Thursday, December 13, 2018

A hero in his day and all days

I just finished reading an article in the New Yorker (yes, the New Yorker) about Atticus Finch, TKAM, Harper Lee and the new Broadway production of it. The article summarozes the history of Atticus as hero and, more recently, as a less than heroic figure. It references legal attacks on him,
In “Atticus Finch, Esq., R.I.P.,” which appeared in the professional journal Legal Times, Freedman notes that Atticus only defends Tom Robinson because he is forced to do so by the court, that he willingly participates in the segregation of his society, and that he insists on the human decency of even overt bigots. The case against Finch was taken up by another legal scholar, Steven Lubet, in the Michigan Law Review, seven years later, and began to spread to wider audiences.
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First off, I'm ignoring the entirety of Go Set a Watchman as non-canonical. The Atticus that people admire should be viewed from within the confines of the seminal text, not an earlier draft which is effectively about a different character. Next, I want to argue that the criticisms of Atticus are downright foolish. You might ask why and my answer is that we do not improve ourselves by tearing down others and the reasons for the current criticisms are reflective of serious misunderstandings about how we should view history and its personages. Attacks like this speak more about us and how contemporary voices are uninformed than they do about the objects of their attacks. The whole the book TKAM is the Mockingbird. It should be above these attacks, unable to defend itself and serving only a positive purpose. So let me explain my position.

What (every English teacher, ever, has asked) is a "hero"?

The concept of hero has shifted and still defies a singular, fully explicative and predictive definition. A Shakespearean hero might fulfill one function which a 9/11 first responder doesn't, and vice versa. I would suggest that even a more refined construct, such as a literary hero also has shades of meaning. A hero OFTEN must struggle with societal norms and expectations that he sees as being in conflict with a more universal "good" or truth. He must rise above limitations and serve a larger force. But there must be 2 provisos attached:

1. The hero can only move a step or two beyond the social mores, legal tangles or other local expectations of his time so that his act can be seen as influential, reasonable and in-line with the rules of the universe in which he is written. If Atticus had suddenly developed super powers and used them, or if he got up and made an impassioned speech invoking the (not yet existent) Civil Rights movement, his heroism would make no sense. He worked to push society ahead step by step. So criticizing him because he was still a vestige of his time, and he did not rise to a level of twenty-first century consciousness is illogical. We can admire an 18th century Tory for embracing the freedom that will become the United States and not denigrate him as less than heroic because he does not embrace full equality for minorities, a 20th century ideal. A man must move forward, against a tide that would keep him in one place. This does not mean that he must reach the end, for, in truth, we never reach the end.

2. The hero can only be written based on the potential that the author envisions and is limited in his heroism by the understanding of the author. An author creates a world based on his or her experiences and expectations. Harper Lee saw a potential for a better world. Could she have foreseen the world of 2018? Should she then have created a character who satisfies what we, in 2018 look for in our heroes? Of course not. She writes someone who is consistent with the time period of the text (the 1920's) and with her own vision of a better society in 1960. To criticize her hero because she could not anticipate (in any realistic sense, a necessary component to a work of realistic fiction) the ebbs and flows of law and culture 60 years later is, as stated, foolishness.

So Atticus Finch is a hero because he works to advance understanding in his own time and because he becomes an archetype for a hero in any generation, and he does not lose one iota of that heroism because he is bound by the logic and laws of his actual placement, nor because he espouses ideas not currently in vogue.

So there. Mr. Finch, if you would please return to your position on that pedestal, I'll be much happier. Thank you, sir. And thank YOU Harper Lee.

Sunday, December 9, 2018

A Blessing on your head

This afternoon, I spent some time at my big brother's house. It was a celebration. Beer was poured, pie was served and there was salmon. All the food groups were present. But the occasion for the occasion wasn't simply a Channukah get together -- it was the engagement party for one of his daughters. And some guy. Whatever. Anyhoo, it got me to thinking (danger, danger...yeah yeah).

While there, I watched my brother light the candles and usher in the 8th day of Channukah. Channukah is a celebration of the miracle of survival. The dedication and re-dedication of us as a Jewish people to a life imbued with the light of Torah and the vision to see miracles all around us. This eighth day, though, has an even deeper identity. This last day is called "Zos Channukah".

As I sat in the house, watching people eat latkes, tiramisu and sesame noodles, basking in the glow of candles, lights and each other, as I saw two young people who love and respect each other and who are preparing to dedicate their own house among the Jewish people, as I witnessed a testament to the survival of a people and its beliefs and practices, I understood this eighth day.

All of this, all this love, and light, all this starting new and continuing tradition, all the remembering those we have lost while re-dedicating ourselves to building a solid future, Zos Channukah - this is what Channukah is all about.

So to the future chatan and kallah, to their families and to the entire of klal Yisrael, I wish a mazal tov. May we all share in the miracle that allows the light which was supposed to last only 8 days to continue unceasingly into the future so that everyday can be Zos Channukah.

Friday, December 7, 2018

A Study in Science

I haven't seen my dog in a few days. Truth. While the missus (h/t to everyone's favorite, lovable abusive lush, Andy Capp) is away, I have dropped the dog at a friend's house so he can have someone pay any attention to him. I mean, I like him, but I go to work and he sits around all day plotting my demise. It is best to keep him busy with playdates.

I visited him yesterday -- it was a cold morning so I, as is my wont, wrapped my head in a scarf. He saw me and growled. "He doesn't recognize you" my friend commented. I removed the scarf and he stopped growling. So I thought, "I wonder how a dog recognizes a person -- whether covering one particular feature or another confuses a dog."

I decided to experiment so I moved the scarf to a different location, covering my mouth. He growled until I removed it. Over my eyes? He growled. In fact, it seemed that if I used the scarf to obscure any single defining feature, that was enough to make the dog unable to recognize me. Unwilling to give up on my theory that recognition is bound in the discernment of specific features, I have altered my original hypothesis and hope, some day, to publish the definitive study on why dogs hate scarves.