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One of the few really bright spots in a long and difficult week back at the beginning of this month was my opportunity to spend a little down time reading The Trial of Lucullus, a short work byBertolt Brecht. The version that I read was from Volume Five of the Brecht: Collected Plays series (Vintage Books, 1972). After an extended period of searching for a good collection English translations of Brecht's works, I just happened on this volume at the huge Planned Parenthood book sale in November. Pure serendipity. According to the editor's notes for this particular volume, the Vintage Books version of the The Trial of Lucullus is a hybrid of the original 1939 radio play and the opera libretto version of 1951.
Like all of the other works I've read by Brecht thus far, The Trial of Lucullus is masterful. It is both thought-provoking and introspective, bearing the unmistakable mark of true artistic genius. Then again, I suspect all of Brecht's works could be described with similar language and sentiment.
As I read The Trial of Lucullus, I was struck time and again by the incredible similarities of the Roman General Lucullus and our soon-to-be ex-President George W. Bush. The mainstream press in America is starting to get a little sentimental towards our outgoing American Caesar, collectively musing that "W." might be coming around to realize the errors of his administration through the benefit of hindsight. But the truth of the matter is, the unabashed bravado with which Bush has led the U.S. through an eight-year campaign of rack and ruin is just cleverly tucked away under a thin veil of humility:
"The thing that's important for me is to get home and look in that mirror and say, 'I did not compromise my principles,'" he said. "And I didn't. I made tough calls. And some presidencies have got a lot of tough decisions to make."
Of course, this statement was made after five years of an unjust war which has seen the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi civilians, including workers and activists, women and children, individuals...and entire families. And most of them were slaughtered after Bush's May 1, 2003 address in which he declared an end to major combat operations with the words, "(T)he tyrant has fallen and Iraq is free." If George W. Bush can look in the mirror after all this and still feel as though he has not compromised his principles then I respectfully submit that his mirror is not made of reflecting glass but of thick, opaque stone.
Brought before "The Court of the Dead," Brecht's Lucullus was compelled to defend his life and work before an incorruptible jury:
The stakes were high for the much-celebrated general. Had he proved worthy, Lucullus would spend a glorious afterlife in the Elysian fields. If he did not gain the favor of the jury, he would be condemned to the eternal "nothingness" of Hades. Unable to summon his peers and cohorts as character witnesses, Lucullus argued that his legacy as a benevolent tyrant — a liberator through conquest, one might say — was the powerful and convincing evidence he needed to gain entry into Elysium:
THE JUDGE Unfortunate man! The names of the great Arouse no fear among us below. Here They can no longer threaten. Their utterances Pass for lies. Their deeds Are not recorded. And their glory Is to us like smoke, a sign That a fire has raged. Shade, your bearing indicates That enterprises of some scope Are associated with your name. Those enterprises Are not known here.
LUCULLUS Then I request That the frieze for my tomb be brought On which my triumphal procession is shown.
The jury was unimpressed.
How differently would George W. Bush assert his place in history if given the same opportunity as Lucullus? I think it is reasonable to assume that history will soon judge the Bush presidency with the same measure of scorn that the Jury of the Dead heaped upon Lucullus. Of course, Bertolt Brecht is no longer among us and, as such, he can't help us with a contemporary adaptation of The Trial of Lucullus. But if I get some free time one of these days, I might take a crack at writing one. Recommended Reading George W. Bush on V.I. Lenin greeklish.org 04 Nov 2007 Questions From a Worker Who Reads by Bertolt Brecht, 1935 marxists.org The Conquest of the Unhappy Consciousness: Repressive Desublimation from One-Dimensional Man by Herbert Marcuse, 1964 (contains a short exposition on Brecht’s “V effect.”)
Some time ago, I wrote a bit on what I think is an effective and relatively painless way to speed up dinner when the kids are lagging woefully behind. The trick is to sit at the table and read aloud from any book that the kids might likely find unbearably boring until such time as they have sufficiently cleaned their plates. I received a lot of comments from friends and family over my original post in which I first described what I think of as an innovative parenting tactic. Well, tonight's marathon session at the dinner table presented yet another opportunity to give it a shot.
Angela Davis
While browsing at HPB over the weekend, I picked up a cheap copy of the Beacon Press edition ofOne-Dimensional Man by Herbert Marcuse. Marcuse has been an intriguing figure to me ever since I learned that he was a mentor of sorts to Angela Davis. I have read pieces of the book online at marxists.org and I have always intended to tackle the entire volume at some point in time. And so, tonight -- as K. plodded through her keftedes and potatoes -- I figured it was high time to introduce her to Marcuse's 1964 critique of capitalist society.
K. pretty much knew what was going on when I left the table and came back carrying a book. Now, the initial phase of my dinnertime "intellectual aversion therapy" always features a short period of time in which all eating completely stops and we go through a bit of groaning and whining. It's only when the kids realize that I'm both willing and able to read aloud for an indefinite period of time that the complaining subsides and gives way to focused and orderly dining. (Of course, my "analytical" tone here is a bit tongue-in-cheek, but believe me when I say that there are nights when drastic measures are needed to reign in the dinnertime chaos.)
Z. had already finished her dinner and was playing in the other room, leaving Thomai, K. and me at the table. I showed Thomai the book (I had already shared it with her at least once or twice since Saturday night) and she was kind enough to endure yet another of my digressions on why I was so intrigued with this particular work. Using the notes on the back cover, I explained that Marcuse effectively "argues that members of Western societies, both capitalist and communist, must reassert their individuality and personal freedom against the oppression of the technologized status quo." I also explained that the questions in my mind at this point did not so much have to do with whether or not Marcuse was was fundamentally correct when the book was published in 1964 (I have no doubt that he was) but instead I wondered:
1) Have advances in technology such as cellular phones, personal computers, and the Internet (including the advent of 'net-based alternative media outlets, user-generated content and social networking forums) negated the concept of "oppression of the technologized status quo"?
...and...
2) If the answer to the above question is "yes," than is this because of incremental social-revolutionary change or is it because of simple evolution (with the absence of a class-conscious mass movement)? Maybe my questions were a bit verbose, but I think most folks might still get the gist of what I'm pondering. At any rate, Thomai was relatively attentive, yet silent. But the panic in K.'s voice was evident as she came to the realization that any book which gave rise to these questions must be truly boring. She looked at Thomai and said, "Mama...?" And Thomai quickly replied, "You're on your own!" as she promptly got up and left the room. Well played, my dear.
I started reading from the book and, as expected, there was considerable wailing and gnashing of teeth from K. Unfazed by the familiar and predicable results, I continued and after a bit, K. settled back into eating, doing so with some new vigor and a slight sense of urgency. She voiced a few minor protests now and again, interjecting comments like, "This is really boring" and so on. At one point, she exclaimed, "Just what is this book about, anyway?!" I replied, "Let me tell you what this book is about!" and I read her one of the most notably significant passages from chapter one:
Contemporary industrial civilization demonstrates that it has reached the stage at which "the free society" can no longer be adequately defined in the traditional terms of economic, political, and intellectual liberties, not because these liberties have become insignificant, but because they are too significant to be confined within the traditional forms. New modes of realization are needed, corresponding to the new capabilities of society.
She was quiet...still eating, but not complaining either as I broke down a little about what the sentences actually meant. Even though she's still really young, K. is a lot like I was at her age in that she watches the news and has some level of what's going on in the world. Of course, I am realistic about things; I know she can't grasp the intricacies of the important philosophical concepts in Marcuse, but I'd like to think that a basic awareness of the idea that ideas can be discussed, debated and redefined is preferable to raising a child to simply accept conditions as they are so that he or she can settle for life as nothing more than a small cog in someone else's machine.
I stopped reading for a bit and we had a short chat about the ideas of freedom and change. I enjoyed it and K. was a really good sport about it until she finished her last bite and jumped up from the table. I had to call her back to clean up her spot and put her dishes in the sink and I took advantage of the time to read yet a few more passages out loud while she tidied up.
When I posted my original "parenting tips" article years ago, my friend Anthony joked: "You'll only get an award if you achieve the twin ends of both making her finish eating AND take an interest in the subject." I can't promise that K. is going to go out and set the world on fire with her radical ideas starting tomorrow, but maybe someday she'll remember nights like this and make some good use of the concepts that we have discussed. But at the very least, I hope she'll just appreciate spending a few moments at the dinner table with her silly, silly daddy.
Brought before "The Court of the Dead," Brecht's Lucullus was compelled to defend his life and work before an incorruptible jury:
