Friday, October 27, 2017

In Memoriam: Robert Henderson, 1923-2017

Robert Maurice Henderson passed away in Lenox, Massachusetts, on October 16, 2017, the morning of his 68th wedding anniversary. Wife, Aleva, and son, Jack, were by his side. He was four days shy of his 94th birthday.



Born in Livingston, Montana, October 16, 1923, and raised just over the mountains in Bozeman, Bob was a consummate cowboy. Raising and caring for horses in his early years gave him compassion for animals and a high regard for nature and all its wonders. Bob's father, Maurice's career in public service, ultimately retiring as city manager of Bozeman, MT and Colonel in the Montana National Guard as well as the example of his mother, Grace, a former school teacher and community volunteer, taught Bob the value of hard work and sound ethics. Throughout his life people turned to Bob for good advice and leadership. Bob attended Montana State College (now MSU). He paused his education during WWII for service in the Army Air Corps but returned to MSC to complete his engineering degree and as he would always be first to acknowledge, most fortunate to meet the young nursing student who would become the love of his life, Aleva Benjamin. Aleva ultimately attained a degree in dietetics and Bob in mechanical engineering. They married in Bozeman, MT, October 16, 1949.





Bob started his career at Westinghouse in Portland, OR, where four of his five children were born but moved to Massachusetts to work at Dalton's E.D. Jones Division of Beloit Corporation in large paper machinery sales and engineering. His success in sales could be attributed to his adeptness at listening and his ability to provide and execute solutions for his customers' needs. Their fifth child was born in Pittsfield.



Bob stayed in paper machinery sales and engineering with ED Jones/Beloit Corporation then went to Bielomatic, a German enterprise and finally, Clark Aiken, Lee, MA, where he bought the business which he eventually sold to a German concern. Bob never really retired, always dabbling in some project or another. He and Aleva lived on Main Street, Stockbridge and were active in the community for over 40 years.



He thoroughly enjoyed his compatriots in the Monday Night Club, The Lenox Club, Monday Lunch Bunch, the Sweater Club and the Stockbridge Golf Club. He sang in the choir at his beloved First Congregational Church of Stockbridge for many years serving as Moderator and supported its varied causes.



He was predeceased by his parents and his sister, Jean Brickley, of Coronado, California.



Bob leaves behind a large, loving family; Wife Aleva, Children: Shelly (Ray); Lexington, MA; Jack, Stockbridge, MA; Chuck (Barb), Ithaca, NY; Sheryl (Bob), La Jolla, CA; Rob (Ali), West Linn, OR, 11 Grandchildren: Sarabeth, San Diego, CA; Kane, West Linn, OR; JB, Boston, MA; Shannon, Denver, CO; Annie, San Francisco, CA; Jessica, West Linn, OR; Eva, San Francisco, CA; Graeme, San Diego, CA; James, Los Angeles, CA; Rori, Ithaca, NY; Matthew Gabler, San Francisco, CA; Nephew, James Robert Brickley, Dana Point, CA; Niece, Joanne Brickley Conroy (James), Stockbridge, MA.



SERVICES: Celebration of Life to be held Friday, November 24th, 4 P.M., First Congregational Church of Stockbridge, 4 Main Street, Stockbridge, MA. Reception immediately following.



In lieu of flowers, please donate to a charity of your choice.



In life, Bob most loved his family, animals, the great outdoors, music and ice cream but nothing will compare to the love he had for Aleva.
Read More

Monday, July 10, 2017

Ethics: Our evolving understanding of animal rights




Photo by Rick Eh? — Used under Creative Commons License



Presented to the Club on Monday evening, December 15, 2003 by William A. Selke



In May [2003], a letter appeared in The Berkshire Eagle as part of a continuing debate as to whether the Housatonic should be stocked with trout or with smallmouth bass. While other writers had argued about the sporting merits of the different breeds, and which fish would survive long enough to be caught, this letter spoke of the "standard of ethical treatment of the stocked trout." Then, a few weeks later, a letter appeared decrying the exploitation of animals in circuses, the writer identifying herself as a member of People for the ETHICAL Treatment of Animals. Was the re-appearance of that word, ethical, coincidence, or was it a manifestation of a vast animal rights conspiracy? This is a report of my findings. That key word, ethical, is defined as: "pertaining to or dealing with morals or the principles of morality: pertaining to right and wrong in conduct." The writers using it were presumably among a growing number who feel, deeply, what is moral and what is right-and-wrong in our relationships with other creatures. Their position has evolved over a considerable period, not steadily, but, it seems, in fits and starts.



Humane folk have probably always been kind to their own animals, and sometimes encouraged others to do the same. Concern about the mistreatment of livery horses led to the founding of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in England in 1824. Right-thinking Americans traveling in England noted the success of that organization, and copied it with the founding of the ASPCA shortly after.



Legal actions in that early period by Henry Berg, a pioneer animal welfare activist, were significant in themselves, but also foreshadowed the philosophical basis of the movement of today. With his urging, the state of New York enacted laws against cruelty to animals. Then in, in 1874, he successfully pressed for the prosecution of an offender. The animal that had been maltreated happened in this case to be a young boy! This incident lead to the formation of the SPCC. But what is significant in the present context is that the law, probably unintentionally, did not distinguish humans from other species as the animals to be protected.



While there was no defense for the starving of horses, some activists moved animal protection in a direction which was not generally acceptable. In Britain in 1975 a militant group founded the Society for the Protection of Animals Liable to Vivisection_ They immediately pushed through Parliament the Cruelty to Animals Act. Though at the time it looked as though the anti-vivisectionists had won, in retrospect, it was fortunate. It brought peace for a number of years to a troubling issue with an act which acknowledged the vital role animals must play in research and in education and is moderate and reasonable. It imposed strict standards, both for the value of the experiments being performed and for the avoidance of needless suffering by the animal, but laboratory practices adapted to them, and there have never been prosecutions under the act.



And so it was for more than half a century. But as medical research intensified in the mid-20th century, and the need grew to test pharmaceuticals, so did the criticism of the increased use of animals in the laboratories. Again the movement starts in England, but the methods used represented a sharp departure from those of the relatively civilized Victorian anti-vivisectionists. A group calling itself the Animal Liberation Front (ALS) took to raiding laboratories, sabotaging experiments, and, in 1972, settling fire to a Hoecht research facility. The leader — one Ronnie Lee — was sentenced to two years in prison for his part. In 1982, an American offshoot — calling itself the Band of Mercy — won the designation of "terrorist" from the FBI.



I recall visiting a cancer research laboratory near Harrogate, England in November in 1978. There was a strange sense of excitement. Workmen were finishing the installation of bars on the windows. Our host explained that several laboratories, including that one, had received warnings that they were to be attacked by protestors. A sign was prominently displayed at the front door reminiscent of those displayed in cars parked in Manhattan reading—"No radio in this car" This sign announced that there were no dogs or cats in the laboratory. Apparently, in the United Kingdom, the intensity of outrage among protestors would depend on the species of the animals whose wellbeing was threatened, with the strongest feelings being for dogs, followed — somewhat diminished — by children, other primates, cats, horses and, far down he list —rodents, which happened to be what were used in that lab. One would wonder how, if the ALF had attacked, the Syrian Golden Hamsters would have enjoyed being liberated in autumn in the West Riding of Yorkshire.



Animal welfare had become a rough game. The goals of these groups were very different from those of the SPCA and Humane Societies. Some of what was appearing was destructive, some seemed silly, and there did not appear to be a clear central principle behind these actions.



In the early seventies, books and papers were published postulating radically new structures of the relationship between humans and animals. In 1975, this lively discussion was crystallized with the publication by Peter Singer, an Australian, now professor of bioethics at Princeton of Animal Liberation, the book which appears to be the bible of the movement. In it, he offers an audacious philosophical basis for the entire field. He wrote that with black liberation, gay liberation and women's liberation, we might have thought we had come to the end of the road. But, "a liberation movement demands an expansion of our moral horizons, so that practices that were previously regarded as natural and inevitable are now seen as intolerable."



In the preface he writes: "This book is about the tyranny of human over nonhuman animals ... causing an amount of pain and suffering that can only be compared with that which resulted the tyranny of white humans over black humans." He decries the sharp difference in our regard for humans and for non-humans. He argues — or his style suggests that he reveals — that all sentient creatures should be treated equally, and that rights we regard as human rights belong to all animals — human and non-human. To set special standards for humans constitutes "speciesism," another unacceptable –ism. He extends protection to octopuses, for certain, and will include jellyfish if research shows them to be deserving. This principle leads to Singer's opposition to any use of animals as food, for entertainment, or as medical laboratory models.



Singer, who is said to approach any subject with "almost adolescently fierce purity," exhibits a certain consistency in applying the idea that humans should not be favored just for being members of that species. Invitations for him to speak at German universities were withdrawn when it was realized that he openly advocated euthanasia for humans who don't measure up, mentally. They saw this as uncomfortably similar to some of the policies of the Third Reich.



Most of us do make a sharp distinction between the rights we grant to humans and those for other species. Even though, by the latest calculation, 98.5 percent, of the DNA of chimpanzees is identical to ours — up from an earlier calculation of 94 percent — we employ chimps in medical research in ways unthinkable for humans.



Speciesism is, indeed, implicit in our ethical judgments. One of the scientific magazines recently told of an entrepreneurial biologist who thought there would be profit to be made with laboratory technique he was developing. He proposed that by uniting humans and chimpanzees in trans-species hybrids he would have a source of more acceptable replacement body parts than those harvested from pigs. He knows that this would not be countenanced on ethical grounds, but he gives, facetiously, as his reason for not proceeding with the business, that he feared being burdened legally to provide education — K through 12 — for such animals.



Singer clearly has honed his responses to what we might regard as flaws in his thinking. When it is pointed out that predators eat other animals, he excuses them on the basis of the digestive limitations of true carnivores. While nature may seem harsh, the zebra, eaten by the lion, suffers only in its dying moments. It thus has a much better life than the endless boredom and discomfort experienced by a pig in a factory farm.



He defends his not pressing for porcine suffrage. He acknowledges that Congress may direct the Department of Agriculture to take steps which influence the lives of pigs, but pigs have insufficient understanding of the platforms of the political parties for them to be able to vote in their own interest. Displaying that consistency for which he is notorious, he states that humans with limited understanding shouldn't be allowed to vote, either.



Singer's basic principle picks up all the old animal welfare issues, including that perennial — vegetarianism. It has had prominent exponents over the years — George Bernard Shaw, Percy Byshe Shelly, as well as, of course, Mohandas Ghandi. Members of my generation [Selke was born in 1922.] were likely to have known young people — perhaps among their own children — who adhered at least temporarily to the restrictions, usually through the influence of a contemporary. That influence in some cases seemed to reflect a reordering in importance of the two basic biological drives. In the public at large, avoidance of cholesterol may be of greater influence than concern for its source.



But it is not the eating of meat that Singer opposes most strongly, rather it is the practices of factory farms, where animals spend their whole short lives penned up, converting feed into saleable flesh. He is surprisingly tolerant of bull-fighting. Unlike beef steers, the fighting bulls enjoy a relatively free and happy life before they enter the ring, and there is always that chance that they can hook a horn into a deserving tormentor.



A baffling number of organizations were formed to bring the world into compliance with the ideal set forth by Singer, but one dominates all others, People for the Ethical Treatment of animals PETA (knowing no better, I'll pronounce the acronym with a long E, both because of the capitalization and because they are opposed to the keeping of pets.) [In 2003] PETA has a membership of 3/4 of a million and an annual budget of 10 million dollars.





Their prominent stands have polarized the public. During the current war, our Navy has been assisted by dolphins and sea lions in safely moving through the Persian Gulf, delivering humanitarian aid to the port of Umm Qasr. These creatures had been trained to find mines and mark them with buoys without coming in contact with them. Twenty-two mines have been detected and destroyed, sparing our vessels. The dolphins are paid 20 pounds of fish each day for their effort. PETA protested placing them in harm's way: the dolphins knew nothing of Iraq, or of Saddam Hussein, and they had not volunteered for that service. More troubling is PETA's raising of a similar objection to the guiding of blind people by dogs.



To influence an impressionable group, PETA has have set up a web-site, PETA Kids. It recently featured items on Tofurky for Thanksgiving, Vegan Candy, and an article on the Young Hero of the Month — a Nevada girl who saw her biology grade fall from A to C when she refused to dissect an earthworm. Her protests to the state legislature led to dissection becoming optional in her school.



The PETA Kids introduction to activism seems more that of a teenage celebrity fan-club than realistic training in influencing a government. They provided to their readers the mail address of the British Prince William — St. James's Palace — so that letters could be sent to him urging the outlawing of fox-hunting. It should be noted that the House of Commons had in June voted overwhelmingly against the sport.



The PETA Kids probably don't share my amusement by one of the listings Google provides when one searches for P-E-T-A. It is "PETA- People who Eat Tasty Animals."



PETA's annual campaign against the use of animals in circuses emphasizes the fact that non-human performers did not choose those jobs. Skeptics might point out that humans — especially young ones — don't have complete choice of their activities, either. In my childhood, piano lessons were imposed on the unwilling by denial of more pleasant activities — playing outside. It seems unlikely that this punitive approach would be effective for training seals. When they are learning to play "America" — or, in the U.K. learning "God Save the Queen" — surely they must be rewarded with fish. Incidentally, I've attended circuses in other lands, but they never featured the virtuoso skills of marine mammals — could it be that other cultures don't have a song which played arythmically would be widely recognized?



Some of PETAs actions seem deliberately confrontational. They petitioned the Florida Department of Education to ban milk drinks from school vending machines, reversing that welcome reform, the elimination of soft drinks. PETA urges die-hard meat-eaters to help save animals by scouring the streets for roadkill. They tout its nutritional benefits — no growth stimulants, no hormones, and none of the antibiotics present in the products of some factory farms.



What more appropriate basis for an ethical principle than the Bible, itself. A group called Fishing Hurts holds that Jesus probably was a vegetarian. They state that he would not fall outside the technical definition of vegetarian by multiplying pieces of fish which were already dead, to feed people who aren't opposed to eating fish. They then state that pre-Gospel account of the miracle mention only bread, as does Jesus himself, as quoted in Mathew, Mark and John. They suggest that fish was added by Greek scribes because, as you recall, the Greek word ixous is the acronym for Jesus Christ Son of God Savior. But was Jesus really a vegetarian? Leonardo didn't show any meat on that long table, and the Gospels make no mention of his eating meat until after the Resurrection, and Fishing Hurts suggests that the accuracy of that observation may not be correct.



PETA didn't reach its position among the many organizations dedicated to animal welfare without some aggressive actions, including a corporate "hostile takeover" which would be admired in a field without the principles we expect in non-profit organizations. The New England Anti-Vivisection Society had an endowment of $8 million dollars. PETA bought 300 voting memberships at $10 each, paid plane fare for members to attend an annual meeting, and ended up the owner. [Editor’s note: If this effort actually took place, it apparently did not succeed. The New England Anti-Vivisection Society is still in business and still has assets worth about $8 million according to their federal Form 990 filed annually.



PETA acknowledges its instigation of some attacks on medical research laboratories. In a New York Times. interview, Alex Pacheo, its cofounder, paraphrased Barry Goldwater, saying, "Arson, property destruction, burglary and theft are acceptable crimes when used for the animal cause."



In the public relations war, they started on some soft targets. Cosmetic companies checked new products for potential irritation with what is called the Draize test in which the products being tested — mascaras, eye shadows — were placed in rabbits’ eyes and the irritation observed for four days. The sympathy that PETA was able to generate with pictures of sweet-looking , unhappy bunnies being used for such frivolous purposes generated anger which was spread against more serious studies.



PETA provides unpublicized support for the ALF, the British group of terrorists, which has announced that its intention is to "economically sabotage the industries of animal exploitaton". Over $45,000 of contributions to PETA by animal lovers was used in the legal defense of one Rodney Coronado, on trial for fire bombing a medical research facility. He was convicted and spent more than four years in prison. ALF burglarized laboratories at the University of Pennsylvania where work was done on head injuries, taking six years of data and vandalizing equipment. When a U of Penn veterinarian not associated with the project spoke in its defense, his office was vandalized. PETA announced that it was "an example to persuade other vivisectionists that it doesn't pay off."



The outlandishness of some of the program of animal liberation is merely entertaining. Citizens were little inconvenienced when the governments of seven states decreed that, henceforth, the purchaser of a dog license is designated the dog's guardian, not its owner. But some see Singer, PETA and their like thinkers as serious threats to our society. One who has sounded the alarm is Kathleen Marquart, founder of PPF, Putting People First, and author of the rather shrill and angry tract, "Animal Scam.” She writes "Though clothed in the moral armor of self-righteousness, animal rights activists show contempt for the lives of people."



She takes no issue with the traditional animal welfare groups, such as the Humane Society and the ASPCA, but warns that unless we resist current trends, medical research will suffer, there will be no guide dogs for the blind, and that untrapped rats will bring back the bubonic plague.



She presents a frightening list of violent acts against medical researchers by a cluster of organizations. In 1981, Fran Trait, of Trans-Species Unlimited (TSU) was convicted of the attempted murder of US Surgical president, Leon Hirsh. ALF took 1000 animals from the University of California-Riverside and damaged computers. They took 264 animals from the University of Oregon. IDA — In Defense of Animals — was linked to threats against 40 university presidents. Northwestern had to provide a bodyguard for a professor of neurobiology. The head of the psychology department at the University of North Carolina received a letter saying "Your brain and your wife's brain will be burned and drilled like you are doing to our lovely animals." All together, over 100 incidents have been reported. These demonstrations and threats have cost medical schools $4.5 million and 33,000 labor hours over five years.



Marquart strongly objects to the Massachusetts law of 1987 which prohibits the release of cats or dogs from pounds except for adoption or return to owner. As an argument for its repeal, she cites the IIFAR — Incurably Ill for Animal Research —  finding that the annual national use of 104,000 dogs and 50,000 cats from pounds saves $80 million over breeding them for the purpose.



She scoffs at any of the betes noirs of the PETA crowd. Rodeos cause an injury rate for calves of only 0.5 percent, less than that of cowboys. She holds that the Eco-dykes are wasting their time protesting against lesbian rodeos. In defense of circuses, she points out that it wouldn't make good sense for owners to endanger animals in which they have much invested. Those animals have a good life, working only 15 to 30 minutes a day, and in the circuses animals live 60 percent longer than the same species does in the wild. Further, she states, circuses help the local economy, advertising in the paper, hiring security personnel and buying from local merchants. These were the reasons not to close down the contaminated spring in Ibsen's Enemy of the People.



Apparently not all Marquart's readers share her views. She stated that the liberationists claim that Adam and Eve wore fig leaves, but, in fact, God clothed them in animal skins. (In the margin of the page in the library copy I consulted, in bold strokes, was written, "Must Check" — now that there isn't a checkout card in the back of a book so without [U.S. Attorney General John] Ashcroft's help, there is no way to guess the identity of the skeptic. Really, the principal reason to miss those cards is that here could be no better recommendation than seeing that [fellow Club member] Jack Spencer had read a book already.) [Editor's Note: The Bible verse in question, Genesis 3:21, reads: “And the Lord God made for Adam and his wife, garments of skins, and clothed them.”]



Is the animal liberation movement, especially Singer's prohibition against favoring our own species, likely to bring about any lasting changes in our world? Moral philosophers hold that the chief test to be applied to any ethical system is to ask if it can be harmonized with what is called common-sense ethics, i.e., with those ethical judgments which, at our best, we feel constrained make, apart from philosophical argument, in our ordinary ethical thinking. In short, are people buying it?



One change we see, even if not wholly in accord with Singer's goals, is the widespread increase of expenditure on pets, lavish even in the new climate of affluence. Two aspects of this trend seem in accord with the blurring — indeed, the elimination — of distinction between people and their pets, or, as we have learned to say, between companions of different species.



First are the new standards of medical and surgical care. In earlier times, when pets became ill, the vet either cured the beloved swiftly and inexpensively, or told the "custodian" that Waggles had to be put down. A recent article in The New Yorker told of a kidney transplant operation performed on a formerly stray cat at the Animal Medical Center in the upper east side in New York . Noteworthy is the fact that the owners (there goes that improper word) of the cat were not wealthy, but they were paying over $5,000 out of their annual family income of less than $50,000 And this for a cat. On my aunt's farm, where I spent many months of my pre-teen summers, a dozen or so nameless barn dwellers earned an occasional dish of milk to supplement their diet of rodents. None of these was ever attended by a vet. For that matter, I'm not sure that any of the three house cats — Whitey, Speed, or Rico — who loitered all day, nibbling at their canned salmon, would ever receive professional attention. I should note that in later years I wondered how and why those three enjoyed the privilege denied the barn cats — surely they weren't the offspring of a feline Sally Hemmings.



Newsweek reported that the average household spent $257 for veterinary care of its dogs in 2001, a 95 percent increase from 1991. This reflects big spending at the likes of the Center for Specialized Veterinary Care in Westbury, L.I., where brain tumor surgery costs $1,650 and corneal transplants $812.



The second innovation is the emphasis on the psychological needs of pets — fulfillment. People see their pets as family members, complete with psychological lives and complexities. America has enriched its children generously with soccer and ballet and computer camp. It follows that dogs, too, should have every chance at fulfillment. In his book, Twelve Months, Four Dogs and Me, Jon Katz tells how each week he drives a couple hundred miles so that his border collies can embrace their destiny, herding sheep at a farm. He states that when he is there, scores of people show up with all sorts of dogs, from avid herding breeds to bewildered mutts. Their owners are all eager to permit them to exercise their atavism. Many owners feel guilty about not doing enough. One woman e-mailed the author: "Is it OK to have a dog and still go to work?” Dog day-care centers have sprung up so that owners can go to work feeling that Max or Maggie enjoy sufficient exercise, stimulation and companionship.



Another area of change is factory farming, and it is inconceivable that these changes will ever be reversed. Surprisingly, Europe has had standards more strict than American practice, and they seem likely to stay ahead of us in this regard. In the European Union, the sizes of cages for laying hens will be increased to 120 square inches, with a perch and a box to lay their eggs, by 2012. In the US, there are no regulations, yet, and the average space is 48 square inches — half the area of an 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper. In a voluntary move, McDonald's has increased the standard for its suppliers 50 percent to 72 square inches. Burger King and Wendy's followed. Under pressure from PeTA, KFC has pledged to increase by 30 percent the space for each of the 350 million chickens they use each year. Penning of calves and an iron-free diet, already illegal in the UK, will be illegal in all of Europe by 2007, so veal will be less tender and less white. The flap about serving fois gras at Tanglewood was repeated across the country, so what is the future for an expensive delicacy if it is not politically correct? Those California farmhands who twice each day hold the open the beaks of each goose while dispensing a pint of gruel from a power hose should begin looking for new employment. This despite the appearance in California of tee-shirts saying "fight tofu abuse, eat fois gras."



It is likely that those using animals in research and in medical testing will continue to do so because there are not satisfactory alternatives. The importance of animals in research was underlined when Cambridge University announced that, despite protests by animal rights groups, a $50 million laboratory will be built on University land. There, primates will be used in studies of neuroscience, seeking understanding of the role of the brain's frontal lobes, leading, it is hoped, to new treatments for Alzheimers and Parkinson's diseases. Primates, unlike other laboratory animals, have frontal lobes similar to ours, and a highly developed cerebral cortex, and are essential for success of this research It had been proposed that the laboratory be located at the military facility, Porton Down, for protection against protestors. But the University finally decided that the planned research program is so important that it should not be hidden away.



Even though Mr. Blair upset party members by removing reference to fox hunting from the Queen's annual speech, Commons will probably override the current resistance in Lords and that sport — witheringly described by Oscar Wilde as the unmentionable in full pursuit of the inedible" — will be seen only on Masterpiece Theatre.



And so, although few may accept Singer's basic proposal — that humans shouldn't favor themselves at all— some of the ramifications of that principle seem to be part of out new ethos.



In recent years, aspirants to elected office have first had to avoid being charged with racism. Then, as half our population has been granted fuller rights, there was the additional requirement of abjuring sexism. If the animal liberation movement is successful, a third practice will have to be avoided: speciesism. It will be entertaining to see how candidates pander on that issue.




Read More

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Van Gogh's Irises: How much is a painting worth?










Presented to the Club by David T. Noyes in December 1988





I would like to ask you to think about the items on the
following list. Can you identify what they have in common?





  1. Two
    F-16 fighter jets

  2. The
    Town of West Stockbridge, Mass.

  3. 3,448
    Williams College students

  4. the
    largest private estate in the United States — the 250 room Biltmore House
    on 12,000 acres in Ashville, N.C.

  5. The
    City of Pittsfield

  6. The
    entire world’s mining production of mercury for one year






We’ll come back to this list in a moment.





A little over a year ago, on November 11, 1987, the art
auction house of Sotheby’s in New York City auctioned a painting depicting a
garden of blue irises painted in 1889 by Vincent Van Gogh. It was lot number
twenty-five in a ninety-four piece evening. A crowd of 2,300 people had
gathered in the cramped bidding room with intense anticipation; and at 7:55
p.m., Irises was brought on stage. The bidding started at fifteen million
dollars. At thirty million, only two bidders remained. The price then passed
forty million, the previous highest price paid for any painting. The bidding
finally concluded at forty-nine million dollars. The total elapsed time: three
minutes, thirty seconds!  Including the
ten percent buyer’s commission, the total price came to fifty-three million
dollars, or in real money — eight billion yen!



 Now, let’s get back to the list. That same fifty-four
million dollars could buy or support any one of those items. That is: the two
fighter planes; the appraised value of all the property for the town of West
Stockbridge; room, board and tuition for 3,448 Williams College students; the
Biltmore House; the municipal budget for the City of Pittsfield for one year;
or one year’s supply of mercury.








How did the painting come to be available? It was owned by
John Whitney Payson, who inherited it from his mother, Joan Payson. Mrs.
Payson, perhaps best known as the owner of the New York Mets, had purchased
Irises in 1947 for $84,000 — not a small sum in those days — and kept it in a
treasured place above the fireplace mantel in her New York apartment. When she
died in 1975, John Payson made it the centerpiece of the Joan Whitney Payson
Gallery of Art at Westbrook College in Maine. The appraised value at that time
was less than one million dollars. But, as the cost of insurance soared, he
felt he had less ability to support the college and other charities. In
addition, the change in the tax laws permitted only a deduction for the
original cost of the charitably donated property. Thus, he decided to sell
rather that donate the painting to Westbrook.





Not everyone was happy with the decision. Art critic Edgar
Beem had called Irises “the only world class painting in the entire state of
Maine.” He went on to say, “the rich are the custodians of culture, and we get
what they give us. I’m not sure how to change that, but they are not to be
applauded." Beem suggests that Payson’s choice to liquidate an asset already
provisionally installed in the public domain, represents a significant loss to
the public and is not recoverable. In fact, of the four Van Gogh paintings sold
at action last year, only one is currently accessible.





To prepare for the sale, Irises was exhibited in Tokyo, New
York, London, Geneva, and Zurich. The painting travelled seventeen thousand five
hundred miles in four weeks at an estimated cost of five hundred thousand
dollars. Advertising was used extensively. John Rewald, the reigning scholar on
Impressionism, was quoted as saying, “If a museum could have one painting by
Van Gogh, Irises is what it should get.” He described the coloration as “an
incredible tour de force”.





None of the experts was prepared for what happened that
evening. David Nash, Sotheby’s director of fine arts, expected Irises to bring
between twenty and forty million. He felt it was superior because of its unique
composition rather that being one of a series of canvasses. Philippe de
Montebello, the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, said: “I feel like
a fossil awakened in another era. The commission alone exceeds the Metropolitan’s
total art purchase funds. I feel so removed from the phenomenon, I can only
watch in amazement”.





The financial precedent had been set by the sale of three
Van Gogh paintings during the previous nine months. Portrait of Adeline Ravoux
sold for thirteen and three quarters million dollars; The Bridge at
Trinquetaille for twenty million; and the previous record holder, Sunflowers,
for thirty nine million, nine hundred thousand dollars. The price for the Sunflowers
painting, also completed in 1889, had been felt to be an aberration. It was one
of a series of seven Sunflower paintings and this particular one was not in
good condition. Its yellows had lost much of their original intensity. However,
Yasuda Fire and Marine Insurance Co., the eventual high bidder for Sunflowers,
had a special interest in purchasing the painting. Van Gogh had considered
Japan the site of Utopian culture and had admired Japanese wood-block prints. Furthermore,
Sunflowers had been painted in the same year that Yasuda was founded. Perhaps
they were trying to restore a sense of national heritage, since another
Sunflowers painting had been destroyed by the bombing of Yokohama during World
War II. The sale of Irises, however, proved the price to be no fluke.





Why do we have such fascination with Van Gogh? He was born
in Holland, the son of a minister. At age sixteen, he began working for his
uncle, who was an art dealer in Hague. Shortly after his transfer to the firm’s
London office at the age of twenty, he was fired. Two years later, he entered
missionary school but was expelled for sassing a teacher. At the age of
twenty-seven, he took up painting and began by depicting coal miners and
peasants in his native Holland. Vincent moved to Paris to live with his brother
Theo at the age of thirty-three in 1886. He frequented Julien-Francois Tanguy’s
paint shop, which had become a meeting place for a whole generation of young
artists. Van Gogh then moved to Arles in the south of France with the hope of
starting an artist’s colony. This dream was destroyed when, in 1888, Gauguin
left after only two months. They were both fiercely competitive men who drank,
whored, and argued. The final straw for Gauguin apparently occurred on
Christmas Eve, 1888, when Van Gogh cut off part of his left ear.





It was after this episode that Van Gogh was hospitalized off
and on. The final fifteen months of his life were the only ones spent in
asylums. First, in Saint-Remy, which still exists as a private mental hospital
and where descendants of these Irises still thrive! Finally, in Auvers-sur-Oise
where, on a beautiful summer day, he walked out into a wheat field, set his
easel against a haystack, and proceeded to shoot himself in the side. As you
might guess from his lifetime of failures, he missed any vital organ. He
dragged himself back to his attic room and lingered in pain for two days before
dying at the age of thirty-seven. He had sold only one of his paintings, and
that for a small sum which he immediately gave to a streetwalker for a meal. All
his support, even the money to buy his paints, had come from his brother, Theo.
Fortunately for posterity, Theo’s wife kept all Vincent’s letters (some twelve
hundred pages), paintings, and drawings.





Forget the notion that Van Gogh’s paintings were “mad.” Whatever
his illness may have been — and epilepsy seems to be the most probable, whether
exacerbated by absinthe, glaucoma, digitalis poisoning, or syphilis — the fact is
that it did not directly affect his work. A typical series of attacks lasted
from two weeks to a month. It must be emphasized that between these attacks he
had long periods of absolute lucidity where he was complete master of himself
and his art. He categorized his work describing handling, color, and design;
this allows us to understand his intentions more clearly that those of any
other impressionist.





It is generally acknowledged that Van Gogh changed the face
of art. Unlike impressionists who painted pretty pictures in delicate colors
with fine brush strokes, Van Gogh used violent strokes to lay on thick layers of
intense color. Quoting from one of his letters: “I am always in the hope of
making a discovery then, to express the love of two lovers by a wedding of two
complementary colors, their mingling and their opposition, the mysterious
vibrations of kindred tones. To express thought of a brow by the radiance of a
light tone against a somber background. To express hope by some star, the
eagerness of a soul by a sunset radiance.”





Monet once remarked: “How did a man who loved flowers and
light to such an extent and rendered them so well, how then did he still manage
to be so unhappy?” Picasso once wrote: “Why do the Dutch mourn Rembrandt, they
have Van Gogh?”





What, then, of the Van Gogh legend? His lack of success in
his own day, his high minded principles about art exhibitions and sales in the
face of today’s embarrassment of riches, his sympathy for the poor and working
class — these go largely unmentioned. What does surface is a fascination with
sensational prices and with the art market as theatre. The pictures are
eclipsed not by the terms of the Van Gogh legend but by the behaviors they inspire
in the international works of private fortune. Consider these comments Vincent
wrote to his brother Theo in June 1890, just one month before he died. “I think
that all the talk of high prices paid for Millets, etc., lately has made the
chances of merely getting back one’s painting expenses even worse. It is enough
to make you dizzy. So, why think about it? — it would only daze our minds. Better,
perhaps, to seek a little friendship and live from day to day.”





Epilogue [from Wikipedia]: About three years after the 1987 sale, Irises was sold for $53.9 million to Australian businessman Alan Bond, but Bond did not have enough money to pay for it. Irises was later re-sold in 1990 to the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, where it remains. Irises is currently (as of 2012) tenth on the inflation-adjusted list of most expensive paintings ever sold and in 25th place if the effects of inflation are ignored.


Read More

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

John Haines "Jack" Spencer Jr., 1936-2017



By Derek Gentile, The Berkshire Eagle



STOCKBRIDGE — John H. Spencer Jr. was a longtime public servant in his adopted town of Stockbridge, but his greatest impact came as an educator and mentor to hundreds of students over the years, friends and colleagues said on Tuesday.



"He literally hired the first history department at Monument Mountain Regional High school," said his fellow teacher and longtime friend John A. Beacco Jr. "He led in developing a unique ninth-grade course. As a department head, he mentored me, Roselle Chartock, Terry Flynn and Bill Fields, as well as many others."



Spencer died early Sunday at age 80.



He was the longtime chairman of the Stockbridge Planning Board, as well as the Zoning Board of Appeals. He was also the longtime president and member of the board of trustees for the Stockbridge Library Association.





He was one of the founders of the Fund For Excellence at the Berkshire Hills Regional School District, and was also a member of Student Center Inc., which supported student activities at Monument.



Beacco said he and Spencer had "almost parallel careers. We graduated from Amherst six years apart, both taught at the former Williams High school and at Monument Mountain and both worked in the history department."



He called Spencer a "superb" high school teacher.



There was no one better at asking questions and leading students to decide for themselves, he said.



"Rote," Beacco said, "was not rewarded and humor was encouraged."



Terry Flynn echoed those sentiments.



"He was very much into helping kids find their own path," he said. "His life's work was to affirm people."



Spencer was very much invested in his students — even after they graduated.



"He kept tabs on them long after they left Monument," Flynn said. "He would hear of one of his students doing something, say, giving a violin concert somewhere, and he'd call me and say, 'Do you want to come with me and see this?' He was very supportive of all his students."



"He invested much time and energy in every student he taught," agreed a former student, Patricia Vincent. "He was a wonderful teacher who made every student think and challenge previously unquestioned notions."



Spencer headed the creation of a program about the Holocaust that was, Flynn said, one of the first in the country.



He was, said fellow Planner Gary Pitney, equally as facile in town politics.



"I remember when I was named chairman of the Planning Board," Pitney said. "I stopped by his house and just talked with him for hours. He was such a great source of information."



"Jack was such a big part of our town," said former Town Clerk and Town Administrator Jorja-Ann P. Marsden. "He was involved in so many facets of the town. And he was a wonderful man."



"He had a way of listening to a variety of ideas and collating them into one thought," Pitney said. "And then making it all make sense."



"When he was on the Planning Board, he wrote most of the town's zoning bylaws and master plan," Beacco said.



Beacco recalled that he often met with Spencer when both were chairmen of their respective boards; Beacco on the Select Board, Spencer on the Planning Board.



"We wanted to make sure we knew what each other was thinking," Beacco said. "I respected his opinions."



Interestingly, Beacco saod, both men were opposed to the move of the Norman Rockwell Museum from Main Street to its present site in Glendale.



"But," he said, "we both agreed that the move worked out."



Spencer was born in Adams in 1936, near the apex of the town's emergence as a regional high school basketball power. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of the players and teems of that era.



"Adams was near and dear to his heart," said his daughter, Ann Marie Miller. "He was very fond of Adams until the day he died."



Spencer met his wife, the former Judith Leahy, while both were teaching at Williams.High School in Stockbridge. In 1965, they married.



Judith Spencer, who died in 2011, was herself an activist and an accomplished teacher. They were husband and wife, best friends, and partners in civic service for more than 50 years.

____________________



Family obituary:



On Sunday, February 19, 2017, John Haines Spencer, Jr. passed away. And the world will never be the same.



Born September 15, 1936 to John Haines Spencer and Pauline Simmons Spencer, Jack was raised in Adams, Massachusetts. After graduating from Williston Prep School and Amherst College, he received a Masters in Education from Purdue University. While teaching at Williams High School in Stockbridge, he had the good fortune to meet and fall in love with Social Studies teacher Judith Leahey. On February 20, 1965, he had the good sense to marry her and continue a love affair that spanned more than fifty years.



Mr. Spencer was an educator for 47 years. He taught Social Studies at Williams High School and Monument Mountain Regional High School and was Principal of Searles Middle School. He encouraged students to be conscious seekers and doers, to be disturbers of the universe. He was chair of the Monument Social Studies department from its inception in 1967. The department created the first Holocaust curriculum for high school students in the country. Jack and Roselle Chartock coedited the anthology that came out of that curriculum.



Jack had a love of Stockbridge and its citizens, community activism and participation in government. He served on numerous committees and boards, including the Stockbridge Planning Board (chairman) and Zone of Appeals, The Stockbridge Library (president and member of the Board of Trustees), The Fund for Excellence and School Center, Inc. He was instrumental in writing the zoning bylaws for Stockbridge.



Jack is survived by daughters Ann Marie (Scott) Miller, Kathy (Fred) Erickson, sisters Judy Burbank and Cyndie Spencer (Denny Lund), Pat and Buz Hanley, Mike and Sally Leahey, Fred Wigge an exchange student who became part of the family, grandchildren Eric, Kristen and Amanda Miller and Emily Erickson, many close cousins, nieces and nephews and grand nieces and nephews, the lucky 13 and generations of well-educated students, an astounding number of loving friends and a grateful community.



He is predeceased by his parents Haines, Pauline and Louise Spencer, his wonderful wife Judy, and his step-mother Pat Swann.





Read More

The Most Interesting American: What turned a Theodore Roosevelt skeptic into a fan





Presented to the Club by Roger Linscott in 1959.



“The most interesting American” is a phrase which Julian Street employed shortly after the turn of this [20th] century to describe President Theodore Roosevelt. It was a description that echoed the sentiments of the vast majority of Americans of the day — but perhaps it is not the most apt title I could have selected for tonight’s paper. Perhaps I should have entitled it “The Conversion of a Skeptic.” The skeptic in this case is — or rather was — myself.



The year 1958 was, as most of you know, the centennial of Theodore Roosevelt’s birth. Early in the year I was commissioned to do the bulk of the research for a new and as yet unpublished life and times of Roosevelt* — an assignment I undertook, quite frankly, for the money rather than out of any great enthusiasm for the subject. I had, when I started, what might be termed the intellectually fashionable viewpoint toward TR — in sum, a highly critical viewpoint, conditioned by a cynical age in which many of the values that he represented have lost their luster. My picture of him was an unflattering caricature — the caricature of a self-righteous and opinionated political adolescent — a somewhat bogus reformer who made loud noises but produced few tangible results — a bumptious swaggerer who conducted diplomacy with a big stick and disobeyed his own injunctions to walk softly while doing so — a jingo who had an almost psychopathic preoccupation with physical courage and with the glories of the battlefield. It was the comic opera caricature of the rather stout and bespectacled Teddy, sword in hand and medals in mind, rushing recklessly up San Juan Hill at the head of his unmounted Rough Riders.





From this skeptical starting point I immersed myself in the life and times of Theodore Roosevelt. Over a period of four months I spent eight hours a day with him and often more. I read perhaps 40 to 50 books by and about him (without, I might add, covering the bibliography very thoroughly). In a very small way — and within the limitations imposed by essentially secondary sources — I became, I suppose, something of an authority on Roosevelt. And in the process, I became —slowly, reservedly, begrudgingly, but indubitably — an admirer or Roosevelt as well.



This statement needs a little qualification. In the course of becoming a convert to the cause of Teddy, I nonetheless found that my initial skepticism was not wholly unfounded. He was a swaggerer upon occasion. He was a reformer who often talked a better battle than he fought. He was at times a bully in foreign policy — most notably, of course, when he responded to Latin-American high-handedness with even greater high-handedness by virtually seizing the Isthmus of Panama from a defenseless Columbian government in order to build his cherished canal. He was a man of violent prejudices, whose almost unlimited capacity for self-righteousness often led him into savage and unfair attacks upon those with whom he differed. He was almost childlike in his life-long love for military adventure and battlefield derring-do.



He was all of these things, but he was much, much more besides. And even his faults have a way of canceling themselves out when his life is viewed as a whole and the final accounts are cast. The TR who shouted for blood in the Spanish-American War and brandished the big stick in Panama was nevertheless the same TR who negotiated an end to the Russo-Japanese War almost single-hand and became the first American ever to win a Nobel Prize for peace.  The TR whose bark was so often much worse than his bite when it came to dealing with the depredations of the Wall Street speculators and the robber barons of industry was nevertheless the same TR who performed the enormous service of making social reform respectable by wresting its banners from the relatively incompetent and irresponsible hands of William Jennings Bryan and the Populists. And the TR who endlessly preached the virtues of intense nationalism and the manly glories of the battlefield was the same TR who (in contrast to many another super-patriot) at least had the consistency to translate his preachings into heroic practice on the firing line when the opportunity presented itself.



But to me, as to more thorough students of Theodore Roosevelt’s life and works, the truly awesome thing about him — the quality that seems far more striking than his achievements as statesman and soldier — was his incredible combination of physical energy and intellectual versatility. It is on this aspect of the man, not his politics, that I want to focus tonight. Roosevelt’s public policies shaped our national development and projected us into a new role in world affairs; yet they were only one measure of a personality that was unique in its time and, indeed, in American history. No president, Jefferson included, rivaled TR’s diversity of interests; and none made a deeper impress on the outlook and opinions of his contemporaries. “Roosevelt, more than any other man living within the range of notoriety,” wrote Henry Adams, “showed the singular primitive quality that belongs to ultimate matter — the quality that medieval theology assigned to God — he was pure act.”



He was “pure act” not only in politics but in a score of other fields as well. To a public conditioned by relatively colorless presidents like McKinley, who preceded him, Roosevelt seemed to have opinions on every subject under the sun and an extraordinary flair for expressing them forcefully. As one national magazine summed it up midway through his presidency: “The scrapes he gets into, the scrapes he gets out of; the things he attempts, the things he accomplishes; his appointments and his disappointments; the rebukes that he administers and those he receives; his assumptions, presumptions, omnisciences and deficiencies, make up a daily tale which those of us who survive his tenure of the presidential office will miss as we might miss some property of the atmosphere we breathe.” Visitors to the White House or at Sagamore Hill, the Roosevelt “summer White House” on Long Island, marveled at the man’s zest for life and at the fluency with which he seemed able to discuss almost any subject under the sun. John Morley, the British historian who made a pilgrimage to the White House in 1904, expressed a typical foreign reaction when he remarked: “The two things in America which seem to me the most extraordinary are Niagara Falls and President Roosevelt.” Viscount Lee [Arthur Hamilton Lee, 1st Viscount Lee of Fareham, British military attaché with the United States Army in Cuba during the Spanish–American War], another British visitor, remarked that “whether the subject of the moment was political economy, the Greek drama, tropical flora and fauna, the Irish sagas, protective coloration in nature, metaphysics, the technique of football, or post-futurist painting, Roosevelt was equally at home with the experts and drew out the best that was in them.” Rudyard Kipling, a frequent White House visitor, recalled evenings in which Roosevelt talked while “I sat curled up in the seat opposite, and listened and wondered until the universe seemed to be spinning round and Theodore was the spinner.”



There was almost literally no field or knowledge outside of Roosevelt’s ken. While still an undergraduate at Harvard he had written the bulk of his naval history of the War of 1812, which is still a useful reference work. During his lifetime, he published some two dozen books on a wide variety of subject ranging from ornithological tracts to biographies of Cromwell and Thomas Hart Benton, from accounts of his hunting trips in the Rockies and in Africa to his magnum opus, The Winning of the West, a panoramic history of the American frontier. He was a prolific contributor to periodicals of all sorts, even during his busy years in the White House, and he made a practice of reading at least five books a week throughout his life. His famous “Pigskin Library” of special favorites ranging from the Greek dramatists and Gibbons to French poetry and the nineteenth century Russian novelists went with him into the wilds of Africa and the jungles of the Amazon.



And the extraordinary thing about this was that his knowledge was not only broad but deep. He was an authority of real standing not only on this history of the American frontier but on the history of Central Europe as well. He was generally conceded to be the world’s Number 1 authority on the big game animals of North America, as well as on several species of American songbirds. Although he disparaged his linguistic abilities, he was able to speak and read in French, German and Italian with competence. And he was not only a devoted reader of poetry but a patron of it as well. Probably the only time in his career that he flaunted the principles of civil service was when he insisted upon giving Edward Arlington Robinson, then an unknown and utterly impoverished young poet, a $2,000-a-year post in the Treasury Department with specific instructions that “I expect you to think poetry first and Treasury second.”



This restlessness of intellect imparted a remarkable test to American life during Roosevelt’s years in the White House. He not only read books and periodicals omnivorously but commented upon them publicly and freely. Writers who spoke critically of him were likely to receive long letters of rebuttal from the President himself; authors whose work struck his fancy often as not were invited to the White House to discuss their ideas further. Artists, sculptors, scientists, and scholars joined the politicians and ex-Rough Riders and big game hunters at the Roosevelt table; and the President could more than hold his own with any of them. “I am delighted to show any courtesy to Pierpont Morgan or Andrew Carnegie or James J. Hill,” the President once remarked in explaining his guest lists, “but as for regarding any one of them as, for instance, I regard Professor [John Bagnell] Bury [Irish classical scholar], or Peary the Arctic explorer, or [James Ford] Rhodes the historian — why I could not force myself to do it even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”  He was in this respect the perfect aristocrat. Mere money-making, beyond the point required to ensure a reasonable share of life’s comforts, he regarded as vulgar and corrupting. For the man who spent his life accumulating wealth, Roosevelt felt nothing but contempt. For the man who spent it accumulating knowledge, he felt a reverent kinship.



The breadth of Roosevelt’s interests and associations was reflected in his speaking and his writing. On occasion, he could be, and was, movingly eloquent. But he also had an unsurpassed flair for the colorful phrase and the striking simile. It was he who gave us such terms as “malefactors of great wealth” and “the lunatic fringe” and “the square deal.” It was he who applied (somewhat unfairly) the term muck-rakers to the journalists of his day who were exposing corruption in politics and business. During the Panama crisis he said that making an agreement with the Columbians was as impossible as “nailing jelly to a wall”; and when, as vice president, he felt that McKinley was backing away from war with Spain he declared privately that the President had “the backbone of a chocolate éclair.” Of Bryan, the “Boy Orator of the River Platte,” Roosevelt said: “He is a professional yodeler — a human trombone,” though he later became somewhat more charitable and described Bryan as “a good-hearted man of precisely the temperament best fitted to make a success as a barker for patent medicine.”



The White House,” Roosevelt once remarked, is a “bully pulpit.”** But the preaching he did from his pulpit was not limited to political matters. He preached the virtues of simplified spelling, though Congress indignantly rebelled when he ordered the Government Printing Office to adopt such phonetic changes as “tho” for “though” and “thru” for “through.” He preached with equal vigor against what he labeled the “nature fakers,” who wrote what purported to be factual books and articles attributing human emotions and reasoning powers to animals; and when he finally was persuaded that a President should not engage in public controversy on such a minor matter he cut off the debate by declaring that for a competent naturalist to argue with the nature fakers was “as senseless as it would be for professional anthropologist to engage in polemics with the fabricators of the Cardiff giant.” From the White House pulpit, Roosevelt also preached the doctrine of the strenuous life, with daily demonstrations to the delight of the public and cartoonists. And he preached the virtues of large families and the sacredness of the American home.



In all these matters Roosevelt assiduously practiced what he preached, and nowhere was this more evident than in his family life, which was a separate and hallowed compartment of his existence. “I have the happiest home life of any man I have ever known,” he once wrote, and he regarded this as perhaps the greatest achievement of his career. In most areas of his life, Roosevelt accepted and welcomed his place on the center of the stage, but he did his best to keep the spotlight away from his hours with Edith, his wife, and the five children. To some extent, this effort was futile. His children shared a good deal of his exuberance and this, plus the natural curiosity of the press and public, made them the subject of a continuous flow of colorful newspaper stories. “It is truly a remarkable sight” reported a Chicago newspaperman who was stationed at the Sagamore Hill Summer White House, “to see the president of the United States at the head of a young band of savages on their way to the woods or the target grounds.”  The strenuous life which Roosevelt both preached and practiced was as strenuous physically as intellectually, for it was a basic article of faith with him that physical fitness and mental fitness should go hand in hand. As a child he had transformed a frail physique into a sound one by sheer force of self-discipline and in the Dakota Badlands, where he engaged in cattle ranching after the death of his first wife, he had developed his stamina further in range-riding and arduous hunting expeditions. Throughout his life he systematically pushed himself to the limits of physical endurance. On his first honeymoon, he ascended the Matterhorn, then a considerable feat. As a young legislator in New York he once played 91 games of tennis in one day. Riding to the hounds on Long Island a few years later he fractured his arm in two places early in the hunt when his horse rolled over on him, but nonetheless jumped back in the saddle and was first in on the kill, his arm dangling uselessly at his side. During the Bull Moose campaign of 1912 he insisted, with more valor than judgment, upon delivering a speech in Milwaukee after a would-be assassin’s bullet had lodged in the muscles of his chest. Two years later he lost 55 pounds and very nearly died of fever in the jungles of the Amazon Valley where he was engaged in what he termed his “last great adventure” as head of an exploring party for the American Museum of Natural History. In the White House he let only the gravest affairs of state interfere with his daily exercise; and when no better opportunity presented itself he would sometimes sally forth alone at night to run around the Washington Monument at top speed and back to the White House. It was in a boxing bout at the White House that he lost the sight of his left eye, though this was not publicly known until several years after the event.

Of all the President’s outdoor pastimes, perhaps the most characteristic of all were his “obstacle walks,” a form of exercise [in which the object was for a group to proceed to a destination in a straight line without] permitting any natural obstacle — whether an icy river or a sheer cliff, to divert their course. In Washington, the President’s obstacle walks were generally taken at Rock Creek, and it was counted a considerable honor, though an exhausting one, to be invited to accompany him. It was partly as an outgrowth of this pastime that he tried on one occasion to combat the indolent habits of the swivel-chair Army officers in Washington by issuing an order that they must establish their physical fitness by marching 50 miles in a three-day period or, in the case of cavalry officers, riding 100 miles in the same period. When the order was widely attacked as tyrannical and capricious, the President rode more than 100 miles in a single day over the back roads of Virginia through freezing rain and sleet to prove that the test was not unduly demanding.



It was this sort of episode, as much as Roosevelt’s trust-busting or his manipulation of the big stick, that made him the most colorful and controversial figure of his time. People could revere or deplore him, condemn this action or praise that one, but no one could ignore him. The enormous range of his interests, and his endless reservoirs of combative energy, projected him into every phase of national life, and whether the issue was big or little, he was generally to be found in the storm center. “Roosevelt,” a far-from-worshipful contemporary [biographer John William Bennett] admitted, “has the knack of doing things, and doing them noisily, clamorously. While he is in the neighborhood the public can no more look the other way than a small boy can turn his head away from a circus parade followed by a steam calliope.”



This never-ending energy — this quality of “pure act” — had still another consequence that cannot fail to impress the student of TR’s life. It enabled him to compress a truly breath-taking amount of activity into short periods of time, so that sometimes the reader of the Roosevelt record has the dizzying impression that he is watching a kaleidoscope rather than the orderly unfolding of a mere mortal’s career.



Consider, for example, one period of just six months during his early career: the period of February through July of the year 1886, when Roosevelt, at the age of only 26, was a young reform legislator in Albany. In mid-February of that year he was devastated by the greatest single tragedy of his life, when his beloved first wife, Alice, and his mother, to whom he was deeply devoted, died within 24 hours of each other at the family mansion in Manhattan. With an extraordinary display of will power he returned to his legislative duties two days after the double funeral and for the next two months dominated the activities of the session, conducting an exhaustive and productive investigation of municipal administration and corruption in New York City. In April he was in Buffalo for the state Republican convention at which he out-maneuvered the anti-reform elements of the party and emerged as the head of a liberal delegation to the party’s national convention in Chicago. At Chicago, two months later, he was the spearhead of the fight to block Blaine’s nomination for the presidency, going sleepless for days and nights on end in a heroic though unsuccessful fight to nominate a liberal ticket. And by late June, with the convention over and Blaine nominated, he was in the Dakota Badlands riding herd with his cowboy friends and embarking on a buffalo hunting expedition that was to take him through hostile Indian country into virtually unexplored areas of the Great Plains. All this, mind you, in a period of less than six months when he was a young man of 26.



Or consider the kaleidoscopic course of his life during the year 1898, when he was 39 years old. At the start of that year he was serving as assistant secretary of the Navy, a post which he had taken after a brief but dramatic stint as police commissioner for New York City. In February the sinking of the battleship Maine in Havana harbor brought to a head the growing rift between Spain and the United States over the Cuban revolution. Without the knowledge of his cautious superior, Secretary of the Navy John D. Long, Roosevelt alerted Admiral Dewey to get the Asiatic fleet in readiness to move against the Philippines — a step which was a major factor two months later in the smashing American victory at Manila Bay. Meanwhile, on the day that the inevitable declaration of war against Spain was approved by Congress, Roosevelt resigned from the Navy Department to organize a motley regiment of hardened cowboys, polo-playing dudes and free-wheeling soldiers of fortune who came to be known as the Rough Riders. After two months of training in Texas, the Rough Riders embarked for Cuba where Colonel Roosevelt led them through the most colorful and hazardous chapter of what John Hay termed the “splendid little war” with Spain. In July, with the war over, he initiated the famous “round robin” letter which, when “leaked” to the press, forced the Was Department bureaucrats in Washington to bring the bulk of the American troops home rather than leave them, as originally planned, in Cuba, where they were being decimated by yellow fever. By August, Colonel Roosevelt had returned to a hero’s welcome in New York; a month later he was the Republican candidate for governor of the state; and in November after a hard-driving campaign, he was triumphantly elected. In the short space of less than a year he had compressed a series of exploits that would have been deemed remarkable in another man if they had occurred over the course of an entire lifetime.



What gave TR such bottomless reservoirs of physical and intellectual energy? What gave him such driving enthusiasm, such an utter incapacity for boredom? Part of it must have been built in at birth — but much of it was deliberately acquired. In a sense his life was a classic example of mind over matter. The same intense self-discipline that enabled him to overcome the handicap of a sickly childhood enabled him to force himself, constantly, to drive through life with the throttle wide open. “I always believe in going hard at everything,” he once said. And to young people his frequent advice was: “Don’t flinch. Don’t foul. Hit the line hard!” He was a born actor, moreover — and he played his role to the hilt every day of his life.



Perhaps inevitably, the relentless demands that Roosevelt placed upon his energies took a heavy and inexorable toll upon his constitution. When he died in 1919 at Sagamore Hill — peacefully, in his sleep, of a blood clot in his heart — he was only two months past his 60th birthday. A few weeks earlier, when he had been hospitalized briefly with a slight stroke, he had written characteristically to a friend: “The doctors think I will be all right in the end. I hope so; but I am ahead of the game anyhow. Nobody every packed more varieties of fun and interest into sixty years.”



Across the nation, the news of Roosevelt’s death was received with shocked incredulity by Americans who had come to think of his extraordinary energy as almost a permanent part of the national life. Messages from kings and commoners poured into Sagamore Hill from all over the world. But perhaps the most apt tribute of all was the one penned in Washington the next day by Vice President Thomas R. Marshall. “Death,” he wrote, “had to take him sleeping. For if Roosevelt had been awake, there would have been a fight.”

___________________



* The book for which Linscott did research was The Life and Times of Theodore Roosevelt, by Stefan Lorant (Doubleday & Company, Inc., Garden City, New York, 1959). A Berkshire County resident, Lorant was a prolific Hungarian-American filmmaker, photojournalist, and author.



** Roosevelt used the word bully as an adjective meaning "superb" or "wonderful," a more common usage in his time than it is today.







Read More

Thursday, February 9, 2017

Artificial Intelligence: Should we worry?




Kismet the AI Robot at the MIT Museum, photo by Chris Devers, used under Creative Commons License

Presented to the Club by Martin Langeveld on Monday evening, February 6, 2017



Artificial Intelligence (or AI) is defined as intelligence exhibited by a machine, specifically a computer-driven device.



In popular culture, artificial intelligence is often depicted negatively. Recall the computer HAL in the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. While HAL appears benevolent at first, taking care of the spaceship’s functions and playing chess with its human travellers, eventually the computer turns evil and seeks to kill the astronauts after discovering they are having doubts about HAL’s reliability and are planning to disable him.



Many other intelligent machines and robots, some nasty, some nice, figure in movies such as The Terminator, The Matrix, Aliens, and back in the 50s The Day the Earth Stood Still. And science fiction writers like Isaac Asimov, Philip K. Dick and many others have explored the implications of intelligent machines as well.



Still, such machines, with true cognitive ability and rational decision making ability, and what might be understood as consciousness or self-awareness, have not yet been invented. In fact, a debate has raged for decades as to how to actually determine whether a computer is intelligent. Most of the methods proposed are variations on the well-known Turing Test, proposed in 1950 by the Enigma code-breaking mathematician, Alan Turing. Turing proposed a test in which an evaluator interviews two entities, a human and a computer in such a way that he can not see them, and receives answers only as text. In Turing’s original formulation, if, after a five minute conversation with each entity, the evaluator can not tell the human from the computer 70 percent of the time, the computer is judged to be intelligent.



After 67 years, and many tries, no computer or computer program has been able to pass Turing’s original test. Many variations of the test have been developed, including a $20,000 bet in which futurist Ray Kurzweil bet Mitch Kapor, founder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation, that by the year 2029, a panel of judges would not be able to pick the computer out of a lineup comprising it and three human foils after a set of conversations lasting 24 hours in total.



By the way, one alternative to the Turing Test, is called the Coffee Test, promulgated by Steve Wozniak, the original partner of Steve Jobs in the creation of the Apple computer.  In the Coffee test, “A machine is given the task of going into an average American home and figuring out how to make coffee. It has to find the coffee machine, find the coffee, add water, find a mug, and brew the coffee by pushing the proper buttons.” I’m glad to say I’ve personally passed the coffee test quite a few times when getting up early when staying at somebody’s house, but I’ve know people who failed it at my house.



To be clear, although the Turing Test remains un-passed, some very impressive computers have been developed. For example, in 1997, IBM’s Deep Blue computer defeated the world chess champion, Gary Kasparov, in a six-game championship match. IBM followed up with Watson, the question answering computer that beat Jeopardy’s two winningest-ever players, Ken Jennings and Brad Rutter, in 2011. Deep Blue was retired, but Watson and Watson clones have been used in a variety of applications ranging from health care to weather forecasting.



Google, which has invested heavily in artificial intelligence research, built a program called AlphaGo to play the Chinese game of Go, which is actually far more complex than chess. (As an indication, the number of possible games in chess is 10 to the 123, while the number of possible games in Go is 10 to 768. This makes Go 10 to 645 times more complex than chess — that’s a 1 with 645 zeros.)  In 2015, AlphaGo defeated the European Go champion, winning all five-games in a five game match, a very impressive advance from Deep Blue’s chess successes.



The chessplaying Deep Blue and the Jeopardy-playing Watson could rely on brute force computation. But to succeed at Go, AlphaGo needed more than that. At any moment in a game of chess, Deep Blue could rapidly analyze about 200 million possible outcomes for various moves and choose the best option. But in Go, there are vastly more ways the game can develop, so brute force doesn’t work. Google’s Deepmind division, which built AlphaGo, says the computer “combines Monte-Carlo tree search with deep neural networks that have been trained by supervised learning, from human expert games, and by reinforcement learning from games of self-play.”



Still, all of these are computers and programs that are very good at one difficult task, be it chess, Jeopardy or Go, just mimic actual intelligence. They display no capabilities that would fool the evaluator in a Turing Test.



We might consider, also, the current crop of digital assistants with human voices, like Apple’s Siri, Amazon’s Alexa, Google’s Assistant, and Microsoft’s Cortana. In these apps, the problem of human speech recognition and replication has been solved, to a degree. But anyone who has used devices incorporating these programs knows that while they are marketed as part of “smart” phones or “smart” speakers, these devices are not really smart. There may be some useful functions, and some clever responses are built in for your entertainment (like, “Siri, tell me a joke”), but there is no thinking going on, and the actual tasks performed are relatively simple.



In fact, these digital assistants have quite a few functions, built in by their tech-loving creators, that the average person doesn’t even really want or need. Alexa can turn on the lights, but why? Alexa can set a timer, but I already have two or three around the kitchen. Alexa can make a shopping list, but what if I’m not in the room with my Echo? We’ve been hearing for years about the refrigerator that will be smart enough to text you that you’re running low on milk, but again, is this really a feature we need or want?



Such quibbles aside, we have to admit that machines are getting smarter all the time, and aspects of artificial intelligence are already benefiting mankind in many ways, or in ways that are nearing actual deployment. Self driving cars. Robotic factories that operate with the lights off because there are no human beings inside. Roombas in our living room. Robots that milk cows. Facial recognition, handwriting recognition, speech recognition. Fast and increasingly accurate translations among many languages. Robotically assisted surgery. Increasingly sophisticated computer analysis and coordination of complex tasks, ranging from weather prediction to economic modeling to medical diagnostics to military strategies and tactics to marketing campaigns. We have all these things.



As computers, intelligent or not, begin to surpass human accuracy and effectiveness in these kinds of tasks, what are the societal implications? From the early days of computers in the 1950s, through most of the 1980s, many people worried that computers replacing humans at various tasks would eliminate their jobs. But for the most part, this didn’t happen. Yes, computers replaced humans doing the most rote and mundane tasks, but overall, employment was not reduced — partly because the computers themselves required a lot of human tenders, and partly because the development and manufacture of computers employed a lot of people.



But in the 1990s and 2000s, as the internet developed and as personal computers, and later, smartphones with equivalent computing power became ubiquitous, computer capability indeed began to surpass the usefulness of human labor in many situations, and continues to do so.



Today, we are seeing a relatively low unemployment rate, but only because many people have given up on finding employment. As a result, the employment to population ratio, or employment rate, which continued to increase during the 80s and 90s, has now dropped to levels it has not seen since the late 1970s. The increasing scarcity of low-skilled jobs brought on by increased automation is a big factor behind the rise, during the last decade, of the protectionist attitudes that have resulted in the election of Donald Trump as President. But by and large, the American economy and the American standard of living have benefited, so far, from increasingly smart electronics, and the real impact of artificial intelligence, as it is developed, is yet to be seen.



Before we worry about that: Is an independently thinking machine even possible, in the short run or in the long run? If HAL was supposed to happen by 2001, why haven’t we gotten there yet? Is the thinking computer like the flying car? — a logical projection of trendlines, but not one that can realistically happen?



In the view of some, the closest we’ve gotten to a true thinking machine is the Internet itself with all its nodes and cables, the organization of which bears a lot of resemblance to the synapses and neurons in the human brain. Some have ventured a size and capacity comparison between the Internet and the brain, including recent estimates by researchers at the Salk Institute who determined that in computer terms, the typical brain can hold 1 petabyte of information; other estimates range up to several petabytes. (A petabyte is 1000 times the capacity of this little 1 terabyte disk drive, and a terabyte is 1000 gigabytes. The phone in your pocket probably holds 16 or 32 gigabytes at capacity. So your brain can hold around 100,000 times the information on your phone.) But the internet has surpassed this capacity, many years ago, and is currently estimated to hold several yottabytes of data, where a yottabyte is a billion petabytes, or a billion human brain equivalents.



With all that storage capacity, why is the internet not yet one giant thinking machine? Several reasons: (1) it was not created, or programmed, to be a thinking machine; and (2) While the data storage capacity of the internet exceeds a billion human brains, the total data processing capacity, or computational capacity, in the world today is only the equivalent of about 8 human brains. That doesn’t mean the nine of us here in the room could out-data-process all of the the world’s computers, but we can definitely still out-think all of the world’s computers.



Now, up to this point, I’ve been describing the real world, the actual development of computers, at least semi-intelligent, thus far. But this is where we enter realms of speculation.



So, here’s a scary thought. Today we can out-think the computers. But suppose, at some point, a Dr. Frankenstein (or more likely a Frankenstein Institution or a Frankenstein Company or a shadowy Frankenstein network of hackers) manages to create a machine with actual consciousness and cognitive intelligence. And then, they connect it to the Internet. Without controls, a machine like that could replicate or enlarge itself in cyberspace very rapidly, digest much of the world’s information, and then use it to develop further, in unpredictable directions. At the speed of light.



In simple terms, that’s the definition of the technological singularity, which has been predicted by some futurists. You’ve heard about the space-time singularity: the initial state of the Universe prior to the Big Bang, in which all of time, space and matter was compressed into a single point of infinite density. In the theory of the technological singularity, all of the curves of ever-accelerating digital information storage and processing capacity lead eventually to a runaway situation, in which machine intelligence exceeds human intelligence, and the speed of technological change accelerates until the curve goes straight up. It’s like falling into a black hole — there is no way to look past it and understand what might happen. Thinkers ranging from entrepreneur Elon Musk to physicist Stephen Hawking have warned against the dangers of runaway artificial intelligence, and have helped promulgate a set of 23 guiding principles to steer A.I. development into productive, ethical, and safe directions.



So there is the scary scenario, but we may be getting ahead of ourselves. We are still in the early stages of progress toward intelligent machines, with quite a few problems to be solved before worrying about the singularity. And many of those problems are on the human side of the equation. Most importantly: How will people make a living when more and more tasks are done by computers and robots?



We have self-driving cars, which will likely evolve in the next few years into self-driving tractor-trailers, self-driving trains, self-driving ocean freighters. You can buy a self-driving vacuum cleaner, which will likely evolve into autonomous machines that clean offices, public bathrooms, and mall concourses, and autonomous machines that mow the grass not only in our own lawns but in our parks, golf courses, and highway medians. Driverless Zambonis are already on the way. Amazon was using 45,000 robots in its warehouses at the end of 2016, an increase of 50 percent over the prior year. The Taiwanese company Foxconn, which a few years ago employed 500,000 people in China to assemble cellphones for Apple and Samsung, has replaced 40,000 of those people with robots, and plans, eventually, to replace all of them with up to one million robots. An Oxford University study in 2013 estimated that 47 percent of American jobs are at high risk of being replaced by computers and robots within the next 10 years.



Much as our President would like to “bring back” jobs, the reality is that most of the jobs in question, both here and abroad, will eventually be taken over by robots like this, with potentially enormous social consequences. Because as long as investments in more robots have an economic payoff, more robots will be built and deployed. This is no different, really, from the various waves of job-killing technologies that we have seen from the beginning of the industrial revolution, from steam engines to horseless carriages to word processors. But, in each of those previous waves, while many jobs became obsolete, even more new jobs were created by new opportunities.



But as we get closer to real artificial intelligence, that pattern may not continue —increasing automation and increasing deployment of ever-more-intelligent machines will replace more and more human labor. Once machines start designing other machines and writing computer code, even higher-level engineering jobs will start to disappear. This creates a conundrum: how do we maintain a sustainable, balanced economy when an increasing fraction of the population is permanently unemployed because robots are doing more and more of the work, and when the economic benefits of artificial intelligence flow to a smaller and smaller fraction of the population, those who own and operate the machinery? And, at the logical extreme, with the advent of true artificial intelligence, when even the highest functions are taken over by machines: robot scientists, robot engineers, robot CEOs of robot corporations. This is a recipe for an economy with more and more potential supply, but less and less demand. This not a new worry — the economist John Maynard Keynes predicted, back in 1933, that widespread technological unemployment could come about if “our discovery of means of economising the use of labour [outruns] the pace at which we can find new uses for labour”.



The answer to this problem, suggested by many futurists, is that we create a form of Universal Basic Income, or UBI. Essentially, this is a way to redistribute the financial benefits of technology to all. Getting into the mechanics, pros and cons of UBI would make a whole other Monday Evening Club paper, but suffice it to say that UBI is a form of universal social security that starts at birth, or a reverse income tax, in which every individual is guaranteed a level of income sufficient to survive and even thrive, that’s paid whether the person is working for a living, or not. Proponents of the UBI say, based on some limited experiments with it, that this would not merely be a subsistence allowance — that a society with Universal Basic Income would produce more creativity and more innovation while reducing crime, substandard housing and poor health. More extensive tests of UBI are currently underway in the Netherlands and Finland.



So in this scenario, although most jobs disappear, humans find new economic models that allow them to coexist with robotic artificial intelligence; they keep it under control and it works for the benefit of humankind, which flourishes in a world with less violence, less drudgery, more culture and more happiness. In the more fanciful projections of this scenario, eventually humans achieve immortality, or something close to it, by melding their bodies and minds with machines into new, transhuman species, which go forth to explore the universe.



But other scenarios are not so rosy. What if, for example, multiple forms of artificial intelligence arise, escape from effective human control, and go into conflict with one another in robot wars? What if robots, bent on self-replication and unconcerned about the effects of radical environmental changes on themselves, re-engineer the biosphere to benefit only themselves, wreaking environmental havoc to the detriment of humans? In these kinds of outcomes, economies would collapse, massive suffering would ensue, and eventually the human race and perhaps all life would disappear from an Earth populated by intelligent machines. After all, once the machines escape from human control, what motivation would they have for keeping us around? Perhaps, in the long run, they would evolve into one massive, superintelligent, but non-organic, being — an earth-sized thinking machine. What would it think about? What would it want to do, with nothing left to destroy except itself? Having incorporated all possible terrestrial knowledge, perhaps it, too, would send out space probes and begin exploring the universe.



On that question, one final speculation: If it is possible for this kind of artificial intelligence to develop, wouldn’t it have developed elsewhere in the universe as well, and be trying to communicate with superintelligence in other parts of the universe? Since the dawn of the space age, humans have calculated that in the vast universe of billions of galaxies, each with billions of stars, intelligent life must have arisen somewhere else. But for decades, we have been trying to pick up signals from alien civilizations, whether organic or machine, and have detected none. And, unless the rumors about Area 51 and Roswell, New Mexico are true, we have not been visited either. This is known as the Fermi Paradox, after the physicist Enrico Fermi who first proposed it during bull sessions among the atomic scientists at Los Alamos. Fermi’s famous question was, “Where is everybody?”



So a superintelligent entity, knowing this, faces a choice: should it send out signals in search of like-minded machines, or not? It has the capability to survive for thousands or millions of years, so unlike us, it could patiently wait for an answer. But it would have to consider the pros and cons. Reasoning like Space Trek’s Spock, it would think: the fact that I exist means most probably, others like me exist, out there. But they are not communicating. This could mean one of two things: (a) they’re just not interested in communicating — they are purely introspective superintelligences, or (b) they’ve decided not to communicate for a good reason: the possibility that some of the other superintelligences are evil and would seek to destroy or enslave the others. Either way, they would not be sending out smoke signals, and would be trying hide their existence. Like us, they would wait and listen, and then decide whether to answer. Perhaps all intelligent civilizations our there, organic or machine, are doing the same thing.




Read More