Posts Tagged → moral

Does a book from 1840 really say don’t discuss religion or politics?

I was curious about the origin of the saying, “Never talk about politics or religion in polite company.” One of the oldest references that came up on Google was The Letter Bag of the Great Western (1840) by Thomas Chandler Haliburton. I needed to track down this book and I was in luck: there was a copy at the Toronto Reference Library in the Baldwin Collection of Canadiana. I went down a serious rabbit hole that day. Let me tell you about the best bits.

The Baldwin Collection is part of the rare book collection, housed in its own room within the library. When I entered Marilyn & Charles Baillie Special Collections Centre, I had to register to use the space. The librarian helped me fill out a request for the book. Then, I waited in the tranquil rotunda for a staff member to bring it to me.

Photograph of red leather-bound book, book jacket, slip cover, book cradle, and book weight.
Items for protecting The Letter Bag of the Great Western

The outermost layer was a slipcover, a custom-made box for the book fashioned from heavy card stock. The next layer was a book jacket. The book itself was bound in red leather. It had previously been re-bound, so the original spine and front cover were included at the end of the book.

The librarian provided a foam book cradle, so I could have the book open without damaging the spine. She also provided a book weight, a long bean bag for holding the book open gently. Even with these precautions, there were quite a few crumbs of leather on the desk by the time that I was done.

I did not have to wear gloves to handle the book. I could use only a pencil (no pens!) to take notes and I was not allowed to eat or drink.

Each chapter of The Letter Bag of the Great Western was a letter from a passenger aboard the ship. The book was… puzzling. The diction and sentence structures were foreign, not surprising given the 180 years between me and the author. But it was odd in other ways too.

For example, the book dedicated the Right Honourable Lord John Russell, who was Prime Minister of Britain at the time. Although the author didn’t know the Prime Minister, he included the tribute to make the book more marketable. He wrote:

All the world will say that is in vain for the Whig ministry to make protestations of regard for the colonies, when the author of that lively work “The Letter Bag of the Great Western,” remains in obscurity in Nova Scotia, languishing in want of timely patronage, and posterity, that invariably does justice (although it is unfortunately rather too late always) will pronounce that you failed in your first duty, as protector of colonial literature, if you do not do the pretty upon this occasion.

In the Preface, the author breaks the fourth wall and doesn’t tell us how he came into the possession of private mail.

The obvious inference is, I confess, either that the postmaster-general has been guilty of unpardonable neglect, or that I have taken a most unwarrantable liberty with his letter bag. Under these circumstances, I regret that I do not feel myself authorized, even in my own justifications, to satisfy the curious reader…

I needed more context to make sense of this book.

SS Great Western was a wooden hulled, paddle steamer that was built for the purpose of making regular crossings between Bristol and New York.

Lithograph of Great Western, which has four masts and a paddle wheel midship
The Steam Great Western by A. Robertson; Napoleon Sarony; Robinson, H. R. – http://collections.rmg.co.uk/collections/objects/148806, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=63198045

The ship was large– dangerously large, critics contended– so the crossing would be fuel efficient. It displaced 2300 tons, and was 76.8m long and 17.59m wide across the wheels. It was capable of carrying 120 passengers, 20 servants, and a crew of 60. Between 1838 and 1856, the Great Western crossed the Atlantic Ocean 45 times. The westward crossing would take 16 days and the reverse trip took about 13.4 days.

Sidebar: There was subsequently an even larger ship named SS Great Eastern, built to make regular journeys to Australia. There was a CBC radio series of the same name that purported to be aired by the Broadcasting Corporation of Newfoundland.

The author was Thomas Chandler Haliburton. He was born in Nova Scotia in 1796 and died in England in 1865. He was the first Canadian-born author to gain international renown, which is why the library had this book in their collection. Haliburton was a lawyer, judge, and member of the Nova Scotia Legislative Assembly. When he retired from law, he moved to England and while he was there he became a Member of Parliament.

Haliburton wrote both fiction (satirical sketches) and non-fiction (reports on life in Nova Scotia).

The pieces fell into place when I realized that The Letter Bag of the Great Western was a work of satirical fiction, which is completely consistent with other work by Haliburton.

This bit of insight meant that I needed to look at the suggestion to not talk about politics or religion in a different light.

The relevant letter is from “John Stager” and titled “Letter from an Old Hand.” It gives 18 tips on how to live one’s best life on the ship. To illustrate, here is Tip #1.

1st. Call steward, inquire the number of your cabin; he will tell you it is No. 1, perhaps. Ah, very true, steward; here is half a sovereign to begin with; don’t forget it is No. 1. This is the beginning of the voyage, I shall not forget the end of it. He never does lose sight of No. 1, and you continue to be No. 1 ever after; –best dish at dinner, by accident, is always placed before you, best attendance behind you, and so on. You can never say with the poor devil that was hen-pecked, “The first of the tea and the last of the coff-ee for poor Jerr-y.” –I always do this.

This is sassy writing. One can imagine this tip as part of a Mr. Bean skit or perhaps a Borat movie.

Let’s now turn to Tip #12, which mentions politics and religion, and was the original reason for tracking down this book

12th. Never discuss religion or politics with those who hold opinions opposite to yours; they are subjects that heat in handling until they burn your fingers. Never talk learnedly on topics you know, it makes people afraid of you. Never talk on subjects you don’t know, it makes people despise you…

This advice is impossible to follow. How do you learn that someone holds opinions different from yours without engaging in discussion? If you can never talk about subjects you know nor subjects you don’t know, what is left?

Haliburton is satirizing conventional etiquette. As a legislator, he no doubt had many conversations about politics. Even the dedication of The Letter Bag of the Great Western was a political gesture.

A couple of inferences can be made here. One, in 1840 the adage to never discuss politics or religion is sufficiently well known that it can be satirized. Two, the saying is worthy of being mocked, as if one can’t seriously suggest it or follow it.

And yet two centuries later, we have Miss Manners, lawyers, a business blogger, and others giving this advice seriously.

I’m going to keep digging, both backwards and forwards in time. Where did this adage come from? And what is it doing to us now?

The day spent at the Toronto Reference Library was a pleasure. There were so many books; if only we could learn from them through osmosis. It felt like time travel to touch a book that was published so long ago. It’s an inclusive space that requires neither money nor a library card for admission. It’s quiet and the librarians are here to help. The bathrooms are clean, with burly paper towels that actually dry your hands, and sharps disposal units. I’m thankful that when so much of the city feels like it is coming undone due to underfunding, we still have this oasis of knowledge and dignity.

We made the first trans woman at our church retreat cry

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. I’ve seen a lot of stories come across my social media feed this week. One of the observations was that if you don’t know any trans people, it’s probably because they don’t feel safe around you. That seems right.

I want to share with you a couple of my experiences in providing safety: one time I got it right and one time I fucked up. I realize that Transgender Day of Remembrance isn’t about me. It’s about those we’ve lost or harmed. As an ally, I’d like to add my voice to the chorus, so there aren’t so many losses.

When I lived in California, I attended a church that was “open and affirming,” which meant that we welcomed lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ+) members. We didn’t have a test of faith for membership or even tithing requirements. It was a progressive church and it’s where I learned to protest– against the war in Iraq, for Obamacare, for gay marriage– you name it. It was a comfortable moral and spiritual home for me. It wasn’t perfect, for example, on race issues, but it fed me emotionally and I needed that.

There was a young trans woman in our congregation. She joined before she started transitioning, so there was a before and an after. Let’s call her Chelsea. Her family had disowned her. She worked in a technical field, but the environment wasn’t great. She was on her own.

The church had an annual women’s retreat, where the women of the church went to a camp in the mountains for a weekend. (I don’t really know what the rest of the congregation did while we were gone. I never got to see it.) We sang, prayed, mediated, walked, talked, and ate. There’s an amazing labyrinth on the grounds for moving meditation. It was a lovely time and in two days, it we did feel like we were getting away.

On the Saturday afternoon, we were having a sharing circle. The retreat leader had given us an exercise and we were discussing our responses. Honestly, I don’t even remember the activity. We were nearly done the session when Chelsea started to cry. It started quietly, but got to the level of noisy sniffling. No ugly crying.

It was hard to know what to do. Was it something we did or said? None of us were really close to Chelsea. I was easily 10+ years older than her and the rest were even older.

When I get nervous, I tend to get quiet. I went and sat next to Chelsea. I think I touched her on the arm or shoulder. We communicated a lot with our eyes.

“Happy tears,” she said and I understood. This was her first women’s retreat. She came and she was treated the same as any other participant. The night before, we wore pyjamas together. Nobody questioned whether she should be there. She wasn’t silenced or ignored.

I’m proud of the safety that we provided Chelsea, not just that weekend, but also after. She eventually formed a chosen family with church members. When Chelsea had her gender-affirming surgery, a woman from the retreat went with her. My part in this was tiny and it wasn’t hard. But it meant a lot to someone who had experienced a lot of rejection.

So, let me tell you about a time when I didn’t make it safe for a trans man.

Several years ago in Toronto, I was teaching an undergraduate class in computer science where students had to work in teams. From my own experience, I knew that it was miserable being the only woman in a group. So when I formed groups, I made sure that there were at least two women in each group. Groups with only men were unavoidable and acceptable. To achieve this distribution, I had students fill out a form that asked a bunch of questions, including gender.

When it came time to create this groups, I didn’t have forms for every student. They could have missed the class or just neglected to fill out the form. I sometimes had to check the university database of student records or even LinkedIn. Having pronouns in your profile was not common then, so it wasn’t that helpful.

I had one particular student who answered “male” on the form that I provided. Let’s call him Tom. But in his university record, his sex was “female.” He presented as male on his LinkedIn profile. I placed him in a group as a male.

At the end of the next class, Tom came up to me and asked why I was looking at his LinkedIn profile. He was friendly and not confrontational. I said that I was trying to confirm gender for creating the groups and I was confused by the university records. You can see where this is going.

Tom was taken aback and said that it was a ridiculous mistake on the university records. I commiserated.

Later, he sent me an email. He was trans man. Although he was comfortable with his status, he told me that I should be more careful about outing people. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. He was absolutely right and I apologised.

This was a good lesson for me. I was trying to solve a problem for women and it didn’t even cross my mind how my solution would scale to transgender individuals. I think if I were doing this again, I’d be more explicit about my intentions to handle inequality and get students to help me arrive at the solution. It’s patronizing and infantilizing to do otherwise.

The second occasion happened after the first, so it’s not like I didn’t know what good looked like.

On this Transgender Day of Remembrance, I’m thinking of you, Chelsea, Tom, Tami, Hunter, Alex, Veronika, and June. Thanks for the lessons that you taught me and are teaching me about how to be a better person. I’ll still get things wrong, like pronouns and anti-oppression, but you have my support.

It’s a process and here’s what I commit to do. Be humble. Educate myself. Listen. Do my best. Expect to get things wrong. Ask for forgiveness. Accept feedback.

Sendak’s Trilogy and The Secret Life of Children


A few months ago, we started reading Maurice Sendak’s books to Lentil. We’ve had “Where the Wild Things Are” and “In the Night Kitchen” for a while, but Lentil wasn’t ready to appreciate them yet. We had read certain books over and over again, and we were ready for something new. She loved them. The stories are not at all sensible or logical, and the art is beautiful. She looked at the pictures so closely and was so quiet while I was reading. The book jacket for “In the Night Kitchen” mentions that these books are part of trilogy, according to Sendak. Since Lentil liked these books so much, I decided to hunt down the third.

The local children’s book store had not heard of this, so I turned to the Internet. So the third book is “Outside Over There.” Most of the reviews on Amazon are positive, but a few parents were horrified by the book. The plot involves a young girl has to rescue her kidnapped baby sister from goblins (who look like babies) while their parents aren’t paying attention. In the reviews on Amazon, the parents felt that the book didn’t provide reasonable role-modeling of parents and might give their children nightmares; however, they did like the Wild Things and Night Kitchen. I found this odd, because parents are entirely absent from those books, and scary things happen in those books too (Max meets monsters and Mickey is baked in a cake.)

Although the three books don’t have the same characters, the books are a trilogy because they are thematically related. According to Sendak, the books are about

how children master various feelings — anger, boredom, fear, frustration, jealousy — and manage to come to grips with the realities of their lives

A recent article in the New York Times, Maurice Sendak’s Concerns, Beyond Where the Wild Things Are mentions that Sendak had relentless nightmares about kidnapping. Sendak is also haunted by a terrible sense of inadequacy, even now as he approaches his 81. Journalist Patricia Cohen wrote:

That Mr. Sendak fears that his work is inadequate, that he is racked with insecurity and anxiety, is no surprise. For more than 50 years that has been the hallmark of his art. The extermination of most of his relatives and millions of other Jews by the Nazis; the intrusive, unemployed immigrants who survived and crowded his parents’ small apartment; his sickly childhood; his mother’s dark moods; his own ever-present depression — all lurk below the surface of his work, frequently breaking through in meticulously drawn, fantastical ways.

As children mature, it is good and appropriate for them to separate from their parents and be able to function independently. The degree of separation and independence, of course, varies with age and the personality of the child. It is fiction to suggest that a parent can be present for every moment of a child’s life. I believe that children can have complex internal lives, right before our eyes at an age much younger age than we expect. Last month on This American Life, Episode 361 entitled “Fear of Sleep” was on sleep disorders, both medical and emotional. Act IV was about a boy, Seth Lind, who saw Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining when he was six years old and had trouble falling asleep for the next two years. The horror movie particular affected him because the movie was told from the point of view of a young child. As part of the segment, Seth interviews his mother about that period of time. She had no idea that he was so tormented and recalled that he was a happy, go-lucky kid. Later in the segment, Seth is asked why he never talked to his parents about his fear of sleep. His answer was along the lines of: in the end, everyone goes to sleep and you have to deal with it on your own. At the risk of sounding cynical, I think there’s an essential truth there. We’re much better off giving children support, skills, and freedom, than attempting the impossible task of monitoring them 24/7.

Evil in the World

In Adult Sunday School, we are going through some curriculum on “Living the Questions.” The theme for this month is the question, “If God is all-powerful, all-loving, and all-good, how can evil exist?” There are a number of prompts for discussion in the material and I’ll be responding to some of them here. I’ll start with a discussion of the question itself.

I think the question starts from the wrong place. It assumes that God is in complete control of everything that happens. If this is the case, then we are simply automatons who behave in a deterministic manner. But God didn’t make us that way. We were given free will and can act any way we choose. One explanation that I have heard is that God gave us free will so that He could be loved by creations who choose to, rather than being programmed to. It is far less meaningful to hear a trained parrot say “I love you” on cue, than it is to hear a person say “I love you” with joy in his eyes.

Because God gave us free will, He doesn’t control absolutely everything. But this does not diminish his power, love, goodness, or presence in our lives. Because we have free will, we can choose good or evil. Adam and Eve were given the choice whether or not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Jesus was tempted by power and by the opportunity to turn away from ministry.

Evil is not a dark menace out in the world. Evil is a possibility in each one of us. Evil is an act that diminishes us as individuals or diminishes humanity as a whole. By using this definition, evil can be both small and big. It can be the resentment that we harbor against a fellow driver. It can be the atrocities committed by a warlord. The challenge for us as humans is to confront evil possibilities in the minutiae of daily life and turn away from it.

Suffering

Why is there suffering in the world? And where is God during suffering?

To build on what I have written above, there is suffering because an individual makes a choice to act in a manner that diminishes themselves, others, or the collective. God is present in the world, as He always is. We can turn to him for strength or we can turn away in anger. Author and Auschwitz survivor, Elie Weisel, was angry at good for a long time after World War II. But in order to be angry at God, one must a) believe that He exists and b) have a relationship with him. I am reminded of the poem Footprints in the Sand in which the protagonist sees her/his life flash before him as a series of footprints in the sand along the shore. The protagonist notices that most of the time there are two sets of footprints, but during difficult times, there is only one set. She/he confronts God about this disparity, and He replies:

The Lord replied, “My precious, precious child,
I love you and I would never, never leave you
during your times of trial and suffering.
“When you saw only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.”

If God is present in the world, does He intervene and take direct action? Sometimes. We really like it when God’s actions are undeniable and obvious. For example, Moses and the burning bush, Joshua and the walls of Jericho, and Noah. But it’s not always the way we think He does or should. For example, the maltreatment of Job. A friend suggested the idea of “severe mercy.” God’s mercy can sometimes be severe in the sense that He can use negative events in our lives to bring us closer to Him. I’m a bit uncomfortable with this idea, but it does make one wonder. Sometimes bad things just happen. Sometimes bad things are part of God’s plan. It’s hard to know.

Does Satan get a bum rap?

Definitely. Satan is a personification of evil and distracts us from the insidiousness of the evil within. It suggests that we look outward for the cause of evil (and the solutions to it). It suggests that Satan is out there in the world and leads to counterproductive ideas like demonic possession and devil worshiping. These phenomena can be explained through much simpler mechanisms, such as our own human foibles.

Satan as a personification of evil is an oversimplification. It’s an attempt to explain the world in black and white terms, with God on the side of good and Satan on the side of evil. Things are actually much more complex. There are shades of gray and marginally better or worse choices. The personification turns Satan into a fetish, like a monkey wrench thrown into the great order of things. This concept is misleading, because it causes us to not look for the evil in ourselves.

Dreamboarding, not waterboarding

I saw this post today on dreamboarding, and the first thing that I thought of was waterboarding. It turns out that the two have nothing to do with each other, except for the coincidental use of the term “boarding,” but what if…

Dreamboarding is a technique for presenting your dreams or aspirations in a visual format. Kind of like a scrapbooking/collage/dreamcatcher mash up. It’s supposed to be done to celebrate the full moon, with the hope that the dreams will come true.

Waterboarding, in the other hand, is a torture technique. I blogged about this previously, but essentially it simulates drowning by pouring water into the victim’s mouth and nose.

What if dreamboarding was a peace-building technique where you poured dreams into your enemy until they drowned in them? By immersing him or her in one’s hopes, fears, aspirations, love, joy, sorrows, and nightmares, one could win over hearts and minds, rather than alienate them. War is waged only against the “other,” that is, against those who are not one of us. There is no “them,” there is only “we.” Resources, territory, and power are not zero sum games. Peace is not just the absence of war, it’s the presence of a stable, just, and fair community of people who are fed, clothed, healthy, and sheltered.

No doubt it’s torture, says U.S. journalist after trying waterboarding

“Christopher Hitchens, a Washington-based journalist known for his support of the Iraq war and the U.S. war on terror, has subjected himself to waterboarding.”

I have often thought about what it would take to convince someone that waterboarding was torture. My idea was to make a video where babies were subject to waterboarding. Of course, some photoshopping would have to be involved.

Then there’s trying it yourself. I didn’t think that anyone would actually try this. Well-known right-wing author and journalist, Christopher Hitchens did. He’s an ardent defender of the war on terror and the Bush administration. After less than 10 seconds on the table, Hitchens now is convinced that waterboarding is torture. Kudos to Hitchens for being brave enough to try it and brave enough to change his mind. His story will appear in the August issue of Vanity Fair.