Tribe

Over the past year, the term “tribe” has come to my attention from several different directions.

Assistant Village Idiot uses the term to describe a sort of sociological unified field theory (or perhaps only a general relativity theory) wherein tribal identity is so ingrained into human behavior and thinking that even we moderns find ourselves assuming tribal identities. Membership in modern social tribes is not so much a matter of name identification as it is the assumption of certain social/political/sub-cultural cues or signals. To see AVI’s analysis, go here.

A few months ago, Seth Godin, renowned marketing guru (on wonders if he has the word “guru” on his business card) spoke on the subject of tribes as relates to marketing. Successful marketers are people who actually leverage technology to create associations of people he calls Tribes. Whenever someone figures out how to tap into the sentiments of enough people who are thinking the same thing, but are unconnected, that person unleashes social power of some magnitude. That opportunity is greater than ever through the power of techno tools related to the internet. Tribe becomes a sort of sophisticated, fluid, self-inventing psychographic.

Along a completely different line, Tim Larkin of Target Focused Training (which deserves a post of it’s own) directed me recently to Scott Pressfield’s analysis of the War in Afghanistan. Unlike the other two, Scott is not redefining the term Tribe here, but is using it in the classic sense. He uses the classic concept of tribe and tribalism to help us re-frame the way we view the conflict in Afghanistan. It’s all about the tribes. His analysis contrasting the meaning of being a citizen of a nation, as opposed to a member of a tribe is outstanding. I hope that our commanding officer’s responsible for the conflict in Afghanistan can grasp this concept. Our leaders must recognize that asymmetrical warfare has already become the dominant model around the world and we are just playing catch up.

You can see all the video's in Pressfield's analysis of War in Afghanistan here.

It’s just fascinating to see how one word can be used to clothe such different types of ideas.

Abusus non Tollit Usum

You may have noticed that I have a fondness for Latin. I studied Latin for three years in high school, although to be truthful, I must admit that the word "studied" should be interpreted in the broadest manner possible. In spite of all that time staring at the language of scholars, I am generally lost when it comes to translating or reading a great deal of Latin writing. I can make a reasonable educated guess at most short phrases, but to say I’m usually in the ballpark may be overstating it a bit. After all, a foul ball that lands on the roof over the sky boxes is technically “in the ballpark” but still counts as a strike.

Nevertheless, I can’t escape the feeling that using Latin words and phrases is really cool. I know. It’s pretentious, really. It’s an affectation, a pompous conceit. I guess we all have our vices. At least mine has not been shown to cause cancer in lab rats. Yet.

I especially love to peruse Latin mottos. I’m looking for one to adopt as my own, that I would place on my own family crest if I had one. But none have struck me so forcefully as to impress itself on me as THE MOTTO. There are so many really good ones. Here are some of my favorites so far.

Dictum Factum
Said and Done

Fortitudine vincimus
By endurance we conquer

Fortiter in re, suaviter in modo
Resolutely in action, gently in manner.

Excelsior
Ever upward.

Esto quo audes.
Be what you dare

Nec hostium timete, nec amicum reusate.
Fear no enemy, deny no friend.

Vincit, qui se vincit.
He conquers who conquers himself

In libris libertas.
In books (there is) freedom.

Otium sine litteris mors est.
Leisure without literature is death.

Vive ut vivas.
Live that you may live

Nil desperandum.
Never despair.

Fortis et liber.
Strong and free.

Esse quam videre.
To be rather than to seem.

Fortes acquirit eundo.
It gathers strength as it goes.

Fluctuat nec mergitur.
It is tossed by waves but doesn't sink.

Semper fidelis.
Always faithful.

Nil sine numine.
Nothing without providence.

Sic semper tyrannis.
Thus ever to tyrants.

Montani semper liberi.
Mountaineers are always free.

The Francophone Boys

Tonite I had the chance to just hang out for a few hours. I chose to go to a bookstore and read. I selected one book, not a serious book, but a novel that I knew I would enjoy, I chose a seat and just gave myself over to the story for a few hours. I knew that I would not be able to complete the book in the time I had, but I’ve never really been that bothered by coming and going in the middle of stories. This is something I think I’ve cultivated watching TV. I can come in at the middle of a movie I know little or nothing about, and quickly pick up what’s going on and watch it to the end. I have more trouble, if the story is any good, leaving it in the middle, but I can do it.

The best part of the evening, though, was not the book. Near me sat 5 old guys, mostly in their late 50’s to 60’s, white haired, balding, wrinkly, fat and skinny, conversing most amiably…in French. I would guess by their ages, and their comfort with the language that these were not students just finding their way through the gallic conjugations. My guess is that they probably grew up speaking French, and this was a chance to simply get together with a bunch of other guys from the “old neighborhood” and talk like the old days. It’s not altogether uncommon around here. My mother grew up speaking French exclusively until about age 8. She can still recall the nuns in Catholic schools in Manchester teaching in French. After she moved out of Manchester (arguably the center of francophone New Hampshire) she lost her French language very quickly. Apparently, not everyone left it behind as completely as my mother.

I myself know very little French language, but know they talked a little politics (this is New Hampshire after all), a little about the movie Papillon, and just about general guy stuff – as if it was a barber shop in Montreal. It was a beautiful just to be around the spirit of their gathering. It made me want to speak French just to be half as cool as they were.

Primary Sources

There is a great temptation in this day and age to take one’s reading filtered. Scholars, pundits, commentators, journalists, and writers of all kinds generate streams of words that trickle out of the sumps and springs of our culture, run down the sides of our societal landscape and into the vast oceans of words and ideas that form our collective consciousness. Some of what is written is quite useful, good, truthful, and a portion of it even qualifies as beautiful. Much of it is about other words, other writings, other comments, other stories. We write and we write about writing, and we write about writing about writing.

Case in point – you are reading some of it right now.

Unlike drinking water, however, filtered reading is not purer or even tastier. Filtered water may seem more palatable and feels safer. None of that nasty giardia lamblia, or cryptosporidium to worry about. But in the process of filtering much is lost and something is typically added. When hiking the Appalachian Trail I carried a large and expensive water filter to purify my water. It was heavy, but I preferred it to dropping musty tasting chemicals into my water. But even this filter would add traces of iodine to my filtered water.

There were times, especially in the southern states, where I was extremely glad to have a quality filter. The water sources were sluggish and sometimes stagnant. Muddy water was more common than clean water. In these cases, the filter was a godsend. But as I moved further north I found more and more springs and high altitude streams to drink from. Especially once into the New England states I began to simply not use my filter at all. If I’m standing in a place that is already higher than 90% of the population of humans OR animals, and the stream originates from someplace higher still, and if it is quick running over rocks and rills, I figure that drinking it is pretty safe. I might still filter if the source is near human or animal habitation, either wild or domestic. I might still filter if that water source is slow moving or stagnant. But more and more I found it to be safe and rewarding to drink directly from the source – the pure unadulterated water spurting from the heart of the earth herself.

I think this says a great deal about our reading. There is a generally recognized canon of “Great Books.” The list may vary in length and selection depending on who makes it. Most of these lists are oriented toward Western thinkers and those works foundational to western civilization. Some go broader to include Oriental works as well. It is not that these books are held to be true in all their ideas. They are considered great because they contain powerful ideas, powerfully expressed – so much so that in many cases the ideas contained in them have changed the world.

I have read much about these books. I have actually read very little of the books themselves. As I mentioned before, it takes work. First you have to find them. They are not always down in the valleys, along the highways where they are easily accessible. In fact, much of what you find in along the roads must be filtered. The purer better reading requires climbing and effort and sweat to attain. One has to be in a certain mental condition to get to where one can drink from those wells.

But, if my metaphor holds true, it is totally worth it. The experience of drinking directly from a mountain stream, plunging your face into the frigid water and sucking deep draughts of cold liquid diamond is elemental and altogether delicious. There is no better tasting water in the world. I suppose a scientist could argue, stating that the mineral content is not appreciably different or better than tap water, and that the risk of contamination is higher, but it’s not about minerals. It’s about the spirit of the water, I think.

I suspect the same may be true of the great books. There is something valuable in the work, in the spirit of the original work, the primary source. It is colder, fresher and cleaner, even though the language may be archaic and strange to the ears. The ideas are direct, unfiltered and bear with them a raw energy not present in commentaries and criticisms. Not that we should not read writing about writing. I suspect, however, that I would do well to drink more from mountain streams than I do, and I would do well to read more of the primary sources than I do.

We cannot afford to be lazy in anything we do. We can least afford it when it comes to our hearts and our minds.

The Poetry of Insult

I love a good insult.

There are few forms of wit that can match the well formed slur. Verbal abuse, properly executed, is one of the highest forms of expression. A well formed smear is poetry nonpareil. Although I believe that this highest of literary forms has been largely ignored, imagine my delight to discover that there is actually a journal dedicated to “verbal aggression.” It is appropriately named Maledicta. Isn’t that precious? I would warn you before visiting that site, it is replete with "strong language" and is not for the faint of heart or those with delicate sensibilities.

Now it’s not that I personlly like to practice insulting people. Those who know me know that I generally speak with respectful care and precision. Yet the man who enjoys collecting stamps may not be a particularly good correspondent. He just appreciates the stamps.

When it comes to insults, the lazy and inarticulate can of course now rely on technology to produce their insults. It is easy to find websites that will manufacture cheap mass produced insults. These are humorous in their way, but they lack the nuance and appeal of real “handmade” insults. The true aficionado of slurs can always appreciate the efforts of the clumsy amateur as at least possessing a lively authenticity that the machine made insult lacks. After all, it must be said that the most important ingredient in artful rudeness is soul.

It is important as well not to mistake mere verbal excess for wit. If your idea of a powerful insult is that it must have at least 12 words with 4 syllables or more, then you are missing the point. If your subject (or your audience) has to spend more time figuring out what you just said than it took you to say it, you have failed to be effectively insulting.

I also must say that while profanity may be used with most excellent effect, it’s overuse renders insulting language dull, in the same way that too much spice can ruin a dish. The clumsy insulteur simply piles curse words on top of another without regard to meter, logic or any sort of rhetorical or poetic device. One can use profanity in abundance, in the same way that Indian cooking uses spice with an especially unapologetic boldness. But even Indian cuisine pays attention to the balancing of flavors and textures. The more dense the profanity, the higher must be that art to lift it above the gutter. When it works, it is sublime. When it does not, it’s just ugly.

Classical insults fall into one of several general categories

Appearance – physical appearance, mode of dress, race and or gender
Heritage -- national derivation, family, social class, or citizenship
Personality-- intelligence, skill, education, morals, behavior.

They may be executed thus

The direct attack – the upfront, no-holds down verbal assault. Ideally it is both clever and shocking, but either can suffice, depending on your goal.

That’s nice tie. Does it come in silk?
You are the only case where the baby died and the afterbirth lived.
It’s amazing that such a big head can hold such a small mind.
When you are dead, I will have your skin tanned and made into a saddle so I can spend the rest of my life farting on you. (from "Lords of the North" by Bernard Cornwell)

The riposte – The quick and unexpected turning of someone’s attempt at wit back on themselves. This is a glorious thing to behold.

Mr. Churchill, I perceive that you are drunk.
Yes milady I am, but tomorrow I shall be sober, while you shall still be ugly.


The veiled strike – accomplished to the face, but in such a way that the insulted is not aware that he has just been dissed. Sometimes this amounts to carefully covered sarcasm. Since it is very situational, it’s hard to provide good examples here.

A true insult is always given face to face. Otherwise it is merely gossip, which require neither art nor nerve.

Insults do not require anger or hatred. In fact, many of the finest insults are between the best of friends, who show their affection for one another by the trading of effrontery. If not affectionate, then many find the trading of insults to be very entertaining, as in the African American tradition called The Dozens.

We have not even touched on Shakespeare's insults, or applications of insulting speech in a variety of social situations. It really doesn't matter, I suppose. If you don't like it that's too bad. Your just bitter because your parents wanted a boy.