Never Mind...

The Wipers Times, student-style. This was inspired by a notice in my kitchen, and is just a bit of fun. Enjoy!

If your chip pan catches fire... never mind.
And your face may lose its smile... never mind.
The insurance covers a tot, but not the bleeding lot,
If your chip pan catches fire... never mind.

When your student finance runs out... never mind.
And your face may lose its smile... never mind.
Though the banks may hue and cry, and you still have books to buy,
If your student finance runs out... never mind.

If you have lectures at 06:30... never mind.
And your face may lose its smile... never mind.
Though at least you're out of bed, not a word sticks in your head,
If you have lectures at 06:30... never mind.

The Father of History?

In his book 'Ancient Athens on Five Drachmas a Day', Philip Matyszak describes the two earliest historians in the following terms:

When war comes, Thucydides will unsuccessfully command troops in this area [Thrace] against the great Spartan general Brasidas. Thereafter he will turn his skills to chronicling the ebb and flow of the fortunes of Athens in its contest with Sparta and her allies. To do this, he will essentially have to invent the craft of writing history.

It is worth noting at this point that Herodotus, who we encounter below, is commonly cited as the Father of History, so Matyszak's claim that Thucydides invented the craft is quite iconoclastic.

His famous predecessor in the field is Herodotus, a writer of the previous generation, whose History is a rag-bag of anecdotes, myths and travellers' tales. As a historian Herodotus meanders happily through his collection, getting side-tracked into endless digressions, yet always emerging triumphantly with the thread of his narrative.

This is not an opinion shared by R.G. Collingwood, who explains in his classic publication 'The Idea of History' that

The greatness of Herodotus stands out in the sharpest relief when, as the father of history, he is set against a background consisting of the general tendencies of Greek thought. The most dominant of these was anti-historical ... because it involved the position that only what is unchanging can be known. Therefore history is a forlorn hope, an attempt to know what, being transitory, is unknowable. But ... by skilful questioning, Herodotus was able to ... attain knowledge in a field where Greeks had thought it impossible.

Not quite the tavern storyteller of Matyszak's narrative. By contrast, Collingwood considers Thucydides in markedly less favourable terms:

[A]fter him [Herodotus] the search for unchangeable and eternal objects of knowledge gradually stifled the historical consciousness, and forced men to abandon the Herodotean hope of achieving a scientific knowledge of past human actions. The difference between the scientific outlook of Herodotus and that of Thucydides is hardly less remarkable than the difference between their literary styles. The style of Herodotus is easy, spontaneous, convincing. That of Thucydides is harsh, artificial, repellent.

Admittedly the latter observation is purely the opinion of the author. But he continues:

In reading Thucydides I ask myself, What is the matter with the man, that he writes like that? I answer: he has a bad conscience. He is trying to justify himself for writing history at all by turning it into something that is not history. ... Thucydides is not the successor of Herodotus in historical thought

(a point, at least, upon which the two authors would seem to be in agreement)

but the man in whom the historical thought of Herodotus was overlaid and smothered beneath anti-historical motives.

So, on the one hand we have the opinion that Herodotus was a writer of amusing stories, learned from the people he encountered on his travels but not subjected to any kind of critical analysis, and on the other we have the more recognisable standpoint that Herodotus was a thinker of specific genius, who stood alone amid ancient Greek thought in his attempts to compile an accurate narrative. Equally, we have a description of Thucydides as a scientific thinker and innovative developer of an entirely new field, rubbing shoulders with the opinion of him as a mimic, trying to imitate the brilliance of his predecessor but falling short under the weight of contemporary thought. But who is closest to the truth?

One important factor is defining what we are to understand by scientific history. The development of this brand of history has been attributed again to both Herodotus and Thucydides. It is my opinion that both parties are correct. To clarify: Herodotus was the first to employ a critical approach to his use of sources, cross-referencing and questioning each informant extensively in order to make his narrative as coherent as possible. Thucydides, however, was the one to dispose of the inclusion of mythological factors as explanations for human phenomena.

George Orwell: An Author of Talent and Versatility

George Orwell

I would expect that almost anyone in Britain has, at one time or another, read Orwell’s work.  Perhaps you studied ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’ at school, or else have been moved to read his political essays.  Maybe you had simply heard his name, and wanted to see what all the fuss was about.  For whatever reason, most people have read at least some Orwell in their lifetime.

Such widespread popularity is testament to his skill as a writer, for people would not still be reading his work now, seventy years on, if it was not worth it.  I myself have recently come into possession of a copy of ‘Animal Farm’, and look forward to adding to it to my repertoire.

One of the things that makes him such an appealing author is his range of subjects.  Most of his work has political undertones, but the surface topic varies quite radically.  The English language, for instance, is one of his favourites, and can be found in the same book as an essay on ‘Shooting an Elephant’, from 1936.

His depth of feeling is another.  Orwell, I think it is safe to say, does not emote by halves.  It is impossible to read a single page of his work without stumbling over some adjective or verb which instils the reader with a powerful mental image, and an understanding of the situation described as few writers are capable of creating.

In addition, the imagery in Orwell’s writing is spectacular.  One of his expressed ‘rules’ is that an author ought to ask himself, “Is this image fresh enough to have an effect?”  To this end, he often invents new metaphors, to fit the situation he is describing.  For instance, in his essay ‘Politics and the English Language’, he says:

...an accumulation of stale phrases chokes him like tea leaves blocking a sink.

Or, to take a more affecting example, in ‘Down the Mine’ there appears the phrase:

…the unending rattle of the conveyor belt, which in that confined space is rather like the rattle of a machine gun.

Such terms as the above cannot help but move the reader to emotion, which is, of course, his precise aim.

George Orwell causes one to feel, to sympathise, to become enthralled in his writing until the only possible source of satisfaction has become the turning of the page.  Such an ability is, in a writer, invaluable, but is rarely seen performed with such skill.  That is why he is such a popular author, even so long after the public were first exposed to his works.  He manages to create an intimacy between author and reader that could only be replicated by, say, a fireside chat in winter, and at the same time causes one to think in ways that one has never before even considered.  In short, George Orwell remains popular because he performs exactly as an author should.

The Atomic Conscience: Should physicists feel responsible for the bomb?

The iconic 'mushroom cloud'

I have been reading the excellent book, 'Brighter than a Thousand Suns', and this is what came of it.  Just imagine, for the moment, that this is the 1940s, and my chosen topic is therefore still something of a contentious novelty...

Should Faraday, if he had lived impossibly long enough learn of it, have felt himself responsible for the electric chair?  Of course this analogy is not a perfect one, because at the time of development, there was no suggestion that the electrical current might be used as an implement of torture.  In this, Faraday is like Hahn; a scientist whose early work with radioactivity revealed the astonishing power in the heart of an atom.

But, what of the other atomic physicists, working for the US government at the ‘atomic cities’ during WWII?  They knew that their work was intended for the ‘war effort’, and that as subsidiaries of the US military, they would not necessarily be able to limit the use of their creations to the purely peaceful.  In spite of this, many still consented to work on the bomb.

However, they cannot, surely, be held wholly responsible for their actions?  The majority of employees at Los Alamos, for instance, were unaware toward what goal they were working.  In addition to this, even the scientists who did know about the proposed atomic bomb were, like almost all of the world at that time, swept up in feelings of patriotic duty and national pride.  These emotions led them to make judgements which would normally be out of character for them, and which many later regretted.

One way of dealing with this regret was, for atomic physicists in particular, to protest against the use of this new source of immense energy to destructive ends.  These objections became especially loud following the detonation of the atomic bomb over Hiroshima, and again upon the development of the ‘H-bomb’.  Were these men genuinely repenting for their perceived ‘sins’, or was it a case of playing to the public?  I am given to suspect the former.  Assuming that I am correct, however, it still remains to say whether their conscience came too late into action – a question for those better placed to judge their fellow man than I, I feel.

It must be remembered, in the midst of such a smorgasbord of inner turmoil and public expressions of guilt, that emotions have no real impact upon past actions.  The apologies of these physicists are gratifying, yes, but they do not change the fact that the same men knowingly developed, as only they could, the means of constructing a more powerful bomb than had ever been seen.  They knew that their work would be used by the military, and – barring a very small number – they continued anyway.

Perhaps the most satisfactory conclusion to draw is that the atomic scientists of that war were indeed responsible for their respective parts played in the production of such a deadly and inhumane weapon.  However, their regret that they were party to such an act seems genuine, and in this case, they ought perhaps to be afforded the benefit of the doubt.  It is my belief, therefore, that these men should be held responsible for their actions, and subsequently forgiven for them.

To reach, to dream, to learn...

The 'Discovery' prepares to boldly go...

It is, to my mind, quite obvious that to learn can only be a good thing.  Perhaps your teacher does have one of those voices that sends you to sleep, and it may well be Friday afternoon.  But those things are insignificant when weighed alongside the benefits of a cherished education.  I confess that it is nigh impossible for me to comprehend the mindset of those who literally abhor that intellectual journey (to succumb to cliché) whose destination is the acquisition of beautiful, powerful knowledge.

For one thing, is it not obvious even to the people who do not, somehow, enjoy learning that it is a profitable enterprise?  Invest in your mind, and the final result will pay sizeable dividends.  Moving on from a metaphor founded in my limited understanding of the world of ‘stocks and shares’, I should like to reiterate plainly that learning pays.  It is a statistical probability that individuals who are educated to a higher level will secure employment with better salaries.  Of course, this is not always the case, but the odds are highly favourable.

Additionally, learning can be a real pleasure.  Quite aside from the fact that a better education is financially advantageous, the process of learning itself can, along with the resultant possession of knowledge – the real global currency – be a genuine joy.  I, certainly, love to delve into the seldom-trodden lands whose murky secrets are concealed between crisp, sharp pages and nestled in the protective arms of a reassuringly predictable dust-cover.  Who would refuse such a chance?  To step in the footsteps of truly great people, heroes, icons, without ever having to abdicate one’s armchair...  The concept itself, of vicarious discovery, is quite spectacular, and made all the more so for its accessible simplicity.

Clearly, then, we can see how to learn is (to issue a drastic understatement) a good thing.  A solid education can set you in good stead for the rest of your life, not to mention the potential it offers for an enjoyable experience from an almost inexhaustible source; human imagination, wonderful in its ingenuity, shall go on dreaming for as long as the species survives, and so long as there are people to dream they will record their fantastical wonderings.  Thus, inexhaustible.

Perhaps you remain unconvinced?  Surely this is all posturing, showy glitter and bravado to sway you toward my own indulgence?  Perhaps – but I do not think so.  Humans have evolved a delicate language, hiding behind cruder utterances the finer nuances and elegance offered by an array of tongues that is possibly the most spectacular achievement of our juvenile species... But that is a matter for discussion at another time.  My point stands that we are the commanders of a stunning tool, a perfect contradiction of one of its most skilled wielders; Mr. Oscar Wilde.  “...beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins.”  To make reference to a moderately popular current panel show, this is, in fact, a lie.  It is in our very natures to communicate knowledge of value to one another, and if every eventuality is considered then only one conclusion can possibly be reached: All knowledge is valuable, and it stands to reason therefore that we ought really to share in it.

All men (and women, for all you feminists out there!) as equals, intellectually matched and engaged in the creation of a world order that may at least attempt to fulfil the ambitious ideals of the global population.  This, surely, would be “the best of all possible worlds”?  Aware as I am of the inherently flawed nature of our volatile species and the tempestuous heart of each individual who forms its ranks, I am made also unhappily conscious of the fact that this dream, magnificent though it may seem, is terribly unlikely to come to fruition.  But, perhaps if everyone at least tried...

It is with this ponderous contemplation that I must conclude, but I do urge you to think on it carefully.  It is true, what I say.  Knowledge is, as the old adage goes, truly the source of all power – and this must be gained by learning.  Learning is the way of this species, and it takes only the realisation of this reality to benefit from its validity.  Good day.

Dogmatic Potential

Science v. Religion

Dogma; perhaps one of mankind’s most quoted faults, is really simply further evidence in support of human ingenuity.  How else could anyone- as so many do on a daily basis- go on expounding nonsensical hypotheses or soothsaying portentous omens, if not by the good grace of their clutching imaginations and fantastical (conveniently unfalsifiable) beliefs?

It must be mentally exhausting to have continually to justify one’s opinions as incontrovertible fact, yet still millions of tiny, steadfast human beings cling to a mantra inherited from ages of greater ignorance than this in the ultimately futile hope that it harks back to the wisdom of a time when many lived in unadulterated bliss.

Is it not inspiring, to see the absolute devotion and unswerving determination our species is capable of?  Now, imagine that same force dedicated to scientific advancement – the spectacles and fanciful speculations of science fiction would be surely left far behind, gasping admiration in the dusty wake of our achievements.