3 May. Bistritz — Left Munich at 8:35 P. M., on 1st May, arriving at Vienna early next morning; should have arrived at 6:46, but train was an hour late. Buda-Pesth seems a wonderful place, from the glimpse which I got of it from the train and the little I could walk through the streets. I feared to go very far from the station, as we had arrived late and would start as near the correct time as possible. The impression I had was that we were leaving the West and entering the East; the most western of splendid bridges over the Danube, which is here of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of Turkish rule.
We left in pretty good time, and came after nightfall to Klausenburgh. Here I stopped for the night at the Hotel Royale. I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika hendl," and that, as it was a national dish, I should be able to get it anywhere along the Carpathians. I found my smattering of German very useful here; indeed, I don't know how I should be able to get on without it.
Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina.
In the population of Transylvania there are four distinct nationalities: Saxons in the South, and mixed with them the Wallachs, who are the descendants of the Dacians; Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in the East and North. I am going among the latter, who claim to be descended from Attila and the Huns. This may be so, for when the Magyars conquered the country in the eleventh century they found the Huns settled in it. I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting. (Mem., I must ask the Count all about them.)
I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept and was wakened by the continuous knocking at my door, so I guess I must have been sleeping soundly then.
I had for breakfast more paprika, and a sort of porridge of maize flour which they said was "mamaliga," and egg-plant stuffed with forcemeat, a very excellent dish, which they call "impletata." (Mem., get recipe for this also.) I had to hurry breakfast, for the train started a little before eight, or rather it ought to have done so, for after rushing to the station at 7:30 I had to sit in the carriage for more than an hour before we began to move. It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?
All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floods. It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear. At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets and round hats and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque. The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waist. They had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them. The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nails. They wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustaches. They are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessing. On the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigands. They are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion.
It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old place. Being practically on the frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of it. Fifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasions. At the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease.
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country. I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white undergarment with long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?" "Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker." She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirt-sleeves, who had followed her to the door. He went, but immediately returned with a letter:
"My Friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.
This year I designed and taught a number of new modules in my new job and I’ll be posting my syllabi for them over the summer while I finally get time to catch my breath and think about how to rework the modules from this year that I’ll be teaching next year, alongside planning a new undergraduate ecclesiology module and a new MA level module on mystical theology in the Abrahamic traditions that I’m really excited about, and which will be the first of the modules I’ll teach at DCU I’ve actually designed myself. This module was designed for our part time, evening BA in Theology and Religious Studies, and was taught over five weeks in 3-4 hour session. It was surprisingly fun for a module about such unrelentingly grim things. Thanks are due to various people who helped me pull this together all at quite short notice, but especially to Jake Erickson and to Anthony Paul Smith.
Week 1: What is the Problem of Evil? This week we’ll spend some time introducing the module, beginning to think about the God question and the problem of evil. Then we’ll take a look at some of the classical Christian texts about the nature of God and evil, focusing on the excerpts from Irenaeus, Augustine and Dionysius which are this week’s required reading.
Required Reading: ‘Irenaeus’, ‘Augustine’ and ‘Dionysius’ extracts from Mark J. Larrimore (ed), The Problem of Evil: A Reader. Blackwell, 2001.
Recommended Reading: ‘Job’s Question’ in Navid Kermani, The Terror of God: Attar, Job and the Metaphysical Revolt. Polity, 2011.
Week 2: The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea This week we’ll think about some of the ways that classical Christian ideas about God and evil related to questions of power and violence. How did Christians think about the relationship between good and evil? How was evil understood in relation to questions of law and order? How did beliefs about hell and the devil shape how Christians thought about the societies they lived in? How did ideas about the nature of God and goodness shape how Christians thought about social, political and economic hierarchies?
Recommended Reading: Stump, Eleonore. ‘Providence and the Problem of Evil’. Oxford Handbook of Aquinas. Brian Davies ed. 2012.
Week 3: Theodicy This week we’ll look at some of the distinctive ways that the problem of suffering begins to emerge in modernity, along with new ways of thinking about the nature of God, the individual, and the foundations of social order.
Required Reading: ‘Voltaire’, ‘Hobbes’ and ‘Leibniz’ extracts from Mark J. Larrimore (ed), The Problem of Evil: A Reader. Blackwell, 2001.
Recommended Reading: ‘Kant’, ‘Schopenhauer’ and ‘Hegel’ extracts from Mark J. Larrimore (ed), The Problem of Evil: A Reader. Blackwell, 2001.
Week 4: Evil in God’s Name One of the ways that evil is a problem for Christian theology is that throughout history, some Christians have done things in the name of God which other Christians have considered to be evil. This week we’ll spend some time thinking about some ways that Christians have justified inflicting suffering on other people, and reflecting on what this means for the God question and the problem of evil.
Required Reading: Humbert of Romans, ‘Opus Tripartitum’ in Riley-Smith, Louise, and Jonathan Simon Christopher Riley-Smith. ‘The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274’. 1981.
Recommended Reading: Nigel Biggar, ‘Individual Rights versus Common Security? Christian Moral Reasoning about Torture’ in Studies in Christian Ethics 27.1 (2014), 3-10 (this nasty little piece takes a very unpleasant delight in superfluously graphic descriptions of torture and I regretted not giving my students a heads up about this earlier in the semester)
Week 5: Reconsiderations
Required Reading: Extracts from Gustavo Gutiérrez, On Job : God-Talk and the Suffering of the Innocent. Orbis Books, 1987.
Recommended Reading: ‘God Can’t Prevent Evil’ from Oord, Thomas Jay. God Can’t: How to Believe in God and Love after Tragedy, Abuse, and Other Evils. SacraSage Press, 2019.
General Bibliography Adams, Marilyn McCord. Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God. Cornell University Press, 2000. Armstrong, Amaryah. ‘Christian Order and Racial Order: What Cedric Robinson Can Teach Us’. The Bias, 3 June 2020, https://christiansocialism.com/2020/06/03/cedric-robinson-racial-order-christianity-socialism/. Griffin, David Ray. God, Power, and Evil: A Process Theodicy. Westminster John Knox Press, 2004. Gutiérrez, Gustavo. On Job : God-Talk and the Suffering of the Innocent. Orbis Books, 1987. Hart, David Bentley. The Doors of the Sea: Where Was God in the Tsunami? Eerdmans, 2011. Jantzen, Grace. Becoming Divine : Toward a Feminist Philosophy of Religion. [Bloomington, Ind], 1999. Jones, William R. Is God a White Racist? A Preamble to Black Theology. 1973 Kermani, Navid. The Terror of God: Attar, Job and the Metaphysical Revolt. Polity, 2011. Kilby, Karen. God, Evil and the Limits of Theology. 2020. ———. Suffering and the Christian Life. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2019. Kitamori, Kazoh. Theology of the Pain of God: The First Original Theology from Japan. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2005. Kotsko, Adam. The Prince of This World. Stanford University Press, 2016. Larrimore, Mark J. The Problem of Evil: A Reader. Blackwell, 2001. Levenson, Jon D. Creation and the Persistence of Evil: The Jewish Drama of Divine Omnipotence. Princeton University Press, 1994. Löwy, Michael. Fire Alarm: Reading Walter Benjamin’s’ On the Concept of History’. Verso Books, 2016. McCabe, Herbert. Faith within Reason. A&C Black, 2007. ———. God Matters. A&C Black, 2005. McGill, Arthur Chute. Suffering: A Test of Theological Method. Westminster John Knox Press, 1982. Oord, Thomas Jay. God Can’t: How to Believe in God and Love after Tragedy, Abuse, and Other Evils. SacraSage Press, 2019. Pinn, Anthony B. Why, Lord?: Suffering and Evil in Black Theology. Bloomsbury Publishing, 1999. Riley-Smith, Louise, and Jonathan Simon Christopher Riley-Smith. ‘The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274’. 1981. Sontag, Susan. Regarding the Pain of Others. Penguin, 2004. Stump, Eleonore. ‘Providence and the Problem of Evil’. Oxford Handbook of Aquinas. Brian Davies ed. 2012. Surin, Kenneth. Theology and the Problem of Evil. Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2004. Tilley, Terrence W. The Evils of Theodicy. Georgetown University Press, 1991. Vincent, Alana M. ‘Dissenting from Redemption: Judaism and Political Theology’. European Judaism [Amsterdam], vol. 50, no. 1, 2017, pp. 32–40, https://doi.org/10.3167/ej.2017.500106. Zizek, Slavoj, and Boris Gunjevic. God in Pain: Inversions of Apocalypse. Seven Stories Press, 2012.
Assignment This final assignment will count for 100% of your overall mark for the module. You will be asked to write a 2500 word (+/-10%) essay in response to one of the following questions:
C S Lewis: “If Christianity is true then it ought to follow (a) That any Christian will be nicer than the same person would be if he were not a Christian. (b) That any man who becomes a Christian will be nicer than he was”. Discuss.
William R Jones, “Black theology, precisely because of the prominence of ethnic suffering in the black experience, cannot operate as if the goodness of God for all mankind were a theological axiom”. Discuss.
Karen Kilby, “Christian theology ought neither to construct theodicies, nor ignore the kinds of problem theodicies try to address. It ought instead to acknowledge itself to be faced with questions it cannot answer.” Discuss.
Dorothee Soelle, ‘Any attempt to look upon suffering as caused directly or indirectly by God stands in danger of regarding him as sadistic’. Discuss.
Kenneth Surin, ‘Doing theodicy … as if it were an essentially ‘theoretical’ and ahistorical activity … not only frustrates historically situated reflection on the manifold forms and occurrences of evil, but also militates against a properly Christian response to the ‘problem of evil’. EITHER discuss this claim OR pick one of the thinkers we have read over the course of the module and consider their account of evil in relation to the historical context in which they were/are writing.
Discuss one of the following pieces of fiction which address the problem of evil in light of the materials we have covered over the module:
Pick one event, recent or historical, which raises the problem of evil. What kinds of questions does this event raise about the god question and the problem of evil, and how might those questions be addressed?
CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. If you would like to write your essay on a topic other than those set out in the questions above, you are free to do so on the condition that you a) pick a topic that will enable to you to meet the learning outcomes and b) get my approval for your chosen essay topic before you submit the essay. I’m really happy to talk over ideas with you and suggest readings etc. but you MUST get in touch with me before you submit your final essay.
If you are responding to one of the prompts which asks you to discuss a quotation, you can choose either to engage extensively with the thinker the quotation is taken from or simply to use the quotation as a way into talking about themes and ideas in the thinkers and texts we’ve studied in this module.
Your essay can draw on a mixture of texts from the module, texts from the module bibliography, and texts that you’ve found yourself. You should cite at least four scholarly sources. Your essay should use quotations as evidence, either to back up your overall argument, or to dissect in order to discuss the thinker or text you are discussing. You should not directly cite lecture materials.
Your essay must have a thesis: a central idea or insight which is arguable (i.e. someone could disagree with it).
Let's consider how over the last while even audiophile magazines have wondered about the High-End Audio Industry's escalation in suggested retail prices for their products.
A year ago, Stereophile attempted to answer "Why Hi-Fi Prices Have Risen". To be fair, I think Jim Austin in the article made some good points about inflation, tariffs, etc. I'm glad that the article also acknowledged the fact that for years now, each generation of "high-end" audio products seemingly have also been just getting more expensive, untethered from inflationary expectations.
Grab a nice beverage, have a seat. Let's talk about prices in audiophilia. Is it true that the "high end" has become much more expensive?
[Some of these thoughts will trickle into the psychology of other luxury products beyond audio. Also, we'll be talking about dollars and cents in this post. Since most audiophile goods are priced in US dollars, let's use that through this post, with early April 2026 currency conversion as needed.]
Significant changes in the UI from the previous CTXMatrixBeta release.
You might recall, last year STC contributed a post on CTXMatrixBeta DSP for Windows. Well, it's great to see that he has continued to develop the software with updated user interface and abilities, this latest edition renamed CTXMatrix Lite, currently at version 1.3. It now includes a standalone processor which I'll spend some time discussing in this post, along with the 64-bit VST3 plugin as shown above that can be used in JRiver, Audirvāna and DAW software like Reaper.
Furthermore, there is now a VST3 plugin for Linux. Since I primarily use Windows for my music listening and processing, I'll stick with the Windows variant here with the hopes that some of this will be applicable. In my discussions with STC, he's aware of interest from Mac OSX users.
Perhaps the most important update in the last few months is that there is now improved support for standard ~60° stereo speaker angle (typically, the recommendation is 20-30° in ambiophonics). As a result, one should have a much better experience with the effect on most set-ups. In particular, hopefully more desktop computer music lovers will give this a listen without needed to move the speaker position and explore what you might be missing in your existing music library.
It's taking a bit longer for my testing of the inexpensive I²S/IIS/I2S-HDMI DDC boxes due to some unexpected results which I'm chasing down currently; hopefully that gets resolved or understood soon.
In the meantime, let me address something that folks might be curious about related to this topic of the I2S-HDMI interface... Does the HDMI cable make a difference to the sound quality?
As with much of audiophilia wherein some members of the culture have the belief that "everything makes a difference", obviously this is not the case and I do not recommend this kind of mindset. There are many things that don't make much, if any difference (as discussed here and here) based on experience and understanding principles of the technology.
Since I have not seen measurements examining the effect of HDMI cables on I²S performance from a DAC, let's do some testing here.
Hey everyone. I'm still waiting to finish the measurements and write-up of the USB DDC boxes discussed last time (a few things I need to double check on!). In the meantime, I thought I'd share some thoughts and pictures with you of a visit I made to a friend, Paul's, place. You'll see that he is much more of a "subjectivist" than I am.
Above, we see his listening room which is capable of multichannel playback as well for music and movies. He's a multichannel enthusiast who values the immersive experience and has a large library of surround content in PCM and DSD - great to see!
Clearly, Paul is a Linn fan with almost an all-Linn system. He has front Linn Akubarik Exakt (Katalyst) active speakers, an Akurate 225 center channel, and a pair of Akudoriks as rear/side channels. Over the years, he has been experimenting with Linn Space Optimisation and wrote an article about his experiences (he contacted me after he saw my tests with Linn SO last year).
This SMSL unit also does MQA decoding for those who want the feature. Unlike the Douk, this box only has an LED to indicate MQA decoding status but does not tell us the PCM or DSD samplerate.
While I've tested some inexpensive devices (like the Topping D10s DAC) which have the ability to convert USB 2.0 input into S/PDIF output, I have not specifically looked into these Digital-to-Digital Converter boxes which some audiophile reviewers (like this fellow, and this) seem to rave about.
For me, there just hasn't been any reason to be particularly interested since other than conversion from one interface type to another, the other promise of such devices - the reclocking capability - just hasn't been of great interest to me. As far as I can tell from listening, it's not like jitter has ever really been much of an issue unless severely bad for any decent modern device I've ever come across even at low price points (nor was jitter really an issue even with old CD players)!
However, since I have not tested I²S/I2S/IIS, I figure I'd buy both the Douk Audio U2 PRO 2025 upgrade version (US$63; Amazon Canada) and SMSL PO100 PRO (US$74; Amazon Canada) boxes to try out; have a listen and run some measurements. Unfortunately due to time limits, I'm not quite ready to show the measurements yet, so keep an eye out for those results, perhaps next week! For now let's just introduce you to these devices and talk about the I²S-HDMI connection.
As typical of the majority of my reviews/critiques, I bought these through retail channels.
It's an interesting experience I think to pop into local "brick and mortar" audiophile stores when traveling (like this, this, this over the years). This past week, I've been in San Francisco visiting family. We happened to stay within walking distance from what I think is the most well-stocked audiophile gear store in the city - Audio Vision San Francisco- located in the Nob Hill neighborhood. They're opened on weekends, closed on Tuesday, and by appointment on Mondays.
Chatting with the salesperson, I was told the store opened about 26 years ago. I suspect most audiophiles will be impressed when you walk into the store and see their selection of gear sitting in the hallway!
For this post, let's discuss a few other audiophile items that have come my way in recent weeks.
First, let's talk about something I haven't brought up for awhile now: sample rate conversion (SRC).
A few weeks ago, Spoon (a.k.a. Steven Elkins of Illustrate) sent me an E-mail about his new src.hydrogenaudio.org page evaluating and ranking the qualities of various software sample rate converters. I believe the page has been online since late 2025. Check out the forum discussion about the project as well.
Let's have some fun this week on miscellaneous topics.
Occasionally, I'll highlight items I've either written or found on audio discussion forums I think would be good to share. One reason I decided to start doing a blog beyond just contributing to forum discussions was precisely because while the public forums are great for interactions with community members, meaningful posts often become obscured behind pages and pages of chit chat, irrelevant responses, and sometimes unpleasant arguments.
[I've unfortunately witnessed situations where very meaningful threads are closed off prematurely based on the bias of moderators. Even worse, threads with useful discussions might be erased entirely from existence which I feel is an slap in the face of well-meaning participants who put their time and efforts into thoughtful reflections. This is nothing new in the audiophile world; for example last year Stereophile scrubbed their website of all public comments accumulated over decades!
While I acknowledge the right of a website's owner to do such things, that doesn't make it any more palatable. I certainly understand the need for moderation in removing nonsensical, trollish, unethical, or crude statements that add nothing to promote thoughtful discussions.]
Speaking of forums and websites, I thought here in early 2026 it would be fun to explore website traffic numbers of some of the most common audiophile/audio sites using a common metric. One can get monthly visit numbers from Similarweb for free, a well-known website traffic tracker.
Last week, I discussed the miniDSP UMIK-2 USB measurement microphone and as I mentioned then, it's not often that we see much discussion about these devices among audiophiles even though they are important in helping us chase down sonic problems and of course to calibrate the sound system. To me, that calibration process is an essentialpart of achieving a truly "accurate" sound system once we sort out basic room set-up; assuming high-fidelity accuracy is what you're after of course!
So, before heading off to other topics, I thought I'd explore a little more about this device.
Well, as mentioned previously, it was a great holiday season and here's another gift from Audio-Santa 🙂 - the miniDSP UMIK-2 measurement microphone. I bought this through Solen.ca here in Canada and they did a great job with the order and quick shipment. Amazon Canada often has limited stock of miniDSP products.
I'm sure the miniDSP company is well known to many audiophiles at this point. I bet many of you, like myself, already have one of their UMIK-1 microphones which I've used in a number of the acoustic measurements on this blog since 2019.
As you can imagine, the UMIK-2, initially released in late 2020, is an evolution of the UMIK-1 with upgrades which we'll talk about. First, let's have a peek at the physical device itself.
Over the holidays, Santa brought me a new SVS SB-2000 Pro subwoofer (currently US$900 black ash, US$1000 piano black, Canada: black ash, piano black) for the system in the sound room. As you can see, I got the slightly more expensive shiny piano black version. As usual, I bought this from typical consumer channels.
On this blog, we've talked about full-range sound, including the importance of subwoofer(s) in order to experience "fully" all there is in our recordings. As a pop, rock, electronica, orchestral, movie-lover, the ability to experience down to 20Hz (even a little lower into "infrasound") with adequate power, and low distortion is all part of what it means to achieve "high-fidelity" audio that is transparent to the source recording. As usual, it doesn't mean I can't enjoy my music without these sub-bass frequencies! It's just nice to know that I'm not neglecting content present in those lower registers as provided by artists and audio engineers.
During the pandemic, in the spring of 2020, I bought myself an inexpensive 8" Polk PSW111 to use as an "accessory" subwoofer to help fill-in the bass response in concert with the mighty Paradigm SUB1 (1700Wrms, 6 x 8" drivers), my main subwoofer that achieves frequency response down below 20Hz. For these last 5+ years, the little Polk has done its job reasonably well but it clearly has limits. For example, when pushed up in level, I can hear the "chuffing" from the small ~4" diameter down-facing port. Also, a ported 8" sub like this can really only be expected to reproduce down to the mid-30Hz at best.
And so, moving ahead, let's spend some money to retire that little Polk sub to my main floor living room, making space for this SVS! 😁
Hope you're all having a wonderful Christmas-New Year Holiday season!
On Christmas morn 2025, as I relaxed in the sitting room waiting for the rest of the family to get ready for some holiday festivities, listening to holiday music, I could not help but marvel at the fact that my little Logitech Squeezebox Radio sitting over the fireplace, released back in 2009 continues to go strong all these years later. The Squeezebox products including the Radio were some of the first devices I posted about with measurements in the early days of this blog.
I think it's an obvious reminder that even though time flies, music preferences and artists change, hardware gets upgraded and new technologies show up at our homes, the ability to enjoy music need not be tied into the hardware obsessionality that can consume audiophiles. We can derive much joy out of even a simple mono "radio" device like this.
Although Logitech got out of Squeezebox hardware production way back in 2012, they continued the official MySqueezebox.com servers until March 2024. I actually didn't even notice this change as I've been using my own Logitech Music Server (LMS) home system since something like 2008.
While LMS development has stopped, it's great to see that the good folks have continued to work on this venerable music streaming system as Lyrion Music Server.
As we can see, there is this ongoing conflict between Danny and Amir/Audio Science Review (ASR) over the years. Obviously, ASR has been highly critical of some GR-Research products like their power cable and speaker designs. I think that's to be expected; since when did objective-leaning audiophiles care for US$400+ power cables? Objective reviews naturally compare metrics and seek out good value so high-priced items that cannot show improvements in the measurements (nor with controlled listening) simply cannot be recommended.
Given that Danny made this video voluntarily, released publicly, I assume he wanted to foster discussion, so let's get into this for a bit.
First, consider the title - "Measurements vs Listening — and the History of a Site with an Agenda". Sure, Audio Science Review has an agenda and it's different from Danny's. There's nothing wrong with that and in fact is to be expected for anyone trying to publicly make a point to influence others! I'd be dishonest if I claim to have no agenda either given the kinds of articles I write in these pages. Here are some of the items on my agenda list:
A. To discuss audiophile topics through a "more objective", rational lens.
B. When I review stuff, to aim to show demonstrable effects (measurements, graphs, etc.).
C. To speak clearly when products appear to be Snake Oil.
I trust that none of those 3 points above would be a surprise to anyone who has read an article or two around here.
Similar to the Fosi LC30, this is also an analog meter with 2-in/2-out switcher which will allow you to select one of two amplifiers and two speakers. As a "Pro" model however, this box has been upgraded with a few funky features over the first version which we'll talk about.
As usual, I bought this from standard retail channels; no contact with the manufacturer.
These days we have AI making hit music, and AI actors coming soon. The AI industry is "hot" and impressive, seemingly the answer to all kinds of queries we may have right at our keyboards! I think it's absolutely true that with the advent of LLM's and multi-modal deep learning models, we have even more ability now to learn, analyze, and summarize all kinds of information unheard of just a few years back. Like all things, there's always a catch which is that we have to use the tools responsibly and we need to make sure not to be overly reliant on these things because the results can also easily be wrong, like the "hallucinations" (more like "confabulations") that happen still all too often during AI chats.
So I guess it's natural then that audiophiles might want to apply the technology to answer some of audiophilia's deepest never-ending debates - the stuff at the heart of numerous snake oil products.
The other day, I ran into an interesting New Record Day / Ron Brenay video where he uses ChatGPT to assess room audio recordings either from components using stock power cables, or through a new fancy GR-Research power conditioner called the "UberBUSS Power Filtration System" starting at US$1,600 that Danny Richie obviously is getting all excited about (my goodness, everything is "another level" with this guy - how many levels are there with mature technology?). This UberBUSS is further paired with his poorly reviewed US$380-$480 B24 power cable for the test.
[I see the UberBUSS isn't a totally new power filter, non-surge suppression product. Apparently it has been out since before 2021, earliest mention 2018, made by P.I. Audio Group which I guess is now defunct? If at first you don't succeed... Keep trying?]
Let's have a look at this video and what's being done...
Hello! Editor Matt here. A quick reminder: you’re getting this email because you signed up for Dracula Daily, the email newsletter that sends you the full text of Dracula in real time. If that doesn’t sound familiar, you can unsubscribe at the link at the bottom of this email.
If that DOES sound familiar - you’re in the right place. The story of Dracula starts on May 3, which means we’re starting in less than two weeks. Dracula is fun to read along with people, so if there’s anybody in your life you’d like to join this book club with, get ‘em on board now! :)
On May 3 you’ll get the first section of the book, as we meet Jonathan Harker. After that, you’ll only get emails on days when there’s action in the book.
And like last year, I’m also running Dracula Weekly - this is the optional ‘supporter’ level of Dracula Daily. Dracula Daily has always been free, and to be clear, it will continue to be free. It’s too much fun to restrict to only people who pay money. If you received this newsletter in your inbox, you don’t need to do anything else: you’ll get the full book Dracula emailed to you in real time, bit by bit.
But some of you have chosen to support this project by using one of the subscription levels that the newsletter platform offers here. This means the world to me, and definitely is a part of why I chose to do this again in 2026. You guys are so great!
Also I think it’s time to confess something. Among friends, I have been referring to the supported-tier of Dracula Daily as my OnlyFangs.
Anyways.
This year paid subscribers will get:
weekly subscriber-only posts, which cover a summary of the reading (in case you got behind) and a smattering of related jokes and memes and stuff
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and this year, I’m going to mail you some band-aids.
Did you say band-aids?
Yeah! Well ‘adhesive bandage’ is the correct term, since BAND-AID® is a registered trademark. But this has got to be like a Kleenex® situation by now, right?
But YES. I was thinking about making stickers or badges or something to celebrate this year, and my brilliant wife Erika suggested instead: custom bandages.
So yes! I made custom Dracula Daily themed adhesive bandages, so you can patch up (or conceal) those tiny throat wounds. Don’t cause your loved ones undue concern! Those little punctures on your neck are probably no big deal.
I’m not selling these - I’ll just send them out in the postal mail as a way to say thank you to people that support the project. I’ll send out a link in our first weekly roundup email and you can claim your bandages, and then I’ll get them in the mail for you.
And really: it’s just a little thank you. You should only pay actual money to Dracula Daily if you want to throw your support behind the project!
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As I write this piece, US and Israeli bombs continue to fall on Iran. US secretary of defence Pete Hegseth, author of American Crusade, tattooed with Christian insignia including both a Jerusalem Cross and a Chi Rho, recently quoted the Bible at a Pentagon briefing.[3] A few weeks ago, Christian pastors gathered in the Oval Office to pray for Trump as he led the US into war.[4] Theologian James Orr was recently appointed head of policy for Reform UK.[5] Billionaire Peter Thiel — friend of Jeffrey Epstein, fan of Tolkien, and founder of Palantir — continues to tour his Girardian theology of the end times, according to which we are invited to view Greta Thunberg as the avatar of the antichrist.[6] Perhaps the problem contemporary theology faces as a discipline is not so much its failure as its success.
But we are here to talk about failure. I have argued elsewhere that if there is one thing that Christians can agree on, it is that theology has failed. I am conscious that not all SST members are Christians, and I so hope it is not too much of a colonizing move to suggest that we might broaden this still further: if there is one thing we can all agree on, it is that theology has failed. Things become tricky only when we try to pin down precisely what has gone wrong, and why. In this paper I will take as my starting point a 2024 paper by Esther McIntosh and Anupama Ranawana, which argues that SST specifically has failed in the face of the ongoing genocide in Palestine. I will suggest that failure is best understood neither as a falling away from an original goodness or as a disordering of theology’s inherent orientation towards a particular telos but as inherent and constitutive. The question we should be asking is not how to stop failing but, rather, how to relate to failure. Whether or not we are willing to acknowledge it, theology has always renewed itself through its liaisons with its others, and I will argue that the work of psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan offers us resources for considering this question – how to relate to failure? If Palestine is now, as Steven Salaita argues, an “avatar of campus suppression”, it is because it also condenses so many of the urgent crises we face today.[7]
If I am pessimistic about the possibility of our agreeing on the nature of theological failure, then all the more so about the possibility that we might agree on what theology is. For the purposes of this paper, let us assume that (to lightly paraphrase the SST constitution) ‘theology’ refers to everyone engaged in what they consider to be theology, across a wide range of contexts including the academy and the churches. Theology is done not only in preaching, teaching, and research, but also in the work of making and remaking the institutions in and by which theology is done – in administration, in informal networks of influence and prestige, in mentoring and pastoral care just as much as in gossip and in whisper networks. I think it is crucial, as theologians, that we reflect not only on what we think, but also on what we do, consciously and unconsciously. I am conscious here that my primary location in a university will shape what I say, and want to emphasise that this is not intended in any way to disparage or dismiss the theological work done in churches and elsewhere (some of my best friends are priests).
To begin, then. In their 2024 paper, ‘Silence is Complicity: Theological Failure in the Face of Genocide’, Esther McIntosh and Anupama Ranawana argue that SST has failed in the face of the ongoing genocide in Palestine.[8] “This failure”, they argue, “in the form of theological silence, is complicity” in the ongoing injustices suffered by Palestinians.[9] This silence, the authors argue, is in conflict with SST’s 2016 Theology and Race report, which argued that “British academic theologians need to engage critically with the role of race in the formation of the discipline in the context of race in the UK and the British Empire.”[10] Since McIntosh and Ranawana’s paper was published, SST has sought to address the issue of Palestine in both speech and action. The Society organised an online event on “Theology and the War in Gaza” in 2024, issued a public statement in 2025, and in 2025 also decided to relocate from the University of Warwick, where staff and student campaigns to end the university’s complicity in “genocide, the arms trade & occupied apartheid Palestine” have so far been unsuccessful.[11] Despite these developments, I think that McIntosh and Ranawana are right to see in SST’s response to the genocide a failure. But their critique gives us too much credit.
Theology has a long history when it comes to justifying slaughter. In 1274 Humbert of Romans, Master General of the Dominican Order, wrote a treatise which set out to theologically justify the crusades and to respond to various critics who saw crusading as incompatible with the demands of Christianity.[12] Some people, he said, were arguing that it was wrong for Christians to shed blood. After all, don’t the examples of Christ and the martyrs demonstrate that the truly Christian path is to turn the other cheek and to refuse violence, even if it costs us our lives? Ah, says Humbert, there is a time to build and a time to tear down buildings, a time to refuse the sword and a time to take it up. What if infidels wanted to kill every Christian and erase Christianity from the face of the earth; surely then Christians would not continue to preach peace? There is no end to the hostility and ill-will of the Muslims, he claims. How can Christians accept the occupation of the land of Israel by such an evil people, who do not allow for true Christian worship? Did not God command the Hebrews never to make treaties with the worshippers of false gods who occupied the promised land? The Crusaders, Humbert insists, are not invading other people’s territory, but taking back their own land, the land which God gave first to the Jews and then to the Christians.
Humbert goes on to remind his readers of Jesus’ parable about a field where the wheat was growing alongside weeds. The servants of the field’s owner asked if they should pull up the weeds, but the owner told them to hold back – pulling up the weeds would also damage the wheat. Instead, he said, the servants should wait until harvest time to separate out the good plants from the bad. But what of a field which has only weeds and no wheat? Should the plants not all be pulled up? Is the Holy Land not like a fig tree which bears no fruit, and should be cut down; or like the city of Sodom, in which not even ten good men could be found, and which should be razed to the ground with fire?
The editors’ note I have attached to my copy of Humbert’s text says that his arguments “would certainly not convince anyone today”.[13] But they are all too familiar.[14] Humbert draws on biblical passages in which God commands the Hebrew people to enter the promised land and to wipe out its existing inhabitants; to erase their religion, their culture, and their memory from the earth. Contemporary scholarship suggests that this violent erasure of the Canaanites never actually took place (at least not on anything like the scale imagined by the biblical text). But the texts come to us now dripping with blood, thanks to the work of Christian interpreters in whose hands it became a warrant not only for the ultimately failed Christian attempt to recapture Jerusalem for Christianity, but also for the brutal expulsion of Jews and Muslims from medieval Spain, and for the modern invention of settler colonialism.[15] As Robert Warrior and Roxane Dunbar-Ortiz have shown, the theological tools developed by Humbert and his contemporaries to justify the Crusades were wielded once again during the conquest of the Americas and European attempts to wipe indigenous Americans from the face of the earth.[16] They are wielded again today both by Christian Zionists and by the state of Israel, arguing that the mass killing and starvation of Palestinians is both necessary and morally justified.
As Warrior points out, the other side of the story of the liberation of the Hebrew people from captivity in Egypt is the story of their conquest of the land of Canaan, and God’s injunctions to wipe the Canaanites from the face of the earth.[17] It is tempting, in the face of horrors committed in the name of God, to move to disavowal, to insist that these things are not Christian, that theology cannot be claimed as a warrant for such obscenity. But to make this claim is not only to fail to face up to the reality of the discipline which has formed us, it is also to fall into the very logic which so often legitimizes Christian violence.
As Daniel Boyarin argues, the emergence of Christian identity is centrally tied to the distinction of heresy. In inventing heresy, Christianity draws for itself a border, a partition line which cuts artificially across the divisions which formerly defined the world from which it was born — between Jew and Greek, enslaved and free, male and female — and brings into being a new and more absolute distinction between Christian and non-Christian.[18] As Denise Kimber Buell has it, this distinction produces not only a new divide between Christians and non-Christians but also Christian universalism, composed of three claims: that Christianity is one thing — that it consists of a unified set of beliefs and practices — that anyone can become a Christian, and that everyone should become a Christian.[19] As Gil Anidjar puts it,
Christianity, the Jesuic distinction in humanity (if I may propose this awkward rephrasing of Jan Assmann’s “Mosaic distinction”), is the difference between innocence and guilt as the basis of human society, the difference across humanity, between the old and guilty (humans) and the new and innocent (Christians). It is indeed the advent of a new humanity. From now on, may God protect the humanity of old.[20]
Both the desire to see Christianity as one thing only and the attempt to identify a purely liberatory core to Christianity in relation to which all other elements of Christian tradition are corruptions or degenerations mirror the theological logics of sexual, racial, and ethnic purity which have profoundly shaped Christianity across its history. They obscure the ways that liberation theologies so often remain implicated in the very systems which they seek to oppose;[21] the difficult, skilful, and creative work which goes into the endless remaking of Christian theology for new times, places, and contexts;[22] and the ways in which liberatory forms of Christianity have been shaped not only by Christian tradition but by Christians’ relations with those outside of the church. Christianity has never been simply the passing down of traditions or the preservation of an original message. Fidelity to Christian tradition is always also betrayal, miscegenation, and mutation.[23]
If we want to think about theology and its failure in the face of the genocide in Palestine, we cannot simply seek to exonerate some pure essence of Christianity from responsibility. We must instead confront the ways in which theology has functioned — and continues to function — as one element of the machinery of this abomination. Theology is deeply implicated in the logics of supersession, anti-Judaism, and philosemitism on which not only Christian Zionism but also Christian nationalism, secular modernity, and the modern nation state rely; and in the ideology and practices of settler colonialism, Islamophobia, Orientalism, and racism on which our world is founded.[24] The systems of secular politics, international law and human rights which have — for all their supposedly universal values — so signally failed to stop the ongoing slaughter of Palestinians draw deep from theological wells. More directly, the theological academy is deeply tied to the Zionist project, most especially so in biblical studies whose entanglement in the ongoing settler colonial project includes both participation in archaeological research which has functioned to displace Palestinians both materially and theoretically, and the construction of narratives of “ancient Israel” which serve to legitimise contemporary Israeli identity.[25]
“We might expect”, McIntosh and Ranawana write, “to see widespread public statements and action by theologians and theological ethicists across the globe condemning genocide, especially a genocide that claims theological justification and threatens the lives of Christians”.[26] It will not surprise you by now to hear that I do not share this optimism. I am not trying to deny that people have struggled against genocide, violence, and other forms of injustice in the name of theology. I am not — to be very clear — suggesting that those of us who call ourselves theologians cannot or should not justify our struggle against these things in theological terms. But I do think we need to confront the reality that Christianity is not simply one thing; that is is, as it always has been, a religion of both oppressors and oppressed. Both individual theologians and theological institutions have taken sides with both enslavers and enslaved, revolution and repression, lynch mobs and lynched, fascists and anti-fascists, the wealthy and the dispossessed, and with both colonialism and decolonisation.
This is a problem for us to grapple with not merely as individual theologians, but also as members of SST. The SST constitution says that the Society will “support all those engaged in theology, across the full range of approaches and church traditions”.[27] This commitment to representing the diversity of theology underpins SST’s statement on theology and race, which states that SST “is seeking to address, within the scope of its life, the marginalisation in academia of black and minority ethnic people and their perspectives, and the narrowing of scholarship that goes with it around the concerns and interests of those racialised as white’” so that SST can be “a society for all scholars and students of theology”.[28] Here we encounter a problem.
As the SST statement on Gaza says, “Our Society and our Committee include people who have a range of views regarding the purpose and responsibilities of theologians, the work of theology and of the Society”. A series of quite careful statements follows. The society condemns “the use of Christian Zionist thought, which has led to uncritical support for the Israeli state’s assault on the Palestinian people.” SST “support … the view that theologians must consider the implications and outcomes of their theological production, in this case, their complicity in perpetuating new and old forms of violent settler colonialism” [italics mine].[29] I do not find this satisfying as a response to the open letter from Palestinian Christians, which calls on church leaders and theologians to condemn not only Israel’s response to October 7 but also “the ongoing Israeli occupation of Palestine”, and asks us to recognise the fact that October 7 and the events which followed it must be placed within the wider context of ‘Israel’s systematic oppression of the Palestinians over the last 75 years since the Nakba, the ongoing ethnic cleansing of Palestine, and the oppressive and racist military occupation that constitutes the crime of apartheid’.[30]
I find the statement’s careful hedging to be both unethical and strategically unhelpful: in addressing itself to members it offers neither meaningful solidarity to the open letter’s authors, nor any commitment to defend members who do take a more unambiguous public stand. But I also know that to be a member of SST, to be a theologian, to be an academic, is to find myself a member of institutions which are either actively or passively enabling an ongoing genocide. I know that I am thereby implicated, and I know that there are limits to the price I am willing to pay to challenge either this or the other forms of violence which I know myself to be reproducing, however unwillingly, however imperfectly. I know that theological systems and structures which it seems to me we should be working urgently to dismantle are for others of you foundational and indispensable.
There are irreconcilable contradictions here. What would happen if we paid attention to them, instead of trying to paper over the cracks? As I have said elsewhere, “A Christianity which sees itself as one thing into which everyone can and should be brought is a Christianity which cannot reckon with the possibility or the reality of internal disagreement and dissent, and which cannot see the failure to convert as an indication of anything other than in indication of corruption. It is this fantasy of wholeness, of one-ness, which has tended to make Christianity so dangerous to both internal dissenters and external others, and which has rendered it so unable to reckon with the conflicts, disagreements, and inconsistencies that run through its institutions, texts, and practices.”[31]
There is no escape from failure. But there are good theological reasons to understand failure not as a fall away from some primordial success, some original wholeness, but as in fact the constituting condition of our being. To insist that God creates from nothing, from freedom rather than necessity, is to say that at the heart of our being is something which cannot be explained. To speak about God is to founder on the limits of theological language, to try and to fail again to name the unnameable, to limit the illimitable, to know the unknowable. Failure is ontological.
Failure is also the reality of the disciplines and institutions which form us as theologians. The sexual, familial, and reproductive metaphors so central to Christian narratives of both ecclesial identity and the study of theology, however disciplined, cannot but draw our attention to the impossibility of fidelity, to the inevitability of failure. We neither understand nor control the ways that our parents have formed us, any more than parents can grasp or master who and what their children become. On sex, the Bible will tell the truth if we will not — that the order based on men’s possession of women has always been sustained and maintained by violent men, manipulative wives, courageous sex workers, and infidelities great and small.
The question that we should ask then, is not how we might now succeed but, instead, how to relate to this constitutive failure. Theological failure is a problem of being, of knowledge, and of power; and the question of how to relate to this failure is a problem of desire. I want to turn now to the Jacques Lacan, who offers a typology of four discourses, four ways of relating to the incompleteness, the constitutive failure of being, language, and order. As I’ve argued elsewhere, this typology is deeply indebted to Christian theology, and Lacan’s four discourses — the master’s discourse, the university discourse, the hysteric’s discourse and the analyst’s discourse — correspond to the four stages of theological speech as set out in Dionysius’ foundational account of mystical theology: the naming of God according to the logic of doctrinal propriety, the proliferation of divine names, the denial of divine names, and finally the mystical language of contradiction, paradox, and silence.[32] As Thomas Lynch puts it, “Understanding these configurations enables an analysis of four key social phenomena: ‘governing, education, protesting, and revolutionizing’”; all of which, I will argue, can illuminate the discipline of theology as it is exercised in the context of churches, universities and (of course) learned societies.[33]
The first of Lacan’s four discourses is the Master’s discourse. This “is the discourse of unquestionable authority; the discourse of strong leaders and traditional values. It says that the solution to what ails us is a reaffirmation of authority (biblical, encyclical, or political), and a return to hierarchies of race, gender, class, or church governance.”[34] It is the discourse of sovereign power, of groundless decision, of the God who creates by dividing, out of nothing. The Master’s discourse believes that the solution to failure is to re-establish proper order, and is willing to wield violence in order to do so.
But there are two truths that the Master’s discourse cannot confront. First is the reality of incompleteness and division. Christianity is not one. However hard we try to impose authority on the world, it will always escape our grasp. I am sure I am not the only member of the Society who grew up very sure that there was a right way to be a Christian, a right way to read the Bible, and who has found that this belief fell apart the more tightly I clung to it. I suspect that this failure is one reason why so much energy is now being put into various attempts to discipline academic theology along with the rest of higher education.[35] There are cracks in the texts that some of us cannot help but fall through. The other thing concealed by the Master’s discourse is the pleasure of transgression and the ways that enjoyment is intensified by prohibition. The last few years have been a lesson on the ubiquity of those pleasures in the places of power. This pleasure is, for Lacan, crucial to understanding the way that this discourse is sustained: “What keeps people attached to a model so obviously built on repression and hypocrisy are the pleasure of hating those who are excluded by this discourse’s legalistic order and the transgressive pleasures of breaking the law”; though also, I think it is important to add, the pleasures of doing violence to others who transgress it. As Alberto Toscano has argued, “the fascist – as the phantasmatic synthesis of the settler and the soldier (or the cop) – needs to imagine him or herself as an active shareholder in the monopoly of violence”.[36]
When the master’s discourse begins to break apart, one route out of these contradictions is what Lacan refers to as the ‘university discourse’. Here the solution to incompleteness and contradiction is to multiply knowledge: “If we just write another report, create another policy or procedure, conduct more research, run more training sessions, track more data, or add another layer of paperwork, then we will arrive at a resolution. This is the discourse of bureaucracy, of ‘equality and diversity’ committees, and of ‘post-political’ pragmatic government” which claims not to be ideological but to be interested simply in better management, in more efficient systems and processes.[37] I am reminded here of a paper that Gerard Loughlin gave at SST several years ago in which he described the Anglican Living in Love and Faith process as an endless series of reports suggesting that what was needed was “more listening”; whether this was better or worse than the decisions lately arrived at I will leave to you to decide. This is also, of course, the discourse of the REF. One of the last things I did before leaving the UK for Ireland last summer was to draft a REF environment statement. I had to describe what my unit was doing to encourage career progression amongst its members. A laudable goal, except that we had not been able to apply for promotions for four years, due to an ongoing financial crisis; and when the university had paused its promotion process it had also withdrawn its promotion criteria, with the (also laudable!) goal of rewriting them to be both clearer and more equitable. A report, then, on how we were working to help our colleagues work towards unknown criteria for a non-existent end, for a system of assessment which barely anyone believes in, all in the middle of a deepening crisis in which it was (and is) not even clear that my job, my programme, or the institution as a whole would make it as far as the next REF. The university discourse functions, then, “both to evade the real questions and conflicts that characterise institutions and also to disempower and deflate any attempts to confront these real problems by ensuring that people are kept so bored and alienated by endless busy-work that they become cynical and disengaged.”[38] While — as the very persistence of the REF testifies — it is possible to get stuck here, it is also possible that the pointlessness, the absurdity, or the sheer tedium will lead to the discourse breaking down.
If at this point we resist the lure of the Master’s discourse, we may find ourselves instead moving into the discourse of protest, of complaint: the hysteric’s discourse. For Lacan, this is a moment with transformative potential. The hysteric insists on the failure of the system within which she is positioned. The master discourse’s insistence on order is incoherent, and the university discourse’s insistence that incoherence can be resolved by the production of knowledge is doomed. This is the work of critique; but critique can be a trap. In the student revolutions of 1968, Lacan notoriously said to his protesting students, “You are hysterics who demand a new master. You will get one.”[39] The hysteric recognises that there is something wrong with the way that things are, but has not yet given up on the fantasy of wholeness. Sara Ahmed writes eloquently about the ways that complaint and protest can be absorbed by universities into self-serving and self-aggrandising narratives of improvement and transformation.[40] Critique can function to reproduce the very systems and structures at which it is directed, and this reproductive function cannot be laid solely at the feet of institutions. The queer theorist Lauren Berlant talks about “cruel optimism” which exists, they say, “when something you desire is actually an obstacle to your flourishing”; Daniel Colluciello Barber suggests that something like cruel optimism can come to structure the way we critique the institutions we are part of.[41] The very act of critique, he suggests, can itself be a form of investment in that institution. Why waste time understanding what is wrong, trying to convince others to agree with us and so on if not that we hope, on some level, that change is possible, that the institution can become better? Critique can be a way of sustaining our relation to the things we criticise; it can be a way of disavowing our on responsibility for a situation and of failing to reckon with the power that we have ourselves; it can be a way to sustain our own sense of goodness by distancing ourselves from the institutions in which we are implicated. Critique, that is to say, can be a form of care, a kind of reproductive labour.
It is difficult to inhabit institutions in the midst of multiple overlapping catastrophes. I know I am not the only person to find myself returning over and again to Walter Benjamin’s famous description of the angel of history pictures the angel, eyes wide open, mouth open and wings outstretched, his face turned towards the past, blowing him into the future and so ever further from paradise as he watches history unfold as “one single catastrophe, which unceasingly piles rubble on top of rubble and hurls it before his fee”’.[42] As Nadia Abu El-Haj demonstrates, one tendency which emerged out of the horrors of the Holocaust and Hiroshima was the figure of the witness, whose “prophetic quality was inseparable from her trauma”.[43] El Haj connects this figure of the witness to the emergence, over the last few days, of a “new humanitarianism”, a new ethics of care which focuses not on the struggle for a most just world so much as on the attempt to relieve human suffering, which replaces “talk of politics” with “moral obligation”, an “ethical turn … understood as ideologically neutral and thus ‘post’-political”.[44]
Of course, before there were hysterics there were medieval women mystics. I want to close this discussion of the hysteric’s discourse by turning to Catherine of Siena, in whose life and work protest, care, and the witness of suffering are closely entangled; in whose self-aggrandising self-abnegation, martyr complex, violence, frustrated power and compassion I recognise not only myself but also — please forgive me — many of you. According to Catherine’s biographer Raymond of Capua, when a local sister called Andrea became sick with breast cancer, her wounds so putrid that people could only stand to be near her if they stuffed their noses so as not to be able to smell, Catherine tended to her faithfully, washing Andreas’ oozing breast. Catherine was not immune to the stench of Andrea’s wound, but demonstrated her perfect self-mastery when, experiencing nausea whilst tending to the wound, she bent her face to it until she almost passed out (I, too, have attended meetings about my institution’s financial crisis).[45]
You might think that such commitment to care and self-sacrifice would be met with gratitude but, like so many people around the saint, it seems that Andrea could not stand the holy Catherine, spreading nasty rumours about her, and accusing her of sexual immorality. Catherine, however, remained undeterred, continuing to attend to Andrea’s bedside until one day the bitter and resentful old sister saw Catherine’s face transformed into that of an angel, on which she repented, called together all those to whom she had slandered Catherine’s reputation, and admitted that Catherine was not only pure but, indeed, a saint.
Catherine’s greatest joys, it seems, were always prompted by great suffering; in her letters she writes to her confessor, Raymond of Capua of the unspeakable joys she experienced when attending the execution of a young nobleman, with whom she had stayed up praying throughout the night. As she waited for him to be brought out to the executioner’s block, eager for spiritual encounter, she laid her neck upon the block. But, she says, “my desire did not come there, for I had too full consciousness of myself.”[46] Instead she resumed her prayers for the young man, as he in turn laid his head upon the block, speaking the names of both Jesus and of Catherine herself just before the axe fell and his head in turn fell into Catherine’s lap, whereupon she experienced the ecstasy for which she had been longing.
With all this holiness, Raymond marvels, it is difficult to understand the many insults Catherine received throughout her life from those around her. Those around her seem to have been persistently incensed by her spiritual patience and self-discipline. So greatly did the Sisters of Penance of St Dominic envy Catherine’s superior wisdom and devotion that they began to complain about her, deciding that her miracles were not from God but the devil, working to keep her out of their meetings, keeping her away from holy communion, denying her access to a confessor; so incensed by her that, when she did manage to partake in communion, falling immediately after into a deep trance, they would pick her up and throw her bodily out of the church, some of them even kicking her as she lay insensible on the ground.[47]
What does it mean to insist on tending to the wounds of someone who finds your presence extremely irritating? What does it mean to ecstatically receive the host in a community which finds that ecstasy so unacceptable that your fellow congregants literally pick up your body to remove you from church? What complex ties of power, pleasure, suffering and self-aggrandisement are at work in Catherine’s relationships with the pious nuns who cannot bear her and her confessor Raymond for whom the obvious irritation which Catherine provokes in others becomes itself a sign of her sainthood?
Writing about the psychic burn-out often experienced by migrant care workers, Jared Sexton suggests that burnout and breakdown are endemic to the profession of caring, because of the inherent paradoxes at the heart of care work itself. Psychoanalysis tells us, he suggests, that our best intentions are laced with unbidden aggression and sexuality, that dangerous and sometimes violent desires emerge when those cared for do not go along with the caregiver’s best intentions, resulting in harms both to the carer and to those cared for.[48] Catherine’s life and work speaks to this complex intertwining of self-sacrifice and pleasure, to the ways that self-denial can be a way to seek out power; the violence that so often takes root in the midst of care, directed both at carers and at those cared for. Liberation theology has often talked about God’s preferential option for the poor, but there is a risk here – as liberation theologians well knew – that this sense of God’s solidarity with the oppressed can turn into a kind of fetishisation of suffering and poverty.[49]
Why do so many of us stay in jobs, churches and institutions which are draining the life out of us? Why is it that so many of us find ourselves frozen, being blown ever further from Paradise, as catastrophe piles upon catastrophe before our open eyes? Why are we so much more easily moved by pity than by anger; what does it mean that it was not Palestinian resistance and struggle against occupation and genocide which brought about mass support within the West for the Palestinian cause, but the endless, unbearable images of Palestinian suffering?
The route out of this bind, Lacan suggests, is the final of the four discourses: the analyst’s discourse. It is only here, for Lacan, that we truly confront the reality of failure: the impossibility of mastering ourselves or those around us. The task of the analyst is not to control, not to produce endless knowledge, not to protest, but to open a space in which the other may come face to face with failure. We might think of this in terms of Slavoj Žižek’s suggestion that the role of philosophy is not to provide answers but to ask the “right questions”.[50] We might think of it in terms of Marcella Althaus-Reid’s argument for “a theology which aims (as only Queer Theology can) to scandalise, that is, to be a stone on the road to force theologians to stop, fall down, while pausing in their pain and thinking during the pause”.[51]
This work of interruption, of scandal, of asking questions, is no simple matter of brute force. It may take only a single blow of the hammer to stop the wheels from turning; the art is in knowing where to hit it. Things are trickier still when we begin to work at scale: how to trip the feet of a discipline, a sub-field, a scholarly guild, an institution, a congregation, or a classroom? Here too is failure; here too we must seek to know not only ourselves, not only the institutions and structures we inhabit, but also the relationship between those things. This is work — for Žižek, the work of love, of agape — and it requires careful attention, along with a sustained attempt to let go of the fantasies of wholeness or redemption which so often structure our relationship to research, teaching, preaching, our ministry, pastoral and administrative work.[52]
Perhaps this has always been the case, but it seems to me that one of most significant difficulties with which this task presents us is that to truly pay attention, to face up to the task of theology — be that intellectual, institutional, or pedagogical — is to find ourselves, like Catherine, face to face with horror and obscenity. Academic theology has always been a site of struggle, has always been an engine of violence, and of the reproduction of the violent distinctions of race, class, and gender; but just as Christians come together in agreement that theology has failed if not on anything else, so too I would suggest to you, my readers, that if we can agree on anything it is that university life is not, on the whole, improving. Back in 2013, Fred Moten and Stefano Harney wrote that, “it cannot be denied that the university is a place of refuge, and it cannot be accepted that the university is a place of enlightenment.”[53] There is still truth in this, but places of refuge are shrinking everywhere, albeit still in ways stratified by geography and also by class.
It has become commonplace to speak about “the Palestine exception” — the tendency for both speech and action by and about Palestine to be suppressed, particularly within universities. Yet as Steven Salaita points out, “this Palestine exception informs and is constituted by broader, and older, forms of suppression”, the return of repressed truths of colonial violence past on which our world is built.[54] What is happening — what continues to happen — in Palestine is a horror beyond grasping. It is also a vision of the future which looks to be coming for us all: the razing to the ground of universities and libraries, the killing, torture and incarceration of both students and teachers in Palestine the corollary of the central role Israeli universities play in producing not only the historical and theoretical justification for apartheid, in making and testing technologies of surveillance and slaughter, and in suppressing both staff and student speech and activism.[55]
Christian narratives of salvation and redemption can render us, as Amaryah Armstrong argues, unable to confront the reality of loss.[56] It is difficult not to fall into the logic of theodicy, which says that any kind of suffering, loss, or failure can be justified if – and only if – we believe that ultimately all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Modern secular narratives of historical progress have deep roots in Christian tradition. One thing that these narratives imply is that failure can only ever be a staging post on the way towards victory; that hope is only possible if we believe that God hides behind the curtain of history, ensuring that, whatever happens to other people over there, we are going to be fine, that the suffering and defeat of others exists in the end as a backdrop to our own final triumph over history. Christ’s crucifixion has come to mean, for many of us, not the necessity of the destruction of a world which is willing to put Christ to death, but that redemption will emerge out of suffering, through suffering. There is a kind of obscenity in this. What kind of glorious victory would suffice to cancel out the suffering of all of those who been killed in Gaza, in California fires, in small boats in the British channel, in countless other singular apocalypses?
Perhaps instead we might come, as Amaryah Armstrong suggests, to “understand black riots as an instance of black revelation”; to see “looting, property destruction, and physical resistance to the state’s and citizenry’s enforcement of white nationalism” as “a means of contesting the law, order, and economy of an anti-black world and the reality it legitimates”.[57] Perhaps we might welcome, with whatever trepidation, the abolition of “what exists now” which is, as Anthony Paul Smith argues, “indefensible”, such that “its destruction is a kind of grace, a liberation from the deathly self”.[58] Perhaps we might hear the words of Edward Said, in the poem by Mahmūd Darwīsh from which this paper takes its title: “If I die before you, I urge you to cling to the impossible!”[59] Perhaps we might ask one another how we can relate to our failure to love our enemies, who are also ourselves.
[2] I am grateful to Christians for Palestine UK (and especially to Grey Collier) and to Modern Church (especially Alison Webster) for giving me the opportunity to develop these thoughts on Palestine, some of which have been previously published as blog posts: ‘Remember Amalek’, Modern Church blog, 12 April 2024, https://modernchurch.org.uk/marika-rose-remember-amalek; and ‘Hope and Heartsickness’, Modern Church blog, 8 August 2025, https://modernchurch.org.uk/hope-and-heartsickness. Fellow members of the International Network for Experimental Theology and Philosophy (INEPT) provided invaluable input on a very sketchy draft of the paper – thank you to Tommy Lynch, Hannah Strømmen, Ulrich Schmiedel. Aaron Goldman, Annette Langer-Pitschmann, Gorazd Andrejč, Zoran Grozdanov, Mattias Martinson, Ida Simonsson, Susanne Wigorts Yngvesson, and Mark Godin . I’m also very grateful to my Dublin colleagues, Brad Anderson, Miriam DeCock, Alyson Staunton, and Daniele Pevarello who read and commented on an early draft, and especially to Anthony Paul Smith who was an invaluable sounding board and insightful editor throughout the writing process. I should note that the generosity of the interlocutors I have listed above should not be taken either as implicating them in any errors which remain or as signalling their agreement with the arguments I make in what follows.
[9] Esther McIntosh and Anupama M. Ranawana, ‘Silence Is Complicity: Theological Failure in the Face of Genocide’, International Journal of Public Theology (Leiden, The Netherlands) 18, no. 4 (2024): 463–87, https://doi.org/10.1163/15697320-20241605. 464
[10] ‘Report of the SST Executive Committee Subgroup on Theology and Race’, 2018, 7.
[11] Warwick Staff and Student Solidarity Network, An Investment in Injustice (2024).
[12] Humbert of Romans, ‘Opus Tripartitum’, in The Crusades: Idea and Reality, 1095-1274, ed. Louise Riley-Smith and Jonathan Riley-Smith (Edward Arnold, n.d.).
[14] See, for example, the section on ‘Expressions of Genocidal Intent Against the Palestinian People by Israeli State Officials and Others’ in South Africa, ‘Application Instituting Proceedings and Request for the Indication of Provisional Measures’, International Court of Justice, 29 December 2023, 140–64, https://www.icj-cij.org/sites/default/files/case-related/192/192-20231228-app-01-00-en.pdf.
[15] See, for example, John Edwards, ‘Reconquista and Crusade in the Fifteenth Century’, in Crusading in the Fifteenth Century: Message and Impact, ed. Norman Housley (Springer, 2004), 166; Sarah Covington, The Devil from over the Sea: Remembering and Forgetting Oliver Cromwell in Ireland (Oxford University Press, 2022), 2; Jace Weaver, ‘Unsettling the Settled: A Response’, Political Theology 24, no. 7 (2023): 788.
[16] Robert Allen Warrior, ‘Canaanites, Cowboys, and Indians’, Christianity and Crisis (New York) 49, no. 12 (1989): 261; Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, An Indigenous Peoples’ History of the United States (Beacon Press, 2023); see also Steven Salaita, Inter/Nationalism: Decolonizing Native America and Palestine (U of Minnesota Press, 2016).
[18] Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judeo-Christianity (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 1–33.
[19] Denise Kimber Buell, Why This New Race: Ethnic Reasoning in Early Christianity / Denise Kimber Buell., Gender, Theory, and Religion (Columbia University Press, 2005), https://doi.org/10.7312/buel13334., 140.
[20] Gil Anidjar, Blood: A Critique of Christianity (Columbia University Press, 2014). 254.
[21] See for example, Warrior, ‘Canaanites’; Marcella Althaus-Reid, Indecent Theology (Routledge, 2002), 4–6; Amy-Jill Levine and Ted A. Smith, ‘Habits of Anti-Judaism: Critiquing a PCUSA Report on Israel/Palestine’, The Christian Century, accessed 22 March 2026, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2010-06/habits-anti-judaism; James H. Cone, A Black Theology of Liberation (Orbis Books, 2010), xx.
[22] See, for example, Delores Williams, ‘Hagar in African American Appropriation’, in Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, ed. Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell (n.d.), 172; Amaryah Armstrong, ‘Christian Order and Racial Order: What Cedric Robinson Can Teach Us’, The Bias, 3 June 2020, https://christiansocialism.com/2020/06/03/cedric-robinson-racial-order-christianity-socialism/.
[23] Marika Rose, A Theology of Failure: Žižek against Christian Innocence / Marika Rose., First edition., Perspectives in Continental Philosophy (Fordham University Press, 2019), 11–13, https://doi.org/10.1515/9780823284092; Marika Rose, ‘Holy Mothers of God: Sex Work, Inheritance, and the Women of Jesus’ Genealogy’, Theology & Sexuality (Abingdon) 25, nos 1–2 (2019): 1–20, https://doi.org/10.1080/13558358.2019.1652031; Marika Rose and Anthony Paul Smith, ‘Hexing the Discipline: Against the Reproduction of Continental Philosophy of Religion’, Humanities & Social Sciences Communications (London) 5, no. 1 (2019): 2, https://doi.org/10.1057/s41599-018-0207-4; Anthony Paul Smith and Daniel Whistler, ‘Editor’s Introduction: What Is Continental Philosophy of Religion Now?’, After the Postsecular and the Postmodern: New Essays in Continental Philosophy of Religion, 2010, 1–25.
[24] See, for example, Mahmood Mamdani: ‘the history of the prevailing state system begins in 1492, with the Reconquista’ (Neither Settler Nor Native: The Making and Unmaking of Permanent Minorities (The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2020), 5.
[25] See, for example, Nadia Abu El-Haj, Facts on the Ground: Archaeological Practice and Territorial Self-Fashioning in Israeli Society (University of Chicago Press, 2008); Keith W. Whitelam, The Invention of Ancient Israel: The Silencing of Palestinian History (Routledge, 1996); Nur Masalha, The Bible and Zionism: Invented Traditions, Archaeology and Post-Colonialism in Palestine-Israel / Nur Masalha. (Zed Books, 2007); Michael J. Sandford, ed., The Bible, Zionism, and Palestine: The Bible’s Role in Conflict and Liberation in Israel-Palestine (Relegere, 2016), https://www.academia.edu/29776721/The_Bible_Zionism_and_Palestine_The_Bibles_Role_in_Conflict_and_Liberation_in_Israel_Palestine; Maya Wind, Towers of Ivory and Steel: How Israeli Universities Deny Palestinian Freedom (Verso, 2024).
[31] Marika Rose, ‘Love Your Enemy: Theology, Identity and Antagonism’, in Dissenting Church: Exploring the Theological Power of Conflict and Disagreement (Springer, 2024), 205.
[33] Thomas Lynch, ‘Making the Quarter Turn: Liberation Theology after Lacan’, in Theology after Lacan: The Passion for the Real, ed. Creston Davis et al. (2015), 217, citing Jacques Lacan, The Seminar of Jacques Lacan Book XVII: The Other Side of Psychoanalysis, ed. Jacques-Alain Miller, trans. Russell Grigg (Norton, 2007), 166.
[40] Sara Ahmed, On Being Included: Racism and Diversity in Institutional Life (Duke University Press, 2020).
[41] Lauren Berlant, Cruel Optimism (Duke university press, 2020), 1; Daniel Colucciello Barber, ‘World-Making and Grammatical Impasse’, Qui Parle: Critical Humanities and Social Sciences 25, nos 1–2 (2016): 179–206.
[45] Raymond of Capua, The Life of Catherine of Siena, trans. George Lamb (P.J. Kennedy & Sons, n.d.), 369–71.
[46] Catherine of Siena, ‘To Brother Raimondo of Capua of the Order of the Preachers’, in Saint Catherine of Siena as Seen in Her Letters, trans. Vita Dutton Scudder (J.M. Dent and E.P. Dutton, 1905), http://www.domcentral.org/trad/cathletters.htm.
[48] Jared Sexton, ‘Antidoting’, The Black Scholar 51, no. 3 (2021): 12–13.
[49] See, for example, Gustavo Gutiérrez et al., A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics and Salvation / Gustavo Gutiérrez; Translated and Edited by Caridad Inda and John Eagleson. (SCM, 1985), 287–91.
[51] Marcella Althaus-Reid, The Queer God (Routledge, 2004), 35.
[52] Slavoj Žižek, The Fragile Absolute or, Why Is the Christian Legacy Worth Fighting For? (Verso, 2000), 117–18.
[53] Stefano Harney and Fred Moten, The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning and Black Study (Minor Compositions, 2013.), 26.
[54] Salaita, ‘The Free Speech Exception to Palestine’, 3.
[55] On scholasticide in Palestine, see e.g. 00/00/0000 00:00:00 On Israeli universities, see e.g. Wind, Towers of Ivory and Steel; Anthony Loewenstein, The Palestine Laboratory: How Israel Exports the Technology of Occupation Around the World (Verso Books, 2024).
[57] Armstrong, ‘Christian Order and Racial Order’.
[58] Anthony Paul Smith, ‘On White Christian Violence’, in In Sheep’s Clothing: The Idolatry of White Christian Nationalism, ed. George Yancy and Bill Bywater (Rowman and Littlefield, 2023), 340.
Thomas Hobbes’ biographer Arnold Rogow writes that, “Hobbes … may never have loved a woman, but no one has ever hinted that he was homosexual” (Radical in the Service of Reaction, 66). Even if that was true at the time Rogow was writing (1986), I’m sure it can’t possibly be true any more; but I spent some time digging around Hobbes scholarship over the summer (with the generous support of Edinburgh’s Institute for Advanced Studies) and came up empty-handed. Let me then be, perhaps, the first person to suggest it: I think it’s possible that Hobbes was gay. Here are some of my reasons:
As Rogow notes, Hobbes never married and was described by his biographer John Aubrey as not ‘a woman-hater … but … even in his youth, (generally) temperate, both as to wine and women’ (66).
One of Hobbes’ early pieces of writing was a Latin poem about a cavern in Derbyshire called the Devil’s Arse (‘partially so-called because the rocks supposedly look like the buttocks of a person bending over. The rocks are enormous and between them is a very deep cavern, in which the sun never shines’), in which he also discussed another local cave called “Poole’s Hole”. (A P Martinich, Thomas Hobbes, 73)
Rogow writes, ‘References to human anatomy in the Peak do not establish that Hobbes and the second earl shared an interest in the more intimate physical aspects of life, but we may doubt that Hobbes would have included these references had the earl, for whom the poem was written, be displeased by them’ (71) — the earl here is Hobbes’ student as well as his employer, and also a close companion. Of the earl, Hobbes writes in a. poem full of bawdy innuendos the following lines: “Magnificent, not lavish, still he spends/His riches freely, and amongst his Friends’ (73).
Rogow suggests that these images of holes and caves haunted Hobbes for the rest of his life and that the Devil’s Arse may have inspired Hobbes’ last reported words before his death: ‘I shall be glad to find a Hole to creep out of the world at’ (71).
Hobbes was convinced that the secret to a long life was ridding the body of excess moisture, and so as an old man he would play vigorous games of tennis or go for long walks to work up a sweat and then, according to Aubrey, “give the servant some money to rub him” (Brief Lives, 165).
Also, apparently in quest of a less moist life, Hobbes would lie in bed at night singing ‘prick songs’ (Rogow, 226). Here ‘prick’ refers to a particular form of musical notation, but also, I mean, come on
Aubrey also recounts a story told to him by Hobbes about a time that Hobbes was hired as a tutor to the young Duke of Buckingham, according to Hobbes a man of ‘great naturall parts’ and a quick wit, who was however slow to comprehend Hobbes’ instruction; this, it transpired, was because he was “at mastrupation (his hand in his Cod-piece)” (Rogow, 153).
At the heart of Hobbes’ political theory is an (unusual!) insistence that authority has no gender, that the distinctions between men and women are overwhelmingly artificial rather than natural, and that the same therefore goes for any societal norms around sexual behaviour
Obviously none of this is conclusive. But I do think that it’s at least worth both asking the question, and also wondering why it is that the question has not been more seriously considered (in the process of writing this post I began to wonder whether Rogow — a psychoanalyst and close friend of Gertrude Stein — was, in fact, hinting at the possibility of Hobbes’ homosexuality). I do think it’s symptomatic of a general gap between political theological readings of Hobbes which tend to be better at thinking about the symbols, metaphors and underlying metaphysics of Hobbes’ thinking but tend to ignore questions of gender and sexuality, and the feminist scholarship of Hobbes which tends to a somewhat literalist reading of Hobbes which tends to assume that his ideas about gender can primarily be inferred from the times when he explicitly discusses gender and not say, his ideas about snakes and frogs and rivers of blood. Rogow says, when discussing Hobbes in relation to Bacon, that both expressed ‘more than a hint of misogyny’. I’ve not finished the Rogow book so it’s possible I am missing something, but what I’ve read so far suggests that it is not so much that Hobbes — who worked for women, left money to women, and could imagine a world in which women ruled over men — hated women as that he was just more personally interested in men.
It’s been a long time since you heard from me. A quick station identification: This newsletter is Dracula Daily, which sends out the entire book Dracula in bite-sized pieces.
This list has been quiet for a while because Dracula Season doesn’t start until May. But I’m interrupting here to let you know some quick news about a new thing to read.
(In the meantime, sit tight for Dracula. If you’re getting this newsletter, then you’re already signed up for Dracula Daily, and you’ll start getting the story in your email in May)
The quick news
We’re kicking off a new newsletter - another underrated and overlooked book, delivered in ‘real time’ to your inbox. It’s called The Honeywood File, and the newsletter is Honeywood Daily. You can sign up for it here.
Honeywood Daily
The short version is: here’s another great book, told through letters and telegrams, that we can read together like Dracula. It’s got much shorter sections, and it’s spread out over a longer time period. The book is about people trying to design and build a house - an architect, his client, and the people they work with along the way. I think it’s very, very funny. Honeywood is one of my favorite books I’ve discovered over the last few years.
Hello! Editor Matt here; this is Dracula Weekly, Week 27.
That was it! The events of Dracula wrapped up this week. I cannot overstate how meaningful your support is: for all the other hundreds of thousands of people reading Dracula together. But really I’m so grateful for YOUR support, dear Weekly subscriber.