The Truth about Reading

I don’t always learn some profound thing when I read. Sometimes I don’t learn anything at all. Even if I’m reading from the most insightful book on the planet written by the most intelligent author ever, there are days I just can’t absorb anything useful. Although I always try to learn something from my daily excerpt, I can’t say that I’m always successful.

Some days all I see are strings of words; other times those words go in one ear and out the other. Occasionally, I get stuck on one paragraph and end up unintentionally rereading it for an hour. On these days it seems as if the fountain of knowledge bounces off my brain like liquid on a newly waxed car, rejected by the slick surface. That’s the problem with the human mind; it’s not always consistent, has trouble focusing at times, and struggles to understand concepts. Or maybe that’s just me.

There are, however, days when the words and concepts I read pour into my brain with ease, and the author’s intentions appear clear as day. The stories and ideas he presents swirl around in my head and transfer themselves gracefully onto my page. My brain gratefully absorbs the enlightening material like a sponge thirsty for water, wanting more knowledge. Thankfully, I am more prone to these days than I am to the other ones.

This is the truth about reading. If your brain is anything like mine, it can readily absorb or stubbornly reject. In the case of the latter, don’t panic- your brain isn’t dissolving into liquid goo. Just take a break. Come back later, and you’ll find that your brain will be more receptive to reading and comprehending.

Can the government alter itself?

Or, more specifically, does it have the right to? Paine tackles this topic whilst discussing decisions made by the government of France long ago. The argument against this right was given as such:

1. If the practice was permitted once, it would need to be permitted in the future, turning into a principle and a precedent for any future arguments.
2. This freedom for the government to change itself could lead to instability and internal issues, offsetting the balance of power.
3. The right to alter the government was cited as a national right, not a government right; something that can change itself can give itself more control than it should.

In the end, it was decided that the old French government did not have the power to change itself. The current U.S. government, however, has created a way to sidestep this problem: our three-part government. The powers given to the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial branches are held together by our checks and balances system. This method makes sure that the power is evenly distributed and doesn’t reside in only one branch.

How to make 44 the majority of 140

As I wade through the politically-centered bog that is Rights of Man, I pick up on a small detail that really sheds light on the deception in the French government at the time. In one paragraph, Paine tucks away the intellect and subterfuge of a political leader- a man he calls “M. Calonne.”

M. Calonne, a notable French statesman, was a proponent of reform in the government of France. He wanted money, but knew that Parliament had a firm stance on new taxes. He devised a plan to ensure his success: in 1787, he handpicked the Assembly of Notables, a group of around 140 high-ranking nobles who served as consultants to the King of France. He would present his increased taxation plan to them, and if it won a majority vote, they would recommend it to the king.

Knowing he couldn’t depend on 71 votes in his favor, he arranged the Assembly of Notables so that he was bound to succeed: M. Calonne divided the 140 assemblymen into 7 “committees.” Each question was decided by the majority: therefore each group of 20 needed only 11 votes to decide the committee vote, and the whole assembly needed 4 out of 7 committee votes to decide the final vote. In the end, only 44 out of the total 140 assemblymen needed to vote in favor of M. Calonne for his tax plan to be recommended to the king.

His plan was ingenious- shady and underhanded, yes, but shrewd nonetheless. Even though it failed in the end, M. Calonne’s subterfuge shows the manipulation that government officials can (sometimes) get away with and the lack of balanced power in the old government of France.

Church and State

One of the common phrases in Edmund Burke’s book is “Church and State.” He doesn’t mean one specific church or state, but instead used it as a general term to describe the political doctrine of “always uniting the church and state in every country.” He favors this doctrine, even shaming France for not doing so.

Thomas Paine, on the other hand, isn’t a fan of this political doctrine. He has a few words to say regarding this idea: by combining the church and state, a hybrid animal is created, called “the Church established by Law.” This beast is only capable of destroying, not building up; it is a stranger to its forefathers, eventually overtaking them and replacing them completely. All of the issues surrounding religion and politics stem from this creature, this law-religion that causes persecution and dissent. It is not the religion itself or its practices that sparks this hatred; remove the law from the church and it regains its original benignity.

This merge of church and state brings ill effects on the prosperity of any such nation. Fortunately, many governments have witnessed the folly of the “church and state” doctrine in other countries, preventing them from falling to the same fate. Paine concludes his monologue by warning similar governments about the dangers of “the Church established by Law,” advising them to avoid the treacherous doctrine.

Aristocracy: the Diss Track

For his newest release, Paine leaves behind his favorite roasts and disparages the old-fashioned government using logical and historical evidence from the French government pre-revolution. Here I’ve disassembled and condensed his 6-point issue with aristocracy for the common reader to understand.

(intro, v. 1 + 2) Generally, aristocracy is a form of government in which power is held by the nobility. This gives way to his first issue: aristocracy is upheld through family tyranny and injustice. This resides in the very core of the aristocrats, who experience this tyranny and injustice at a rather young age. Therefore their ideas of justice are corrupted from the very start, leaving the nobles unfit to legislate for a nation- the second issue.

(chorus, v. 3 + 4) The third problem with the aristocratic rule is its hereditary nature. Paine says the the idea of hereditary legislators is as absurd as hereditary judges or mathematicians, and as ridiculous as a hereditary wise man or a poet laureate. In the same vein, his fourth reason states that a body of men, holding themselves accountable to nobody, ought not to be trusted by anybody.

(outro, v. 5+6) Aristocracy, in its very nature, upholds the principle of governments founded in conquest, as well as man governing man as his own property. This fifth issue is why this type of government has the tendency to deteriorate the human species, by separating them from the majority and pitting them against themselves.

Paine’s thorough dismantling of the aristocratic rule leaves no stone unturned in the rock pile of governmental issues. He remains the pro of late 18th/early 19th century defamation.

Title(s)

Men are drawn to titles like moths to a flame. They seek after them, undermining their fellows, just to get ahead, to improve upon their current rank. Men pursue those elusive designations as if their lives depended on it. And in some ways, they do.

What do titles hold that causes men to so easily lose sight of their morals? For some, power, influence, and strength; for others, shame, scorn, and despair. Something as simple as a form of address can designate how you are treated and how far you can get in life.

They are able to bestow upon us something that little else can: status. Your rank in the social standing can either secure or demolish your future. A good title can propel you to new heights; a tarnished one can prevent your feet from ever leaving the ground.

In the eyes of the world, your worth can be evaluated by the abbreviations before your name or the titles on your résumé. This discriminatory view may seem like a thing of the past, a time with kings and paupers, but I assure you that this idea still runs rampant in our time. It courses through the veins of our politics and institutions, the driving force behind the ambitions of men.

Yet little by little, this view is being chipped away at. Slowly and painstakingly, we are making progress. The realization that titles aren’t all there is to live for has surfaced in the minds of many. Maybe, eventually, we will set aside those titles we all hold on to so dearly and remove the boundaries that inhibit our growth.

One day, perhaps, the titles of men will be no more than vapors of the past, antiquated nouns of the English language.

On Wars and Taxes

Thomas Paine tends to dive head-first into controversial topics. He heads straight for the heart of the issue, bypassing the fluff and formalities that serve to ease the offense caused by such harsh matters.

For this reason, I wasn’t too surprised when he blatantly accused the officials of the quondam English government of using warfare to further their own financial interests. Paine wrote, in summary, that these wars were beneficial only to those in charge of public money. War was declared, not for the benefit of the people or the country, but to increase revenue at the peoples’ expense. Conflict gave the government a pretense to raise taxes, presumably to assist the battles, but instead funneled the excess income into their own coin purses.

War is “the art of conquering at home,” an art form that many governments in many different countries have mastered. “Taxes were not raised to carry on wars,” Paine concludes, “but wars were raised to carry on taxes.”