The Pen Mightier than the Sword? Tell that to the Maccabees - Smite, Smote, Smitten

As a child, I loved the Old Testament much more than the New, and my favourite passages all involved the Jews smiting the unbeliever.

I am not so sure that the pen is mightier than the sword. Think what horrors might never have been if Marx had been bumped off by a footpad, or Hitler or Stalin fallen to an enemy bullet.

It seems that modern philosophical, moral, ethical, and political thought assumes rational discourse between rational beings. This assumption often proves false because:

1. Either one, or neither of the beings is rational. I heard a woman walking and emptying  her dog on Sunday morning in the local churchyard, say to it, "Hurry up! The bell's ringing. People will be here soon." The dog appeared to understand, and no doubt its owner thought it did. Dialogue with those who support abortion is often not very different. St Nicholas's dispute with Arius is an example.
2. The conversation, spoken or written is between people who have differing, or no, moral or religious beliefs. Sometimes they have a different agenda, which may overide those beliefs.
3. Their is a lack of good will in one or both of the parties.
4. There is a linguistic problem,  because their understanding of the meaning and import of words diverges.
5. There is a linguistic problem,  because at least one of them is  deforming the meaning of, or nuancing, language.
6.  There are certainly more reasons for failure of jaw-jaw as opposed to war-war.

Thinking with great affection, as I often do, of David, King Alfred, the Crusades, Joan of Arc, Don John of Austria, King Jan Sobieski, the fights for Irish, Polish, and Scottish Independence, I am convinced of one thing. As  Clausewitz wrote:

War is not different from diplomacy. It is diplomacy conducted by other means. We see, therefore, that War is not merely a political act, but also a real political instrument, a continuation of political commerce, a carrying out of the same by other means. All beyond this which is strictly peculiar to War relates merely to the peculiar nature of the means which it uses. That the tendencies and views of policy shall not be incompatible with these means, the Art of War in general and the Commander in each particular case may demand, and this claim is truly not a trifling one. But however powerfully this may react on political views in particular cases, still it must always be regarded as only a modification of them; for the political view is the object, War is the means, and the means must always include the object in our conception.

When a nation, creed, or individual is faced by the untruthful, the irrational, the cruel, the opressive, or the murderous, reasonable argument is powerless and fails, and diplomacy should perhaps be continued, but by other means. After all, David, Alfred (sometimes), Don John, and King Jan won.

As the abominable cromwell of evil memory said, "Put your trust in God; but mind to keep your powder dry."

Distant connexions, the contagion of acquaintance

I read in the Times some twenty years or so ago, a letter from a man who, in his youth in the 1920s, had met a woman in her nineties, whose first husband's first wife's first husband had been a friend of Oliver Cromwell. The long time scale was the result of very young people marrying very old people for dynastic reasons.


I forget the names and details, but if anyone can supply them, I shall be very grateful. It would have been very interesting to know her and learn what she had learned about Cromwell from her husband. Also interesting is the idea of being five removes from meeting Oliver Cromwell.


There is I am sure something to be learned from everyone we meet.


I think it was the poet and classicist Robert Graves who told the story of being patted on the head when still a baby by Swinburne, who had been similarly honoured by Wordsworth. Graves's sister, Rosalind Cooper, was my doctor in the 1950s, so I can claim (as who, perhaps, cannot?) a physical connection with Wordsworth, a poet whom I do not much like.



While injecting me in the backside with anti-typhoid vaccine in 1963, she was anxious that I should think well of her brother.



"People think he's very pseudo," she said, "but he's really quite sincere."