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Divali in the White House?

When Barack Obama became the first U.S. President to celebrate Divali in the White House in 2009, he sent a message to South Asian Americans that they are a part of the American national narrative. His actions were not only about lighting lamps and the remembrance of Indic myths, but they were also about the political recognition of an influential minority group in the United States. The President lighting the Divali lamps at the White House signified a public display of the expanse of American diversity. It was a milestone marking the recognition of South Asian-Americans as Americans and it was feted on the Internet and social media as such.

In 2017, President Donald Trump chose not to commemorate Ramadan with Eid al-Fitr celebrations at the White House. While campaigning for the presidency in 2016, he chose not to commemorate Divali and it remains to be seen whether he will continue the tradition of celebrating Divali in the White House. These presidential decisions signify much more than personal affinities, preferences, and religious convictions. Rather, they are means by which the American people, through the actions of their elected leaders, determine whether Hindus and Muslims are included as Americans within the American national narrative.

In the United States, cultural and religious festivals have become a visible means through which minority groups demand recognition in the public sphere. When government officials respond by acknowledging a particular culture’s celebrations, they offer recognition and effectively weave those cultural and religious expressions into the collective national narrative. In the political sphere, recognition is the first step toward representation, which guarantees rights and protection under the law. Governmental acknowledgments of particular cultural and religious celebrations make distinctions between insiders and outsiders to the national narrative.

Public festivals also unite diverse factions within minority communities and create positive relationships with surrounding communities. Divali is often celebrated through large-scale cultural events wherein the South Asian American community presents itself to its neighbors. Divali celebrations showcase bhangra dance troupes, classical Indian dance and music, vendors, and elaborate feasts. Large-scale Divali cultural exhibitions invite outsiders to learn about and appreciate South Asian cultures, to develop respectful relations, and to include South Asians in their understanding of what it means to be American.

President Barack Obama receives a red shawl from a Hindu priest at the White House prior to the 2009 Diwali festival of lights ceremony. Pete Souza, Executive Office of the President, Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

The lights of the autumnal festival of Divali illuminate many different stories, each of which belongs to a specific South Asian geographical region and religious tradition. Some Indian Hindus light the way home for Sita and Ram as they return to the mythic kingdom of Ayodhya after fourteen years in exile and a mighty battle with the demon Ravana, as told in the epic, The Rāmāyana. Others remember the ancient conversation between Yama, the god of Death and Nachiketa, from the Kaṭha Upanisad. In this famous scripture, Yama explains that only the internal essence of self, the Ātman, defeats death. Still others recall that the five nights of Divali begin when Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, is born from the gods (Devas) and demons (Asuras) churning of the ocean of milk (samudra manthan), which creates the drink of immortality (amrita). It concludes when Lakshmi marries her consort, the god Vishnu. Most religions include celebrations aimed to incite a successful harvest and Divali is mentioned as a harvest festival in both the Skanda and Padma Purāṇas. Hindus, Jains, Sikhs, and the Newar Buddhists of Nepal each have their own stories that inform their Divali celebrations.

Rajasekhara wrote in the Kāvyamimāṃsa (9th century) that people applied a new coat of whitewash to their homes and lit lamps each year at the time of Divali. Today, South Asians emplace themselves within Indic traditions by cleaning their homes, applying a new coat of paint, and lighting lamps and candles for Divali. It is an auspicious time for new purchases, from clothes to appliances, cars, and gold jewelry. Today, its lights range from traditional diyas, camphor flames in small clay cups, to strings of electric lights, and of course – fireworks.

Although Divali honors multiple mythical stories that vary by region and religion, it also unites diverse South Asian religious communities in the common celebration of the triumph of good over evil, light over darkness, and knowledge over ignorance. From the sidewalks of Los Angeles to the rooftops of Mumbai, Divali lights eclipse the darkness and newly whitewashed walls shine with optimism as communities come together to celebrate these victories. In celebrating this common thread, South Asian communities acknowledge their shared stories and histories and build communal solidarity through Divali celebrations.

Divali provides opportunities to build communal solidarity in the midst of diversity through the celebration of the triumph of goodness, light, and knowledge. As we sculpt our definitions of who we are as Americans through our daily actions and those of our elected officials, we could take a lesson from such a celebration.

Featured Image credit: diya necklace, Divali 2013, India. Ramnath Bhat, CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons .

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7 financial tips and facts

For most, October marks the beginning of autumn, Halloween celebrating, and preparation for the holiday season. However, what some might not realize is that October is also home to Financial Planning Month. For people either just starting out their careers or those who are about to enter into retirement, financial planning and budgeting can be a difficult, confusing area. In honor of Financial Planning Month, we decided to outline facts to provide some insight and tips on budgeting, investing, and retirement.

1. In 2015, millennials represented more than one in three American workers. Despite common belief that millennials are irresponsible with finances, a study shows that millennials save on average 8% of their salary for retirement which is not dissimilar from the 9% baby boomers save on average. Additionally, 74% of millennials surveyed said they are comfortable saving and investing extra money rather than spending it.

2. Genetic factors could make up to 35% of the variation in investment behavior, according to a recent study. This defines our likelihood of making emotional errors in investing and whether or not we realize our losses. However, aside from genetic factors, socio-economic influences and individual choice play a large role in our investing behavior.

3. A good way to get better at planning your budget is to practice the 50/30/20 model of budgeting – 50% of household income goes to needs, 30% to wants, and 20% to debt repayment and savings. With many people living on limited incomes and paying high rent prices, this model can help you prioritize what money you need to spend and what money can be saved.

4. The frugal, penny-pinching mindset that many take on in order to save for a fulfilling, relaxing retirement often carries over into one’s actual retirement. Meir Statman discusses mistakes made in retirement spending and how conscientiousness can keep people from spending the money they’ve saved. Statman suggests structuring retirement spending with “managed payout” funds.

5. The study of behavioral economics considers the motivations behind our economic decisions and how our daily economic and financial problems are influenced. One lesson from behavioral economics is that automatic saving is the best way for people to put money away for retirement, rather than leaving it up to saving money that is left at the end of the month.

6. Almost two-thirds of American citizens in a recent survey felt concerned about healthcare costs in their retirement. However, the study showed that only 19% of millennials surveyed claimed that they were “very” concerned about healthcare costs while 41% of baby boomers made the same statement. Healthcare expenses are a difficult projection to make as health issues may increase over time and legislation regarding healthcare is often in flux.

7. Student loan debt in the US amounts to a total of $1.45 trillion with 44.2 million Americans living with student loan debt. The average graduate in 2016 has $37,172 in student loan debt which is a six percent increase from 2015. When taking out student loans, consider how federal loans often are more likely to provide loan forgiveness, deferment, or flexible repayment plans than private loans. Making manageable monthly payments is important so that you can reach them and not harm your credit score by missing payments.

Regardless of age, budgeting, investing, and retirement planning remain important practices to put in place to work toward creating a comfortable future.

Featured image credit: tax forms income business by stevepb. Public domain via Pixabay .

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Balancing compassion and self-care in a troubled world

Originating from the Latin “compatī,” (to suffer together), compassion can lead to a greater understanding of human suffering. However, the vulnerability that comes along with compassion can often lead to increased feelings of stress and anxiety. In the video below, psychologist Robert J. Wicks describes the consequences of inordinate compassion. The accompanying excerpt from Night Call discusses resiliency psychology and the importance of incorporating relaxation and reflection into our daily routines.

When nineteenth- century author Robert Louis Stevenson was a small child in rural Scotland, he lived in a hillside house just outside the local village. At night during the winter months, he would wait until evening was coming and would position himself by the window facing the village below. He would watch carefully for the arrival of the lamplighter who would walk through the village with a torch, setting light to each street lamp. Finally, when he at last caught first glimpse of him he would yell to his mother who was busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, “Look mom! There’s the per­son who pokes holes in the darkness.”

Anyone who truly seeks to be compassionate seeks to do just that: poke holes in the darkness of someone else’s experi­ence of life so they may see new light in how they view them­selves and the situation. Yet, unless we attend to our own senses of inner peace, resiliency, self- care, and maintenance of a healthy per­spective, we can’t share what we don’t have. Accordingly, taking the reflective space for silence and possibly, solitude, so we can be mindful and renew ourselves during enjoyable and challenging times is essential.

Image credit: “Sunset-Street-Lamp-Light-Warmth-Backlight-Sky” by Manolofranco. CC0 via Pixabay.

Yet the response to this need is often a dismissive one, espe­cially by busy parents or those who hold professional roles as caregivers: “I wish I had the time. With all that I must do on the job and given the needs at home, it is impossible.” Or some even respond, “Get real! Who has the freedom to take a personal retreat?”

Although such comments are understandable, they often miss the mark and are surprisingly impractical. First, denial and avoidance of the personal needs of a caregiver is a recipe for disaster. When healing and helping professionals or as caring individuals in general we avoid taking out quiet time, we set ourselves up for undisciplined activism that leads to unneces­sary burnout. In addition, without allowing time for reflection, we also run the risk of acting out certain behaviors that may be unhelpful to ourselves or others— what is often referred to by professionals as “boundary violations.”

When we feel vulnerable and overtaxed, the temptation to do inappropriate things under the aegis of “I deserve some­thing for me as well” can result in inappropriate relations with those we serve and serve with. Finally, the question all of us who care must ask ourselves is, “How practical is it to race to my grave— even if it is seemingly in the process of doing good for others?”

The minimal answer is not to merely promise to take long retreats someday (although actually taking one is cer­tainly a sensible step and not a luxury for those of us who have the room to do this). The response is, at a minimum, to take advantage of the crumbs of “alonetime” (being in solitude and reflective when within a group) that are already there in our schedules. Once we do this, then we have to decide how to spend that time. First and foremost, we can take the time simply to relax, sit comfortably but preferably up straight, focus on something in front of us, and simply breathe normally and allow the quiet time to envelop us. During this time, possibly repeatedly counting from one to four or reflecting on a word that means something to us (“gentle,” “refreshing,” “ocean,” . . . ) will help us relax and center. Thoughts will come to us and like a train, we need to let them go through our minds without either entertaining or trying to avoid them. Such times, even for a few moments, can renew and teach us much.

Secondly, we can take time out to reflect on a theme of renewal and perspective. In doing this, a “self-directed resiliency retreat” becomes something both possible and practical because it can be undertaken for a few moments in the morning, while taking a lunchtime walk, or before bedtime. During this brief time, it may provide a nest of knowledge that the “retreatant” can turn into personal wisdom by applying it to her or his own life.

Whether the few moments are taken at the office or during designated time alone at home, the following themes can eas­ily jumpstart a conversation with self or provide the material for discussing the theme with a colleague, friend, or family member.

Even helping professionals who guide others must remind ourselves that no one can or will do it for us. When we open space for reflection and personal renewal, not only will we benefit ourselves, but others who count on us to be aware and resilient will receive the reward of a quality sense of presence from us as well. Self- compassion and self- renewal go hand in hand with compassion and the renewal of others.

Featured image credit: “balance-stone-nature-meditation” by TuendeBede. CC0 via Pixabay.

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Creeds and Christian freedom

It is no exaggeration to say that, historically speaking, next to the Bible the early Christian creeds are the most important texts of Christianity. In the Latin Church, the Roman creed, which was recited at baptism, was considered so important that in Late Antiquity people claimed that it had been composed by the apostles themselves; thus it came to be called the Apostles’ Creed. Later the individual clauses of this creed were even ascribed to individual apostles (although there was considerable confusion as to which apostle had said what and the number of the clauses didn’t quite fit either). In the East, the Creed of Nicaea-Constantinople, which had been adopted at the Second Ecumenical Council at Constantinople in 381 and based on the Creed of the Council of Nicaea of 325, continues to hold pride of place in the liturgy.

Billions of Christians over the centuries have received their religious instruction on the basis of these texts, and to this day one creed or another is recited in most masses and services of the mainstream Christian churches. Hundreds, if not thousands of times, creeds have been set to music by the most distinguished composers. Church walls and manuscripts have been decorated with the apostles each holding a verse of the creed written on a scroll. Creeds have thus shaped Christian belief in a way which can hardly be overestimated.

Paradoxically, however, in many western churches today these texts are regarded with a high degree of suspicion. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries fierce controversies erupted in many European countries over the liturgical use of the creed. Today, they seem no longer worth arguing about; instead they are considered quaint relics of a distant ecclesiastical past, whose statements regarding the virgin birth and the final judgment are far removed from the rational mind of the modern believer. Creeds are recited but are little understood, and in the minds of many might as well be abolished altogether.

In the wake of the Enlightenment, Christian doctrine and its allegedly normative claims as summed up in the creeds clash with the individual believer’s wish not to be patronized by religious authorities regarding what he or she should believe.

The twelve Apostles receiving inspiration from the Holy Spirit and composing the Creed, from Somme le Roy, a moral compendium by Laurent 1295. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

This is a dilemma which the creed simply cannot escape. It has always been understood to summarize basic tenets of the Christian faith. If such summaries are per se seen as restricting religious freedom, then there is little that can be said in defence of the creeds. Yet this is not the whole story. Creeds are also an invitation to put one’s trust in God – and as such they do not impose restrictions but offer a path to religious freedom.

Let me explain. Creeds deal first and foremost with questions relating to the Trinity. They do not define Christian morality nor do they describe the Church in any detail. Even eschatology is only mentioned in the vaguest of terms (Christ’s judgement, life eternal). Instead the content of the creeds is largely made up of statements about the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Christian belief in God is not primarily belief in monotheism (as it is in Judaism and Islam), but in a God who reveals himself to the world in the persons of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. One might even argue that the creeds are primarily about Christ and his relation to the Father. Even the famous controversy about the filioque (which in 1054 contributed to the Great Schism) is not about the Holy Spirit and its work as such, but about its origin and the question of whether it proceeds from the Father alone or from the Father and the Son. Ultimately, this is a debate about the importance and significance not of the Spirit, but of the Son.

But this is not all: at the core of the creeds stands also the relation of the Son to us. This is why the creeds are not simply a set of propositions or statements which we are asked to agree to, but are always introduced with the words: ‘I/we believe.’ Christians believe in the Son as both God and man, and it is only through belief in Christ that the full significance of the Father’s creation, the preservation of his creation, and of the Church through the Holy Spirit is revealed. The creeds are  the story of God’s revelation in Christ, ‘who because of us humans and because of our salvation descended from the heavens’, which has ultimately generated the clauses of the creed. And it is our trust in the salvific significance of this revelation which is expressed in the words ‘I/we believe.’ In other words, creeds are not primarily about imposing a particular formulation of the faith which, in many respects, is indeed alien to modern believers; instead, they explain in a few words that God is offering a path to salvation that is open to all who trust in him.

The precise wording in which Christians describe this path is not set in stone. But would it make sense to alter the creeds? Probably not, as they are the common heritage of most Christians all over the world; new alterations would cause fresh divisions. But such adjustments are not necessary, because creeds are ultimately nothing more (nor less) than an invitation to place one’s trust in the God whose mercy – as shown in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection – is beyond words.

Featured image credit: Council of Nicaea 325 by Fresco in Capella Sistina, Vatican 1590. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

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Top ten reasons string teachers may want to teach guitar: staying employed

In no particular order, here are ten reasons why string teachers may want to teach guitar. This list was originally created for a presentation at a national conference for the American String Teachers Association. Many string teachers are being asked to teach guitar and most do not have any background in playing the instrument. There has been a great deal of push back by string teachers. This presentation was intended to possibly shed some light on why one may find teaching guitar more appealing.

10. Once tuned, the guitar plays in tune even in a beginner’s hands

When teaching beginning orchestra classes, string teachers are plagued with out-of-tune instruments and young students playing out-of-tune. It is not a pleasant experience being in a classroom full of beginning string students playing out-of-tune. On the other hand, guitar students play in tune from day one.

9. Teaching guitar class is similar to teaching a class of cellos

Most string teachers teach four instruments at the same time, violin, viola, cello and double bass. The guitar has an approximate musical range as the cello which is the mellowest of the four string instruments. Some string teachers are fortunate enough to teach the upper strings, violin and viola, in one class and the lower strings, cellos and basses, in another class. The lower strings at the beginning stage are a little easier to digest than the upper strings. Teaching a classroom of guitars is more like teaching the lower strings.

8. There is no rosin in the guitar classroom in order to get a sound

All orchestral string instruments eventually require learning to play with a bow. Before the bow can make a sound, the hairs of the bow must be lubricated with rosin. Rosin is usually purchased in a small box or container just large enough to be slightly wider than the hairs on a bow. Class time must be devoted to how and where to purchase rosin, how to rosin a bow, and where to store rosin so it may be found when needed next. In guitar class, there is no rosin.

7. There are no bows in guitar classes

Teaching beginners how to properly prepare and use a bow is extremely time consuming. The art of using a bow correctly sometimes takes years of study. In guitar class, there are no bows.

6. There is only one clef, treble clef in guitar class

If teaching four instruments is not hard enough, teaching a class of beginnings the art of reading music is compounded with the need to teach note reading in three different clefs. Violins read in treble clef, violas read in alto clef, and cellos and basses read in bass clef. In guitar class, all guitarsists read in one clef, treble clef.

5. There is only one kind of instrument in the room in a guitar class

It has been established that string teachers must teach four different instruments as opposed to only one if teaching guitar. When students walk into the orchestra room, there is always an interest to try playing a different instrument than the one that has been assigned. For example, a violinist may wish to try his/her hand at playing cello or bass. All of this adds confusion and a greater need for strong classroom management. In guitar class, with only one instrument, guitar students are not as likely to want to trade instruments.

4. The guitar is a melodic instrument as well as a chordal instrument

String teachers spend most of their time teaching students how to play one note at a time. For the most part, orchestral string instruments at the beginning level are intended to be played as a melodic instrument only. As string players progress after years of practice, they will discover that string instruments may also be used as a chordal instrument. Beginning guitar students may play the guitar as a melodic instrument and/or a chordal instrument in the earliest stages of studying the guitar.

3. Most string arrangements transcribe quite well for guitar ensemble

If a string teacher is teaching an intermediate string ensemble and an intermediate guitar ensemble, it is quite possible that both ensembles could be playing the same music. Orchestral arrangements for four string instruments, violin, viola, cello and bass may easily be transcribed for four independent guitar parts in a guitar ensemble. Guitar 1 plays the violin part, Guitar 2 plays the viola part, Guitar 3 plays the cello part and Guitar 4 plays the double bass part. The clefs have to be changed. The string teacher does not have to do twice the work if teaching both classes the same ensemble music.

2. By level 2 (intermediate level) it is possible to teach the same materials in guitar class as in orchestra class

While Reason 2 sounds much like Reason 3, this not only applies to ensemble music, but also applies to single string studies and method books.

1. String teachers will continue to receive a paycheck

This may absolutely be the number one reason why string teachers may want to embrace the benefits of teaching guitar. For many music educators, teaching guitar classes has proven to be a job saver. If it means being employed, why not find beneficial reasons for teaching guitar. After all, teaching guitar may turn out to be very rewarding.

Featured image credit: “Guitar” by Angela Quitoriano. CC By 2.0 via Flickr. 

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Light pollution: absent information in risk communication

Lights, lights everywhere, but what about the risks of light pollution? The world has experienced an unprecedented environmental change during the past century as the electric light has permeated our nights. In the near future, this change may accelerate because of increasing use of new illumination technologies such as LED lights.

In most parts of urbanized world the disappearance of natural darkness is easy to observe even with bare eyes. Night-time satellite pictures give a wider view on the extent of the glow of city lights and other sources of artificial light. Economic progress is accompanied by increasing emissions of light energy into the environment. However, the question is not only about the waste of energy.

Ecological and health risks related to this global environmental change have been nearly absent from public debate, apart from occasional news reporting on light pollution potentially causing breast cancer, for instance.

Not surprisingly, there are various risks related to light pollution. Ecosystems and organisms have evolved through millions of years under natural cycles of dark and light periods. Disappearance of natural night is therefore a radical change. During the recent years, a variety of harmful effects of artificial outdoor illumination have been described, in addition to well-known problems such as the inability of sea turtle hatchlings to find their way to sea or collisions of migratory birds to illuminated structures. Some of these lesser-known problems include the disturbance caused to underwater biota by lights from land and ships or the disruption of night time pollination of plants by nocturnal insects. What remains in the dark – figuratively speaking – are the long-term effects cascading through ecosystems.

San Juan Bautista in night sky by The Photographer. CC0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Risks related to light pollution pose various challenges to science communication. One problem is the genuine lack of knowledge. It’s reasonable to assume that we don’t know what we don’t know about the long-term effects of light pollution. This kind of unintentional unawareness creates space both for unjustified scares and unfounded negligence. Unintentional unawareness cannot be entirely eradicated but as our knowledge accumulates it can be partly turned to deliberate unawareness.

Another challenge is that the notion of light pollution challenges deeply rooted cultural assumptions and values emphasizing light as a symbol of safety and security, progress, wealth, and virtue. A prime example is the commonly held belief that street lighting automatically reduces crime rates or improves safety. Such positive connotations may lead to deliberate inattention regarding potential negative effects of artificial light. In fact, dimming overly-bright lights in most cases actually improves security, as sparingly used but carefully directed light means less glare and better visibility. This is especially true during bad weather conditions. Side-benefits include decreased energy consumption and less pollution from energy production. In many cases it is also possible to improve the aesthetic quality of the built environment by avoiding light clutter.

Communicating about emerging environmental issues such as light pollution is not easy. To be successful, risk communication must be able to tackle different forms and causes of absent information, compare different types of costs and benefits, and communicate the information in a right moment to the right audience. New knowledge unavoidably creates new types of uncertainties and introduces new areas of absent information. Increasing public awareness of such unknown unknowns is perhaps the greatest challenge of risk communication.

Featured image credit: San Francisco Cityscape by 12019. CC0 public domain via Pixabay.

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Crime and Punishment: From Siberia to St. Petersburg

Before the serial publication of Crime and Punishment in the prominent literary journal The Russian Messenger in 1866, the reception of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s works, and his reputation as a writer, had been somewhat mixed. The story of his career marks one of the most dramatic falls from grace in literary history. His first original work, the novel in letters Poor Folk, was lauded by critics and read avidly by an educated public eager for new voices when it appeared in 1846. But the novella The Double, published barely six weeks later, was met with blank incomprehension, ridicule, and barely veiled accusations of plagiarism. Many of his other early works, from the slight and sentimental ‘White Nights’ to the overblown gothic, psycho-sexual drama ‘The Landlady’, fared little better, and even today such texts often meet with sceptical responses.

This faltering career was abruptly interrupted in 1849 by the author’s arrest on charges of sedition — in actuality involving little more than membership of a moderately socialist philosophical discussion circle, but sufficient to warrant harsh punishment under Tsar Nicolas I’s authoritarian rule. After serving a four year sentence of hard labour in Siberia, followed by several more years in exile, Dostoevsky returned to St Petersburg at the end of the 1850s and recommenced his literary career. Initially the results were similarly mixed. Texts that are now considered highly influential – Memoirs from the House of the Dead, for its original depiction of Russia’s peasant convicts, and Notes from Underground, for its polemic with the new generation of radicals, did not enjoy the level of success the author hoped for.

Everything changed with Crime and Punishment. This was the novel that finally established Dostoevsky’s reputation in the eyes of the reading public of nineteenth century St. Petersburg and that turned him into the novelist we still read, debate, and translate today. What is it about Crime and Punishment that sparked off this transformation from intermittent success to literary giant? I think various factors within Dostoevsky’s intellectual, literary, and physical environment – past and present – came together to create one of the world’s greatest novels as well as inspiring his other works.

Tala Birell and Douglass Dumbrille in Crime and Punishment (1935): Publicity still via Columbia Pictures. Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

The first clue lies in the title: Crime and Punishment reflects a new trend among the major novelists who had established their reputations in Dostoevsky’s absence from the literary scene to base their texts around the opposition of grand themes. Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons (1862) was Russian literature’s first significant foray into the ideas of the young radicals, the so-called nihilists. Tolstoy’s War and Peace (1865-9) was already being published in serial form in The Russian Messenger when Dostoevsky began planning Crime and Punishment, and throughout 1866 the two works appeared together in the journal.

To this tension between opposing ideas Dostoevsky added a new element: the murder plot, which was in fact not part of his original plan. This contributed to the novel’s appeal in two ways. Firstly, turning it into a “why-dunnit” made it a real page-turner. Secondly, it allowed him to introduce the figure of the detective Porfiry Petrovich (who much later became the model for the TV detective Columbo). Following reforms to the Russian judiciary in the early 1860s that created detective roles for the first time, the detective genre was gaining popularity in the pulp fiction of the day. Indeed, half the characters in Crime and Punishment appear to want to be detectives, and are intent on uncovering the murderer themselves. For Dostoevsky, bringing in elements of popular and genre fiction henceforth became a fundamental part of his literary method, but arguably his first sustained attempt at this, in Crime and Punishment, was his most successful – perhaps because the murder here stays centre-stage for the whole novel.

The murder plot and decision to focus the novel so closely on the consciousness of the murderer (Dostoevsky initially planned it as a first-person narrative) undoubtedly originated in the insight the author gained into criminal minds whilst serving his sentence in the prison camp in Omsk. There, as House of the Dead makes clear, he encountered some of Russia’s most violent and depraved convicts, including men who murdered children for the sheer pleasure of it. Such horrifying characters may well have inspired some of Dostoevsky’s most memorable amoral characters, including the libertine Svidrigailov in Crime and Punishment. But his anti-hero Raskolnikov is certainly nothing like this. Cold-blooded he may be, but he is also remarkably inept, and, however much he wishes to deny it, is assailed by his conscience after the fact, which makes him curiously sympathetic.

Yet his insight into criminal psychology was not the only thing Dostoevsky took away from his prison experience and translated into Crime and Punishment. Two other factors proved key to the arguments he developed in the early 1860s against the ‘nihilists’ who wished to remake society along rational lines. The first was the understanding of the centrality of liberty to the human psyche. The convicts he observed would do anything – even harming themselves – to prove they retained their inner freedom. This insight became crucial to the narrator’s polemic against his rational opponents in Notes from Underground. In Crime and Punishment, we see the other side of the same coin, relating to the second question: what happens when that desire for freedom is unchecked. This is something that in House of the Dead is associated not with the convicts but the jailers, some of whom take a grotesque pleasure in punishing their charges – the flogging of peasant convicts was still ubiquitous, and frequently led to their deaths.

These executioners who had lost their moral compasses in pursuit of their power over others and of the ‘art’ of flogging may seem a long way from Raskolnikov’s murder for supposedly ideological ends. Yet at their heart they have the same problem: the assumption of superiority over others, the reduction of human beings to abstractions that can be dispensed with in order to achieve any goal, and a focus on ends rather than means.

Perhaps the final factor that brought everything together was the novel’s setting, around the Haymarket in St. Petersburg, where the grandeur of the imperial capital gives way to poverty, squalor, and vice. The city here is not merely a backdrop, but reflects the imposition of the will of one man, its founder Peter the Great, who famously decreed its existence and oversaw its building, which cost the lives of thousands of slaves. In Notes from Underground the narrator describes St. Petersburg as ‘the most abstract and premeditated city in the whole wide world’ – again alluding to that problem of abstraction and its potential to elevate ideas over lives. In this most ideological and willed of cities, the most ideological and willed of murders seems bound to happen.

Crime and Punishment embodies the spirit of St. Petersburg to the extent that the character of Raskolnikov seems willed into existence by the city itself. Dostoevsky’s own dramatic life and rejection of the radical ideas of his youth led him to discover this combination. It produced a novel that still speaks to us as strongly today as it did when it was first published 150 years ago.

Featured Image: “St Petersburg Russia Sunset” by LuidmilaKot. CC0 via Pixabay.

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Revisiting Broadway’s forgotten genius

Born into poverty in Richmond, Virginia, John Latouche (1914-1956) even as a youth established himself as both a rascal and a genius. After dropping out of Columbia his sophomore year (but not before scandalizing the university with his risqué lyrics to the school’s 1935 Varsity Show, Flair-Flair: The Idol of Paree), he won a coterie of devoted admirers among New York’s artistic elite for his witty and suggestive cabaret songs. In 1939, working with composer Earl Robinson, he captured the admiration of a much wider public with his cantata on American history, Ballad for Americans, popularized over the radio and in concert especially by the outstanding African-American bass Paul Robeson, but others as well, including Bing Crosby.

Latouche went on to distinguish himself as a lyricist, book writer, and librettist for the musical stage. He wrote three musicals with composer Vernon Duke, including Cabin in the Sky (1940) an all-black fable starring Ethel Waters, and Banjo Eyes (1941), a vehicle for comedian Eddie Cantor’s return to Broadway; Rhapsody (1944) and Polonaise (1945), two period operettas with European settings based on the music of Fritz Kreisler and Frédéric Chopin, respectively; Beggar’s Holiday (1946), an interracial update of John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera with Duke Ellington; two operas—Ballet Ballads (1948) and The Golden Apple (1954)—with Jerome Moross; the Faustian western, The Happy Dollar (1954), with William Friml, son of operetta composer Rudolf Friml; another musical, The Vamp (1955), for his friend, comedian Carol Channing, with music by black composer James Mundy; and the operetta Candide (1956) with Leonard Bernstein. (The latter showed less patience with the temperamental Latouche than others, and eventually hired poet Richard Wilbur in his stead, although some Latouche lyrics survived the transition; Latouche similarly exasperated Kurt Weill, who aborted their fledgling attempt at a collaboration for choreographer Ruth Page.)  Meanwhile, Latouche composed songs for two avant-garde films by the German-American director Hans Richter, and started producing his own independent shorts, including Maya Deren’s last film, The Very Eye of Night (1956). Latouche’s career ended on a high note with his libretto for Douglas Moore’s now classic opera, The Ballad of Baby Doe (1956). Exactly a month after the work’s premiere in Central City, Colorado, the lyricist died of a heart attack (“nourished,” commented his friend Gore Vidal, “by too much brandy and too many cigarettes”) in his country home in Calais, Vermont, at the age of forty-one.

As can be seen, Latouche’s musical collaborators consisted to a striking degree of sophisticated and highly skilled composers who aimed, nonetheless, for success on the popular stage, and who recognized him as a good match, at least from an artistic point of view. Duke Ellington, Vernon Duke, and Douglas Moore all referred to him as a “genius.” Bernstein called him a “whiz lyricist.” Gore Vidal, who collaborated with Latouche on movie scenarios, and who celebrated him in his historical novel The Golden Age (2000), thought him “probably the best lyricist in the history of the American musical.”

Among other virtues, Latouche had a keenly musical ear. If working side by side with composers, or setting their music to words, he knew, for instance, how to pen a phrase to neatly suit a dissonant note or an interesting modulation. But even if writing in advance of the music, his lyrics lent themselves beautifully to the sung voice. His deft command of internal and polysyllabic rhyming elicited frequent comparisons with Ira Gershwin, Lorenz Hart, and Cole Porter—although who else would have rhymed “amoeba” with “Ich liebe”?  Moreover, he could shape large poetic structures that accommodated the objectives of Robinson, Moross, Bernstein, Moore, and other composers aiming to transcend the limits of popular song form. Finally, he imaginatively sought to integrate the various arts in pursuit of a novel sort of integrated lyric theater. (Stephen Sondheim, although not much of a fan, alluded to this when he stated that Latouche had “a large vision of what musical theater could be.”) During this mid-century period, with serious opera composers writing for Broadway and songwriters embarking on dramatically ambitious work, Latouche proved a highly sought-after collaborator.

As an example of his art, a humorous number would be most representative, but Latouche had also a sensitive poetic side, as in the song “Lazy Afternoon” from Jerome Moross’s The Golden Apple, introduced on Broadway by Kaye Ballard, but later recorded by Tony Bennett, Marlene Dietrich, Barbra Streisand, and many others. Or consider the “Silver Song” from Douglas Moore’s The Ballad of Baby Doe, all the more uncharacteristic in its evocation of the Old West, but for this very reason indicative of Latouche’s versatility.  Based on a true historical saga, the opera tells the story of Horace Tabor, a blustery Colorado silver king who leaves his wife of many years for a young, blue-eyed blonde nicknamed Baby Doe; widely repudiated by society as a gold-digger and homewrecker, Baby Doe proves, especially after her husband’s tragic fall from wealth and power, deeply and inspiringly devoted to him. During their wedding reception that closes the opera’s first act, after witnessing a tense spat between her husband, violent in his defense of silver as currency as against the gold standard (a big issue in the late nineteenth century), and Washington sophisticates who realize that silver has had its day, Baby Doe defuses the situation by coming to her husband’s defense in a way that charms one and all. Here is the celebrated American soprano Beverly Sills singing this “Silver Song” in a recording featuring members of the New York City Opera, conducted by Emerson Buckley. Note among other felicities Latouche’s mellifluous use of “orb,” “adore,” “ore,” and “core” as the aria nears its end.

Baby Doe: [Please, gentlemen, please.]

Gold is a fine thing.


For those who admire it.


Gold is like the sun


But I am a child


Of the moon, and silver


Is the metal of the moon.


Secret-smiler, wrapped in wonder,


Floating in her cloudy magic,


’Tis the moon that mints her silver


In the deeps of darkened earth.


All that’s glowing, cool, and tender


Has the feel of silver in it—


Silver in an infant’s laughter


Silver on the sage’s brow


Silver in a moonlit river


Echoes the silver orb above.


I am a child of the moon


And always


Will adore her element


Dreaming as I watch it gleam.


I am mining heavenly ore—


Gold is the sun, but silver, silver


Lies hidden in the core of dreams—

Featured image: “Composer’s score for Don Giovanni” by Liza. CC BY 2.0 via Flickr.

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Invest in food security; end hunger

World Food Day is celebrated on 16th October each year, commemorating the founding of the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO). Various events take place around the world, promoting worldwide awareness and action for those who suffer from hunger, and the need to ensure food security and nutrition for everyone. Some of the statistics provided by the FAO are staggering:

Despite the world currently producing enough food to feed everyone, about 800 million people go hungry (that’s one in nine).
Hunger kills more people every year than malaria, tuberculosis, and aids combined.
The cost of malnutrition to the global economy is equal to 3.5 trillion US dollars a year.
One third of the food produced worldwide is lost or wasted.

This year’s World Food Day theme centres on migration, food security, and rural development; all three linked by increased conflict, political instability, increasing extreme weather events, and climate change. With the situation exacerbated by such diverse reasons, the research necessary to combat these is just as interdisciplinary.

Explore the interactive map below for just a small glimpse of the research being published in our journals, covering four key disciplines: life sciences, economics, social sciences, and health.

Featured image credit: Drought by daeron. CC0 public domain via Pixabay.

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100 years since the world shook [excerpt]

The fall of the Romanov dynasty may have occurred in an instant, but the wheels were set in motion long before 1917. The effects of the Russian revolution were felt far beyond the borders of Eastern Europe and changed the course of world history forever.

In this centenary year, Laura Engelstein, author of Russia in Flames: War, Revolution, Civil War, 1914-1921, takes us back to the brutal battles that took place at the beginning of the 20th century, and gives us reason as to why we need to revisit it now.

In 1913 the Romanov dynasty celebrated three centuries of rule. In August 1914, Russia went to war against Germany and Austria-Hungary. Less than three years later, in February 1917 by the old Julian calendar, the last of the Romanovs fell from power. Incapable of prosecuting the war, the monarchy had succeeded only in forfeiting the loyalty of its subjects. In February, Imperial Russian society, from top to bottom, rose up against the autocratic regime. Tsar Nicholas II was forced to abdicate, and the leaders of respectable society installed themselves in the seat of power. The workers and soldiers who had brought the monarchy to bay followed the lead of moderate socialists in establishing a political arena of their own. Aware of their tenuous claim to rule, the revolutionaries of the first hour were still saddled with the burden of the war and faced with the popular unrest, now in organized form, which had enabled their own break with the past. In October 1917, as the crisis deepened, Vladimir Lenin’s Bolshevik Party staged a coup d’état that dislodged the “bourgeois” officeholders, stole the moderates’ thunder, and inaugurated three years of civil conflict, ending in early 1921 with the consolidation of history’s first socialist government.

It took more than ten days to shake the world. The monarchy was ousted by the representatives of privileged society, backed by the fury of soldiers, peasants, and workers, whose long-term grievances had been pushed to the edge by the war. The men who assumed the reins of government were constitutional conservatives, aiming to control, not intensify, disorder, but in toppling the sovereign power they had taken a revolutionary step. From the beginning, the revolution held out the possibility of a democratic outcome, a potential dramatized by the remarkable turnout for elections to the Empire-wide Constituent Assembly, even after the Bolsheviks had taken command. The potential for civil war was also implicit in the revolution from the beginning. As the crisis deepened, a group of officers attempted unsuccessfully to seize control and prevent the Left from gaining ground, but it was the October coup that tipped the balance into armed warfare. The military and social establishment, which had supported the February Revolution in the hopes of prosecuting the war more successfully, rallied its forces against the usurpers, whom they viewed not only as political extremists but as pawns of enemy German power.

The Civil War was extraordinarily brutal, on all sides. Unfolding over a vast territory, the conflict consisted of many interlocking wars and caused immense material and human damage. Demographers have estimated total losses, military and civilian, between 1918 and 1922, out of a population of about 170 million, at over 15.5 million, or about nine percent. The total included 2.5 million victims of violence on and off the battlefields, two million victims of terror from all sides, six million who succumbed to starvation and disease, and the five million victims of famine in 1921. None of the contenders were able to control the conduct of the improvised forces they deployed; none shied away from forms of violence, such as hostage-taking, reprisals against civilians, summary executions, rape and torture, and the targeting of ethnic communities, considered at the time as violations of moral, if not also legal, norms. The Bolsheviks, in the end, were most effective in institutionalizing the violence they needed to win—and with which, in its organized form, they proceeded to build a new social order.

Insofar as the drama of 1917—and its consequences—have receded into the past, especially for citizens of the West, we need to be reminded of its importance, how unprecedented and monumental the events really were, while avoiding the old antinomies, in which Lenin is either a Hero or a Devil, in which the so-called masses are either paragons of high-minded dedication to a selfless cause or mere perpetrators of mindless violence. October 1917 was indeed a coup, which took advantage of and then deepened a genuine social revolution. It also suffocated the eloquent desire for democratic self-representation displayed by all segments of Imperial Russian society, in their different ways, throughout the revolutionary year and deep into the Civil War.

A hundred years is a long enough distance from which to question the terms in which to consider these world-shaking events.  We live at a time in which the democracy that the trans-Atlantic world has come to take for granted since the end of World War II and the defeat of fascism may be seriously endangered. The great historical moment between 1917 and 1921 in which the cost of democracy’s failure became all too apparent deserves our renewed attention.

Featured Image: Moscow, Russia (Film Scan) by Thomas Depenbusch. CC BY 2.0 via Flickr.

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