God And Man At Yale (William F. Buckley Jr.

And so begins my journey through the "foundational" documents of modern conservatism-- at least as I've come to understand them. This is going to be more of a popular survey than anything formal. Although I may go all the way back to Burke at some point, what I currently have on my shelf is Buckley, Sowell, Neuhaus, and more Hayek than I know what to do with.
But it starts with Buckley's first book, which apparently started to jostle conservatism out of its '40s funk, at least in the public imagination.

I purchased this in March 2009, in one of the most bizarre Amazon orders I've ever made: this, Dostoevsky, "I Got Rhythm" sheet music, "Astral Weeks", and the movie "The Fall". It was a strange time in my life.

This particular purchase was probably driven by the fact that I had just gotten the Buckley anthology, in turn driven by my reading of National Review that year, in turn driven by his death that spring, attention to which was paid due to depressing search for something to do with my life. And now it's time to get going.

(Unrelatedly, I'm typing this post on my phone. First time I've done that, but I'm hoping a new set of surroundings and habits will lift me out of a current rut. And that's my copy of the book.)

Common Sense (January 10, 1776) (Redux)

Belongs here.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Declaration Of The Second Continental Congress (July 6, 1775)

John Hancock.  In the beginning, our ancestors moved to America seeking to establish a new life for themselves, securing in the most radical way possible their own liberty.  The system worked for a long, long time, to the enormous benefit of those on both sides of the ocean.  And the benefit was never more obvious than during the recent French and Indian War, when the contributions of the colonists won the day for the Empire.  But since that moment, and the transfer of power to the new regime, we have struggled beneath a more and more oppressive yoke.

Long list of grievances:

• Monetary manipulation
• Foreign courts and deprivation of trial by jury
• Suspending local governments
• Restrictive trade rules
• Encouraging an enemy state in Canada [heh]
• Worst of all, for passing a a statue giving parliament the right to "make laws to bind us in all cases whatsoever," an unlimited assertion of power that cannot stand.

Our petitions have gone unheeded byt he Crown.  When we resisted, the Empire responded with military coercion and force.  The aggression has come to a head at the recent battles at Lexington and Concord, where the British soldiers were ultimately "compelled to retreat by the country people suddenly assembled to repel this cruel aggression." [Hells yeah]

Confiscation of arms and the establishment of martial law in Boston hasn't helped matters.

Our choice is stark: slavery, or resistance by force.

Our cause is just.  Our union is perfect.  Our internal resources are great, and, if necessary, foreign assistance is undoubtably attainable.  We gratefully acknowledge, as signal instances of the Divine favour towards us, that his Providence would not permit us to be called into this severe controversy, until we were grown up to our present streangth, had been previously exercised in warlike operation, and possessed of the means of defending ourselves.  With hearts fortified with these animating reflections, we most solemnly, before God and the world, declare, that exerting the utmost energy of those powers, which our beneficent Creator hath graciously bestowed upon us, the arms we have been compelled by our enemies to assume, we will, in defiance of every hazard, with unabating firmness and perseverence, employ for the preservation of our liberties; being with one mind resolved to die freemen rather than to live slaves.

Note: we still pledge our allegiance to the Crown, if the current difficulty can be overcome.  We only fight for our rights as free men.

Give Me Liberty Or Give Me Death (March 23, 1775)

Patrick Henry.  Basically a response to the members of the Virginia Convention who urged restraint, patience, and prudence in dealing with the English.  Henry claimed that the English continually offered platitudes of concession while strenghening their grip on the colonies more and more.  Worse, this pattern had continued for ten years now, with no end in sight.  Worse yet, it was now obvious that the English were preparing militarily to put a stop to any colonial uprising once and for all.  With any delay, English subjugation of the colonies would be permanent.

Essentially, Patrick Henry is the hawk to end all hawks, and he's had it with the doves.

Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace.  The war is actually begun!  The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!  Our brethren are already in the field!  Why stand we here idle?  What is it that gentlemen wish?  What would they have?  Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?  Forbid it, Almighty God!  I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

 Of course, he had practiced that line before.

Speech On The Stamp Act (January 14, 1766)

A rebuttal against the imposition of the Stamp Act on the American colonies, by member of Parliament William Pitt.  I'm reading it out of order with the others because this jerk from Georgia Tech told me it happened in 1775.

Standard boilerplate arguments at this point, focusing on the injustice of imposing taxes on colonial subjects without representation, and on the economic benefits of the trade relationship on its own.

I'd skip over it completely, except this passage is amazing:

I maintain, that the parliament has a right to bind, to restrain America.  Our legislative power over the colonies is sovereign and supreme.  when it ceases to be sovereign and supreme, I would advise every gentleman to seel his lands, if he can, and embark for that country.  When two countries are connected together, like England and her colonies, without being incorporated, the one must necessarily govern; the greater must rule the less; but so rule it, as not to contradict the fundamental principles that are common to both.  If the gentleman does not understand the difference between external and internal taxes, I cannot help it; but there is a plain distinction between taxes levied for the purpose of raising a revenue, and duties imposed for the regulation of trade, for the accomodation of the subject; although, in the consequences, some revenue might incidentally arise from the latter.

It's confusing because his audience already knows what he's talking about, and I can't tell the difference between the internal and external taxes, and the difference between the revenue tax and the regulation tax, and which one he's supporting.  But he seems to be saying that Parliament's power to regulate commerce in the colonies is unlimited, while its power to tax is restricted by constitutional restraints.  And he's encouraging Parliament, if they must get there hands dirty in the affairs of the Americans, to do it through the legitimate regulation channels instead of the illegitimate taxation channels.

My mind is reeling.

The takeaway is that power will find whatever justification is at hand for the aggrandizement of that power.  And those of us who think there are rules by which we can trust to avoid imposed mandates from our political representatives are mistaken.  The game is rigged.  There's always room for more.

Declaration Of The First Continental Congress (October 1774)

This is a legal document, which makes it a pain in the ass to read.  Essentially a listing of grievances and violations of rights, with a promise to return to peaceful and happy relations if the situation is rectified.  Perhaps most important, it reiterates the need for all Legislative power within the colonies to reside within the colonies-- as once again, true represenation in Parliament is currently lacking and impossible anyway.  The Crown would have the authority to dictate some international economic agreements, but that's it.  Independence is on its way.

Many of the complaints worked their way into the Bill of Rights-- specifically, the quartering of soldiers, the right to a fair and local trial by jury, and the right to peaceably assemble and petition for the redress of grievances.  Most complaints are referred to specific Acts of Parliament that must be redressed.

There were three acts specifically levied against the "province of Massachusetts-bay".  No wonder they moved the whole thing to Philadelphia.

And again, one of the complaints was the establishment of the "Roman Catholic Religion in the province of Quebec, abolishing the equitable system of English laws, and erecting a tyranny there, to the great danger, from so great a dissimilarity of Religion, law, and government, of the neighboring British colonies by the assistance of whose blood and treasure the said country was conquered from France."  Did we give Quebec back to France after the war as a consolation prize?  And c'mon, guys, we mean you no harm.  Simmer down.

The Rights Of The Colonists (November 20, 1772)

Ben Franklin, summarizing the current state of the colonies, as an introduction to the resolution for the English public at large:

The colonists have grown accustomed to being left alone, and so appreciated the flexible arrangement with the English Crown that they had adopted many English customs and adapted to many English requests.  The Stamp Act, however, ruined the comity, and the colonists responded with a general boycott.  The repeal of the Stamp Act, save for the tax on tea, was met with the end of the boycott, save on tea-- and even that was expected to be resolved soon.

The imposition of the English bureaucracy in establishing this one rule, however, grew so intrusive that more forceful responses were required.  An enormous black market developed whereby French and Dutch tea is drunk nearly exclusively in the colonies.  The loss of benefits to the Crown are enormous-- and for what?  Simply selling English tea to the colonists ought to be beneficial enough, and yet they are put upon to the breaking point.

This nation, and the other nations of Europe, may thereby learn, with more certainty, the grounds of a dissension that possibly may, sooner or later, have consequences interesting to them all.

Sam Adams:

The rights of the colonists begin with the natural rights of all men, as expressed (nearly word for word-- including the phrase "life, liberty, and property") by John Locke.  Civil society is a ceding of some of these natural rights-- with the consent of the governed-- to a civil authority.  And as long as men aren't complled to remain in the society against their will, this is all fine.

One of the most important natural rights that must in all cases be protected by civil society is the right to freely worship as one sees fit.  (Except in the case of the Papists, of course.  The problem there, apparently, is that when the religious authority excommunicated a political leader from the Church, it also forced his removal from civil office.  This cannot stand.  [I agree.])

The civil leaders work for the people.  They are very much like employees.  So the greatest injustice is done when one of these leaders aggrandizes himself financially or by usurping additional power, and thereby establishes tyranny.  He would do this thinking is has some special ability to exert civil authority that the entire remainder of the public lacks.  He is mistaken-- many, many others could do the job well.  There is no shortage of decent representatives.

This grand agreement has been codified in the Magna Charta for centuries.

In the case of the American colonies, they of course possess all the natural rights of man.  And this includes the right to establish for their own society a Legislative power-- including the restriction that the Legislature "has no right to absolute, arbitrary power over the lives and fortunes of the people."

Given all this, the British House of Commons can have no legitimate authority over the colonists.  First, the colonists are not currently represented there.  And second, it is impossible that they could be properly represented there.  The population is too large for the tiny representation the House would be willing to allow.  Moreover, "[h]ad the Colonists a right to return members to the British Parliament, it would only be hurtful; as, from their local situation and circumstances, it is impossible they should ever be truly and properly represented there."  The situation, then, is ripe for abuse, and treachery.  "The Colonists have been branded with the odious names of traitors and rebels only for complaining of their grievances.  How long such treatement will or ought to be borne, is submitted."

-----------------------


The Revolution is already baked into the cake.  There is no getting around it.

The English bureaucracy charged with enforcing the Stamp Act/Tea Act are the SEC and EPA rolled into one.

It is still true that the Legislature "has no right to absolute, arbitrary power over the lives and fortunes of the people."  But it apparently has the power to tax to its heart's content, so long as it remains representative.  Sigh.

The word Papists makes me giggle every time I see it.

Resolutions Of The Stamp Act Congress (October 19, 1765)

No taxation without representation!

-------------------------

The language is exceedingly polite, and the entire argument is delivered explicitly from their recognized status as subjects of the British Crown.  C'mon guys, flip the king the bird!

The seeds of independence are already sown, however, as they hint that representation in Parliament is nigh impossible.

That the people of these colonies are not, and from their local circumstances cannot be, represented in the House of Commons in Great Britain.

Even this early, all of the arguments are couched in terms of securing the "rights and liberties" to which they are entitled.  Idle thought: have we gone astray by bleating about freedom all the time instead of liberty?  "Freedom" has the connotation, for me at least, of a bird in flight, entirely unbound.  This is the image attached to FDR's invocation of positive rights: freedom from "the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment."  "Liberty", on the other hand, connotes self-direction, but makes no promises against the entirely natural slings and arrows of life.  "Pursuit of happiness" indeed.  These guys were good.

I like the argument that the Crown was already profiting enormously from their trade with the colonists, and that any taxation on that commerce would only lessen the benefits already enjoyed.  The Laffer curve lives!

The Peloponnesian War (Thucydides)

I added this to my reading list when I first decided to make this a universal human knowledge project, and not simply a human literature project.  Philosophy selections will be thrown in for the same reason.

It's also important for me to read this because I want to better understand Picture This by Joseph Heller when I finally get back to it.  That book was amazing, and it would probably be even more amazing if I knew exactly what went on between the Athenians and the Spartans.

Thucydides was also prominently mentioned in the discussions of Grand Strategies: Literature, Statecraft, and World Order by Charles Hill, interviewed on several of my favorite podcasts last year.  It seemed a worthwhile commentary on the things I've been reading, and the Peloponnesian War is the basis of the rest of the historical comparisons in that book.

I purchased my copy at the same time I purchased Hill's book in early 2011-- at the time, I thought it was a pressing purchase.  I chose the translation by Steven Lattimore, son of Richmond Lattimore, who I used for Homer.

But I was so impressed with the Landmark Herodotus, that I've also borrowed the Landmark Thucydides from the Mount Prospect Library.  If nothing else, it's maps should be helpful as I orient my mental space toward the battle action.  And I started by reading its appendices, which give a nice background to the political and cultural, and military life in which Thucidydes lived and wrote and in which the war was fought.

I don't know if I'll be keeping detailed notes or if it will follow the patterns of the Herodotus.  I've got a little more time to finish this, so we shall see.

Sophocles. Done.

And it only took just under a year.  This whole thing is going to take much longer than I thought if I don't get a move on.

I'll be doing some re-reads of some of the non-Thebian Sophocles from a collection of Roche translations I picked up-- just once through to get the flavor of the plays from language I've come to appreciate.

But in the meantime, I need a break from Greek tragedy.  So on to the Peloponnesian War!

Oedipus At Colonus, 4

A storm rises, and Oedipus recognizes that the end of his life is at hand.  He calls for Theseus to fulfill one last task.  The Chorus is terrified that the wrath of the gods might befall them at last.

Instead, Oedipus grants protection to Theseus and his city if his instructions are carried out.  Theseus must follow Oedipus to his final resting place, but keep its location a secret.  They leave with Antigone and Ismene for the final journey, with Oedipus leading the way.

The Chorus sing a song of requiem, and of praise to Hades and Persephone, gods of the underworld.

A messenger arrives to describe the final actions.  They walked to the very entrance of the underworld itself.  Oedipus said his final goodbyes and granted his daughters to the protection of the city of Colonus.  Then the gods called him home, a final step witnessed only by Theseus.  It was a peaceful passing.

The girls arrive, devastated.  Antigone, especially, does not wish to go on with her life, and wishes instead to follow her father to death itself.  Ismene reminds her that it is impossible.  Theseus will not budge and will keep the secret as instructed.  Antigone resolves, then, to return to Thebes and do what she can to protect her brothers, an act of Love that flows from her father's own love for her.

-------------------------

Oedipus has said what needed to be said in his life, and goes truly at peace.  So it is with Sophocles.

Oedipus At Colonus, 3

Oedipus clamors for the protection of Theseus, who denounces Creon for flouting the laws and customs of the city he has entered.  Creon throws it back at him, denouncing Theseus for harboring such an awful, twisted man as Oedipus-- simultaneously gladhanding Theseus for his city's stellar reputation, now at risk.  Oedipus can't take it, and once again protests his innocence.  He cannot be guilty of wrongdoing if all the events were fated, if he was unaware that it was his father who he killed and his mother who he married, and if anyone in his position, knowing what he knew, would have been justified in doing the same.  Theseus sends Creon away, along with a party to retrieve Antigone and Ismene, and threatens Creon with further reprisal if he interferes, or if his co-conspirators don't cooperate.

The Chorus describe the hunt in song, praising the gods of Athens who aid the effort.

The girls are returned to their father, and Oedipus praises Theseus again, almost embarrassed at his devotion.  Theseus tells him he is welcome again, then leaves to take care of urgent but mysterious business.  A stranger from Thebes has arrived to speak with Oedipus, who recognizes immediately that his son is here to draw him back to the family conflict, again in fulfillment of the prophecy.  He greatly desires not to have that conversation, but Antigone convinces him to give his estranged son another chance.

Polynieces enters, bemoaning his father's reduced state.  But down to business.  Polynieces was driven from the city by his younger brother Eteocles.  He then raised an army to take the city back.  He is asking Oedipus to join him to ensure that justice-- the rights of the older brother-- may be established.  Oedipus finally gets to respond to his son, an opportunity he has been waiting for for many years, and he takes full advantage [and it's awesome]:

You trustees of this realm,   since Theseus sent him here
  and asked me to reply, I will.
Nothing less would let him hear my voice.
But now he shall be graced with it
  in accents that will bring him little joy.

Liar!
When you held hte scepter and the throne
  which your brother at the moment holds in Thebes,
  you drove me out,
  drove this your father out,
  displaced me from my city.
You are the reason for these rage--
  rages that make you cry to see,
  now that you have reached rock bottom too.
The season for condolences is past.
What I must bear must last as long as life,
  last in my thoughts of you as my destroyer.
Oh yes, it's you that dragged me down!
You expelled me, you arranged
  that I should beg my daily bread.
But for my two girls
  I should not even be alive if left to you.
It's they who tend me, they preserve me.
They are the ones who play a man's and not a woman's part.

But you, you and your brother-- bastards--
  are no sons of mine.

The eye of Fate is on you now.
Her glance is mild to what it soon shall be
  if once your armies march on Thebes.
Never shall you topple down that city.
Instead, you'll trip up headlong into blood,
  your brother too,
  spattering each other.
Long ago I cursed you both,
  and now once more I summon up those curses,
  let them battle for me.
Let them teach you reverence
  for those that gave you birth.
Let them teach you what contempt is worth
  of an eyeless Father
  who had such worthless sons.

My daughters did not treat me so.
Therefore, if Justice is still seated
  side by side with Zeus
  in ancient and eternal sway,
I consign to perdition
  your sanctimonious supplications
  and your precious throne.
So, leave my sight.  Get gone and die:
  you trash-- no son of mine.
Die,
  with these my curses
  ringing in your ears:
Never to flatten your motherland beneath your spear,
Never to set foot again in Arvgive's vales,
Instead you die,
  die by a brother's blow
  and make him dead by yours
  who drove you out.

That's my prayer for you.
I summon the pitchy gloom of Tartarus
  to gulp you down
  to a new paternal home.
I summon the holy spirits of this place.
I summon Ares the Destroyer,
  who whirled you into hatred and collision.
With these imprecations in your ears, get out.
Go publish them in Thebes.
Go tell your bellicose and trusty champions
  the will and testament
That Oedipus bequeaths to his two sons.

The Chorus suggests that Polynieces leave.

Polynieces is devastated.  He'll be destroyed by his own army if they learn the truth.  He begs his sisters to take care of his grave when he inevitably loses his life.  Antigone asks that he not return to the war at all, but his sense of honor demands that he go back.  He makes her promise again to take care of his grave.  Polynieces exits.

Ismene remains silent.

-----------------------------

The plot is an interesting retrospective on Oedipus's life.  Characters enter, say their peace, and leave.  It allows Oedipus to say what must to said to each.  The structure, actually, calls to mind The Dark Knight Returns, in that individual villains enter, are dealt with, and then Batman moves on to the next.

Tried to find a good performance of Oedipus cursing out Polynieces.  It doesn't appear to have been a part of The Gospel of Oedipus.  There was one made-for-TV version from the '80s that didn't seem to capture the moment very well.  But there was also this:

Oedipus At Colonus, 2

The Chorus wants to hear Oedipus's tragic story from the source himself.  He doesn't want to talk.  He gives the details little by little, and the Chorus is horrified, but he also insists once again that he is no sinner.  He additionally confirms that he killed his father Laius, but is innocent of wrongdoing here as well.

Theseus arrives to play let's make a deal-- he has some pity and respect for Oedipus.  Oedipus asks that he be protected and buried in Athens.  He knows his sons are coming to carry him back to Thebes, but he will not go with them-- not after they banished him while he desired to remain.  He knows they are only coming at the urging of an oracle that Oedipus will help them in battle.  Oedipus is offering to remain in Athens and so to aid them in battle against Thebes.  Theseus finds this silly.  There is peace between the cities!  But Oedipus explains that all peace is fleeting in the affairs of men.  Theseus is happy to oblige Oedipus, but Oedipus begs him to swear an oath for his protection.  Done.

Chorus sings the praises of Athens.

Creon arrives to force Oedipus back to Thebes.  [He speaks with a nastiness uncharacteristic of him in Oedipus the King, but all too characteristic in Antigone.]  Oedipus curses him out for his duplicity.  The fight, and Oedipus laughs that he has the protection of all Athens behind him.  So Creon changes tactics and seizes the girls Antigone and Ismene instead.  Caught completely off guard, the Chorus begs for help.  No one saw this coming.

Words exchanged between the men of Thebes and the men of Athens.  Creon: "Then it's Thebes and Athens on the battlefield."  Oedipus gets a little too excited that his prediction from six pages earlier was correct.  Oedipus loses hold of Antigone, his only guide through his dark wanderings.  Creon sticks around to put down Oedipus one last time, but when he turns back the men have taken Antigone away and Creon himself is surrounded by the Athenians.  He's screwed.

Creon makes one last lunge at Oedipus, but the Athenians hold him back.  Theseus arrives with backup.

-------------------------

More and more, Oedipus is proclaiming his innocence of any wrongdoing.  It's a respectable defiance in the face his fate, in a way.

A Modern Utopia (H.G. Wells)

(via Heretics)

Well, Chesterton is right.  Wells's utopia is utterly absurd and entirely unpracticeable.  The specific criticism Chesterton had of all utopian dreams was that they "take the greatest difficulty of man and assume it to be overcome, and then give an elaborate account of the overcoming of the smaller ones."  In this case, Wells explains the administering of a one-world State without ever explaining how the entire population submitted to the State.  He describes the running of a world-class railroad without every addressing by what motivation any group of men actually designed, financed, and physically built the track.

(This insouciance concerning all economic matters, of course, drove me nuts throughout the book.  It is not possible for the State to provide to all the people the high standard of living they desire.  It must be worked for, and the motivation for that work must come from within.  Societies have tried to build a socialist utopia.  It don't work.)

Wells does mention the troublesome people who might get in the way of his single-State dream world.  But he always dismisses the problem of dealing with them-- either through banishment or, in the case of young undesireables, through death.  Simple!

In this, as far as I've gleaned from my other political readings, he typically reflects the views of the early-20th century progressives-- and their sentiments survive in the big-government impulses on the liberal side of the aisle today.  (I gotta read Liberal Fascism.)

But the biggest hole in the tale of Utopia is the lack of personal interaction with its residents.  There are maybe a total of four conversations with the citizens of Utopia.  One is with the narrator's double, in which he learns the rules of the samurai (we must know how the elites behave!), two are with the innkeeper and the government bureaucrat, who are more confused about the narrator's situation than anything else, and the last is with the fellow-traveller who the narrator dismisses as a raving lunatic.  That lunatic was simply not happy with the administration of the State, and the narrator pooh-poohed him for it.  But surely in the entire world there must be millions who are unhappy with their lives and the way things are.  Once again, the simple matter of disagreement-- which surely forms the central difficulty of political life-- is unacknowledged, unaddressed, unsolved.  But they've got cool trains, and the fares are free!

The botanist companion leans a little more to the realistic side, however, in that he obsesses over the woman who broke his heart-- even in Utopia, he can't let it go.  This will be a source of conflict in any world built by man.  And the narrator is exasperated by the botanist's inability to get with the program.  Sorry dude, you're just gonna have to to deal with it.

What I can't tell is to what extent the narrator's positions and attitudes are Wells's own.  He does give a warning at the outset that the narrator is a fictional character, and when the dream of the Utopia dissolves we are left seeing the narrator as an angry character living in dirty London.  But the design of the Utopia can only be a reflection of the author's desires, I think, even if he'd like to hide it.

Appendix

An essay on the limits of philosophy discovered by Wells's coming to logic after having learned evolutionary biology.  The crux of his problem is that he does not believe in the objectivity of universals-- all categories are fuzzy, subjective, provisional, and imposed on the world by the human mind.  This calls into question most of logic itself, as syllogism only works if categorical statements are possible.  Problem number two is the tendency of the mind to take the negation of an idea and turn the negation itself into a positive idea for the purpose of logical analysis.  And problem number three is our tendency to only pay attention to certain aspects of our disparate ideas when drawing comparisons between them.  Put this all together and you get the impossibility of moral reasoning.  And moral argument becomes an argument over mere aesthetic preference, with no proper or superior standard of judgment at all.

But does Wells know any of this?  Clearly not, by his own lights.  Materialistic philosophy eats itself whole.

My conclusion: If positivistic materialism conflicts with genuine human experience, so much the worse for materialism.  And everyone believes this, no matter how "rational" they claim to be.

-------------------------

Incidentally, this is the first entry in the blog I read entirely from a Kindle edition.  I've decided that's an acceptable format for quick reads, especially for referred works that aren't classics in and of themselves.

Oedipus At Colonus, 1

Oedipus, old and feeble, wanders with his daughter Antigone.  They come upon a town of Athens and ask a passerby their current location.  He first chastises them for spoiling the holy ground of the Eumenides [?]-- the "Kindly Ones".  At this, Oedipus senses he is at his journey's end.  The passerby explains they are in Colonus, ruled by King Theseus.  Oedipus asks to speak to some of the townspeople, and the citizen departs.

Alone with Antigone, Oedipus tells of the secret prophecy that he would end his life in a place such as this.

A group of townspeople-- the Chorus-- approaches Oedipus and scolds him for spoiling the holy ground.  Antigone helps him outside of the sacred boundary, where he converses with the Chorus.  They ask his name, but he is hesitant to make it known.  Finally, he mentions Laius, and the Chorus recognize him as the wretched, cursed Oedipus-- and instantly want to banish him from their land.  Antigone pleads his case and asks for pity on what is now simply a broken old man.  The Chorus demures, and Oedipus stands up for himself-- in the intervening years he has gained some perspective on the horrible fate that befell him.  The Chorus is content to allow the city's leader to come and decide what to do.

Oedipus's other daughter Ismene suddenly arrives.  She is happy to see her father and sister-- they have had contact over the intervening years-- but brings disturbing news out of Thebes.  Both of Oedipus's sons are jealous of Creon's control over the city, and are at war with him and with each other for the throne.  The younger Eteocles is in power while the elder Polyneices prepares an army for invasion.  They also have an oracle saying Oedipus will return to hand the power of the city to one of them once and for all.  Oedipus is incensed-- fie on that!  He curses them both.  Moreover, he's not too pleased with the whole city of Thebes either.  After his initial despair when he blinded himself, he actually got used to the fate that he had been dealt and was somewhat ready to move on.  At that moment, the city banished him while his sons sat by and did nothing.

So Oedipus is done with Thebes, and is willing to belong to the city of Colonus now.  The Chorus explains a rite of purification he must perform for trespassing on the holy ground, and the prayer he must say to the Eumenides.  Ismene performs the rite for him.

--------------------------

Very dramatic, formal, and ceremonial so far.  The action might pick up, but it is certainly a more mellow narrative than Sophocles's earlier works.

The Blatchford Controversies, 4 - The Eternal Heroism Of The Slums

The knock on Christianity is its sordid history of sin and crime.  But there is nothing in that sin and crime unique to Christianity.  All human institutions have histories riddled with crime, for crime is what happens when humans cling to their strongly held views and try for them to win the day.  The worst offender in theis arena is the State itself, the inventor of all the tools of torture.

The difference is that Christianity acknowledges its sin.  Its tale of its own origin, in fact, originates in human sin.  That sin is the starting point on which the edifice of redemption is built.  Unlike many other institutions, Christianity at least offers a remedy for sin.

The rationalists, on the other hand, offer only one solution to the state of humanity: the denial of any personal responsibility for any action at all.  Taken in full, this solution will ruin all of human experience.  For while it absolves the wrongdoer from any responsibility for wrongs done, it also excludes the good man from any responsibility for virtuous acts.  Moreover, the adoption of the materialist philosophy contradicts itself almost instantly:

[A]lthough people ought not to be blamed for their actions... they ought to be trained to do better.  They ought, he said, to be given better conditions of heredity and environment, and then they would be good, and the problem would be solved.  The primary answer is obvious.  How can one say that a man ought not to be held responsible, but ought to be well trained?  For if he "ought" to be well trained, there must be somebody who "ought" to train him.  And that man must be held responsible for training him.  The proposition has killed itself in three sentences.

Even if it fell to some to set up conditions to make all others virtuous there is not a soul who can tell you what the correct, perfect conditions would be.  And the reason is simple enough: the proper Utopia could only be built by perfect men.  Where are they?

But the attitude is even more sinister than this.  If the rationalist thinks it is up to the upper class to build a society to repair the sin arising out of the lower class, what does this imply?  Obviously, that the lower class is morally deficient, incapable of exercising virtue.  What a wicked thought.  We know that virtue is available to all men-- at times, the knowledge that he is still capable is all that will keep a man going under difficult circumstances.  And now the rationalist wants to take away even that hopeful thought, by telling him he bears no responsibility.  "So pants this strange comforter, from cell to cell."

Such a philosophy will never last.  In time, men will cast it aside in favor of the philosophy that treats them their freedom as men.  Christianity correctly offers that philosophy.

The Blatchford Controversies, III - Miracles And Modern Civilization

The silliest argument against Christianity is ridicule its claimed miracles, or to suggest that a belief in miracles is contradicted by modern science.  Miracles are by definition rare events, and it is not obvious at all that the laws of nature could not produce them in rare circumstances.  The real miracle, one not noticed by the rationalists, is the continued existence of things.  Their philosophy cannot begin to contemplate such an occurence as this.

Moreover, the use of a concept like a "law of nature" is no kind of explanation at all, but merely an analogous reference to a more familiar item of experience: a law of Parliament.  If we are free to choose from among familiar experience in our explanation of the world, the Christian prefers a much richer item to use as an analogy: an act of will.  The world emerges from the Father's will in the same way an earthly father begets his offspring.  And this is a much richer source for an analogy, as the potential works of this will are much more varied and marvellous than anything a mere law could ever produce.

The current fashion of materialism is just that: mere fashion.  Fie on that.  It is no argument to say a rational modern judge could not be convinced of Christianity.

But it does not seem to occur to [Blatchford] that we Christians may not have such an extravagant reverence for English judges as is felt by Mr. Blatchford himself. 

The experiences of the Founder of Christianity have perhaps left us in a vague doubt of the infallibility of courts of law.

[Burn.]

And it would be silly for the different religions to deny one another's miracles.  Signs and wonders are a universal feature of human experience.  The arguments among religions concern doctrine, of course.  The vital question is whether a religion has a "true philosophy of the Universe."

--------------------------

At first I read this as just a boring repetition of the fallacy of inductive reasoning, but it's way deeper than that.  It's especially interesting that the vaunted "laws of nature" that the rationalist subscribed to were about to be overturned wholesale by quantum physics.

Philoctetes, 3

Odysseus arrives, and Philoctetes is enraged: he recognizes that Odysseus has been manipulating Neoptolemus the whole time.  Odysseus binds Philoctetes to bring him back to Troy, all the while claiming innocence, as he is only following the will of Zeus in taking the bow.  Philoctetes proclaims that he could defy the gods if he wants-- man is free, after all!  No dice.  In desperation, he threatens to throw himself from the cliff rather than return with Odysseus-- a final defiant free act.  Odysseus holds him back.  Philoctetes throws all of Odysseus's actions back in his face: Philoctetes was brave in joining the war in the first place, while Odysseus was shifty and two-faced about it.  Also, Odysseus had marooned Philoctetes due to his horrible foot wound-- an issue that has not gotten any better, yet he now wants to drag Philoctetes back against his will.  Well, the hell with that.

Odysseus decides to leave Philoctetes on the island, since he now has the bow anyway.  [This is more trickery.  He knows he needs Philoctetes himself, but is trying to play reverse psychology with the threat of abandonment.  He'll be back later.]  He takes Neoptolemus away and leaves the Chorus soldiers to watch Philoctetes and see if he at last changes his mind.

Philoctetes is despondent again, as he has no hope of surviving alone on the island.  He tries to work the Chorus to his side, as they try to convince him to come to Troy.  But finally, he resolves to kill himself if they will leave him a weapon.  He will join his father and ancestors in the afterlife.

Back at the boat, Neoptolemus demands the bow from Odysseus, as he has resolved to undo his own unjust actions:

N: I go to undo the wrong that I have done.

O: A strange thing to say! What wrong was that?

N: I did wrong when I obeyed you and the Greeks.

O: What did we make you do that was unworthy?

N: I practiced craft and treachery with success.

O: On whom? Would you do some rash thing now?

N: Nothing rash. I am going to give something back.

O: What? I am afraid to hear what you will say.

N: Back to the man I took it from, this bow.

O: You cannot mean you are going to give it back.

N: Just that. To my shame, unjustly, I obtained it.

...

N: It was a sin, a shameful sin, which I shall try to retrieve.

O: Have you no fear of the Greeks if you do this?

N: I have no fear of anything you can do,
when I act with justice; nor shall I yield to force

Neoptolemus returns the bow to Philoctetes (if only to give him a chance of survival) after much prodding for him to take it-- there's a bit of a trust issue here.  Odysseus tries to forbid it, and Philoctetes attempts to strike him down, but Neoptolemus puts a stop to it.  Having finally earned his trust, though, Neoptolemus tries once more to convince Philoctetes to come to Troy.  First, he explains that Philoctetes' agonizing pain is due to his intrusion on sacred ground, and he does not deserve relief.  Then he explains that relief can come only one way, by telling whole prophecy through which the two of them will together finally win the war.  Philoctetes won't have it.  They argue back and forth, but in the end Neoptolemus agrees to bring Philoctetes back to Greece, as originally promised.  Philoctetes promises to protect Neoptolemus there from any revenge the Greeks seek against him.  Penance complete.  Yippee!

Heracles shows up (?!) and explains the true necessity of them both returning to Troy to finish the war together.  Philoctetes will be cured, will kill Paris, and will be honored as a hero.  Neoptolemus will be by his side, and will survive and flourish as long as he stays holy in the sight of Zeus.  Philoctetes finally agrees to fulfill his fate, and leaves for the war.

----------------------------

Closest thing to a happy ending I'm likely to see, probably.

The introduction mentioned the Deus ex machina ending.  Sophocles was a hack, apparently.

I like the moral development apparent in the play.  Sophocles seems to have concluded that morality is not simply the following of the gods' commands, but is following what is right, whether the gods command it or not.  There are objectively good and bad actions regardless of special circumstances, and Neoptolemus ultimately chose to do the right thing.  Meanwhile, Odysseus was kind of a sociopath.

On the other hand, in the end the command of the proper kind of authority was enough to get Philoctetes to do what he vowed he would not do.  Heracles does command the respect and obedience of Philoctetes, no matter what the command is.  But that must only be because Heracles is himself such a moral figure, perhaps worthy of an honor and station even greater than the capricious and untrustworthy Zeus.