Book discussion


A brief history of book banning

It’s Banned Books Week, so let’s look at the history of book bans in Europe and America. Here I’m sticking to actual bans by legal force. I hope to show that while not all banned books are praiseworthy, stopping their message by prohibition seldom has good results and often opens the way for broader bans.

The first book printed in Europe with movable type was the Gutenberg Bible, issued in the 1450s. Before that, there was censorship, but the technology to mass-produce books didn’t exist. In spite of some legends, Gutenberg’s edition was never banned; it used an accepted translation of the Bible, predating the Protestant Reformation’s competing translations. However, the Church soon began prohibiting books. François Rabelais and Niccolò Machiavelli were among the first targets of Rome’s wrath. The Index Librorum Prohibitorum, first issued in 1560 and revised many times, made the practice more systematic. The Church held legal power at the time, and distributing a prohibited book could result not only in eternal damnation but in confiscation and destruction of the books as well as other penalties.

William Tyndale’s translation of the Bible into English (ca. 1526) was banned under Henry VIII and burned. Tyndale was executed in 1536 for heresy.

Some books were permitted if offending parts were “expurgated” by blacking out or tearing out. Sometimes just the author’s name was removed, because it was the author and not the contents that had offended the Church.

Banning led to the licensing of books. In effect, books were banned by default, and only authorized ones could be printed. England’s Parliament adopted this practice in the 17th century. John Milton wrote the essay “Areopagitica” in 1644 to oppose the legislation. He argued that people need to be exposed to ideas they disagree with if they’re going to have any confidence in their own views. “I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary.” His arguments will look familiar to today’s liberal opponents of prohibition and censorship.

Milton didn’t meet with much success. The Licensing of the Press Act of 1662, designed to stop “seditious” material, banned the printing of books without a license and severely restricted imports. The printer John Twyn was executed for treason in 1664. The law lapsed in 1694.

In France in the late 16th through 18th centuries, the publication of a book required royal approval. In practice, the authority was delegated. By the 18th century, many books were printed without explicit authorization. Spain may have had the strictest book censorship of any European country. The Inquisition kept a close watch on printers and booksellers, prohibiting works that promoted non-Catholic religious ideas.

In 1637, Thomas Morton published New English Canaan in the Netherlands, which had fairly liberal laws; the copies he had brought to London were seized. It was also outlawed in Massachusetts, and it’s often said to be the first book banned in England’s American colonies.

In 1873 in the United States, the Comstock Act prohibited a broad range of “obscene” books. That included not just books that mentioned sex, but information on birth control and abortion. A series of court decisions over the next century struck down nearly all its prohibitions.

In 1973, Daniel Ellsberg released the Pentagon Papers to multiple news outlets; the document was eventually published as a book. He was prosecuted under the Espionage Act of 1917, but all charges against him were dismissed.

The Nazi government of Germany in the 1930s and 40s practiced heavy censorship, especially of any works with Jewish connections. Books were burned in public. Modern Germany still bans some kinds of books, including pro-Nazi and Holocaust denial material.

Russia had heavy book prohibition under the Communists and has returned to those levels under Putin.

In spite of all that has happened in recent years, the United States has one of the highest levels of press freedom in world history. Attempts to exclude broad categories of books from libraries are a matter of concern, but they’re small potatoes compared to what we have experienced in the past and could experience again.

This article is the product of just a couple of hours of work. Apologies for any errors.


Book discussion: A History of Repeated Injuries

The founders of the United States objected to certain practices by the British government and declared independence to be rid of them. They didn’t entirely succeed, though. The eight essays in the Cato Institute’s A History of Repeated Injuries show that many of them have come back in new forms, harming us and infringing on our rights. Thus, the title applies in two senses: first in the sense the Declaration used, but also that they have been “repeated” many times since the Revolution supposedly brought them to an end.

The first article, “The Purpose and Limits of Government” by Roger Pilon, is different from the others. It presents an overview of libertarian ideas rather than addressing a specific problem. It makes some good points but attempts too much in too short a space. Pilon addresses some of the more difficult issues facing libertarians and offers answers, but it takes a longer essay, if not a whole book, to properly cover some of the matters raised.

The other pieces each focus on a specific concern of America’s founders and show how the nation has fallen short in addressing it. “How Plea-Driven Mass Adjudication Undermines Americans’ Right to a Jury Trial,” by Clark Neily, compares the guarantees in the Bill of Rights to the present state of affairs. The Sixth Amendment says, “In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury.” Today, most criminal cases don’t go to a jury trial. They’re resolved by plea bargaining, which in practice means you plead guilty to a lesser charge under the threat of having heavier charges brought against you. That leaves defendants, whether guilty or not, having to decide whether they should accept a shorter sentence or risk a much longer one if they demand a jury trial. The question becomes not one of guilt or innocence but of risk assessment.

“The Seventh Amendment Civil Jury Right and Agency Adjudication,” a short article by Thomas A. Berry, deals with another aspect of trial without a jury. Many legal penalties are levied by government agencies rather than courts. The administrative panels are tied to their parent agencies, so they’re prone to bias in their favor.

“A Revolt Against Discriminatory Taxation,” by Adam M. Michel and Joshua Loucks, is mostly about the history of taxation in the colonial period and the first few decades of the US government. It notes that the colonial complaints weren’t just about “taxation without representation” but also about unfair levying. For instance, the Boston Tea Party wasn’t just about the imposition of a tax by Parliament; the tax was set up to give a monopoly to the East India Company, which had an exclusive exemption. The article goes on to discuss early tax revolts, such as Shays’ Rebellion and the Whiskey Rebellion, and the motives behind them.

David Bier’s “The Founders’ Policy of Free Immigration,” deals with a topic that’s especially relevant today. The founders of the US positively encouraged immigration; one of the complaints in the Declaration was about “obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners.” The article covers the history of immigration law. Until the 1880s, there were no significant restrictions. The first limitations were on Chinese immigration, largely motivated by racial stereotypes held by white Californians (and non-Chinese immigrants competing for jobs). It was only in the 1920s that strong limits on immigration became the default under US law.

“The Withering of the Old Republic — The Decline of Anti-Militarism in American Politics,” by Brandan P. Buck, deals with the growing militarization of the US through its history. The Founders strongly distrusted standing armies and involvement in foreign wars, and the Constitution has a sunset requirement for all military appropriations. There was strong opposition to the US entry into World War I, but such opposition as there was to World War II involvement collapsed. Perhaps Hitler was a special case, but even after that the US fought many more foreign wars than before — without declaring war even once. Truman personally dragged the US into Korea’s civil war, forcing many Americans into it, and Vietnam followed. Congress has increasingly let presidents conduct military action in foreign countries with open-ended authorizations of military force.

Douglas A. Irwin’s “The Founders’ Trade Grievances — and Today’s” overlaps with the prior article on taxation, but with a focus on trade restrictions. The relevant objection in the Declaration is “for cutting off our trade with all parts of the world.” The US imposed tariffs aimed at revenue from an early time, and they were a subject of controversy among many economic factions. Only one paragraph deals with the current tariff controversy.

“A History of Government by Executive Order,” by Brent Skorup, looks at the expanding scope and questionable constitutionality of executive orders by the president. Lincoln made unprecedented use of them during the Civil War, but it was only with Theodore Roosevelt that their use in normal times began to expand seriously. The president has been given broad power to act in an emergency, but “emergencies” are often loosely defined and become permanent conditions. Among the most notorious is Franklin Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066, which sent Japanese-Americans not accused of any crime to concentration camps.

These articles are interesting, informative, and often alarming. The main problem is that they’re brief for what they aim to cover. A reader can use the book as a starting point for learning about these issues. It shows that many of the abuses of power we face today didn’t start with Trump. They’ve grown over many years, often getting little attention. The perspectives we get here should be more widely known.


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Book discussion: Toscanini: Musician of Conscience

Toscanini: Musician of Conscience was a huge reading project but worth it. It covers the long career of one of the most important orchestra conductors, the man who conducted the premiere of Pagliacci in 1892 and lived long enough to make long-playing records. He was a celebrity in Europe and the Americas and courageously stood up to Mussolini in his home country.

I must admit to skimming through parts of the book. His role in music and politics is most important to me, and I went quickly over parts dealing with his personal relations.

Toscanini was a top-rank conductor with an incredible memory, but I wouldn’t want to be a musician under him. He demanded the best from his musicians, and sometimes he could be extremely rude and unfair with them. On one occasion, he broke a violinist’s bow with his baton. At the same time, he recognized excellence.

In politics, if not at the podium, he was an enemy of tyranny. After a brief period of admiring Mussolini, he recognized that the would-be Duce was a brutal power-luster. In 1924 he refused an order to display Mussolini’s picture. On one occasion, when he refused to perform the Fascist anthem, a gang of Blackshirts beat him up as the police passively watched. In 1938 he left Italy and didn’t return until after World War II.

Sachs discusses his relationships with musicians who remained in Germany and Italy during the dictatorships. Withdrawing from the Bayreuth Festival was a painful decision for him. He condemned Wilhelm Furtwängler for continuing to lend his prestige to the Nazi government.

Sachs writes about an incredible number of affairs Toscanini had with women. He lets Toscanini look honorable for the most part, but I have to wonder. I didn’t see any mention of whether he ever got anyone pregnant; while he wasn’t an observant Catholic, he lived in a culture that was strongly hostile to abortion and even birth control. But as I said, I skimmed over those parts of the book, so I may have missed something.

My main complaint about the book is that its mentions of years are thin. I often had trouble figuring out in which year an event took place. That can be especially annoying if you’re using the book for reference.

This book isn’t a light weekend read, but it’s a fascinating look at an important musician and a courageous person. If you’re willing to commit the time, it’s an excellent book.


Book discussion: How Jesus Became God

Christianity is a big part of our culture, and even non-Christians have to make some sense of it. I like Bart Ehrman’s treatments of Biblical research. He’s skeptical but not belligerent. I’ve previously read his Misquoting Jesus and enjoyed it. How Jesus Became God addresses questions I’ve been curious about: Why do Christians think he was God incarnate? What exactly do they mean by it? The average Christian isn’t sure, and the more you dig into the questions, the weirder it gets.

Ehrman accepts the existence of the historical Jesus but says he never claimed to be divine. His status gradually grew after his death. Jesus’s followers believed he had risen from the dead, so he was the “Son of God” in some sense, at least after his resurrection. By steps which Ehrman traces, the idea expanded. First he gained special status after the resurrection; then he was anointed of God through his ministry, then from his birth, and at last from the beginning of time. Many variations of these views existed side by side, with their advocates calling each other heretics. The Nicean Council tried to standardize the belief, but it wasn’t till years later that Christianity mostly settled down to the currently standard view.

Cover of How Jesus Became GodThis view is that Jesus is God but isn’t God the Father; that God is one but also three; that the Son was begotten of the Father but always existed from the beginning of time. Make sense of that if you can. For most Christians, these details don’t matter, but early Christians thought that if they didn’t get Jesus’s nature exactly right, they might go to Hell for blasphemy. Apparently God is full of mercy but will torture believers forever if they don’t pass a theology quiz.

Ehrman notes that the only Gospel in which Jesus claims to be a divine being is John, which scholars think was written later than the others. If he really made such claims, he notes, it’s strange that Matthew, Mark, and Luke don’t mention them.

In Ehrman’s view, Jesus was an apocalyptic preacher, expecting the world to end soon and be replaced by the Kingdom of God under his leadership. He thought he was a Messiah but not a divine being. There were many others like him. Ehrman thinks the reason Christianity was so successful was that Jesus’s followers had “visions” of him as a resurrected person. He uses the term as a neutral one, not taking a position on whether they were real or not. There comes one of the problems with the book: it promotes a compartmentalized way of thinking. Ehrman refuses to take a stand as a historian on whether the resurrection happened or not.

He writes: “Religious faith and historical knowledge are two different ways of ‘knowing.’ This effectively grants equal validity to both. Elsewhere he claims, “University intellectuals almost never speak of ‘objectivity’ any more, unless they happen to live on the margins of intellectual life.” If objectivity is impossible, if research and bald assertion have equal epistemological status, then anything goes.

Ehrman’s description of the official Christian (or at least Catholic) position on Jesus’s nature makes it sound even crazier than I had thought. He argues convincingly that Jesus probably didn’t have a proper burial but was just thrown on a pile of bodies; that was what the Romans did with crucified people. But if Jesus wasn’t buried in a tomb, there couldn’t have been an empty tomb to find. The whole account unravels, yet Ehrman won’t say that the claims of Jesus’s recognition are groundless fantasy.

These notions aren’t harmless stories. As Ehrman notes, Christian authorities have had many people tortured and executed for heresy. The Jewish people were persecuted for centuries for killing the immortal God. Nonsense should be called out as nonsense when it affects people’s lives.

Even so, How Jesus Became God is very readable, and Ehrman’s explanation of the development of Christian beliefs is fascinating. If that’s a subject that interests you, I think you’ll like the book.


Book discussion: It Can’t Happen Here

Sinclair Lewis’s novel of an American dictatorship, It Can’t Happen Here, seems even more timely today than when it was published in 1935. It tells of the election of Buzz Windrip as president, his seizure of absolute power, and how it affects people.

Cover of It Can't Happen Here by Sinclair LewisWindrip is so Trump-like you might think Lewis had a crystal ball looking into our present. He aims for total control while posturing as an ordinary, unassuming person. His platform is incoherent, laced with bigotry while appealing to the “Forgotten Man.” His Cabinet selections are based on personal loyalty. He has a personal police force, the “Minute Men,” to intimidate his critics. He even has an advisor who is smarter and more ruthless than he is.

What make’s Windrip’s success possible is the complacency and indifference of the American people. As he plainly says he’s going to reduce Congress to an advisory capacity, people think he’s just going to fix the country up. The novel’s main focus isn’t on the centers of power but on Doremus Jessup, the publisher of a small Vermont newspaper who’s trying to make sense of it all. This lets Lewis show how people react to Windrip before and after his takeover. Once he’s in office, he immediately suppresses the legislative and judicial branches, which give him no further trouble.

Lewis had seen what had happened in twentieth-century Russia, Germany, and Italy. He knew the USA wasn’t immune. Reading the novel gives a better understanding of what’s happening — and what could happen — today.