In the last few centuries, the examples of England and France have proven that after you cut the king's head off, you can restore the monarchy, but it will never really be the same. Fortune's Favorites shows that once one general marches on Rome,* you can restore the republic, but it will never really be the same. Once one general shows the way, the temptation will be out there for the rest. All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot put Humpty together again.
Fortune's Favorites begins with Sulla returning for his second, bloody march on Rome to follow his initial, bloodless one. His enemies are raising an army and purging potential opponents. Rebellious parts of Italy, defeated once, are rising again. And a young general named Pompey, heir to what amounts to a private army, can see who the winner is and places himself at Sulla's disposal. Sulla's health and beauty are gone, and he, too, has become a bit unbalanced, but he remains rational in a sociopathic kind of way. Sulla massacres Italian soldiers after they surrender. He sends his troops to the rebellious areas with the message to reduce them by brute force. He summons the Senate just to hear the screams.
But, his enemies say, this can only be a short-term measure. He cannot afford to field his army indefinitely, and once he disbands them, how will he hold power by force. The answer turns out to be by forming something that Rome never had before and perhaps had no concept of -- a secret police. His political opponents start disappearing. No one knows what is happening. Then people start seeing strange bands of men knock on their doors and drag them off. Then these strange bands of men start to be noticed trailing Sulla's possible enemies, or standing around taking notes. Soon anyone who was too cozy with Marius starts leaving in fear of The Knock In The Night. Heads start appearing on spikes. And all these strange men are called Lucius Cornelius ________, meaning that they are Sulla's freedmen, or perhaps foreigners he sponsored for citizenship.
I never understood why one-party states in modern times feel the need to hold elections with only one candidate for office. What legitimacy could it possibly convey? I still don't understand, but apparently the practice is not a new one. It dates back at least to Sulla. He summons the Senate to announce that he will continue holding elections for offices -- but with only one candidate for each, of his choosing. When one of his loyalist is so foolish as to complain about being skipped over and, worse, to go out and start campaigning for the office, Sulla's secret police very publicly chop his head off and put it up on a spike. From then on, no one dares openly defy him. Brave, brave Metellus Pius dares to ask whether he knows about the disappearances. Sulla confirms that he is behind them. Bravely, Pius continues, asking if he will reveal who he will spare. Sulla refuses. Pius then asks if he can at least tell who he will kill. So Sulla starts posting lists of the proscribed, saying that anyone who kills a victim on the list will receive a two-talent reward. Their property will be seized and sold; indeed, one of the purposes of the lists is to refill the treasury of the devastated country. He forbids the widows of the proscribed from remarrying and their sons from holding office, and orders loyalists married to the daughters of his enemies to divorce them. Naturally, abuses and corruption are rampant in the process.
Sulla's overall focus is to concentrate power as much as possible in the hands of the Senate. He limits the popular Assemblies to voting up or down measures recommended by the Senate. He forbids them from so much as discussing foreign, imperial, or military matters in debate. Never again will an Assembly strip a general of his command, as the Plebeian Assembly did to him. He forbids Tribunes of the Plebs from running for any other office and strips them of their power to initiate legislation, or even to veto. This last is such a breach of tradition that everyone is shocked and horrified. The only power the tribunes retain is to deliver a plebeian from the magistrates. He forbids the state from selling cheap grain. He limits juries to Senators.
He also introduces useful and often long overdue reforms. Some are a bit picky, like establishing proper decorum in the Senate or requiring candidates for office to move from lower to higher officer (from military tribune to aedile to quaestor to praetor to consul). Some are valuable, such as his changes to the courts. I am unclear how courts worked before Sulla. There are references to trial by Tribal Assembly, but also to juries consisting of Senators and equestrians (the first class). It is suggested that the Assembly had to pass a procedure authorizing every major trial! Trial by jury apparently allowed appeal to the Assembly, and only the Assemblies could pass the death sentence on a Roman citizen. Sulla establishes regular judges to preside over different kinds of trials. He ends the right of appeal (saying that if the Assembly authorizes the procedure, the Assembly will approve the trials and no appeal will be necessary). He also ends the death penalty for Roman citizens with one exception. (A hypocritical action given his own proscription lists!) He requires all consuls to allow ten years before they run for the office again and requires all consuls and praetors to serve a year abroad as governors after their terms are up.
He also wants to prevent anyone else from doing what he has done and marching on Rome. So he makes it a crime for any provincial governor or general campaigning abroad, without consent of the Senate to leave the province, march beyond the provincial frontier, start a war, invade a client state, change the status of any foreign country, recruit troops, or remain in the province more than six months after his replacement is sent. These are to be tried in the treason court, with the presumed penalty of exile with loss of property. But treason by any civilian or anyone within the Italian peninsula is to be tried by the Centuriate Assembly, and the penalty is crucifixion.
This is Sulla's attempt to prevent a repeat performance. Of course, he is not successful. Once the unthinkable happens, it ceases to be unthinkable. Trouble is brewing in several forms. Diehard Marian Quintus Sertorius has set up his own independent country in Spain and is receiving aid from Rome's enemies, as well as being in correspondence with supporters at home who want him to return and depose Sulla. Sulla, like Marius, wants to give his soldiers land. But while Marius gave his men land a safe distance away, Sulla gives them land in Italy, taken from owners in rebellious areas. This had the dual effects of inciting discontent and new rebellion and of ensuring that anyone who wants to start a civil war will have plenty of experienced veterans to call on.
And one general is already seeking to emulate Sulla -- young Pompey. Pompey's father was lord of much of northern Italy, with a substantial private army at his command. Young Pompey spots who is going to win this civil war and offers his services to Sulla. He wins victories on Sulla's behalf and shows such enthusiasm executing Sulla's enemies that he is soon know as the Kid Butcher. (His father was know as the Butcher or the Cross-Eyed Butcher). Pompey has both more and less regard for tradition than Sulla. When he wins important victories in Africa but is denied a triumph, Pompey promptly emulates Sulla and marches on Rome. But it is a bluff; he just wants a triumph, not a military dictatorship. Sulla agrees, but then makes Pompey's triumph the third in six days to diminish its importance. Pompey undercuts his own triumph by having his chariot drawn by elephants instead of horses, only to discovery that they won't fit through the gates! The Senate ends up laughing at him. Pompey refuses Sulla's offer of a seat in the Senate, silently vowing that he will repay the Senate's humiliation of him by humiliating them. Sulla sees Pompey as dangerous enough that he buys his loyalty by getting a law that will allow the Senate to give military command to a non-member in case of emergency.
Confident that all power is concentrated in the hands of the Senate, Sulla then steps down. (His dictatorship lasted only about three years; he died about a year later). For reasons that are far from clear, he then appoints as his successors two consuls, one a supporter and one an opponent. Friction promptly develops between them as one seeks to uphold Sulla's measures and one to repeal them. Soon Sulla's opponent is in open revolt, backed by the parts of Italy that Sulla most mistreated. Veteran troops, settled near at hand and feeling bored, scramble to take sides. Meanwhile Pompey, whose land holding have made him fabulously wealthy, bribes a number of influential Senators to form a faction in his favor. He encourages them to stir up the revolt so he can be called upon to suppress it. He also gets them to send him to Spain to defeat Sertorius, which takes several years, but eventually succeeds.
Then Spartacus leads his slave revolt. (Yes, it really did happen at this time). He and his followers first seek to join Sertorius in Spain, but when they learn that Sertorius is defeated, the head for other parts of Italy that Sulla treated most brutally and are eager to rebel again. They sack and pillage anyone who resists. Crassus fights an all-out war of extermination against them. Pompey finishes up a remnant who escape.
Both men intend to parlay their military victories into consulship -- fine and good for Crassus, but Pompey is not even in the Senate and has never held elective office before, making his consulship unconstitutional. Both are fabulously wealthy and seek to buy up as many Senators as possible. Both also bring in their armies, and the threat of civil war once again looms. Caesar manages to patch up a peace between them by pointing out that they are both guilty of treason and that their only hope is to restore the powers of the tribunes, who will then get a law enacted to pardon both of them. (NOTE: The author made up that part. There is no evidence of it).
Crassus and Pompey then become co-consuls and restore the powers of the tribunes. Both fabulously wealthy, both dig deep into their own pockets to buy popularity. At the end of their year in power, both retire, exhausted, to see to their personal fortunes. Peace and prosperity have been restored, at least for now.
At least as interesting as the plot are how McCullough portrays her characters. More on that in my next few posts.
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*March on Rome seems awkward to say, because in modern times it is what Mussolini did. But it is what Sulla did as well.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Fortune's Favorites: A Recap of How We Got Here
Three years elapse between the end of The Grass Crown and the beginning of Fortune's Favorites. Three years also elapsed between the end of First Man in Rome and The Grass Crown. First Man in Rome, however, was mostly the story of how the Phantom Menace was defeated, and the intervening years were ones of peace and prosperity, so not much recap was needed. The Grass Crown, on the other hand, is a story of escalating political turmoil doing credit to no one, and ends on a most unsettled note. The three intervening years are eventful. So let us recap.
The first half (or so) of The Grass Crown is taken up with the main characters attempting to extend Roman citizenship to the Italian allies. The effort is defeated on the eve of its success by the assassination of Marcus Livius Drusus (the non-protagonist hero). The allies then revolt. A ghastly civil war ensues and devastates the Italian Peninsula. Citizenship is extended to all Italians not taking part in the revolt, and gradually to others as well. Gaius Marius, hero of First Man in Rome, is sidelined by a stroke, but Lucius Cornelius Sulla seizes the reigns, wins the war, and is elected senior consul based on his war hero status. He gets off to a reasonable start, accepting the newly admitted Italians as citizens and seeking to draw a reasonable compromise between creditors and debtors to allow the devastated land to recover. But soon he learns that a hostile king in the east has taken advantage of Rome's civil war to seize much of Rome's Greek possessions and massacre every Roman and Italian under his control. Rome has a new war on its hands.
Marius demands command despite his age and ill-health. Sulpicius the demagogue blames Rome's ruling class for its misfortunes and sets out overturn it. Together, they propose the following measures:
The first half (or so) of The Grass Crown is taken up with the main characters attempting to extend Roman citizenship to the Italian allies. The effort is defeated on the eve of its success by the assassination of Marcus Livius Drusus (the non-protagonist hero). The allies then revolt. A ghastly civil war ensues and devastates the Italian Peninsula. Citizenship is extended to all Italians not taking part in the revolt, and gradually to others as well. Gaius Marius, hero of First Man in Rome, is sidelined by a stroke, but Lucius Cornelius Sulla seizes the reigns, wins the war, and is elected senior consul based on his war hero status. He gets off to a reasonable start, accepting the newly admitted Italians as citizens and seeking to draw a reasonable compromise between creditors and debtors to allow the devastated land to recover. But soon he learns that a hostile king in the east has taken advantage of Rome's civil war to seize much of Rome's Greek possessions and massacre every Roman and Italian under his control. Rome has a new war on its hands.
Marius demands command despite his age and ill-health. Sulpicius the demagogue blames Rome's ruling class for its misfortunes and sets out overturn it. Together, they propose the following measures:
- To recall everyone banished for supporting Italian citizenship (eminently reasonable, since they had been vindicated);
- To distribute the newly admitted Italian citizens among the 35 Roman tribes (controversial, but defensible. The Roman assemblies practiced a modified form of direct democracy whereby the citizenry was divided into 35 tribes. Each tribe had one vote in the assembly based on the decision of a majority of its members. Thus to spread the new citizens among the tribes was to give them voting power roughly proportional to their numbers, while to segregate them in a few tribes was to ensure that they would always be outvoted);
- To distribute Rome's freedmen among the 35 tribes (also controversial but defensible. A slave, when freed, became a citizen with the right to vote, but was always a member of one of four urban tribes and therefore outnumbered by the 31 rural tribes. To spread the freedmen among all tribes would give the city of Rome something closer to influence proportionate to its population);
- To expel from the Senate all members with debts over a rather modest sum, which would have the effect of shrinking the Senate so small that it could never form a quorum (completely nuts. The Senate had essential roles in Rome's government, including foreign and imperial policy and control over money. To destroy so important a part of government would blow a huge hole in the Roman state with nothing to fill it);
- To give Marius command of the new war. (That made it personal for Sulla).
Sulpicius resorts to force to pass his measures, bringing an armed gang to support him and intimidates the Assembly into passing his measures, with a number of opponents dead. Plutarch strongly condemns this action; Wikipedia is a bit more forbearing, reminding us what happened to radical tribunes who were not ready to resort to force.
Sulla, on his way to the East for the war, is informed that he has been relieved of his command and Marius is to take over. So Sulla does what no one had ever done before in Rome's 600 year history -- he leads his army against Rome and seizes power by military force. Once in power, he repeals Sulpicius' legislation and replaces it with several laws of his own. The first re-fills the Senate, reasonable enough. The others radically change the nature of Rome's government. This requires some background on the nature of Rome's government. The Senate was not a true legislature; it could not pass binding legislation. For legislation to be binding, it had to pass one of three popular assemblies -- the Centuriate Assembly which was organized by class and was too cumbersome to be an effective legislature, the Assembly of the Whole, which was organized by tribe, or the Plebeian Assembly, which was also organized by tribe but excluded patricians. The Assemblies could modify measures recommended by the Senate. They could pass measures the Senate recommended against. And the official calling an Assembly into session (consul or praetor for the Assembly of the Whole, tribune for the Plebeian Assembly) could introduce legislation without consulting the Senate at all, although to do so was considered the work of a demagogue. Sulla modifies the Centuriate Assembly to give the First (richest) class half the votes in it and limits the tribal assemblies to voting up or down on measures recommended by the Senate. McCullough says he ended with a measure ending the Tribal Assemblies' legislative powers altogether and allowing only the Centuriate Assembly (dominated as it was by the richest) to pass legislation. None of the other places I have seen mention this last measure, and it does not appear to be in force in Fortune's Favorites.
Plutarch never so much as mentions these measures, although they are of immense importance. He also seems to assume that Sulla's government was legitimate and that everyone opposing him was in unlawful rebellion. And in the absence of these measures, that might make sense. Sulla was, after all, the lawfully elected consul. He had, to all appearances, conducted his consulate in a reasonable manner. With war now brewing, it was the accepted practice to put the consul in command of the army, and Sulla had certainly proven himself qualified for the job. Marius' dubious health (physical and mental) should have been disqualifying. And Sulpicius' measures were enacted by force and could very well be deemed illegitimate. So if Sulla had taken the shocking measure of marching on Rome, but limited himself to deposing Marius and Sulpicius, repealing Sulpicius' measures as made under duress, and reasserted his command of the war, one could very well argue that his actions were justified. His radical overhaul of the government was a different matter altogether and, we may safely assume, was possible only because he had a large army to enforce it. So much for complaining about Sulpicius legislation being passed under duress. These measure change Sulla from a lawful consul taking drastic action to a military dictator, a thing Plutarch completely overlooks.
Sulla then holds elections. One of the consuls (Octavius) is a supporter, but the other (Cinna) is an opponent, as are almost all the tribunes of the plebs (there were 10). Sulla goes off to war. Under these circumstances, it was probably inevitable that battle would break out between the consuls and one would depose and banish the other. Plutarch sides with Sulla's consul as legitimate and McCullough with his opponent. But really the result of Sulla's action was that no one had an undisputed claim to legitimacy and everything would necessarily come down to a trial of force. Octavius won. Cinna fled, joined forces with Marius, and together they raised an army and marched to re-take Rome. The Grass Crown ends with Marius, completely deranged, capturing Rome and unleashing his slave bodyguard in a mad reign of terror and slaughter. Marius is then felled by a stroke, so the others kill off his slave bodyguard and the terror comes to an end.
Or so McCullough says. Plutarch is somewhat unclear on this matter, implicating Cinna in Marius' general slaughter (McCullough denies it) and seeming to indicate that the reign of terror continued unabated after Marius does. But on the other hand, he also says that after Marius died his bodyguard who were guilty of the worst excesses were killed, so things presumably improved.
McCullough begins with a 20-page synopsis of the events in First Man in Rome, these events, and the events between the books. What happened between was apparently that both Sulla and the forces sent by the new government fought in the East and won significant victories, but were handicapped by their refusal to cooperate. Sulla ends up having to quit before he has full won to go home and seize power.
It is not clear why McCullough glosses over these events, but I have my suspicion. My suspicion is that McCullough's basic sympathies are with the popular faction, and if she showed events in the interim, she would not have been able to disguise the fact that their reign of terror continued, albeit at a reduced level, even with Marius and his bodyguards out of the way. To do so was the inevitable logic of their position. Their government was of dubious legitimacy. Sulla and his army were out there, certain to claim power some time. Undoubtedly Sulla had a fifth column of supporters in Rome. The threat would almost seem to compel some sort of a purge. And purges have a habit of escalating out of hand.
The biggest takeaway I would say I got from The Grass Crown was what an immense military asset it is to have a government of indisputable legitimacy and an army of unquestionable loyalty. An indisputably legitimate government does not have to take forces out of foreign wars to handle domestic security. It is not unexpectedly torn asunder by civil war. It does not have to abandon foreign threats in favor of ones at home. And a government that doubts its army's loyalty will have to be in the position of undercutting its own military effectiveness out of fear that its own army is a bigger threat than the enemy it is fighting. Undoubtedly one of the strengths that permitted Rome to become a mighty empire in the first place was the undisputed legitimacy of its government and the unquestioned loyalty of its army. And that was the advantage that Rome is now in the process of throwing away.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Fortune's Favorites: Recurring Motifs
All right, as before, I want to discuss some recurring motifs in the series. A few ground rules are in order here. It doesn't count if the past incident is expressly acknowledged. For instance, in the first novel, Sulla's future wife starved herself to force her parents to let her marry him. In the second novel, Sulla's daughter starts starving herself to force her father to let her marry young Marius. This does not count because the characters mention that she is following in her mother's footsteps. In the first novel, Sulla sees his old boyfriend Metrobius and his wife Julilla sees them in action in commits suicide. In the second novel, after Sulla sees Metrobius, his sick son takes a turn for the worse and dies. In the third novel, after Sulla sees Metrobius, his wife Dalmatica is taken ill and dies. This does not count because Sulla expressly believes that every time he sees Metrobius, someone in his family will dies. Nor does it count if some particular subject is raised more than once. For instance, Caesar has two eccentricities, an aversion to alcohol and a habit of removing all his body hair. Peeking ahead, it appears that his hairlessness and teetotalling get mention in future books, but they are simply continuation. To count, similar things must independently happen in an earlier and later novel with no recognition of the repetition. So here we go.
In all three books, whenever anyone receives a letter, the author emphasizes how difficult it is to decipher the writer's chicken scratch. The purpose appears to be to emphasize how cool Caesar is because he can read any writing at a glance.
In Rome the licker fish feasted off the city's sewers. Despite its dubious diet, the Roman aristocracy esteemed it as a delicacy. In First Man in Rome, Sulla recounts this to the actor Metrobius to show how decadent the Roman aristocracy is. In Fortune's Favorites, a feast is being held to celebrate the inauguration of the new consuls. Caesar, resentful that as flamen dialis (high priest of Jupiter), he is forbidden to eat most of what is being served, points out what the licker fish is and ruins the feast for the new consul.
In The Grass Crown, the most respected physician in Rome is Apollodorus, who Sulla hold in the utmost respect ever since he figured out that one of Sulla's political rivals who was suddenly taken ill and died was actually poisoned. (Although it doesn't occur to him to suspect Sulla, just because he was drinking with his victim right before he got sick). Apollodorus in on hand whenever anyone is seriously ill or injured, including difficult births. (Somehow, they all end up dying, though). In Fortune's Favorites, Sulla's most trusted doctor his Lucius Tuccius. We, the readers, learn to trust him too after Caesar is slow in recovering for a severe attack of malaria and Lucius Tuccius recognizes that he is anemic and orders him to eat liver. Lucius Tuccius is on hand whenever anyone is seriously ill, including difficult births. Somehow, most of them end up dying, though.
In First Man in Rome, when Julilla was starving herself, her life is saved by feeding her milk, eggs and honey beaten to a foam, with wine added to make it pink. In Fortune's Favorites, when Caesar is recovering from malaria-induced anemia, besides liver he is told to eat milk and eggs beaten together. His family has to add a lot of sweet wine for him to tolerate it. And when King Nicomedes of Bithyinia is dying, all he can tolerate is a blend of milk, honey, and wine.
In First Man in Rome, Livia Drusa is held prisoner in her house by her brother to protect the family name. When she marries, her husband gives her money and lets her go shopping, but she fails to appreciate her liberation because of an unreasoning aversion to him. (That aversion is shown as justified in The Grass Crown, and this time her brother comes to her rescue). In Fortune's Favorites, Servilia has been held prisoner in her house by her uncle (Livia Drusa's brother) and eagerly looks forward to marriage as liberation. Her marriage doesn't go so well, though.
In The Grass Crown, Servilia Caepionis (aunt of the other Servilia) has a very comfortable pregnancy and seems to flourish until her labor begins and she has a sudden hemorrhage and dies. She goes from terrible pain to blissful detachment within two hours. In Fortune's Favorites, Aemelia Scaura flourishes during pregnancy and has no nausea, even when Pompey (her husband) calls her his "delectable wee pudding," his "adorable kitten," his "darling little roly-poly girl," and his "greedy little piggy wiggy." (The reader may not have so strong a stomach!) Then she goes into premature labor, starts hemorrhaging, and bleeds her way from pain to oblivion.
In The Grass Crown, Marcus Livius Drusus calls for Rome to guarantee sale of grain at five sesterces in good years and bad. He argues that, although they will have to debase the currency somewhat, it should be affordable if a standing fund is established because the state can buy grain for less than five sesterces in good years and sell it at a profit, then use the profits to fund buying it in bad years, which are less common than good years. In Fortune's Favorites, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus calls for restoring the practice of selling grain at ten sesterces in good years and bad. He argues that Rome can afford to do so indefinitely since grain costs less than ten sesterces in good years, so the state can sell at a profit and use the funds to finance sales in bad years, which are less common than good years. Both men's advocacy of these measures is a matter of historical record. Whether they both made the same argument I do not know.
In First Man in Rome, King Jugurtha of Numidia rebels against Rome and is defeated by Marius and captured by Sulla. He is to be led through Rome in the triumphal parade and then strangled. Fearless, he has a pleasant feast with his captures the night before the parade and discusses the past and potential future with no hint of resentment. But when he asks Sulla who deserves credit for the victory, him or Marius, Sulla breaks his cheer by saying that this is an attempt to sow discord, and for that he will not strangle Jugurtha, but will throw him into the pit and leave him to starve. (Jugurtha nonetheless meets his fate with great courage). In Fortune's Favorites, Caesar crucifies 500 pirates who held him for ransom. He makes them set up their own crosses, telling them that if they do it wrong, they will suffer more. The pirate chief nonetheless shirks and gets Caesar to set the cross up. He then grins and jokes (even as he is about to be crucified) that, "I may not be an engineer, but I engineered my executioner into making my cross." Caesar breaks his cheer by saying that for that he will not break his legs, but will leave him to suffocate for days.
And finally, this one calls for some peeking ahead, but it is a biggie. In Fortune's Favorites, Pompey goes to Spain to fight Quintus Sertorius, a follower of Marius who has broken Spain off from Rome and set up his independent country there. Having difficulty with the war, he offers a reward to anyone with information leading to Sertorius' capture. Marcus Peperna Veiento, a trusted follower of Sertorius, gets close enough to him at a feast, kills him, and presents his head to Pompey. Pompey says the reward was for information leading to Sertorius' capture, not for his head. Even when Peperna offers Pompey all of Sertorius' papers, showing who his allies are in Rome who wanted him back, Pompey burns the papers and has Peperna executed. In the future, Caesar and Pompey will wage war and Caesar will win. Pompey will flee to Egypt where he has trusted followers, leaving his papers behind. Caesar will burn them. Pompey's trusted followers in Egypt will kill him and present Caesar with his head. Caesar will be furious and execute them. And this is one that cannot be blamed on the author's fondness for recurring motifs. It is actual historical fact.*
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*Classical historians say that both Caesar and Pompey burned the papers unread. The author has them read the papers, memorize the contents, and then burn them.
In all three books, whenever anyone receives a letter, the author emphasizes how difficult it is to decipher the writer's chicken scratch. The purpose appears to be to emphasize how cool Caesar is because he can read any writing at a glance.
In Rome the licker fish feasted off the city's sewers. Despite its dubious diet, the Roman aristocracy esteemed it as a delicacy. In First Man in Rome, Sulla recounts this to the actor Metrobius to show how decadent the Roman aristocracy is. In Fortune's Favorites, a feast is being held to celebrate the inauguration of the new consuls. Caesar, resentful that as flamen dialis (high priest of Jupiter), he is forbidden to eat most of what is being served, points out what the licker fish is and ruins the feast for the new consul.
In The Grass Crown, the most respected physician in Rome is Apollodorus, who Sulla hold in the utmost respect ever since he figured out that one of Sulla's political rivals who was suddenly taken ill and died was actually poisoned. (Although it doesn't occur to him to suspect Sulla, just because he was drinking with his victim right before he got sick). Apollodorus in on hand whenever anyone is seriously ill or injured, including difficult births. (Somehow, they all end up dying, though). In Fortune's Favorites, Sulla's most trusted doctor his Lucius Tuccius. We, the readers, learn to trust him too after Caesar is slow in recovering for a severe attack of malaria and Lucius Tuccius recognizes that he is anemic and orders him to eat liver. Lucius Tuccius is on hand whenever anyone is seriously ill, including difficult births. Somehow, most of them end up dying, though.
In First Man in Rome, when Julilla was starving herself, her life is saved by feeding her milk, eggs and honey beaten to a foam, with wine added to make it pink. In Fortune's Favorites, when Caesar is recovering from malaria-induced anemia, besides liver he is told to eat milk and eggs beaten together. His family has to add a lot of sweet wine for him to tolerate it. And when King Nicomedes of Bithyinia is dying, all he can tolerate is a blend of milk, honey, and wine.
In First Man in Rome, Livia Drusa is held prisoner in her house by her brother to protect the family name. When she marries, her husband gives her money and lets her go shopping, but she fails to appreciate her liberation because of an unreasoning aversion to him. (That aversion is shown as justified in The Grass Crown, and this time her brother comes to her rescue). In Fortune's Favorites, Servilia has been held prisoner in her house by her uncle (Livia Drusa's brother) and eagerly looks forward to marriage as liberation. Her marriage doesn't go so well, though.
In The Grass Crown, Servilia Caepionis (aunt of the other Servilia) has a very comfortable pregnancy and seems to flourish until her labor begins and she has a sudden hemorrhage and dies. She goes from terrible pain to blissful detachment within two hours. In Fortune's Favorites, Aemelia Scaura flourishes during pregnancy and has no nausea, even when Pompey (her husband) calls her his "delectable wee pudding," his "adorable kitten," his "darling little roly-poly girl," and his "greedy little piggy wiggy." (The reader may not have so strong a stomach!) Then she goes into premature labor, starts hemorrhaging, and bleeds her way from pain to oblivion.
In The Grass Crown, Marcus Livius Drusus calls for Rome to guarantee sale of grain at five sesterces in good years and bad. He argues that, although they will have to debase the currency somewhat, it should be affordable if a standing fund is established because the state can buy grain for less than five sesterces in good years and sell it at a profit, then use the profits to fund buying it in bad years, which are less common than good years. In Fortune's Favorites, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus calls for restoring the practice of selling grain at ten sesterces in good years and bad. He argues that Rome can afford to do so indefinitely since grain costs less than ten sesterces in good years, so the state can sell at a profit and use the funds to finance sales in bad years, which are less common than good years. Both men's advocacy of these measures is a matter of historical record. Whether they both made the same argument I do not know.
In First Man in Rome, King Jugurtha of Numidia rebels against Rome and is defeated by Marius and captured by Sulla. He is to be led through Rome in the triumphal parade and then strangled. Fearless, he has a pleasant feast with his captures the night before the parade and discusses the past and potential future with no hint of resentment. But when he asks Sulla who deserves credit for the victory, him or Marius, Sulla breaks his cheer by saying that this is an attempt to sow discord, and for that he will not strangle Jugurtha, but will throw him into the pit and leave him to starve. (Jugurtha nonetheless meets his fate with great courage). In Fortune's Favorites, Caesar crucifies 500 pirates who held him for ransom. He makes them set up their own crosses, telling them that if they do it wrong, they will suffer more. The pirate chief nonetheless shirks and gets Caesar to set the cross up. He then grins and jokes (even as he is about to be crucified) that, "I may not be an engineer, but I engineered my executioner into making my cross." Caesar breaks his cheer by saying that for that he will not break his legs, but will leave him to suffocate for days.
And finally, this one calls for some peeking ahead, but it is a biggie. In Fortune's Favorites, Pompey goes to Spain to fight Quintus Sertorius, a follower of Marius who has broken Spain off from Rome and set up his independent country there. Having difficulty with the war, he offers a reward to anyone with information leading to Sertorius' capture. Marcus Peperna Veiento, a trusted follower of Sertorius, gets close enough to him at a feast, kills him, and presents his head to Pompey. Pompey says the reward was for information leading to Sertorius' capture, not for his head. Even when Peperna offers Pompey all of Sertorius' papers, showing who his allies are in Rome who wanted him back, Pompey burns the papers and has Peperna executed. In the future, Caesar and Pompey will wage war and Caesar will win. Pompey will flee to Egypt where he has trusted followers, leaving his papers behind. Caesar will burn them. Pompey's trusted followers in Egypt will kill him and present Caesar with his head. Caesar will be furious and execute them. And this is one that cannot be blamed on the author's fondness for recurring motifs. It is actual historical fact.*
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*Classical historians say that both Caesar and Pompey burned the papers unread. The author has them read the papers, memorize the contents, and then burn them.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Masters of Rome and Prophecy
All of this is a lead-in to my review of the next Masters of Rome book, Fortune's Favorites. Apparently this author originally meant to call her work A Rising Sun, after a comment that Pompey is said to have made when Sulla thought he was too young to celebrate a triumph -- that the people prefer a rising to a setting sun.* It would end (presumably) with Pompey beginning to fear that his own sun was setting and that the new rising sun was Caesar. She ended up taking the name Fortune's Favorites instead. Already by the end of The Grass Crown, characters are using the expression incessantly. She explains that to the Romans Fortune (Fortuna) was a goddess of luck -- impersonal, mysterious and inscrutable, as were all Roman gods,** but not so random and impersonal as the term seems to us today. On the one hand, a successful man made his own luck and could attribute his success to his own efforts. On the other, it was no shame to acknowledge that one did not rise by ability and effort alone, but had a lot of luck along that way. It just showed that one was favored by the goddess.
But the previous two books also tie in with my previous discussion in another way. As in MacBeth, the literary convention is kept -- the prophecy always comes true, but not always in the way that the characters foresee, and sometimes what seems to be a blessing turns out to be a curse.
In First Man in Rome, Marius has his fortune told, and the fortune teller foresees a glorious future for him -- he will be a great war hero, hailed as Third Founder of Rome, and serve as consul and unprecedented seven times. (This, or some other omen that he will be consul seven times is from Plutarch).*** Seen on the surface, this looks like a glorious destiny. But looking deeper, it turns out to be one of those blessings that turns into a curse. Marius saves Rome from the Germans, serves six times as consul, and is hailed as war hero, savior of Rome, and Third Founder. If he had not heard the prophecy, no doubt he would retire, basking the glow of the people's gratitude and his role as beloved elder statesman. But he has heard the prophecy and becomes obsessed with being consul a seventh time. His seventh consulate would last 13 days (six spent on his death bed from a stroke), by which time he had gone completely mad and embarks on a mad orgy of slaughter and carnage. If he had known, while in his right mind, what his seventh consulate would be like, one trusts that he would have killed himself before letting it come about.
Rather different and much less supernatural is the prophecy in The Grass Crown. Marcus Livius Drusus, the non-protagonist hero, is implementing a spectacular series of much-needed reforms, but is stopped short when he proposes citizenship for Rome's Italian allies. One of Drusus' enemies warns of evil omens against him. No one is impressed. He then searches the length and breadth of the entire Italian peninsula for every misfortune or evil omen that takes place on a date that Drusus introduced any of his measures, finds plenty (unsurprisingly), and persuades the frightened Senate to repeal them. To the modern reader, it is obvious that if you search the entire Italian peninsula, it is large enough that you will find something bad happening somewhere every single day. Just take the ones that happen on the dates Drusus introduces his reforms, ignore the others, and you will come up with something very scary-looking. But in fact there is no real pattern there, only a pattern that people have superimposed on random events. The modern world has a term for this -- paranoia.
But of course no Roman, not even a skeptic, would dare say such a thing openly. Scaurus, one of Drusus' allies hints at it, saying that no one has ever searched the entire Italian peninsula for omens before, and that he has never seen any omen that people could not read however they wanted. When Scaurus' shocked friend, a priest, asks him doesn't he believe in omens, Scaurus says that he believes that the gods send us omens, but he does not believe in men's ability to read them right. As for Drusus,when confronted with all these ill omens, he can only say that they are warnings of what will happen if his program (particularly citizenship for the Italians) is not enacted.
And ultimately Drusus is right. Although the modern reader still remains confident that the ill omens throughout Italy are random and meaningless, simply routine misfortunes plucked out of countless other meaningless misfortunes to impose a non-existent pattern, the looming disaster is real enough. Drusus' program is repealed and he is assassinated, thwarting his goal of admitting the Italians to citizenship. And all the foretold evils do, in fact, come true as the Italian Allies revolt. The remainder of The Grass Crown describes the disasters that befall Rome as a result. And Fortune's Favorites is a further continuation.
_____________________________________________________
*This is, of course, a terribly impolitic thing to say, implying as it does that Sulla is a setting sun.
**This is an important theme.
***The author adds a prophecy of her own, that his wife's nephew will exceed him, and makes Marius determined to prevent this outcome, but that is her own invention.
But the previous two books also tie in with my previous discussion in another way. As in MacBeth, the literary convention is kept -- the prophecy always comes true, but not always in the way that the characters foresee, and sometimes what seems to be a blessing turns out to be a curse.
In First Man in Rome, Marius has his fortune told, and the fortune teller foresees a glorious future for him -- he will be a great war hero, hailed as Third Founder of Rome, and serve as consul and unprecedented seven times. (This, or some other omen that he will be consul seven times is from Plutarch).*** Seen on the surface, this looks like a glorious destiny. But looking deeper, it turns out to be one of those blessings that turns into a curse. Marius saves Rome from the Germans, serves six times as consul, and is hailed as war hero, savior of Rome, and Third Founder. If he had not heard the prophecy, no doubt he would retire, basking the glow of the people's gratitude and his role as beloved elder statesman. But he has heard the prophecy and becomes obsessed with being consul a seventh time. His seventh consulate would last 13 days (six spent on his death bed from a stroke), by which time he had gone completely mad and embarks on a mad orgy of slaughter and carnage. If he had known, while in his right mind, what his seventh consulate would be like, one trusts that he would have killed himself before letting it come about.
Rather different and much less supernatural is the prophecy in The Grass Crown. Marcus Livius Drusus, the non-protagonist hero, is implementing a spectacular series of much-needed reforms, but is stopped short when he proposes citizenship for Rome's Italian allies. One of Drusus' enemies warns of evil omens against him. No one is impressed. He then searches the length and breadth of the entire Italian peninsula for every misfortune or evil omen that takes place on a date that Drusus introduced any of his measures, finds plenty (unsurprisingly), and persuades the frightened Senate to repeal them. To the modern reader, it is obvious that if you search the entire Italian peninsula, it is large enough that you will find something bad happening somewhere every single day. Just take the ones that happen on the dates Drusus introduces his reforms, ignore the others, and you will come up with something very scary-looking. But in fact there is no real pattern there, only a pattern that people have superimposed on random events. The modern world has a term for this -- paranoia.
But of course no Roman, not even a skeptic, would dare say such a thing openly. Scaurus, one of Drusus' allies hints at it, saying that no one has ever searched the entire Italian peninsula for omens before, and that he has never seen any omen that people could not read however they wanted. When Scaurus' shocked friend, a priest, asks him doesn't he believe in omens, Scaurus says that he believes that the gods send us omens, but he does not believe in men's ability to read them right. As for Drusus,when confronted with all these ill omens, he can only say that they are warnings of what will happen if his program (particularly citizenship for the Italians) is not enacted.
And ultimately Drusus is right. Although the modern reader still remains confident that the ill omens throughout Italy are random and meaningless, simply routine misfortunes plucked out of countless other meaningless misfortunes to impose a non-existent pattern, the looming disaster is real enough. Drusus' program is repealed and he is assassinated, thwarting his goal of admitting the Italians to citizenship. And all the foretold evils do, in fact, come true as the Italian Allies revolt. The remainder of The Grass Crown describes the disasters that befall Rome as a result. And Fortune's Favorites is a further continuation.
_____________________________________________________
*This is, of course, a terribly impolitic thing to say, implying as it does that Sulla is a setting sun.
**This is an important theme.
***The author adds a prophecy of her own, that his wife's nephew will exceed him, and makes Marius determined to prevent this outcome, but that is her own invention.
MacBeth and Prophecy
In the meantime, our Shakespeare group has started reading MacBeth. The story should be familiar as is its central, unsolveable riddle. The three Weird Sisters (it is unclear whether they are flesh and blood or spirits) greet MacBeth and hail him as Thane (lord) of Glamis, Thane of Cawdor, and King to be. MacBeth is Thane of Glamis, but thinks it impossible for him to become Thane of Cawdor, much less King. But then it turns out that the Thane of Cawdor was part of a rebellion that MacBeth just defeated and MacBeth is given his title. Suddenly kingship is within his grasp. He goes on to murder the King, frame his bodyguards for the murder and then kill them, attempt to kill the King's sons (although they get away), murder his best friend Banquo who is the only other witness of the prophecy, and then go wild and start killing everyone else who might threaten his power or resent his previous murders. It adds up to quite a body count. So the great question is, did the Weird Sisters set him off on this course, or was it his choice.
My answer has always been that the Weird Sisters awakened some latent evil impulses in MacBeth that would other wise have lain dormant, but that the evil impulses were there to begin with or they would never have awakened them. And the proof of it is Banquo. The Sisters say that Banquo will be the ancestor of kings, but not a king himself. Banquo leaves the matter to Destiny and makes no attempt to bring it about himself. Banquo is a clear model of what one is supposed to do under the circumstances. MacBeth from the start wavers between leaving it to Destiny and trying to give Destiny a push. (He ends up opting for the push, obviously).
MacBeth is an example of several literary conventions about prophecy. The prophecy always comes true, though not always in the way you expect. Hearing the prophecy often plays a rule in bringing it about. And the prophecy that appears to be a blessing turns out to be a curse. (Given how being King turns out for MacBeth, it seems fair to say that it was not worth having).
But I actually mostly want to post about several words that could be used to characterize the prophecy and the things that come about beyond our power -- Luck, Chance, Fortune, Fate and Destiny.* All of these mean things that come about beyond our power to influence, but they are not the same. My Shakespeare discussion group has used several of these words and particularly explored what they would mean in an Elizabethan context, but I don't see how one case use them today except to mean what they are understood today. And interestingly enough, no one else seems to be using my favored word here -- Destiny.
Chance gets used a lot, including by MacBeth. ("If Chance will have me king, why Chance may crown me.") I would classify Chance, along with Luck and Fortune as not only impersonal, but random and purposeless. Things that happen by chance (or luck or fortune) do not happen for any reason or as part of a greater design, they just happen. They are beyond our control, but they do not imply any superintending purpose, or anything that is meant to be. Chance comes out of nowhere for no reason and that is all. What makes Chance different from Luck or Fortune is that it is a more neutral term. There is nothing to suggest that things that happen by chance are either good or bad, they just happen. And while there can be bad luck or bad fortune, for the most part these terms mean something good that just happens to happen -- an unexpected windfall that comes your way for no apparent reason. To the extent there is a difference between them, it is probably that Fortune has at least some connotation of being all-encompassing, while Luck usually means just a single event. In addition to Chance, our group has talked a lot about Fortune, often personified as a fickle goddess.
Which means that Fortune is beginning to veer off in the direction of Fate or Destiny. These terms, I would say, do not mean just random happenstance. They mean things that are meant to happen, often as part of some grand design beyond our comprehension. Neither term is neutral. Fate means something bad that cannot be escaped. These days it is often equated with doom or death. Destiny, by contrast, implies something grand and glorious. Thus it is the term I use when applied to MacBeth. He does not see becoming King as a random event, but a part of some grand design. That rules out Chance, Luck, or even Fortune. He does not see it as doom, but as something glorious. That rules out Fate. Therefore, the best description of what he sees in the prophecy is Destiny, and his great error is trying to give Destiny a push.
But, of course, one of the great conventions of prophecy is that, although it always comes true, how it comes true is not always what you think. What seems like a blessing is often a curse. And what MacBeth takes to be Destiny turns out to be Fate.
______________________________________
*I capitalize them because they are being treated, not exactly as gods and certainly not as personal, but as things so powerful that people have little choice but to prostrate themselves before them.
My answer has always been that the Weird Sisters awakened some latent evil impulses in MacBeth that would other wise have lain dormant, but that the evil impulses were there to begin with or they would never have awakened them. And the proof of it is Banquo. The Sisters say that Banquo will be the ancestor of kings, but not a king himself. Banquo leaves the matter to Destiny and makes no attempt to bring it about himself. Banquo is a clear model of what one is supposed to do under the circumstances. MacBeth from the start wavers between leaving it to Destiny and trying to give Destiny a push. (He ends up opting for the push, obviously).
MacBeth is an example of several literary conventions about prophecy. The prophecy always comes true, though not always in the way you expect. Hearing the prophecy often plays a rule in bringing it about. And the prophecy that appears to be a blessing turns out to be a curse. (Given how being King turns out for MacBeth, it seems fair to say that it was not worth having).
But I actually mostly want to post about several words that could be used to characterize the prophecy and the things that come about beyond our power -- Luck, Chance, Fortune, Fate and Destiny.* All of these mean things that come about beyond our power to influence, but they are not the same. My Shakespeare discussion group has used several of these words and particularly explored what they would mean in an Elizabethan context, but I don't see how one case use them today except to mean what they are understood today. And interestingly enough, no one else seems to be using my favored word here -- Destiny.
Chance gets used a lot, including by MacBeth. ("If Chance will have me king, why Chance may crown me.") I would classify Chance, along with Luck and Fortune as not only impersonal, but random and purposeless. Things that happen by chance (or luck or fortune) do not happen for any reason or as part of a greater design, they just happen. They are beyond our control, but they do not imply any superintending purpose, or anything that is meant to be. Chance comes out of nowhere for no reason and that is all. What makes Chance different from Luck or Fortune is that it is a more neutral term. There is nothing to suggest that things that happen by chance are either good or bad, they just happen. And while there can be bad luck or bad fortune, for the most part these terms mean something good that just happens to happen -- an unexpected windfall that comes your way for no apparent reason. To the extent there is a difference between them, it is probably that Fortune has at least some connotation of being all-encompassing, while Luck usually means just a single event. In addition to Chance, our group has talked a lot about Fortune, often personified as a fickle goddess.
Which means that Fortune is beginning to veer off in the direction of Fate or Destiny. These terms, I would say, do not mean just random happenstance. They mean things that are meant to happen, often as part of some grand design beyond our comprehension. Neither term is neutral. Fate means something bad that cannot be escaped. These days it is often equated with doom or death. Destiny, by contrast, implies something grand and glorious. Thus it is the term I use when applied to MacBeth. He does not see becoming King as a random event, but a part of some grand design. That rules out Chance, Luck, or even Fortune. He does not see it as doom, but as something glorious. That rules out Fate. Therefore, the best description of what he sees in the prophecy is Destiny, and his great error is trying to give Destiny a push.
But, of course, one of the great conventions of prophecy is that, although it always comes true, how it comes true is not always what you think. What seems like a blessing is often a curse. And what MacBeth takes to be Destiny turns out to be Fate.
______________________________________
*I capitalize them because they are being treated, not exactly as gods and certainly not as personal, but as things so powerful that people have little choice but to prostrate themselves before them.
NYPD and Work Slowdown
I have somewhat conflicted thoughts about the NYPD's work slowdown. In an effort to coerce the Mayor and city government of New York, they are conducting a sort of semi-strike. Until it resolves, they will make arrests only for major crimes. Apparently total arrests have fallen to a third of the usual number, traffic citations by 94%, summonses for low-level offenses like public drinking and urination by 94%, traffic tickets by 92%, and drug arrests by 84%.
My first thought, really, was of my adolescence in Rochester, New York. When the police there were unhappy with the terms of their contract but forbidden to go on strike, instead they launched a ticket blitz, i.e., they enforced every traffic and other regulation no matter how minor. To some libertarians, an increase in nuisance crime is a small price to pay for restraining the evil power of the government. But I agree with Conor Friedersdorf,* who calls himself a libertarian, but rejects the basic viewpoint that all laws imply police violence in enforcement:
Presumably the slowdown is based on the broken windows theory that Rudy Giuliani and his supporters credit for New York's reduction in crime -- cracking down on all crimes, no matter how small, will prevent escalation to larger crimes. And in the first week of the slowdown, major crimes have fallen by 15%. Just as the first year in which Mayor DeBlasio cut back on stop-and-frisk, crime continued to fall. In other words, if the police are trying to unleash a crime wave and make the city quake in its boots, it isn't working.
Some important qualifications are at work here. The broken windows theory of crime is a slow-acting one. No one claims that a major crackdown on minor offenses will produce and immediate reduction in major offenses, or that letting minor offenses go will have any immediate effect on major offenses. The 15% drop over the week is presumably just statistical "noise," mostly attributable to cold and people staying inside. Possibly a factor may be that the police slowdown has made peaceful and orderly behavior seem defiant and transgressive in the black community -- a way of showing that police that we are not ravening hoards that only the thin blue line can hold at bay. Failure to enforce laws against public urination and so forth may bring about a troubling decline in quality of life that takes effect much faster than any potential increase in major crime. But for right now the slowdown seems no more than a manageable nuisance, not enough to create serious pressure.
Except for one thing. Fines for minor offenses are a major source of revenue. That is where the real, immediate leverage comes from. The old standby, hit them in the pocketbook. Now there is a real source of pressure! It has also been commented (won't bother looking for links) that this is what happens when tax increases become politically impossible and service cuts wildly unpopular. Squeezing the poor with speed traps and the like becomes a hidden revenue source that lets us avoid serious debate about the tradeoff between taxes and services.
So that raises the ultimate question -- what do the police want. Just as we can debate what quality-of-life matters (like public urination) are within the legitimate purview of the police separately from how they should be enforced, we can debate the slowdown as such independently of what its objectives are. Do the police even know what its objectives are? Friedersdorf suggests that what they are most likely to get are fairly conventional labor concessions -- increased pensions, more agreeable work rules, or stronger protection from firing. Well, these things are not all alike. Increased pensions or other benefits are purely an economic and financial issue -- what can the city afford. Friedersdorf expresses concern that work rules might make the department less "efficient." They also might (or might not) interfere with reforms intended to reduce conflict with the community. And protection from firing will stand in the way of the important business of being able to weed out abusive cops.***
But even at its worst, labor demands belong in a different category altogether from "political" demands. In other words, are the New York police attempting to use their slowdown to dictate Mayor DeBlasio's policy? And if so, what do they want? An apology? A statement of unequivocal support? A promise never to speak to Al Sharpton again? License to crush any future demonstrations by brute force? A pledge never to criticize the police again? A promise to make no further attempts to hold any cop accountable, no matter what? I am well aware that not all these things are equivalent, and some of them are probably extreme enough that the police would never voice them openly. But those of us on the outside get the distinct impression that this sort of thing is what the police really want. And surely the police must understand that if this is what they want, Mayor DeBlasio cannot be seen as capitulating. One of the most basic principles of the rule of law is at stake here -- civilian control over the use of force.
So labor concessions, even ill-advised ones, are one thing. Quiet attempts to sooth ruffled feathers are one thing. Even quiet agreements to be more discreet in the future and consult with the police in advance and take their views into account in public statements (though not to give them a veto over public statements) might be tolerated. But any attempt by police to dictate policy is an intolerable challenge to civilian control. It is, in the words of Friedersdorf, "an armed, organized army rebelling against civilian control."
______________________________________
*Friedersdorf considers himself a libertarian, but is so moderate that after dealing with hard core types, one really has to question the label.
**Not just because they are victimless crimes, but because intensive levels of scrutiny are needed to catch drug offenders and the violence is commonly intense when large amounts of money are at stake,
***In college I heard a fascinating talk by former Black Panther Bobby Seale and their attempts to cut back on police brutality by surveilling the police. It did not take long to discover that even in the worst neighborhoods, a small percentage of cops accounted for most of the police brutality. The Black Panthers soon learned which ones they were and who to keep a close eye on -- and which ones could be trusted.
My first thought, really, was of my adolescence in Rochester, New York. When the police there were unhappy with the terms of their contract but forbidden to go on strike, instead they launched a ticket blitz, i.e., they enforced every traffic and other regulation no matter how minor. To some libertarians, an increase in nuisance crime is a small price to pay for restraining the evil power of the government. But I agree with Conor Friedersdorf,* who calls himself a libertarian, but rejects the basic viewpoint that all laws imply police violence in enforcement:
Others, like me, don't object to strictly enforcing laws against, say, public urination, traffic violations, or illegal parking, but would love it if the NYPD stopped frisking innocents without probable cause or even reasonable suspicion, needlessly escalating encounters with civilians, and (especially) killing unarmed people, goals that are perfectly compatible with data-driven policing that targets actual disorder.In other words, what laws one enforces and how one enforces them are separate issues and can be debated independently. It may be that drug laws are inherently oppressive** and that the severity needed to enforce them is simply not worth the effort, while bans on public urination offer an improvement in quality of life well outweighing any burden of enforcement.
Presumably the slowdown is based on the broken windows theory that Rudy Giuliani and his supporters credit for New York's reduction in crime -- cracking down on all crimes, no matter how small, will prevent escalation to larger crimes. And in the first week of the slowdown, major crimes have fallen by 15%. Just as the first year in which Mayor DeBlasio cut back on stop-and-frisk, crime continued to fall. In other words, if the police are trying to unleash a crime wave and make the city quake in its boots, it isn't working.
Some important qualifications are at work here. The broken windows theory of crime is a slow-acting one. No one claims that a major crackdown on minor offenses will produce and immediate reduction in major offenses, or that letting minor offenses go will have any immediate effect on major offenses. The 15% drop over the week is presumably just statistical "noise," mostly attributable to cold and people staying inside. Possibly a factor may be that the police slowdown has made peaceful and orderly behavior seem defiant and transgressive in the black community -- a way of showing that police that we are not ravening hoards that only the thin blue line can hold at bay. Failure to enforce laws against public urination and so forth may bring about a troubling decline in quality of life that takes effect much faster than any potential increase in major crime. But for right now the slowdown seems no more than a manageable nuisance, not enough to create serious pressure.
Except for one thing. Fines for minor offenses are a major source of revenue. That is where the real, immediate leverage comes from. The old standby, hit them in the pocketbook. Now there is a real source of pressure! It has also been commented (won't bother looking for links) that this is what happens when tax increases become politically impossible and service cuts wildly unpopular. Squeezing the poor with speed traps and the like becomes a hidden revenue source that lets us avoid serious debate about the tradeoff between taxes and services.
So that raises the ultimate question -- what do the police want. Just as we can debate what quality-of-life matters (like public urination) are within the legitimate purview of the police separately from how they should be enforced, we can debate the slowdown as such independently of what its objectives are. Do the police even know what its objectives are? Friedersdorf suggests that what they are most likely to get are fairly conventional labor concessions -- increased pensions, more agreeable work rules, or stronger protection from firing. Well, these things are not all alike. Increased pensions or other benefits are purely an economic and financial issue -- what can the city afford. Friedersdorf expresses concern that work rules might make the department less "efficient." They also might (or might not) interfere with reforms intended to reduce conflict with the community. And protection from firing will stand in the way of the important business of being able to weed out abusive cops.***
But even at its worst, labor demands belong in a different category altogether from "political" demands. In other words, are the New York police attempting to use their slowdown to dictate Mayor DeBlasio's policy? And if so, what do they want? An apology? A statement of unequivocal support? A promise never to speak to Al Sharpton again? License to crush any future demonstrations by brute force? A pledge never to criticize the police again? A promise to make no further attempts to hold any cop accountable, no matter what? I am well aware that not all these things are equivalent, and some of them are probably extreme enough that the police would never voice them openly. But those of us on the outside get the distinct impression that this sort of thing is what the police really want. And surely the police must understand that if this is what they want, Mayor DeBlasio cannot be seen as capitulating. One of the most basic principles of the rule of law is at stake here -- civilian control over the use of force.
So labor concessions, even ill-advised ones, are one thing. Quiet attempts to sooth ruffled feathers are one thing. Even quiet agreements to be more discreet in the future and consult with the police in advance and take their views into account in public statements (though not to give them a veto over public statements) might be tolerated. But any attempt by police to dictate policy is an intolerable challenge to civilian control. It is, in the words of Friedersdorf, "an armed, organized army rebelling against civilian control."
______________________________________
*Friedersdorf considers himself a libertarian, but is so moderate that after dealing with hard core types, one really has to question the label.
**Not just because they are victimless crimes, but because intensive levels of scrutiny are needed to catch drug offenders and the violence is commonly intense when large amounts of money are at stake,
***In college I heard a fascinating talk by former Black Panther Bobby Seale and their attempts to cut back on police brutality by surveilling the police. It did not take long to discover that even in the worst neighborhoods, a small percentage of cops accounted for most of the police brutality. The Black Panthers soon learned which ones they were and who to keep a close eye on -- and which ones could be trusted.
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