Several months ago I noted a contest going on to name the New Seven Wonders of the World, and gave my suggested list from the nominated candidates (in no particular order):
1. Angkor
2. The Pyramid of Kukulkan at Chichén Itzá
3. The Great Wall of China
4. Hagia Sophia
5. Machu Picchu
6. The Great Pyramids of Giza
7. The Taj Mahal
The results of the voting are in. Four of my suggestions got in; one of the final selections was one of which I said that I had no idea why it was even on the list; and one of the candidates on my list that I thought was a must-have did not make it. I still think that any list of Seven Wonders that does not include the Great Pyramids is asking not to be taken seriously. But it's interesting to see how the voting went.
**ADDED LATER**
Ahistoricality notes in the comments that in fact the Pyramids were taken out of the running at some point. Here's a news article indicating why.
The same organization is opening up nominations for the seven natural wonders of the world.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Busy, Busy, Busy
But I did see the Transformers movie recently. There are a few plot points that have to be filed under willing suspension of disbelief, but it's extraordinarily well done; I imagine it will be one of the better movies of the summer. A note for those taking your kids (since I noticed that quite a few people did): it's a movie whose humor is clearly intended for teenagers and up, so keep that in mind when deciding.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
St. Thomas the Apostle
Today is the feast of St. Thomas, so I thought I'd retell my favorite hagiographical legend about Thomas.
Thomas the Apostle, traveling with a merchant into India, was brought before King Gundaphorus, who asked him his craft. Thomas said that he was a carpenter and a builder, capable of building many things, including palaces for kings. So Gundaphorus asked him to build him a palace. Thomas replied that he would wait for the winter months to build the palace; which amazed Gundaphorus, because everyone else built in the summer. Thomas insisted, and Gundaphorus gave him a large quantity of money for building the palace, and continued to send him large quantities of money and provisions as the months went by. But Thomas took all the money and provisions he received from Gundaphorus and began dispensing them to the poor, saying, "Kings know how to receive the reward of kings, but at this time the poor need the things that sustain."
After a while King Gundaphorus sent a messenger to Thomas, and asked him how the palace was going.
"Everything is built except the roof," Thomas replied. So Gundaphorus sent him gold and silver to roof the palace, and Thomas gave it all to the poor, saying, "This is the gift of the Lord to you, for He is rest and relief to those who are poor and afflicted."
After a while the king came to the city and began inquiring of his friends and allies about the palace. They told him that Thomas had done nothing about any palace, but instead had been going about giving large sums of money to the afflicted, healing the sick, and preaching a new God. Needless to say, Gundaphorus was a bit angry and sent for Thomas.
"Have you built me my palace?" he asked.
"Yes," the apostle said.
"Then show it to me," the king said.
Then Thomas shook his head. "You cannot see it now; you will only be able to see it when you have departed from this life."
The king, of course, was exceedingly angry; Thomas was thrown into prison to await being flayed alive.
In the meantime the king's brother Gad had become deathly ill and, apparently, died. The king loved his brother, and with great sorrow made preparations to mourn him. However, as they were putting the burial-clothes on his body, Gad revived. The king was overjoyed and ran to his side.
Then Gad said to Gundaphorus, "Brother, I know your generous heart, and how you would give half your kingdom to anyone asked for my sake; I beg that you grant me one favor."
And Gundaphorus said to Gad, "Ask anything and I will grant it."
Then Gad said, "Brother, sell me your palace in the heavens."
The king was amazed by this request and asked, "How could I have a palace in the heavens?"
Then Gad told him that when he died, his soul was carried by angels up to the heavens, where they showed him many palaces. At length they approached to one that was particularly beautiful, and Gad had begged the angels to let him live in even the humblest room of this beautiful palace. But the angels shook their heads, saying he could not dwell in that building. It had been built by Thomas for his brother. Then Gad had asked them to let him return to his brother in order to buy the palace from him. And they let him return for this very purpose.
Then Gundaphorus said to his brother, "Brother, it is not in my power to sell you that particular palace. But if you wish to build such a palace for yourself, it is in my power to give you the means to build it."
So Thomas was set free in order to build a palace for Gad, just like the one he had built for Gundaphorus. The two brothers were baptized and devoted much of their lives to relieving the poor in their dominion; for it is of such stewardship that the best palaces are made.
Thomas the Apostle, traveling with a merchant into India, was brought before King Gundaphorus, who asked him his craft. Thomas said that he was a carpenter and a builder, capable of building many things, including palaces for kings. So Gundaphorus asked him to build him a palace. Thomas replied that he would wait for the winter months to build the palace; which amazed Gundaphorus, because everyone else built in the summer. Thomas insisted, and Gundaphorus gave him a large quantity of money for building the palace, and continued to send him large quantities of money and provisions as the months went by. But Thomas took all the money and provisions he received from Gundaphorus and began dispensing them to the poor, saying, "Kings know how to receive the reward of kings, but at this time the poor need the things that sustain."
After a while King Gundaphorus sent a messenger to Thomas, and asked him how the palace was going.
"Everything is built except the roof," Thomas replied. So Gundaphorus sent him gold and silver to roof the palace, and Thomas gave it all to the poor, saying, "This is the gift of the Lord to you, for He is rest and relief to those who are poor and afflicted."
After a while the king came to the city and began inquiring of his friends and allies about the palace. They told him that Thomas had done nothing about any palace, but instead had been going about giving large sums of money to the afflicted, healing the sick, and preaching a new God. Needless to say, Gundaphorus was a bit angry and sent for Thomas.
"Have you built me my palace?" he asked.
"Yes," the apostle said.
"Then show it to me," the king said.
Then Thomas shook his head. "You cannot see it now; you will only be able to see it when you have departed from this life."
The king, of course, was exceedingly angry; Thomas was thrown into prison to await being flayed alive.
In the meantime the king's brother Gad had become deathly ill and, apparently, died. The king loved his brother, and with great sorrow made preparations to mourn him. However, as they were putting the burial-clothes on his body, Gad revived. The king was overjoyed and ran to his side.
Then Gad said to Gundaphorus, "Brother, I know your generous heart, and how you would give half your kingdom to anyone asked for my sake; I beg that you grant me one favor."
And Gundaphorus said to Gad, "Ask anything and I will grant it."
Then Gad said, "Brother, sell me your palace in the heavens."
The king was amazed by this request and asked, "How could I have a palace in the heavens?"
Then Gad told him that when he died, his soul was carried by angels up to the heavens, where they showed him many palaces. At length they approached to one that was particularly beautiful, and Gad had begged the angels to let him live in even the humblest room of this beautiful palace. But the angels shook their heads, saying he could not dwell in that building. It had been built by Thomas for his brother. Then Gad had asked them to let him return to his brother in order to buy the palace from him. And they let him return for this very purpose.
Then Gundaphorus said to his brother, "Brother, it is not in my power to sell you that particular palace. But if you wish to build such a palace for yourself, it is in my power to give you the means to build it."
So Thomas was set free in order to build a palace for Gad, just like the one he had built for Gundaphorus. The two brothers were baptized and devoted much of their lives to relieving the poor in their dominion; for it is of such stewardship that the best palaces are made.
That Hideous Strength
Is That Hideous Strength a good book or an atrocious one? It's getting a discussion in the comments at John C. Wright's blog. My own view is that it's very uneven. Some of it is extraordinarily good -- the characterization of Frost and Wither, for instance, or the descent of the eldila, or the description of Merlin, or the whole Babel theme. The chief problem with it is that structurally it's essentially the same type of story as that of Tolkien's long defeat of the Elves leading to the march of the Powers of the West against Morgoth; but it lacks the two advantages Tolkien's story has: lots of space for developing a suitable plot for this deus ex machina ending and the effect of epic distance. Being a solid fan of Euripides, I love deus ex machina; but you have to build up to it well, and I think Lewis struggles (valiantly, and with much ingenuity) against impediments he doesn't entirely overcome. And it's a bit harder to convey a sense of the scope of the battle of the gods if you are showing it here and now and not in some ancient age long ago. The characterization is often exquisite, and some of the irony is as well. But much else in it is a mixed bag.
Providence, Predestination, and Foreknowledge
Paul Hamilton recently asked what my views on predestination and foreknowledge are. My views on this, I think, are pretty basic; to the extent I have any view on it, it's all Boethius and Aquinas. That would make it pretty straightforward except Molinists and Bañezians have also claim the same thing. I'm not Molinist, although I am open in the end to being convinced otherwise -- I find it intriguing, and think it good intellectual exercise to think it through, but I think ultimately that no one has given a good reason to think Molinism even coherent; Molina, in fact, does the most, and the quality of defense of Molinism from then on out seems to me to have deteriorated considerably, being little more than prestidigitation to obscure the fact that no one has much idea how to understand middle knowledge, i.e., knowledge that is neither natural knowledge nor free knowledge. I'm not Bañezian, either; I don't think physical premotion is any better motivated than middle knowledge. (I also think that most of the plausibility of physical premotion comes from confusing what happens under sanctifying grace with what happens naturally.) Neither premotion nor middle knowledge serves any real function, since they both turn out to be elaborate mechanisms for saying we do not know what it is like to be God insofar as He is a knower. Bañezians refer us to mystery when we ask how predetermining motion is compatible with free action, and Molinists refer us to mystery when we ask how it is that free counterfactuals are definite in truth value. They therefore provide no serious advance on simply affirming a standard view such as one finds in Boethius and Aquinas, without all the elaborate machinery that leads to very interesting discussion but does not increase our understanding of the problem. And that's perfectly fine; the things on which Molinists and Bañezians don't agree are not particularly relevant either to our salvation or (at least usually) to what we can know of God by negative theology. This leaves me with a minimalist position on the subject; but it's surprising how resilient and flexible a position that simply insists on holding to the doctrines of creation and divine eternity can be in the face of problems and objections proposed to it.
That's my view on the general topic. Of course, I have more specific views on various particular subtopics, while on others my views are very sketchy indeed. But I think this is the state in which we all find ourselves, whether we wish to admit it or not. After all, providence, predestination, and foreknowledge make for an extraordinarily massive subject: they include everything.
That's my view on the general topic. Of course, I have more specific views on various particular subtopics, while on others my views are very sketchy indeed. But I think this is the state in which we all find ourselves, whether we wish to admit it or not. After all, providence, predestination, and foreknowledge make for an extraordinarily massive subject: they include everything.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Discretionary Pardoning Power
Ed Brayton suggests a remedy for abuse of the power to pardon:
I don't think this is quite the right suggestion, in part because it is based on a misconception of the intended purpose of the pardoning power. The power of pardon does not exist to avoid miscarriages of justice (although it can respond to them); it exists to give mercy to the unfortunate. If you look at discussions of the pardoning power in the eighteenth century -- Blackstone, Hamilton, James Wilson, etc. -- you find that it is almost unanimously assumed that the person pardoned is a genuine criminal, rightfully convicted. The desirability of pardon arises due to the fact that the criminal is sometimes unfortunate. That is, the discretionary power to pardon is supposed to extend to cases where justice would genuinely be served by punishing the offender to the full extent of the law. What was recognized is that there needs to be "an easy access to exceptions in favor of unfortunate guilt," in Alexander Hamilton's terms. Too narrow a focus on miscarriage of justice leads to suggestions like Brayton's, in which the concern becomes exclusively to avoid conflict of interests, because the only people are supposed to receive pardon are those who are merely victims of a misfiring of law, and not genuine criminals at all. If, however, we regard a discretionary pardoning power as focused on misfortune -- the criminals who are truly criminals but who are (as Wilson puts it) "unfortunate in a higher degree, than that, in which they are criminal" -- then it becomes problematic to make such a restriction, because it puts some of the potentially unfortunate out of the range of pardon. The pardoning power should (again in Hamilton's words) "should be as little as possible fettered or embarrassed". A more reasonable approach when pardons are seen in this light is to make them subject to review for purposes of official censure. This would allow the power of pardon to be as unfettered as possible; but also give Presidents a reason to think twice about using the pardon for political purposes.
The solution is to amend the Constitution to set limits on the president's ability to pardon and commute sentences. At the very least, they should be forbidden from pardoning or commuting the sentences of anyone they know personally or have any substantial involvement with. We do not allow people to serve on juries involving defendants they know or have worked with, nor do we allow judges to preside over trials where there is such a clear conflict of interest. The power to pardon people was intended as a tool to avoid miscarriages of justice, not to engage in them.
I don't think this is quite the right suggestion, in part because it is based on a misconception of the intended purpose of the pardoning power. The power of pardon does not exist to avoid miscarriages of justice (although it can respond to them); it exists to give mercy to the unfortunate. If you look at discussions of the pardoning power in the eighteenth century -- Blackstone, Hamilton, James Wilson, etc. -- you find that it is almost unanimously assumed that the person pardoned is a genuine criminal, rightfully convicted. The desirability of pardon arises due to the fact that the criminal is sometimes unfortunate. That is, the discretionary power to pardon is supposed to extend to cases where justice would genuinely be served by punishing the offender to the full extent of the law. What was recognized is that there needs to be "an easy access to exceptions in favor of unfortunate guilt," in Alexander Hamilton's terms. Too narrow a focus on miscarriage of justice leads to suggestions like Brayton's, in which the concern becomes exclusively to avoid conflict of interests, because the only people are supposed to receive pardon are those who are merely victims of a misfiring of law, and not genuine criminals at all. If, however, we regard a discretionary pardoning power as focused on misfortune -- the criminals who are truly criminals but who are (as Wilson puts it) "unfortunate in a higher degree, than that, in which they are criminal" -- then it becomes problematic to make such a restriction, because it puts some of the potentially unfortunate out of the range of pardon. The pardoning power should (again in Hamilton's words) "should be as little as possible fettered or embarrassed". A more reasonable approach when pardons are seen in this light is to make them subject to review for purposes of official censure. This would allow the power of pardon to be as unfettered as possible; but also give Presidents a reason to think twice about using the pardon for political purposes.
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