Monday, September 19, 2016

Andy's Introduction(s)

A favorite introduction of mine:
(If you don't have time to read the full excerpt, the bolded portion will give you the general impression.  If you do have time, I recommend reading through the whole thing.)

Ian Morris, Why the West Rules—For Now: The Patterns of History, and What They Reveal About the Future

Albert in Beijing

London, April 3, 1848. Queen Victoria’s head hurt.  She had been kneeling with her face pressed to the wooden pier for twenty minutes.  She was angry, frightened, and tired from fighting back tears; and now it had started raining.  The drizzle was soaking her dress, and she only hoped that no one would mistake her shivers for fear.
            Her husband was right next to her.  If she just stretched out her arm, she could rest a hand on his shoulder, or smooth his wet hair—anything to give him strength for what was coming.  If only time would stand still—or speed up.  If only she and Prince Albert were anywhere but here.
            And so they waited—Victoria, Albert, the Duke of Wellington, and half the court—on their knees in the rain.  Clearly there was a problem on the river.  The Chinese armada’s flagship was too big to put in at the East India Docks, so Governor Qiying was making his grand entry to London from a smaller armored steamer named after himself, but even the Qiying was uncomfortably large for the docks at Blackwall.  Half a dozen tugs were towing her in, with great confusion all around.  Qiying was not amused.
            Out of the corner of her eye Victoria could see the little Chinese band on the pier.  Their silk robes and funny hats had looked splendid an hour ago, but were now thoroughly bedraggled in the English rain.  Four times the band had struck up some Oriental cacophony, thinking that Qiying’s litter was about to be carried ashore, and four times had given up.  The fifth time, though, they stuck to it.  Victoria’s stomach lurched.  Qiying must be ashore at last.  It was really happening.
            And then Qiying’s envoy was right in front of them, so close that Victoria could see the stitching on his slippers.  There were little dragons, puffing smoke and flames.  It was much finer work than her own ladies-in-waiting seemed able to do.
            The envoy droned on, reading the official proclamation from Beijing.  Victoria had been told what it said: that the Grand Exemplar the Cultured Emperor Daoguang recognized the British queen’s desire to pay her respects to the imperial suzerainty; that Victoria had begged for the opportunity to offer tribute and taxes, paying the utmost obeisance and asking for commands; and that the emperor agreed to treat her realm as one of his inferior domains, and to allow the British to follow the Chinese way.
            But everyone in Britain knew what had really happened.  At first the Chinese had been welcome.  They had helped fund the war against Napoleon, who had closed the continent’s ports to them.  But since 1815 they had been selling their goods at lower and lower prices in Britain’s ports, until they put Lancashire’s cotton mills out of business.  When the British protested and raised tariffs, the Chinese burned the proud Royal Navy, killed Admiral Nelson, and sacked every town along the south coast.  For almost eight centuries England had defied all conquerors, but now Victoria’s name would go down forever in the annals of shame.  Her reign had been an orgy of murder, rapine, and kidnapping; defeat, dishonor, and death.  And here was Qiying himself, the evil architect of Emperor Daoguang’s will, come to ooze more cant and hypocrisy.
            At the appropriate moment Victoria’s translator, kneeling just behind her, gave a perfect courtier’s cough that only the queen could hear.  This was the signal: Qiying’s minion had reached the part about investing her as a subject ruler.  Victoria raised her forehead from the dock and sat up to receive the barbaric cap and robe that signified her nation’s dishonor.  She got her first good look at Qiying.  She did not expect to see such an intelligent- and vigorous-looking middle-aged fellow.  Could he really be the monster she had dreaded?  And Qiying got his first look at Victoria.  He had seen a portrait of her at her coronation, but she was even stouter and plainer than he had expected.  And young—very, very young.  She was soaked and appeared to have little splinters and bits of mud from the dock all over her face.  She did not even know how to kowtow properly.  What graceless people!
            And now came the moment of blackest horror, the unthinkable.  With deep bows, two mandarins stepped from behind Qiying and helped Albert to his feet.  Victoria knew she should make no sound or gesture—and in very truth, she was frozen to the spot, and could not have protested had she tried.
            They led Albert away.  He moved slowly, with great dignity, then stopped and looked back at Victoria.  The world was in that glance.
            Victoria swooned.  A Chinese attendant caught her before she fell to the dock; it would not do to have a queen, even a foreign devil queen, hurt herself at such a moment.  Sleepwalking now, his expression frozen and his breath coming in gasps, Albert left his adopted country.  Up the gangplank, into the luxurious locked cabin, and on to China, there to be invested as a vassal in the Forbidden City by the emperor himself.
            By the time Victoria recovered, Albert was gone.  Now, finally, great sobs racked her body.  It could take Albert half a year to get to Beijing, and the same to get back; and he might wait further months or years among those barbarians until the emperor granted him an audience.  What would she do?  How could she protect her people, alone?  How could she face this wicked Qiying, after what he had done to them?

Albert never came back.  He reached Beijing, where he astonished the court with his fluent Chinese and his knowledge of the Confucian classics.  But on his heels came news that landless farm workers had risen up and were smashing threshing machines all over southern England; and then that bloody street battles were raging in half the capitals of Europe.  A few days later the emperor received a letter from Qiying suggesting that it might be best to keep a talented prince like Albert safely out of the country.  All this violence was as much about the painful transition to modernity as about the Chinese Empire, but there was no point taking chances with such turbulent people.
            So Albert stayed in the Forbidden City.  He threw away his English suits and grew a Manchu pigtail, and with each passing year his knowledge of the Chinese classics deepened.  He grew old, alone among the pagodas, and after thirteen years in the gilded cage, he finally just gave up living.
            On the other side of the world Victoria shut herself away in underheated private rooms at Buckingham Palace  and ignored her colonial masters.  Qiying simply ran Britain without her.  Plenty of the so-called politicians would crawl on their bellies to do business with him.  There was no state funeral when Victoria died in 1901; just shrugs and wry smiles at the passing of the last relic of the age before the Chinese Empire.


In reality, of course, things didn’t happen this way.

___________________________________________________________

A rough introduction of my own:

Adam Smith has canonically been interpreted as the father of classical economics, and with good reason.  He introduced numerous conceptual innovations to the world of eighteenth century political economy, the foremost of which was his recognition of the importance of the division of labor.  He likewise displayed a consistent keenness in developing and presenting empirical insights regarding the increasingly mercantile world that surrounded him.  Nevertheless, his achievements in political economy only rose into popular prominence after his death, and in the two centuries that followed.  Posthumous commentators increasingly emphasized his economic theory as the magnum opus of his career.  As a result, his moral philosophy has conventionally been separated from and subordinated to his economics.  But recent scholarship has brought the moral philosophical side of his work back into conversation with his more popularly known economic theory.
Discussions of Smith’s theory and writings typically center on his exposition of the mechanics of commercial society.  True, he recognizes and affirms the potential of free market systems to produce unprecedented wealth and prosperity.  He sees liberty of commerce as the key to unleashing the power of markets, and thus advocates for minimal state intervention in economic affairs.  Yet, he addresses much more than the basic structures and forces of a system built on free exchange.  He also enumerates a series of necessary factors for its existence and function, and simultaneously, presents a pointed critique of commercial society.  Acknowledging the significance of this critique, and bringing neglected portions of Smith’s thought back into conversation with his canonical economic theory will allow for the construction of a more accurate and nuanced interpretation of his contributions as a whole.
            As part of this critique, Smith introduces an extensive theory of education, as well as a prescription for how educational systems should be implemented.  His attitude towards education, among other aspects of his work, demonstrates that he did not consistently advocate for state minimalism in all situations, as has often been argued.  Rather, as a result of some of the inherently destructive effects of commercial society, and the division of labor in particular, he argues for the use of state-supported education as an ameliorative and preparatory tool.  That is, for Smith, education acted both as a necessary apparatus to develop the vocational skills of the populace, but also as a mechanism that allows broad swaths of society to access and engage with ideas and culture traditionally available only to those at the pinnacle of the social hierarchy.  In his understanding, education serves as both a means and an end; it prepares workers for employment and allows citizens to pursue meaningful, fulfilling, and perhaps even intellectual lives outside of industry. 
In addition to this proposal of broad-based public education, which he intended primarily for laboring and working classes, Smith also comments on university education and educational instruction for the wealthy and elite strata of society. In particular, he wants to reconfigure remuneration structures for university teachers in order to create more effective incentives for inspired teaching at the level of higher education.  His educational theory exhibits an oft-unacknowledged willingness to allow for state intervention in addressing some of the largest social difficulties produced by commercial society.  Additionally, he sees education as a tool that enables markets and economic actors to function and interact effectively.  Finally, Smith also advocated for a kind of less-formalized moral education that would take place, at least to a certain extent, outside of the state’s purview.  Taking place within families, moral education would prepare youths to enter and exist within a commercialized civil society.  With all three of these components of education working in concert, Smith envisioned a materially prosperous, politically sound, and morally engaged commercial society.
Through the creation of a broad public system of education for all, reforms to the existing university system, and the cultivation of morality and virtue through more informal methods of education, he hoped that commercial society could be embraced without rendering undue damage to its constituent members.  His educational theories, though dispersed throughout his writings rather than concentrated in a single tract or treatise, should be viewed as a central piece of his body of work.  Without considering this portion of his thought, and how it affects interpretations of his other ideas, one cannot fully understand his work.  Through a study of this often overlooked piece of Smith’s thought, it becomes possible to recognize differences in valence and emphasis in his economic and moral theories that would otherwise be veiled and inaccessible. Smith’s thought should be understood in its full totality and nuance, and his theory of education should be viewed as a vital component of his contribution to eighteenth century thought.


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