O.P. Recommends: The Many Deaths of Liberalism, by Daniel Cole and Aurelian Craiutu

‘The Liberal Deviseth Liberal Things,’ memorial at St Bernard’s Well on the Water of Leith

I read an excellent essay this morning on the nature, history, and purported death struggles of liberalism. It clarified many things for me, reminded me of others, and provided a renewed sense of hope and strength in what I believe is a treacherous political period, especially in my home country.

Here are a few excerpts to pique your interest:

“…[T]he meaning of ‘liberalism’ has always been ambiguous. As Montesquieu noted nearly 300 years ago: ‘No word has received more different significations and has struck minds in so many ways as has liberty.’ The same might be said about its close relation, liberalism. According to the legal philosopher Jeremy Waldron writing in 1987, ‘liberalism’ does not describe a unified, coherent political theory but serves as an umbrella for a large family of theories created over the course of several centuries by diverse authors with disparate notions of its meaning, and harbouring no intentions of creating a fully fledged system of governance.

The name ‘liberalism’ has been used to describe systems of governance as distinctive as the French physiocrats’ laissez-faire, the libertarians’ ‘night watchman state’, Franklin Roosevelt’s ‘New Deal’, the law-ordered state of German Ordoliberals, including Walter Eucken and Wilhelm Röpke, and Lyndon Johnson’s ‘Great Society’. Today, ‘new’ liberals criticise ‘neoliberalism’ as a cause of increasing inequality and declining social mobility. At the same time, ‘classical’ liberals denounce the excesses of the social welfare state for its encroachments on individual liberty and the state-dependency it creates.”

– and –

“…[L]iberalism creates a big tent for many different conceptions of the ‘good life’, in accordance with its commitment to individual choice. Some have seen this feature as a weakness of liberalism. The Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset could not have disagreed more. Writing at a moment when liberalism’s death was being widely proclaimed in the Western world, he argued in The Revolt of the Masses (1930) that liberalism should best be defined as ‘the supreme form of generosity’. In liberal regimes, he argued, the majority, which has power on its side, concedes to weaker minorities the right to live on their own terms, thus announcing the determination to share existence with – and respect those – who have a different view of the good society.

That such ‘generosity’ can be a source of real strength is attested by liberalism’s real successes. Late in his life, Popper, a self-described liberal ‘optimist’, named several liberal achievements as undeniable facts. At no other time, and nowhere else, he pointed out in 1986, have human beings been more valued, as individuals, than in liberal societies: ‘Never before have their human rights, and their human dignity, been so respected, and never before have so many been ready to bring great sacrifices for others, especially for those less fortunate than themselves.’

Popper was no Dr Pangloss. He did not believe that we live in the best of all possible worlds. Nor did he overlook social problems that persist in liberal societies. But he appreciated that modern liberal societies are the best political systems we fallible humans have managed to create. He believed that such societies create the best conditions for individual development and social improvement”

– and –

“Success itself is a highly ambiguous and contingent concept. It would be inappropriate for the members of a liberal society ever to expect more than a partial success. Given what Immanuel Kant in 1784 called the ‘crooked timber of humanity’, liberalism’s ambitions and hopes will always exceed its actual achievements. Moreover, liberal democratic societies remain congenitally unstable and imperfect, in part because of liberalism’s conflicting demands for both more individual autonomy and greater equality. Because of that inherent tension, liberalism carries the seeds of its own destruction.

At the same time, it might be short-sighted to see liberalism’s alleged failures as anything more than partial and temporary ones. Even if liberalism does not provide a telos or supreme good toward which we should strive, it helps us avoid greater evils, the most salient being cruelty and the fear it inspires. As Ortega y Gasset reminds us, it was no mean accomplishment ‘that the human species should have arrived at so noble an attitude, so paradoxical, so refined’ in the course of a long history marked by bloodshed, intolerance and violence.”

– and –

“For all its progress, liberalism is inseparable from the doubts we feel about it. Those doubts should cause us to heed, even celebrate, liberalism’s critics for pointing out its real flaws. Less attention should be paid, however, to the loud prophets of liberalism’s demise, who declare the entire liberal project dead or fatally flawed. To the extent that liberalism is about solving problems, if only incrementally, we must continue to conjecture, experiment and refute hypotheses about the best means of maintaining and improving our coexistence on Earth.blockquote

Declaring the ‘death of liberalism’ might trigger alarm bells in the media and help to sell books. But it will not solve any of the real problems that modern liberal societies confront, including the real threats to liberal values about which nearly everyone cares and agrees.”

I hope you enjoy and are as enlightened by this essay as I am!

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

New Podcast Episode: The Bell Tower, Tower of London: Thomas More, Elizabeth I, and Other Histories, Part 2

Entrance to the burial chamber below St Peter ad Vincula, Tower of London, England

Listen to this podcast episode here or on Google Play, or subscribe on iTunes

Saturday, May 4th, 2018, continued

Simon, Laurence, and I leave the Queen’s House and follow Simon past the Tower Green to the Royal Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula (‘St Peter in Chains’). We descend a narrow stone stairway which leads to a chamber underneath the chapel and find ourselves in a chamber with low, arched ceilings. The room is constructed of stone or brick, perhaps both; it’s hard to determine exactly which since it’s thickly painted, and plastered in some places. The walls are lined with black tablets with names inscribed in curly script. Before the names, some contain such inscriptions as ‘Here lieth the body of…’ or ‘To the memory of…’

A tablet on the north wall, above several of these black name-inscribed tablets, explains:

‘Within this wall are deposited in two chests the remains of many distinguished persons who suffered death on Tower Hill and which were for a time interred beneath the floor of the chancel and nave of St Peter ad Vincula of the Tower of London * The removal of which was necessitated by repairs and alterations within the chapel by H.M. Office of Works in the years 1876-7 * The reinterment of these remains was under the supervision of Lieut-General Milman * Major of the Tower * A member of the committee appointed to carry out the alterations April 1877.’…

… Read the written version here

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

The Bell Tower, Tower of London: Thomas More, Elizabeth I, and Other Histories, Part 2

Entrance to the burial chamber below St Peter ad Vincula, Tower of London, England

Saturday, May 4th, 2018, continued

Simon, Laurence, and I leave the Queen’s House and follow Simon past the Tower Green to the Royal Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula (‘St Peter in Chains’). We descend a narrow stone stairway which leads to a chamber underneath the chapel and find ourselves in a chamber with low, arched ceilings. The room is constructed of stone or brick, perhaps both; it’s hard to determine exactly which since it’s thickly painted, and plastered in some places. The walls are lined with black tablets with names inscribed in curly script. Before the names, some contain such inscriptions as ‘Here lieth the body of…’ or ‘To the memory of…’

A tablet on the north wall, above several of these black name-inscribed tablets, explains:

‘Within this wall are deposited in two chests the remains of many distinguished persons who suffered death on Tower Hill and which were for a time interred beneath the floor of the chancel and nave of St Peter ad Vincula of the Tower of London * The removal of which was necessitated by repairs and alterations within the chapel by H.M. Office of Works in the years 1876-7 * The reinterment of these remains was under the supervision of Lieut-General Milman * Major of the Tower * A member of the committee appointed to carry out the alterations April 1877.’

At the west end of the chamber near the door where we entered, there’s a large alcove with a pointed ceiling, and within the alcove is a large darkly-painted sort of chest with a portrait bust of Thomas More on the center top. It’s flanked by two large candles, with one small one in blue glass burning in the center in front of the bust, and two long narrow holders containing many more small candles below. There are two kneelers directly in front of the alcove, and one off to the left below two framed portrait prints, one of John Fisher and one of More. The large chest in More’s alcove is inscribed:

Thomas More
Knight * scholar * writer * statesman
Lord Chancellor of England 1529 – 32
Beheaded on Tower Hill, buried in this Chapel
1535
Canonized by Pope Pius XI 1935

This may be the actual resting place of his remains or it may be a cenotaph, an empty tomb memorializing a person whose remains are elsewhere, in this case, elsewhere within the chamber.

Thomas More memorial shrine below the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, Tower of London

Thomas More portrait bust in his memorial shrine below St Peter ad Vincula, Tower of London

This chamber is where, as Simon confirms, More’s body is buried. His head, however, is not buried with it. As was the usual practice for those executed by beheading, More’s head was boiled for preservation then placed on a spike over London Bridge, on the very spike upon which John Fisher’s severed head had already been displayed for two weeks. They were placed there to serve as a warning to others. More’s daughter Margaret, so distraught that she could not bring herself to witness his execution, managed to retrieve it after it was displayed for some time (my sources disagree about how much time), and the skull was buried with her in Chelsea Old Church when she died nine years later.

More and his family regularly attended services at Chelsea Old Church since they lived nearby; Roper’s Garden across the street may be on land that belonged to the More estate where Henry VIII would come to visit More during happier times. The More chapel in Chelsea Old Church is among the few sections that stand today after surviving the 1941 bombing that reduced most of the church to rubble. The church has since been restored to nearly its original appearance. More’s head and Margaret’s body are no longer buried there, however. After Margaret’s husband and More’s early biographer William Roper died in 1578, their remains were all buried together in the Roper family vault at St. Dunstan’s Church in Canterbury.

Burial chamber below St Peter ad Vincula, Tower of London

The Royal Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, Tower of London

Next, we ascend the stairs from low light of the burial chamber into the bright sunshine, then enter lovely St Peter’s chapel proper. Simon tells us stories about many things found in the chapel and people buried within it. While they’re very interesting to hear, I won’t include them in this account since they’re unrelated to the subjects I journeyed here to explore. St Peter ad Vincula was first converted from a simple parish church when the Tower walls were extended outward in the 11th century, placing the church within its walls as the complex was enlarged. Henry III expanded and redecorated it as a royal chapel in the 13th century. Though it had remained in use, the chapel had fallen into a sad state of repair by the latter half of the 19th century. The extensive restoration of 1876-77, which had led to the aforementioned reburials in the chapel’s subterranean chamber, also removed many of the seventeenth- and eighteenth- century additions that gave the chapel an ornate but dark and crowded look. Today, the interior has a bright and airy look while still very decorative with its arches and stained glass windows, a significant improvement.

This photo of the Royal Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula at the Tower of London is courtesy of TripAdvisor. Photography is not allowed within the chapel, though evidently, it’s possible to obtain permission

Lady Jane Grey, perhaps after a lost Holbein portrait by Magdalena and/or Willem de Passe, published by Frans van den Wyngaerde 1620, via Project Gutenberg

The names of many famous persons buried in and below the chapel are listed on a scrolled brass plaque on the wall near the front door. They include among them, in the order listed: John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester; Sir Thomas More; Queen Anne Boleyn; Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex; Queen Katherine Howard; Sir Thomas Arundel (his name is carved into the walls of Beauchamp Tower in numerous places); John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland; and Lady Jane Grey.

After touring the chapel, we part ways from Simon for about quarter of an hour: he discovers that he needs to fetch a key from his colleague in order to visit our next destination. Laurence and I bask in the sun and talk over what we’ve seen and heard thus far. What an adventure! we agree. When Simon returns, we head back past the Queen’s House towards the Beauchamp Tower.

Speaking of Lady Jane Grey… Simon points out a darker brick building on the way back past the Queen’s House. It’s a three-story structure not including the low attic rooms beneath its pointed gables, with brightly painted blue doors. Through the smudged windows, I see evidence of its use at least in part as a storage space. Before it can welcome visitors, the building needs to be restored, says Simon, and there are plans to do so. This is where Lady Jane Grey stayed during her brief nine-day reign, from July 10th, 1553, when she was proclaimed Queen after Henry VIII’s son Edward VI’s early death until July 19th when Henry VIII’s eldest daughter Mary was proclaimed Queen by her supporters. Mary won out, and Jane was then held here until executed seven months later.

Section of Queen’s House where Lady Jane Grey was kept in the Tower of London

Jane Grey was a distant cousin of Mary; Jane was Henry VIII’s great-niece. Although Mary was the next in line to the throne after her younger brother Edward, according to Henry VIII’s third and final Act of Succession of 1543, the dying fifteen-year-old king named Jane Grey as his heir in hopes that foreign powers would not gain access to the throne through marriage to his elder sisters. It wasn’t just a matter of international politics, however: the Protestant Edward was anxious to keep the throne in Protestant hands and Mary was a committed Catholic. When Mary took power, Edward’s fears were realized: she released all of the Catholics still imprisoned since Henry VIII had them arrested, and worked to return England to the Catholic fold.

Queen Mary I by Master John, 1544, now at the National Portrait Gallery in London, public domain via Wikimedia Commons

Mary did not want to execute Jane. She was actually very fond of her, just as she was of her little brother Edward, despite their religious differences and despite the fact that they were rival claimants to the throne. Jane was persuaded by her husband Guildford Dudley, her parents, and her ambitious father-in-law the Duke of Northumberland to take the crown according to Edward’s wishes. Mary held the view that many historians still do today, that Jane was an unwilling pawn used to further the interests of power-hungry family members and their connections. Some, however, believe that Jane was more ready and willing to be queen then many of her later chroniclers would admit. She was and still often is portrayed as an innocent martyr to duty, family, and religious conflict. It is true that she was forced into the marriage with Dudley, that she harshly condemned her father-in-law Northumberland’s power grabs, and supported Mary’s ascendancy to the throne. So Mary was more than willing to spare Jane’s life, though she did keep her imprisoned in the Tower for security’s sake. But during her imprisonment, members of Jane’s family and their connections continued to involve themselves in plots to undermine Mary’s reign, and in the interests of removing these persistent threats around their Protestant figurehead Jane, Mary felt forced to act. Jane was executed on the same day as her husband, on February 12th, 1554. According to eyewitness accounts, after watching, at her own insistence, her husband’s execution, Jane faced her death stoically, proclaimed her innocence firmly but not self-pityingly, and held fast to her Protestant beliefs. Her father-in-law Northumberland had already been executed the previous August. Her father Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, was executed eleven days later, after having taken part in one too many anti-Mary conspiracies.

Entrance to the Beauchamp Tower, Tower of London, England

In the long run, Edward VI’s hopes of England continuing as a Protestant country were realized: the unpopular Mary I died on November 17th, 1558, after only a five-year-reign. Her younger sister, the daughter of Anne Boleyn who ascended to the throne as Elizabeth I, broke the pattern her siblings had set of dying after very short reigns. More about Elizabeth shortly.

As we continue past the Queen’s House, Simon points out the upper sections in white plaster supported by dark wood beams, in that classic Tudor style. It was originally built as a living space for Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII’s second wife and the reason he broke off communion with the Church of Rome, but it was not to be used as such. Instead, Anne was imprisoned there for about 18 days before her husband had her executed on May 19th, 1536, not even one year after More was executed in part for opposing her marriage to Henry VIII. I’ve decided not to tell the story of Anne Boleyn here. There’s been a glut of Anne Boleyn-related documentaries, miniseries, and television specials in the last several years, and I feel a bit of Boleyn-related-fatigue at this point. There’s also a five-day-a-week, twice-daily reenactment here at the Tower of Anne’s ‘tragic final days at the famous fortress, from her imprisonment and interrogation, through to her trial and execution,’ according to the Tower of London’s website. During our later Tower explorations, we see the troupe’s retinue, beautifully costumed and equipped, make the solemn march behind the faux Anne from the archway leading from the Traitor’s gate up to the Tower green. Though I won’t tell her story, she will figure in the next one, though.

Elizabeth’s Walk leading from the Beauchamp Tower to the Bell Tower, Tower of London

Alcove in the upper cell of the Bell Tower, Tower of London. Note the portraits of Bishop John Fisher, executed two weeks before More, and then-Princess Elizabeth

So, to continue: we follow Simon through the Beauchamp Tower door and up a narrow spiral staircase. There’s some uncertainty as to whether Simon had been given the right key, but after a little fumbling with its inability to smoothly open the lock, it gives way, and we step out onto a long balcony walk with a crenelated wall running along the Tower Green side.

This walkway leads from the Beauchamp Tower to the upper chamber of the Bell Tower, no longer accessible by the old small staircase that had been there in More’s time. Simon confirms that this is the walkway commonly known as Elizabeth’s Walk. Princess Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII and his second wife Anne Boleyn, younger sister of Mary, and older sister of Edward, was held here in 1554 following the Wyatt rebellion. This was one of those in which some of Jane’s family and connections were implicated, though the purpose of this one was to prevent Mary from marrying the Catholic Philip of Spain and to put Elizabeth, not Jane, on the throne. A few weeks after the plot was foiled and many involved it in were imprisoned and executed, Mary had Elizabeth committed to the Tower.

Queen Elizabeth I by unknown English artist, oil on panel, ca 1600, at the National Portrait Gallery, London

Unlike Jane and Edward, Mary did not particularly like Elizabeth. Religion must not have been that much of an issue since Mary loved her brother and cousin despite their religious differences, though it may have contributed. Rather, sibling rivalry likely had much more to do with it, sibling rivalry of a very particular sort, exacerbated or perhaps entirely created by the adults in their lives. When Henry VIII divorced Catherine of Aragon and married Anne Boleyn, he had Mary declared illegitimate as an additional way to bolster the perception of legitimacy for his new marriage. After Anne bore Elizabeth, the new Princess and heir apparent was given the honors and retinue that was stripped from Mary, who was required to stop referring to herself as Princess. Though she could do nothing about the other indignities of losing her place in the royal household, she refused to recognize her demotion to ‘Lady Mary.’ Henry VIII was angered at his daughter’s stubbornness in this matter and punished her for it in various ways, but she would not relent. He may have recognized and even come to respect that the steely will Princess Mary exhibited echoed his own, and over time he softened in his stance toward her.

Upper cell of the Bell Tower, Tower of London, England

As we continue along Elizabeth’s Walk, Simon explains that evidence could not be produced that was sufficient to legally convict Elizabeth for her purported connections to plots to undermine or overthrow Mary’s reign. I think this was true for the court of public opinion as well. Immersed in the constantly shifting dangerous royal sand trap that was the Tudor family, the highly intelligent Elizabeth had grown wise and wary very early on. She was just too canny to accept communications from suspicious persons. But, says Simon, since she lied at least by omission since she knew about the plots, Elizabeth was technically guilty. Mary would have been far more legally justified in executing Elizabeth than Jane and nearly did so more than once, but she had reasons to hold back. One, it seems, was her religious compunction against killing her own sister. Another was Mary’s realization that she was growing increasingly unpopular and she was afraid of rousing support for Elizabeth and the Protestant cause by making a martyr of her. Simon tells us that Elizabeth was the only prisoner ever held in this room to survive their imprisonment here.

Another view of the upper cell of the Bell Tower, Tower of London

Then Simon opens the door to the Bell Tower’s upper chamber and we enter. In this rough-walled stone room, Princess Elizabeth was held for a time. All told, she was imprisoned in the Tower from mid-March to May 19th of 1554, but according to Patrick Collinson for the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, she was held for much or most of that time in the aforementioned nearby upper floor apartments-turned-prison built for her mother Anne Boleyn, where the Queen’s House now stands. Perhaps this thickly-built, secure upper room of the Bell Tower we’re in now, above Thomas More’s cell and the same one which reportedly held John Fisher in 1535, may have been the room in which Elizabeth was initially held in or held anytime there seemed to be a danger of her rescue or escape.

Toilet installed for Hitler outside the upper cell of the Bell Tower, Tower of London

Next, Simon leads us down a tiny hallway off to the side of the main chamber. Perhaps, I’m guessing, it leads to where the old communicating stairway was. Whatever its original purpose, we find something very much unexpected: a toilet. Not just any toilet, it turns out. Simon explains that it this room was readied as a possible place to hold Adolf Hitler upon capture. Hitler’s imprisonment here never happened, and this toilet was therefore never used. And so, here it remains. I’m a little surprised it was never removed given its architectural incongruousness and the general depressing creepiness it evokes, but I suppose it’s just too interesting a historical reminder of that time of England’s crisis, tenacity, and triumph.

Simon has other interesting stories to tell us about World War II and his military history in general, which particularly fascinates Laurence. At one time, Simon says, he guarded the imprisoned Rudolf Hess, Adolf Hitler’s right-hand-man, for three years as I remember. Held in the Queen’s House for four days in May of 1941, Hess was the Tower’s last high-profile prisoner, as historian Tracy Borman writes. I won’t go into Simon’s stories of Hess and other military affairs here as they are unrelated to my quest here, but it’s a great starting point for digging into more of the long and fascinating history of the Tower.

‘Years of Peril’ document in upper cell of the Bell Tower, Tower of London

Returning to the main chamber, I spot a framed document upon a table, leaning against the southeast wall, and move in for a closer look. It’s entitled ‘Years of Peril’, and it’s neatly written by hand in an old-fashioned script, in black highlighted in places with red and surrounded by a green leafy decorative border. In many places, the document is wrinkled and the ink has run from the damp. It’s a great overview of the history we’ve just considered, laid out as a timeline. It reads:

1533

Whit Sunday [1st of June] –  Queen Anne goes to Her Coronation from the Queen’s House
7th September  –  Princess Elizabeth born at Greenwich

1536

19th May  –  Queen Anne to her execution and burial in the Chapel Royal of Saint Peter ad Vincula from the Queen’s House

1553

6th July  –  King Edward dies at Greenwich
10th July  –  Northumberland proclaims Lady Jane Grey, now married to his son Guildford Dudley, as Queen, they enter the Tower
3rd August  –  Queen Mary welcomed to London and enters the Tower
22nd August  –  Northumberland executed on Tower Hill
1st October  –  Queen Mary goes to Her Coronation from the Tower, having made 15 Knights of the Bath
31st October  –  Queen Mary announces intention of marrying Philip of Spain, arousing widespread opposition
13th November  –  Jane and Guildford Dudley condemned to death. No apparent intention to carry out sentence. Guildford in Beauchamp Tower, Jane with Yeoman Gaoler’s wife.

1554

25th January  –  Sir Thomas Wyatt leads Protestant rebellion from Kent. Bombards the Tower from Southwark.
27th January  –  Princess Elizabeth, though ill, ordered from Ashridge to Whitehall under escort. Queen Mary refuses to see Her half-sister.
7th February  –  Rebels defeated at Ludgate and Charing Cross. Wyatt captured.
12th February  –  Guildford Dudley executed on Tower Hill and Jane on Tower Green. They are buried by the Chapel Royal altar with their fathers.
6th March  –  Proxy marriage of Queen Mary to Philip of Spain
18th March  –  Princess Elizabeth brought by water to the Tower.
At the Water (Traitor’s) Gate, Princess Elizabeth says: –
“Here landeth as true a subject, being a prisoner, as ever landed at these stairs.”
At the Bloody Tower arch, when the Yeoman Warders say, “God Preserve Your Grace,” she replies: –
“…..I come no traitor, but as true a woman to the Queen’s Majesty as any is now living, and thereon I will take my death.”
Imprisoned in the Upper Chamber of the Bell Tower, being supposedly involved in the Wyatt Plot. Kate Ashley, her governess and companion, quartered elsewhere.
Interrogated by Bishop Gardiner and the Council.
In view of her poor health, permitted to walk on the battlements, still known as Elizabeth’s Walk, past her mother’s old room.
Robert Dudley, later Leicester, still imprisoned in the Beauchamp Tower.
Princess Elizabeth is permitted to walk in the Privy Garden, now Tower Green, escorted by the Constable and Lieutenant. Dines with them in Queen’s House but a little boy, who brings her flowers, is denied access.
11th April  –  Thomas Wyatt executed on Tower Hill, having exonerated Princess Elizabeth.
19th May  –  Princess Elizabeth released from the Tower. Conveyed under escort to Woodstock through demonstrations of loyalty to her.

1558

17th November  –  Princess Elizabeth proclaimed Queen on Mary’s death and begins Her Glorious Reign

1559

15th January  –  Goes to Her Coronation from the Tower

====================
10th May, 1982

Thirty years after Her Accession, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II was entertained by Her Royal Highness, The Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon in this Upper Bell Chamber. Together they paced Elizabeth’s Walk, mindful of the imprisonment of the first Princess Elizabeth here, dined in the Queen’s House and attended the Ceremony of the Keys.’

The Bell Tower cupola and a view of London and the Thames, Tower of London

The bell in the cupola of the Bell Tower, Tower of London, England, photo 2018 Amy Cools

The bell in the cupola of the Bell Tower, Tower of London

In the end, not only was Edward VI’s hopes of England remaining Protestant realized; his fears of a foreign prince taking power in England through marriage to one of his sisters came to naught. As her early chronicler William Camden described, Elizabeth was courted vigorously and widely by princes and aristocrats all over the Western world, some of whom she was personally fond of, and many of which could have helped replenish England’s exhausted coffers and bolster its world influence. Yet, she refused all of them. Her determination to remain single followed a severe bout of smallpox in 1562 which nearly killed her; such crises have a way of centering the mind and inspiring one to firmly establish priorities. As Camden reports, the next year Elizabeth replied to Parliament’s urging that she take a husband and produce heirs: ‘Yea, to satisfy you, I have already joined myself in marriage to an husband, namely, the Kingdom of England. And behold [taking a ring off her finger and showing it to them] the pledge of this my wedlock and marriage with my kingdom.’ And to underscore her determination to rule with authority in her own right, dominated by no man, Elizabeth continued, ‘But I commend you that ye have not appointed me a husband, for that were most unworthy the majesty of an absolute princess, and unbeseeming to your wisdom, which are subjects born.’ Elizabeth I was known through her long reign and ever after as the Virgin Queen.

After I do some photography, we leave the chamber through a little door, climb another little stairway,  and emerge onto the rooftop of the Bell Tower. The views up here are amazing, especially on this bright sunny day. The scattered clouds are puffy, the sky is a bright clear blue, and London is gleaming. We enter the pointy-roofed cupola and examine the old bell within. Simon tells us that this bell, once rung at executions, is now rung twice a day at curfew. We take in the views, talking all the while. Simon answers my questions about the histories I’m telling here and about good resources for researching my stories. He also tells us more interesting stories from his military career and of military history in general, again outside of the scope of this piece.

Simon Dodd and Amy Cools atop the Bell Tower, Tower of London

Inscription and clarification in the upper cell of the Bell Tower, Tower of London

As we go down again, on our way out of the Bell Tower chamber, I spot a section of stone that’s been inscribed and covered with a protective clear covering of glass or plastic, and a black slate underneath it with a transcription, strapped to the wall. In answer to my question, Simon tells me there’s a tradition that it was carved when Elizabeth was imprisoned here but it’s not really known just who carved it. Both texts are both worn and difficult to read. Here’s my best attempt to decipher what they say:

In forture strange
My trouth was tried
Yet of my liberty ye denied
There for reson, hath
Me perswaded did that
Pasyens must be ymb
rasyd. Thogh hard
Or unchasyth
Me with smart[…?]
Yet pasyens shall prevail

The gist of its meaning seems to be that the writer’s integrity was attacked and tried through the inexplicable circumstances of fortune and imprisonment. Though imprisoned, however, they decided that patience must be ‘ymbrasyd’ and that it would prevail in the end.

A view of London from the Bell Tower, Tower of London

We leave the Bell Tower, and in the courtyard near Tower Green, we thank Simon profusely and we all say our goodbyes. Then, accompanied by Laurence, I continue my Tower quest in the places that are accessible to us without official accompaniment. There are so many more fascinating aspects of these stories to be explored, and we press on. To be continued….

*Patron of this Tower of London journey: Laurence Murphy ~ With warmest gratitude, thank you!*

*Listen to the podcast version here or on Google Play, or subscribe on iTunes

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sources and inspiration:

Ackroyd, Peter. The Life of Thomas More. London: Chatto & Windus, 1998

Annual Survey of Visits to Visitor Attractions: Latest Results.‘ VisitBritain.org

The Bell Tower.’ English Monarchs website.

Borman, Tracy. The Story of the Tower of London. London: Merrell Publishers Limited, 2015

Borman, Tracy. ‘The Tudors and the Tower.‘ Tudor Times website, 3 Aug 2015

Camden, William Norton, Robert; Hans and Hanni Kraus. The historie of the most renowned and victorious Princesse Elizabeth, late queen of England. Contayning all the important and remarkeable passages of state both at home and abroad, during her long and prosperous raigne. Composed by way of annals. Neuer heretofore so faithfully and fully published in English.
Sir Francis Drake Collection Library of Congress. London: Printed by N. Okes for B. Fisher; 1630

Chelsea Old Church: Thomas More.’ Chelsea Old Church website

Collinson, Patrick. ‘Elizabeth I (1533–1603), Queen of England and Ireland.‘ Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.

English Monarchs website: ‘The Bell Tower’ and ‘The Queen’s House

Freeman, Thomas S. (2002). ‘`As true a subiect being prysoner’: John Foxe’s notes on the imprisonment of Princess Elizabeth, 1554-5.‘ (Notes And Documents). The English Historical Review, 117(470), 104-116

Furness, Hannah. ‘Wolf Hall is ‘Deliberate Perversion’ of History, says David Starkey.The Telegraph, 26 Jan 2015

Guy, John. A Daughter’s Love: Thomas and Margaret More. London: Fourth Estate, 2008

Guy, John. ‘For What Did Thomas More So Silently Die?’ Lecture published at Tudors.org

House, Seymour Baker. ‘More, Sir Thomas [St Thomas More] (1478–1535), Lord Chancellor, Humanist, and Martyr.‘ Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.

Ives, Eric William. ‘Henry VIII (1491–1547), King of England and Ireland.’ Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.

Jones, Jonathan. ‘Wolf Hall is Wrong: Thomas More was a Funny, Feminist Renaissance Man.‘ The Guardian, 29 Jan 2015

Kennedy, Maev. ‘Historians Scorn Claims over Thomas More’s Cell.The Guardian, 10 Jan 2000

Marc’hadour, Germain P. ‘Thomas More.’ Encyclopædia Britannica

More, Thomas. The Apology of Sir Thomas More, Knight. from The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, Vol. 9. Yale University Press, published online by The Center for Thomas More Studies

More, Thomas. Conscience Decides: Letters and Prayers from Prison Written Between April 1534 and July 1535. Selected and arranged by Dame Bede Foord; preface by Trevor Huddleston; introduction by Germain Marc’hadour. London: Geoffrey Chapman Ltd, 1971

More, Thomas. The English Correspondence of Sir Thomas More, 1947 Rogers edition, Princeton University Press, published online by The Center for Thomas More Studies

Moynahan. God’s Bestseller: William Tyndale, Thomas More, and the Writing of the English Bible – A Story of Martyrdom and Betrayal. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2003

Plowden, A. ‘Grey [married name Dudley], Lady Jane (1537–1554), Noblewoman and Claimant to the English Throne.Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.

Roper, William. The Life of Sir Thomas More1556. Ed. Gerard B. Wegemer and Stephen W. Smith. Center for Thomas More Studies, 2003

Stanford, Peter. ‘Sir Thomas More: Saint or Sinner?’ The Telegraph, 20 Jan 2015

Teysko, Heather and Melita Thomas. ‘Tudor Times on Thomas More.’ Renaissance English History Podcast: A Show About the Tudors, episode 55, Sep 16, 2016

Weikel, Ann. ‘Mary I (1516–1558), Queen of England and Ireland.’ Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Happy Birthday, Niccolò Machiavelli!

Niccolò Machiavelli statue at the Uffizi

Cary Nederman introduces us to his piece on Niccolò Machiavelli for The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy thusly:

Why an entry on Machiavelli? That question might naturally and legitimately occur to anyone encountering an entry about him in an encyclopedia of philosophy. Certainly, Machiavelli [May 3, 1469 – June 21, 1527] contributed to a large number of important discourses in Western thought—political theory most notably, but also history and historiography, Italian literature, the principles of warfare, and diplomacy. But Machiavelli never seems to have considered himself a philosopher—indeed, he often overtly rejected philosophical inquiry as beside the point—nor do his credentials suggest that he fits comfortably into standard models of academic philosophy. His writings are maddeningly and notoriously unsystematic, inconsistent and sometimes self-contradictory. He tends to appeal to experience and example in the place of rigorous logical analysis. Yet succeeding thinkers who more easily qualify as philosophers of the first rank did (and do) feel compelled to engage with his ideas, either to dispute them or to incorporate his insights into their own teachings. Machiavelli may have grazed at the fringes of philosophy, but the impact of his musings has been widespread and lasting. The terms “Machiavellian” or “Machiavellism” find regular purchase among philosophers concerned with a range of ethical, political, and psychological phenomena, even if Machiavelli did not invent “Machiavellism” and may not even have been a “Machiavellian” in the sense often ascribed to him. Moreover, in Machiavelli’s critique of “grand” philosophical schemes, we find a challenge to the enterprise of philosophy that commands attention and demands consideration and response. Thus, Machiavelli deserves a place at the table in any comprehensive survey of philosophy…’

Learn more about the often contradictory, ever controversial, always fascinating and relevant Niccolò Machiavelli:

The Inverted Advice of Niccolò Machiavelli – by William J. Connell for the Times Literary Supplement

Machiavelli and the Italian City States – Melvin Bragg in conversation with his guests Quentin Skinner, Evelyn Welch, and Lisa Jardine

Niccolò Machiavelli – by Cary Nederman for The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Niccolò Machiavelli: Italian Statesman and Writer – by Harvey Mansfield for Encyclopædia Britannica

*A version of this piece was previously published at Ordinary Philosophy

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

Happy Birthday, Morton White!

Morton White in 1981

The world lost Morton White (April 29, 1917 – May 27, 2016) less than two years ago, and I first learned of him through reading his obituary in The New York Times. As I read, I knew this is a man and an approach to philosophy I must learn more about.

White was a philosopher and historian of ideas. According to the Institute for Advanced Studies, ‘he maintained that philosophy of science is not philosophy enough, thereby encouraging the examination of other aspects of civilized life—especially art, history, law, politics and religion—and their relations with science’. And as William Grimes put it for TNYT, his ‘innovative theory of “holistic pragmatism” showed the way toward a more socially engaged, interdisciplinary role for philosophy’.

I studied philosophy with great love and enthusiasm as an undergraduate, yet I found myself then as now just as curious about other disciplines, especially history and the arts, and have often felt that the lines dividing these areas of study are sometimes artificial and even impediments to understanding. Since then, I’ve been pursuing my studies in the history of ideas more broadly, informally for the past several years, formally now at the University of Edinburgh. No doubt, White has influenced the direction my studies in intellectual history will take in ways I’ll learn as I go along, and in many more ways than I’ll ever know.

Learn more about White and his fascinating ideas:

Holistic Pragmatism and the Philosophy of Culture‘ – chapter 1 of A Philosophy of Culture: The Scope of Holistic Pragmatism, New Jersey: Princeton University Press 2002, in which White summarizes what his holistic pragmatism is all about

Morton White, Philosopher of Holistic Pragmatism, Dies at 99‘ – Obituary by William Grimes for The New York Times, June 10, 2016

Morton White 1917–2016 – His memorial page at the Institute for Advanced Study website, June 08, 2016

And you can find his selected bibliography at Wikipedia

*A version of this piece was previously published at Ordinary Philosophy

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

On the Value of Intellectuals, by Brad Kent

“George Bernard Shaw near St Neots from the Millership collection” from the Birmingham Museums Trust, CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

In times of populism, soundbites, and policy-by-Twitter such as we live in today, the first victims to suffer the slings and arrows of the demagogues are intellectuals. These people have been demonised for prioritising the very thing that defines them: the intellect, or finely reasoned and sound argument. As we celebrate the 161st birthday of Bernard Shaw, one of the most gifted, influential, and well-known intellectuals to have lived, we might use the occasion to reassess the value of intellectuals to a healthy society and why those in power see them as such threats.

Born in Dublin on 26 July 1856 to a father who held heterodox religious opinions and a mother who moved in artistic circles, Shaw was perhaps bound to be unconventional. By age 19 he was convinced that his native Ireland was little more than an uncouth backwater–the national revival had yet to see the light of day–so he established himself in London in order to conquer English letters. He then took his sweet time to do it. In the roughly quarter of a century between his arrival in the metropole and when he finally had a modicum of success, Shaw wrote five novels–most of which remained unpublished until his later years–and eked out a living as a journalist, reviewing music, art, books, and theatre. That eminently readable journalism has been collected in many fine editions, and we see in it an earnest individual not only engaged in assessing the qualities of the material before him–much of which was dreadfully insipid–but eager to raise standards and to cultivate the public. He prodded people to want more and gave them the tools to understand what a better art would look and sound like. And he did so in an inimitable voice that fashioned his renowned alter ego: the great showman and controversialist, GBS.

“George Bernard Shaw, circa 1900” from the Library of Congress, Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Shaw became more widely known as a playwright in late 1904, when King Edward broke his chair laughing at the Royal Command performance of Shaw’s play John Bull’s Other Island. He was no longer a journalist by trade, now being able to live by his plays, but Shaw continued to write essays, articles, and letters-to-the-editor in leading papers to set the record straight, to denounce abuses of power, and to suggest more humane courses of action. When he published his plays, he wrote polemical prefaces to accompany them that are sometimes longer than the plays themselves. These prefaces, written on an exhausting range of subjects, are equally learned and entertaining. Indeed, it has been said by some wags that the plays are the price that we pay for his prefaces.

In many ways continuing his fine work as the Fabian Society’s main pamphleteer in the 1890s, his prefaces suggest remedies for the great injustices of his time. And, what’s more, the vast majority of his prescriptions are as topical and provocative today. For example, if you’re American, should you opt for Trumpcare or Obamacare? Read The Doctor’s Dilemma and its preface and you’ll have a compelling case for neither, but rather a comprehensive and fully accessible public healthcare system, the sort now common in Canada and most European countries. That’s right, people were feeling the Bern–we might say the original Bern–well before Mr. Sanders was born.

Some of Shaw’s opinions came at a great cost. When he published Common Sense About the War, which was critical of both German and British jingoism at the outset of the Great War, he ran too much against the grain of the hyper-patriotic press and government propaganda, thereby becoming a pariah to many. But his star gradually returned into the ascendant as the body count mounted and a war-weary population came to share his point of view. The run-away international success of Saint Joan brought him the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925 and, as Shaw said, gave him the air of sanctity in his later years.

“George Bernard Shaw with Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, May 1949”, from Nehru Memorial Museum & Library. Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

However, Shaw always maintained that he was immoral to the bone. He was immoral in the sense that, as a committed socialist in a liberal capitalist society, he didn’t support contemporary mores. Instead, he sought to change the way that society was structured and to do so he proposed absolutely immoral policies. A good number of these beyond universal healthcare have seen the light of day, such as education that prioritises the child’s development and sense of self-worth, the dismantling of the injustices of colonial rule, and voting rights for women. But those in power continue the old tug-of-war, and the intellectuals of today must be as vigilant, courageous, and energetic as Shaw in the defence of liberal humanist and social democratic values. Witness the return of unaffordable tertiary education in the UK, made possible by both Labour and Conservative policies.  We might recall that Shaw co-founded one of these institutions–the renowned London School of Economics–because he believed in their public good.

Whenever Shaw toured the globe in his later decades–he died in 1950 at age 94–he was met by leading politicians, celebrities, and intellectuals who wanted to bask in his wit, wisdom, and benevolence (Jawaharlal Nehru, Charlie Chaplin, and Albert Einstein are a few such people). Time magazine named him amongst the ten most famous people in the world–alongside Hitler and the Pope. Everywhere he went, the press hounded him for a quote. Yet despite the massive fees he could have charged, he never accepted money for his opinions, just as he had declined speaking fees in his poorer days when he travelled Britain to give up to six three-hour lectures a week to praise the benefits of social democracy. He would not be bought–or suffer the appearance of being bought.

On his birthday, then, we would do well to think of Shaw and maybe even read some of his plays, prefaces, or journalism. We might also cherish the service and immorality of intellectuals. And we should always question the motives of those who denigrate their value.

This piece was originally published in OUPBlog: Oxford University Press’s Academic Insights for the Thinking World

Is it Moral to Respect the Wishes of the Dead, Above the Living? By Barry Lam

Imagine what a country would be like if every person could secure a vote in elections that happened after their death. If you stated your preferences in your will, you could execute a vote for the conservative, liberal, Asian, or White Separatist candidate, in every election, in perpetuity, and your vote would compete with the votes of the living. Imagine that a legal structure were erected to execute the wishes of the dead, and that the law would side with the dead even when their wishes conflicted with the needs of the living, or with the wellbeing of future generations.

We have overwhelmingly good moral reasons to reject such a society. We believe that with death comes the loss of the right to influence the political institutions of the living. Yet this kind of moral clarity disappears as soon as we move from politics to wealth. There is a huge industry dedicated to executing the wishes of human beings after their death. Through endowments, charitable trusts, dynasty trusts, and inheritance law, trillions of dollars in the US economy and many legal institutions at all levels are tied up in executing the wishes of wealthy people who died long ago. The UK does not fall far behind. As wealth inequality increases, the wealthy today are earmarking large amounts of money from the future economy to carry out their current wishes. The practice is so deeply ingrained in the culture of elite institutions, and such a ubiquitous feature of life, that only in obscure journals in law and philanthropy does anyone express concern about the justice of the practice.

In the US, the wealthy continue to own and grow wealth after their death, and the state can enforce the spending wishes of the dead in many ways. For instance, you may require, as a condition of inheritance, that your grandchildren marry within a religious faith, or that a school be named after you, forbidding a change in name even if the school would otherwise go bankrupt. Alternatively, an individual may secure current and future wealth in a tax-sheltered trust only for descendants, where the money can both grow and be shielded from creditors in perpetuity. A third legal instrument is the charitable trust, where the dead can earmark current and future wealth to some particular purpose considered ‘charitable’ where such purposes are now broad enough to include anything from the care of abandoned guinea pigs to the preservation of Huey military aircraft. Non-profit institutions such as hospitals, museums and universities can have large amounts of their spending constrained by the wishes of dead donors, such as that there be an endowed professorship for the study of parapsychology, or that a certain wing must be set aside for housing individuals of Confederate ancestry.

These practices are, on reflection, quite puzzling. Ideas about what is good to do in the world ought to change with the changing conditions of the world. Funding cancer research is good only in a world in which there is cancer. Giving distant descendants enormous amounts of wealth is good only if they are not sociopaths. And yet, we allow such power to those who are no longer around to know about the world, and who cannot be harmed or benefited any longer from such spending.

In fact, the idea that the dead could lose their rights to control the future is familiar in our moral lives, and this idea gets reflected elsewhere in the law. The state does not enforce your desire that your spouse not remarry. Even if your spouse promises this to you on your deathbed, it would not be illegal for her to break this promise. Businesses do not feel obligated to carry out the wishes of their now-dead founders, even if those founders had strong preferences about the future of the business. These kinds of posthumous desires carry little weight in our deliberations about what we should do now, and we certainly do not erect legal institutions to enforce these kinds of preferences.

However, when it comes to the wishes of the dead with respect to their personal wealth, we grant them many rights. And when you start adding up the wealth tied to the dead, the amount is staggering, likely in the trillions. The current state of wealth inequality together with the ongoing practice of honouring the wishes of the dead, could result in a future economy that will reflect the preferences of a past aristocracy, rather than the majority of those living. Respecting the wishes of the dead can lead to serious intergenerational economic injustice.

William Shakespeare’s last will and testament

The irony of our current practices is that we the living are to blame for sabotaging our own wellbeing. The dead are not around to complain if we were to change these practices; these are our institutions, and any pain we inflict on ourselves from being worse off but for the preferences of the dead cannot honestly be held against the dead. We do not need perpetual trusts to incentivise spending for charitable purposes. Many philanthropists today such as Bill Gates understand that there is greater charitable impact from spending done within one’s lifetime, which is the foundation of the Giving Pledge.

So why do we continue to give the dead such eternal rights? I believe we honour the wishes of the dead out of a misplaced sense of moral duty, as we would feel if we made a deathbed promise to a loved one. But deathbed promises are not unconditional, eternal, nor must they be satisfied at serious self-interested, financial, or moral, cost to the living. They are, instead, a lot like living promises. If I promise my child some candy but, through no fault of my own, the only available candy must be acquired at serious moral cost to some current candy-owner, it is not morally obligatory to fulfil this promise. A promise itself holds some moral weight, but not overriding moral weight.

Another reason we do this is that we have a self-interested desire that our own interests and values be preserved by future people after our own death, on pain that we disappear from the world without any legacy of influence. This existential fear we overcome by permitting institutions to honour the wishes of the dead in order to guarantee a place for our wishes in the future. But it is time to recognise the vanity and narcissism of the practice, and do what is actually best for the living, which is to have the living determine it for themselves.Aeon counter – do not remove

This article was originally published at Aeon and has been republished under Creative Commons.

~ Barry Lam is associate professor of philosophy at Vassar College, New York state, and is Humanities-Writ Large fellow at Duke University in North Carolina. He hosts and produces the philosophy podcast Hi-Phi Nation, and lives in Poughkeepsie, NY. (Bio credit: Aeon)

* Note: Barry’s podcast episode on this same topic is excellent, I highly recommend you give it a listen!

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