Once again we will be considering Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Last time we considered it in the context of epistemology. This time I would like to consider it in the light of ontology. I offer a pair of ideas, the first via quotations from Thomas Aquinas (from his Summa Contra Gentiles) and then, from Nietzsche. In Kubrick's spirit of not forcing an interpretation of the film I will refrain from synthesis and merely offer these ideas as food for thought.
–
L. For whatever is imperfect in a species seeks to acquire the perfection of that species. Thus, whoso has an opinion about a matter, and therefore an imperfect knowledge about it, for this very reason is spurred to the desire for certain knowledge about it.
This immediate vision of God is promised to us in Holy Scripture: We see now through a glass in a dark manner; but then face to face. It would be impious to understand this in a material way, and imagine a material face in the Godhead. Nor is it possible for us to see God with a bodily face. Thus then we shall see God face to face, because we shall see Him immediately, even as a man whom we see face to face.
It is through this vision that we become most like God, and participators of His blessedness, since God understands His substance through His essence, and this is His blessedness. Therefore it is said (I John iii.2): When he shall appear, we shall be like to Him; because we shall see Him as He is.
LII. However, it is not possible for any created substance to attain, by its own power, to this way of seeing God. For that which is proper to the higher nature cannot be acquired by a lower nature, except through the action of the higher nature to which it properly belongs. . . Therefore no intellectual substance can see God through the divine essence, unless God Himself bring this about.
If any two things have to be united together so that one be formal and the other material, their union must be completed by an action on the part of the one that is formal, and not by the action of the one that is material; for the form is the principle of action, whereas matter is the passive principle.
Hence it is said (Rom. vi. 23): The grace of God is life everlasting. For we have proved that man's happiness consists in seeing God, which is called life everlasting.
LIV. There should be proportion between the one understanding and the thing understood. But there is no proportion between the created intellect, even perfected by this light, and the divine substance; for there still remains an infinite distance between them. Therefore the created intellect cannot be raised by any light to see the divine substance.
. . . because it is not seen as perfectly by the created intellect as it is visible, even as one who holds a demonstrated conclusion as an opinion is said to know it but not to comprehend it, because he does not know it perfectly, that is, scientifically, although there be not part of it that he does not know.
LIX. All the intellect sees in the divine substance, it sees at once. Hence Augustine says: Our thoughts will not then be unstable, going to and fro from one thing to another, but we shall see all we know by one glance.
LXI. Therefore this vision takes place in a kind of participation in eternity. Moreover this vision is a kind of life, because the act of the intellect is a kind of life. Therefore by that vision the created intellect becomes a partaker of eternal life. . . The intellectual soul is created on the border line between eternity and time. . . therefore by this vision it enters into a participation of eternity. . .
For this reason our Lord says (Jo. xvii. 3): This is eternal life, that they may know Thee, the only true God.
–
Regarding Nietzsche
(Picking up on our discussion of Nietzsche from our previous look at 2001.)
What of the man of the final scenes? What does he do? It is he who creates from the primordial soup or is it the monolith? Does he do everything or nothing? Is he creative or impotent? Is his final gesture one of supplication or resolve? Affirmation or negation? Clearly his final reaction to the monolith differs from the others. Is he the übermensch or the last man?
With both St. Thomas and Nietzsche in mind:
Consider the title of the final act:Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite. Consider the use of György Ligeti's Requiem in the famous "Star Gate" scene. Who dies and who is born? Lastly, is the monolith ever comprehended by anyone in the film? Does it actually affect the characters or is the film about man's dialogue with this unknown? How does the final encounter with it differ? Is the scene of the star child birth or re-birth?
Unfaithfully Yours is a much odder movie than I expected and just why it works I am not precisely sure. Yet it does work and it is very funny.
All of the performances are pitched nearly to the point of caricature, from Rex Harrison's cocky and stubborn conductor to Darnell's turn as his impossibly devoted wife to Edgar Kennedy as the music-loving flatfoot, the characters are at the edge of parody. This feature along with the dry and sharp wit which pervades nearly every line of the opening act, sets the audience slightly off-balance. Even the dialogue subverts our expectations and not just with sharp phrases. In the first few minutes Harrison switches between a semi-oratorical style and bizarre throw away phrases ("a cat who had its kittens in a harmonium.") We hear both musical jargon and rhyming jokes ("handle Handel" and "your Delius is delirious.") All of this dialogue is delivered with great rapidity further confusing the tone of this act as the film never settles into one tone. One the one hand we have some rather saucy dialogue (cut off with a few clever edits) and on the other we have giant cymbals and a fiasco with fire-hoses set to the William Tell Overture. No wonder Unfaithfully Yours is sometimes billed as slapstick and other times dark comedy. What will we make of all of this?
The grossly overweening Sir Alfred De Carter (Harrison) is quite the conceited conductor even before he suspects his new bride of infidelity. Afterward he is so simply and insufferably cruel and Darnell's reaction to him so honest and pained we have to wonder, again, what exactly we're supposed to make of this. This feels too serious to brush off with a few laughs.
When De Carter finally takes the stage to conduct, he imagines what he might do to rectify the situation of his wife's affair and he contemplates his choices we enter into sequences in his imagination. In the first scene the director plays the tone as if it were a murder mystery. Carter's wife is now wholly, and devilishly, complicit in her affair with Tony's secretary. For his revenge Carter executes a brilliant and elaborate set up of the two adulterers, offing his wife and framing his secretary for the deed. All set to the overture to Rossini's Semiramide he prepares the frame: dispatching his wife, sharpening the blade, and getting Tony's fingerprints on it. Carter orchestrates the crime to perfection so that one carefully timed phone-call from the lobby sets the events in motion to doom his secretary. The scene concludes with Carter enjoying a hilariously over-the-top cackle at Tony's trial.
In the second sequence, set to the prelude to Tannhäuser and maintaining a melodramatic tone, Carter is resigned to the wandering of his wife's heart. He does not blame her but rather excuses her and even writes her a check so she can go off with Tony and be happy with him, free from want. In the final sequence Carter is manic, challenging Tony to a game of Russian roulette.
Each scene matches the tone and tempo of the music and the concert hall serves as an effective point of departure. Now these stirrings of his imagination have so inspired Carter that he gives the greatest conducting performance of his career. . . from which he promptly bolts to try and setup the crime at his apartment. The ensuing string of mishaps is the lowest humor in the movie, a flurry of slapstick with running gags, a foot through a chair, and a pin in the buttocks, but Harrison plays it completely straight to hilarious result. Instead of orchestrating the masterful plot of his dreams he sits amidst the rubble of his room, mussed, foiled and struggling with the Simplicitas Home Recorder.
The ultimate reconciliation with his wife, again set to Tannhäuser, makes a sort of coda to the film, and to continue the analogy the whole film's structure is rather musical. We get a sort of exposition of all the traditional styles of comedy with a hodgepodge of characters and tones. This gives way to three variations on a second act which played straight are not funny in themselves but humorous as contrasting resolutions to the plot. He then settles on a full-fledged slapstick finale before tying the plot and romance up with a coda. The couple's love, which we really have to take for granted since it is not developed, may serve only to tie the whole mess of things together. The coda too with its Wagnerian background and exaggerated romantic speechifying is far over the top.
Again we must ask: what do we make of this? Is it a mess, uneven, revolutionary? This structure is more novel even than it appears due to how it unifies the highly disparate stylistic features of the movie and complements its character, and in this respect Unfaithfully Yours stands above other loosely structured comedies. The opening is a whimsical potpourri of styles, tones, and clichés. Only Carter's cruelty stands out too much. A normal film would have staked out its bounds and stayed within them to tell its story. You should need multiple films to contrast these styles but Sturges here with his "musical" structure fits them all in one movie.
Maestro James Levine on his start, conducting, teaching, getting into opera, and a lifetime of music. Since his start in 1971 Levine has conducted over 2,400 performances at the Metropolitan Opera, including works by Berg, Berlioz, Debussy, Mascagni, Mozart, Puccini, Satie, Schoenberg, Strauss, Stravinsky, Verdi, and Wagner,
Intelligence in War: The Value–and Limitations–About What the Military Can Learn About the Enemy.
by John Keegan. 2002.
"Intelligence is the handmaiden, not the mistress, of the warrior."
The ten or so reviews on the cover of and in John Keegan's Intelligence in War all puzzle me a bit. The book is "witty," "wise," "well-written," and "sharp." It will be "an object of study" and it contains "expert [theorizing]." Too it is "fascinating" and filled with "drama." None said the book is persuasive, which I overwhelmingly find it. In fact after reading Intelligence in War Keegan's thesis seems self-evident. Yet it is often the case that the most simplistic observation or phenomenon requires the most detailed and careful study to explain. Keegan surely does this: Keegan's 349-page book is dense with troop strengths, sizes and locations, details about who knew what and when, and discussions of alternative explanations for every given phenomenon. Yet necessary as that research may be to Keegan's argument it is the axioms about war in general which stick in the memory and to which we return. This isn't just a book about how different commanders spied on their enemies, but a theory about what intelligence is and what it can, and cannot, offer the military.
Keegan appropriately begins at the beginning which is a sort of lingo boot camp where we are introduced to real-time intelligence (rare intelligence on who knows what in sufficient time to make effective use of the news), strategic intelligence (knowledge of the character of the enemy, its size and capability, its dispositions and the nature of the terrain) and signal intelligence (captured enemy communications.) To these classifications Keegan adds a few caveats: 1) all intelligence is subject to its accuracy, timeliness, and the interpretation put on it, 2) the best intelligence won't help if the defense is too weak to profit by it, 3) intelligence is generally necessary but not sufficient for victory, 4) willpower counts for more than foreknowledge. Throughout Intelligence in War we will see these cautions play out from Napoleon to the Falklands, sometimes in great successes and sometimes in great defeats, in turns expected and surprising, in strokes of luck fortunate and disastrous.
I. Chasing Napoleon & Jackson in the Shenandoah
The first of Keegan's studies examines Lord Horatio Nelson's chase after Napoleon's Egypt-bound fleet in 1798. Commanded by Vice-Admiral Brueys and headed for Egypt with a convoy of nearly 300 ships escorted by his 22 warships the French fleet departed from Toulon on 19 May and Nelson planned to intercept. Unfortunately, the sea did not cooperate and a storm scattered Nelson's scout ships and damaged his own. Another obvious yet important maxim may now be observed: the sea is very large and it is very hard to find someone on it. With that in mind Nelson's task would seem impossible: reconvene with his fleet, track down the French fleet, and defeat it. The first task would have been easier had his captains followed his directions to sail at a particular pattern and latitude should they get separated. (In fact they did obey but broke formation a day sooner than Nelson's arrival, only one day beyond the stipulated instructions.) It was thus the situation that a scattered English fleet was seeking both Napoleon and each other.
Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson
It is impossible here to describe the ensuing chase through the Mediterranean, but of the intelligence quest we must note that Nelson had to balance his original orders and the intelligence he first set sail with, partially incorrect intelligence from London (assembled from both contacts and the indiscreet French papers), counsel from his captains (which he deigned to take), gathered reports (often partially correct), and the general question of Napoleon's plan: if he was going to Sicily, Constantinople, or Egypt. Additionally Nelson faced the logistical problems of weather, communication (amongst his ships and with London), and mistakes by both himself and his captains. To note only such is still to put aside the cunning of the enemy himself, who used disinformation in the official press and commandeered merchant ships to deprive Nelson of fresh reports. Despite several near misses Keegan counts this not just a resounding victory for Nelson at the Nile, but an intelligence victory. Having lost the French fleet it was bound to take time to find it again and Nelson overcame all of these obstacles, slowly gathering reports, weighing probabilities, scoping out potential targets, and narrowing down the possibilities. Keegan's summary of the situation as Nelson would have seen it, i.e. with all the possibilities based on his information (correct and incorrect), is tremendously insightful and making us wonder: how did he pull it off? Who could? There seem to be simply too many variables and gaps in information.
It was not ultimately any given piece of intelligence which turned the tide but throughout the chase it was Nelson's dogged pursuit, his relentlessness, extreme focus, strategic grasp, and operational innovation which allowed him to recover from mistakes and erroneous reports and rule out alternatives. Important too is that Nelson was free from London to make his own judgments. Finally at the Nile, Keegan writes, it was ultimately the killer instinct of the British which accounts for their spectacular victory.
Whereas Nelson was on the French fleet's tail in the Mediterranean, the task of Stonewall Jackson in the Shenandoah Valley was to "mystify and mislead" his enemy. Here too the terrain and available means of communication play integral parts of the story. The South was materially weak but geographically strong and the Shenandoah Valley could be used either defensively or offensively. Jackson elects to use it defensively and attempts what seems the impossible: to keep the 160,000 union troops spread out across Virginia pinned down and separated and to make Lincoln think an attack on Washington was possible at any time. Throughout the campaign Jackson would have to balance keeping Union General Nathaniel Banks within the valley, 2) avoiding the Union forces to the West, and 3) keeping open his line of withdrawal to Richmond. Jackson's task absolutely required him to wage a mobile campaign, but to do so he would need to out-maneuver Banks in the valley and monitor all movements inside and around it. Offering invaluable aid in this endeavor was the mapmaker Jedediah Hotchkiss who provided Jackson with accurate maps of the valley. The Shenandoah, with its different names for the same place and different places with the same name, its rivers, mountain passes, and railways, would prove vexing for the Northern generals who lacked firsthand knowledge and even maps.
Shenandoah Valley
Keegan's account of the brilliant Jacksonian campaign of misdirection and diversion is as detailed and gripping as Nelson's tale and equally revealing about both the general's mind and the quality of his troops. Jackson had to contend with the positions of many Union generals as well as provide the needed support for Lee and Johnston. While he had the assets of Hotchkiss and his maps, interrogation reports, and local intelligence (something Brueys had deprived Nelson of) Jackson suffered from incorrect intelligence too: on 25 May 1862 Jackson came upon Banks' men from behind, not ahead of them as his intelligence predicted. As such he could not cut them off from Harper's Ferry and Banks was able to withdraw, Jackson's cavalry under Ashby being off one of Ashby's rides. (Let this occurrence not obscure the fact that Ashby and his cavalry screened Jackson's movements from Fremont and Banks with terrific efficiency.) Too Jackson's first encounter with the Union army in the Shenandoah a month earlier was an outright mess as Jackson was to learn, contra his intelligence, he was outnumbered 10,000 to his 4,000.
"Stonewall" Jackson
Jackson, though, made outstanding use of his intelligence. First was his understanding of his enemy, Banks, whom he correctly perceived to be a political general, not a soldier. Too he knew that McClellan was a procrastinator and would ask for more troops, allowing his enemies to strengthen their positions. Jackson made use of his constantly refreshed intelligence from Hotchkiss and reports from the friendly population to move quickly through the valley. So fast, in fact, his infantry was dubbed, "Jackson's foot cavalry" as they were able to march as long as horsemen could ride, and barefoot, for dozens of miles. With his speed and knowledge of the terrain he was able to calculate the uncertainties of his opponents, often many moves ahead, and draw them in or avoid battle in order to take it on his terms. Jackson was able, then, to paralyze the larger forces with his much smaller one until he eventually drove the Union from the field at Port Republic and liberated Richmond.
II. The Wireless Era
The biggest surprise at the advent of radio communication is what does not change in naval warfare. Keegan makes his point in three short stories from the First World War.
Yes the Nelsonian era's Home Popham semaphore system gives way to the Morse ciphers over radio without delay, but radio silence was imperative to keep your location a secret, thus when drawing out ships for reconnaissance the distances were, in the 20th century, still at line-of-sight. Thus in 1914 with Kaiser Wilhelm's imperial project underway and after the buildup of their navy over the last fourteen years under Admiral von Tirpitz, the German navy, though it could not defeat Great Britain in its home water, could harass the vast British fleet of 8,500 merchant ships in the Pacific. At the time, the British did not protect their merchant fleets with convoys.
The flaws in the British strategy here are many but chief among them, besides the mistake of not providing convoys for their merchantmen, were 1) their attempt to work a worldwide strategy without using their best ships, 2) Churchill (then the Admiralty's political chief)'s war on the North coast of Belgium, and 3) Rear Admiral Sir Christopher Cradock's impossible task of both protecting British trade in the Atlantic and waging cruiser war in the Pacific. The intelligence aspect of Cradock's embarrassing defeat 1 November 1914 at Coronel (off the coast of central Chile), Britain's first naval defeat since 1812, can be summed up in brief: his opponent, Vice Admiral Graf von Spee only used one of his ships' wireless, hiding his numbers.
The search for the German cruiser Emden is one of the most famous in naval history. Lieutenant Commander Karl von Müller had been made commander of Emden in 1913 and with a combination of luck, cunning, and skill, captured fourteen British merchant ships in the Indian Ocean. Duly celebrated by those under his command he was also widely remembered as a "Gentleman-of-War" for his successful efforts to minimize civilian casualties and policy of sending captives away. Müller's success and safety laid both in his firm observance of radio silence and in the vastness of the sea itself. Churchill's cruiser sweeps, of eight ships again still separated by the limit of visual range, could scarcely hope with their paltry range of 12 miles to find Emden in the 3,000 mile wide Pacific. Yet Emden's success was not infinite and though von Müller observed radio silence it was his insistence on destroying a communication outpost and adding to his ship's laurels that caused its downfall. Upon approaching Direction Island the islanders got off a message, "SOS Emden here." What von Müller did not know was that the SOS was to the HMS Minotaur, a ship Emden knew was not far but had assumed was steaming to Africa to deal with a Boer uprising. Having misinterpreted the location and direction of the Minotaur von Müller unwisely ignored the SOS the islanders got off. The Minotaur radioed the Sydney which showed up at Direction Island just as von Müller was expecting his Buresk. As Buresk andSydney looked alike at a distance, von Müller allowed Sydney to get regrettably close, where she shot Emden to pieces.
Wreck of the Emden, November 1914.
The final warning from the dawning of the wireless age comes from the German command's mistakes: they did not thoroughly enough conceal the movements of their ships and they did not position ammo ships as they did colliers. Thus while they with a mere eight ships were able to stretch British naval resources to their limit, Keegan suggests the cruiser campaign had "not even seriously damaged" British maritime trade, citing the losses by Emden and Karlsrühe, "the most effective raiders," at 143,000 tons in the face of the total of 19 million tons of British shipping. Too, "the East Asian Cruiser Squadron proper had sun no merchantmen at all," Keegan concludes. (See Halpern, A Naval History of World War, which Keegan references, for more data on the tonnage of loss, replacement by construction, and replacement by capture for the campaign.)
III. Foreknowledge
Despite the complexities as to how the German taking of Crete fits into WWII the Cretan example to intelligence is a straightforward one and important one: intelligence is only as good as the interpretation put on it. As a corollary one might add, "the interpretation is often best supplied by the intelligence officers who gather it on a daily basis." By 1941 Enigma was being cracked in real time and the defenders of Crete possessed the timing, objectives, strength, and composition of the German paratroopers which were to land on Crete. Too the British Commonwealth forces numbered 42,460 to the expected 22,040 expected German. What more could you ask for? Yet Bernard Freyberg was at a tremendous disadvantage at interpreting the intelligence. He had no expertise in dealing with Enigma and interpreting the decrypted signal intelligence, yet having heard of Enigma but three weeks before the German attack he was forced to make operational decisions from the sigintel and without the benefit of any second opinion or advice. Why would Freyberg expect anything other than a sea-based assault: in all of history no island had ever been captured except by sea-invasion and likewise the Germans were challenging British sea authority elsewhere. In explaining Freyber's situation Keegan quotes Ralph Bennet, the "authoritative historian of the Ultra system and himself a wartime Bletchley analyst" who concludes that while Freyberg may seem to have been foolishly preoccupied with a sea-attack, his apprehension about one, "can only be faulted by an abuse of hindsight." [Keegan, 171] One does not simply study raw Enigma decrypts and make decisions based on them, they need to be woven into a pattern intelligible to a commander.
Bennet and Keegan both emphasize the fact that "force as well as foreknowledge is needed to win battles." Convinced of a sea-based assault to come Freyberg then does not commit the needed quantity of troops to repel the German airborne attack and the island is lost, though that is not the end of the story. [Keegan, 179] Despite their victory the attacking Germans were in fact hurt by their intelligence. They were told the Cretan garrison was 12,000, that there would be light resistance, and that they would be welcomed by the native population: assertions all of which proved incorrect. Nonetheless the "almost mindless courage" of the 7th Airborne and 5th Mountain Divisions "in almost berserker mode" took Crete. Too they took it from the New Zealand troops, troops Rommel himself said were "the best he ever met," including his own. [Keegan, 324]
German Paratroopers landing on Crete
On the fall of Crete Keegan concludes, "a defending force, uncertain of how to respond to impending danger. . . is at a disadvantage against an enemy who has his aim clearly in mind." [Keegan, 179]
The Battle of Midway provides another case study which forces us to question just what intelligence means to winning battles. I will discuss some of the intelligence aspects of Midway in tandem with those of the Atlantic U-boat war, but a few points should be made unique to Midway. First is that the U.S. had little if any inkling of the effect the Doolittle raids had on Japanese honor and thus the degree to which the raids would refocus their endeavors on the U.S. and, ultimately, Midway. Second is that the battle represented a contrast of command styles: while the Japanese Navy was created on the Western model, its operational methods were not Western. The Western way of war centers on singularity of aim and concentration of force whereas the Asian favors complexity and diffusion. Third is the degree to which chance plays a role, often a sizable one. Consider the following turns of events:
Admiral Chūichi Nagumo's reconnaissance plane leaves late due to mechanical difficulty. The sky is spotted with clouds. Nagumo changes direction and a group of Hornets is intercepted by 60 Zeroes. The Hornets are lost but the fight brings down the Zeroes from the height they should be at to protect their carriers. More American aircraft follow and take out the four unprotected Japanese carriers. Then the U.S. submarine Nautilus sails astray and attracts the attention of the Japanese fleet, from which one destroyer breaks off to give chase. U.S. planes spot the Japanese ship's wake and follow it back to its fleet and report the Japanese fleet's position to American commanders. In a matter of hours Nagumo's situation is radically altered. Too in Nagumo's tactics we see familiar fatal flaws we saw in Jackson's enemies and Cradock's orders: 1) he simply was not trained to think in terms of the speeds and distances necessary to adapt, 2) he had two obligations he could not equally meet: defend the landing force and draw the U.S. Carriers in to battle. Frustrated by his intelligence, Nagumo dithered, unsure which effort to prioritize and attempting to do both. Backed up by Rochefort's intelligence and without the luxury of indecision the American commanders went all in with their attacks.
Commanders at Midway:
Admirals Raymond Spruance (l) and Frank J. Fletcher (c.) and Fleet Admiral Chester A. Nimitz
IV. Cryptography During WWII
"Intelligence did not win the war, but it shortened it."
Keegan's sections on the breaking of the Enigma and the Japanese Purple the most traditionally spy-like of the book. In the Pacific, Purple decrypts yielded little due to radio silence. In the Atlantic Enigma was eventually being decrypted in real time. Yet such was due mostly to sloppiness on the part of certain branches (the newer branches like the Luftwaffe which did not have the benefit of any tradition, let alone one of strict and tested procedures and special schooling.) In contrast the Kreigsmarine was an older service and observed in its use of cryptography sensible and tested protocols including 1) training to avoid particular types of mistakes, 2) operating on the premise that the enemy was listening, 3) using as few transmissions as possible, and 4) constantly reviewing the security of the system. Unfortunately such methods were undone undone by the fact that the U-boat operators did not even both using Enigma's fourth rotator and many reports were re-broadcasted unencrypted or weakly encrypted by shore stations.
Again though, Keegan suggests it was not that the Bletchley Park code-breakers steered the convoys away from Dönitz's wolf-pack traps but a host of factors which led to the failure of the German U-boat war in the Atlantic and the triumph of the British merchant fleet. Among those factors were that Dönitz never secured funding to create the numbers of boats he needed to conduct his campaign, too he did not vary his techniques and tactics. Also, while the German torpedoes had improved, the U-boats still relied on Nelsonian line of sight to acquire their targets. Too the open environment of the British government with its "need-to-know" was more fruitful than the secrecy in the German hierarchy. Ultimately, though, Keegan credits the merchantmen's perseverance with the victory.
V2 on Meillerwagen mobile platform.
There are a few final and clear intelligence lessons we ought to take from the German V-weapons program. The British, despite eventually possessing a wealth of intelligence on the program, could simply not imagine the weapons were as advanced as they would have had to have been to match the reports, thus they doubted the reports. British scientists looking at the intelligence simply lacked the rocket expertise to determine the feasibility and nature of the German program. Also, the "creative tension" of Churchill's government backfired here as Duncan Sandys, chair of the Science Advisory Committee, and Lord Cherwell, aka. Dr. Frederick Lindemann, Churchill's longtime science adviser, were both hopelessly competing for Churchill's ear. When the debate over whether the V-weapons existed came up they naturally took opposing sides to the detriment of productive and inquisitive debate. Without experts the British science intelligence floundered amongst vague agent reports, inexplicable photographs, and interrogation reports. The picture only became clear to them literally the day before the first V-1s started falling on London. (Even though they made two mostly unsuccessful bombing runs on suspected rocket targets.)
V. Conclusion
As is now probably rather clear, intelligence is but one of many factors in warfare. Keegan's discussion of the American and British code-breaking camps is as exciting as the battles but it won't do to recount it in detail. His observations as to the differences in their environments and styles are most perceptive. Keegan also sheds light on the great Polish achievement of breaking the Enigma purely by mathematics.
Only someone with his range of knowledge could make the observation, among others, that Saddam Hussein's SCUD missiles would be hard, if not impossible to find, because their carriers were based on the design of the German mobile launching platform for the V2, the Meillerwagen. The Meillerwagen was a brilliantly simple, inexpensive, and inconspicuous mobile platform which could be rolled out into a street to launch a rocket within an hour.
Keegan himself is a master of weighing alternatives and in presenting his copious array of facts he shows us what seems most likely worked in someone's favor and what appears more consequential than it was. He concludes with a few more cautions about intelligence. First we tend to overestimate its usefulness because we confuse it with espionage and intermingle it with subversion. Too we confuse intelligence with resistance.
Second, we ignore structural and institutional factors. For example, few intelligence officers spend a lifetime in intelligence as many transfer to operations so they can become master rather than servant. How then can we expect experts?
Third, we tend to overlook human factors like an individual's training, his experiences, personal tendencies. We tend to see scientists as rational automatons who couldn't possibly be pig-headed and stubborn like Lord Cherwell, who had the mathematics on his side as far as English scientists knew. We tend to see incompetence or corruption where there might be more subtle human failings. The "Cambridge Spies" were shuffled around despite their terribly poor personal behavior due to the permissiveness of their superiors, the "indulgence of the well-behaved for the naughty," which they hoped would free them from charges of pomposity and stuffiness. [Keegan, 337] Churchill expected his Special Operations to sow the seeds of dissent in Nazi Europe. He expected his German opponents to be gentleman like the Boers he fought years ago. He realized niether the degree to which the overturning of German culture, currency, and monarchy had left the people prey to the self-righteousness of the Nazi party nor the degree to which the Nazis would bring down vicious cruelty on those who threatened it.
Lastly, we have fallen prey to the myth that somehow special or intelligence operations are as effective, more deadly, and cheaper than fighting and winning wars. There are no simple, cheap, and guaranteed paths to victory. In fact, even with intelligence, even with intelligence and numbers in your advantage, you're not guaranteed. . . well, anything. It wasn't the intelligence that won, but the ferocity of the British fleet, it was the Confederate troops who marched barefoot, the frenzied German paratroopers, and the relentless British merchantmen that won the day. The tenacity of a commander, wise speculation and covert deployment, timing and luck all play their part. Intelligence is often necessary but never sufficient, and certainly never a substitute for the will to win.
A Few More Observations
Intelligence in War is indeed meticulously researched and this virtue lends further credence to Keegan's thesis. No one could accuse him of cherry-picking his facts. He really does seem to delve into every conceivable aspect of a situation. From capabilities of individual ships to expenses to miles of cable laid to letters and documents, this books is painstakingly researched. It is also copiously referenced with footnotes to works famous and obscure for those looking to do additional reading outside the bibliography. In fact, Intelligence in War might make a good jumping-off point to a number of classic works Keegan references, from Tanner's Stonewall in the Valley to Hinsley's British Intelligence in the Second World War and Bennet's Ultra and Mediterranean Strategy.
Keegan's maxims and general observations about warfare formed from the lessons in these case studies are, finally, the essence of the book. This is, I think, what most accounts for the sweep of Intelligence in War. Even more than the daring escapades and vast landscapes it is the fact that Keegan is talking not just about battles but about battle that gives Intelligence in War its scope. Too, though, his caution about judging with hindsight and his willingness to ask of a leader what he reasonably could have been expected to do in situation with what he had at his disposal gives Keegan's writing a rare sapient quality. This also serves to humanize all the leaders in the book, making commanders like Nelson and Jackson who succeeded against great odds and their own mistakes seem all the larger, and commanders like Cradock and Nagumo seem crippled by their limitations and swallowed by their circumstances. Yet Keegan's thesis is ultimately not a glorification of Great Leaders of History, but an admission that it is the guts of the men on the ground that win the battles.
One regret is perhaps inevitable: with detail of this magnitude only some case studies will make the final version of the book. Keegan includes about a dozen major case studies and persuades with them but surely he has notes on many more. I for one would like to see some of them in a second volume.
Updated: 4/29/11: Results of WWI German cruiser campaign.
–
Keegan, John. Intelligence in War: The Value–and Limitations–About What the Military Can Learn From the Enemy. Random House. London. 2002.
Mozart's so-called late style has not been consistently well-received or understood. It has been glossed over as "neo-classical" and "bare." Many detect an autumnal quality to the character of the pieces, but the style still perplexes: what is Mozart doing here? What is the relation between style and content? Cliff Eisen states what is in fact a subtle observation:
The essence of the "late" style, then, is a return to an earlier aesthetic, one of unity of affect. It is not a return to an earlier style, a style characterized by uniformity of surface: for Mozart, the surface remains as varied as ever, sometimes more varied, more disjunctive. But underneath there is a uniformity of idea or topic that motivates and is expressed by the music. [Eisen, 116]
Let us bear that distinction in mind in looking at these last works of Mozart.
Mozart's final quartets were composed as a set of three, intended to be a set of six, for King Friedrich Wilhelm II of Prussia, himself an amateur cellist and composer. It is unknown whether they were commissioned by the king or, if not, why Mozart chose to dedicate them to King Frederick. He clearly expected some remuneration for dedicating the works to the royal family, though. [21]
Several years later in 1796 the twenty-six year old Beethoven staying in Prague would dedicate his two sonatas for piano and cello, op. 5 to the king. Like Mozart's quartet Beethoven's sonatas give an expanded role to the cello.
In addition to the prominence afforded the cello this quartet demonstrates great unity among the movements. Too, as we saw in the final sonatas, Mozart utilizes a mix of thematic and contrapuntal development, often with close imitation as in the development (beginning m.78) of this quartet.
Introduced by the cello, the main theme of the final movement, below, hearkens back to the first two. We will see it to be the progenitor of the movement's wealth of material, again demonstrating Mozart's genius for coaxing material from a single theme.
Quartet in D, KV.575. Main theme, m.1-3
In each of the episodes of this snappy rondo our main theme, or part of it, shows some new face through imitation or inversion or against a counter-melody (also sprung from the main theme.)
Below the main theme enters in the 1st violin joined by the second violin with the theme a half-measure later and an octave below. Then (m.46) with inverted versions the viola joins the 1st violin and the cello the second:
Quartet in D, KV.575. m.44-49
(click to enlarge)
Below we see both types of development at once: the main theme imitated in inversion in the lower voices and a counter-melody same in the violins.
Quartet in D, KV.575. m.112-119
(click to enlarge)
28. String Quartet in B-flat, KV.589 - Allegro assai
Here too it is the rondo finale that receives contrapuntal treatment. It is also by far the shortest finale of this set, a feature which, when combined with the suddenness and brevity of the contrapuntal procedures and the short flitting figures, the 6/8 meter, and allegro assai tempo gives the movement a puckish, fleeting quality.
The viola starts off straightway with contrary motion to the violins, which the cello continues after the repeat at bar nine. Abert summarizes the essence of the procedures in this set:
Here too contrapuntal procedures permeate the entire style, offsetting individual ideas one against the other, inverting them and repeatedly interpolating them between thematic and homophonic sections. [Abert, 1221]
29. String Quartet in F, KV.590 - Allegro
This quartet too concludes with a contrapuntal finale, though this time in a more or less sonata form. It is also substantially more contrapuntal than any other movement in the set. Instead of flashes of imitation and inversion we have sustained fugato. Too this finale is essentially monothematic, with the main theme (below) always at the center or nearby. The rushing semiquavers sweep us along and the fugatos seems as whipped up tempests, though energetic as they rush they never startle or overwhelm. They are great but not terrible. The main theme, roused as it gets, is at heart breezy and genteel.
Perhaps, though, this allegro is of a more intimate variety? Is there something personal about the "genteel" theme; is it more of a character? It is the only theme of the movement. Is there something autumnal about it, like the mood of the preceding menuet? Perhaps it makes a polite entrance, goes about its business, endures its share of storms, and makes a graceful exit.
Quartet in F, KV.590. m.1-8: main theme.
(click to enlarge)
Mozart would eventually sell the set to publisher Artaria in June 1790 for what he called "a trifle." [22] It was published posthumously the following year without any dedication to King Frederick.
–
Artaria published these final quintets, KV.593 in D from December 1790 and KV.614 in E-flat from April the following year, in 1793. A. H. King suggested that due to their marked stylistic differences and similar title pages (both bore "composto per un amatore ungarese") Mozart perhaps conceived them as a pair [King, 56 ] (like the wind octets/serenades in E-flat and C minor, the last two symphonies, and the Concertos KV.488 and KV.491.) Too in both quintets the menuet is placed third among the movements, unlike the earlier quintets.
30. String Quintet in D, KV.593
This quintet, the "masterpiece of the least productive year in Mozart's life" [King, 57] begins with a slow introduction, adagio in Mozart's hand but usually printed larghetto. It is the only quintet to begin so and this slow movement will return at the end of the work, just before a short coda consisting of the main theme from the opening of the allegro. Of this unique symmetry Hans Keller asked,
Is there another piece in the entire chamber musical repertory whose beginning is its end; where the identical structure first sounds like the ideal opening and finally, like the only possible conclusion?[23]
String Quintet in D, KV.593. m.22-27.
(click to enlarge)
Perhaps not in chamber music, though Beethoven returns to the grave opening at the end of the first movement to the Sonata for Piano in C minor, Op.13.
We see canonic procedures throughout the movement: in the exposition (of the dotted figure from m.28), in the development (of the descending figure of the main theme), and in the recapitulation (of the trilled figure of the main theme and the dotted figure from m.28) all of which stand out from the larghetto with its resigned figure and bass response and the vigorous call of the forte-piano figure of the main theme.
While we see similar canonic writing in the menuetto, it is the finale which truly surprises. Who would expect the contrapuntal flights to come from the movement beginning with the almost comic opening of the first ten bars? First we have the fugato beginning at m.54 with the trilled figure. Then at the opening of the development the following theme, a close relative of the opening measures, enters:
Quintet in D, KV.593. Allegro Finale: m104-108
Skiing along briskly against triplet figures it sweeps us up, but what is to become of it? It works its way down from the 1st violin to the viola, but when it gets to the bass it is rather a loose/free retrograde version of it which appears and which will be the subject of the following fugato. After the main theme returns at the recapitulation it shortly enters into counterpoint with the trilled subject.
The movement builds up to this polyphonic climax, comparable to the finale of the Jupiter which resolves through a haunting six-bar chromatic cadence, before the music spins to its dizzy close. This extraordinary finale, with its sudden changes from almost lyrical beauty to the astringent tensions of the minor mode that lurk below the glittering surface, contains the essence of what Einstein aptly called the 'wild, disconsolate mirth' of the whole work. [King, 58]
Mozart's friend, the theologian and musician Maximilian Stadler who had heard the young Mozart perform in 1767 and would finish orchestrating the Requiem, recalls that Mozart played the viola parts to KV.593 with Haydn, himself returned to Vienna from Eisenstadt after the death of Prince Nicolaus in the autumn of 1790. [24]
31. String Quintet in E-flat, KV.614 - Allegro di molto
Praise for this quintet has not been universal. Hans Keller referred to the E-flat quintet as "a bad arrangement of a wind piece in mock-Haydn style"[Keefe, 114] and Abert to the piece as, "essentially a far more light-hearted and lovable piece." [Abert,1224] Yet King called it, "music of warm, untroubled delight, and astonishing vitality, almost spring-like in its luminous self-confidence." [King, 58]
The last movement of Mozart's last quintet indeed has something of Haydn's humor in it and too of the the E-flat symphony, the humor of whose finale was among its least admired characteristics in the nineteenth century. It too is of variety of sonata-rondo form and it begins with a theme of two even halves:
Quintet in A-flat. Allegro, incipit.
After a tease with canonic procedures Mozart throws the two halves, slightly modified, into a full and spirited fugato at m.111 until the restatement of the main theme in the minor. Now the five-note-figure opening in the viola is thrown against a response in the bass, which seems about to take it over until the opening figure is asserted forte by the violas and violins. The main theme is now re-stated four times, each against a different accompaniment, here against a triplet figure, there against a forte staccato scalar figure rising in stretto in the lower voices, then against a gentle piano figure in the second violin and first viola. At last it returns piano and in inversion in the first violin, before climbing up with a final re-statement forte in the lower voices and a long rising scalar figure in the first violin.
Many listeners reasonably sense an autumnal quality to late Mozart, but with its jaunty theme, bright fugato and relentlessly fresh variations, not in this finale.
–
Mozart wrote the following "Adagios and Allegros" in F minor for, "ein Orgelwerk in einer Uhr," or what we might call a "player organ" as in "player piano." This pair too is one of contrasting styles.
It is probable that these pieces were played in the "mausoleum" of Austrian Fieldmarshal Baron Ernst Gideon von Laudon, who having retired after a successful career including service in the Seven Years War and War of Bavarian Succession, was called into service a last time in 1789 to lead Joseph's war thus-unsuccessful war against Turkey. After successfully capturing Belgrade within three weeks Laudon, in his early seventies, died. A certain Count Joseph Nepomuk Franz de Paula Deym von Strzitez, who Robert Gutman referred to as, "a kind of Viennese combination of E. T. A. Hoffmann's Copelius and Madame Tussaud" [Gutman, 741] created a "mausoleum" with a plaster-and-wax effigy of the man with hourly funeral music. (If that's not enough to make you want to read more about Deym, he fled Vienna after an illegal duel and returned using the alias Müller.)
Now should you think we have already delved too far into this esoteric world of 18th century mechanical organ music, consider these other resources:
–Deutsch, O. E. Count Deym and his Mechanical Organs. Music and Letters 29 (1948), 140-5
–Dreyfus, Laurence. The Hermeneutics of Lament: A Neglected Paradigm in a Mozartian 'Trauermusik' Music Analysis, Vol. 10, No. 3. (Oct., 1991), pp. 329-343.
–King, A. H. Mozart's Compositions for Mechanical Instruments: The Background and Significance. Musical times 88 (1947), 11-14; repr. in King, Mozart in Retrospect (London, 1956), 198-215.
–Richards, Annette. Automatic Genius: Mozart and the Mechanical Sublime. Music and Letters 80, (1999), 366-8.
–W. J. G. Ord-Hume, Arthur. Joseph Haydn and the Mechanical Organ. University College Cardiff Press. 1982.
–W. J. G. Ord-Hume, Arthur. Ornamentation in Mechanical Music. Early Music, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Apr., 1983), pp. 185-193.
–Zaslaw, Neal. Music for Mechanical Instruments. Cambridge Mozart Encyclopedia (Eisen, Cliff & Keefe, Simon P. (ed.))
–Zaslaw, Neal. Wolfgang Amadè Mozart's Allegro and Andante ('Fantasy') in F minor for Mechanical Organ, K.608. The Rosaleen Moldenhauer Memorial. Music History from Primary Sources: A Guide to the Moldnehauer Archives, ed. J. Newsom and A. Mann (Washington DC, 2000), 327-40
Of the above essays I would recommend beginning with Schaper's, then Richards' essay for historical context, and Dreyfus' for [most excellent] insight into the musical language. Also note there is a third piece written for the occasion of Deym's "mausoleum," the Andante in F major, KV.616, which we will not be discussing here.
32. Adagio and Allegro in F minor for Mechanical Organ, KV.594
Returning to the F minor pieces, let us start with KV.594 which is structured as Adagio-Allegro-Adagio. We begin with what was by Mozart's time the old rhetorical device of the elegiac, or lamento, bass. They often utilize an anapestic (short-short-long) rhythm, ostinato, and a descending chromatic line, all features associated with high style and grave emotion. (Probably the most famous instance of a lamento bass is the Crucifixus of Bach's B-minor Mass.) Here in the first six bars see the chromatic descent down the fourth from F to C in the bass from the first figure of the ostinato which reaches up from F to C. (Note too the rising line leading up to sighing figures from m.20-27. Picking up the fall to C from the trebles the final bass figure three times rises an octave toC until stumbling to F.) Yet it was not the simple use of this device but rather Mozart's ingenious transformation elaboration of it which makes this piece so extraordinary. Mozart uses a series of falling sixths throughout the adagio and
. . . by mutating the descending hexachord by species [chromatic and diatonic], Mozart at once broadened the field for the potential topics of the discourse, and by disabling the metric regularity of the traditional lamento, did away with the formalized ritual of dance rhythms so as to begin speaking in that personalized 'musical prose' so beloved of his Romantic successors. [KV.594] can be heard neither as a generic funeral piece nor as a particularly 'exquisite' (auserlesen) occasional work. . . Instead, by virtue of its extraordinarily affecting representation of grief, the piece must be seen to have both eclipsed and escaped its occasional function, entering into that pantheon of cherished musical works whose substance and aura invite a sustained analytic gaze. [Dreyfus, 342]
The allegro in F major opens with a grand fanfare immediately falling into stretto. In the D minor section the seven-note figure plunges into contrapuntal procedure. The adagio returns but not in identical form. First, Dreyfus makes the most perceptive point that m. 125-132 form a compressed version of the earlier descents in m.8-20, making the fall to the tonic at m.128 an abrupt one of resignation. [Dreyfus, 341] Too it is adorned with gruppetti (figures of the trill family) first against the ostinato then in imitation over a dominant pedal point. A quaver figure arrives, moving from F to C in contrary motion in the voices before the rising-and-falling bass figure returns, this time rising to F and falling to C.
33. Adagio and Allegro for Mechanical Organ, KV.608
KV. 608. incipit
Unlike KV.594 the fugue here is clearly more Bachian in nature. Too it is the first major, full, strict fugue, not a fugato and not one within a larger sonata-form structure, Mozart had completed (for he wrote numerous small canons and contrapuntal studies) in some time. The structure of this F minor piece is Allegro-Andante-Allegro and its opening, with the trilled and dotted figures, could scarcely be more stern. The figure, sans the final semiquaver, enters briefly in stretto. After the ascending swirl up through two octaves from C the fugue proper begins
Allegro and Adagio in F minor. m.13-19
proceeding with exhaustive stretto and inversion
. . .the dense contrapuntal texture eventually thins out for an extraordinary modulation over a chromatically rising bass from E flat major to F sharp minor. This unsettling, even shocking, harmonic detour recalls the destabilizing chromaticism of the opening, and directly precedes a return of the 'overture' material, now insisting on the diminished harmony (the diminished chord in bars 60 and 61 is repeated here, hammered home), and twisting rapidly, if tortuously, back to the home key of F minor. [Richards, 367]
As with KV.594 the opening material returns altered. Here the fugue returns with a counter subject of rapidly alternating semiquavers which lends an even more frenetic character to the already frenzied fugue.
–
34. Piano Concerto in B-flat major, KV.595 - Allegro I
Piano Concerto in B-flat, KV.595 - incipit, main theme.
This is one of the most beautiful and fleeting moments in all of Mozart. The piano twice gives forth the main theme from m.197 two which the strings reply with a sturdy forte response. The first time the winds, as if interjecting politely, add a descending piano tag to the string response; the second time they take it over and then take over the main theme from the piano offering it in a brief canonic procedure before in imitation. Then we get so caught up in following the imitative exchange between the winds and the strings here:
Piano Concerto in B-flat, KV.595 - Allegro m.220-222
(click to enlarge)
that at last when the second violin enters with the main theme and then the first a fifth above in canon we are blissfully overwhelmed.
Bibliography
Abert, Hermann. W. A. Mozart. Yale University Press. New Haven and New York. 2007.
Dreyfus, Laurence. The Hermeneutics of Lament: A Neglected Paradigm in a Mozartian 'Trauermusik' Music Analysis, Vol. 10, No. 3. (Oct., 1991), pp. 329-343.
Eisen, Cliff. Mozart's Chamber Music, essay in The Cambridge Companion to Mozart. Keefe, Simon P. (ed.) Cambridge Companion to Mozart. Cambridge. 2003.
Gutman, Robert W. Mozart: A Cultural Biography. Harcourt. 1999.
Keefe, Simon P. (ed.) Cambridge Companion to Mozart. Cambridge. 2003.
King, Alec Hyatt. Mozart Chamber Music. BBC Publications, London. 1968.
Richards, Annette. Automatic Genius: Mozart and the Mechanical Sublime. Music and Letters 80, (1999), 366-89
–
Footnotes
21. ". . . the two dedications will bring me something as well." Letter to friend and fellow mason in Vienna, Michael Puchberg. Vienna, July, 12 1789.
22. ". . . I am forced to sell my quartets, all that hard work, for a trifle, just to get some cash into my hands and meet my immediate obligations." To Michael Puchberg, Vienna before or on June 12, 1790.
23. Keller, Hans. Program notes on Mozart's chamber music. [YouTube]
Rhetoric is among the oldest and most venerated of Western traditions. The ability to express yourself well and persuade your audience has been the mark of a great man since Achilles railed against Agamemnon. Training in the rhetorical arts has formed the center of all education for just as long. History is decorated with the speeches of great orators and literature with their speeches. Some of these men were great and laudable, others great and terrible. All wielded considerable political power. Beyond a doubt Demosthenes and Cicero dominate the field of orators and their speeches all rhetorical works. Likewise Aristotle's OnRhetoric and Quintilian's Institutio Oratoria hold prime place amongst treatises on the craft. Against these men and works all other speakers and speeches are judged.
Now it would be legitimate to compare any speech to one from Cicero and Demosthenes and to see how it measures up to Aristotle's or Quintilian's standards but it would also be more than a little obtuse and less than a perfect indication of the speaker's success. We must, then, have two criteria: the quality of the speech and the success of the speaker. A perfect speech does not exist in a vacuum rather it must be tailored both to the intended audience and the speaker as a line of dialogue in a film is suited both to the character who speaks it and the audience to whom it is meant to affect. The actor Satyrus educated Demosthenes himself on this point by having the aspiring orator recite a poem and then reciting it himself, attuned to the context of the character and situation. Plutarch relates a story in which Demosthenes, when asked about the most important aspects of oratory, replied, "Delivery, delivery, and delivery."
A speech then is appropriate to the speaker, the audience, and the occasion. We ought to pause and reflect on the audience for a moment. Assuming as we do that the author of the speech (and we must separate the speaker from the speechwriter since some great writers like Lysias wrote for others) is a great writer and the speaker a great speaker we must assume that what they offer is what they think will persuade the audience. Should a speech be elevated or plain, original or traditional, complex or simple, we must assume the speaker thinks such will please the audience. A speech, then, distinctly reveals the speaker's opinion of his audience.
Cicero denouncing Catiline
Today's speechwriter carries a heavy burden, then, but it is in fact heavier still since he must consider not only the Classical speeches and treatises, the speaker, the occasion, and the audience, but all famous speeches throughout literature, from Homer to Shakespeare. Too he must consider modern political speeches from Washington to Churchill.
Thus when a modern speech is referred to as "worthy of marble"[1] we might grow curious: the speech in question, the 2009 Inaugural Address, must be extraordinary. Such praise inspired me to be especially critical since such a statement starts to step on the toes of dear Demosthenes and Cicero. At times we may appear to be too critical, but some speeches can stand up to such criticism thus I don't think it unreasonable to subject a highly-regarded modern speech to the same standards.
I would note that I won't be commenting on the truth of statements though we may reflect on interesting turns of logic as means of persuasion. I decided to look at this speech only because of the praise lavished upon the President as an orator and on this speech in particular. As such, this analysis is not meant to be a commentary on the President in any way other than as an orator. In fact it is as much if not more a reflection on the speechwriter.
I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you've bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.
A fairly standard "thank you."
Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential Oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the Oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents.
He establishes the continuity of government and society with, "forty-four Americans" and "forbearers" and "founding documents." Some of this seems a little clunky and repetitive: "have now taken," "have been spoken," "has carried," and "have remained faithful." The phrase "Have now taken" has set him on an awkward path to maintain consistency. The tidal and storm comparisons are simple and cliché. He appeals to the people as being one of them, distancing himself from the fact that he occupies a "high office."
So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.
"So it has been. So it must be" is much more formal and nearly striking but diminished because the segue is awkward and the segue is awkward because of the tense. The phrases "have been" et cetera keeps us rooted in the present looking at the past. This of course distances us instead. "So it has been" is then parallel. "So it must be" is meant to break the parallelism because the picture of the past is not clearly drawn. Most of the description, in fact, is taken up with weak verbs like "have been" and clichés. Nothing specific has been mentioned.
That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred.
Another inelegant tense use and phrasing: "that we are in is. . ." and " is now well. . ." Finally the present tense follows. Two features appear again which will dominate the landscape of the speech: a preponderance of commas/pauses and a lack of specifics. The war is "against a network" not against anyone in particular. The distance from the people at war is increased by the fact that he doesn't even use any word for them at all, but merely refers to what they do, "violence" and "hate." Interestingly he uses "far-reaching" which emphasizes their reach but not their strength.
Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.
More inelegance with "is badly weakened." More vagueness follows: some people did something bad and everyone failed to do something else. What does "prepare the nation for a new age" in fact mean? How does it relate to the previous or succeeding thought? The first actual rhetorical devices follow in the form of asyndeton (lack of expected conjunctions): "Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered." He follows with another, hyperbole: "each day brings further evidence." The phrase "that the ways we use" is again inelegant. A very pessimistic paragraph.
These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable, but no less profound, is a sapping of confidence across our land -- a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, that the next generation must lower its sights.
The next sentence treats the last paragraph as an argument: he has established we are in a crisis. "Subject to data and statistics" is a peculiar addition. What does it precisely mean? It sort of implies that the data might suggest a threshold for a crisis, but it is unclear. They function to make what precedes appear quantifiable and practice and what follows to be somehow spiritual. What follows is quite clever. Sapping is visceral and effective here, though the gerundial treatment is too lengthy to achieve a strong, concerted impact. Then we get "decline," really out of nowhere. It is wholly unprepared and we go from "crisis" to "decline." How can the fear be nagging if the fear is new? The fear can only be nagging if the decline is in the past and has been perceived and the crisis is present, yet he seems to be suggesting that the crisis is what would precede the decline (if we don't do what is necessary to avoid it.) It would not make sense to suggest that one has a nagging fear that the country is going to decline at some point in the future at some particular threshold, which would require present indicators of decline which would constitute said decline.
Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America: They will be met.
The direct address is meant to bring him closer to the listener again, to come back to him after all of the frightful talk of crisis and decline.
On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.
On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.
This is all quite vague but reveals a few interesting things. First, it is merely an expanded way of saying "you voted for me and my ideas." Second, "On this day we gather" ignores that there were people gathered who did not support him. Here, then, he is only addressing his supporters. He also sets up some strange dichotomies: hope will lead to success and not fear, that having different purposes leads to conflict. These are of course not well-accepted or even intuitive contrasting pairs and he does not argue for them but rather asserts them. None of the "petty grievances" et cetera are named.
We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to "set aside childish things." The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.
"We remain a young nation" is slightly out of place here since he is about to talk about founding documents and of course though the nation is old that it is governed by these same documents and has been for hundreds of years makes it in fact considerably older than many in this respect.
What childish things is he talking about? We went from "faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents" to "put aside childish things." He never names the bad ideas, but goes on to mention the three fundamental freedoms of America slightly modified. Instead of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" we have "all are equal," "freedom," and "full measure of happiness." This is a simple but effective passage, despite the vague "reaffirm."
In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted -- for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.
Again there are no specifics. We don't know how we're going to "reaffirm" anything. He uses no specific examples of events, people, places, or professions. There is no distinct picture. It is meant to praise hardworking, non-famous Americans but is vague to the point of being un-affecting. It desperately needs examples, which follow. Yet the fact that they follow makes this paragraph float adrift. We begin to feel the speech lacks a large-scale structure to relate ideas and create a fluidity which carries us through.
For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.
For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.
For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.
These sentences are carefully constructed to suggest 1) all Americans are immigrants, 2) to praise both urban and farm workers, 3) praise both farmers and slaves, and 4) a praise all military service. It also sets up a causal relationship of service: they did what they did for us. As we see in many other places, this needs something to persuade us. Perhaps he could have addressed them or utilized an abrupt pause? Might not that have been affecting here?
Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.
Again, we feel like we are being told facts when we should feel like we are being drawn into a narrative. The two parts of the second sentence are not logically connected: they worked hard because they didn't believe in "the differences of birth or wealth or faction?" If delivered in a rapid, excited, or emotional manner it could function an anacolutha, i.e. a breaking off in the structure for dramatic purpose, in this case to enhance the fact that the "differences of birth or wealth or faction" are meaningless and older generations were great and America is great for not considering them. It is also a light polysyndeton (the use of excessive conjunctions.) If delivered straightforward it merely seems a mistake.
This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions - that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.
What journey was that? Carrying forward the "noble idea" and working for the next generation. What follows is an assertion of power and an assertion that America's problem is one of will and not any tangible force. As before, the ill forces are ill-defined.
For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of our economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act -- not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age.
All this we can do.
All this we will do.
The opening phrase is effective, the two halves "everywhere we look" and "there is work to be done" of equal syllables. The parallel uses of "we will" emphasizes action with more specifics than before in the speech. The couplet makes concrete the assertions.
Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions -- who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.
This is an interesting bit of logic. He gathers his critics into one group and says their criticism amounts to being short-sighted and ignorant of American's greatness. This clever turn of logic would have been made much more powerful had he followed with any example. Too it is of interest to note that he cites what the country has done as an example that great things can be done and ascribes the success of those things to imagination and unity but not the actual skill it took to do them (whatever it was.) This is the essential logic of the speech. We will see it play out again later: communism and fascism were defeated not with tanks but alliances. Nuclear dangers will be avoided "with allies."
What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them -- that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works -- whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account -- to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day -- because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.
More interesting logic here. He again bypasses any negative ideas or criticisms: "they no longer apply" and "the question we ask to day is not. . ." This paragraph is somewhat awkward insofar as it alternates between extremely brief phrases like "programs will end" and a very casual style, "jobs at a decent wage," "care they can afford," ". . . that is dignified," "reform bad habits." These are very familial virtues. The paragraph concludes with an interesting bit of logic: accountability will restore trust. Not virtue or success but accountability.
Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control. The nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our Gross Domestic Product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on the ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.
This paragraph is unremarkable in terms of style but it contains another interesting bit of logic: it equates spinning out of control with crisis and crisis with favoring only certain people. It too is vague, though, insofar as it doesn't mention the manner in or mechanisms by which anything occurs or has occurred.
As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers -- Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils that we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience'[s] sake. And so to all the other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: Know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity. And we are ready to lead once more.
He rejects the dichotomy between safety and ideals, but does not say why. He asserts "We will not give them up for expedience'[s] sake." Who suggested to do so? What exactly is he talking about here? There needs to be something here to persuade. He moves right into the Founding Fathers building off of "ideals." That transition is very smooth but he says "we can scarcely imagine" which is ineffective because he is trying to draw a comparison. We need to imagine, he needs to draw a picture. (See concluding paragraph.) Interestingly he again avoids mention of specific founders or the titles of the documents, "Constitution" and "Declaration on Independence," but refers simply to acharter (with emphasis via a little anaphora.)
Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with the sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.
We see still more pairs of ideas: fascism and communism, missiles and tanks, alliances and convictions. Again too is the "neither. . . nor. . . but rather. . ." construction. It is also interesting to argue that security, security in particular, emanates from righteousness. Does it? Being righteous may make you many things, but secure? Too, why does "prudent use" increase your power? Prudent use might do many things, why this in particular?
The syntax and sense with the clause beginning "instead" is clumsy. We have three sentences, beginning:
Earlier generations faced down x and y not with a and b but c and d
They understood neither e nor f was true. . .
Instead they knew g, h, i, and j.
First, he throws too much out here which makes the paragraph border on being simply a list of assertions. Instead of building the third statement off of the second the sentences should have been kept parallel. The third clause begins "instead" despite the fact that the sense is the same as the preceding sentence, i.e. that earlier generations knew something. It should simply begin, "they knew." Obviously this is not a mistake but rather a deliberate, albeit sloppy, attempt to create a climax. This passage has the material ("earlier generations," "convictions") for a climax (lit. "ladder") and it would have been effective here more strongly to link the ideas. A climax here would have increased tension by provided a clear (and convincing) path from earlier generations to today and suggested the timelessness of the convictions. It should have concluded with "enduring convictions" which would have flowed nicely into the next paragraph.
Instead we have the typical situation of short and thinly connected sentences concluding with the awkward and unseemly, "restraint" (which at least should have been replaced by a steelier word, one more dignified and associated with virtue like "forbearance," "moderation," "reserve," "discipline," et cetera.)
We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort -- even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken. You cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you!
This introduction is effective despite the poor preceding climax. "Once more " implies the principles were dropped. This whole paragraph is a much more effective building of tension and climax with smooth transition from sentence to sentence and thought to thought. It is very simple though somewhat heavy on adjectives and adverbs. Interestingly, though, we have gone from, "nor does it entitle us to do as we please" to "We will not apologize for our way of life." Instead of using the word "terrorists" he says, "Those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror." That is a striking circumlocution to avoid the word.
For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus -- and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.
"For we know" implies a connection to the preceding paragraph which in fact is absent. The strength from being of "patchwork heritage" is a strength, but cannot be the only strength by which the enemy will be defeated. The disconnect is more clear if you remove the pause: we will defeat you because (for) we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength. The "we know" makes the syntax and sense more awkward since it ought to read we will defeat you because (for) our patchwork heritage is a strength. We couldn't defeat them if it were a weakness? Obviously he is trying to say that diversity is a virtue but has struggled to work it in.
He identifies not our present differences but past differences as a strength. Where he once drew distinctions between earlier generations and present, now he uses "we" to describe both: earlier generations faced down fascism and communism but we all tasted the bitter swill of civil war. "Bitter swill" and "shall" are clunky usages designed to make the paragraph feel more grand and formal.
To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West -- know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those -- To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.
To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.
He now addresses other groups but does not say much. He offers no judgments of any kind, simply saying they are on the "wrong side" of history. The "fist" image is terribly cliche.
As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are the guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment -- a moment that will define a generation -- it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.
More standard images: an unfolding road, far-off deserts, distant mountains. "That" figures so strongly in all of these constructions it now seems a sort of crutch. Why does he use "And yet. . .?" What contrast is implied? Again a simple sentence without some preparatory phrase would have been more effective: This spirit must inhabit us all.
For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.
Some much needed specific examples if somewhat crudely written. "Willingness to nurture a child" is an odd turn of phrase designed to make the parent's sacrifice seem honorable when in fact it makes it seem optional.
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.
This is the price and the promise of citizenship.
This is the source of our confidence -- the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.
This is the simplest, clearest, most specific, and best passage in the speech (aside from the use of the word "instruments.") It is still somewhat rough, though, as the change of structure from "those values. . ." to "these things" is somewhat cheesy. "What is demanded" is awkward and not vivid enough. This was the prime spot for a striking, defining, image of the "moment that will define a generation."
This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred Oath.
This is again a little vague. How can what he just said "mean" liberty? What creed? The first "this is the price" refers to the preceding paragraph. The second refers to the "knowledge that God calls. . ." What does this one refer to?
So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The Capitol was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:
Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].
America: In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.
Again, this simple passage is among the best. The images are very traditional, the sentences are very short. It paints a picture which would have been much more effective at the beginning to build on and draw comparisons to rather than to lead up to. It also would have provided a vivid image which would have hovered over the whole speech.
–
Brief Comments
What may we say in general about this speech? 1) it is quite light on figurative language or elaborate syntactical constructions. 2) The periodic length is very short and thus the ideas are easy to follow. 3) There are very few details, examples, or specifics. 3) He does not address critics. 4) There are a lot of weak verbs like "are" and "is" which are lost opportunities to be more specific and more vivid. 5) clauses are heavily dependent on the word "that" for clarity. 6) the vocabulary is limited, simple, common, and bland. 7) There is an overabundance of adjectives.
In particular, the "weak verbs" are problematic since they rob the speech of intensity and variety. Consider the phrase, "they have something to tell us" which is completely indistinct. Perhaps it could have read, "the soldier's sacrifice inspires the civilian. . ." Too "we are ready" might read "we stand ready." "They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history" would be stronger if stated as a truism (the rhetorical term is dilation, i.e. broadening the theme to include universal ideas) and 1) more tersely, 2) in grander fashion, or 3) with an image or example.
1) These private virtues make men–and nations. 2) The world moves not only through grand leaps captured by newspapers and recorded in books but also, more I think, through the silent virtues of decent men. 3) The triumph of today's hero might move the world for an hour, but the unprofitable, unseen, and unknown virtues of Americans move us day by day.
These are a but a few phrases which are bland and difficult to breathe life into.Let us compare this speech to one from the Founding Fathers President Obama mentioned.
George Washington's First Inaugural Address
AMONG the vicissitudes incident to life no event could have filled me with greater anxieties than that of which the notification was transmitted by your order, and received on the 14th day of the present month. On the one hand, I was summoned by my country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love, from a retreat which I had chosen with the fondest predilection, and, in my flattering hopes, with an immutable decision, as the asylum of my declining years—a retreat which was rendered every day more necessary as well as more dear to me by the addition of habit to inclination, and of frequent interruptions in my health to the gradual waste committed on it by time. On the other hand, the magnitude and difficulty of the trust to which the voice of my country called me, being sufficient to awaken in the wisest and most experienced of her citizens a distrustful scrutiny into his qualifications, could not but overwhelm with despondence one who (inheriting inferior endowments from nature and unpracticed in the duties of civil administration) ought to be peculiarly conscious of his own deficiencies. In this conflict of emotions all I dare aver is that it has been my faithful study to collect my duty from a just appreciation of every circumstance by which it might be affected. All I dare hope is that if, in executing this task, I have been too much swayed by a grateful remembrance of former instances, or by an affectionate sensibility to this transcendent proof of the confidence of my fellow-citizens, and have thence too little consulted my incapacity as well as disinclination for the weighty and untried cares before me, my error will be palliated by the motives which mislead me, and its consequences be judged by my country with some share of the partiality in which they originated.
Comparison
1) Varied, [More] Complex, and Vivid Vocabulary: vicissitudes, predilection, immutable, despondence, transcendent, disinclination. 2) Longer Periods: The whole paragraph is only five sentences and is one thought. 3) Specific, Eloquent, and Memorable Turns of Phrase: vicissitudes incident to life, fondest predilection, flattering hopes, immutable decision, asylum of my declining years, the addition of habit to inclination, distrustful scrutiny, overwhelm with despondence, faithful study, grateful remembrance.
The first sentence is a brilliant introduction beginning with a vast concept, "the vicissitudes incident to life" and then inserting himself among them. The following sentence is a poetic and beautiful way of describing the call to service, "I was summoned by my country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love. . ." It is also reminiscent of Demosthenes' First Olynthiac, "The present crisis, Athenians, calls on you, almost with an audible voice" [2] a passage which President Obama could have quoted nearly verbatim. Washington's opening also is a clear exordium, or introduction, in which he clearly sets out his point with another Demosthenic device, the phrase "on the one hand. . . on the other." He also, a la Demosthenes, nests other clauses within the "one the one hand. . . on the other" structure. Among other virtues, this construction creates a large scale structure which alleviates you from have to make and link many smaller sentences with kludges like "Yet" "every so often," "at these moments" "for. . ." "that we are" which are wasteful insofar as they add nothing, grow wearisome to the ear, and break flow.
Consider the following passage from Washington's Address:
. . .there is no truth more thoroughly established than that there exists in the economy and course of nature an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness; between duty and advantage; between the genuine maxims of an honest and magnanimous policy and the solid rewards of public prosperity and felicity; since we ought to be no less persuaded that the propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself has ordained; and since the preservation of the sacred fire of liberty and the destiny of the republican model of government are justly considered, perhaps, as deeply, as finally, staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.
It is not so different from President Obama's in several respects, is it?
Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.
Washington's passage is one sentence of smoothly rising tension to a climax, building from an asserted universal truth that duty and advantage go together and ending with the ultimate arbiter of success: the American people. His vocabulary is firm: thoroughly established, indissoluble union; bright:magnanimous, prosperity, felicity; and grand: liberty, destiny. He also invokes the sacred with subtlety and elegance not by quoting it but by adopting its vocabulary: Heaven itself, ordained, and sacred fire. The images are also visual: smiles of heaven, fire of liberty. He does not say values as if values may differ, but instead he says truths and thus doesn't have to double back and waste words to add, "these things are true" as President Obama does. What President Obama says obliquely with "What is required," Washington unabashedly ascribes to the divine, "Heaven itself has ordained." For Washington the "destiny of the republican model" is in the people's hands and for Obama the people have "a difficult task."
This passage from President Obama's speech is not at all bad, but its vocabulary is dull and its lack of structure imposes awkward phrases and transitions. Clearly the speech attempts to mimic Washington's in several respects and the last sentence in the selection is not so far from succeeding.
Evaluating the Speech
It seems prudent first to consider what this occasion calls for in a speech. The Presidential Inaugural Address is, to use Aristotle's categories, part political and part epideictic. That is, it is partly concerned with urging a particular course of action and partly concerned with esteeming something. (See Rhetoric I.iii, 1358a.) The speech fails as a political speech on account of its vagueness. It conveys no course of action on which one can deliberate and it does not attempt to persuade. It can be an effective course not to present the ideas of your opponents, as this speech does, but the course you do suggest must be all the more clear. As Aristotle says, (Rhetoric I.ii, 1357a) the duty of rhetoric is to deal with matters for which we have no arts or system so guide us and which seem to present us with alternate possibilities. The job of the speaker is to make clear and appealing a particular course of action. Too, it would rhetorically have been effective to concede a point, perhaps to re-frame it or to use its truth to his advantage, or simply to appear magnanimous.
As a ceremonial speech it is more successful because it praises the American way of life, though as we saw in contrast to Washington's speech it is vague and bland. It is more successful as an epideictic speech when it simply extols the virtues of "loyalty and patriotism" than when it attempts to be grand, e.g. "Guided by these principles once more" "hatreds shall someday pass."
In addition to the fundamental nature of the Inaugural Address we ought to consider the circumstances of January 2009 when it was delivered. Most notable among the circumstances was the economic crisis. Part of any speech delivered that day would be to assure the people that they chose the right president and give them a way forward.
We ought to dwell a bit longer on Aristotle who noted (Rhetoric I.ii) that three modes of persuasion exist: 1) of the personal character of the speaker, 2) putting the audience in a particular frame of mind, 3) proof or apparent proof of the words themselves. We pass over evaluating the first aspect since such would be an overtly and exclusively political analysis. We have also observed that the speech does not address specific points of policy, thus it does not attempt to prove anything (mode 3.) The only mode remaining is that of putting the audience in a frame of mind. The speech certainly seems to be of this nature as it attempts to paint a situation of a new beginning and a fresh start. In this respect the speech's lack of argumentation is not a weakness and it somewhat succeeds in getting the audience to put things out of their minds. For a speech of this nature, though, the lack of attractiveness of the prose and the lack of structure (which would amplify the euphoric feeling it attempts to generate) are severe detriments. It needed to paint two vivid pictures: one of the past and one of the present. The speech did not do this. With such strengths and flaws I cannot see how someone who was not already in favor of President Obama could have been persuaded by the speech. (Consider for yourself "Mode 1" mentioned above.) It simply does not seem designed to win over critics. The plans it presents are not specific enough even to acknowledge as plans, the praise is not specific enough to endear, it is not grand enough to impress, it is not beautiful enough to captivate, and there is no attempt to persuade by argument. Too it does not succeed in developing a clear, plain style, a grand style, or a moderate one.
Aristotle at the opening of the Rhetoric identified the craft as that which utilizes the best of the available means of persuasion. The author of this speech would not seem to have availed himself of the potential means.
It is easier to say whether or not a speech is a good piece of literature than it is to say whether it accomplished its aim. As a piece of literature I think it is clear this speech is competently written but unremarkable, certainly not "worthy of marble." It pales in all respects before the great Classical speeches. It is seen to be rather limited in expression. It clearly expects less of its audience, and offers less, than Washington's.
Before we conclude, though, Demosthenes and Cicero have another lesson to teach us. It concerns evaluating the success of a speech. Both men rather infamously failed in their ultimate political quests, Demosthenes to rally the Greeks to successful opposition against Philip of Macedon and Cicero to prevent the republic from slipping under totalitarian control. The two men were also executed by the political parties which eventually gained power. Thus while their speeches define the form we would be hard pressed to say they were successful. (They did, of course, deliver many successful speeches throughout their careers.)
Was President Obama's Inaugural Speech successful as a political speech? I'll leave that for others to argue. Personally, one might consider the following: What do you remember about it? What did it persuade you of? What did it cause you to do or not do?
Permit me my personal reflection. I read President Obama's inaugural speech, in its entirety, closely and several times in writing this essay. I cannot presently recall the opening paragraph. I can, however, recall with great clarity and accuracy the opening of Demosthenes' 2nd Olynthiac, which begins with a theme not so dissimilar from President Obama's, but which I have not looked at in several years. Demosthenes' speech begins (translated):
On many occasions, men of Athens, one may, I think, recognize the manifest favor of heaven towards our city, and not least at the present crisis.
You may wish to read the speech here at the Perseus Project, which has both the original Greek and an English translation. This opening is a marvel of compression and clarity. The Greek is pleasing to the ear but not distractingly beautiful or poetic. It is perfectly balanced in tone, neither pedestrian nor highfalutin. It moves clearly from the past to the future, not only moving from past fortune to present crisis but also subtly intertwining the ideas. It makes you want to hear the argument to come. That's the power of but one sentence of Demosthenes and that's the standard for being "worthy of marble."
Posts
Once again we will be considering Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. Last time we considered it in the context of epistemology. This time I would like to consider it in the light of ontology. I offer a pair of ideas, the first via quotations from Thomas Aquinas (from his Summa Contra Gentiles) and then, from Nietzsche. In Kubrick's spirit of not forcing an interpretation of the film I will refrain from synthesis and merely offer these ideas as food for thought.
