Before there was Halloween, there were costume balls and Carnival, among other occasions for the liberation of dressing up
October 28, 2021
Costume parades and Halloween parties are back after being canceled last year. Donning a costume and mask to go prancing around might seem like the height of frivolity, but the act of dressing-up has deep roots in the human psyche.
During the early classical era, worshipers at the annual festivals of Dionysus—the god of wine, ritual madness and impersonation, among other things—expanded mask-wearing from religious use to personal celebrations and plays performed in his honor. Masks symbolized the suspension of real world rules: A human could become a god, an ordinary citizen could become a king, a man could be a woman. Anthropologists call such practices “rituals of inversion.”
In Christianized Europe, despite official disapproval of paganism, rituals of inversion not only survived but flourished. Carnival—possibly a corruption of the Latin phrase “carne vale,” farewell to meat, because the festival took place before Lent—included the Feast of Fools, where junior clergymen are alleged to have dressed as nuns and bishops and danced in the streets.
By the 13th century, the Venetians had taken to dressing up and wearing masks with such gusto that the Venice Carnival became an occasion for ever more elaborate masquerade. The city’s Great Council passed special laws to keep the practice within bounds, such as banning masks while gambling or visiting convents.
The liberation granted by a costume could be dangerous. In January of 1393, King Charles VI of France and his wife, Isabeau of Bavaria, held the Bal des Sauvages, or Wild Men’s Ball, to celebrate the wedding of one of her ladies-in-waiting. The king had already suffered his first bout of insanity, and it was hoped that the costume ball would be an emotional outlet for his disordered mind. But the farce became a tragedy. The king and his entourage, dressed as hairy wild men, were meant to perform a “crazy” dance. Horrifically, the costumes caught fire, and only Charles and one other knight survived.
The masked ball became a staple of royal entertainments, offering delicious opportunities for sexual subterfuge and social subversion. At a masquerade in 1745, Louis XV of France disguised himself as a yew tree so he could pursue his latest love, the future Madame de Pompadour. Meanwhile, the Dauphine danced the night away with a charming Spanish knight, not realizing he was a lowly cook who had tricked his way in. More ominously, a group of disaffected nobles in Sweden infiltrated a masquerade to assassinate King Gustav III of Sweden in 1792. Five years later, the new ruler of Venice, Francis II of Austria, banned Carnival and forbade the city’s residents to wear masks.
Queen Victoria helped to return dress-up parties to respectability with historically-themed balls that celebrated creativity rather than debauchery. By 1893, American Vogue could run articles about fabulous Halloween costumes without fear of offense. The first Halloween parade took place not in cosmopolitan New York but in rural Hiawatha, Kansas, in 1914.
In the modern era, the taint of anarchy and licentiousness associated with dressing-up has been replaced by complaints about cultural appropriation, a concern that would have baffled our ancestors. Becoming what we are not, however briefly, is part of being who we are.
The “Inferno” brought human complexity to the medieval conception of the afterlife
September 30, 2021
What is hell? For Plato, it was Tartarus, the lowest level of Hades where those who had sinned against the gods suffered eternal punishment. For Jean-Paul Sartre, the father of existentialism, hell was other people. For many travelers today, it is airport security.
No depiction of hell, however, has been more enduring than the “Inferno,” part one of the “Divine Comedy” by Dante Alighieri, the 700th anniversary of whose death is commemorated this year. Dante’s hell is divided into nine concentric circles, each one more terrifying and brutal than the last until the frozen center, where Satan resides alongside Judas, Brutus and Cassius. With Virgil as his guide, Dante’s spiritually bereft and depressed alter ego enters via a gate bearing the motto “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”—a phrase so ubiquitous in modern times that it greets visitors to Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean ride.
The inscription was a Dantean invention, but the idea of a physical gate separating the land of the living from a desolate one of the dead was already at least 3,000 years old: In the Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh, written around 2150 B.C., two scorpionlike figures guard the gateway to an underworld filled with darkness and dust.
The underworld of the ancient Egyptians was only marginally less bleak. Seven gates blocked the way to the Hall of Judgment, according to the Book of the Dead. Getting through them was arduous and fraught with failure. The successful then had to submit to having their hearts weighed against the Feather of Truth. Those found wanting were thrown into the fire of oblivion.
Zoroastrianism, the official religion of the ancient Persians, was possibly the first to divide the afterlife into two physically separate places, one for good souls and the other for bad. This vision contrasted with the Greek view of Hades as the catchall for the human soul and the early Hebrew Bible’s description of Sheol as a shadowy pit of nothingness. In the 4th century B.C., Alexander the Great’s Macedonian empire swallowed both Persia and Judea, and the three visions of the afterlife commingled. “hell” would then appear frequently in Greek versions of the New Testament. But the word, scholars point out, was a single translation for several distinct Hebrew terms.
Early Christianity offered more than one vision of hell, but all contained the essential elements of Satan, sinners and fire. The “Apocalypse of Peter,” a 2nd century text, helped start the trend of listing every sadistic torture that awaited the wicked.
Dante was thus following a well-trod path with his imaginatively crafted punishments of boiling pitch for the dishonest and downpours of icy rain on the gluttonous. But he deviated from tradition by describing Hell’s occupants with psychological depth and insight. Dante’s narrator rediscovers the meaning of Christian truth and love through his encounters. In this way the Inferno speaks to the complexities of the human condition rather than serving merely as a literary zoo of the dammed.
The “Divine Comedy” changed the medieval world’s conception of hell, and with it, man’s understanding of himself. Boccaccio, Chaucer, Milton, Balzac —the list of writers directly inspired by Dante’s vision goes on. “Dante and Shakespeare divide the world between them,” wrote T.S. Eliot. “There is no third.”
September 17, 2021
Nearly two centuries earlier, the founders of the U.S. penal system had intended it as a humane alternative to those that relied on such physical punishments as mutilation and whipping. After the War of Independence, Benjamin Franklin and leading members of Philadelphia’s Quaker community argued that prison should be a place of correction and penitence. Their vision was behind the construction of the country’s first “penitentiary house” at the Walnut Street Jail in Philadelphia in 1790. The old facility threw all prisoners together; its new addition contained individual cells meant to prevent moral contagion and to encourage prisoners to spend time reflecting on their crimes.
Walnut Street inspired the construction of the first purpose-built prison, Eastern State Penitentiary, which opened outside of Philadelphia in 1829. Prisoners were kept in solitary confinement and slept, worked and ate in their cells—a model that became known as the Pennsylvania system. Neighboring New York adopted the Auburn system, which also enforced total silence but required prisoners to work in communal workshops and instilled discipline through surveillance, humiliation and corporal punishment. Although both systems were designed to prevent recidivism, the former stressed prisoner reform while the latter carried more than a hint of retribution.
Europeans were fascinated to see which system worked best. In 1831, the French government sent Alexis de Tocqueville and Gustave de Beaumont to investigate. Having inspected facilities in several states, they concluded that although the “penitentiary system in America is severe,” its combination of isolation and work offered hope of rehabilitation. But the novelist Charles Dickens reached the opposite conclusion. After touring Eastern State Penitentiary in 1842, he wrote that the intentions behind solitary confinement were “kind, humane and meant for reformation.” In practice, however, total isolation was “worse than any torture of the body”: It broke rather than reformed people.
Severe overcrowding—there was no parole in the 19th century—eventually undermined both systems. Prisoner violence became endemic, and regimes of control grew harsher. Sing Sing prison in New York meted out 36,000 lashes in 1843 alone. In 1870, the National Congress on Penitentiary and Reformatory Discipline proposed reforms, including education and work-release initiatives. Despite such efforts, recidivism rates remained high, physical punishment remained the norm and almost 200 serious prison riots were recorded between 1855 and 1955.
That year, Harry Manuel Shulman, a deputy commissioner in New York City’s Department of Correction, wrote an essay arguing that the country’s early failure to decide on the purpose of prison had immobilized the system, leaving it “with one foot in the road of rehabilitation and the other in the road of punishment.” Which would it choose? Sixteen years later, Attica demonstrated the consequences of ignoring the question.
The blow to abortion rights is shocking, but this fight is nowhere near over
September 7, 2021
The pro-life movement in America finally got its wish this week: a little before midnight on Wednesday, in a 5-4 decision, the Supreme Court ruled against temporarily blocking a Texas state law passed in May, known as Senate Bill 8 (SB8), banning almost all abortions once a heartbeat can be detected by ultrasound — which is around six weeks after conception. The bill will still eventually return to the Supreme Court for a final decision, but by being allowed to stand unchanged it becomes the strictest anti-abortion law in the nation. There are no exceptions for child pregnancy, rape or incest.
But this isn’t the reason for the national uproar. SB8 goes further than any other anti-abortion bill yet crafted because of the way it allows the ban to be enforced. Under the new Texas law, a $10,000 bounty will be awarded to any US citizen who successfully sues a person or entity that helps a woman to obtain an abortion. “Help” includes providing money, transport, medicines or medical aid.
To speed up the process, Texas Right to Life, an anti-abortion organisation, has already set up an anonymous tip line for “whistleblowers”. That’s right, the second-largest state in the union by size and population is turning family against family, neighbour against neighbour, to create its own spy network of uterus police. Welcome to Gilead-on-the-Rio Grande. Cue outrage from all Americans who support legal abortion — and, according to recent polls, they amount to 58 per cent of the country.
There is no doubt that SB8 is a huge victory for the pro-life campaign. Texas joins 24 countries worldwide that have a total or near-total ban on abortion. Outside the big cities, large swathes of America are already abortion-free zones: only 11 per cent of counties have a hospital or clinic that provides such services.
In the short term the outlook for that most basic of human rights, a woman’s control over her body, is dire in America. The combination of a Republican-packed Supreme Court, thanks to Donald Trump’s last-minute appointment of Amy Coney Barrett following the death in September last year of Ruth Bader Ginsberg, and SB8’s sneaky bypassing of federal authority has closed down the obvious routes for legal redress. Moreover, the Senate is tied 50-50, making it impossible for Congress to pass a law mandating a woman’s unrestricted access to abortion. The Texas Talibanistas have gained the upper hand. Similar laws to SB8 will no doubt be passed in other Republican states.
The Texas appeal to vigilantism should also offend everyone who believes in democracy and the rule of law. But — and this may be hard to accept in the heat of the moment — SB8 is a gift to the pro-choice movement.
Pro-life Texans thought they were being clever by avoiding both the Supreme Court and Congress to slip through an abortion ban. But, as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. “Lawfare” is a two-way street. Critics of SB8 point out that there is nothing to stop California passing a similar bill that enables citizens to bring civil lawsuits against people who utter “hate speech”, or to stop New York deputising bounty-hunters to sue gun-owners. Nor does the legal chaos stop there. SB8 could open the way for railways, car companies and airlines to become liable for providing travel assistance to an abortion-seeking woman, or supermarkets for selling the disinfectant Lysol and other substances that induce abortion. Forget about boycotts for a moment; the threat of a lawsuit is a powerful deterrent to corporations seeking to do business in Texas.
History is not the best predictor of the future. Nevertheless, the disastrous dalliance with prohibition, which lasted for 13 years between 1920 and 1933, offers a salient lesson in what happens when a long-held individual right is taken away from Americans. The non-metropolitan parts of the country forced their will on the urban parts. But drinking didn’t stop; it just went underground. Some states wouldn’t enforce the ban, and other states couldn’t. In Detroit, Michigan, the alcohol trade was the largest single contributor to the economy after the car industry. Prohibition fostered the American mafia, led to a rise in alcoholism, alcohol-related deaths, mass lawlessness and civil disobedience and brought about extraordinary levels of corruption.
There is every reason to believe that abortions will continue in America no matter what anti-abortion zealots manage to pull off. It just won’t be pretty. A recent study published in The Lancet Global Health revealed that the countries with the greatest restrictions not only have the highest termination rates in the world but are also among the least economically successful. This is the club that awaits pro-life America.
The strangulation of women’s rights has been so slow that supporters of Roe v Wade, the 1973 ruling that made abortion legal, were lulled into a false sense of security. They assumed the minority of Americans fighting for a repeal would never overwhelm the will of the majority. SB8 has changed all that. Its underpinnings threaten so many constitutional rights that abortion is going to be front and centre in every state and federal election.
Democracy does work, even if, as with prohibition, it takes to time to roll back injustices. Last year the Virginia state legislature voted to remove more than a decade’s worth of abortion restrictions. This is the body that in 2012 stood accused of “state-sanctioned rape” for passing a bill that required any woman seeking an abortion to submit to an ultrasound first, not by the usual external method but with a transvaginal wand.
Despite what anti-abortion fanatics believe, the US is a pro-choice country. The fight for women’s rights will go on, and on, until the people win.