Anatomy of a Wikillusion Or, how to Rid Yourself of Embarrassing Footnotes in Three Easy Steps….
Posted By Roger Stritmatter on November 5, 2011
One of the truly great things about Wikipedia – a feature that redeems many of the perhaps unavoidable limitations of the project – is that it stores every revision of all its pages, including both entries and talk pages.
There’s a paper trail – always (well, almost always….), a continuous sequence of the revision process, one to which historians of ideas may refer in their never-ending quest to ascertain the dynamics of the evolution of knowledge – or, as in this case, its devolution at the hands of partisan demagogues.
So sit back, dear reader and tighten your seat belt, ‘cause we’re going to take some hairpin turns down the slalom of intellectual history, and make some surprising discoveries about just how much, um, creative iconoclasm, is going on to keep “Shakespeare” safe for the Professoriate.
The story begins with a 2009 article published in a journal, Brief Chronicles, of which I’m proud to be an editor. That article, by German scholar Robert Detobel and the late K.C. Ligon, challenged the longstanding Stratfordian belief that Francis Meres was a reliable witness for the orthodox view of Shakespeare.
I won’t go into any detail enumerating the basis of their argument, beyond saying that, in my opinion, the article had aimed a devastating blow to the orthodox view of Shakespeare. In one fell swoop, Detobel and Ligon had wiped out the traditional belief that Meres was a safe citation for the Stratfordians. Read it for yourself and see if you agree.
If anyone wants to discuss the article, I’d be happy to do so – just so long as you’ve read it first and show me that you understand the argument well enough to offer a credible rejoinder. I won’t be approving the sort of comments, which seem to be rather popular on this topic (perhaps for understandable reasons, given the implications of what Detobel and Ligon have done), that substitute insult for argument.
Figure One: The Wikipedia "Francis Meres" page in February 2010. Click on the image for a readable pop-up.
Our story begins with a Wikipedia revision that I undertook on March 14, 2010 to the Wikipedia page on Francis Meres. Figure One shows the state of the page when I began my edits.
Figure Two: Francis Meres Wikipedia entry following my edits on March 14, 2010.
At that time there was a also note on the talk page asking why there was no list of the Shakespeare plays mentioned in Palladis Tamia.
This did indeed seem like a surprising oversight. So I supplied such a list. I also wrote what was, to me at least, a reasonably fair and balanced treatment of the highly charged role that Francis Meres has played in the history of the authorship debate, including a reference to the most current research by Detobel and Ligon:
Meres has been an important source for both sides in the Shakespearean authorship controversy. In addition to being often cited as evidence for the chronology of the Shakespearean plays, his Palladis Tamia is regarded by orthodox Shakespearean scholars as an important witness to the traditional view of Shakespearean authorship.
However, Meres also mentions Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, as among several who are “the best for comedy amongst us.” This fact has been cited by both sides in the authorship question; to the Oxfordians it has signified that Oxford was known as a prominent comic writer, and they wonder, if this is so, why none of his comedies survive, at least under his own name.
To orthodox scholars, on the other hand, it has seemed that Meres’ double reference to both Shakespeare and Oxford means that he knew that Oxford could not have been the author of the Shakespearean works. A possible solution to this enigma was proposed by Robert Detobel and K.C. Ligon in a 2009 Brief Chronicles article which employs a detailed numerical analysis of the structure of Meres’ “comparative discourse” to argue that while Meres pays lip service to the distinction, on a closer view he actually suggests the identity of Shakespeare and Oxford.
But Stratfordians – at least those active in Wikipedia – are not exactly fond of “fair” or “objective.”
They don’t like de Vere’s name mentioned on any but necessary pages, and they’ll take as much time as needed from their day jobs to make sure that Wikipedia readers never get a hint that there’s a real controversy about anything they don’t like.
They are defending the citadel against the infidel — and that both requires and justifies extraordinary measures, above and beyond the usual call of duty.
Their outlook and modus operandi are perhaps best summarized by Adam Gopnik in his February 2011 New Yorker article:
[one] sees the limits of the so-called extended mind clearly in the mob- made Wikipedia the perfect product of that new vast super-sized cognition: when there’s easy agreement, it’s fine, and when there is widespread disagreement on values or facts as with, say, the origins of capitalism it’s fine too; you get both sides.
The trouble comes when one side is right and the other side is wrong and doesn’t know it. The Shakespeare authorship page and the shroud of Turin page are scenes of constant conflict, and are packed with unreliable information.
Lest one imagine that Gopnik is talking about the “unreliable information” of the Oxfordians, it should be noted for the record that his article was published long after those beacons of Wikipedian enlightenment – Tom Reedy, “Nishidani,” and Paul Barlow (to mention only the most obvious suspects) – had seized control of the Shakespeare authorship page, partly by throwing Richard Waugaman, MD, and Heward Wilkinson, PhD, off of Wikipedia on various trumped-up accusations of the sort on which certain Wikipedia editors seem to be, a little like 17th century Jesuits, experts.
When Gopnik refers to one side being right, and another wrong without knowing it, he’s referring to the logical consequences of the sort of delusional censorship which is our story today.
Along with listing the “Shakespeare” plays to which Meres alludes (which, in retrospect, might well have been more suitably listed, as they now are, but without any real analysis of the central role that Meres has played in the authorship question, here, and certainly with no reference to any “alternative” perspectives about what Meres was actually doing), I committed the greatest sin, apparently, that a Wikipedia editor can commit.
Figure Three: The page as edited 66 minutes later by Tom Reedy. Note that not only the content, but the citation, has been removed.
I listed a source that is not approved by the Denton County Sherriff’s Department.
Within 66 minutes, Tom Reedy (Figure Three), Public Relations specialist for the Department, was on the job. He eliminated not only the list of Shakespeare plays and my analysis, but the footnote to Detobel and Ligon. Reedy added, it is true, several other sources on Francis Meres.
I have no objection to that.
That after all, is what collaborative editing is all about, isn’t it?
But what is the possible justification for eliminating a source to an alternative viewpoint published in a peer reviewed journal – one which, incidentally, has had in its first three years of operation, no less than two articles reprinted by well established academic publishers?
Clearly, as far as Tom Reedy is concerned, the ends justify the means.
He’ll decide what sources Wikipedia readers get to read, and which they don’t.
Reedy did attempt to justify the removal of the citation by saying that the material was not “RS” – “reliable source.”
This is how Wikipedia works when it comes to controversial topics about which, to quote the New Yorker, “one side is wrong and doesn’t know it.”
Edits by tenured University Professors citing peer reviewed articles from a publication that is getting excerpted by Gale (Showerman, 2009) and Palgrave MacMillan (Wainright, forthcoming) get dumped by guys who work in Sherriff’s departments. Senior Wikipedia editors look the other way — after all, someone has to defend Wikipedia from ideas that might make readers actually think.
Who better than the Public Relations wing of the Denton Sherriff’s Department?
To be continued….
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26 Responses to “Anatomy of a Wikillusion Or, how to Rid Yourself of Embarrassing Footnotes in Three Easy Steps….”
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I said I’d go away, but I just want to comment on one last thing…
“Edits by tenured University Professors citing peer reviewed articles from a publication that is getting excerpted by Gale (Showerman, 2009) and Palgrave MacMillan (Wainright, forthcoming) get dumped by guys who work in Sherrif’s departments.”
Your complaint here should, according to your own logic, be the complaint of someone like Greenblatt. In the world view that you adopt above, Greenblatt, a Harvard professor, should never be doubted by a professor at a lesser, non-Ivy school who just isn’t of same stature. In other words, no one with a lesser education or job should ever question someone with a “better” one, according to this view. The above is a very elitist statement and is one that your non-academic Oxfordian colleagues should take offense at, I think.
And now I’m gone.
Not at all. I merely contest the expertise of Mr. Reedy — not to mention his ethics. I don’t contest the expertise of dozens of non-academic “Oxfordians” with whom I have worked, because there’s is a fact-based discourse which does not require slicing and dicing perfectly valid footnotes simply because they happen to point to an alternative construction of reality that we don’t like.
Oxfordians, by and large, prefer Stratfordian footnotes — as they should — over notes to the work of their peers. Being able to cite your critic to agree on a point is a fine art that many Oxfordians practice quite well. It’s sort of the opposite of what Reedy did in this case.
You seem to willfully misunderstand the point. I’m not talking about “doubting” someone. Go back and read the post. It’s about the wholesale destruction — or, rather, in this instance, attempted destruction — of any clues to an alternative way of conceptualizing a problem. Why do you fail to understand that?
“The above is a very elitist statement and is one that your non-academic Oxfordian colleagues should take offense at, I think.”
Right. Go ask them.
Cyncyn,
I am not offended.
Hope this helps.
L.O.
Really? I’m shocked. I must have let my inner elitist run amuck here. Better poll some others, Ox.
I’m sure you’re aware of a much simpler and more detailed solution to the Meres puzzle. Perhaps http://witknitted.wordpress.com/2011/12/30/francis-meres-amazing-hat-trick/ offers another solution. Happy New Year! Cheers, Knit
Just a note for your William-board… I’ve updated my solution to the Meres puzzle http://witknitted.wordpress.com/2012/01/16/francis-meres-amazing-hat-trick-re-capped/ to reflect the actual 1598 copy. Best wishes, Knit
Question please: Why do we think it would be within Meres’ person to reveal someone’s secret? That does seem to go against a minister’s oath. Why would he dishonor God by interfering with a fellow human’s chosen path to Providence? Based on that, aren’t we in effect dishonoring whomever by exposing their secret? What if the “real” author never wanted to be found out?
Hiya Knit,
Thanks for the great questions. I think the only answer is to to cite the principle of ambivalence. I think the idea was, “yes, you can speak about this, but not directly.” I think that’s what de Vere wanted himself. He wanted to be known as the author, but knew that it had to be communicated through cunning indirection. He did it himself, and Meres did it also, if Detobel and Ligon’s analysis can be trusted, which I think it can!
Hi Doc!
The “ambivalence” thing is hard for me to accept. Wasn’t de Vere pretty strong-willed and did what he wanted? If he wanted people to know, seems he would have just said so. Isn’t the intent of secret works to solely benefit humankind? Not for one’s own earthly benefit but rather as part of a spiritual quest to atone for misdeeds so one could enter God’s kingdom? Seems to me secret works would justly be brought to God’s light… not to an earthly light. The themes you’ve identified in de Vere’s Bible are just incredibly revealing. To me, “cunning” doesn’t quite fit the bill.
Just mho. Am still learning. Also, respectfully disagree with Mr. Detobel & Co. but feel that to accept their conclusion is to accept it was common knowledge that Shax was a pseudonym for de Vere which defeats the purpose of the “puzzle” whereas my solution relies on sum legwork and a “little Latin and less Greek”. Thanks for the interesting discussion!
You do realize that without the ambivalence thing (which makes hypocrites of de Vere and Meres), you’ve easily proven the annotator of the Bible was an author of secret works who never intended to be found out. If these same identified Bible themes run throughout the Shax canon and you’ve proven your Bible is de Vere’s, I think you’ve made your case quite nicely. Is there a need for a one-to-one correlation between the de Vere Bible and the Shax canon? Doesn’t the concept of themes work very well for *any* writer?
If so, wouldn’t the need for ciphers, puzzles, who knew what, i.e. any type of outside machinations be pointless? You will have proven your case solely with the secret author’s personally annotated Bible. Can’t you further prove your case by disproving it by comparing the de Vere Bible with other annotated Bibles of the same time period… were the same themes marked?
Perhaps any ambivalence as you suggest on de Vere’s part was related to the government’s explanation that (per the third homily per Shaheen, 1999) “no man can be justified by his own good works… Only the antichrist would affirm “that a man might by his owne workes” purge his own sins.” Isn’t this Protestant view directly opposite the Catholic view? Have a nice day!
Sure, but Matt. 6.1-4, underlined in the de Vere Bible, is closer to the core Christian belief of relevance. Its in the diss.
Goodness. Now you’re dissing me?!! How scholarly is that! So how about God’s law of true sacrifice underlined in the de Vere Bible: Eccl. 35.2 – “he that giveth almes, sacrifiseth praise”. Its in the diss.
BTW… I believe your boy wrote:
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written embassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit
Good grief. Stop messing with that boy’s providence!!
Yes, that is a puzzle, isn’t it?
“Lord of my love.” I can hear it now, without need of CynCyn’s dissertation adviser, “the Earl of Oxford would never have written that….” We know this because we can read his mind.
Yes, some puzzle. So tell me again why we want to go against a person’s character? With Meres we’re saying he’s untrue to God; with deVere, he’s a wimp. I mean, he certainly didn’t stand up for himself. But with the Bible, we’ve got a real person performing an act of charity. Surely deVere wouldn’t have hidden any clues in his Bible. After all he did mark in his Bible the idea that God sees all. So couldn’t the themes of the deVere Bible be proved out with just a few Sonnets? Were the Sonnets written for publication? Meres wrote they were shared among his private friends. BTW… how did Meres know *that* ?
Hi knit,
I’m not sure what you mean by “go against a person’s character”? Can you explain?
Hi Doc!
It seems we’re changing de Vere into a weak person because he hid behind a real person by not openly publishing his own works. Other writers published under their own names. As for Meres and his ministerial duties, I’m a bit disappointed he would write a 600+ page book specifically to reveal someone’s secret. What bothers me is that we’re not accepting these people chose their own paths and that we have some need or right to alter their decisions. I think it’s very humbling to accept de Vere willingly gave up his name for *His* greater good.
Of course, we could easily re-align de Vere with his true character. Let’s say de Vere wrote his own “Bible”. The plays are his scriptures and the Sonnets, his Psalms. Wouldn’t he then need a servant to speak his words? i.e. Will Shakespeare of Stratford… you know… a common man speaking the words of the Lord. hmm… Nah… it would never work. People would have to idolize Shakespeare for hundreds of years.
Hey again,
When Troilus says “I am as true as truth’s simplicity and simpler than the infancy of truth.” wouldn’t he be referring to God? I can’t think of anything or anyone more befitting this riddle. Did everyone back in the day really spend their time and energy writing books about de Vere’s secret? I think we’re missing the beauty of de Vere’s service as an almsgiver is its simplicity… a beauty which leads to a higher truth.
Wouldn’t Sonnets 134-136 refer to God’s will?
134: And I myself am mortgag’d to thy will
135: Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
136: Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love
Aren’t the Sonnets pretty now!
Could be, but it is very close grammatically and semantically to *vero nihil verius,* “nothing truer than the truth” — the de Vere motto. If you look up the whole pattern of the way that the words *true* and *truth* are used in the Sh. canon, you will find many variations on this theme, including the especially apt “after all comparisons of truth, as truth’s authentic author to be cited” (T &C).
Interestingly, the highest concentration of such phrases does occur in *T & C*. There are many reasons why this might be so, but one of them at least is that the play is fundamentally about the problem of truth and rhetoric. The most rhetorical of the plays, it is also the most obsessed with the idea of truth.
A few further comments:
I don’t think that de Vere never wanted to be found out. Quite the opposite. And anyone who has ever played “hide and go seek” should understand that ambivalence about hiding and being found out. I don’t think this makes him a weak person, I think it makes him a very strong person, who realized that the realities of the world demanded the sacrifice of his identity, found precedent for that in the Bible, and fought back in his work while acquiescing to the public directive that he give up his name.
You may want to take a look at some of the recent work on anonymous and pseudonymous authorship in the early modern period. It was extremely common, for a variety of reasons. Richard W. has written more extensively on this than any of the other Oxfordians, and his reviews of some of these works, like Marcy North’s *Anonymous Renaissance,* can be found at http://www.oxfreudian.com/.
Ok, sure the “hide and go seek”. But why use a known actor’s name? Why not use something obviously made-up like Martin Marprelate?
The “realities of the world demanded the sacrifice of his identity” and “acquiescing to the public directive that he give up his name” is what I’m objecting to. My thinking is he wrote a “labor of love”. His writing had *nothing* to do with the real world and/or government policy. Based on the themes of his Bible, we can understand his relationship with God. Am I misreading the charity and secret works themes of the de Vere Bible? I can easily see giving Stratford Shakespeare the benefit of his work was an act of charity by de Vere. That’s well within his identified character. Many individuals had already benefitted from de Vere sponsering their works. Why couldn’t de Vere continue his role as a giving person?
“After all comparisons of truth, as truth’s authentic author to be cited” … Roger, I think the ultimate author of all works is God. Isn’t it a fundamental idea that all things come from God? And that we’re his servants? Mind you I’m Agnostic/Atheist so am trying very hard to be respectful of the idea of God.
Back to the “realities of the world demanded the sacrifice of his identity” and “acquiescing to the public directive that he give up his name”. I think that’s exactly what makes de Vere a weak person. He didn’t stand up for himself. The evidence *shows* time and time again de Vere went against convention. If de Vere didn’t put his name on his works, then why should we?
“His writing had *nothing* to do with the real world and/or government policy.”
Sorry knit, but you need to do some more background reading. This is quite, totally, wrong.
Curious. So are you basing your interpretation of the facts on the 1000 lb annuity he received? And/or the 3rd Homily (i.e. government policy)? I’m basing my ideas on de Vere’s known character. And kindly don’t underestimate the power a change of heart has on a person.
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
I’m basing it primarily on the plays themselves, which are full of innuendo that can only be topical in character.
“And kindly don’t underestimate the power a change of heart has on a person.”
No, m’am…: ) Hope you’re enjoying your free days.
Ok sure. I actually meant his *reason* for writing (his writing vs. his writings). And yes, I do agree the plays are political.
And yes, enjoying my learning period! Appreciate you taking the time to post some further ideas… Many thank yous!! And now, back to the play…
Which brings me back to “nothing truer than the truth”. We know Vere *means* truth but if we say “nothing truer than Vere” that doesn’t quite play well. We also know God *is* truth. “Nothing truer than God” … how’s that for a motto that *no* one can ever defeat!
“For man loketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord beholdeth the heart.” I Saml 16.7
I don’t think this means God is looking into our hearts; I think God is in our hearts. The inner truth is God; not de Vere. I’m just not seeing Will Shax ripping open his blouse to reveal some mutation of de Vere’s head poking alien-like out of his chest.
Okay. One more thing (at least for now
… Do we think maybe Meres recognized from the dedications by Shax in V&A and Lucrece that he was writing “labors of love”? If you read the dedications as if written to God, they seem to just fall into place. Per Meres’ “mellifluous and hony-tongued” as well as “his sugred sonnets”… Aren’t bees the original laborers of love?