A further thought from Latour’s We Have Never Been Modern.

He spends considerable time exposing the clever way so-called modern thinkers both undermine nature and reify it. On the one hand, they are quick to denounce religious activities as being the projections of humans on nature rather than inherent in nature itself. On the other, they maintain that certain features of human society are ‘natural’ and therefore, unassailable. (Latour calls this the “double denunciation.”) (51-53)

In the first denunciation, objects count for nothing; they are just there to be used as the white screen on to which society projects its cinema. But in the second, they are so powerful that they shape the human society, while the social construction of the sciences that have produced them remains invisible. 53

It’s a clever trick and one can see it on display in contemporary culture. Two examples will suffice.

1. We are told both that sexuality is fluid and that genders are social constructs. On the other hand, we’re told that certain people are ‘born’ one way or the other. 
2. We read the reports that men are programmed by evolution to disperse their sperm as far and as widely as possible and that males are naturally more aggressive. Meanwhile we discourage sperm-spreading sex (use protection!) and encourage college men to attend seminars on taming their masculinity. 

And both of these points illustrate one of Latour’s broader points. He begins the book by pointing out that in spite of modernity’s supposed interest in segregating the spheres of science, politics, and ethics, “hybrid” issues (Latour’s term) proliferate. There is no tidy separation science and ethics or science and society. Grand social and political movements are being made in the areas highlighted above alternately appealing to science to shape the policy or the politics to fund the science.

I recently read biographies of Benjamin Franklin and Theodore Roosevelt concurrently: Walter Isaacson’s  Benjamin Franklin and Edmund Morris’s first volume The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt. Both were captivating men.
There are several similarities: both were scientific, both wrote prodigiously, both were very social people, both lived during and heavily influenced key moments in American history.
There are, of course, several differences as well. While Franklin eventually lived quite comfortably, his early life was not as financially secure as Roosevelt’s. Franklin was involved in the formation of a fledgling nation whereas Roosevelt presided over America’s emergence as a world power. Though both men were known for their humor, their personalities were very different. Franklin was light and laid back while Roosevelt was fiery and intense.
But the difference that strikes me most as I read their lives side by side is their personal character and their moral framework. Franklin was known for his simple, practical wisdom. His later political theory was focused on the common good. But, at least in Isaacson’s portrayal, there doesn’t seem to be much depth or firmness to these positions. There is a strong streak of pragmatism. And Franklin seems to have held to these commitments rather lightly and to have lived at the edge of propriety financially and relationally while offering much more stringent advice to others. Further, Isaacson depicts a self-centered and egotistical man more interested in the fawning acclaim of others than in fulfilling duties to his family.
Roosevelt, by contrast, was driven by a strong, unshakeable sense of right and wrong and was eager to defend it. He was abstemious with respect to alcohol, above reproach as concerns the opposite sex, and built his political reputation fighting corruption. There is no doubt that Roosevelt had a healthy ego. But his approach seems to have been more outward focused than that of Franklin.
Both men were products of their time and significant influencers of their times. But while Franklin claimed to be concerned about the common good, Roosevelt seemed to be genuinely concerned about his fellow man.

I love to watch the tendril of smoke rise from a candle recently blown out. The smoke is so responsive to the merest whiff of air and the pattern is never the same. The remaining smoke from the still barely-glowing wick stretches to the ceiling and spreads farther than one expects. Then, without a sound the last glow winks out and soon the smoke disperses.

It is not all beauty, of course, especially if you do not like smoke. While the flame provided light or ambiance, the smoke just lingers and catches in one’s throat. Far easier to cut it short with a quick, sizzling squeeze with spit-gloved fingers.

This was brought to mind recently as I read Matthew’s quotation of Isaiah regarding the Messiah, “A battered reed he will not break off, and a smoldering wick he will not put out.” (Matthew 12:20 from Isaiah 42:3). It seems the Messiah is not into making quick, painless work of the wounded and dwindling.

Our society has not much time for the bruised reed and the smoldering wick. Euthanasia and assisted suicide are quickly becoming not only widely accepted but even socially expected. Doctors counsel abortion to parents of babies with birth defects. The prospect of an imperfect life and our final days of senility or illness are regarded as unproductive and noxious as the smoldering wick. The obvious solution is to cut the slow burn short with a quick, syringe squeeze with latex-gloved fingers.

In our quickness to dispense with the bruised and smoldering among us, we may be well served to recall that elsewhere in Scripture our lives are described as “a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14). Perhaps we should not be too quick to clear our lives of the too-long lingering mists of the lives of others.

I was blessed to be with my grandfather in his waning days. Amazingly, as his wick smoldered, his memory re-fired and I heard stories from his youth that he had never shared in our many years together. To be sure, those last weeks were difficult. But the pattern of beauty that rose from the smoldering wick of his life lingers in my vision to this day.