Hear the Earliest Known Piece of Polyphonic Music: This Composition, Dating Back to 900 AD, Changed Western Music

Like dig­ging for fos­sils or pan­ning for gold, the research process can be a tedious affair. But for any researcher, long days of search­ing and read­ing will even­tu­al­ly result in dis­cov­ery. These are the moments schol­ars cher­ish. It’s the chance dis­cov­ery, how­ev­er rare, that makes the long hours and bleary late nights worth­while. And some finds can change an entire field. Such was the dis­cov­ery of St. John’s Col­lege PhD stu­dent Gio­van­ni Varel­li, who, in 2014, found what is now believed to be, writes Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty, “the ear­li­est known prac­ti­cal exam­ple of poly­phon­ic music,” that is, music con­sist­ing of two or more melod­ic lines work­ing togeth­er simul­ta­ne­ous­ly.

You can hear the short composition—written in praise of the patron saint of Ger­many, Saint Boniface—performed above by St. John’s under­grad­u­ates Quintin Beer and John Clapham. Pri­or to Varelli’s dis­cov­ery of this piece of music, the ear­li­est poly­phon­ic music was thought to date to the year 1000, from a col­lec­tion called The Win­ches­ter Trop­er. Varelli’s dis­cov­ery may date to 100 years ear­li­er, around the year 900, and was found at the end of a man­u­script of the Life of Bish­op Mater­ni­anus of Reims. One rea­son musi­col­o­gists had so far over­looked the piece, Varel­li says, is that “we are not see­ing what we expect­ed.”

Typ­i­cal­ly, poly­phon­ic music is seen as hav­ing devel­oped from a set of fixed rules and almost mechan­i­cal prac­tice. This changes how we under­stand that devel­op­ment pre­cise­ly because who­ev­er wrote it was break­ing those rules. It shows that music at this time was in a state of flux and devel­op­ment. 

Varelli’s spe­cial­iza­tion in ear­ly music nota­tion also pro­vid­ed him with the train­ing need­ed to rec­og­nize the piece, which was writ­ten using “an ear­ly form of nota­tion that pre­dates the inven­tion of the stave” (see the piece below). Accord­ing to British Library cura­tor Nico­las Bell, “when this man­u­script was first cat­a­logued in the eigh­teenth cen­tu­ry, nobody was able to under­stand these unusu­al sym­bols.” Varelli’s dis­cov­ery shows a devi­a­tion from “the con­ven­tion laid out in trea­tis­es at the time” and points toward the devel­op­ment of a musi­cal tech­nique that “defined most Euro­pean music up until the 20th cen­tu­ry.”

Varel­li gives us a sense of how impor­tant this dis­cov­ery is to schol­ars of ear­ly music: “the rules being applied here laid the foun­da­tions for those that devel­oped and gov­erned the major­i­ty of west­ern music his­to­ry for the next thou­sand years. This dis­cov­ery shows how they were evolv­ing, and how they exist­ed in a con­stant state of trans­for­ma­tion, around the year 900.”

So there you have it. If you’re stuck in the dol­drums of a research project, wait­ing for the wind to pick up, don’t despair. The next rare arti­fact, trea­tise, or man­u­script may be wait­ing for some­one with exact­ly your spe­cial­ized insights to deci­pher its secrets.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear a 9,000 Year Old Flute—the World’s Old­est Playable Instrument—Get Played Again

Lis­ten to the Old­est Song in the World: A Sumer­ian Hymn Writ­ten 3,400 Years Ago

Hear the World’s Old­est Instru­ment, the “Nean­derthal Flute,” Dat­ing Back Over 43,000 Years

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Women Have Always Worked: A New Online Course Premieres Today

It’s been said that the great­est achieve­ment in Amer­i­can his­to­ry in the 20th cen­tu­ry is the progress that was made – although the jour­ney con­tin­ues – toward woman’s equal­i­ty, what with women’s right to vote cod­i­fied in the 19th amend­ment (1920), women’s repro­duc­tive rights affirmed by the Supreme Court over a half cen­tu­ry lat­er (1973), and every advance in between and since. Our nation­al gov­ern­ment has done what it can to rec­og­nize that progress, and to remind us whence we came. The Nation­al Park Ser­vice, for exam­ple, tells us that when our coun­try start­ed:

The reli­gious doc­trine, writ­ten laws, and social cus­toms that colonists brought with them from Europe assert­ed wom­en’s sub­or­di­nate posi­tion. Women were to mar­ry, tend the house, and raise a fam­i­ly. Edu­ca­tion beyond basic read­ing and writ­ing was unusu­al. When a woman took a hus­band she lost what lim­it­ed free­dom she might have had as a sin­gle adult. Those few mar­ried women who worked for pay could not con­trol their own earn­ings. Most could nei­ther buy nor sell prop­er­ty or sign con­tracts; none could vote, sue when wronged, defend them­selves in court, or serve on juries. In the rare case of divorce, women lost cus­tody of their chil­dren and any fam­i­ly pos­ses­sions.…

And that … “Women actu­al­ly lost legal ground as a result of the new Unit­ed States Con­sti­tu­tion.”

What if there were an oppor­tu­ni­ty to study this strug­gle and the progress we have made in great depth – in an online course from Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty and the New-York His­tor­i­cal Soci­ety fea­tur­ing its star women’s his­to­ri­an, Alice Kessler-Har­ris, now emeri­ta, and a line­up of guest voic­es from all around the coun­try inter­viewed under her lead­er­ship to pro­vide their exper­tise on mat­ters of progress and equal­i­ty? And what if there were a new Cen­ter for the Study of Women’s His­to­ry launch­ing at the same time, even on the same day – March 8, 2017 – to pro­vide a more per­ma­nent place for exam­in­ing and under­stand­ing how to make this progress even more expan­sive?

Women Have Always Worked, a 20-week online class, pre­mieres its first 10 weeks today – free on the edX plat­form. The offer­ing (enroll here) is unique in the his­to­ry of edu­ca­tion. The course intro­duces the first col­lab­o­ra­tion between a uni­ver­si­ty and a his­tor­i­cal soci­ety to present knowl­edge to the world – with extend­ed video-record­ed con­ver­sa­tions and arti­fact and doc­u­ment dis­cus­sions with renowned schol­ars and authors includ­ing Baruch’s Car­ol Berkin; Deb­o­rah Gray White from Rut­gers; Iowa’s Lin­da Ker­ber; Car­roll Smith Rosen­berg from Michi­gan; Thavo­lia Glymph from Duke; St. John’s Lara Vap­nek; Blanche Wiesen Cook from CUNY; Louise Bernikow; Harvard’s Nan­cy Cott; Elaine Tyler May at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Min­neso­ta; NYU’s Lin­da Gor­don; the great New York writer Vivian Gor­nick; and more.

The course page lists some of the ques­tions cov­ered:

• How women’s par­tic­i­pa­tion in, exclu­sion from, and impact on Amer­i­can eco­nom­ic, polit­i­cal, and social life have altered Amer­i­can his­to­ry.
• How key fig­ures and events have chal­lenged the role of women in the home and work­place.
• How ideas, such as democ­ra­cy, cit­i­zen­ship, lib­er­ty, patri­o­tism, and equal­i­ty have dif­fer­ent­ly shaped the lives of women and men.
• How women of dif­fer­ent races and class­es have expe­ri­enced work, both inside and out­side the home.
• How his­to­ri­ans of women and gen­der study America’s past, includ­ing hands-on oppor­tu­ni­ties to prac­tice ana­lyz­ing pri­ma­ry sources from the present and the past.
• How women’s his­to­ry has devel­oped and changed over time.
And did we say it’s free?

The sec­ond part of the course will launch in June, in asso­ci­a­tion with the annu­al meet­ing of the Berk­shire Women’s His­to­ry Con­fer­ence at Hof­s­tra Uni­ver­si­ty – the largest meet­ing of wom­en’s his­to­ri­ans any­where. The MOOC is inspired by Kessler-Harris’s book, Women Have Always Worked: A His­tor­i­cal Overview, first pub­lished by the Fem­i­nist Press in 1981 and com­ing out in a new­ly updat­ed edi­tion also in 2017 from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Illi­nois, pub­lish­er of Kessler-Harris’s land­mark Gen­der­ing Labor His­to­ry (2007). The orig­i­nal book brings forth a mil­lion gems of knowl­edge and analy­sis in text and images; the online course brings for­ward video and audio and doc­u­ments and arti­facts such as few media can accom­plish. Intel­li­gent Tele­vi­sion had the oppor­tu­ni­ty to pro­duce many of the video inter­views, con­ver­sa­tions, and tes­ti­mo­ni­als.

The strug­gle of women at work is the strug­gle of all who seek a bet­ter and more just world. The course is a lit­tle mir­a­cle alight with­in it.

Peter B. Kauf­man runs Intel­li­gent Tele­vi­sion (www.intelligenttelevision.com) and twice served as Asso­ciate Direc­tor of the Cen­ter for Teach­ing and Learn­ing at Colum­bia.

 

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Women’s Suf­frage March of 1913: The Parade That Over­shad­owed Anoth­er Pres­i­den­tial Inau­gu­ra­tion a Cen­tu­ry Ago

Odd Vin­tage Post­cards Doc­u­ment the Pro­pa­gan­da Against Women’s Rights 100 Years Ago

Down­load Images From Rad Amer­i­can Women A‑Z: A New Pic­ture Book on the His­to­ry of Fem­i­nism

The First Fem­i­nist Film, Ger­maine Dulac’s The Smil­ing Madame Beudet (1922)

1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will Wasn’t a Cinematic Masterpiece; It Was a Staggeringly Effective Piece of Propaganda

Tri­umph of the Will,” says Dan Olson of the ana­lyt­i­cal video series Fold­ing Ideas, “is not a tri­umph of cin­e­ma.” Already the propo­si­tion runs counter to what many of us learned in film stud­ies class­es, whose pro­fes­sors assured us that Leni Riefen­stahl’s 1935 glo­ri­fi­ca­tion of Nazi Ger­many, despite its thor­ough­ly pro­pa­gan­dis­tic nature, still counts as a seri­ous achieve­ment in film art. “None of the ideas or tech­niques were new,” Olson explains. “It is sim­ply that no one had pre­vi­ous­ly thrown enough mon­ey and resources at pro­pa­gan­da on this scale before.”

If it has val­ue as noth­ing but sheer spec­ta­cle, does Tri­umph of the Will (watch it below) amount to the Trans­form­ers of its day — and with motives that make Michael Bay block­busters look like noble, altru­is­tic endeav­ors at that? Despite doing noth­ing new with its medi­um, the film does still show­case cer­tain qual­i­ties of pro­pa­gan­da that, more than 70 years after the fall of the Third Reich, we’d all do well to keep in mind and keep an eye on.

Olson quotes “Ur-Fas­cism,” an essay by Umber­to Eco (who spent a cou­ple for­ma­tive years “among the SS, Fas­cists, Repub­li­cans, and par­ti­sans shoot­ing at one anoth­er”) explain­ing that, for fas­cist lead­ers to con­vince peo­ple to fol­low them,

the fol­low­ers must feel humil­i­at­ed by the osten­ta­tious wealth and force of their ene­mies. When I was a boy I was taught to think of Eng­lish­men as the five-meal peo­ple. They ate more fre­quent­ly than the poor but sober Ital­ians. Jews are rich and help each oth­er through a secret web of mutu­al assis­tance. How­ev­er, the fol­low­ers must be con­vinced that they can over­whelm the ene­mies. Thus, by a con­tin­u­ous shift­ing of rhetor­i­cal focus, the ene­mies are at the same time too strong and too weak. Fas­cist gov­ern­ments are con­demned to lose wars because they are con­sti­tu­tion­al­ly inca­pable of objec­tive­ly eval­u­at­ing the force of the ene­my.

Here we have sum­ma­rized both a mes­sage that Tri­umph of the Will wants to con­vey and the intel­lec­tu­al Achilles’ heel of fas­cist pro­pa­gan­da. It must imply the strength of the ene­mies even as it makes the strength of the regime crush­ing­ly explic­it. “To the mod­ern view­er it may seem aim­less and shod­di­ly paced,” says Olson, “with mon­tages that just go on and on and on long after the point has been made, but that’s the point: it is not mere­ly a demon­stra­tion of pres­ence, but of vol­ume. The indul­gence of it, the con­spic­u­ous cost, is as much a mes­sage of the film as any oth­er.”

The words of Han­nah Arendt, who once called sci­ence “only a sur­ro­gate for pow­er,” also enter into the analy­sis. Olson uses the quote to get into the idea that “one of the main mech­a­nisms of pro­pa­gan­da is to plant the idea of prece­dent, to alter the audi­ence’s own sense of his­to­ry and the world and appeal to the seem­ing­ly objec­tive author­i­ties of god, his­to­ry and sci­ence” in order to, through what Eco called the “cult of tra­di­tion,” make “new insti­tu­tions seem old­er than they real­ly are.”

We might find all this a bit fun­ny, giv­en the high­ly pre­ma­ture ter­mi­na­tion of a reign the Nazis insist­ed could endure for a thou­sand years, but in some sense their pro­pa­gan­dists had the last laugh. What­ev­er its cin­e­mat­ic mer­its or lack there­of, Riefen­stahl’s film remains essen­tial­ly effec­tive. “To this day we con­tin­ue to use Tri­umph of the Will as a ref­er­ence point for our men­tal con­struct of the Nazi regime,” says Olson. “Our idea of the Nazis is deeply informed by a pro­pa­gan­da film pro­duced by the Nazis for the explic­it pur­pose of cre­at­ing that men­tal con­struct.” When we think of the Nazis, in oth­er words, we still think of the images man­u­fac­tured more than eighty years ago by Tri­umph of the Will — “exact­ly the image they want­ed you to think of when you thought of them.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Lam­beth Walk—Nazi Style: The Ear­ly Pro­pa­gan­da Mash Up That Enraged Joseph Goebbels

Edu­ca­tion for Death: The Mak­ing of the Nazi–Walt Disney’s 1943 Pro­pa­gan­da Film Shows How Fas­cists Are Made

Umber­to Eco Makes a List of the 14 Com­mon Fea­tures of Fas­cism

Han­nah Arendt Explains How Pro­pa­gan­da Uses Lies to Erode All Truth & Moral­i­ty: Insights from The Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism

Noam Chom­sky on Whether the Rise of Trump Resem­bles the Rise of Fas­cism in 1930s Ger­many

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Kurt Vonnegut Gives a Sermon on the Foolishness of Nuclear Arms: It’s Timely Again (Cathedral of St. John the Divine, 1982)

Image by Daniele Prati, via Flickr Com­mons

Many writ­ers recoil at the notion of dis­cussing where they get their ideas, but Kurt Von­negut spoke on the sub­ject will­ing­ly. “I get my ideas from dreams,” he announced ear­ly in one speech, adding, “the wildest dream I have had so far is about The New York­er mag­a­zine.” In this dream, “the mag­a­zine has pub­lished a three-part essay by Jonathan Schell which proves that life on Earth is about to end. I am sup­posed to go to the largest Goth­ic cathe­dral in the world, where all the peo­ple are wait­ing, and say some­thing won­der­ful — right before a hydro­gen bomb is dropped on the Empire State Build­ing.”

It stands to rea­son that a such a vivid, fright­en­ing, and some­how fun­ny sce­nario would unfold in the uncon­scious mind of a man who wrote such vivid, fright­en­ing, and some­how fun­ny nov­els. (Von­negut’s own inter­pre­ta­tion? “I con­sid­er myself an impor­tant writer, and I think The New York­er should be ashamed that it has nev­er pub­lished me.”) As it hap­pens, he did deliv­er these words in a cathe­dral, name­ly New York City’s Cathe­dral of St. John the Divine in the spring of 1982.

This was just months after Schel­l’s three-part essay “The Fate of the Earth” (all three parts of it still avail­able online) real­ly ran in The New York­er, and Cold War fears about the prob­a­bil­i­ty of a hydro­gen bomb real­ly drop­ping on Amer­i­ca ran high. Von­negut’s speech was one of a series of Sun­day ser­mons the Cathe­dral had lined up on the sub­ject of nuclear dis­ar­ma­ment, assem­bling the rest of the ros­ter from mil­i­tary, sci­en­tif­ic, and activist fields. The author of Cat’s Cra­dleSlaugh­ter­house-Five, and Break­fast of Cham­pi­onsfresh off a trip to the Gala­pa­gos Islands with the St. John the Divine’s Bish­op Paul Moore—presumably rep­re­sent­ed the realm of let­ters.

“At the time, NYPR Archives Direc­tor Andy Lanset cov­ered the Von­negut ser­mon as a vol­un­teer for the WNYC News Depart­ment,” wrote WNY­C’s William Rod­ney Allen in 2014 on the redis­cov­ery and post­ing of Lanset’s record­ing. (The same pub­lic radio sta­tion, inci­den­tal­ly, would fif­teen or so years lat­er com­mis­sion Von­negut for a series of reports from the after­life.) Now we can not only read but also hear Von­negut, in his own voice, try­ing to imag­ine aloud a series of “fates worse than death.” Why? Not sim­ply to indulge his famous sense of gal­lows humor, but in order to put the nuclear threat, and the anx­i­eties it gen­er­at­ed, into the prop­er con­text.

“I am sure you are sick and tired of hear­ing how all liv­ing things siz­zle and pop inside a radioac­tive fire­ball,” Von­negut says, going on to assure his audi­ence that “sci­en­tists, for all their cre­ativ­i­ty, will nev­er dis­cov­er a method for mak­ing peo­ple dead­er than dead. So if some of you are wor­ried about being hydro­gen-bombed, you are mere­ly fear­ing death. There is noth­ing new in that. If there weren’t any hydro­gen bombs, death would still be after you.”

In any event, despite hav­ing shuf­fled through sev­er­al can­di­dates (“Life with­out petro­le­um?”), Von­negut can come up with no fate believ­ably worse than death besides cru­ci­fix­ion. But giv­en that non-cru­ci­fied human beings near­ly always and every­where pre­fer life to death, per­haps “we might pray to be res­cued from our inven­tive­ness” which gave us the abil­i­ty to destroy all life on Earth. But “the inven­tive­ness which we so regret now may also be giv­ing us, along with the rock­ets and war­heads, the means to achieve what has hith­er­to been an impos­si­bil­i­ty, the uni­ty of mankind.”

Von­negut sees this promise main­ly in tele­vi­sion, whose ter­ri­bly real­is­tic sounds and images ensure that “the peo­ple of every indus­tri­al­ized nation are nau­se­at­ed by war by the time they are ten years old.” A vet­er­an of the Sec­ond World War, he him­self remem­bers a very dif­fer­ent time, back when “it used to be nec­es­sary for a young sol­dier to get into fight­ing before he became dis­il­lu­sioned about war,” back when “it was unusu­al for an Amer­i­can, or a per­son of any nation­al­i­ty, for that mat­ter, to know much about for­eign­ers.”

Even before the 1980s, “thanks to mod­ern com­mu­ni­ca­tions, we have seen sights and heard sounds from vir­tu­al­ly every square mile of the land mass on this plan­et,” and so “know for cer­tain that there are no poten­tial human ene­mies any­where who are any­thing but human beings almost exact­ly like our­selves. They need food. How amaz­ing. They love their chil­dren. How amaz­ing. They obey their lead­ers. How amaz­ing. They think like their neigh­bors. How amaz­ing.”

Mod­ern com­mu­ni­ca­tions have, of course, come aston­ish­ing­ly far in the 35 years since Von­negut’s Sun­day ser­mon, but our fears about nuclear anni­hi­la­tion have had a way of resur­fac­ing. In recent months, the Amer­i­can peo­ple have even heard talk of a rein­vig­o­rat­ed nuclear arms race from their new pres­i­dent, a man whose rise detrac­tors part­ly blame on mod­ern com­mu­ni­ca­tion tech­nol­o­gy — not a lack of it, but an excess.

“The glob­al vil­lage that was once the inter­net has been replaced by dig­i­tal islands of iso­la­tion that are drift­ing fur­ther apart each day,” writes Mostafa M. El-Bermawy in a Wired piece on the threat social-media “fil­ter bub­bles” pose to democ­ra­cy. “We need to remind our­selves that there are humans on the oth­er side of the screen who want to be heard and can think and feel like us while at the same time reach­ing dif­fer­ent con­clu­sions.” Recent devel­op­ments would prob­a­bly dis­ap­point Von­negut (not that they would sur­prise him), but he’d sure­ly get a kick, as he always did, out of the irony of it all.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Kurt Von­negut: Where Do I Get My Ideas From? My Dis­gust with Civ­i­liza­tion

In 1988, Kurt Von­negut Writes a Let­ter to Peo­ple Liv­ing in 2088, Giv­ing 7 Pieces of Advice

22-Year-Old P.O.W. Kurt Von­negut Writes Home from World War II: “I’ll Be Damned If It Was Worth It”

Hear Kurt Von­negut Vis­it the After­life & Inter­view Dead His­tor­i­cal Fig­ures: Isaac New­ton, Adolf Hitler, Eugene Debs & More (Audio, 1998)

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads Kurt Vonnegut’s Incensed Let­ter to the High School That Burned Slaugh­ter­house-Five

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Bertrand Russell Writes an Artful Letter, Stating His Refusal to Debate British Fascist Leader Oswald Mosley (1962)

Image by Nation­al Por­trait Gallery, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Chang­ing the minds of oth­ers has nev­er count­ed among human­i­ty’s eas­i­est tasks, and it seems only to have become an ever-stiffer chal­lenge as his­to­ry has ground along. Increas­ing­ly many, as Yale pro­fes­sor David Bromwich recent­ly argued in the Lon­don Review of Bookshave had no prac­tice in using words to influ­ence peo­ple unlike them­selves. That is an art that can be lost. It depends on a quan­tum of acci­den­tal com­mu­ni­ca­tion that is miss­ing in a life of organ­ised con­tacts.” We might find our­selves in rea­son­ably fruit­ful debates with basi­cal­ly like-mind­ed friends, acquain­tances, and strangers on the inter­net, but can we ever con­vince, or be con­vinced by, some­one tru­ly dif­fer­ent from us?

Bertrand Rus­sell doubt­ed it. In 1962, long before the struc­tures of the inter­net allowed us to build tighter echo cham­bers than ever before, the Nobel-win­ning philoso­pher “received a series of let­ters from an unlike­ly cor­re­spon­dent — Sir Oswald Mosley, who had found­ed the British Union of Fas­cists thir­ty years ear­li­er,” writes Brain Pick­ings’ Maria Popo­va.

“Mosley was invit­ing — or, rather, pro­vok­ing — Rus­sell to engage in a debate, in which he could per­suade the moral philoso­pher of the mer­its of fas­cism.” Even at the age of 89, with lit­tle time and much else to do, Rus­sell declined with the utmost force and clar­i­ty in a piece of cor­re­spon­dence fea­tured on Let­ters of Note:

Dear Sir Oswald,

Thank you for your let­ter and for your enclo­sures. I have giv­en some thought to our recent cor­re­spon­dence. It is always dif­fi­cult to decide on how to respond to peo­ple whose ethos is so alien and, in fact, repel­lent to one’s own. It is not that I take excep­tion to the gen­er­al points made by you but that every ounce of my ener­gy has been devot­ed to an active oppo­si­tion to cru­el big­otry, com­pul­sive vio­lence, and the sadis­tic per­se­cu­tion which has char­ac­terised the phi­los­o­phy and prac­tice of fas­cism.

I feel oblig­ed to say that the emo­tion­al uni­vers­es we inhab­it are so dis­tinct, and in deep­est ways opposed, that noth­ing fruit­ful or sin­cere could ever emerge from asso­ci­a­tion between us.

I should like you to under­stand the inten­si­ty of this con­vic­tion on my part. It is not out of any attempt to be rude that I say this but because of all that I val­ue in human expe­ri­ence and human achieve­ment.

Yours sin­cere­ly,

Bertrand Rus­sell

Rus­sell passed on eight years lat­er, in 1970, and Mosley a decade there­after. “His final mes­sage to the British peo­ple appeared in a let­ter to the New States­man writ­ten only a week ear­li­er,” remem­bers jour­nal­ist Hugh Pur­cell in that news­pa­per. It con­cerned an arti­cle’s descrip­tion of the “Olympia ral­ly,” the 1934 deba­cle that lost the British Union of Fas­cists much of what pub­lic sup­port it enjoyed. “The largest audi­ence ever seen at that time assem­bled to fill the Olympia hall and hear the speech,” Mosley insist­ed. “A small minor­i­ty deter­mined by con­tin­u­ous shout­ing to pre­vent my speech being heard. After due warn­ing our stew­ards removed with their bare hands men among whom were some armed with such weapons as razors and knives. The audi­ence were then able to lis­ten to a speech which last­ed for near­ly two hours.”

The New States­men, print­ing Mosley’s let­ter posthu­mous­ly, ran it under this intro­duc­tion: “Through­out his life he was intent on per­suad­ing peo­ple that their view of his­to­ry was mis­tak­en.” Despite his unceas­ing efforts, he ulti­mate­ly per­suad­ed few — and it would hard­ly have required as keen an observ­er as Rus­sell to see that some­one like Mosley cer­tain­ly was­n’t about to let him­self be per­suad­ed by any­one else.

via Let­ters of Note/Brain Pick­ings and The Bertrand Rus­sell Archives, McMas­ter Uni­ver­si­ty Library

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bertrand Russell’s Ten Com­mand­ments for Liv­ing in a Healthy Democ­ra­cy

Lis­ten to ‘Why I Am Not a Chris­t­ian,’ Bertrand Russell’s Pow­er­ful Cri­tique of Reli­gion (1927)

Bertrand Rus­sell and F.C. Cople­ston Debate the Exis­tence of God, 1948

Face to Face with Bertrand Rus­sell: ‘Love is Wise, Hatred is Fool­ish’

How Bertrand Rus­sell Turned The Bea­t­les Against the Viet­nam War

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Listen to Presidential, The Washington Post’s Podcast Exploring Each & Every U.S. President

A quick heads up on Pres­i­den­t’s Day: The Wash­ing­ton Post presents Pres­i­den­tial, a pod­cast that explores how “each Amer­i­can pres­i­dent reached office, made deci­sions, han­dled crises and rede­fined the role of com­man­der-in-chief.” Nat­u­ral­ly, it starts with George Wash­ing­ton. Hear that episode below.

Pres­i­den­tial is host­ed by Wash­Po edi­tor Lil­lian Cun­ning­ham and fea­tures Pulitzer Prize-win­ning his­to­ri­ans like David McCul­lough and jour­nal­ists like Bob Wood­ward. Right now you can get all 45 episodes (each about 30–50 min­utes long) on iTunes, Sound­cloud and Stitch­er.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online His­to­ry Cours­es

Watch Online Every Pres­i­den­tial Debate Since 1960–and Revis­it America’s San­er Polit­i­cal Days

John Green’s Crash Course in U.S. His­to­ry: From Colo­nial­ism to Oba­ma in 47 Videos

The His­to­ry of the World in 46 Lec­tures From Colum­bia Uni­ver­si­ty

How Machiavelli Really Thought We Should Use Power: Two Animated Videos Provide an Introduction

Nice guys, so they say, fin­ish last. Many of us might instinc­tive­ly label such a world­view “Machi­avel­lian,” par­tial­ly for good rea­son and par­tial­ly not. It stands as a tes­ta­ment to the insights of the Renais­sance-era Flo­ren­tine polit­i­cal philoso­pher Nic­colò Machi­avel­li, expressed with great clar­i­ty and suc­cinct­ness in his books The Prince and the Dis­cours­es on Livy, not just that his name became an adjec­tive, but that it became one that remains in wide use near­ly 500 years after his death. But like oth­er such terms — “Kafkaesque” and “Orwellian” come to mind — its mod­ern usage tends to come detached from its name­sake writer’s orig­i­nal ideas.

So what did Machi­avel­li actu­al­ly have to say to human­i­ty? “Machi­avel­li’s Advice for Nice Guys,” a new ani­mat­ed video from Alain de Bot­ton’s School of Life, high­lights the core insight of his work: “that the wicked tend to win. And they do so because they have a huge advan­tage over the good: they are will­ing to act with the dark­est inge­nu­ity and cun­ning to fur­ther their cause. They are not held back by those rigid oppo­nents of change: prin­ci­ples.

They will be pre­pared to out­right lie, twist facts, threat­en or get vio­lent. They will also – when the sit­u­a­tion demands it – know how to seduc­tive­ly deceive, use charm and hon­eyed words, bedaz­zle and dis­tract. And in this way, they con­quer the world.”

This line of think­ing, put in such stark terms, can make Machi­avel­li seem like an off­putting­ly harsh (if quite intel­li­gent) char­ac­ter. But his writ­ing is more nuanced: he advo­cates not using flat-out lies and vio­lence to achieve one’s ends, but indeed to be nice — just “nev­er to be over­ly devot­ed to act­ing nice­ly,” an atti­tude he thought the West­’s pop­u­lar read­ings of the sto­ry of Jesus of Nazareth too often advo­cat­ed —  while always know­ing “how to bor­row – when need be – every sin­gle trick employed by the most cyn­i­cal, das­tard­ly, unscrupu­lous and nas­ti­est peo­ple who have ever lived.” Nice guys, in short, have no choice but to learn from their ene­mies.

You can learn more about the some­times har­row­ing expe­ri­ences that taught Machi­avel­li all this in the School of Life’s intro­duc­tion to his polit­i­cal the­o­ry just above. He reck­oned, more mem­o­rably than any oth­er, “the price of deal­ing with the world as it is, and not as we feel it should be. The world has con­tin­ued to love and hate Machi­avel­li in equal mea­sure for insist­ing on this uncom­fort­able truth.” Machi­avel­li, as Salman Rushdie put it in a clip we fea­tured a few years ago, lived in a time when Italy’s rul­ing fam­i­lies behaved “in the most ruth­less way, and he wrote this lit­tle trea­tise about not what he would like things to be like, but how pow­er actu­al­ly works, which he observed.” Rushdie calls the neg­a­tive asso­ci­a­tions with the philoso­pher’s name “a clas­sic case of shoot­ing the mes­sen­ger” — some­thing, alas, even the most good-inten­tioned ruler may find him­self forced to do once in a while.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Salman Rushdie: Machiavelli’s Bad Rap

Intro­duc­tion to Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy: A Free Yale Course

Allan Bloom’s Lec­tures on Machi­avel­li (Boston Col­lege, 1983)

6 Polit­i­cal The­o­rists Intro­duced in Ani­mat­ed “School of Life” Videos: Marx, Smith, Rawls & More

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Listen to a Marathon Reading of Elie Wiesel’s Night

A cou­ple of weeks ago on Jan­u­ary 27, Inter­na­tion­al Holo­caust Remem­brance Day, a diverse group gath­ered for a marathon read­ing of Night, Nobel Prize win­ner, Elie Wiesel’s mem­oir of his youth­ful expe­ri­ences as a pris­on­er in Auschwitz and Buchen­wald.

The event was orga­nized in part by the Nation­al Yid­dish The­atre—fit­ting giv­en that Night was orig­i­nal­ly writ­ten in Yid­dish, though first pub­lished in French. The theater’s artis­tic direc­tor and sev­er­al actors from past pro­duc­tions claimed sev­er­al of the read­ing slots, but left more than six­ty to be filled by par­tic­i­pants from an inten­tion­al­ly broad pool.

There were rab­bis and Broad­way per­form­ers, a New York­er writer, the Con­sul Gen­er­al of Ger­many, and the Hun­gar­i­an Ambas­sador to the UN…

Stu­dents and edu­ca­tors…

A num­ber of Holo­caust sur­vivors…

Dr. Ruth Wes­t­heimer and Wiesel’s grown son, Elisha, who observed:

At a time when this coun­try is feel­ing so divid­ed, when so much neg­a­tiv­i­ty is cir­cu­lat­ing about those who are dif­fer­ent from our­selves — those who have dif­fer­ent eth­nic­i­ties, reli­gions or even dif­fer­ent polit­i­cal lean­ings — my father’s words are an impor­tant reminder of the dan­gers of the ‘us ver­sus them’ men­tal­i­ty.

It took the vol­un­teer read­ers a lit­tle over four hours to get through the slim vol­ume, which shows up on many Amer­i­can high schools’ required read­ing lists.

The free event was co-spon­sored by the Muse­um of Jew­ish Heritage—A Liv­ing Memo­r­i­al to the Holo­caust, whose loca­tion in low­er Man­hat­tan was quite con­ve­nient to anoth­er impor­tant event tak­ing place that day—an inter­faith ral­ly to protest Pres­i­dent Don­ald Trump’s exec­u­tive order ban­ning immi­grants from 7 coun­tries, sus­pend­ing entry for all refugees for a peri­od of four months, and call­ing for “extreme vet­ting” screen­ings.

There may be times when we are pow­er­less to pre­vent injus­tice, but there must nev­er be a time when we fail to protest.

- Elie Wiesel, Nobel Peace Prize Accep­tance Speech, Decem­ber, 1986

h/t Jeff N.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Elie Wiesel (RIP) Talks About What Hap­pens When We Die

Mem­o­ry of the Camps (1985): The Holo­caust Doc­u­men­tary that Trau­ma­tized Alfred Hitch­cock, and Remained Unseen for 40 Years

Yes, the Holo­caust Hap­pened, Even If a Top Google Search Result Says It Didn’t

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is open­ing in New York City in March 2017. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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