Gutenberg and Printing: A View from Strasbourg

Strasbourg, France, where I now live, is justly proud of Johannes Gutenberg (about 1406-1468), who invented the printing press. He was born in Mainz, nearby in what is now Germany, and returned to it later, but his crucial first steps in developing the printing press were taken in Strasbourg, where a statue and a plaza commemorate him. I have posted a YouTube video, from Strasbourg, France, about Gutenberg.

One would think that Gutenberg’s idea for a printing press would have been a flash of insight that everyone would have immediately appreciated. But he did his initial work as a sideline and without funding from other people, as far as we know. His main work seems to have been as a goldsmith, polishing gems, and making mirrors. He got his idea for the printing press from another kind of press: the wine-press, which removed juice from grapes. Perhaps if he had just stuck to his polishing and mirrors, or had gone into the wine-press business, he might have had fewer financial setbacks. At least, the return on investment was very slow. His few major investors sued him. But, if Gutenberg had not persisted, the world would not have had what is now widely considered one of its most important inventions.

As a result of the printing press, ideas could now be publicized through a large number of copies, rather than copied by hand or by meticulous engravings that were affordable only for illustrations. Gutenberg developed an alloy of lead, tin, and antimony that could be melted and re-used. The greater number of copies allowed the written ideas to spread more widely and gain a recognition that they would not otherwise have had, or had only after a long delay.

 

 

Some examples of such ideas, themselves changing the course of history, are depicted on panels on the Gutenberg monument. One of them shows the signing of the American Declaration of Independence, with a Gutenberg press squarely and symbolically in the middle of the Continental Congress. Copies of the Declaration then spread around the world, where they stirred the ideas of liberty and democracy more than any handwritten document could have done.

 

Another example is the idea of emancipation of slaves and the end of the institution of slavery. Were it not for the printing press, relatively few people would have been aware of how cruel a system slavery was. Anti-slavery documents stirred the hearts of good people and embarrassed those who owned or profited from slavery. This plaque graphically depicts the cruelty of slavery.

Another example is education. The ideas and works of all kinds of intellectuals, from Descartes to Kant to Mozart to Milton to Newton, might have been lost had it not been for the printing press making their creations widely available. As the plaque shows, it was almost entirely white male creators who benefited from this, but the spread of knowledge was a process which, once started, could not be restrained.

 

Who knows what great ideas might be lost even today because, even if published, go unnoticed. How much worse it would be had there been no way to publish them. This shows the important role that chance plays in evolutionary adaptation (in this case, cultural evolution).

Happiness Is Fill in the Blank

I’ve been looking through a dull but well-intentioned book from 1937, 101 of the World’s Greatest Books. That is, five to ten page summaries of them. They were the ones you would expect from the era which continued with Great Books of the Western World, whose numerous volumes filled many library shelves even in small towns because teachers and librarians thought these were the books that everyone ought to know about to be considered educated. Great novels, epic stories, great scholarly works, great plays, great works of philosophy, almost all of which were outdated even in 1937. I wasn’t expecting much, not having much interest in the classical authors (Dante was especially silly), but just in case I missed something, I wanted to check.

Rather than to discuss the summaries of the “great” philosophers, which would lull you to sleep, I have chosen one narrow question: What is happiness?

Aristotle answered this question in a prolonged and painful contemplation of the obvious. His was the doctrine of the golden mean, which says that happiness is where you have enough, but not too much, of everything, from wealth to strength. Is there anyone who didn’t already know this? Some people act as if the right amount of sexual pleasure is as much as possible, but even they get worn out once in a while, and they will probably admit this. Some people act as if the right amount of sexual pleasure is none at all, not even accidental thoughts of sex. They are not happy, protestations notwithstanding. But the vast majority of humans already live by the doctrine of the golden mean. I certainly do.

While the golden mean seems obvious, there are lots of people who say that happiness is different for every person. Let me cite, rather than a philosopher, the mid-century musician Ray Coniff, whose song said that “Happiness is different things to different people” (“To a beatnik, it’s a beard, beard, beard…”) In the 1960s, when as a little kid I was absorbing television, I heard the tobacco corporation version: “To a landlord, it’s a great big rent, to a smoker, it’s a Kent.” (I’ve never heard this song on the radio since the 1960s. I assume the tobacco company bought the rights to the original song and is hoarding them.)

I think we all, regardless of philosophy or religion, know that there must be some universals to happiness (except among psychopaths). And, I maintain, many of these universals match the behaviors and feelings produced in our species by evolution. We can only be truly happy when we can honestly feel we are doing the right things with our lives—that is, altruism. We actually enjoy being good (up to a point), and having allies rather than having only enemies and competitors. And having a sense of purpose—which is also the product of evolution—and not just disconnected events.

Happiness is, therefore, not just whatever rings our bells, or floats our boats, or tickles our fancy, or verbs our object. It is a product of evolution, just like language and toenails and the cockles of your heart.

As Always, Mark Twain

 

In the previous essay, I tried my hand at humorous creativity to shoot down the idea that a benevolent God is in control of the world. But who was I to think I could do a better job than Samuel Langhorne Clemens, known as Mark Twain?

I looked through a collection of Twain’s unpublished writings. He left as many unpublished scribbled sheets as he did published books, if not more. This demonstrates that the success rate of a genius (assuming that is what he was) is probably below fifty percent. In many cases, I can see that these works were unpublishable. They just did not have the compelling wit of his more famous works. Especially in his declining years, he simply did not work as hard as he could have. Genius is not enough; discipline is necessary.

A recurring theme in his unpublished writings is that, if there is a God, He must be cruel. In his essay Thoughts of God, Twain tried to analyze the twisted thought processes of a God who could create the fly. God’s commission to the fly: “Persecute the sick child; settle upon its eyes, its face, its hands, and gnaw and pester and sting…Settle upon the soldier’s festering wounds in field and hospital and drive him frantic while he also prays…” And the plague victim: “sting, feed upon his ulcers, dabble your feet in his rotten blood, gums them thick with plague germs…” At least with humans there is the hope, or delusion, of life after death, but animals suffer from flies, “…all the kindly animals that labor without fair reward here and perish without hope of it hereafter…”

Twain then attacks the idea that, when humans help one another, they are doing God’s work. Twain could not have known John F. Kennedy would say, “Here on Earth, God’s work must tryly be our own.” Twain just considers human good deeds to be God taking credit for someone else’s good work. The only italicized passage says, “There was never yet a case of suffering or sorrow which God could not relieve.” If it is a sin to withhold help when we can give it, God must be a cosmic sinner.

In another essay, In My Bitterness (written when Twain was still bitter about the death in 1896 of his daughter Olivia (Susy) of meningitis), he wrote, “He gives you a healthy body and you are tricked into thanking Him for it; some day, when He has rotted it with disease and made it a hell of pains, you will know why He did it…He may tear the palpitating heart out of your breast and slap you in the face with it.”

In a story at the end of The Refuge of the Derelicts, Twain writes about the cruelty of the spider sucking the life out of her victims, and even her husband, and then along comes a wasp and lays an egg on the spider. The wasp grub “gnawed a hole in the spider’s abdomen, and began to suck her juices while she moaned and wept…” The wasp grub eats the spider from the inside, leaving it alive until the last miserable moment. The wasp was “radiant with that spiritual joy which is the result of duty done.”

Theodicy is the intellectual discipline of making excuses for God. You would think that it would by now have gone extinct. But humans want to believe, despite all evidence, that God is good. That is certainly what I want to believe, but, as Twain would have said, wanting don’t make it so.

Philosophical Debate of Two Fetuses

I recently became aware, years later than everyone else, about a story that religious people use to “prove” that there can be life after death. It is about two twin fetuses in a womb. One of them is an agnostic, the other a believer, in Life After Birth. The same reasoning used by the two fetuses could be used by us in our discussions of Life After Death. It is a really clever story.

The skeptical fetus says, “What evidence is there for life after birth? We have not seen the outside world, even if there is one, nor has anyone come back into the womb to tell us about it.” The other fetus maintains his/her faith in Life After Birth. The believer insisted that there was such a thing as a “mother.

The conclusion of this story is that just because we cannot see into the afterlife, and just because nobody has come back from it doesn’t prove that there is no such thing as Life After Death. I have no problem admitting that there might be. If the unitary universe theory is true, then it is more than a possibility, but a certainty, even though by this theory we are trapped in our infinitesimal slice of time.

As far as this argument goes, there is nothing wrong with it. But most religious people do not want the rest of us to merely assent to the possibility of life after death. They make claims about the specific content of life after death, and that you ought to believe this content. Things about Heaven and Hell, saints flying amidst clouds, the gates of Heaven, etc. These specific beliefs are unprovable at best and in many cases ridiculous, as Mark Twain showed in Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven.

But fundamentalists take it much further. To illustrate the point, let us continue the story of the two fetuses.

Both fetuses are born, and discover that there is, in fact, Life After Birth. And the Mother somehow knows which fetus was the believer, and which was the skeptic. She holds up the believer, swaddles it in rich clothing, kisses it, and declares that it is the heir of all of her considerable fortune.

Then she turns to the other fetus. “So, little one, you doubted my existence? Here’s what I’m going to do to you. I am going to skewer you and roast you forever over a fire. Your body juices will drip down into the flame, but you will never run out of body juices, because I will continually renew them. You cannot faint, for I will keep you awake. Forever. As punishment for not believing in Life After Birth.

“And if you had believed in Life After Birth, but believed something incorrect about it, it wouldn’t have done you any good. I would still roast you forever in conscious agony.”

“But, how could I have known?” asked the agnostic fetus.

“Your sibling told you,” answered the Mother.

“But how should my sibling have any more credibility than I?”

“Invalid question. Now, let’s get started. Angels, bring me a skewer!”

“But why are you doing this?”

“Because I FREAKING LOVE YOU, that’s why. Now, this is going to hurt as much as possible…”

I could go on, but you get the point. Fundamentalists sometimes use arguments that seem clever, until you start asking questions about them.

Gutenberg and Printing: A View from Strasbourg

Strasbourg, France, where I now live, is justly proud of Johannes Gutenberg (about 1406-1468), who invented the printing press. He was born in Mainz, nearby in what is now Germany, and returned to it later, but his crucial first steps in developing the printing press were taken in Strasbourg, where a statue and a plaza commemorate him.

One would think that Gutenberg’s idea for a printing press would have been a flash of insight that everyone would have immediately appreciated. But he did his initial work as a sideline and without funding from other people, as far as we know. His main work seems to have been as a goldsmith, polishing gems, and making mirrors. He got his idea for the printing press from another kind of press: the wine-press, which removed juice from grapes. Perhaps if he had just stuck to his polishing and mirrors, or had gone into the wine-press business, he might have had fewer financial setbacks. At least, the return on investment was very slow. His few major investors sued him. But, if Gutenberg had not persisted, the world would not have had what is now widely considered one of its most important inventions.

As a result of the printing press, ideas could now be publicized through a large number of copies, rather than copied by hand or by meticulous engravings that were affordable only for illustrations. Gutenberg developed an alloy of lead, tin, and antimony that could be melted and re-used. The greater number of copies allowed the written ideas to spread more widely and gain a recognition that they would not otherwise have had, or had only after a long delay.

Some examples of such ideas, themselves changing the course of history, are depicted on panels on the Gutenberg monument. One of them shows the signing of the American Declaration of Independence, with a Gutenberg press squarely and symbolically in the middle of the Continental Congress. Copies of the Declaration then spread around the world, where they stirred the ideas of liberty and democracy more than any handwritten document could have done.

Another example is the idea of emancipation of slaves and the end of the institution of slavery. Were it not for the printing press, relatively few people would have been aware of how cruel a system slavery was. Anti-slavery documents stirred the hearts of good people and embarrassed those who owned or profited from slavery. This plaque graphically depicts the cruelty of slavery.

Another example is education. The ideas and works of all kinds of intellectuals, from Descartes to Kant to Mozart to Milton to Newton, might have been lost had it not been for the printing press making their creations widely available. As the plaque shows, it was almost entirely white male creators who benefited from this, but the spread of knowledge was a process which, once started, could not be restrained.

Who knows what great ideas might be lost even today because, even if published, go unnoticed. How much worse it would be had there been no way to publish them.