Archive for September, 2012
Augustine, Machiavelli, and Petrarch Conversing

One place for the conversation: in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padova, where Giotto’s frescoes mixed the old religious themes with a new humanist perspective
The assignment closing out the first unit of my honors first year seminar was straight forward: imagine a conversation between Augustine, Petrarch and Machiavelli. Have them talk about the issues that dominated their lives, react to each other, and bring up others we read or talked about (Aquinas, Dante, Giotto and Boccaccio). The results were spectacular.
I gave students freedom to tackle the assignment however they wanted. One took the voice of Machiavelli, describing the conversations and his internal thoughts — polite to Augustine in conversation while ridiculing him in his head. Another had them all in purgatory, some had them in heaven, one had them in a rather rowdy bar (Augustine sipping fruit juice), while one had them in the equivalent of zoo, having been snatched from earth and brought somewhere outside space/time. One put herself in the role as translator of the conversation, giving her reflections on what they said, which worked really well.
Augustine (354-430) developed the spiritual philosophy and theology that would define the medieval world view – this world is an illusion, designed to tempt and test, but exists only as symbols of a deeper reality. Do not pursue worldly delights or ambitions, those only lead you away from Christ. With that view dominating, it’s not surprising that the Europeans spent nearly a thousand years with little progress!
Petrarch is often called the “father of humanism.” Humanism means taking the human experience seriously. Petrarch, along with others such as Giotto, Boccaccio and Dante, were rediscovering the classics from Rome and Greece, and thereby opening the door to a past that Europe had long forgotten. They were enthralled by the classics, a world where human emotion and practical knowledge mattered — where life wasn’t only about preparation for the after life.

Petrarch expressed humanist love and emotion, but never approached his muse Laura – he loved from afar
Art became more realistic, human emotion invaded literature and poetry, and the material world started to matter again. This led to the renaissance and an expansion of knowledge and wealth. It also meant growing corruption in the Church as the spiritual became secondary to the practical. Niccolo Machiavelli (1649 – 1527) took that humanism to its pragmatic ends justify the means conclusion with his book The Prince.
What’s most impressive is that the students captured the essence of what these three people symbolize. Augustine is the other-worldly mystic who warns about the corruption of the flesh and power of a love for God. Petrarch has his feet in both the Augustinian world and the new world of humanism. He writes stirring emotional poetry to a woman, but one he loves from afar. One student has the two of them reflecting on their similar experiences. Augustine’s most powerful moment was when opened the Bible at random and was touched by something written by Paul. Petrarch had done the same with Augustine’s Confessions atop Mt. Ventoux.

Florence at the time of Machiavelli – the wealthiest city in Europe, yet surrounded by strife, corruption and discord
Machiavelli is the anti-Augustine. He is a humanist and a realist. Of course the Church and God is important, but one has to live in this world with humans who are, as all three agree, base in their nature. Humans are wicked, sinful and unclean.
Augustine’s solution is to go to the mountains and live separate from the depravity and ruin, in monasteries where life is devoted solely to the spiritual. Petrarch admired Augustine but fantasized about living in classical times. He would carry on conversations with Cicero and others from the past, wishing he could be in a world where knowledge and culture were advanced and developed. Machiavelli compartmentalized the spiritual in order to focus on the practical.
What impressed me is how the students got into the mindset of the era, be it the dilemmas of humanism, the impact of Aquinas and Aristotle, or the inherent tension in the methods of the Scholastics. They managed to mentally put themselves into that time frame just before the reformation.
That’s important. It is so easy to think “oh, they didn’t have science yet, they were backward…the Church is controlling everything, that’s wrong.” That’s a view of someone in the present imagining those structures of thought imposed on the here and now.
If we judge history through a modern lens we fail to understand the fundamental questions and dilemmas that the people at the time grappled with. We wouldn’t appreciate how their dilemmas were similar to issues we face now; these were intelligent people whose thinking was not so unlike our own. Moreover, once we endeavor to understand the past in context, it’s easier to see the imperfections of our own reality.
When we get to the end of the course students have an assignment to write about the present the way an Honors class 400 years from now might see it. What do we do that will be seen later as barbaric and ignorant? War? Chemicals in food? Eating meat?
How will religion and science change? Is the history of western civilization — and all other cultures — starting to merge into a global discourse? Might the intellectual history of the West be bracketed — ending at some year when cultural merging makes such cultural distinctions impossible to maintain?
The goal of the course is for students to see their academic journey and their place in the world as part of an unfolding story. How we think is shaped by our cultural past. Even an atheist has views and understandings that can be traced back to thinkers like Augustine, Aquinas and Luther. Instead of being in the present looking at a past whose sole purpose was to create this moment, we are part of an exciting unfolding of history, connected to the past and part of a future yet undiscovered.
And if one sees life that way, learning is not a chore, it’s fun. Learning does not end when college ends, but one is motivated to continue exploring and understanding the exciting and riveting history unfolding. Traveling to a city like Rome is not just visiting another place, but traveling through time as we connect with history. We are not in a world of stress, distractions and emptiness, but are part of the most exciting story ever told — being told by voices across time and space, each voice as loud and important as our own.
That sense of wonder has shaped how I look at life and my place in it. It provides a sense of wonder and awe that transcends daily routines. As a teacher, my goal is to provide opportunities for students to make that same discovery. These papers show evidence that these honors students are doing just that.
The Stress of the Moment
Posted by Scott Erb in Family, Psychology on September 26, 2012
I am usually a diplomatic person who tries to treat everyone with respect. But I am sure there is at least one person who doesn’t see me that way today.
The morning routine here is good, but gets stressful towards the end. Check the backpacks, get the boys to brush their teeth and comb their hair, and then load the car. Then I have to get them to turn off the TV, get their shoes on and finally make it to the car. They sometimes fight, forget things at the last minute, and some days like today we get a bit late start.
The ten minute drive into school was good though. Dana (6) was singing as loud as he could to Dennis DeYoung’s “100 Years from Now,” while Ryan (9) explained his theories on Nerf guns. I get to the Mallett school (K-3) and survey the scene. Many parents pull over and park and walk their kids to the door. Needing to get Ryan to Cascade Brook (4-6) school down the road, I look to see where I can pull over for a quick drop off. I pass the cars on the side, watch for any blinking lights saying someone is pulling out, and then pull over.
Dana knows the routine. He grabs his backpack, I get out and give him a quick hug. The time the car stops to when I pull out is thirty seconds at most. Only this time as I’m about to say good bye a young blonde woman comes up to me.

The scene. Cars pull up to the side, it’s very efficient, especially compared to Cascade Brook’s drop off/pick up
“I know you’re in a hurry,” she says politely, “but you’ve cut me off the last three days.”
I’m dumbfounded. No way. No way did I cut someone off today, or the last three days. She’s wrong. I say “Oh, OK,” and then turn to say goodbye to an amused Dana who runs off to school.
“I know you’re in a hurry, I just wanted to tell you…” she repeats. I mutter an OK, look at my watch, see I’ve got less than five minutes before Ryan is tardy. So I don’t look back and get in my car and drive away, feeling unfairly accused.
Of course, I realize as I drive to the second school that I handled it all wrong. I should have smiled and said, “if I’m cutting you off I apologize, I really am careful to try to watch for other cars, but I’ll pay more attention.” Seven seconds. A friendly response to a polite complaint. She’d have been happy, I’d have been proud of myself and no worries.
Instead, I spent some time indignant. What? Cut her off? I don’t think so! I watch carefully. Perhaps she’s one of those who gets confused and stops and doesn’t do anything for awhile. Of course I’d pass her if that’s what she does. No way. I’m a very good driver. I take safety in front of the school seriously!
Then as I realized that I was letting my mood go to a dark place I suddenly knew I’d let stress cause me to to switch focus from the situation – the relation between me and a stranger – to myself alone. I was being criticized in a stressful moment in front of my kids for something I didn’t think I did. How dare she!
Of course, that’s a me-focus. That happens in times of stress. It’s wrong. It’s defining a situation egotistically, as if the only person that mattered was me. Instead I should have thought, “I really don’t think I did that, but she obviously does, she took the courage to come to me and talk politely, and I should respect that. I can err, maybe I did drive in a way that could be seen as ‘cutting her off.'”
But, of course, the insight comes too late. I acted like a hurried jerk, and she probably has a very negative opinion of me.
My take aways: 1) I have to remember this when others act rudely or brusquely to me. Nine times out of ten people who behave as jerks are really decent people caught up in the stress of the moment, egotistically reading a situation as being “all about me” rather than relational. I just got a reminder of how easy it was to fall into that trap, I have to show understanding when others do the same; and 2) I have to keep working on my own behavior.
I think most of my friends would have been surprised that I didn’t respond nicely to the lady – they’d say, “wow, that’s not the Scott I know.” Yet while I may act that way a lot less than I did when I was younger, it still comes out. I have to catch myself earlier, pull myself back and say “think of the other person and the situation, not just your own emotions.”
And I have motivation. I was bothered by my moment of weakness all day, feeling regretful about being rude — not mean, I didn’t really say anything to her, I just brushed her off — and wishing I could replay that scene with behavior I could respect.
But hey – I can blog about it. Who knows, maybe she’ll stumble on this blog. Or, for those of who are reading this, keep in mind the next time someone responds rudely that it doesn’t mean he or she is a bad person. Sometimes the stress of the moment brings out weakness.
Travel Well, Live Well
This coming May we plan on offering a travel course to Italy. It will be the seventh time I’ve been part of a travel course to Italy with student. I’ve visited Italy five other times, including the year I lived in Bologna while attending the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (from which I earned my MA).
Having just discovered some cool websites involving Italy including Margieinitaly, lovebeautyexperience, and traveling foodie, I’m very engaged with planning of the trip. I’m the “trip planner,” the one who makes arrangements and takes care of the finances (in exchange my colleagues take over a lot of excess work during the trip itself).
The trip is difficult to plan because of the numbers. We routinely have 40 students and four faculty, flying into Venice and out of Rome. Venice is not a major hub so to get inexpensive tickets for that many people requires booking early.
My colleagues: Steve Pane (Music History), Sarah Maline (Art History) and Luann Yetter (Literature) are the other three faculty, and together we’ve created a tight, integrated interdisciplinary course that yields an academic experience unlike any I’ve encountered. Not only are we “on the scene” when we talk about art, history, the Catholic Church, or Florence, but over the years we’ve amazed ourselves by how much we learn from each other. We find connections between disciplines and perspectives, and develop those in conversations with students. The trip is always an educational experience for us as well as for the students. There’s always more to learn!
1. Numbers and Recruitment. While it may seem like we’d be more comfortable with fewer than forty students, the economics of such a course requires at least nine students for each faculty member at a minimum. We’re now gathering e-mail addresses of perspective participants, communicating with students who might be interested, and Monday held an early meeting (with a slide show!) Because the course has a reputation, we usually have a good number who really want to go — but getting to forty can be daunting.
2. Hotels. Hotels are a challenge with over 40 people. Luckily we’ve made connections over the years. We know of a good hotel in Venice, Agli Artisti, near the train station. Our favorites are the FLorentine hotels Abacho and Giappone, just blocks from the Duomo. The Florence hotels feature five flights of stairs and no elevator, but the people there are awesome – we’ve stayed there every time. Rome varies. We usually stay near the Termini train station because it’s convenient, but they don’t like booking large groups. We often have to break the group up. My strategy now is to inquire about smaller groups in a number of hotels located close to each other.

Here I am with students in a Florence park, a seminar about the themes of the course so far (students were divided in groups, faculty rotated)
3. Money. Every trip has had a balanced budget. As “keeper of the finances” my task is to determine a travel fee (cost of airfare, hotels, internal travel, public transportation, airport service, and many museums and events) and keep it as inexpensive as possible. We do pretty good. We get group rate train tickets (much cheaper than the Italian rail passes we got our first time); with hotels we balance price and quality. By quality I mean safety and cleanliness, we eschew luxuries! Students bring their own money for meals and others (though hotels usually have breakfast).
The hard part – determining the price in September without knowing what the value of the Euro will be in May. Sometimes, it makes things really tight. Even pricing in a higher value things can shoot up, that happened a couple of times and it was a struggle to stay in budget. Once, though, the Euro dropped pretty dramatically and we were able to have some group meals and extra day trips.

Not the best quality photo, but our friends at Hotel Abacha (via dei Banchi) in Florence surprised us with some bread and wine one evening
4. Logistics. Who is coming? How many need a bus to the airport? Can we pick people up at the Kennebunk rest area? How early should we get to the airport? Too early and people get bored, but we don’t want to risk a flat tire or traffic jam threatening our flight! One thing I learned is that when you’re traveling with a big group, airlines treat you right. They don’t want to rebook 40 people.
Once we flew Portland-New York-Rome. Due to a weather delay we arrived in New York at the very time our Rome flight was to depart. I was convinced we’d have to spend the night near JFK. Nope – Delta had a bus next to plane just to get our group to our flight. They had held it for us, gave us boarding passes as we entered, and the best part is that our luggage arrived on time too! Another time in London British Airways switched to a bigger plane to rebook us to Vienna (on a Germany-Austria trip) after we missed our flight due to volcanic ash.
Theme of the Course: Travel well, live well. Traveling well means to accept that problems will emerge. Museums will be closed, trains will be late, we’ll get lost, we’ll miss out on something, and our feet will get blisters.
Some people get very annoyed when things don’t go as planned, they get mad at airlines, the trains, and people who seem to be mucking up their day. Stress builds. These people are not traveling well. The key is to let it go, go with the flow. No matter how bad it seems, you’ll have a story and things will work out. Once a student forgot his passport at the hostel and had to miss the train from Florence to Rome. We gave him instructions to catch the next one, but due to a change of platforms about three hours into his trip he noticed the Alps. Ooops, not Rome. But he made it.
Another student had a passport stolen, others have gotten ill, and we get lost and off schedule quite a bit! Don’t let such things get the better of you, look at it all as an experience — enjoy and travel well! My experience is that if you can travel well, those traits carry over into every day life. Problems get solved, life goes on, and you collect experiences!
Still eight months to go, but already I’m thinking of Italy!
An unforgettable train conversation
It was January 25, 1992 and I had just spent a few days with students from St. Olaf College, helping out on a “global semester” course run by Professor Rod Grubb. I was living in Bonn, working on my dissertation, and had been hired by Professor Grubb to come help out as he led 15 students around the world, with a January stop in Berlin. The students were great as we explored old East Berlin, not yet rebuilt or remodeled — a Berlin that is now gone.
I had to take the train back to Bonn, buying the German newsweekly Der Spiegel and finding a compartment that was empty. Nowadays European trains tend to have open seating, much like airplanes. In those days they were generally divided in compartments of six seats, three people facing three others.
Those compartments yielded some of the most memorable conversations of my life. I recall once spending a night in deep conversation with four others on an overnight train from Bologna to Munich. I chatted with a girl from Austria who got pulled from the train by the police when we crossed over into Germany. Seems she had a striking resemblance to a female terrorist – she said she got pulled aside almost every time she crossed from Austria to Germany. I developed a crush on her, got her address, but never saw or heard from her again.

Three seats like this were across from three other seats, often fostering conversation between strangers, and even lasting friendships
On this January day I was anticipating an uneventful trip. However, soon my compartment was invaded by three talkative elderly women. I had a window seat and buried myself in Der Spiegel as the train zoomed westward. At some point one of the women was having trouble putting a bag onto the luggage rack above. I stood up and offered to help, and she was very thankful. She asked where I was heading, and I told her Bonn. I think she could tell my accent was not German so she asked if I lived there. Yes, I said, but only for this year, as I was actually a student from Minnesota studying in Germany.
She started asking me about Minnesota and my impressions of Germany. It was a pleasant conversation, and the other women joined in. At some point I mentioned Germany history, and the false impressions Americans had of Germany because of war movies and images of Hitler and the Nazis.
“I…” one woman said, looking at her colleagues, “we lived through that.” She paused.
“What was it like?” It was probably not a politically correct question, as Germans tend to be very sensitive about that era of history. Yet I was curious. My German Professor in college, Gerhard Schumutterer, had been in the Germany army in WWII. We would ask him what he had thought about Hitler and what it was like to be in the German army. I don’t think we realized how sensitive such inquiries were. He’d answer patiently, noting that while he believed at the time Germany was right, he had been living in New Zealand with his missionary parents when he was called to the army.

My old German Prof, Gerhard Schmutterer (1919 – 2005), who I thank for getting me to fall in love with the German language and culture.
His father had connections in the Lutheran church and arranged to have him come study at Augustana College in Sioux Falls (where he would later teach until he retired) right after the war. He said the first night he arrived he was tired and taken to his new dorm room. Turns out the next day was a big football game with South Dakota State University. The tradition then was that SDSU students would come and try to break into dorm rooms and paint the faces of students red (SDSU’s colors were red and white). He hadn’t locked his door, heard screaming, leapt up remembering his time fighting on the Russian front, and when they broke into his room and painted his face red he was sure the Russians had invaded. What a way to wake up in a new country!
So I wanted to hear the experiences of these women as we traveled across Germany on a non-descript winter day. The most engaging and insightful woman told me how she was born in Lotsch, Germany and her parents had been supporters of the Catholic party and not too enthused about Hitler. Yet, she recounted how under the Nazis the economy boomed and pretty soon Germans felt proud be German again.

Raised to be patriotic and proud of their country, most Germans thought it self-evident they were on the side of good in World War II
The others agreed — the newsreels at the cinemas would compare Germany’s economic growth in the mid-thirties with the depression in the West, and many Germans felt that they were unified and moving forward. Other voices were silenced. One woman recounted how her brother became an enthusiastic member of the Hitler youth, and though he was young wanted to fight to the very end when the war was finally over. “He never fully recovered,” she said, “he still deep down is a Nazi.”
They started talking with each other, stories about that era – rationing, what happened in the schools, what their parents were doing, friends they lost and how convinced they were that the war had been forced on Germany because others were jealous of their economic success. One talked about a priest who was genuinely conflicted, believing in Germany and disliking the war and censorship.
They told me of how hard it was after the war, how one who lived in the East hid in a haystack from Russian soldiers who were raping German women and girls. They talked about how unreal it seemed. Propaganda had convinced them of their superiority, but now allied troops occupied their towns.
I asked about the holocaust. One woman insisted it was a shock to her and if she had known she never would have supported the war. Another woman was more sober. “I didn’t know about it,” she said, “but I knew Jewish people were disappearing. People said they were immigrating, not wanting to be part of the National Socialist state. I think we believed that because we wanted to. But we could have known. All the signs were there. We closed our eyes.”
The first woman disagreed, but the other nodded her head. They were clearly uncomfortable. I realized that their war experiences were not that much different than those of the French or British — citizens are brought along for the ride, manipulated and used by leaders with their own agendas.
They exited in Dortmund. As they got off the train one of them grabbed my arm. “I have never talked about this in this way or in so much detail. Not even with my children or grandchildren.” I nodded, unsure what to say. “Thanks, I’ve enjoyed the conversation,” I responded. She smiled. “Enjoyed?” She smiled again, shaking her head, “have a wonderful time in Germany, I’m so glad we had a chance to talk.”
I watched them get off the train and walk away as the train left the station. I thought about my German professor, and how thankful I was that he inspired me to learn the German language. Without that, I could never have had that kind of conversation. I also realized that history looks clear in hindsight, but while it unfolds there are numerous shades of gray. I can’t blame them for not seeing the evil that Hitler represented, nor can I be confident any of us won’t be fooled by someone who promises prosperity and claims war is being forced on us.
The Hard Truth in the Mideast
Posted by Scott Erb in 2012 Election, Al Qaeda, Arab Spring, Egypt, Islam, Libya, Mideast, World Affairs on September 14, 2012
A mantra when I teach Comparative Politics is that democracy is an extremely difficult system to implement and maintain. It seems “natural” to us only because we have a culture that has built it over centuries. It is in fact a system that requires sturdy cultural support and efforts to build democracy often flounder and fail before achieving success.
Last year as we discussed the results of the Arab spring, students speculated on what the region would have to go through. Most figured it would take 20 to 30 years before we could even hope for a stable democracies across the region (I’m more optimistic about some states). All predicted anti-American violence and clashes between secular and religious factions.
Alas, we still have a lot of people in the US who seem to think that if bad things happen somewhere else, the United States should get the blame. Mitt Romney says the President has been too weak, others say a film portraying Muhammad in a bad light riled things up. Both charges are self-serving and wrong.
Clearly people are mad about the film, but how many Christians in the US go on murderous rampages over a film? It’s not that Christianity is any more peaceful at its core than Islam — it’s not. These events are caused by cultural and political instability that will continue for some time.

As offensive as the film may be, the cause of this is a history of oppression, dictatorship, and lack of opportunity
Moreover, this isn’t something to bemoan or regret. It’s better to have instability than to still have Mubarak or Qaddafi in power. Donald Trump infamously tweeted that the US embassy wasn’t attacked when those two were at the helm, apparently suggesting that we’d be better off with authoritarian thugs in charge of those countries. But that view is myopic on two levels: a) it only considers the short term; and b) it neglects the human rights of the Egyptian and Libyan people.
One thing George W. Bush got right was that the authoritarian power structures in the Mideast are anachronistic and inevitably will fall. That goes for the Saudi royal family as well — they are out of place in the 21st Century and the longer they stay in power the more angry the forces they suppress will become. The more it appears that the US is enabling the authoritarians, the stronger anti-American sentiment will become.

Dictators like Mubarak, Saddam, Asad and Qaddafi follow in the footsteps of similar regimes of the Ottoman Empire, defining for 700 years the political culture of the region.
What Bush got wrong was the idea that the US could simply overthrow the bad guys and then quickly build a stable democracy in its place. He overthrew Saddam within a few weeks, but democracy building…that takes decades and can’t be done by outsiders. So despite money, effort and a strong will to make it work, Iraq descended into chaos and civil war, with the US only able to leave by abandoning most of the original goals for the war.
Egypt and Libya are going through the same kind of turmoil. Iraq is still in disarray. When Asad falls in Syria, expect instability to persist there as well. It’s not something the United States can stop, it’s not something we can blame the President for, nor is it surprising. In fact, it’s necessary and inevitable.

Continued support for dictators would only delay the inevitable and increase the level of anti-Americanism
We in the industrialized West are used to stability. The wars of Europe are nearly seven decades in the past. We transfer power with pomp and ceremony, and despite the vicious attack ads, the loser is gracious after the election. But the West didn’t become what it is without violence, sometimes horrific violence directed against innocents. We fought tremendous battles over slavery, ideology, and land. By today’s standards of what a democracy is, ours took over 150 years to build. Egypt, Libya and other Arab countries cannot be expected to leap to a stable future in a few short years. The world doesn’t work that way.
John McCain, no doubt driven by good intentions, thinks we should use our military to help out in Syria and elsewhere. But we learned in Iraq and Afghanistan that even the world’s most potent military power can’t shape this process. The pent up anger and suppressed interests after centuries of authoritarian rule assure that there is more violence to come. The lingering rage over past American/European influence assure we will be targeted. No President can prevent that, no policy can fix it.

In the long run these extremists have no chance, history is against them. But the process has to play itself out.
Ultimately, it’ll be worth the pain. Trade, technology and economic interests will, over time, overcome the reactionary extremists from al qaeda and other such groups. It’s better to be on the path towards that future, then simply kept in an authoritarian pressure cooker that will inevitably blow.
The US can’t shape the result, but we need to avoid over reacting. We should support democratic values as effectively as possible, and recognize that while there was a vicious attack in Libya, the next day brought out far more people protesting in support of the United States.
Extremists tend to see the world in stark terms — it’s either their way or the destruction of their civilization. That’s how they rationalize such violence. It only serves their interests if we treat the entire region as if they were all extremists, or if we yearn for a return of dictatorial thugs. Their future is not ours to make.
In our consumer society it’s easy to forget that much of history was forged through bloodshed and violence. We want to think the people in the Mideast should be able to go vote next Tuesday and happily embrace democracy and markets. But change follows its own path, and often that path includes violence. We should help the victims, do whatever we can to positively aid those who want peace, and we should try to prevent the violence from escalating out of control. But the cold reality is that this is the start of a long process, one we should welcome, even if we know the transition will be difficult.
Recent Comments