Rappacini's Garden
Well, I guess this is really for Joe Katzman, 'cause Once Upon a Time, he told me to try. :)
Do you know the story? A young and handsome Tuscan medical student arrives in Padua to further his education. The highlight of his rather dismal lodgings is the view from his window-- it overlooks the strange and mysterious garden of the mad botanist, Dr. Rappacini. And also the fair Beatrice, Rappacini's daughter. As it turns out, Beatrice has been nutured and raised with poisonous plants, so that the very texture of her being is poison. Yet both Beatrice and the garden glow with health and beauty. Beatrice is not just beautiful, but terrible. Her breath slays, her touch burns, a tear or a kiss can kill.
Here is the analogy to Islam: The precepts of Islam are both poisonous and incomprehensible to western society. How can there be suicide bombers, beheadings, cruel oppression and torture of one's fellow human beings? By being raised with it. Like Beatrice Rappaccini the jihadis are steeped in poison, yet it does not harm them. Islam is only healthy for islamists.
The integrity of Islamic culture is based on kin selction and competition, like all cultures. I have said before that Islam might be described as an ESS, an evolutionarily stable strategy, (or Sir Richard's term, a CSS or culturally stable strategy). In his magnificent book, Evolution and the Theory of Games, John Maynard Smith defines an evolutionarily stable strategy.
Amritas planted this meme seed-- what if cultures develvop both religion and language simultaneously? What if religion and language are essentially inseperable? The memes are strongly reinforced by learning languge and religion at the same developmental stage, surely a great advantage to survial in the EEA. I think this strategy is well nigh impervious to penetration. In Islam there is only one book-- children learn to read through the short suras of the Qu'ran. Arabic is the most "godly" language I have ever learned-- greetings and farewells, and the building blocks of everyday conversation, are heavily veined with references to Allah. I was interested in Amritas' description of Morman and Jehovah Witness missionaries learning arabic to proselytize, but I doubt the missonaries can gain much traction, except with the young. It is well known that the easiest time to acquire a language is under the age of seven-- for example, I can still think in French, even though I rarely use it, because I learned it very young.
Charles Johnson draws our attention to this debate on gender apartheid in Islam. From the outside, it is obvious that Islam opresses women-- but how does it become obvious from the inside? I think this an easier strategy to overcome for two reasons-- 1) the strategy is already mutating due to the osmotic pressures of western civilization, and 2) we understand it better since woman's rights are a common and fairly recent development in all Western Societies.
Of course, there is no happy ending for Rappacini's Daughter. A rival scientist concocts an antidote for her condition-- "a medicine most potent...and almost divine in its efficacy. It is composed of ingredients most opposite to those..." that make up her nature. But for poor Beatrice the antidote is the deadliest poison, and she falls lifeless to the ground. "As poison had been life, so the powerful antidote was death".
The tenets of a free society are just as deadly to Islam as Baglioni's antidote. That is why the jihadiis fight so hard. But the vote at the end of January is the death knell for totaliterian Islamic culture, and they know it. Viva mutation!
Do you know the story? A young and handsome Tuscan medical student arrives in Padua to further his education. The highlight of his rather dismal lodgings is the view from his window-- it overlooks the strange and mysterious garden of the mad botanist, Dr. Rappacini. And also the fair Beatrice, Rappacini's daughter. As it turns out, Beatrice has been nutured and raised with poisonous plants, so that the very texture of her being is poison. Yet both Beatrice and the garden glow with health and beauty. Beatrice is not just beautiful, but terrible. Her breath slays, her touch burns, a tear or a kiss can kill.
Here is the analogy to Islam: The precepts of Islam are both poisonous and incomprehensible to western society. How can there be suicide bombers, beheadings, cruel oppression and torture of one's fellow human beings? By being raised with it. Like Beatrice Rappaccini the jihadis are steeped in poison, yet it does not harm them. Islam is only healthy for islamists.
The integrity of Islamic culture is based on kin selction and competition, like all cultures. I have said before that Islam might be described as an ESS, an evolutionarily stable strategy, (or Sir Richard's term, a CSS or culturally stable strategy). In his magnificent book, Evolution and the Theory of Games, John Maynard Smith defines an evolutionarily stable strategy.
"A strategy is a behavioral phenotype; ie, it is a specification of what any individual will do in any situation in which it may find itself. An ESS is a strategy such that if all the members of a population adopt it, no mutant strategy can invade."But what are the particular strategies that define Islam, and armor it? Two I have considered are the concept of a religion-language, and the implementation of a slave class, in this case, women.
Amritas planted this meme seed-- what if cultures develvop both religion and language simultaneously? What if religion and language are essentially inseperable? The memes are strongly reinforced by learning languge and religion at the same developmental stage, surely a great advantage to survial in the EEA. I think this strategy is well nigh impervious to penetration. In Islam there is only one book-- children learn to read through the short suras of the Qu'ran. Arabic is the most "godly" language I have ever learned-- greetings and farewells, and the building blocks of everyday conversation, are heavily veined with references to Allah. I was interested in Amritas' description of Morman and Jehovah Witness missionaries learning arabic to proselytize, but I doubt the missonaries can gain much traction, except with the young. It is well known that the easiest time to acquire a language is under the age of seven-- for example, I can still think in French, even though I rarely use it, because I learned it very young.
Charles Johnson draws our attention to this debate on gender apartheid in Islam. From the outside, it is obvious that Islam opresses women-- but how does it become obvious from the inside? I think this an easier strategy to overcome for two reasons-- 1) the strategy is already mutating due to the osmotic pressures of western civilization, and 2) we understand it better since woman's rights are a common and fairly recent development in all Western Societies.
Of course, there is no happy ending for Rappacini's Daughter. A rival scientist concocts an antidote for her condition-- "a medicine most potent...and almost divine in its efficacy. It is composed of ingredients most opposite to those..." that make up her nature. But for poor Beatrice the antidote is the deadliest poison, and she falls lifeless to the ground. "As poison had been life, so the powerful antidote was death".
The tenets of a free society are just as deadly to Islam as Baglioni's antidote. That is why the jihadiis fight so hard. But the vote at the end of January is the death knell for totaliterian Islamic culture, and they know it. Viva mutation!

15 Comments:
Not just religion, but culture, science, and everything we can think about are controlled by language. Outside of language, immediate sensory apperceptions and related mental constructs are all the mind can entertain. If you want to build an abstract structure, it has to be through the language-generating wetware.
Mathematics, in particular, depends on language. All the premises that underlie mathematics -- and I mean below the Five Postulates, below set theory; the assumptions that deal with one's ability to distinguish one thing from another, the permanent existence of classes within experience, the possibilty of the existence of discretely separable objects, and so on -- reside within the linguistic structures of our brains.
Adults whose native languages differ wildly from each other -- and in this day and age, you'd have to drag up a member of one of the Indian Ocean Paleolithic tribes to serve for this standard of comparison with anyone in the rest of the world, even the Arabs -- could learn to communicate with each other, but their individual ways of cognizing reality would remain mutually incomprehensible.
It's not just the well-known example of the Eskimos having 18 separate words for "snow". You and I could, using our existing mental apparatus, learn those words and what they meant through careful instruction and observation, without learning an entire new language. But how is our hypothetical Stone Age islander going to understand the word "quasar", using only instruction in his native tongue?
I could go on at length, but I'd better quit now...
Baron, please continue-- that's great stuff!
It is my hypothesis that not only is mathematics a language, it is the language!
"...everything was much simpler if, like Superman with his X-ray vision, you just stared through the cosmetic distractions and saw the underlying mathematical skeleton. Once you found the math in a thing, you knew everything about it...."That's from my current favoite scifi author, Neal Stephenson. But it is a universal truth. For example, evolutionary games theory (egt) is the math skeleton of populations and cultures. When I talk about an ESS, like in this post, I'm describing the underlying mathematical structure of the population dynamics. :)
Actually, I'm supposed to be working, you see...
Mathematics is the only important thing. The rest is commentary. And J.S. Bach is mathematics made audible.
When one compares Islam to western culture they should take into account the changes that we would force onto a culture that most of us have never experienced. But take us back a hundred years. Women were property, couldn't own property, and lacked the right to vote and change any of it. Justice in the countryside was a rope and a tree for many. It was common even in our biggest cities to have most men armed with firearms of some sort. Many places only allowed real property owners to vote. Education average was about sixth grade. Women could be married at twelve. Boys sowed their wild oats. Girls had to leave town. The death penalty was for murder, rape, kidnaping, and horse stealing.
Now we in western cultures expect that our evolution is automaticly better for everyone. And the streets of heaven and the United States are paved with gold. Our pace of change is totaly unacceptable to many and we can not seem to understand why. If we expect too much out of this election in Iraq, we could be sorely disappointed. In the end we will win but at what cost?
I agree that it is our duty to finish what we have started and I believe that we were correct in starting the war. Where I believe we failed is allowing the pressure of the UN, the EU, and the MSM to force the speed of these culture adjustments. There is an old saying that discribes this clash of cultures. "Marry in haste, repent at leasure." The marrage of the west to Islam should take time. Instead we have an arranged marrage that will have a long and difficult adjustment period.
Don, that's true, but we don't have the time if you believe in Wretchard's Three Conjectures. We can speed up memetic evolution if we're clever.
Arabic is the most "godly" language I have ever learned-- greetings and farewells, and the building blocks of everyday conversation, are heavily veined with references to Allah...
Excellent point. English was once a very godly language. One skeleton left from that time is "goodbye."
During my formative years I lived in an orphanage run by nuns. My whole day was punctuated with religious language(even at the age of six, I thought it strange to recite daily the prayer to St. Joseph for a happy death), but in addition there were religious icons everywhere.In other words, it wasn't just thought and language: there were compelling visual images as far as the eye could see. There were statues, crucifixes, holy cards with saints' images to contemplate; each element in the visual image had a deeper meaning, just as it did for those in the 13th century.
We prayed when we got up, we went to Mass before breakfast, we said grace before and after meals, we said the Angelus at noon. We prayed in class, after class and before going out to play. After supper we gathered in the chapel to say the rosary. And after our Recreation Hour we knelt down one last time before going off to bed. Our rewards often consisted of holy cards: images of saints whose lives we knew as well as we knew our own. The day was punctuated with vocalized prayer in the midst of an otherwise silent time. Even in silence we were supposed to pray. We learned to pray in the midst of any exigency. Lose your pencil? Pray to St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things.
The months were punctuated with feast days: I know the saint for my birthday. The year was described within the confines of the liturgical year: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Eastertide, and Pentecost. Each season had its color and that color represented something. Lent,for example, was penitentially purple.Every moment was accounted for.
And God's language was, of course, Latin. "Ora pro nobis" responsively repeated in an endless litany left one's mind free to wander. Sometimes the words come back, unbidden but here anyway..."like a song on the radio."
What that experience taught me was that life had a deeper, higher and wider meaning than anything I could assign to it. From the outside it sounds harsh (btw, there are no horror stories to relate. The nuns were mostly kind, if a bit rigid) but as a lived experience it brought order out of chaos and I was grateful even while I longed for my mother. As Erikson said, children can survive anything as long as it has meaning.
The whole point of this is to compare this upbringing with that of a modern Islamic child. Neither have/had an impenetrable world view; both can be replaced or expanded to allow for other meanings to emerge. It is a painful and stretching experience when one's world view begins to molt, but even when outgrown ( at first I typed 'outgroan')it is a useful remembrance.
~D
Dymphna, that is kewl.
I was once so religious that i left three inches on the edge of my desk seat for my "guardian angel".
But you are correct, as predator animals our visual cortext is very highly honed. Visual impact registers the most strongly.
Umm, and Dymphna, did you ever read a book called "More Saints for Six O'Clock" ?
No, I haven't read the book but I'll look for it.
There was a book I saw one of the nuns reading when I was about eight or so. The title had a great impact on me and I resolved right then that I'd find this book when I grew up and do whatever it took to get what the title promised.
(slow dissolve to twenty years later)... in a monastic library, while doing some research on Patristic literature, I came across that very book. With great anticipation I took it from the shelf and dusted it off. I read a few pages and realizing I'd been had, I threw the book onto a table in disgust. There was no secret in this at all, it was merely a religious tract. The title: The Man Who Got Even With God .
I'm still looking for the "real" book.
And as for angels, we all had one. Sixty little girls equals sixty busy angelic beings. Sometimes we pitted them against one another, always claiming "our" angel the winner.
Thomas Merton, in one of his poems in Tears of the Blind Lions has a lovely response. When asked if he has a guardian angel he replies, "yes, thank you/I have one of everything/even though the nights are never dangerous." Or something like that.
I could have used Merton's words when I was very young for then the nights were very dangerous indeed. The huge dark dormitory, the rows of girls sleeping, the rattle of the wind in the immense,loose windows and the hiss of the radiators -- all this combined to create a perfect environment for breeding monsters under the bed. One had to lie perfectly still in the exact middle of the bed to avoid being eaten by "creatures nefarious" (Bill Waterson understood this)who lurked under the bedsprings, just waiting for a false move by the victim above.
How I survived those nights was the endless repetition of "oh angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here: ever this night be at my side, to light, to guard, to rule, and guide" until I fell asleep.
BTW, another primitive sense reinforcing my childhood faith was the smell of incense. The rhythmic swing of the censer and the holy smoke making trails in the early morning light--the whole gestalt of that sacred space and time -- comes flooding back when I hear Gregorian chant or catch a whiff of that ancient smell.
I forget who said that Catholicism is a very sensual experience. They were right. Though the Jansenists tried to clean it up, they never succeeded. DG, as the Irish say.
Dymphna, "More Saints for Six O'Clock" used to keep me awake with terror at night, especially the story of Saint Teresa whose pagan father cut off her head with a sword. Some holy man glued it back on "leaving only a single red mark around her neck, like a strand of crimson yarn".
Soon after i got expelled from catholic school for innappropriate extracurricular reading. :)
Controlling education with religion is a powerful strategy also, and much more potent in Islam. Catholicism lost much of its power when the latin mass was translated, IMHO.
You got expelled??? How delicious.In high school I was sent to Fr. Danaher's office when the nuns found me reading a 'lewd' magazine. My mother was called in so she could see for herself what I'd been doing. Fr. D. held out the offensive material to her and Mother looked at him, non-plussed. She protested that there couldn't be anything wrong with it since she read it whenever I brought it home. My sin was MAD magazine.
Collections of saints' stories are indeed horrific. Children ought not be allowed to read them. Google St. Dymphna; she's an interesting one. So is Gheel, the Belgian town which claims her (she was Irish, though. Tough-minded girl).
Little Green Footballs is revolting. Not any place to learn diddly about Islam.
Leila M. LGF is not revolting-- i learned everything i know there! The trick is, just read Charles-- don't read the comments.
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