Two stories of secluded life

From the latest LRB: Graham Greene is staying in a leper colony in the Congo:

We tried to protect Greene from people’s curiosity. The most obvious nuisances were those who wanted his opinion on some manuscript they had in a drawer. The number of people in a colonial town looking for a publisher is amazing. They usually showed up after five o’clock, ‘just to have a beer’. We were well rehearsed. As soon as a car was spotted turning off the road and into the long alley of palm trees, Greene would rush into the house, jump through our bedroom window, and out into the forest.

Not really on the same level, but in case any of you are worrying what life is like in Saffron Walden — and people at the Guardian always say to me that they are considering moving out here — the local paper today has on its front page a story which could be boiled down to three words. “Dog Bites Cat”.

But what a production it gets from the steam! “Pet cat left for dead after Savage Attack”. The most admirable thing of all, is the ending, where neighbours cower in fear:

“This is a quiet cul de sca sac and nothing like this has happened in the 27 years we’ve lived here. But now everything’s changed. We have around 20 cats here, and their owners now know they’re at risk of being savaged by Smokey’s killer.”

Posted in Literature | 1 Comment

Pick of the week, haha

I have never managed this before, but a bit of the programme I made with Louise has made this week’s Pick of the Week, a collection culled from everything on BBC radio. So that’s very chic. Tune in for little fluffy clouds, with scarlet speckles. The whole programme should have been up on Listen Again but it isn’t and the system seems to be broken this week.

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Losing his religion

I have been meaning to write about this for ages wrt Steve Bates, but there is a (too) long piece in the LA Times (via Pharyngula) by their former religion correspondent explaining why he gave up the business after losing his faith — he had wanted the job in the first place because he was himself an evangelical Christian who felt that his people were traduced by the mainstream media.

The last straw was the decision of a judge not to enforce a decent child support settlement against a Roman Catholic priest, who claimed that, as a servant of Jesus, he owned nothing except his clothes and thus could not pay for food or medicine for his son. Remember, this is the States, where medicine, at least, is not guaranteed for the poor.

The judge ruled in the favor of Uribe, then pastor of a large parish in Whittier. After the hearing, when the priest’s attorney discovered I had been there, she ran back into the courtroom and unsuccessfully tried to get the judge to seal the case. I could see why the priest’s lawyer would try to cover it up. People would be shocked at how callously the church dealt with a priest’s illegitimate son who needed money for food and medicine.
My problem was that none of that surprised me any more.
As I walked into the long twilight of a Portland summer evening, I felt used up and numb.
My soul, for lack of a better term, had lost faith long ago — probably around the time I stopped going to church. My brain, which had been in denial, had finally caught up.
Clearly, I saw now that belief in God, no matter how grounded, requires at some point a leap of faith. Either you have the gift of faith or you don’t. It’s not a choice. It can’t be willed into existence. And there’s no faking it if you’re honest about the state of your soul.
Sitting in a park across the street from the courthouse, I called my wife on a cellphone. I told her I was putting in for a new beat at the paper.

I don’t myself know any religious correspondent whose faith has survived writing about it — possibly some of the more radically pessimistic Catholics, but even there I am not sure. Sufficiently sophisticated magic is indistinguishable from truth.

The most one can believe is that some of these deluded people are doing better, both for themselves and for the world, than they would be without their delusions. This is quite enough to keep me from full-on pharyngular atheism. I don’t think human nature is modular enough that you can simply swap out the delusional bits, and leave the rest intact. Believing fewer false things is a very long struggle. Journalism teaches you that, too, if you want to learn it.

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A thought on history

The point of history is surely, still, to discover what actually happened but the past can only be understood if we know what actually didn’t happen. People’s actions, their understandings of the world, can only be understood in the light of what they expected from it; though these expectations were almost certainly wrong, and, in after life shaming and embarrassing, they have to be reconstructed if we are to understand human history. Short form: all hopes, all fears, entail false beliefs.

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Lost history

I keep by my bed, as an antidote to hopes of progress, a volume of the Cambridge Modern History dealing with the Thirty Years’ War. It wouldn’t be an antidote if I were certain that we had left these times behind. In any case, it is worth re-learning how it was that Europe invented the idea of religious tolerance, and why much of Germany stayed a poverty-stricken wasteland for the next 200 years.

In particular, anyone who supposes that there is something uniquely Islamic in the combination of militarism, religious fanaticism, and brutal bureaucratic efficiency should study the history of the Swedish Empire. Between 1618 and 1658, Swedish armies marched all over Germany, Poland, and beyond. They besieged Prague and Lwow Their courage, endurance, and brutality are all hard to believe — I liked the throwaway line that “In the earlier stages of the enterprise the famous Swedish discipline had been maintained, and the hanging corpses of some 500 mercenaries marked Wittenberg’s route”.

But the story I learned this morning was something I am astonished not to have known before — how the Kattegat got two sides. I had known, of course, that the southern provinces of Sweden, below the great forests of Småland, used to be Danish. Skåne still looks and sounds that way. But I assumed they had been conquered from the North, where the rest of Sweden is, and I had wondered, I suppose, why the war had stopped so close to Copenhagen.

In fact, Skåne is Swedish because of the Little Ice Age. When the Danes declared war on an over-extended Sweden in 1657, Charles X of Sweden had just finished a siege of Lwow, in the Western Ukraine. He marched back from Brecz to Warsaw, and then across Northern Germany to Hamburg, where he turned north up into Jutland. There he found himself an his armies trapped: the Danish Navy controlled the sea, and his enemies were approaching from the South.

[UPDATE] Wikipedia has an article which appears to be lifted, all but the last sentence, from the old Britannica. So far so good. However, where the Cambridge History has “Brecz” as the town from which he started, whicvh Google Maps seems to think is “Blecz” the Wiki/Britannica article has Bydgoczsz. Are these the same place? Will any devoted listener to Radio Marija come to my aid?

Charles X was rescued by the unusually terrible winter. On 30th of January he marched his entire army over the sea-ice to the island of Fyn, something so reckless it had been thought impossible. Two squadrons of cavalry went through the ice, along with his own carriage and that of the French ambassador (spare a thought for the ambassador, sent out to a court, and finding himself on a campaign of suicidal lunacy). But the rest of the army made it to the island and sacked it.

Still, Fyn is a small island, and he remained trapped there. So, starting on the fourth of February, he did it again, marching successively across the ice through all the smaller islands of the Belt. The one thing that everyone knows who lives in countries where lakes freeze in winter is that ice is dangerous over running water. The ice across which he led his army lay over the outflow of the Baltic to the North Sea, which has huge, deep currents that made building modern bridges dangerous and difficult. A thaw could have drowned the whole army. But the cold held. He arrived at the walls of Copenhagen to find the enemy suing for peace.

At the ensuing peace of Roskilde, Sweden won from Denmark the provinces of its south and West coasts: Halland, Blekinge, Skåne, Bohus (which the Cambridge History spells Båhus) and two mountainous provinces on the Norwegian border — Jämtland and Härjedalen — as well as the useful town of Trondheim, which soon revolted. Why not more? Because the Dutch and the British were determined to partition the Kattegat, so that no one country would control both shores, and be able to tax or choke off the Baltic trade at will. When Charles tried to grab the rest of Denmark later, it was the Dutch and British fleets who enforced the terms of Roskilde: he died, aged 37, in Gothenburg, preparing for a war on Norway.

Posted in God, Sweden | 1 Comment

Before I forget

Svenska Dagbladet reports — though I can’t find it in the current PNAS — that researchers at the Karolinska, working with a team in Florida, have managed to reverse Alzheimer’s disease in mice by combining stem-cell transplants into the brain with a course of Fenserin, a chemical already known to slow the development of amyloid plaques.

The science isn’t terribly clear from the article, and I don’t have time to pursue it right now. It says the results are published in PNAS. They’re not in the current issue, is all I can say. Perhaps an embargo has been jumped. In any case, the news line is strong: “Swedish and American researchers have found a combination of drug treatment and cell transplants which stimulates neurogenesis.”

This could be huge news, so I jot it down here in the knowledge that I will have forgotten all about it by lunchtime.

Posted in Science without worms | 1 Comment

This one’s for the vicar

A testimony from the Onion.

Posted in Blather | 1 Comment

Assorted Comedies

On the one hand, the New York Times reports on a porn star becoming an Episcopalian priest
Fr. Rod Fontana has a certain ring to it, no?

(UPDATE: It turns out this story is false in almost all the interesting particulars. Jan Nunley made the phone calls. I will be interested to see whether it is, despite that, reported as fact in tomorrow’s English broadsheets.)

On the other hand. Lukas Moodysson’s “Together” is funny in very much the same way because all the actors are so serious all the time. Can’t be too highly recommended.

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Don’t Feed the Boars

You might think that the moral of a story coming out of Sweden would be “Don’t feed the trolls”, but, no: according to the Hallands Post there is a problem with the wild boars that are re-establishing themselves in the forests of southern Sweden: the hunters put out food for them, and then they get tooth decay from eating Danish pastries which people throw away.

(The idea isn’t to shoot them while they are eating but to help the through the winters. Even this backfires to some extent, because the well-fed mothers give birth too early in the springtime and their piglets freeze)

Posted in Blather, Sweden | 1 Comment

security horrors

Trillian, IE, and Firefox all turn out to be vulnerable to nasty attacks which will take some months to fix. I was particularly horrified by the fact that the authors have encoded an entire Google page into an URL — it doesn’t lead there: it just causes Firefox to generate a picture of the page. Also, the Trillian exploit does work. Click on the URL and pwnd.bat really does get written to your system.

Urgh.

UPDATE: Rafe Coburn explains how this works.

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