An email message from Poland, received February 4, spurred some research on my part. My correspondent, Dr. Olgierd Górecki, a faculty member at the University of Łódź, Departament of Law and Administration, had discovered this site dedicated to A. J. Nock and was writing to ask for help in locating a copy of Nock’s book-length essay, Henry George.
Dr. Górecki wrote that in 2013 he had published a book about Herbert Spencer’s political thought and now he is writing his next book dedicated to Albert Jay Nock.
I don’t own a copy of Henry George, and it took me a few days to begin digging. (I was just completing the publication of my own most recent book, Cold Morning Shadow.) Today I began searching the internet in earnest for Dr. Górecki, and I was able to locate:
- two original copies of the 1939 book on Amazon for $135 each
- an intriguing site, which I will explore more fully, with an essay about Henry George
- a site with a the complete text of Henry George in PDF
I replied to his email with all three of these leads and a copy of the PDF files containing the complete text. I was pleased with this encounter because it is refreshing to know that someone, somewhere (Poland!) is still examining and reporting on the work of Nock.
Monday, July 1, 1968 — reprinted from the Foundation for Economic Education
Mr. Silia, a member of The Nockian Society, is a free-lance writer and poet.
Occasionally the smoke-screen generated by public opinion polls, manipulated news media, and other socio-political forms of gamesmanship tends to daunt even the most ardent proponent of liberty. For we are all human, and yield at times to discouragement.
However, it is during such times that we should try to marshall our inner strength and re-examine our outer goals, for things are not always what they seem. It is, therefore, in our own best interest, as well as the interest of liberty, not to judge by appearances, but in terms of the realities involved.
But how to distinguish one from the other, you ask? Perhaps Albert Jay Nock, founder and editor of the old Freeman, has the best solution.
For example, in his classic essay, “Isaiah’s Job,” Nock made it abundantly clear that his goal was not to convert the masses to any particular philosophy.
“The mass-man,” wrote Nock, “is one who has neither the force of intellect to apprehend the principles issuing in what we know as the humane life, nor the force of character to adhere to these principles steadily and strictly as laws of conduct; and because such people make up the great, the overwhelming majority of mankind, they are called collectively the masses.”
So, Nock’s duty as he saw it was to tend the Remnant, those unique individuals who had, or were willing to develop, the necessary insight and ability to understand and employ ideas on liberty. In distinguishing them from the masses Nock noted: “The line of differentiation between the masses and the Remnant is set invariably by quality, not by circumstance. The Remnant are those who by force of intellect are able to apprehend these principles, and by force of character are able, at least measurably, to cleave to them. The masses are those who are unable to do either.”
So Nock’s primary purpose, then, was not to alter public opinion, manipulate news, or convert others to his way of thinking. He merely sought to improve himself and thereby become ever more capable of furnishing other seekers with the inspiration and insight which might further their own personal unfoldment. His job, in short, was to be a sort of catalytic agent for the Remnant.
Knowing beforehand that the masses were not to be transformed or converted, Nock did not become discouraged in his task of servicing the Remnant. And once you clearly see his point you will understand its soundness.
In other words, if your goal is to reform the world to your liking, you are slated for failure from the outset. For that task is impossible — as well as unnecessary. But if your goal is to reform yourself, and incidentally present the truth as you know it to others, then you cannot fail.
Whether anyone accepts the ideas you present is immaterial to your goal. Even though you may convert no one, you still improve society by improving one of its units — yourself.
Nevertheless, you can be sure that your self-improvement will attract the Remnant’s attention, although you may not be aware of it. Or as Nock said, “… in any given society the Remnant are always so largely an unknown quantity. You do not know, and will never know, more than two things about them: first, that they exist; second, that they will find you. Except for these two certainties, working for the Remnant means working in impenetrable darkness.”
This, then, was Nock’s job. It is likewise the job of all those who are interested in promoting the cause of liberty. And to them, Nock offers this bit of encouragement: “If, for example, you are a writer or a speaker or a preacher, you put forth an idea which lodges in the Unbewusstsein of a casual member of the Remnant and sticks fast there. For some time it is inert; then it begins to fret and fester until presently it invades the man’s conscious mind and, as one might say, corrupts it. Meanwhile, he has quite forgotten how he came by the idea in the first instance, and even perhaps thinks he has invented it; and in those circumstances, the most interesting thing of all is that you never know what the pressure of that idea will make him do.”
This endeavor will, of course, strike a responsive chord only in those rare individuals who are ready to work for the Remnant.
by David A. Woodbury, 10 December 2018
I suspect that a single-payer medical insurance system could work. I suspect, however, that it will be a Pigrolet version of government-run medical insurance that will be thrust upon us in the not-too-distant future. I suspect, I’m sad to say, that it will be a fiscal and practical failure of colossal and damaging proportions, precisely because its designers will have, as their objective, not the success of the program but their own political gain, the avoidance of blame, and the skewering of their rivals. And yet, I say that I suspect such a system could work if Congress had the will to do it right. Let me explain how.
Let’s first make clear who’s the payer in the term, single-payer: taxpayers.
Right now we have a mob of payers, or as many of us experience it, payment-avoiders: for-profit insurance companies, not-for-profit insurance companies, state governments administering Medicaid, the federal government administering Medicare and military medical benefits, and ourselves individually when all of those to whom we have paid taxes and premiums run and hide from the bill.
The single payer almost by definition would be the federal government, using money that it will either collect in taxes or using loans that it will commit our great-great grandchildren to pay.
Here are twelve changes to the current mess that would need to be accomplished, fully and resolutely, in order to have any chance of success.
1. At the outset, fully cover only the medical interventions that keep people alive. For everything else including prescriptions, let the plan offer a portion of the cost from, say, 50-99%. Since we already have the precedent of requiring all Americans to purchase a product from a private company and calling the cost of it a tax, let those medical needs that fall outside the scope of life-saving be covered by a required policy for less-than-urgent care. If a government-run single-payer system delivers the savings and efficiencies and medical wonders that its proponents envision, then, in time, use those savings and efficiencies to bring more services and treatments under the fully covered list.
2. Let a panel of doctors determine what will fall under the life-saving level of coverage. Let another panel of doctors prioritize less-than-urgent medical care as well, and how such measures might gradually be added to the fully-covered list over time, as savings and efficiencies make that possible. Remove all incentives for these panels to save money by denying care; their decisions are strictly medical and patient-focused. They will be able to recognize that what is merely desirable for one patient is life-saving for another because individual patients have unique vulnerabilities. Nowhere does this point include politicians, insurers, lawyers, or the IRS in any panel of doctors.
3. Let the federal government provide the money, but let private companies, not an army of new federal employees, administer it under contracts with the federal government. By “administer it” I don’t mean “decide whether Janet’s E.R. visit was justified” — that is up to the doctors in the previous section, speaking for the country as a whole — but let private companies manage the record-keeping, and while they’re at it, the electronic medical records. Companies that already have the system in place to administer insurance for which they currently collect the premiums might transition readily to keeping records only and not handling the money.
4. Relieve employers of the expectation to provide group medical insurance — group rates will become obsolete under a single-payer system anyway. For employers who therefore will no longer be funding a portion of medical insurance, arrange that those savings will either be converted to other employee benefits over time or added to a company’s tax burden, in either event to be phased out just as employers are no longer tasked with providing stables for employees’ horses.
5. Get the for-profit insurance companies out of medical underwriting, premium administration, and determining appropriateness of care. Let them collect profits on their automobile and home policies, business underwriting, and all the rest. This is necessary for two big reasons: There is no excuse for transferring taxpayer money to private profits in the name of medicine, and to let insurers profit from taxpayers only “proves” that Congress is owned by corporate America. Yes, there are examples of companies that do profit from government contracts, Defense Department contracts being the most recognizable examples, however there is nothing so mysterious about the concept of insurance that it justifies seven-digit executive salaries at taxpayer expense. Under a government-funded program they will be tasked with keeping records and could, as well, be the best resource for keeping electronic medical records that are instantaneously available to all doctors.
6. Get the lawyers out of medicine. This is the most radical requirement. They will rise up in protest, but I doubt anyone can show me another country in the world where the lawyer class is so comfortably supported by people who require medical care. For, no matter who a lawyer works for under the umbrella of medicine, it is the sufferer who ultimately pays. Whether employed by hospitals, specialty practices, pharmaceutical companies, equipment manufacturers and importers, insurance companies, tort practices, or government agencies dedicated to assuring “compliance,” lawyers in the industry can only be supported by those who pay insurance premiums or taxes, and to a minor degree, by foundations providing charitable funding and university medical centers supported by tuitions and benefactors (charity again). Those are the only sources of money coming into medicine. Supposedly, lawyers oversee everyone’s work the better to protect us. But the regulations that have made them ubiquitous are tantamount to requiring a traffic policeman on every corner of every intersection in the country. We don’t need that much watching.
7. Combine all programs into one. Entrenched federal agencies will scream in agony and rage at the idea. But chaos is assured in a transition to a single-payer system if Medicare remains distinct, both in name and practice, from Medicaid, from Champus, from Veterans Administration programs, and all the rest. Indeed, from my ample experience, the way the Veterans Administration provides medical care is an example for the rest to follow. Since health insurance portability is moot for someone covered by the VA, apparently HIPAA (health insurance portability) does not apply. Under a single-payer system, HIPAA will become obsolete. During VA visits, am I not inundated with demands to sign copies of that grossly-misnamed Advance Beneficiary Notice, not to mention all the privacy notices and lists of my rights that I must endure in civilian office and hospital visits. And the VA is clearly not intimidated by the assumed secrecy provisions of HIPAA. Yes, basic privacy protocols are observed, but the concept has not been turned into a requirement to speak in coded whispers.
8. Start small, as detailed in the first point, and call the fully-funded part of it, for instance, Part A; but also require minimum coverage at each citizen’s own expense for additional needs, and call it Part B. Everyone is covered 100% for life-saving interventions — no co-pay, no premiums. For each citizen who asserts an inability to afford the premiums of Part B, reduce that individual’s reverse income tax (welfare benefits) by the amount of the unaffordable premium. This has already been put into place under the Affordable Care Act. Medicare and Medicaid currently recognize the totally disabled and make allowances, and these allowances need to remain in place. There is a difference, though, between a person who is totally inconvenienced — for instance, one who won’t pull himself up by his own bootstraps, and a person who is totally disabled — for instance, one who was born without bootstraps.
9. Place all citizens, including all government employees, military personnel, and members of Congress, under the same system with no special privileges. And what applies in Poughkeepsie, New York, applies in Muleshoe, Texas, and in Kailua, Hawaii, and in Dothan, Alabama, if for no better reason than that people travel and people move and need to rely upon rules that apply equally to all of us.
10. Continue to permit private pay and private doctors for anyone who can afford to arrange it, as it currently exists in a few instances. If a rock star or movie mogul wants to put a private doctor on his staff, let them. Such a person must also participate in the single-payer system as well but is not required to use the same doctors if he can afford to own one. Also, respect the town here and there that has hired a community doctor where the citizens of the town have pooled their resources to engage one. Members of such a community must likewise participate in the single-payer system as well, but they must not be forbidden to provide themselves with other options.
11. Allow all citizens to participate at the same level of premiums and care, that is, do not penalize those who have assets. A single-payer system must not be a ruse by which to seize private property. Medicaid has become just such a system, to the extent that people avoid enrolling because it means losing their homes and their meager personal assets. Just as the premium tables under the present system make no distinction whether the participant earns $50,000 a year and has no assets or earns $900,000 a year and has a portfolio worth millions, so it must be under a single-payer system. It must, to the greatest degree possible, divide the total cost of everyone’s care as evenly as possible among all participants without regard for ability to pay. The ability to pay, or lack of ability to pay, must be dealt with separately. This point is fundamental, because the temptation will be strong to sock it to the rich. Insurance of every type is originally something that people would buy, if they chose to, in order to reduce the financial burden arising from an unexpected, sometimes catastrophic event. Conceptually, medical insurance is the same, but differs from all other types only by its emphasis on saving one’s life. Since medical science has made that all the more realistic in my lifetime, and since that objective has become exceedingly important to most people not just for themselves but on behalf of everyone else, and since some level of medical care, although not even vaguely delineated, is now sometimes demanded as a “right,” it needs to be the objective of adopting a single-payer system to achieve a basic level of coverage for everyone, not to use the process to fundamentally transform the United States of America. (Disempowering and disemprivileging certain populations — insurance companies, lawyers, and members of Congress — who should never have acquired their present levels of power, may seem like it is fundamentally changing the country, but the country will not suffer if those groups are humbled to more closely resemble the rest of us.)
12. Fund the system with a national sales tax that covers only the system and make it pay for itself. Since the so-called income tax has become a wealth redistribution system, funding a single-payer medical insurance system through the IRS needs to be avoided altogether. (Medicare taxes, collected through employers since 1966 and now standing at 2.9% of income, would become obsolete.) People with low incomes don’t buy a lot of stuff, so their contribution by way of a sales tax would be self-limiting, while people with high incomes do spend it, even if they merely use their buckets of money to buy stock. Tax their stock purchases, then. (Leave IRA and similar retirement plan contributions alone. The national sales tax will hit those funds when they are actually spent in later years.) Funding a single-payer system with a national sales tax makes it easy to determine whether the system is paying for itself, and if it is not, then Congress can raise the sales tax until it does. Make it pay for itself and make it pay only for itself, make its accounting transparent, and don’t use the sales tax for other pet political schemes.
There is more to my wish list than these criteria. These, though, are the necessities for any hope of success, and any attempt at creating a single-payer medical insurance system which omits any of these requirements will fail with the drama and suffering of an airplane crash in a residential neighborhood. Perhaps someone else could suggest a few more absolute requirements that I would agree with. I don’t harbor any delusions, though, that Congress will act with the resolve necessary to make it work.
Since we’ve now been living with the global warming story for 30 years, it might seem hard to believe that science could now come up with anything that would enable us to see that story in a wholly new light. But that is what I am suggesting in a new paper, thanks to a book called Groupthink, written more than 40 years ago by a professor of psychology at Yale, Irving Janis. What Janis did was to define scientifically just how what he called groupthink operates, according to three basic rules. And what my paper tries to show is the astonishing degree to which they explain so much that many have long found puzzling about the global warming story.
The conservative answer to liberal prohibition (oxymoron?) is to “arm and train the teachers.” While no one has come out and suggested mandating teachers carry firearms or be trained in using them, every suggestion seems to suggest “we” (i.e., the government) need to do the arming and training. Here’s a little newsflash for both sides: the teachers are already armed.
by Jarrett Stepman
Following the  presidential election, numerous stories surfaced about how “fake news” influenced the results. This prompted a reaction from the media and a concerted effort by the social media giant Facebook to crack down on the phenomenon—announcing that it would in part by using fact-checkers to distinguish the “real” from the “fake” news.
Americans have been better at finding the truth than less free societies.The truth is that while the American media landscape has been in a constant state of change over two centuries, the spread of hyperpartisan, scurrilous, and even phony news stories has been more common than uncommon throughout the history of the republic.
Ultimately, despite the increasingly Wild West state of journalism, Americans have been better at finding the truth than less free societies.
The media response frames the fake news issue as nearly the single greatest threat to democracy in our time. But despite the worries that surround an uptick in fraudulent news, the phenomenon is nothing new, nor does it particularly portend dark times in America’s future.
The overreaction in response, potentially damaging both the right to free speech and a culture that supports it, may be more dangerous to a free society.
‘Dupes of Pretended Patriots’
The idea that the press could try to deceive rather than enlighten readers was not lost on the Founders. In the years before and after the American Revolution there was an explosion of printing presses throughout the Western world as improved printing technology was becoming widely available.
Journalists and pamphleteers were certainly vital to spreading the ideas of American rebellion against the English—names like Thomas Paine and Samuel Adams were nearly synonymous with the American Revolution, and they certainly weren’t alone. Though propaganda and distortion of the news were common as well.
After America gained independence, there were still huge numbers of scribblers writing about news and politics with varying levels of credibility and accuracy.
When the framers of the Constitution met to discuss the construction of the new government at the Constitutional Convention in 1787, freedom of the press and what it would mean for the future of the country was certainly on their minds.
Many Founders fretted about what the proliferation of false or destructive notions would mean for the idea of democracy and a society of mass political participation.
Massachusetts delegate Elbridge Gerry lamented how the people in his home state were being led astray by false stories from malcontents and manipulators.
“The people do not want [lack] virtue, but are the dupes of pretended patriots,” Gerry said. “In Massachusetts it had been fully confirmed by experience, that they are daily misled into the most baneful measures and opinions, by the false reports circulated by designing men, and which no one on the spot can refute.”
So what did the Founders do to stop this problem? They created a system of government that would allow room for democracy, yet checked its vices: through institutions like Congress, the constitutional amendment process, and division of power between branches of government as well as the states and federal government. Not to mention the Electoral College, which the modern left now decries as unfair and undemocratic.
Unfortunately, some of these checks have been eroded over time and continue to be undermined. For instance, the 17th Amendment forced states to elect senators through a popular vote rather than have the state legislature choose a representative, which has reduced the power of the states in the American system.
And in some states, like California, the requirement to pass a constitutional amendment is simply 50 percent of the vote plus one, yet again increasing the chance that a temporary excitement of the populace can lead to rapid, negative changes in governance.
The weakening of the structural checks on democracy has been the greater threat of fake news’ proliferation than nonsense peddlers themselves.
Tocqueville on the ‘Liberty of the Press’
The years following the founding saw a booming and free-wheeling publishing industry, unimpeded by the licensing and restrictions common in other countries. It was not only the Founders who understood the trade-offs between a free press and misleading news. Alexis de Tocqueville, the famed French observer of American life, wrote about the freedom of the press in his 1835 book “Democracy in America.”
Tocqueville noted that when he arrived in the U.S., the very first newspaper article he read was an overheated piece accusing then-President Andrew Jackson of being a “heartless despot, solely occupied with the preservation of his own authority” and a “gamester” who ruled by corruption. This type of account was not unusual.
The years following the founding saw a booming and free-wheeling publishing industry, unimpeded by the licensing and restrictions common in other countries. Freedom allowed newspapers to proliferate throughout the United States in a highly decentralized way.
And in early American history, most newspapers were expressly partisan or outright controlled by individual politicians. They often aggressively attacked and made outrageous comments about political opponents.
Yet Tocqueville wrote that despite the general vehemence of the press, America was further from actual violence and political revolution than other societies that tightly controlled information.
While recognizing the occasional problems of an unimpeded fourth estate, Tocqueville wrote that “in order to enjoy the inestimable benefits that the liberty of the press ensures, it is necessary to submit to the inevitable evils that it creates.”
An attempt to submit “false” news and opinions through an official fact-checker would likely only elevate and perhaps justify a false opinion in the minds of the people, according to Tocqueville.
He continued to write that expecting to have the good of a free press without the bad has been “one of those illusions which commonly mislead nations in their times of sickness when, tired with faction and exhausted by effort, they attempt to make hostile opinions and contrary principles coexist upon the same soil.”
Americans were so used to being bombarded with opinions and information from a diverse media, Tocqueville wrote, that they were less likely to react to falsehoods and outrageous opinions.
Fake News existed in that time as well as ours, but it did little to outright convince people to change their views. This continues to be the case today.
Tocqueville concluded of a free press:
When the right of every citizen to a share in the government of society is acknowledged, everyone must be presumed to be able to choose between the various opinions of his contemporaries and to appreciate the different facts from which inferences may be drawn. The sovereignty of the people and the liberty of the press may therefore be regarded as correlative, just as the censorship of the press and universal suffrage are two things which are irreconcilably opposed and which cannot long be retained among the institutions of the same people.
The visiting Frenchman understood what Americans have almost always believed. Occasional false news stories cannot destroy a society fitted for liberty, but extreme efforts to contain them will.
The Search for Truth
The reality is, barriers to prevent modern Americans from receiving “fake news” are unlikely to succeed in a free society where a mass of information is readily available.
The internet, and a lack of trust in the legacy media, has allowed numerous new media publications to find success. It has again radically decentralized the way Americans get their information.
These legacy media organizations are attempting to reign in the chaos with new gimmicks like fact-checkers, but ultimately their influence and credibility are fading in the minds of Americans as fewer people trust or desire to read those sources.
This isn’t an anomaly in American life—it has been the norm. We must trust and maintain the mediating constitutional system the Founders created along the judgment of the American people.
The freedom of the press, enshrined in the First Amendment and tempered by institutions designed to slow governmental change and thwart temporary excitements of opinion, created a nation incredibly free, yet robust enough to withstand potential large-scale errors in judgment.
The Founders understood that the good would outweigh the bad with a free press, and no court could justly measure the rightness or wrongness of news and public opinion. They realized that without allowing the press to operate freely and leaving the people as its ultimate tribunal, America would never truly be a land of liberty.
Fake or biased news was the willingly paid price of an open society, and the winnowing process of the American system ultimately leads the country toward the truth.
This piece ran on DailySignal
Jarrett Stepman is an editor for The Daily Signal
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.
Introduction to Selected Works of Artemus Ward
Albert Jay Nock — 1924
Charles Farrar Browne, known to the world as Artemus Ward, was born ninety years ago1 in Waterford, Maine. He died at an age when most of us are only beginning to mature—thirty-three. Little more can be told of him by way of formal biography. Mr. Don C. Seitz2 lately employed himself upon a labour of love by seeking out and publishing all that is known, probably, of the externalities of Ward’s life. Mr. Seitz has made the most of what was put before him, and in so doing he has done good service to the history of American letters; yet one closes his fine volume with a keen sense of how little he had to do with, a sense of the slightness and insignificance of his material. All Ward’s years were Wanderjahre;3 he had no schooling, he left a poor rural home at sixteen to work in neighbouring printing-offices; he tramped West and South as a compositor and reporter; he wrote a little, lectured a little, gathered up odds and ends of his writings and dumped them in a woeful mess upon the desk of Carleton, the publisher, to be brought out in two or three slender volumes; he went to New York, then to London, saw as much of collective human life in those centres as he had energy to contemplate; he wrote a few pages for the old Vanity Fair and for Punch, gave a few lectures in Dodworth Hall on Broadway and Egyptian Hall on Piccadilly; and then he died. Little enough of the pars magna fui4 is to be found here for the encouragement of a biographer; Mr. Seitz, I repeat, is to be congratulated on his intrepidity. It is surely a remarkable thing that one whose experience was limited by the span of thirty-three years, whose literary output was correspondingly scanty, and whose predicable hold upon the future was as slight and hazardous as Mr. Seitz shows Ward’s to have been, should have managed to live nearly a century; and it is perhaps more remarkable that he should have done it in a civilization like ours, which is not over-careful with literary reputations and indeed does not concern itself deeply with spiritual achievement or spiritual activity of any kind.
Yet that is what Artemus Ward has somehow managed to do, and Mr. Seitz is on hand with a bibliography of eighteen pages, closely printed in small type, to prove it. Some measure of proof, too, is probably to be found in the fact that a new issue of Ward’s complete works came out in London two years ago,5 and that an American firm has taken thought to publish this present volume. How, then, has Ward contrived to live so long? As a mere fun-maker, it is highly improbable that he could have done it. Ward is officially listed as the first of the great American humorists; Mr. Albert Payson Terhune even commemorates him as the man “who taught Americans to laugh.” This is great praise; and one gladly acknowledges that the humorists perform an immense public service and deserve the most handsome public recognition of its value. In the case of Ward, it is all to Mr. Terhune’s credit that he perceives this. Yet as one reads Ward’s own writings, one is reminded that time’s processes of sifting and shaking-down are inexorable, and one is led to wonder whether, after all, in the quality of sheer humorist, Artemus Ward can quite account for his own persistent longevity. In point of the power sheerly to provoke laughter, the power sheerly to amuse, distract and entertain, one doubts that Ward can be said so far to transcend his predecessors, Shillaber and Derby. In point of wit and homely wisdom, of the insight and shrewdness which give substance and momentum to fun-making, it would seem that Ward’s contemporary, Henry W. Shaw, perfectly stands comparison with him. The disparity, at all events, is by no means so obvious as to enable one to say surely that the law of the survival of the fittest must take its course in Ward’s favour. One is therefore led to suspect either that Ward’s longevity is due to some quality which he possessed apart from his quality as humorist, some quality which has not yet, perhaps, been singled out and remarked with sufficient definiteness, or else that it is due to the blind play of chance.
Several considerations tell against the hypothesis of accident. It might be enough to say flatly that such accidents do not happen, that the passing stream of printed matter is too full and swift to permit any literary flotsam to escape being caught and swept on to oblivion by its searching current. Two other considerations, however, may be remarked as significant. First, that Ward very soon passed over — almost immediately passed over, the transition beginning even in the last few months of his life — passed over from being a popular property to become a special property of the intelligent and civilized minority; and he has remained their special property ever since. In his quality of humorist he could hardly have done this. Even had he really been the man who taught the Americans to laugh, disinterested gratitude could hardly be carried so far. Artemus Ward himself declined to weep over the memory of Cotton Mather, saying simply that “he’s bin ded too lengthy”; and such, more or less, are we all, even the intelligent and civilized among us. Ward was, in his time, a popular property in virtue of his singularly engaging personality, his fine and delicate art as a public speaker and his brilliant dealing with questions and affairs of current interest. But his presence is no longer among us, and the affairs of profoundest public interest in his day are hardly as much as a memory in ours. No power of humour in dealing with those affairs could serve to continue him as a cherished property of the intelligent, any more than it could serve to restore him as a popular property now that those affairs, and the interest that they evoked, have disappeared. His continuance must be accounted for by another quality than those which he shared with his predecessors and contemporaries who have not taken on a like longevity.
The second consideration is that Ward has always been the object of a different and deeper regard in England, where his humour is alien, than in America where it is native. It has long been difficult to get a copy of his complete works in this country, even at second hand; the last edition was published by Dillingham in 1898. In London one buys them over the counter, and I think one has always been able to do so. Since the Dillingham edition, Ward has been kept alive in America chiefly in edited issues like Mr. Clifton Johnson’s, of 1912, and this present volume; and also in anthologies and in essays by many hands. These have, however, I think invariably, presented him as a humorist, and without taking account of the quality which has given his work the vitality that it seems to possess. The English writers have done, on the whole, rather better; but even they did not strike straight through to this quality, disengage it from those that made up his strictly professional character, and hold it out in clear view; though there is evidence that they themselves had glimpses of it. They were for the most part content, like Ward’s own countrymen, to accept him as a humorist and to assume that he kept his place in literature on the strength of his humour; and they were not aware, apparently, that this assumption left them with a considerable problem on their hands. Mr. Seitz quotes Ward’s own view of the quality that gives power and permanence to his work — I too shall quote it presently, as it is admirably explicit — and oddly enough, without perceiving that it leaves him with a considerable problem on his hands; a problem which, if he had attended to it, might have caused him to change the direction of about three-fourths of his book.
No, clearly it is not by the power of his humour that Ward has earned his way in the world of letters, but by the power of his criticism. Ward was a first-class critic of society; and he has lived for a century by precisely the same power that gave a more robust longevity to Cervantes and Rabelais. He is no Rabelais or Cervantes, doubtless; no one would pretend that he is; but he is eminently of their glorious company. Certainly Keats was no Shakespeare, but as Matthew Arnold excellently said of him, he is with Shakespeare; to his own degree he lives by grace of a classic quality which he shares with Shakespeare; and so also is Ward with Rabelais and Cervantes by grace of his power of criticism.
Let us look into this a little, for the sake of making clear the purpose for which this book is issued. I have already said that Ward has become a special property, and that he can never again be a popular property, at least until the coming of that millennial time when most of our present dreams of human perfectability are realized. I have no wish to discourage my publishers, but in fairness I have had to remind them that this delectable day seems still, for one reason or another, to be quite a long way off, and that meanwhile they should not put any very extravagant expectations upon the sale of this volume, but content themselves as best they may with the consciousness that they are serving a vital interest, really the ultimate interest, of the saving Remnant. Ward is the property of an order of persons — for order is the proper word, rather than class or group, since they are found quite unassociated in any formal way, living singly or nearly so, and more or less as aliens, in all classes of our society — an order which I have characterized by using the term intelligence. If I may substitute the German word Intelligenz, it will be seen at once that I have no idea of drawing any supercilious discrimination as between, say, the clever and the stupid, or the educated and the uneducated. Intelligenz is the power invariably, in Plato’s phrase, to see things as they are, to survey them and one’s own relations to them with objective disinterestedness, and to apply one’s consciousness to them simply and directly, letting it take its own way over them uncharted by prepossession, unchanneled by prejudice, and above all uncontrolled by routine and formula. Those who have this power are everywhere; everywhere they are not so much resisting as quietly eluding and disregarding all social pressure which tends to mechanize their processes of observation and thought. Rabelais’s first words are words of jovial address, under a ribald figure, to just this order of persons to which he knew he would forever belong, an order characterized by Intelligenz; and it is to just this order that Ward belongs.
The critical function which spirits like Ward perform upon this unorganized and alien order of humanity is twofold; it is not only clearing and illuminating, but it is also strengthening, reassuring, even healing and consoling. They have not only the ability but the temper which marks the true critic of the first order; for, as we all know, the failure which deforms and weakens so much of the able second-rate critic’s work is a failure in temper. Take, for example, by way of a comparative study in social criticism, Rabelais’s description of the behaviour of Diogenes at the outbreak of the Corinthian War, and put beside it any piece of anti-militarist literature that you may choose; put beside it the very best that M. Rolland or Mr. Norman Angell or even Count Tolstoy himself can do. How different the effect upon the spirit! Or again, consider in the following pages the pictures which Ward draws of the village of Baldwinsville under stress of the Civil War. Not one item is missing of all that afflicted the person of Intelligenz in every community at some time in the last ten years. Ward puts his finger as firmly as Mr. Bertrand Russell and Mr. H. L. Mencken have put theirs, upon all the meanness, low-mindedness, greed, viciousness, bloodthirstiness and homicidal mania that were rife among us — and upon their exciting causes as well — but the person of Intelligenz turns to him, and instead of being further depressed, as Mr. Russell and Mr. Mencken depress him, instead of being further overpowered by a sense that the burdens put upon the spirit of man are greater than it can bear, he is lifted out of his temporary despondency and enervation by a sight of the long stretch of victorious humanity that so immeasureably transcends all these matters of the moment. Such is the calming and persuasive influence of the true critical temper, that one immediately perceives Ward to be regarding all the untowardness of Baldwinsville sub specie aeternitatis,6 and one gratefully submits to his guidance towards a like view of one’s own circumstances.
The essential humanity of Abraham Lincoln may be largely determined in one’s own mind, I think, by the fact that he made just this use of Artemus Ward. Mr. Seitz tells us how, in the darkest days of the Civil War, Lincoln read the draft of his Emancipation Proclamation at a special meeting of his Cabinet, and, to the immense scandal and disgust of his associates, prefaced it by reading several pages from Ward. The incident is worth attention for the further establishment of the distinction drawn among men by the quality of Intelligenz. Seward, Chase, Stanton, Blair, had ability, they had education; but they had not the free, disinterested play of consciousness upon their environment, they did not instinctively tend to see things as they are, they thought largely by routine and formula, they were pedantic, unintelligent — that is precisely the word that Goethe, the greatest of critics, would have applied to them at once. Upon them then, naturally, Lincoln’s performance made the impression of mere impudent levity; and thus one is directly led to see great force in Ward’s sly suggestion that Lincoln should fill up his Cabinet with showmen! Alas! how often the civilized spirit is moved to wish that the direction of public affairs might be taken out of the hands of those who in their modesty are fond of calling themselves “practical” men, and given over to the artists, to those who at least have some theoretical conception of a satisfying technique of living, even though actually they may have gone no great way in the mastery of its practice.
In another place Mr. Seitz tells us how the great and good John Bright, the Moses of British political liberalism, attended one of Ward’s lectures in London, sat gravely through it, and then observed that “its information was meagre, and presented in a desultory, disconnected manner”! The moment I read that, I laid down the book, saying to myself, Behold the reason for liberalism’s colossal failure! The primary failure of liberalism is just the failure in Intelligenz that we see so amusingly indicated in the case of Mr. Bright; its secondary failure, as we saw in the case of the late Mr. Wilson, for example, is a failure in the high and sound character that depends so largely upon Intelligenz for its development. Can one imagine that Ward would be more intelligible to representative British liberals since Bright’s day, or that he would make a more serious and salutary impression upon the energumens who in this country are busily galvanizing some of Mr. Wilson’s political formulas into a ghastly simulacrum of life, and setting them up as the soul and essence of liberalism — upon ex-Justice Clarke, for example, or ex-Secretary Baker or Mr. George Foster Peabody? One smiles at the thought of it.
Ward said of writers like himself that “they have always done the most toward helping virtue on its pilgrimage, and the truth has found more aid from them than from all the grave polemists and solid writers that have ever spoken or written… They have helped the truth along without encumbering it with themselves.” I venture to italicize these remarkable words. How many good causes there are, to be sure, that seem hopelessly condemned and nullified by the personality of those who profess them! One can think of any number of reforms, both social and political, that one might willingly accept if only one need not accept their advocates too. Bigotry, arrogance, intolerance, self-assurance, never ran higher over public affairs than in Ward’s day, yet he succeeded in putting upon all public questions the precise critical estimate that one puts upon them now in the perspective of fifty years; its correspondence with the verdict of history is extraordinarily complete. It would be nothing remarkable if one should arrive now at a correct critical estimate of the Negro question, for example, or of the policy of abolition, or of the character and qualities of public men of the day, or of the stock phrases, the catchwords and claptrap that happened for the time being to be the stock-in-trade of demogoguery; but it is highly remarkable that a contemporary should have had a correct critical estimate of them, and that he should have given to it an expression so strong and so consistent, and yet so little encumbered with himself as to be wholly acceptable.
Really, there are very few of the characteristic and distinctive qualities of American life that Ward’s critical power left untouched. I read somewhere lately — I think in one of Professor Stuart P. Sherman’s deliverances, though I am not quite sure — that Americans are just now very much in the mood of self-examination, and that their serious reading of novelists like Mr. Sinclair Lewis or Mr. Sherwood Anderson, and of essayists like Mr. Ludwig Lewisohn or Mr. Mencken, is proof that they are in that mood. I have great doubts of all this; yet if it be true, I can but the more strongly urge them to re-examine the work of a first-rate critic, who fifty years ago drew a picture of our civilization that in all essential aspects is still accurate. Ward represents the ideal of this civilization as falling in with one only of the several instincts that urge men onward in the quest of perfection, the instinct of expansion. The claim of expansion is abundantly satisfied by Ward’s America; the civilization about him is cordial to the instinct of expansion, fosters it, and makes little of the obligation to scrupulousness or delicacy in its exercise. Ward takes due pride in relating himself properly to the predominance of this instinct; he says that by strict attention to business he has “amarsed a handsum Pittance,” and that when he has enough to permit him to be pious in good style, like his wealthy neighbours, he intends to join the Baldwinsville church. There is an ideal of civilized life for you, a conception of the progressive humanization of man in society! For the claim of instincts other than the instinct of expansion, Ward’s America does nothing. It does nothing for the claim of intellect and knowledge (aside from purely instrumental knowledge) nothing for the claim of beauty and poetry, the claim of morals and religion, the claim of social life and manners.
Our modern school of social critics might therefore conceivably get profit out of studying Ward’s view of American life, to see how regularly he represents it, as they do, as manifesting an extremely low type of beauty, a factitious type of morals, a grotesque and repulsive type of religion, a profoundly imperfect type of social life and manners. Baldwinsville is overspread with all the hideousness, the appalling tedium and enervation that afflict the sensitive soul of Mr. Sinclair Lewis. The young showman’s courtship of Betsy Jane Peasley exhausts its resources of romance and poetry; its beau ideal of domesticity is completely fulfilled in their subsequent life together — a life fruitful indeed in certain wholesome satisfactions, but by no means such as a “well-formed mind would be disposed to relish.” On the side of intellect and knowledge, Baldwinsville supports the editor of the Bugle as contentedly as New York supports Mr. Ochs and Mr. Munsey, and to quite as good purpose; it listens to the school-master’s views on public questions as uncritically as New York listens to Mr. Nicholas Murray Butler’s, and to quite as good purpose. Baldwinsville’s dominant type of morals is as straitly legalistic, formal and superficial as our own; its dominant type of religion is easily recognizable as the hard, dogged, unintelligent fanaticism with which Zenith confronted Mr. Sinclair Lewis. We easily recognize the “dissidence of Dissent and the protestantism of the Protestant religion,’; which now inspires the Anti-Saloon League, and which informs and animates the gentle ministrations of the Ku Klux Klan.
Thus Ward, in his own excellent phrase, powerfully helps along the truth about civilization in the United States; and all the more powerfully in that, unlike Mr. Lewis and Mr. Mencken, he does not so encumber it with himself, so overload it with the dragging weight of his own propensities, exasperations, repugnances, that his criticism, however accurate and interesting, is repellant and in the long run ineffectual. Often, indeed, his most searching criticism is made by indirection, by the turn of some phrase that at first strikes one as quite insignificant, or at least as quite irrelevant to any critical purpose; yet when this phrase once enters the mind it becomes pervasive, and one finds presently that it has coloured all one’s cast of thought — and this is an effect which only criticism of the very first order can produce. For instance, consider the first sentence that he writes in a letter to his wife from the Athens of America:
Dear Betsy: I write you this from Boston, ‘the Modern Atkins’ as it is denomyunated, altho I skurcely know what those air.
Nothing but that. Yet somehow when that little piece of exquisite raillery sinks in, it at once begins to put one into just the frame of mind and temper to meet properly the gentle, self-contained provincialism at which it was directed. Let the reader experiment for himself. Let him first recall the fearfully hard sledding he had on his way through, say, Mr. Barrett Wendell’s History of American Literature, or the recent volume of Mrs. Field’s reminiscences; let him remember the groan of distress that now and then escaped him while reading Mr. Howells’s really excellent novel, The Rise of Silas Lapham. Then with this sentence in mind, let him try reading any one of the three books again, and see how differently it will impress him.
After the same fashion one may make quite good headway with Mr. Villard’s biography of John Brown if one’s spirit is cleared and steadied by Ward’s inimitable critique of “Ossawatomie Brown, or, the Hero of Harper’s Ferry.” Amidst the squalor of our popular plays and popular literature, one preserves a decent equanimity by perusing Ward’s reviews of East Side theatricals and of Forrest’s “Othello,” and his parodies of the cheap and lurid romances of his day. Our popular magazines take on a less repellant aspect when one remembers how, after three drinks of New England rum, Ward “knockt a small boy down, pickt his pocket of a New York Ledger, and wildly commenced readin Sylvanus Kobb’s last Tail.” No better criticism of our ludicrous and distressing perversion of the religious instinct can be found than in his account of his visit to the Shakers, the Free Lovers and the Spiritualists. Never was the depth and quality of routine patriotism more accurately measured than by this, from the account of his visit to Richmond after the surrender:
I met a man today — I am not at liberty to tell his name, but he is an old and inflooential citizen of Richmond, and sez he, “Why! weve bin fightin agin the Old Flag! Lor bless me, how sing’lar!” He then borrer’d five dollars of me and bust into a flood of tears.
Again, how effective is Ward’s criticism of the mischievous and chlorotic sentimentalism to which Americans seem invariably to give their first allegiance! During the Civil War the popular regard for motherhood was exploited as viciously as during the last war, or probably in all wars, and Ward’s occasional reflections upon this peculiarly contemptible routine-process of militarism are more effective than any indignant fulminations of outraged common sense; as when he suggests, for instance, that “the song writers air doin’ the Mother bisness rayther too muchly,” or as when in another place he remarks that it seems about time somebody began to be a little sorry for the old man. He touches another fond topic of sentimentalism in his story, which I must quote, of leaving home as a boy to embark in the show business. Where can better criticism than this be found?
You know, Betsy, that when I first commenced my career as a moral exhibitor with a six-legged cat and a Bass drum, I was only a simple peasant child — skurce 15 summers had flow’d over my yoothful hed. But I had sum mind of my own. My father understood this. ‘Go,’ he said, ‘Go, my son, and hog the public!’ (he ment ‘knock em, but the old man was allus a little given to slang). He put his withered han’ tremblingly onto my hed, and went sadly into the house I thought I saw tears tricklin down his venerable chin, but it might hav’ been tobacker juice. He chaw’d.
But I must end these illustrations, which I have been tempted perhaps unduly to multiply and enlarge upon because their author has never yet, as far as I am aware, been brought to the attention of modern readers in the one capacity wherein he appears to me to maintain an open communication with the future — the capacity of critic. In conclusion I cannot forbear remarking the spring, the abounding vitality and gusto, that pervades Ward’s work, and pointing out that here too he is with Rabelais and Cervantes. The true critic is aware, with George Sand, that for life to be fruitful, life must be felt as a joy; that it is by the bond of joy, not of happiness or pleasure, not of duty or responsibility, that the called and chosen spirits are kept together in this world. There was little enough of joy going in the society that surrounded Ward; the sky over his head was of iron and brass; and there is even perhaps less joy current in American society now. But the true critic has his resources of joy within himself, and the motion of his joy is self-sprung. There may be ever so little hope of the human race, but that is the moralist’s affair, not the critic’s. The true critic takes no account of optimism or pessimism; they are both quite outside his purview, his affair is one only of joyful appraisal, assessment and representation.
Epitaphs are notably exuberant, but the simple line carved upon Ward’s tombstone presents with a most felicitous precision and completeness, I think, the final word upon him. “His name will live as a sweet and unfading recollection.” Yes, just that is his fate, and there is none other so desirable. Mansueti possidebunt terram,7 said the Psalmist, the amiable shall possess the earth; and so, in the long run, they do. Insight and wisdom, shrewdness and penetration — for a critic these are great gifts, indispensable gifts, and the public has regard for their exercise, it gives gratitude for the benefits that they confer; but they are not enough of themselves to invest a critic’s name with the quality of a sweet and unfading recollection. To do this they must communicate themselves through the medium of a temper, a prepossessing and persuasive amiability. Wordsworth showed himself a great critic when he said of his own poems that “they will co-operate with the benign tendencies in human nature and society, and will in their degree be efficacious in making men wiser, better and happier”; and it is just because of their unvarying co-operation with the benign tendencies in human nature and society that Ward’s writings have made him in the deepest sense a possession, a cherished and ennobling possession, of those who know him.
1 – 1834; 2 – Don Carlos Seitz; 3 – German: years of wandering; 4 – Latin: the great part; 5 – For a collection of works by Artemus Ward, see Project Gutenberg; 6 – Latin: literally, “under the aspect of eternity”, or that which is universally and eternally true; 7 – Latin: The gentle shall inherit the earth.
by Joey Clark
I made a promise to myself before the beginning of the 2016 Presidential cycle that I would not support anyone for President, and I am happy to report I have remained true to my promise. Honestly, this has been easy to do because, in my heart of hearts, I forever hope no one will be President, and I have once again been greatly disappointed.
Dare I say, I would love to see America made great again! Yet, my heart also prods me to remain part of the Great American conversation. Consider me akin to those two old men from The Muppet Show, Statler and Waldorf, sitting in a theater box watching the American political arena. I’m not happy with what I see, but I still show up day after day in my usual curmudgeonly way. I am truly a disinterested party when it comes to supporting one president over another.
However, despite this aloof pose, I do love my fellow Americans and hope to see this dear nation of ours flourishing and prosperous once again. I do have hope for the future of America — that she will serve as a beacon of liberty for all the world to emulate.
Dare I say, I would love to see America made great again!
Yet, since I am not a supporter of Mr. Trump, consider me a neutral third party. Consider me a wise fool here to serve you, “the people,” a fellow traveler ready to provide counsel come what may. Thus, from this neutral place — with love for you and contempt for presidential ambitions — I feel obliged to advise those of you supporting Donald J. Trump.
Guard Your Heart
Yes, you and Donald may be having fun for now — the wining and dining, the guarantees of big walls and big hands, the appointments, the interviews, the speculation, the promise of a happier future together — but there are red flags galore.
So, please, guard your heart.
I do not expect many of you to follow my advice. That’s the thing with being in love — it turns us absolutely dense and quick to play fast and loose with the truth and our well-being. “When one is in love,” writes Oscar Wilde, “one always begins by deceiving one’s self, and one always ends by deceiving others,” and this is especially true of the love between the politician and the crowd.
Crowds of all stripes are notoriously more idiotic and immoral than the average person, but a crowd head-over-heels in love with a political leader? Well, such a throng is usually downright dangerous, deceptive, and dimwitted, despite the intelligence and talents of the individuals who constitute it. Crowds give us the cover we need to act like total imbeciles, and democracy gives us a pass to act like petty little tyrants.
One by one, the citizens fool themselves each election cycle that a certain politician will be a president representative of their interests, and then they proceed to fool their neighbors just the same. Their tragedy is usually getting what they want.
Yet, the crowd’s collective responsibility under democracy is really no responsibility at all. There is too much moral hazard built into the system whereby all claim to take the blame without ever personally doing so. Therefore, I suspect you will not listen to my advice. I fear, if you are to learn at all, you will have to learn the hard way.
A Tragic Love Story
So, allow me to provide the moral of your political love story with Mr. Trump before it ends. I’ll do so by way of example. It is the story of a young woman who fell in love with Obama in 2008. The young woman’s name is Carey Wedler, and in March of 2014, she posted a video that went absolutely viral. As of this writing, her video has been viewed 1,869,263 times.
From the outset, Carey appears on screen wearing an “Obama is my homeboy” t-shirt only to admit she was one of Obama’s most “hysterical supporters.” She then displays a photo of her on the night Obama was elected, wearing the shirt and “shedding a tear of euphoria” because she thought “history had been made.” Carey tells us that after a couple years and a little bit of research, she discovered Obama had “become exactly like the George Bush” she “used to so vitriolically hate.” She then proceeds to indict Obama’s abysmal human rights record along with other failures.
The video then takes a dramatic turn.
After telling us she felt personally betrayed by Obama, Carey proceeds to strip off her Obama t-shirt, takes out a butane torch, and lights the shirt on fire!
And now, I can’t help but ask: will Make America Great Again go up in flames just like Hope and Change?
How many of you will feel betrayed and heartbroken by Donald Trump a few years into his tenure just as Carey felt betrayed by Obama? Will it be a few burning candles in the night, or a raging bonfire fueled by millions of hats, shirts, and signs?
“We’ll see,” says the Zen master.
But again, guard your heart. I’m not asking you to stop supporting Mr. Trump, but to check your expectations. Take the orange billionaire off the pedestal.
If you choose to not heed my advice, well, that is your liberty. But that brings us to the tragic moral of most political love affairs.
As Carey Wedler says at the end of her video:
Now Barack, I can admit that I probably hated you more than I needed to once I found out what a scam you were. I hated you more than I hated George Bush because I felt personally betrayed by all the lies that you told. But really, I should thank you now, because a few years out from realizing what a scam you were, I understand that it’s not just you… it’s the institution of government that is the problem. It doesn’t matter what political party is in office. It doesn’t matter if it’s a liberal or conservative or you or George Bush or anyone else who will run for President… it’s the institution of government that is violent and forceful and coercive and kills people and subjects them to will with a force… this government that you are currently at the head of (but really it doesn’t matter who is) is strictly violative… it only restricts the potential of humanity…
The Government Is the Problem
Put simply, the moral of the story is this: government is the problem. You shouldn’t put your hopes and dreams in the State, else prepare for a broken heart. It’s not about kicking the establishment bums out, and putting in new people. No, the problem is the government itself.
The government is not “us.” Each election season, we tend to stop seeing this truth. We start seeing personalities. We start seeing the other side who wants to take power over us, so we fight back, thinking we have found a new champion for our cause. So, as you get caught up in the promises of power and your worry about the future of your nation, neighbors, and culture, just remember “we” are not the government. The government is not “us.”
Government is something wholly separate from us, and as much we would like to think we can control this wild elephant by hopping on its back and tugging at its ears, this behemoth is much more prone to trample upon our livelihoods and liberties than ever protect us.
I suppose we must have a president, but I am not convinced this is actually fact. So as you go forth supporting Donald J. Trump, just remember to guard your heart.
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.