Saturday, October 27, 2018

The ship of state, 2 -- Acts 27 as a case study

On October 17, I pointed to the significance of the ship of state as highlighting grave dangers inherent to a democracy. I need to follow up.

In effect:

[T]he idea is that the owner-merchant captain of a ship (= the people of Athens c. 430 - 400 BC) was blind and could not navigate or steer the ship. Members of the crew (= political leaders and pundits who got that city into the ruinous Peloponnesian war) then tried to befuddle him, and clamoured to gain control of the helm through having popular support; even though they plainly lacked character and competence. Meanwhile, away in a corner was a disdained, “useless” stargazer – the skilled navigator. The fate of such a “ship” was sadly predictable; a grim warning on how democracies can fail.

Now, too, "[i]n Paul’s day, this parable would have been part of the mental furniture of any educated person of the Roman Empire." So it is unsurprising to see how Luke subtly reflects on the parable in his account of Paul's shipwreck on his way to Rome as an appeals prisoner, c. 59 AD. Here is how I reflected on this at new year's 2013:
[A]t this stage, I think things are going to have to crash so badly and some elites are going to have to be so discredited by the associated spreading failure, that media propaganda tactics cannot cover it up anymore.

My model for that comes from one of the red-flag sources that will give some of the objectors [to the design theory movement in science] the vapours.

Acts 27.

What, how dare you cite that, that . . . that . . . textbook for theocratic tyranny by the ignorant, insane, stupid and/or wicked followers of that bronze age misogynistic homophobic genocidal racist war god!

(Do you hear how your agit-prop talking points are enmeshing you in the classic trap of believing your own propaganda?)

Let’s start with, Paul of Tarsus, c. AD 59, was not in the Bronze Age but was an appellate prisoner in chains on early Imperial era grain ships having a hard time making way from the Levant and Asia Minor to Rome, in the second case ending up in a bay on Crete. What followed is a classic exercise in the follies of manipulated democracy, a case study that will well repay study in our time.

It was late in the sailing season, and the merchant-owner was worried about his ship in an open bay at Fair Havens, given what winter storms can do.

The passengers were not too impressed by the nearby settlements as a wintering place. (Sailing stopped in Autumn and opened back up in Spring.)

The key technico, the kubernetes — steersman, more or less like a pilot of an airliner — knew where his bread was buttered, and by whom.

In the middle was a Centurion of the elite messenger corps.

We are at ship’s council, and Paul, in chains, is suggesting that the suggestion to venture our with a favourable wind to try to make it to a more commodious port down-coast was excessively risky not only to boat but life.

The financial and technical talking heads and the appeal of comfort allowed him to be easily marginalised and dismissed.

Then we saw a gentle south breeze, that would have allowed a reach down the coast. (The technicos probably knew this could be a precursor to a storm, but were not going to cut across the dominant view.)

They sailed out.

Caught in the storm (Source)
Bang, an early winter noreaster hit them and sprang the boat’s timbers (why they tried to hold together with ropes [--> called frapping]) so the ship was in a sinking condition from the beginning.

Worse, they were heading for sandbars off the coast of today’s Libya.

For two weeks all they could do was use a sea anchor to control drift and try to steer vaguely WNW.

Forget, eating.

That is when Paul stood forth as a good man in a storm, and encouraged them with a vision from God. By this time, hope was to be shipwrecked on a coast. (Turned out, [probably] north coast of Malta [possibly, east end].)

While the ship was at risk of being driven aground and set out four anchors by the stern from midnight on, the sailors tried to abandon the passengers on a ruse, spotted by Paul and/or Luke his travelling companion.

By this time, the Centurion knew who to take seriously and the ship’s boat was cut away. He then took the decision to save Paul and refused the soldiers’ request to kill the prisoners to prevent escape (for which their lives would have been forfeit).

So, they made it to a beach on Malta, having lost the ship in any case AND nearly their own lives.

All of which is full of lessons from history for us in our own decaying democratic polities today, and in the face of polarised voices and all sorts of hidden agenda, half- truth- at- best counsels.

It is going to take a noreaster to sort out the mess, and there is going to be a lot of serious loss to those beguiled by the bewitching counsels of those inclined to tickle itching ears with what they calculate we want to hear.

Sorry if that does not sound upbeat for a new year day, but frankly things are beyond that stage with our civilisation.

Our job now is to be the voice of sense before the storm, and to prepare ourselves to be good men or women in a storm.

We need to ponder very carefully indeed on whether we are making shipwreck of democracy in our day. END

PS: My thoughts seem to parallel those of some thinkers concerned with the ongoing unravelling of the American Experiment. See here.

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

Plato's Ship of State Parable -- how democracies can fail (a sobering lesson from history)

In the Republic, Book VI, Plato's Socrates put on the table a telling parable on how Democracies can fail. Athens, c 400 BC being case study 1. And while Plato is most often seen here as promoting elitism and as anti-democratic -- which has a point, in balance we must also face the fact that democracies can and do fail and Plato here captures one of the ways that happens. (Later, below, I will initially point to how we can stabilise democracy so that we retain freedom without going over the cliff.)

Over the cliff:



Or, more analytically:


This parable, then, can be understood as a case in point on how the lessons of sound history were bought with blood and tears. So, if we are to avoid paying the same coin over and over, let us learn. (And here, Acts 27 may be also very useful indeed. Later.)

Let me clip the parable:
>>Plato’s Socrates spoke to [the failure of democracy] in the ship of state parable in The Republic, Bk VI:
[Soc.] I perceive, I said, that you are vastly amused at having plunged me into such a hopeless discussion; but now hear the parable, and then you will be still more amused at the meagreness of my imagination: for the manner in which the best men are treated in their own States is so grievous that no single thing on earth is comparable to it; and therefore, if I am to plead their cause, I must have recourse to fiction, and put together a figure made up of many things, like the fabulous unions of goats and stags which are found in pictures.
Imagine then a fleet or a ship in which there is a captain [–> often interpreted, ship’s owner] who is taller and stronger than any of the crew, but he is a little deaf and has a similar infirmity in sight, and his knowledge of navigation is not much better. [= The people own the community and in the mass are overwhelmingly strong, but are ill equipped on the whole to guide, guard and lead it; cf. here the story of the Peloponnesian War and especially Athens' ill advised invasion of Sicily.]

The sailors are quarrelling with one another about the steering –every one is of opinion that he has a right to steer [= selfish ambition to rule and dominate], though he has never learned the art of navigation and cannot tell who taught him or when he learned, and will further assert that it cannot be taught, and they are ready to cut in pieces any one who says the contrary. They throng about the captain, begging and praying him to commit the helm to them [–> kubernetes, steersman, from which both cybernetics and government come in English]; and if at any time they do not prevail, but others are preferred to them, they kill the others or throw them overboard [ = ruthless contest for domination of the community], and having first chained up the noble captain’s senses with drink or some narcotic drug [ = manipulation and befuddlement, cf. the parable of the cave], they mutiny and take possession of the ship and make free with the stores; thus, eating and drinking, they proceed on their voyage in such a manner as might be expected of them [–> Cf here Luke’s subtle case study in Ac 27].
Him who is their partisan and cleverly aids them in their plot for getting the ship out of the captain’s hands into their own whether by force or persuasion [–> Nihilistic will to power on the premise of might and manipulation making ‘right’ ‘truth’ ‘justice’ ‘rights’ etc], they compliment with the name of sailor, pilot, able seaman, and abuse the other sort of man, whom they call a good-for-nothing; but that the true pilot must pay attention to the year and seasons and sky and stars and winds, and whatever else belongs to his art, if he intends to be really qualified for the command of a ship, and that he must and will be the steerer, whether other people like or not-the possibility of this union of authority with the steerer’s art has never seriously entered into their thoughts or been made part of their calling.
Now in vessels which are in a state of mutiny and by sailors who are mutineers, how will the true pilot be regarded? Will he not be called by them a prater, a star-gazer, a good-for-nothing?

Of course, said Adeimantus.

Then you will hardly need, I said, to hear the interpretation of the figure, which describes the true philosopher in his relation to the State; for you understand already . . . . 
(There is more than an echo of this in Acts 27, a real world case study. [Luke, a physician, was an educated Greek with a taste for subtle references.] This blog post, on soundness in policy, will also help)
World-roots is always a relevant subject when we get into seemingly intractable, deadlocked deeply polarised ideological confrontations. But the point is, that too often, the things we need to cut through the tangled thorny thickets to get to the heart of the matter are exactly the things that are most unwelcome.>>
In my view, successful democracy became possible after the rise of printing, the mass circulation of the Bible, the Reformation and linked ferment that interacted with an increasingly literate public. In that context, newspapers became a very important means of public education. Indeed, sound newspapers are the people's college.

Accordingly, I have developed a model:



Okay, more to follow. END