yorkshire novelist, Phyllis Bentley is recorded as saying:

On the moors one could escape from all the conventional restraint and battle fiercely with earth and sky… It is this untamed moorland and its untamed characters, who admit no restraint in their fierce passions, which give Wuthering Heights its incomparable air of dark, wild, stormy freedom.

That would accord with my sentiment that we are all like Hottentots tip toeing around the crater of a live volcano, when there is no known rule about who might fall in. 

I set out my impressions about fifteen years ago in the extract below, and I will just add a few observations about a novel about our inclination to lock out the outsider.

There is quite a bit of Antony and Cleopatra in Cathy and Heathcliff – a blazing untameable, but unworldly passion, except this time the gypsy is the male.  And there is a lot of Romeo and Juliet, except this time the lovers bring their dooms on their own heads.  And there are issues not just of class, but of caste.  There are aspects of this tragedy, for that is what it is, that call to mind Othello, theultimate outsider (depending on your view of The Merchant of Venice).

And this is a revenge story, as searing as the revenge in Titus Andronicus.  Then, in the end, two battered misfits survive the rubble to unite the two houses of the star-crossed lovers, and go out in quest of what Churchill called those broad sunlit uplands, in a way that calls to mind the magical finale of the Julie Taymor movie, or the ethereal peace found at the end of Die Walküre. 

You can, as they say, treat the novel as an opera, just as Wilhelm Furtwangler did for the symphony.  But, putting all labels to one side, this is one of the most searing and explosive moments in our literature.

Well, in addition to Shakespeare, Emily was brought up on the adamantine strictures of the Old Testament, the closet subtlety of Virgil, and the fiery imagination of Milton.  Perhaps no one else wrote like Emily because so few were brought up like that.

It is not just the location that makes this novel different – it is the times.  Class was all pervasive.  Servants were different – and less entitled to respect.  (That puts it softly.)  ‘Equality’ was a myth blown up by the French.  When Heathcliff returns, should he take food in the parlour, or stay in the kitchen with the servants?  Good grief, might they have had to set two tables?  Children were treated coldly, if not cruelly.  And sickness of any kind carried the threat of death.  Sick people had to be nursed over long periods.  Sanitation was not understood, and medicine was not far removed from the barber shop. 

The author died at the age of thirty.  When you compare her age and that of her sister, or Jane Austen, with that of Charles Dickens, you can gauge what we missed.

God only knows what may have happened if Mozart had lived as long as Shakespeare.

*

WUTHERING HEIGHTS

Emily Brontë (1847)

Franklin Library, 1971.  Fully leather bound, with gold edges and figured endpapers.  Illustrated by Alan Reingold.  Preface by Charlotte Bronte.

… and the angels were so angry that they flung me out, into the middle of the heath on top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy.  It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff, now; so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am.  Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same….

Wuthering Heights has passages like this that some English ladies – and I do mean ladies – that you might meet at Oxford University know by heart.  It has become part of the English psyche.  It was the first and only novel of a young woman from Yorkshire who had probably scarcely been kissed by a man, and it fairly raises the question: just what did they put on the porridge of those young girls up there back then? 

Emily Brontë was brought up in Yorkshire with a Celtic ancestry of an Irish father and a Cornish mother.  Her father was an Anglican minister and the parsonage was the centre of the life of the family which included a sister, Charlotte.  The girls went to a harsh Curates’ Daughters’ School, but they had the run of their father’s library, so that their education in literature was so much better than what modern children get – the Old Testament, Virgil, Shakespeare, Milton, and the rest. 

The children’s mother died young, as was common in that time, and their aunt had a fiercely Calvinist view of the world.  The children began creating their own tales and legends and creating their own worlds for those legends.  They spent some time in Europe, but they were unhappy away from the parsonage.  The novel Jane Eyre by Charlotte came out two months before Wuthering Heights.  They are very, very different books.

When you think of Wuthering Heights, think not of a novel.  Think of Shakespeare – the passionate young Hamlet jumping into the grave in defiance of convention to embrace the dead body of a woman who went mad and then killed herself when Hamlet so coldly and cruelly rejected her; think of King Lear, plunged into madness by his sustained rage at being rejected by the one woman he loved; think of Othello, tipped over the brink of madness by the thought that the young, white woman he loved was not true to him; think of Macbeth, who allows the woman he loves to push him so that his ambition sends him and her to their respective hells; think of Malvolio, who is cruelly tricked into believing that his lady loves him and then is even more cruelly accused of being mad; and think of Prospero, who uses his powers of magic to bring together those who had wronged him and then brings them undone – and then buries his magic. 

Think of opera.  Think of The Flying Dutchman, and the thumping romantic drive of the music of the sea by Wagner, and the story of a rejected loner doomed to roam alone until he finds redemption.  Think of painting.  Think above all of La Tempesta by Giorgione.  Against a nocturnal European landscape, with sawn-off pillars and odd buildings, and lightning in the sky, a young man in contemporary costume stands calmly watching over a nude woman suckling a child.  Have you ever seen anything so enigmatic?  What on earth can it mean?  Or are we simply impertinent to seek to put into words what this great artist put on canvas?  Well, then, why not just enjoy it? 

Wuthering Heights is the story of a man despised and rejected of men, who is then rejected by the woman he loves, and who sets out to and does get revenge upon the whole pack of them, but who then, in the emptiness of his achievement, is reconciled to the memory of the woman he loved. 

The scenes between Cathy and Heathcliff on his return are the most blazing.  ‘I meditated this plan just to have one glimpse of your face – and a stare of surprise, perhaps, and pretended pleasure; afterwards settle my score with Hindley; and then prevent the law by doing execution on myself.’

The score settling would have to be terminal.  This is as elemental as Greek tragedy.

In their final argument Heathcliff looks to Nelly like a mad dog foaming at the mouth.  There is a level of sustained hysteria rarely seen outside of Dostoyevsky.  Heathcliff and Cathy flay and lacerate each other like mad monks.  It is like crossing Medea and Now, Voyager.

Has any other English writer unleashed emotional power – passion – like this?  The fury that Heathcliff unloads on those who should have been close to him – for example his wife and his son – must unsettle any reader.  Heathcliff twice refers to Cathy as a ‘slut’.  Nelly got it right when she said they were ‘living among clowns and misanthropes’.  But the more revenge and power that Heathcliff gets, the emptier becomes the shell of his life, and then we see that the second Cathy is looking to change things by being civilized.

For Heathcliff, God and Satan are one, and equally irrelevant, but somehow, he manages to induce his own death, so that he can be at one in the ground with his Cathy. 

The novel ends in this way: ‘I sought, and soon discovered, that the three headstones on the slope next the moor …I lingered around them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath, and the harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth’.  It is so English, and yet so wild.  And the ending is as rich as that of The Dead by Joyce.

This novel comes up at us out of the earth like a novel of Christina Stead –a rough uncut diamond.  It is all rawness, and it is found in Yorkshire, of all places.  Antony and Cleopatra, Abelard and Heloise, Tristan and Isolde, and Romeo and Juliet come at us from the mists of the past and foreign places.  (Charlotte found her male lead in Rochester in Jane Eyre – those Brontë girls sure liked their men strong and tough.)  

Our novel is altogether more modern.  Heathcliff is the original angry young man who comes undone because his girl is not ready for him – Cathy prefers the discreet charms of the bourgeoisie, with a little bit of bovver on the side. 

Well, who could blame her?  Heathcliff was a gypsy, and he had all the makings of a real bastard.  And yet we know that neither was ever going to find peace above the ground.  How come, then, that Geoffrey Boycott was so boring? 

*

And if I can bring this note to an end by swapping from cricket to footy, when you get into this book, you are playing with the big boys.  What a shame for us that we never got a reading of this book with Heathcliff read by Richard Burton.

Quo vadis, Conservatism?

The most abused word in our language may be ‘conservative’.  When applied to the political attitudes of a person or party, what does it mean?  Is it of any use here in Australia now?  Do we have a conservative political party?

The Shorter OED has: opposed to change and holding traditional values… (in politics) favouring free enterprise and private ownership.  The Macquarie has: disposed to preserve existing conditions…cautious or moderate…traditional in style or manner….

These categories are very wide, and obviously open to questions of degree.  They practically invite the application of bromides like ‘broad church’ – until the body is so wide that it is no longer a church. 

Most labels are suspect – this one is even more so.  Some people are optimistic about the work of government.  Others are pessimistic.  Some crave change.  Others fear it.  There may be deep emotional values underlying differing world views.  The place of ‘science’ in all this is wobbly.  The temptation of deception is strong.  And the poseur might have a field day.  Especially one who craves the ear of the ‘people’.

We can see the room for slippage in the notion of ‘conservative’ from the definition in The Oxford Definition of Philosophy.

ConservatismOriginally in Burke an ideology of caution in departing from the historical roots of a society, or changing its inherited traditions and institutions.  In this ‘organic’ form, it includes allegiance to tradition, community, hierarchies of rank, benevolent paternalism, and a properly subservient underclass.  By contrast, conservatism can be taken to imply a laissez-faire ideology of untrammelled individualism that puts the emphasis on personal responsibility, free markets, law and order, and a minimal role for government, with neither community, nor tradition, nor benevolence entering more than marginally.  The two strands are not easy to reconcile, either in theory or in practice.

Those remarks are English and dated now.  No sane person here would refer to ‘a properly subservient underclass’.  But no political party in the Welfare State can reject ‘benevolent paternalism’.  That would be political suicide. 

We inherited the Welfare State from the English.  The constant political issue is that we demand to retain the benefits, but we turn against those who want us to pay for them.  The result is that our government is broke, because its members are too scared of us to do what is required.  They just pass the buck to the next lot. 

They deny that, but we do not believe them.  Nor do we do anything to fix the problem.  This failing looks to be inevitable in our model of democracy.  I have no idea what the end will be.

Another thing we inherited from the English was a rejection of theory or ideology.  We distrust both.  ‘Ideology’ comes from the study of ideas.  We act on the lessons of experience rather than the demands of logic.  You see very different attitudes across the Channel or the Atlantic.

Another thing we inherited from England, after America had not, is that the English had accepted the responsibility of government for looking after the poor from at least the time of Queen Elizabeth I (1558-1603).  In the sixteenth century, before white people had even seen America, the English people had assumed obligations for their poor that would have been abhorrent to their Puritans back then, and which still look at best alien to most Americans today.  By 1563, the English had made a law for the compulsory levy for the maintenance of ‘impotent, aged and needy persons’.  The Oxford History of England records that the English accepted that the poor were ‘a charge on public benevolence’ and that ‘responsibility in the matter could not be left to the conscience of the individual, but must be enforced by law upon everyone.’ 

The English did not do this for ideology or out of charity, but for the prosaic object of keeping the peace against vagabonds.  They faced reality, not God.  Common sense trumps theory.  The distance from this very old English position to that in America now is as deep as the Atlantic.

When you add to that the fact that the Welfare State was introduced to England by Lloyd George and Winston Churchill in the People’s Budget, you get a better idea of the difference between us and the U S. 

Before Churchill, Disraeli had been the pin-up boy of English Conservatives.  That did not stop him taking the plunge and introducing something like universal male suffrage.  The great Prussian, Count Otto von Bismarck, had done the same for Germany before he introduced the Welfare State there.  Disraeli and Bismarck were archetype conservatives – and I admire both.

‘Conservatives,’ then, could be alarmingly ‘progressive, to use another very plastic label.  Even when ‘conservatism’ was in full flower it allowed policies we now call liberal or progressive and which would be pure heresy to those who claim to be ‘conservatives’ in the U S today.  Burke, Bismarck and Disraeli did things that would lead to apoplexy on Sky After Dark.

England had both a conservative party and a liberal party.  (Churchill flitted between both, but he was one off.)  England still has a party with ‘Liberal’ in its name beside the party of the Tories.

Australia has a party called the Liberal Party.  It also claims to be conservative, although its lore is that the title ‘Liberal’ was deliberately chosen.  It now looks neither liberal nor conservative.

For about a generation it was wedded to a party of very determined agrarian socialists.  That party now looks to be in the hands not of farmers, but mining companies and urban ideologues in think tanks.  The coalition further dilutes any recognisable platform.

What are the results in Australia? 

 First, neither of the two main parties can come close to forming a majority in parliament.  Each is on the nose to the public at large.  One is accused of forgetting its roots or past.  The other is accused – and fairly accused – of not fulfilling its obligations in opposition and of turning its province into a one-party state. 

Secondly, on vote-driving issues, the only differences between the two parties are those of degree.  With the possible exception of preserving the environment, neither major party offers policies that derive from its platform, and are different in substance to those of the other side.  Each is engaged in a listless and useless game of charades that turns people right off politics as a whole.

Thirdly, whereas two generations ago it was the Labour Party that was unelectable because of division, ideology, cranks, and crooks, now it is the turn of the Liberal Party.  They look useless and bent on sustained irrelevance under the sedative of the ideology of their media drivers. 

It is best to pass over the National Party and One Nation in silence.

The conclusion is, I think, that the word ‘conservative’ has no place in Australian politics.  It is at best useless, and at worst misleading.  Like ‘socialist’, it is a darling dodo of our time.

And no populist can claim to be ‘conservative.’  They stand, they say, for ordinary people against the ruling Establishment, whose members they brand with the term ‘elites’.  I long for the day when an Australian says ‘I don’t want the best cricketer in my Australian XI – I want a dinky die Aussie battler or bludger.’  Or someone walking into a hospital saying ‘I need surgery to deal with a life-threatening condition, but I don’t want a Top Gun surgeon – a GP from the sticks suits my schtick.  I distrust all elites.  I am but a child of the people. Who was it who said of the people, by the people, for the people?’

The most hilarious claimant for the label ‘conservative’ is Donald Trump.  His mission is to obliterate the whole status quo by deceit, and if necessary by violence and force.  And a frightening number of Americans are happy to go along for the ride on a violent road.  And the last thing Trump wants to ‘conserve’ is the planet.

His major trumpet, Fox News, has nothing to do with politics.  It exists simply to enrich and aggrandize its owners.  In this respect, it resembles Trump.  By contrast, the function of the Murdoch press in Australia is simple.  It appeals only to a portion of the voters who can only vote for one party, and while doing so makes that party unelectable.

The American ideology is home grown – the family, God, and the flag.  They look still to have a hankering after royalty, as do the French, but at its worst in the U S, you get the spewing hate of Stephen Miller, who is besotted by the very idea of ideology.

There is an ideology that has steadily been growing in this country which hates everything that is good, righteous and beautiful and celebrates everything that is warped, twisted and depraved.  It is an ideology at war with family and nature. It is envious, malicious, and soulless.  It is an ideology that looks upon the perfect family with bitter rage while embracing the serial criminal with tender warmth.  Its adherents organize constantly to tear down and destroy every mark of grace and beauty while lifting up everything monstrous and foul.

You would not want to be left alone in a room with a man who talks like that.  Goebbels would have blanched.  This is wild uncharted Scapegoat Territory.

So, the future looks bleak for democracy all round. 

Conservatism is a natural and decent instinct, but it has been claimed by people who are anything but decent, either because they are stupid, or greedy, or both.

Oddly enough, Australia may be well placed to deal with the Fall.  This is because we are not interested in ideology – or, for that matter, politics at large.  Life offers so much more.  Most sane Australians would much prefer to talk about footy or cricket than the so called ‘culture wars’.  And that is very healthy.  Australians correctly suspect those who have the time and inclination to indulge in what are called the ‘politics of grievance’.  What more do these people want?  What drives them to keep stirring the possum?  Did they not have enough toys in their childhood?

I was reminded of a very cold morning in the middle of winter on a crowded platform on a railway station an hour from Melbourne some years ago.  Then came the dreaded announcement.  The train was delayed.  Yet again.  That led to the following conversation.

I am going to punish these bastards for this at the next state election.

So am I, Mate.

Can you just remind me, Cobber – which set of bludgers claims to be running this bloody joint at the moment?

Passing Bull 412 – The spellbinding hypocrisy of Americans and guns

It’s worth [it] to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year, so that we can have the Second Amendment to protect our other God-given rights. That is a prudent deal.

The author of that evil banality was the late Charlie Kirk.  The President said he was a martyr.  He is – to Trump and the rest of the gun lobby.  Just another unfortunate gun death – under God and an Amendment.

The Mob – and Some of our Vices

Shortly before white men began occupying this country, London was consumed by riots against Catholics.  These were the Gordon Riots of 1780.  Night after night, many substantial buildings, including the home of Lord Mansfield and his library beyond price, were burnt down, and hundreds were killed when the military established law and order. 

Charles Dickens told the story of those riots in his novel, Barnaby Rudge (1841)It is an epic tale full of sound and fury, but an idiot is the hero, and this story is full of significance.  In the words of his mother, Barnaby, with the soul of innocence, ‘has been led astray in the darkness of his intellect.’  It must have taken real courage to write a novel so constructed, and having now read it for the third time, I regard it as the most powerful novel that this author has left to us.

It was not in my view an accident that led Dickens to write about the actions of the London mob with an idiot in the central role.  In words that will ring true for those who experienced the march against migrants that was patronized by neo Nazis in Melbourne in the beginning of Spring 2025, Dickens spoke of ‘this vast throng, sprinkled doubtless here and there with honest zealots, but composed for the most part of the very scum and refuse of London.’ 

One thing the novel is clear on.  People in a mob can be divided in two groups – the puppeteers, those who do the manipulating, and the base, those who are content to be manipulated.  It is an unholy marriage.  In the novel, one of the mob calls a puppeteer ‘so awful sly.’

Reading the novel again has prompted reflections on aspects of the Melbourne disturbances compared to the riots in London.

Selfishness

Even hermits may feel the need to call a plumber, night carter, or doctor.  If you wish to live with, or at least have access to, other people, you will not be able to act as if you were one person standing alone.  You would have to contradict Richard III expressly when he said ‘I am myself alone.’  (And he is the archetype villain.)  If you want to be able to take, you must be able to give.  In the vernacular, you must pull your weight.

This is too much for too many.  We saw it during the Covid emergency.  In an emergency, the need for cooperation and cohesion is increased.  Yet many selfish people asserted a right to opt out.  They sprouted ideological claptrap about ‘liberty’, or doubts about vaccines.  They were more concerned about their alleged rights than the vulnerability of others.  They were selfish. 

Some even claimed to be ‘sovereign citizens’.  Sovereignty is a tricky notion at best, but this looks like a contradiction in terms that makes as much sense as ‘powerless monarch’.  There is a term for such people.  ‘Bush lawyers’ are serial pests.

Then, after two police officers were murdered, and all available police were involved in a search for a dangerous killer, some decided to go ahead with a public event that they knew would take up police time and cause serious trouble.  They generated division and loathing, and some confronted and attacked police at the worst possible time. 

They seemed to be equally opposed to recent migrants and those who had been here for many thousands of years before any white people arrived in their boats.  (A lecturer of colour at Cambridge said the British Empire was spread by ‘water-borne parasites’.  It was a great line about ‘boat people’.)  The flag they purported to celebrate features a foreign flag – the one that was run up by those white migrants who first arrived here in 1788.  These marchers were in large part as nasty as they were selfish.

Prejudice

Truth matters.  Or it used to matter. 

We arrive at it, or try to arrive at it, by thinking.  There are many ways that process can be corrupted.  The most common is prejudice.  We tend to prejudge issues based on insufficient evidence and to arrive at an opinion that suits our world view.  Antagonism between people of different race, religion, sex, or sexuality typically starts this way.  It is harmless in sporting competitions, but poisonous elsewhere.

That is one way we fail to arrive at truth and risk being lost in Fantasyland.  But truth as a whole has been undermined by what is called ‘social media’, so that the man who was called the leader of the free world looks to have lost all connection with truth.  There is in play a catatonic movement in how people at large think – or, rather, don’t think.

Laziness

Too many people are too loose in their language.  We all have our prejudices – about religion and sport for example – but we are insulted if someone says we are prejudiced against people on the grounds of race, sex, or sexuality. 

The relevant terms of abuse include ‘anti-Semitic’, ‘misogynist’, and ‘homophobic’.  They have all been used so loosely that none has scarcely any useful content left.  If John the footballer is said to be ‘homophobic’, the relevant emotion is not fear.  Rather, the charge is that John dislikes gay people; that his dislike is irrational; and that he regards all gay people as being in some way inferior.  John is in truth endorsing a form of branding – something we normally reserve for cattle.

You do not compliment John by describing him in that way.  On the contrary, you are attacking him by denigrating his humanity.

There are then these problems.  This charge is far too often made with no adequate foundation.  And in circumstances of strife where prejudice and malice too often are manifest.  And the person making the charge is indulging in a form of branding, and so engaging in something like the vice he or she is attacking.

Stupidity

This ‘branding’ commonly involves its own kind of stupidity.  Do I have the right to call John a loud bigot just because he barracks for Arsenal or Collingwood?  Or can I call Ivan uncivilized just because he is Russian?  Or can I say that no Irish man can be trusted to pay tax because of the attitude of Irish government to tax? 

In each case the available premises do not support the conclusion.  The Latin phrase is non sequitur.  And in each case, there is an insult to the humanity of the target. 

Insult weighed very heavily in the Roman law of civil wrongs.  And you can find authority for a very large proposition of Roman law that any affront to the dignity of the individual was actionable for the wrong of inuria.  The common law knew nothing of the kind.

Victimhood

You know you are in Lala Land when Donald Trump claims that he and Vladimir Putin, and, for that matter Benjamin Netanyahu, are victims of some undue process.  (He is happy to pass over the fact that he is so far at least the only member of the trilogy to have been convicted of a serious crime.)  Nigel Farage claims the right to stand up for victims.  He says that ordinary English people are victims of excessive migration.  That claim was being aired in the marches against migrants here in Australia.

This is I suppose an example of what some people in the press call ‘identity politics’.  The problem is that to claim each member of a group should be regarded as different to the rest of the community, and therefore dealt with differently, can lead to the most pernicious consequences in the history of mankind.

Naivety

If you watch programs like American Greed, you will wonder at the stupidity of victims of con men.  You may wonder if you could be so vulnerable.  ‘There is one born every minute’ is a truth that comes from the fact that the promise of wealth distorts, or blows, people’s minds.  They forget one maxim of investment: the greater the return, the higher the risk.  At best, the victims look naïve, and when the scam is uncovered, they feel shame that they allowed themselves to be taken for a ride.  (I speak from experience of having been scammed.)

Recently, people marched in Melbourne protesting, they said, against migration.  Very few would acknowledge that all white people in Australia – the nation of the infamous White Australia Policy – are migrants, or descendants of migrants going back to 1788, but we can put that to one side.  We are assured that many of these people were decent people exercising their democratic right of protest in an event that was taken over by neo Nazis. 

That takeover was foreseeable, if not inevitable, and those decent people must be naïve to a level that makes them dangerous.  They were after all participating in the inevitable replay of an historical process.  Children fight hard to gain control of the tree house, and then fight like hell to lock out other upstarts threatening to dilute their power or wealth.  Try for example The Lord of the Flies by William Golding.

Jealousy

If you look at western democracies that embody the welfare state – and the U S is not one of them – you face the same problems.  People want to receive the same benefits from government, but they don’t want to pay for it.  Those at the top get cross at the increasing demands made on them, and those at the bottom are incensed at the lack of fairness in the distribution of income and wealth.  And they resent newcomers who look to them to be here to get their heads in the trough.  They fear that their own standing is being debased.

You know you have a problem when both ends are whingeing, but it is hard to persuade a bank teller that the system is fair and reasonable when her boss gets paid one hundred times what she gets, and when some professional people are charging north of thirty thousand dollars a day.

Righteousness

This term is not often used favourably now.  It is downright obnoxious when claimed for one’s self by the speaker – usually by implication.  It is implicit in the bearing of the victims.  The self-righteousness of some victims – actual or alleged – can be revolting, especially with those who look like anything but victims, when they seek to benefit from the suffering of others.  (A droll observer, might offer, from a safe distance, Collingwood supporters as a good example.  People of wealth and standing posing as victims.) 

Not many of these standard-bearers of the downcast are surgeons or silks.  But we see it now from those at the very top to those at the very bottom when they seek to assert some moral right in what is otherwise a sterile argument about wealth and power – underwritten by the green-eyed monster called jealousy. 

These claims on righteousness lead people into melodrama, and claiming a significance that life has otherwise denied them.  For a change, they mean something, and they have a cause.

And white Australians baiting migrants and people of colour, when all white Australians are white migrants or their descendants, are about as nasty as you can get.  Among other things, apart from our migrant past, you would have to shut down every hospital in Australia if you were to exclude migrants, especially those from Asia and Africa.

Insecurity

Insecurity is no more a vice than anxiety, but it plays a fundamental role in much of our communal unrest.  You do not see many professional people or leaders of business at MAGA or Nazi rallies, and you rarely hear complaints or fears about migrants from those whose position or status is secure.  The trouble often comes from those who are insecure, and therefore feel anxiety, a form of fear.  This then disfigures thought.  The great Dutch philosopher Spinoza said:

‘Men would never be superstitious if they could govern all their circumstances by set rules, or if they were always favoured by fortune …. The human mind is readily swayed this way or that in times of doubt, especially when hope and fear are struggling for the mastery, though usually it is boastful, over-confident and vain.  Superstition, then, is engendered, preserved and fostered by fear.’

Some cannot tolerate doubt, and along with superstition, they go after any conspiracy theory that they think might justify their world view.

It is, I suppose, a fact of life, if not language, that the weak are prey to predators.  And stupidity and insecurity lead inevitably to gullibility, as Spinoza observed. 

People become suckers for those who have the answer.  They are vulnerable, and when the aggrieved unite behind a leader, their communal belief and self-righteousness warps their minds, and strife and violence become more incidental than accidental.  On a bad day you get the Proud Boys.  Here it is the so-called neo Nazis – forget the neo, they are Nazis properly so called. 

Macaulay said:

‘We daily see men do for their party, for their sect, for their country, for their favourite schemes of political and social reform, what they would not do to enrich or avenge themselves…. virtue itself may contribute to the fall of him who imagines that it is within his power, by violating some general rule of morality, to confer an important benefit on a church, on a commonwealth, on mankind.’

Ambition

This does not sound like the people we are looking at.  ‘Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.’  Big hitters like Alexander, Julius Caesar, Napoleon and Hitler all had ambition and were brought down by it, leaving millions of dead behind them, but it does not seem the appropriate epithet for our protesting marchers.  They do not want to join the ‘elites’ – they loathe them.

Intolerance

Attaching headings to these traits should not give these labels any more force than traits to look for in trying to work out how we go off the rails.  They are all out there to combine to undo us.  But we may have left the worst to last.  Intolerance.  Sir Lewis Namier knew as much about history as anyone I have read.  He said what we miss is ‘tolerance with the restraint it implies.’  If you look at the flare-ups currently being encountered in the U S, the U K, or Australia, they arise from or are driven by intolerance and a lack of restraint.

Venom

The result of these vices can be a loathing that cannot be dismissed as irrational, and a form of vitriol that is anything but rational.  Such as Nazis or police killers who call themselves ‘sovereign citizens.’  These people are cancers on the common weal, and in looking at dealing with them, we should bear steadily in mind the forces for evil that were unleashed in Paris in 1789, in St Petersburg in 1918, and Berlin in 1933.  Those explosions led to catastrophic losses of life and human dignity.  It is curious that two are still celebrated in some parts.  But what we do know is that when revolution comes, the scum rises to the surface – and we can already see the scum before our eyes.

Dickens had at least two things in common with Shakespeare – the ability to depict precisely those at the bottom of the barrel, and an unholy fear of the mob.  In this Dickens novel, the hero was sentenced to death for his part in the riots.  He got a full pardon in the end, presumably on the ground of some kind of diminished responsibility.  Medicine may need to refine its views on insanity, and the law may need to do so on criminal liability, but it would be as well to remember the insistence of Hannah Arendt that:

‘The trouble with Eichmann was precisely that so many were like him, and that many were neither perverted nor sadistic, that they were, and still are, terribly and terrifyingly normal.’

Passing Bull 411 – Hume on dodgy moralists

DISPUTES with men, pertinaciously obstinate in their principles, are, of all others, the most irksome; except, perhaps, those with persons, entirely disingenuous, who really do not believe the opinions they defend, but engage in the controversy, from affectation, from a spirit of opposition, or from a desire of showing wit and ingenuity, superior to the rest of mankind.  The same blind adherence to their own arguments is to be expected in both; the same contempt of their antagonists; and the same passionate vehemence, in inforcing sophistry and falsehood.  And as reasoning is not the source, whence either disputant derives his tenets; it is in vain to expect, that any logic, which speaks not to the affections, will ever engage him to embrace sounder principles.

David Hume began his Enquiry regarding the Principles of Morals this way in about 1750 – centuries before Fox News or Sky After Dark.  Andrew Bolt would have been his Eureka moment – the same passionate vehemence, in inforcing sophistry and falsehood.