Search Results for "anal"

How Medieval Cathedrals Were Built Without Science, or Even Mathematics

Sci­ence and engi­neer­ing may be con­flat­ed to some degree in the pub­lic mind, but any­one who’s spent much time in an aca­d­e­m­ic depart­ment belong­ing to one or the oth­er of those branch­es of endeav­or knows how insis­tent­ly dis­tinc­tions can be drawn between them. Bill Ham­mack, a pro­fes­sor of engi­neer­ing at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Illi­nois Urbana-Cham­paign who’s been there since he was a mas­ter’s stu­dent in 1986, sure­ly has his own thoughts on the sub­ject. The video above from his pop­u­lar YouTube chan­nel Engi­neer­guy explains how cathe­drals were designed in the Mid­dle Ages, using the exam­ple of Sainte-Chapelle in Paris. Specif­i­cal­ly, it gets into how such a build­ing’s arch­es and sup­port­ing walls could have been engi­neered with­out the aid of sci­ence at all, or even the use of math­e­mat­ics.

Com­pared to today, the scope of knowl­edge human­i­ty com­mand­ed back in medieval times may have been impos­si­bly nar­row — to say noth­ing of the knowl­edge pos­sessed by any giv­en human, espe­cial­ly out­side the lit­er­ate elite. Yet what was then known proved more than suf­fi­cient to build struc­tures that still stand, and indeed impress, many cen­turies (and in some cas­es, more than a mil­len­ni­um) lat­er.

Ham­mack explains that, in the place of mak­ing cal­cu­la­tions, their builders would per­form actions. For instance, a medieval mason would have made a life-size chalk draw­ing of the arch, laid a rope along its form, and cut the rope’s length to match that of the arch. He could then use the rope to deter­mine just how thick the wall would need to be, between a fourth and a fifth of the arch’s span, with­out a num­ber ever being involved.

Ham­mack notes that the Romans, too, under­stood this nec­es­sary pro­por­tion for arch con­struc­tion. “The pro­por­tion­al rule does­n’t come from some sci­en­tif­ic analy­sis of stone and its prop­er­ties,” he says. “It comes from cen­turies of expe­ri­ence, from tri­al and error.” Such heuris­tics, or rules of thumb, con­sti­tute “an impre­cise method used as a short­cut to find a solu­tion to a prob­lem, often by nar­row­ing the range of pos­si­ble solu­tions.” They’re also employed in the engi­neer­ing method to “cause the best change in a poor­ly under­stood sit­u­a­tion using avail­able resources.” Its thor­ough­go­ing prac­ti­cal­i­ty would seem to have lit­tle to do with the dif­fer­ent sort of rig­ors that apply in sci­ence, where estab­lish­ing truth, or at least the absence of false­ness, is all. Belief in the engi­neer­ing approach to prob­lems like this does­n’t require faith in the reli­gious sense, but if you like, you can find proof of its effec­tive­ness in hous­es of wor­ship from Sainte-Chapelle to the Pan­theon to Hagia Sophia — or at least in their arch­es.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Göbek­li Tepe: The 12,000-Year-Old Ruins That Rewrite the Sto­ry of Civ­i­liza­tion

The Cre­ation & Restora­tion of Notre-Dame Cathe­dral, Ani­mat­ed

An Ani­mat­ed Video Shows the Build­ing of a Medieval Bridge: 45 Years of Con­struc­tion in 3 Min­utes

Behold a 21st-Cen­tu­ry Medieval Cas­tle Being Built with Only Tools & Mate­ri­als from the Mid­dle Ages

How Design­ing Build­ings Upside-Down Rev­o­lu­tion­ized Archi­tec­ture, Mak­ing Pos­si­ble St. Paul’s Cathe­dral, Sagra­da Família & More

The Longest Con­struc­tion Projects in His­to­ry: Why Sagra­da Família, the Milan Duo­mo, Greek Tem­ples & Oth­er Famous Struc­tures Took Gen­er­a­tions to Com­plete

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The Ingenious Engineering of Silk: How the 2,000-Year-Old Pattern Loom Powered the Silk Road and the Wealth of Ancient China

The Silk Road’s long peri­od of high activ­i­ty spanned the sec­ond cen­tu­ry BC and the fif­teenth cen­tu­ry AD, but its name was­n’t coined until more than 400 years after that. Schol­ars have argued it prac­ti­cal­ly ever since, giv­en that the ref­er­ent was­n’t just one road but a vast and ever-chang­ing net­work of them, and that silk was hard­ly the only com­mod­i­ty car­ried by its traders. Yet the name per­sists, and not only due to Mar­co Polo-type roman­ti­cism. Silk may not have been the high­est-vol­ume item on its epony­mous road — more busi­ness was sure­ly done in every­day tex­tiles, to say noth­ing of spices, grains, or dyes — but it was per­haps the most vis­i­ble, and sure­ly the most glam­orous. From the per­spec­tive of Chi­nese civ­i­liza­tion, it can also look like the most impor­tant.

In the new Pri­mal Space video above, you can hear the sto­ry of “the machine that made Chi­na rich”: the pat­tern loom, that is, a mod­el of which was unearthed in 2017 dur­ing sub­way con­struc­tion in the city of Cheng­du. At some­where between 2,100 and 2,200 years old, they rep­re­sent the ear­li­est known evi­dence of pat­tern loom tech­nol­o­gy, of which Chi­na made high­ly pro­duc­tive use dur­ing the time of its three-mil­len­ni­um monop­oly on silk.

As far away as the Roman Empire, those who had the means could­n’t get enough of the stuff, espe­cial­ly when it came in designs nev­er before seen in human his­to­ry. Hence the high pri­or­i­ty Chi­na placed on keep­ing knowl­edge of its har­vest­ing and weav­ing pro­pri­etary — at least until a cou­ple of Roman monks man­aged to smug­gle silk­worm lar­vae back to Europe in the mid­dle of the sixth cen­tu­ry.

Yet even hav­ing lost its sta­tus as the only land capa­ble of pro­duc­ing silk, Chi­na retained a great advan­tage in the form of its sheer man­u­fac­tur­ing capac­i­ty. (This sto­ry rings some­what famil­iar about a mil­len­ni­um and a half lat­er, when none of us can dis­pute which coun­try holds the title of “the world’s fac­to­ry.”) Its silk indus­try could achieve that scale thanks to the rel­a­tive ease of use of the pat­tern loom, which required no spe­cial skills to oper­ate. The most com­plex aspect would have been “pro­gram­ming” the pat­terns to be formed by the strands, which, though an entire­ly ana­log process, has its basic sim­i­lar­i­ties with the dig­i­tal com­put­er pro­gram­ming we know today. Chi­na’s trade net­works have great­ly mul­ti­plied since the days of Mar­co Polo, and the tech­nol­o­gy it uses has devel­oped to a pre­vi­ous­ly unimag­in­able degree. Yet some­how, the “Elec­tric Vehi­cle Road” does­n’t have quite the same ring, does it?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Dis­cov­er the World’s First Earth­quake Detec­tor, Invent­ed in Chi­na 2,000 Years Ago

How the Ornate Tapes­tries from the Age of Louis XIV Were Made (and Are Still Made Today)

China’s 8,000 Ter­ra­cot­ta War­riors: An Ani­mat­ed & Inter­ac­tive Intro­duc­tion to a Great Archae­o­log­i­cal Dis­cov­ery

Watch a Trans­fix­ing Demon­stra­tion of Kumi­hi­mo, the Ancient Japan­ese Art­form of Mak­ing Braids & Cords

The Improb­a­ble Inven­tion of Chi­nese Type­writ­ers & Com­put­er Key­boards: Three Videos Tell the Tech­no-Cul­tur­al Sto­ry

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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Hear Aldous Huxley Read Brave New World. Plus 84 Classic Radio Dramas from CBS Radio Workshop (1956–57)


We seem to be liv­ing through yet anoth­er major moment for pod­cast­ing. Over the past two decades, the medi­um has gone from niche exper­i­ment to main­stream habit, becom­ing a reg­u­lar part of how we learn, enter­tain our­selves, and pass the time. The pop­u­lar­i­ty of podcasts—in an age of ubiq­ui­tous screens and per­pet­u­al distractions—speaks to some­thing deep with­in us. Oral sto­ry­telling, as old as human speech, nev­er real­ly dis­ap­pears. The medi­um evolves, plat­forms shift, dis­tri­b­u­tion changes—but the basic appeal remains con­stant.

But the dif­fer­ences between this gold­en age of pod­cast­ing and the gold­en age of radio are still sig­nif­i­cant. Where the pod­cast is often off-the-cuff, and often very inti­mate and personal—sometimes seen as “too personal”—radio pro­grams were almost always care­ful­ly script­ed and fea­tured pro­fes­sion­al tal­ent. Even those pro­grams with man-on-the street fea­tures or inter­views with ordi­nary folks were care­ful­ly orches­trat­ed and medi­at­ed by pro­duc­ers, actors, and pre­sen­ters. And the busi­ness of scor­ing music and sound effects for radio pro­grams was a very seri­ous one indeed. All of these formalities—in addi­tion to the lim­it­ed fre­quen­cy range of old ana­log record­ing technology—contribute to what we imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nize as the sound of “old time radio.” It is a quaint sound, but also one with a cer­tain grav­i­tas, an echo of a bygone age.

That gold­en age waned as tele­vi­sion came into its own in the mid-fifties, but near its end, some broad­cast com­pa­nies made every effort to put togeth­er the high­est qual­i­ty radio pro­gram­ming they could in order to retain their audi­ence. One such pro­gram, the CBS Radio Work­shop, which ran from Jan­u­ary, 1956 to Sep­tem­ber, 1957, may have been “too lit­tle too late”—as radio preser­va­tion­ist site Dig­i­tal Deli writes—but it nonethe­less was “every bit as inno­v­a­tive and cut­ting edge” as the pro­grams that came before it.

cbs-radio-workshop

The first two episodes, right below, were drama­ti­za­tions of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, read by the author him­self. The series’ remain­ing 84 pro­grams drew from the work of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, James Thurber, H.L. Menck­en, Mark Twain, Robert Hein­lein, Eugene O’Neill, Balzac, Carl Sand­burg, and so many more. It also fea­tured orig­i­nal com­e­dy, dra­ma, music, and This Amer­i­can Life-style pro­files and sto­ry­telling.

Hux­ley returned in pro­gram #12, with a sto­ry called “Jacob’s Hands,” writ­ten in col­lab­o­ra­tion with and read by Christo­pher Ish­er­wood. The great Ray Brad­bury made an appear­ance, in pro­gram #4, intro­duc­ing his sto­ries “Sea­son of Dis­be­lief” and “Hail and Farewell,” read by John Dehn­er and Sta­cy Har­ris, and scored by future film and TV com­pos­er Jer­ry Gold­smith. Oth­er pro­grams, like #10, “The Exur­ban­ites,” nar­rat­ed by famous war cor­re­spon­dent Eric Sevareid, con­duct­ed prob­ing inves­ti­ga­tions of mod­ern life—in this case the growth of sub­ur­bia and its rela­tion­ship to the adver­tis­ing indus­try. The above is but a tiny sam­pling of the wealth of qual­i­ty pro­gram­ming the CBS Radio Work­shop pro­duced, and you can hear all of it—all 86 episodes—courtesy of the Inter­net Archive.

Sam­ple stream­ing episodes in the play­er above, or down­load indi­vid­ual pro­grams as MP3s and enjoy them at your leisure, almost like, well, a pod­cast. See Dig­i­tal Deli for a com­plete run­down of each program’s con­tent and cast, as well as an exten­sive his­to­ry of the series. This is the swan song of gold­en age radio, which, it seems, maybe nev­er real­ly left, giv­en the incred­i­ble num­ber of lis­ten­ing expe­ri­ences we still have at our dis­pos­al. Yes, some­day our pod­casts will sound quaint and curi­ous to the ears of more advanced lis­ten­ers, but even then, I’d bet, peo­ple will still be telling and record­ing sto­ries, and the sound of human voic­es will con­tin­ue to cap­ti­vate us as it always has.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear 230 Episodes of Escape: Clas­sic Radio Dra­mas of Sto­ries by Ray Brad­bury, Edgar Allan Poe, H.G. Wells & More (1947–1954)

X Minus One: Hear Clas­sic Sci-Fi Radio Sto­ries from Asi­mov, Hein­lein, Brad­bury & Dick

Dimen­sion X: The 1950s Sci­Fi Radio Show That Dra­ma­tized Sto­ries by Asi­mov, Brad­bury, Von­negut & More

Hear 90+ Episodes of Sus­pense, the Icon­ic Gold­en Age Radio Show Launched by Alfred Hitch­cock

Hear 149 Vin­tage Hal­loween Radio Shows from the Gold­en Age of Radio

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

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Were the Egyptian Pyramids Not Built Up, But Carved Down?: A Bold New Theory Explains Their Construction

We know more or less every­thing we could pos­si­bly know about ancient Egypt­ian civ­i­liza­tion. That owes in large part to the advanced state of record-keep­ing it achieved, and how many of its writ­ings have sur­vived, up to and includ­ing — as pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture — a home­work assign­ment and a list of excus­es giv­en by builders who missed work. There just hap­pens to be one espe­cial­ly glar­ing gap in our knowl­edge: exact­ly how the ancient Egyp­tians built the Pyra­mids of Giza. This inter­sec­tion of rel­a­tive igno­rance and extreme fas­ci­na­tion has, as archi­tec­ture YouTu­ber Dami Lee acknowl­edges in the video above, inspired no end of crack­pot-ism. Noth­ing could be as unpromis­ing as unso­licit­ed con­tact from some­one claim­ing to have dis­cov­ered the secret of the pyra­mids.

The case of a Kore­an inde­pen­dent researcher called Huni Choi proved to be dif­fer­ent, for rea­sons Lee uses the video to lay out. Con­ven­tion­al assump­tions about how the pyra­mids were built hold that work­ers would have had to drag the stones up one or more ramps, though the dimen­sions of the struc­tures dic­tate that the project would neces­si­tate huge, com­plex, or huge and com­plex ramp sys­tems — whose own con­struc­tion has some­how left behind not a trace of evi­dence.

Accord­ing to Choi, “the Great Pyra­mid was­n’t built on its own, but through a chain of ‘sac­ri­fi­cial’ struc­tures” designed to be “can­ni­bal­ized.” The idea is that the pyra­mids were “over­built,” start­ing with a gigan­tic “trape­zoidal mass” with an inte­grat­ed ramp sys­tem, which, after being topped out, was then carved down into the pyra­mid shape we still find so famil­iar and com­pelling.

If true, Choi’s the­o­ry would solve the long-intractable prob­lem of the point­ed tops, which posed such a thorny engi­neer­ing prob­lem that even oth­er pyra­mid-build­ing civ­i­liza­tions seem­ing­ly avoid­ed even attempt­ing them. It also accounts for how the Egypt­ian design­ers and builders could have kept an eye on the angles all the while, in order to make sure the things were going up straight. And what of the left­over stone cut away from each pyra­mid? Why, it would sim­ply have been re-used for the con­struc­tion of the next one. This all squares not just with the esti­mat­ed mass of the Giza com­plex, but also with appar­ent ancient Egypt­ian atti­tudes toward the nat­ur­al and built envi­ron­ment. Alas, unlike in, say, physics, an archae­o­log­i­cal the­o­ry like this one remains dif­fi­cult to prove dis­pos­i­tive­ly, bar­ring anoth­er tech­no­log­i­cal break­through that enables a new form of analy­sis of the pyra­mids them­selves. Still, it’s a lot more sat­is­fy­ing than just assum­ing some ancient aliens did it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Pyra­mids of Giza: Ancient Egypt­ian Art and Archaeology–a Free Online Course from Har­vard

A Walk­ing Tour Around the Pyra­mids of Giza: 2 Hours in Hi Def

Who Real­ly Built the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids — and How Did They Do It?

How Did They Build the Great Pyra­mid of Giza?: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion

Ancient Egypt­ian Pyra­mids May Have Been Built with Water: A New Study Explore the Use of Hydraulic Lifts

Isaac New­ton The­o­rized That the Egypt­ian Pyra­mids Revealed the Tim­ing of the Apoc­a­lypse: See His Burnt Man­u­script from the 1680s

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The Rohonc Codex: Hungary’s Mysterious Manuscript That No One Can Read

Image by Klaus Schmeh, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Mag­yar, which is spo­ken and writ­ten in Hun­gary, ranks among the hard­est Euro­pean lan­guages to learn. (The U.S. For­eign Ser­vice Insti­tute puts it in the sec­ond-to-high­est lev­el, accom­pa­nied by the dread­ed aster­isk label­ing it as “usu­al­ly more dif­fi­cult than oth­er lan­guages in the same cat­e­go­ry.”) But once you mas­ter its vow­el har­mo­ny sys­tem, its def­i­nite and indef­i­nite con­ju­ga­tion, and its eigh­teen gram­mat­i­cal cas­es, among oth­er noto­ri­ous fea­tures, you can final­ly enjoy the work of writ­ers like Nobel Lau­re­ates Imre Kertész and Lás­zló Krasz­na­horkai in the orig­i­nal. Alas, no degree of mas­tery will be much help if you want to under­stand a much old­er — and, in its way, much more noto­ri­ous — Hun­gar­i­an text, the Rohonc Codex.

“Lit­tle is known about this book before it was bequeathed to the Hun­gar­i­an Acad­e­my of Sci­ences in 1838,” writes The Art News­pa­per’s Gar­ry Shaw. “Its 448 pages bear illus­tra­tions cov­er­ing Bib­li­cal themes and an as yet unread­able text, writ­ten using around 150 dif­fer­ent sym­bols.”

Like the famous­ly cryp­tic Voyn­ich Man­u­script, much cov­ered here on Open Cul­ture, “there has been much spec­u­la­tion over what lan­guage, if any, is encod­ed — rang­ing from old Hun­gar­i­an to San­skrit, or even a spe­cial­ly invent­ed one — as well as debate over the book’s ori­gin and date of cre­ation.” Most col­or­ful­ly, some attribute it to the noto­ri­ous nine­teenth-cen­tu­ry forg­er Sámuel Literáti Nemes.

Down­load this PDF scan of the Rohonc Codex, and you can behold for your­self both its often charm­ing­ly sim­ple medieval-style illus­tra­tions — many of which exhib­it a mix­ture of Chris­t­ian, Pagan, and Mus­lim sym­bol­ism — and the fiendish­ly reg­u­lar-look­ing script against which gen­er­a­tions of would-be deci­pher­ers have banged their heads. Here in the twen­ty-twen­ties, per­haps arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence can do its part, as has been attempt­ed with the Voyn­ich Man­u­script, to build upon ear­li­er analy­ses. One of those, con­duct­ed in the ear­ly nine­teen-sev­en­ties, deter­mined that, what­ev­er the lan­guage in which the Rohonc Codex was writ­ten, it shows no traces of case end­ings. To enthu­si­asts of bizarre man­u­scripts, that dis­cov­ery prob­a­bly means lit­tle, but to stu­dents of Mag­yar, noth­ing could come as a greater relief.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Explore a Dig­i­tized Edi­tion of the Voyn­ich Man­u­script, “the World’s Most Mys­te­ri­ous Book”

An Intro­duc­tion to the Voyn­ich Man­u­script, the World’s Most Mys­te­ri­ous Book

The Strangest Books in the World: Dis­cov­er The Madman’s Library, a Cap­ti­vat­ing Com­pendi­um of Pecu­liar Books & Man­u­scripts

An Intro­duc­tion to the Codex Seraphini­anus, the Strangest Book Ever Pub­lished

Solv­ing a 2,500-Year-Old Puz­zle: How a Cam­bridge Stu­dent Cracked an Ancient San­skrit Code

The Foot-Lick­ing Demons & Oth­er Strange Things in a 1921 Illus­trat­ed Man­u­script from Iran

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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How the Beatles Wrote Their Songs: From Early Demos to Final Recordings

More than a few of us can claim, with some con­fi­dence, to know every Bea­t­les song. And indeed it may be true, in that we’ve heard every track of all their stu­dio albums. But as decade after decade of Bea­t­les schol­ar­ship has demon­strat­ed, there’s know­ing their songs, and then there’s know­ing their songs. Musi­cian and YouTu­ber David Ben­nett has made it his project to attain the sec­ond kind of knowl­edge, and on his ded­i­cat­ed series UnBea­t­led, to share it with the pub­lic. In each UnBea­t­led video he ana­lyzes just one song — “Help!,” “Here Comes the Sun,” “Pen­ny Lane,” and so on — at a lev­el of detail fine enough to neces­si­tate not just break­ing it down to its com­po­nent tracks, but also exam­in­ing the demos and unre­leased takes record­ed in the stu­dio.

This process can reveal a great deal about the Bea­t­les’ song­writ­ing process, as Ben­nett explains in the video at the top of the post. In the course of twen­ty min­utes, he cov­ers eleven songs, a selec­tion not nec­es­sar­i­ly lim­it­ed to the group’s uni­ver­sal­ly praised com­po­si­tions.

Take the first, “Yel­low Sub­ma­rine,” whose ear­ly record­ings dif­fer both lyri­cal­ly, melod­i­cal­ly, and in time sig­na­ture from the ver­sion we know (and may or may not love), begin­ning with an idea of John’s and being fur­ther shaped by Paul through its iter­a­tions. Anoth­er of John’s musi­cal seeds is “Every­body Had a Hard Year,” whose fin­ger­pick­ing pat­tern (orig­i­nal­ly learned from Dono­van in India) is also heard in “Julia” and “Dear Pru­dence,”  and which evolved, with dif­fer­ent chords, into the mid­dle sec­tion of “I’ve Got a Feel­ing.”

Such inter­con­nec­tions come as rewards of close and deep lis­ten­ing to the Bea­t­les canon. And cer­tain songs turn out to be worlds of their own: “Straw­ber­ry Fields For­ev­er,” for instance, was assem­bled out of two com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent record­ings, then adjust­ed in tem­po and pitch to match in the mid­dle. One of those takes includes the voice of pro­duc­er George Mar­tin count­ing in the orches­tra, the pitch of which sug­gests that its mem­bers had orig­i­nal­ly played in a dif­fer­ent key than the one we hear. As Ben­nett notes, using the then rel­a­tive­ly nov­el tech­nol­o­gy of “vari-speed” had become prac­ti­cal­ly stan­dard in the Bea­t­les’ stu­dio process, as such tech­no­log­i­cal lay­er­ing and adjust­ment itself became a key part of their song­writ­ing process. It con­tributed much to their sig­na­ture “vibey, psy­che­del­ic, uncan­ny sound”: sought after by many bands over the past six decades, but nev­er tru­ly repli­cat­ed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

How John Lennon Wrote the Bea­t­les’ Best Song, “A Day in the Life”

“Tomor­row Nev­er Knows”: How The Bea­t­les Invent­ed the Future With Stu­dio Mag­ic, Tape Loops & LSD

Is “Rain” the Per­fect Bea­t­les Song?: A New Video Explores the Rad­i­cal Inno­va­tions of the 1966 B‑Side

The “Straw­ber­ry Fields For­ev­er” Demos: The Mak­ing of a Bea­t­les Clas­sic (1966)

How the Bea­t­les Exper­i­ment­ed with Indi­an Music & Pio­neered a New Rock and Roll Sound

How George Mar­tin Defined the Sound of the Bea­t­les: From String Quar­tets to Back­wards Gui­tar Solos

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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Bruce Springsteen Revives the Protest Song, Condemns ICE Violence in “Streets of Minneapolis”

If there’s a sil­ver lin­ing to our tumul­tuous times, it’s that musi­cians are reviv­ing the protest song, a tra­di­tion that has with­ered since the end of the Viet­nam War. Cre­dence Clear­wa­ter Revival’s “For­tu­nate Son,” Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restau­rant,” Jimi Hen­drix’s “Machine Gun”—these songs all took aim at the John­son and Nixon admin­is­tra­tions’ increas­ing­ly mis­guid­ed war effort. But it was Neil Young who wrote the most damn­ing protest song. When the Ohio Nation­al Guard shot and killed four stu­dents at Kent State in 1970, Young dis­ap­peared for a few hours and returned with the haunt­ing lyrics of “Ohio.”

Tin sol­diers and Nixon com­ing,
We’re final­ly on our own.
This sum­mer I hear the drum­ming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Got­ta get down to it
Sol­diers are cut­ting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

With his new song released this week, Bruce Spring­steen picks up this thread. “Streets Of Min­neapo­lis” doc­u­ments the mur­der of civil­ians in Min­neso­ta’s largest city. On Jan­u­ary 7, ICE agent Jonathan Ross shot Renee Good repeat­ed­ly in the head, leav­ing the moth­er of three dead. On Jan­u­ary 24, two fed­er­al agents fired at least 10 shots at Alex Pret­ti, killing the ICU nurse instant­ly. Days lat­er, the iden­ti­ty of these mur­der­ers remains hidden—something that news orga­ni­za­tions odd­ly don’t seem trou­bled by, almost as if we’re qui­et­ly accept­ing that we’re liv­ing in a police state. When was the last time Amer­i­can agents could wear masks before killing civil­ians, and then hide behind a veil of anonymi­ty after? Yeah, that’s nor­mal.

On social media, Spring­steen wrote: “I wrote this song on Sat­ur­day, record­ed it yes­ter­day and released it to you today in response to the state ter­ror being vis­it­ed on the city of Min­neapo­lis. It’s ded­i­cat­ed to the peo­ple of Min­neapo­lis, our inno­cent immi­grant neigh­bors and in mem­o­ry of Alex Pret­ti and Renee Good.” You can read the lyrics below.

Through the winter’s ice and cold
Down Nicol­let Avenue
A city aflame fought fire and ice
‘Neath an occupier’s boots
King Trump’s pri­vate army from the DHS
Guns belt­ed to their coats
Came to Min­neapo­lis to enforce the law
Or so their sto­ry goes
Against smoke and rub­ber bul­lets
By the dawn’s ear­ly light
Cit­i­zens stood for jus­tice
Their voic­es ring­ing through the night
And there were bloody foot­prints
Where mer­cy should have stood
And two dead left to die on snow-filled streets
Alex Pret­ti and Renee Good

Oh our Min­neapo­lis, I hear your voice
Singing through the bloody mist
We’ll take our stand for this land
And the stranger in our midst
Here in our home they killed and roamed
In the win­ter of ’26
We’ll remem­ber the names of those who died
On the streets of Min­neapo­lis

Trump’s fed­er­al thugs beat up on
His face and his chest
Then we heard the gun­shots
And Alex Pret­ti lay in the snow, dead
Their claim was self defense, sir
Just don’t believe your eyes
It’s our blood and bones
And these whis­tles and phones
Against Miller and Noem’s dirty lies

Oh our Min­neapo­lis, I hear your voice
Cry­ing through the bloody mist
We’ll remem­ber the names of those who died
On the streets of Min­neapo­lis

Now they say they’re here to uphold the law
But they tram­ple on our rights
If your skin is black or brown my friend
You can be ques­tioned or deport­ed on sight

In chants of ICE out now
Our city’s heart and soul per­sists
Through bro­ken glass and bloody tears
On the streets of Min­neapo­lis

Oh our Min­neapo­lis, I hear your voice
Singing through the bloody mist
Here in our home they killed and roamed
In the win­ter of ’26
We’ll take our stand for this land
And the stranger in our midst
We’ll remem­ber the names of those who died
On the streets of Min­neapo­lis
We’ll remem­ber the names of those who died
On the streets of Min­neapo­lis

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Leg­endary Protest Songs from Wood­stock: Hen­drix, Jef­fer­son Air­plane, Coun­try Joe & More Per­form Protest Songs Dur­ing the Music Fes­ti­val That Launched 50 Years Ago This Week

David Byrne Curates a Playlist of Great Protest Songs Writ­ten Over the Past 60 Years: Stream Them Online

The Pow­er­ful Mes­sages That Woody Guthrie & Pete Seeger Inscribed on Their Gui­tar & Ban­jo: “This Machine Kills Fas­cists” and “This Machine Sur­rounds Hate and Forces it to Sur­ren­der”

Nina Simone’s Live Per­for­mances of Her Poignant Civ­il Rights Protest Songs

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Walter Benjamin Explains How Fascism Uses Mass Media to Turn Politics Into Spectacle (1935)

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

In his 1935 essay, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechan­i­cal Repro­ducibil­i­ty,” influ­en­tial Ger­man-Jew­ish crit­ic Wal­ter Ben­jamin intro­duced the term “aura” to describe an authen­tic expe­ri­ence of art. Aura relates to the phys­i­cal prox­im­i­ty between objects and their view­ers. Its loss, Ben­jamin argued, was a dis­tinct­ly 20th-cen­tu­ry phe­nom­e­non caused by mass media’s impo­si­tion of dis­tance between object and view­er, though it appears to bring art clos­er through a sim­u­la­tion of inti­ma­cy.

The essay makes for potent read­ing today. Mass media — which for Ben­jamin meant radio, pho­tog­ra­phy, and film — turns us all into poten­tial actors, crit­ics, experts, he wrote, and takes art out of the realm of the sacred and into the realm of the spec­ta­cle. Yet it retains the pre­tense of rit­u­al. We make offer­ings to cults of per­son­al­i­ty, expand­ed in our time to include influ­encers and revered and reviled bil­lion­aires and polit­i­cal fig­ures who joust in the head­lines like pro­fes­sion­al wrestlers, led around by the chief of all heels. As Ben­jamin writes:

The film responds to the shriv­el­ing of the aura with an arti­fi­cial build-up of the “per­son­al­i­ty” out­side the stu­dio. The cult of the movie star,  fos­tered by the mon­ey of the film indus­try, pre­serves not the unique aura of the per­son but the “spell of the per­son­al­i­ty,” the pho­ny spell of a com­mod­i­ty.

Benjamin’s focus on the medi­um as not only expres­sive but con­sti­tu­tive of mean­ing has made his essay a sta­ple on com­mu­ni­ca­tions and media the­o­ry course syl­labi, next to the work of Mar­shall McLuhan. Many read­ings tend to leave aside the pol­i­tics of its epi­logue, like­ly since “his rem­e­dy,” writes Mar­tin Jay — “the politi­ciza­tion of art by Com­mu­nism — was for­got­ten by all but his most mil­i­tant Marx­ist inter­preters,” and hard­ly seemed like much of a rem­e­dy dur­ing the Cold War, when Ben­jamin became more wide­ly avail­able in trans­la­tion.

Benjamin’s own idio­syn­crat­ic pol­i­tics aside, his essay antic­i­pates a cri­sis of author­ship and author­i­ty cur­rent­ly sur­fac­ing in the use of social media as a dom­i­nant form of polit­i­cal spec­ta­cle.

With the increas­ing exten­sion of the press, which kept plac­ing new polit­i­cal, reli­gious, sci­en­tif­ic, pro­fes­sion­al, and local organs before the read­ers, an increas­ing num­ber of read­ers became writers—at first, occa­sion­al ones. It began with the dai­ly press open­ing to its read­ers space for “let­ters to the edi­tor.” And today there is hard­ly a gain­ful­ly employed Euro­pean who could not, in prin­ci­ple, find an oppor­tu­ni­ty to pub­lish some­where or oth­er com­ments on his work, griev­ances, doc­u­men­tary reports, or that sort of thing. Thus, the dis­tinc­tion between author and pub­lic is about to lose its basic char­ac­ter.

Benjamin’s analy­sis of con­ven­tion­al film, espe­cial­ly, leads him to con­clude that its recep­tion required so lit­tle of view­ers that they eas­i­ly become dis­tract­ed. Everyone’s a crit­ic, but “at the movies this posi­tion requires no atten­tion. The pub­lic is an exam­in­er, but an absent-mind­ed one.” Pas­sive con­sump­tion and habit­u­al dis­trac­tion do not make for con­sid­ered, informed opin­ion or a healthy sense of pro­por­tion.

What Ben­jamin referred to (in trans­la­tion) as mechan­i­cal repro­ducibil­i­ty we might now just call The Inter­net (and the coter­ies of “things” it haunts pol­ter­geist-like). Lat­er the­o­rists influ­enced by Ben­jamin fore­saw our age of dig­i­tal repro­ducibil­i­ty doing away with the need for authen­tic objects, and real peo­ple, alto­geth­er. Ben­jamin him­self might char­ac­ter­ize a medi­um that can ful­ly detach from the phys­i­cal world and the mate­r­i­al con­di­tions of its users — a medi­um in which every­one gets a col­umn, pub­lic pho­to gallery, and video pro­duc­tion stu­dio — as ide­al­ly suit­ed to the aims of fas­cism.

Fas­cism attempts to orga­nize the new­ly cre­at­ed pro­le­tar­i­an mass­es with­out affect­ing the prop­er­ty struc­ture which the mass­es strive to elim­i­nate. Fas­cism sees its sal­va­tion in giv­ing these mass­es not their right, but instead a chance to express them­selves. The mass­es have a right to change prop­er­ty rela­tions; Fas­cism seeks to give them an expres­sion while pre­serv­ing prop­er­ty. The log­i­cal result of Fas­cism is the intro­duc­tion of aes­thet­ics into polit­i­cal life.

The log­i­cal result of turn­ing pol­i­tics into spec­ta­cle for the sake of pre­serv­ing inequal­i­ty, writes Ben­jamin, is the roman­ti­ciza­tion of war and slaugh­ter, glo­ri­fied plain­ly in the Ital­ian Futur­ist man­i­festo of Fil­ip­po Marinet­ti and the lit­er­ary work of Nazi intel­lec­tu­als like Ernst Jünger. Ben­jamin ends the essay with a dis­cus­sion of how fas­cism aes­theti­cizes pol­i­tics to one end: the anni­hi­la­tion of aura by more per­ma­nent means.

Under the rise of fas­cism in Europe, Ben­jamin saw that human “self-alien­ation has reached such a degree that it can expe­ri­ence its own destruc­tion as an aes­thet­ic plea­sure of the first order. This is the sit­u­a­tion of pol­i­tics which Fas­cism is ren­der­ing aes­thet­ic.” Those who par­tic­i­pate in this spec­ta­cle seek mass vio­lence “to sup­ply the artis­tic grat­i­fi­ca­tion of a sense per­cep­tion that has been changed by tech­nol­o­gy.” Dis­tract­ed and desen­si­tized, they seek, that is, to com­pen­sate for pro­found dis­em­bod­i­ment and the loss of mean­ing­ful, authen­tic expe­ri­ence.

You can read Ben­jam­in’s essay here, or find it in this col­lect­ed vol­ume.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2022.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

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

Toni Mor­ri­son Lists the 10 Steps That Lead Coun­tries to Fas­cism (1995)

Are You a Fas­cist?: Take Theodor Adorno’s Author­i­tar­i­an Per­son­al­i­ty Test Cre­at­ed to Com­bat Fas­cism (1947)

The Sto­ry of Fas­cism: Rick Steves’ Doc­u­men­tary Helps Us Learn from the Hard Lessons of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

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The World’s Oldest Cave Art, Discovered in Indonesia, Is at Least 67,800 Years Old

Image by Ahdi Agus Okta­viana

Over the cen­turies, a vari­ety of places have laid cred­i­ble claim to being the world’s art cen­ter: Con­stan­tino­ple, Flo­rence, Paris, New York. But on the scale of, say, ten mil­len­nia, the hot spots become rather less rec­og­niz­able. Up until about 20,000 years ago, it seems that cre­ators and view­ers of art alike spent a good deal in one par­tic­u­lar cave: Liang Metan­duno, locat­ed on Muna Island in Indone­si­a’s South­east Sulawe­si province. The many paint­ings on its walls of rec­og­niz­able humans, ani­mals, and boats have brought it fame in our times as a kind of ancient art gallery. But in recent years, a much old­er piece of work has been dis­cov­ered there, one whose cre­ation occurred at least 67,800 years ago.

The cre­ation in ques­tion is a hand­print, faint but detectable, prob­a­bly made by blow­ing a mix­ture of ochre and water over an actu­al human hand. To deter­mine its age, researchers per­formed what’s called ura­ni­um-series analy­sis on the deposits of cal­ci­um car­bon­ate that had built up on and around it.

The num­ber of 67,800 years is, of course, not exact, but it’s also just a min­i­mum: in fact, the hand­print could well be much old­er. In a paper pub­lished last week in Nature, the researchers point out that its age exceeds both that of the old­est sim­i­lar rock art found else­where in Indone­sia and that of a hand sten­cil in Spain attrib­uted to Nean­derthals, “which until now rep­re­sent­ed the old­est demon­strat­ed min­i­mum-age con­straint for cave art world­wide.”

It isn’t impos­si­ble that this at least 67,800-year-old hand­print could also have been made by Nean­derthals. The obvi­ous mod­i­fi­ca­tion of the hand’s shape, how­ev­er, an exten­sion and taper­ing of the fin­gers that brings to mind ani­mal claws (or the clutch­es of Nos­fer­atu), sug­gests to cer­tain sci­en­tif­ic eyes the kind of cog­ni­tion attrib­ut­able specif­i­cal­ly to Homo sapi­ens. This dis­cov­ery has great poten­tial rel­e­vance not just to art his­to­ry, but even more so to oth­er fields con­cerned with the devel­op­ment of our species. While it had pre­vi­ous­ly been thought, for instance, that the first human set­tlers of Aus­tralia made their way there through Indone­sia (in a time of much low­er sea lev­els) between 50,000 and 65,000 years ago, the hand­print­’s exis­tence in Liang Metan­duno sug­gests that the migra­tion took place even ear­li­er. All these mil­len­nia lat­er, Aus­tralia remains a favored des­ti­na­tion for a vari­ety of immi­grants — some of whom do their part to keep Syd­ney’s art scene inter­est­ing.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Alger­ian Cave Paint­ings Sug­gest Humans Did Mag­ic Mush­rooms 9,000 Years Ago

Was a 32,000-Year-Old Cave Paint­ing the Ear­li­est Form of Cin­e­ma?

Archae­ol­o­gists Dis­cov­er the World’s First “Art Stu­dio” Cre­at­ed in an Ethiopi­an Cave 43,000 Years Ago

A Recent­ly Dis­cov­ered 44,000-Year-Old Cave Paint­ing Tells the Old­est Known Sto­ry

40,000-Year-Old Sym­bols Found in Caves World­wide May Be the Ear­li­est Writ­ten Lan­guage

Archae­ol­o­gists Dis­cov­er 200,000-Year-Old Hand & Foot­prints That Could Be the World’s Ear­li­est Cave Art

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. He’s the author of the newslet­ter Books on Cities as well as the books 한국 요약 금지 (No Sum­ma­riz­ing Korea) and Kore­an Newtro. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

 

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

Image by Bernd Schwabe, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

At least when I was in grade school, we learned the very basics of how the Third Reich came to pow­er in the ear­ly 1930s. Para­mil­i­tary gangs ter­ror­iz­ing the oppo­si­tion, the incom­pe­tence and oppor­tunism of Ger­man con­ser­v­a­tives, the Reich­stag Fire. And we learned about the crit­i­cal impor­tance of pro­pa­gan­da, the delib­er­ate mis­in­form­ing of the pub­lic in order to sway opin­ions en masse and achieve pop­u­lar sup­port (or at least the appear­ance of it). While Min­is­ter of Pro­pa­gan­da Joseph Goebbels purged Jew­ish and left­ist artists and writ­ers, he built a mas­sive media infra­struc­ture that played, writes PBS, “prob­a­bly the most impor­tant role in cre­at­ing an atmos­phere in Ger­many that made it pos­si­ble for the Nazis to com­mit ter­ri­ble atroc­i­ties against Jews, homo­sex­u­als, and oth­er minori­ties.”

How did the minor­i­ty par­ty of Hitler and Goebbels take over and break the will of the Ger­man peo­ple so thor­ough­ly that they would allow and par­tic­i­pate in mass mur­der? Post-war schol­ars of total­i­tar­i­an­ism like Theodor Adorno and Han­nah Arendt asked that ques­tion over and over, for sev­er­al decades after­ward. Their ear­li­est stud­ies on the sub­ject looked at two sides of the equa­tion. Adorno con­tributed to a mas­sive vol­ume of social psy­chol­o­gy called The Author­i­tar­i­an Per­son­al­i­ty, which stud­ied indi­vid­u­als pre­dis­posed to the appeals of total­i­tar­i­an­ism. He invent­ed what he called the F‑Scale (“F” for “fas­cism”), one of sev­er­al mea­sures he used to the­o­rize the Author­i­tar­i­an Per­son­al­i­ty Type.

Arendt, on the oth­er hand, looked close­ly at the regimes of Hitler and Stal­in and their func­tionar­ies, at the ide­ol­o­gy of sci­en­tif­ic racism, and at the mech­a­nism of pro­pa­gan­da in fos­ter­ing “a curi­ous­ly vary­ing mix­ture of gulli­bil­i­ty and cyn­i­cism with which each mem­ber… is expect­ed to react to the chang­ing lying state­ments of the lead­ers.” So she wrote in her 1951 Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism, going on to elab­o­rate that this “mix­ture of gulli­bil­i­ty and cyn­i­cism… is preva­lent in all ranks of total­i­tar­i­an move­ments”:

In an ever-chang­ing, incom­pre­hen­si­ble world the mass­es had reached the point where they would, at the same time, believe every­thing and noth­ing, think that every­thing was pos­si­ble and noth­ing was true… The total­i­tar­i­an mass lead­ers based their pro­pa­gan­da on the cor­rect psy­cho­log­i­cal assump­tion that, under such con­di­tions, one could make peo­ple believe the most fan­tas­tic state­ments one day, and trust that if the next day they were giv­en irrefutable proof of their false­hood, they would take refuge in cyn­i­cism; instead of desert­ing the lead­ers who had lied to them, they would protest that they had known all along that the state­ment was a lie and would admire the lead­ers for their supe­ri­or tac­ti­cal clev­er­ness.

Why the con­stant, often bla­tant lying? For one thing, it func­tioned as a means of ful­ly dom­i­nat­ing sub­or­di­nates, who would have to cast aside all their integri­ty to repeat out­ra­geous false­hoods and would then be bound to the leader by shame and com­plic­i­ty. “The great ana­lysts of truth and lan­guage in pol­i­tics”—writes McGill Uni­ver­si­ty polit­i­cal phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sor Jacob T. Levy—includ­ing “George Orwell, Han­nah Arendt, Vaclav Havel—can help us rec­og­nize this kind of lie for what it is.… Say­ing some­thing obvi­ous­ly untrue, and mak­ing your sub­or­di­nates repeat it with a straight face in their own voice, is a par­tic­u­lar­ly star­tling dis­play of pow­er over them. It’s some­thing that was endem­ic to total­i­tar­i­an­ism.”

Arendt and oth­ers rec­og­nized, writes Levy, that “being made to repeat an obvi­ous lie makes it clear that you’re pow­er­less.” She also rec­og­nized the func­tion of an avalanche of lies to ren­der a pop­u­lace pow­er­less to resist, the phe­nom­e­non we now refer to as “gaslight­ing”:

The result of a con­sis­tent and total sub­sti­tu­tion of lies for fac­tu­al truth is not that the lie will now be accept­ed as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bear­ings in the real world—and the cat­e­go­ry of truth ver­sus false­hood is among the men­tal means to this end—is being destroyed.

The epis­te­mo­log­i­cal ground thus pulled out from under them, most would depend on what­ev­er the leader said, no mat­ter its rela­tion to truth. “The essen­tial con­vic­tion shared by all ranks,” Arendt con­clud­ed, “from fel­low trav­el­er to leader, is that pol­i­tics is a game of cheat­ing and that the ‘first com­mand­ment’ of the move­ment: ‘The Fuehrer is always right,’ is as nec­es­sary for the pur­pos­es of world pol­i­tics, i.e., world-wide cheat­ing, as the rules of mil­i­tary dis­ci­pline are for the pur­pos­es of war.”

Arendt wrote Ori­gins of Total­i­tar­i­an­ism from research and obser­va­tions gath­ered dur­ing the 1940s, a very spe­cif­ic his­tor­i­cal peri­od. Nonethe­less the book, Jef­frey Isaacs remarks at The Wash­ing­ton Post, “rais­es a set of fun­da­men­tal ques­tions about how tyran­ny can arise and the dan­ger­ous forms of inhu­man­i­ty to which it can lead.” Arendt’s analy­sis of pro­pa­gan­da and the func­tion of lies seems par­tic­u­lar­ly rel­e­vant at this moment. The kinds of bla­tant lies she wrote of might become so com­mon­place as to become banal. We might begin to think they are an irrel­e­vant sideshow. This, she sug­gests, would be a mis­take.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2017.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Are You a Fas­cist?: Take Theodor Adorno’s Author­i­tar­i­an Per­son­al­i­ty Test Cre­at­ed to Com­bat Fas­cism (1947)

Umber­to Eco’s List of the 14 Com­mon Fea­tures of Fas­cism

The Sto­ry of Fas­cism: Rick Steves’ Doc­u­men­tary Helps Us Learn from the Painful Lessons of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Han­nah Arendt on “Per­son­al Respon­si­bil­i­ty Under Dic­ta­tor­ship:” Bet­ter to Suf­fer Than Col­lab­o­rate

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