Kerry in Philadelphia

Just because I lack credentials for the convention up in Boston (unlike my fellow Swat alum Jesse Taylor of Pandagon) doesn't mean I can't do a bit of political blogging.

Earlier this evening, John Kerry spoke on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

Much of Kerry's speech focused on American values, and he insisted that actions reflect values far more than words and outlined the actions that he plans on taking if elected. You can read the details of his platform at Kerry's website, but here's a quick rundown of the topics he covered today:

- The war on terror. Kerry vowed to make America stronger at home and more respected in the world. He believes that America should only go to war when it needs to, never when it just wants to. When force is needed, he will not hesitate to use it.

- Loss of jobs overseas. Kerry plans to end tax subsidies to companies who shift their labor forces overseas.

- Healthcare. Kerry wants all families to have healthcare that's just as good as that enjoyed by Washington, D.C. politicians, "the best in the world."

I, for one, would have appreciated a deeper exploration of Kerry's policies, but rallies aren't really the place for that. The principles were on display today, and they were principles I can get behind.

As for the presentation...

John Kerry is no Bill Clinton. But you already knew that. But I was pleasantly surprised at just how effective he was in presenting his message.

Four years ago I saw George W. Bush on the campaign trail in Media. John Kerry came across as far more genuine, at ease, and in touch with the crowd. It's possible (even likely) that the four years of Bush's presidency has colored my memory and cast Kerry in a more favorable light. But I can't imagine Bush responding respectfully (even jovially) to people in the crowd interrupting his speech, as Kerry did today.

The jokes were a bit dopey, but self-consciously so... at one point, in drawing comparisons between himself and John Edwards, Kerry pointed to three similarities: 1) They're both named John. 2) They're both lawyers. 3) People named John Edwards the sexiest politician in America. John Kerry reads People. Sure, you knew a cheesy punchline was coming, but so did John Kerry, which somehow makes it okay.

Kerry barely mentioned Bush. Off the top of my head, I can only recall one definite time that he actually said "Bush," though there were probably at least a few others. In any case, Kerry succeeded in presenting a positive vision for America, not just a critique of Bush's policies. He could have played to the anti-Bush sentiment rife in the crowd. He didn't.

At the beginning of his speech, Kerry admitted that he hadn't run up the Art Museum steps, but that he's going to deliver the knockout punch. If he maintains this tone and message, I think he's right.

On a final note... the rally gets bonus points for reminding me how fantastic "Johnny B. Goode" is.

Confederate widow false alarm

So it turns out that Alberta Martin, who passed away at the end of May, was not the last surviving widow of a Confederate soldier.

Right around that time, I was getting a lot of hits for "last confederate widow," so I figured I'd do a google search now to see where I came up. Still fairly high.

But the interesting thing was this Washington Times article documenting another living Confederate widow. Maudie Cecilia Hopkins of Lexa, Arkansas, married William M. Cantrell of the Virginia Infantry in 1934. At the time, Cantrell was 86, Maudie Cecilia Acklin, 19.

Accordiing to the article, Hopkins "remains quite unimpressed by her historical status, which to her is simply a long-ago part of her life." This is, as far as I'm concerned, as it should be. There's far more to her life than a short (3-year) marriage to a man almost seventy years older than her. While her connection to the Civil War is interesting, it's really no more than an historical quirk, in this case brought to light because of the publicity surrounding Alberta Martin.

What is noteworthy about the "discovery" of Maudie Cecilia Hopkins is how it demonstrates the haphazard nature of our knowledge of the past. For all we know, there might be a dozen surviving Confederate widows, perhaps some who had detailed conversations with their husbands about the Civil War. But we really have no way of knowing, short of exhaustive research into the post-Civil War lives of every Confederate soldier.

To be sure, "little" facts like this are far more likely to slip through the cracks of history than "big" facts like the results of presidential elections. But there's a sense in which all historical knowledge is dependent on luck. People die, records are lost. The materials historians have to work with are nowhere near complete. There are some interesting implications to this, implications I plan on teasing out in that post I've been promising to write for months now. At least I've started writing it now...

A brief baseball note

For what it's worth, Baseball Prospectus currently ranks the Phillies' Ryan Madson as the best reliever in baseball.

And yet... the Phillies still have Paul Abbott in their rotation and are still using Roberto Hernandez in crucial situations.

When will the madness end?

Mmm... bread...

My darling girlfriend, knowing my anger at the no-/low-carb diet fad of the past few years, passed on this Boston Globe op-ed by Susan V. Seligson. Seligson's take is different from mine (which, summed up crudely, consists of, "Bread! It's so good! How could you not eat it?!?), arguing that bread is an essential component of culture all around the world. The following quote sums up Seligon's attitude towards bread:

I never tire of traveling to new places to learn how people nourish their bodies and spirits, how they rejoice, mourn, and manage in the face of adversity. The native bread teaches us these things and more. Visit a village bakery or a matron tending a clay hearth to feed her family. Watch, listen, inhale -- the bread tells the most essential human stories.

I don't have much else to say on this. The rest of the article provides rather poignant examples of just what Seligson's talking about.

Roberto Hernandez needs to go. Now.

I'm hardly the first to make this observation (for my money, the best Phillies blog out there is Bill Liming's Phillies Fan), but Roberto Hernandez should never be pitching in a situation when the game is on the line. Never.

Take tonight. The Phils' game with the Mets is tied 2-2 going into the bottom of the 11th. Hernandez comes into pitch. Let's review his performance.

First batter - Walk.

Second batter - Fly out to centerfield. This, incidentally, is the hardest hit ball of the inning.

Third batter - Single to centerfield.

Fourth batter - Walk.

At this point, the bases are loaded. There is one out. Hernandez has shown no ability thus far to control at-bats. Worse yet, the winning run is on third base. Let's count the ways the Mets can win this game: a basehit, a deep fly ball, a wild pitch, a passed ball, a softly hit ball in the infield. Let's not forget a walk. After all, Hernandez has already given out two of those in the inning.

There's not too much you can do about a wild pitch or passed ball. They happen.

There's plenty you can do about the other circumstances. In short, you want to keep the ball out of play. And not give up a walk.

Is there anyone in the Phillies bullpen who might be good for this spot? How about one Billy Wagner? You know, the guy whose average under one baserunner per inning. The guy who's striking out 12.33 batters per nine innings. The guy who gets 14 strikeouts for every walk he gives up.

Maybe you'd want him to pitch.

But apparently not. Apparently you leave in a pitcher who has demonstrated a remarkable inability to get outs. Brilliant, simply brilliant.

What happens? Hernandez gives up a hit. Actually, he had a great opportunity to get the force play at the plate. But he throws it in the dirt. More of that pinpoint control that had been on display throughout the inning.

Incidentally, there are now four teams within one game of first place in the National League East. The rest of the summer could prove rather intriguing...

UPDATE: Looks like Bill agrees with me. In far more succinct fashion.

Dan Brown doesn't know history

I just finished up Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code. The good: it's a quick, fairly engaging read. That's pretty much the extent of my positive thoughts for it. On the whole, I actively disliked it (it's a rare book that has me whining out loud its failings). Geoffrey K. Pullum provides a damning critique of the awful writing.

My concern is Brown's conception of history and historians.

My superficial complaint is about the novel's protagonist, Robert Langdon. He's first described as a symbologist. And then he's an historian. But all of his lectures are seemingly about art. So which is it? I'm all for interdisciplinary work, but disciplines do exist. Historians teach history classes. You'd think that Brown could figure this out. If he wanted Langdon to teach art history, make him an art historian. It's really not that hard.

The larger problem is Brown's incredibly naive conception of how history is produced and how historians think. This excerpt from his FAQ page on the novel is indicative:

Since the beginning of recorded time, history has been written by the "winners" (those societies and belief systems that conquered and survived). Despite an obvious bias in this accounting method, we still measure the "historical accuracy" of a given concept by examining how well it concurs with our existing historical record. Many historians now believe (as do I) that in gauging the historical accuracy of a given concept, we should first ask ourselves a far deeper question: How historically accurate is history itself?

First, the well-rehearsed notion of history being written by the winners. Once upon a time, perhaps. But not anymore. Historians (at least the good ones) aren't concerned with presenting a past that reinforces the status quo. Historians try to understand what happened, not telling the story of the winners. History from below, anyone?

Second, Brown expresses concern about measuring "the 'historical accuracy' of a given concept by examining how well it concers with our existing historical record." I'm curious. What's the alternative? As I've written about before, historians are bound by the evidence available. Does that mean historians are incapable of capturing the totality of the past? Well, yes. But that doesn't mean that historians can make stuff up. If Brown wants to present an alternative history, fine. But if you're going to treat it as history, provide some evidence. Please.

It might be possible to just ignore these problems. Dan Brown, after all, is a novelist, not an academic. But Brown presents himself as someone who has spent a lot of time thinking about history. He casts himself in the company of historians by pointing out that he, like many historians, think it's important to consider the accuracy of history itself. The implication, of course, is that there are historians who don't share this belief. If you listened to Brown, you'd think that there are plenty of historians out there who accept, without question, the findings of all previous historians.

This could not be further from the truth. Historians are trained to examine sources with a critical eye. That goes for scholarly history books just as much as primary sources like diaries and letters. Historians are willing and eager to reformulate previous conceptions of the past. For Brown to suggest otherwise is either ignorant or self-promoting.

Dan Brown's a bad writer. He's an even worse historian. Could someone please explain how his books sell so well?

The U.S. as a new Venice?

When I first saw the link for this book review, subtitled "George Washington once dreamed of turning America into a new Venice," I immediately thought of how many of the founders saw the Venetian government as the archetype of the ideal republic.*

But it turns out, according to Joel Achenbach's new book, The Grand Idea, that Washington actually envisioned an intricate system of canals "connecting navigable rivers, linking every state, city and village."

It's unclear from the review whether the Venice analogy is Achenbach's or the reviewer's (or even Washington's?). In any case, it's not very apt. Venice is famous for its canals because there's no other way to get around Venice. The city, quite literally, was built on the water. When you build haphazardly on a lagoon, waterways are going to remain. And they're not going to make sense, as anyone who's ever tried to walk around Venice knows. Just look at this map. Chaos.

Then there's the question of scale. The United States, even in the early years of the republic, was significantly larger than any European state (with the exception of Russia, of course). Venice, as the scale on the map linked above, is tiny. If you could magically walk on water (as Venetian fishermen are allegedly able to...), you could walk across the entire city in half an hour.

It's barely necessary to touch on the navigability issue. Gondolas look the way they do for a reason. You're not going to be able to ship much on one of them.** I can't imagine that's what Washington had in mind.

My suspicion is that the reviewer came up with the Venetian analogy. It doesn't fit. But it caught my eye and got me to read the review, so it did something right.

Ah, Venice.

*For my take on Venice's republicanism, see this paper.

**Besides tourists, of course.