Talking the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer Blues (conclusion)

Talking the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer Blues

(AKA Women and Indians at the Limits of Induction)

Part Three (Conclusion)

(Parts one and two can be found at the blog posts on June 3 and June 7)


It might seem therefore that the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer blues all adds up to one lesson: letting cultural stereotypes stand in the way of careful inductive reasoning is a mistake, sometimes a fatal one.

It turns out that the lesson isn’t that simple.

In fact Custer’s thinking about Indians was in many ways not one-dimensional. Politically, Custer opposed Grant’s policies of 1876 requiring the Lakotas and Cheyennes to report to reservations or be attacked. Custer testified on behalf of the idea that Indians were being abused on the reservations and that the policy was unfair, a political stand that further earned Grant’s enmity and nearly cost Custer the chance to die at the Little Big Horn. He was, that is, a fairly thoughtful observer of Indian life on reservations. He could see that reservation life was exploitative and awful, and he was willing to say so publicly in a way that risked his military career.

It was just that as a man finally most devoted to making a name for himself through the military, one used to acting under orders even if he didn’t agree with them, Custer was willing to fight the Indians if that’s what the military required. In fact he was eager to do so because he believed it would improve his public image, the thing which to him mattered most.

It’s possible to be a careful inductive reasoner who sees through the ideologies and stereotypes of others and still be full of your own unexamined stereotypes.

The case of Holmes, and Doyle who created him, is maybe even more complex, yet it too reveals a similar problem.

In “A Scandal in Bohemia,” it’s important to note that Holmes, referring to Irene Adler as “the woman,” defines her as unique. Her existence disproves Holmes’ theories about women and even shows her to be a superior inductive thinker. Yet there is no indication that Holmes believes she is one of many such women. As the exception that disproves the rule, she is also the exception that proves that the rule remains true in most cases. It’s crucial to remember that in the story, even she behaves as Holmes expects women to do. What Holmes misses is that she herself realizes that she has been caught acting as women do, and can respond by not acting that way. This realization and response leads to her success. She still behaves like a woman but is capable of rising above it when the situation demands.

Holmes, of course, is a fictional character who may not may not reflect the attitudes of the author. Given the lesson Holmes learns in “A Scandal In Bohemia,” it’s fair to say that Doyle’s attitude was not that of Holmes. And in fact the Holmes stories are full of brave, tough, intelligent, steadfast women of firm moral convictions, women who under the laws of England often find themselves at the mercy of corrupt, mercenary men but who are willing to fight back for their own liberty and lives as well as for those they love.

Of course the stories also feature women who are dangerous villains, or who are weak, cowardly, stupid or vacillating. Women are hardly idolized in the Holmes stories.

Still, by all accounts Doyle seems to have greatly admired and respected women.

Doyle was also, later in life, firmly opposed to the idea that the women he so admired should have the right to vote. In an interview of his daughter Dame Jean Conan Doyle, she suggests about her father’s often discussed attitudes towards women that Doyle believed that the division of men and women into public and domestic spheres was proper, that women should have political power but only by exercising good influences upon their husbands.

Like many Victorian men, that is, Doyle believed both in admiring women and that their proper place was the home. Dame Doyle also suggests that her father was appalled by what he considered the lengths to which the woman’s suffrage movement had gone, and particularly deplored any incidents of violence with which it was associated. In fact in some Holmes stories the women’s suffrage movement appears as another of the many dangerous political conspiracies that he personally abhorred and that made for exciting fiction: the Mormons, the Italian Mafia, and Russian Communists primarily.

And while Doyle’s portrayal of women is complex, his portrayal of cultural others is full of the standard stereotypes common in British culture of the era. Members of other cultures are frequently portrayed as passionate, vengeful, duplicitous and scheming, although some are portrayed as passionate, loving, and honest in their scheming.

It turns out, that is, that it’s possible to believe in the value of inductive reasoning and the authority of data, to reject stereotypes and write a story showing the problems of the limits of stereotypes, and even to understand how induction is often limited by ideology, and still be deeply committed to common ideological limitations and stereotypes from a given era. It’s possible to criticize stereotypes and simultaneously believe in or at least frequently portray stereotypes as the truth about people’s behavior.

It’s possible, that is, to write a literature and live a life in the belief that inductive thinking can critique ideology, and is a way of getting beyond ideology, and even to know how often inductive thinking is mired in ideology, while still revealing that ideology—that complicated nexus of beliefs, some articulated, some not, some individual, some group-oriented and historical—remains far more powerful than we know in shaping how we see the world.

One conclusion here could be that inductive reasoning needs to be even more cautious and thorough, that it needs to be more relentless than ever in its dismantling of pre-determined beliefs and ideologies and theories. In so doing, it could enable us to live a life free of ideological bias, a claim, it seems, that a number of our own contemporary poets and critics are making.

But the other conclusion is that this previous conclusion is a fantasy, an ideological limitation masquerading as its opposite. In this view, a rational induction-based pragmatism can never free itself entirely of other kinds of ideological baggage. There’s no value free, neutral objectivity to be had even when one is a careful inductionist. Further, pragmatic inductionism cannot get beyond ideology because it is itself an ideology, one full of its own beliefs and methodologies based on those beliefs.

The problem with Holmes’ statement that one should never theorize without facts and therefore avoid all bias in theorizing is that the idea of being able to do so is not only already a theory, but probably also a fantasy. Inductive reading of the facts suggests that the likelihood of maintaining such a point of view in a person’s actual behavior is microscopically slim at best.

A good inductive reasoner should never believe in something that can be shown inductively to be a fantasy.

Still, the notion of a radically pure pragmatic inductionism is a theory which despite its limitations has worthwhile applications. As “A Scandal In Bohemia” shows, insisting on a pragmatic examination of our beliefs is profoundly necessary. But denying that we have values because we believe only in practicality is a conclusion that induction itself cannot support.

That said, what this story of Holmes and Doyle and Custer and induction finally shows is not simply the old point (though still necessary, it seems, given many recent discussions of poetry) that it’s impossible to escape ideology. It’s not simply that pragmatic method and an understanding of how ideology functions are useful counterbalances, in that pragmatic method can sometimes successfully critique ideology and that understanding the power of ideology can provide a useful critique of pragmatism. In fact, it shows that we can know all this and still not understand the ways in which ideology is shaping our thinking. An understanding of how ideology functions is not the same as understanding our own ideological investments.

As it turns out, what Holmes and Doyle and Custer also show us is that the ideology whose limits we may be least likely to recognize is our own.

Women and Indians at the Limits of Induction (Part Two)

Talking the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer Blues

(AKA Women and Indians at the Limits of Induction)

Part Two (Part One can be found on the blog post for Wednesday, June 3)


In “A Scandal in Bohemia,” the story opens with Watson discussing the admiration Holmes has for one particular woman, Irene Adler, in contrast to Holmes’ often generally dismissive view of women.

Holmes, in this story, is going to be defeated by Irene Adler, precisely because his view of women clouds his inductive capacity when he encounters a woman whose inductive and other skills are at least as great as his own.

At a key moment in the story, Holmes bases his attempts to retrieve a photograph from Adler on his stereotyped conception of women’s behavior. As he explains to Watson, “ When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out.”

It’s important to understand that Holmes’ generalization about women in this instance does lead to temporary success. Adler acts as Holmes suggests women do by definition. Holmes manages to witness all this because he has disguised himself as a clergyman who came to Adler’s aid and was wounded when her carriage was surrounded by street toughs (themselves actually also acting on Holmes’ orders). She brings him into her house to help him.

Holmes’ mistake is that, while watching her behavior, he is unaware that she is watching his just as capably. After the incident, Adler realizes that Holmes has figured out her secret, and she succeeds in escaping him.

Not only is Adler as capable an inductionist as Holmes, she is also equally adept at another of Holmes’ key methods for solving crimes: acting ability. Adler disguises herself as a man, a “slim youth” as Watson describes her, in order to follow Holmes and find out what he’s doing. In a letter to Holmes that he receives after her escape she notes: “But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives.”

Holmes is defeated by a woman with the capability of disguising herself as a man. A woman who has all the talents he has, with one great advantage over him. She does not underestimate her opponent, as he has, based on stereotypes of gender. As she implies in her letter, gender is less a condition of biological fact and limitation than one of costume and performance. She defeats Holmes because she understands gender better than he does.

Holmes’ astonishment at her ability and her defeat of him genuinely leads him to rethink his attitude towards women. Watson concludes the story by noting, “And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable title of the woman.”

Custer encountered a similar problem to Holmes, a moment when his inductive abilities were undone at least partly by stereotyping an opponent. His mistake took place in the real world and the consequences were much worse, leading to his own death and that of more than 200 of his men.

Up to the day of his death at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, Custer’s role in the Indian Wars had been complicated and troubled by some of his behavior and by political difficulties. He was suspended from command for a year after being accused of going AWOL to visit his wife. After the end of the Civil War, Custer had supported the policies of President Andrew Johnson, earning him the longtime enmity of the General who soon became President, Ulysses Grant. In Washington DC, Custer was at a one point accused of perjury. It was only by begging Brigadier General Alfred Terry for reinstatement that Custer was allowed to lead the 7th Cavalry to the Battle of the Little Big Horn. In fact some people have suggested that Custer’s desire to regain his command, his image, and freedom from Terry’s patronage contributed to his reckless approach on that particular day.

There was however at least one other key difference that contributed to his fate. Custer did not think of the Lakota Sioux and Cheyenne warriors he was facing in the same way he thought of the Confederate Troops he had faced during the Civil War. Perhaps because of bravado, but more so probably because he really did believe it, Custer claimed that he could "could whip any Indian village on the Plains" with the 7th Cavalry. He even turned down an offer from General Terry for an additional four companies from the 2nd Calvary. Custer believed he didn’t need those troops because he was only fighting Indians.

Custer was less thoughtful about his inductions in this particular war context. He allowed his ideological convictions about Indians to overcome his usual reasoning. If he had been facing an army of white men, he likely would have behaved differently.

It might seem therefore that the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer blues all adds up to one lesson: letting cultural stereotypes stand in the way of careful inductive reasoning is a mistake, sometimes a fatal one.

It turns out that the lesson isn’t that simple.

(End of Part Two)

Talking the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer Blues (Part One)

Talking the Sherlock Holmes-General George A. Custer Blues

(AKA Women and Indians at the Limits of Induction)

Part One

In the story “A Scandal In Bohemia,” Sherlock Holmes tells his friend Watson, “You have not observed. And yet you have seen.” According to Holmes, while Watson is surrounded by the same sense data as Holmes, he does not register and process the details. Watson, unlike Holmes, is insufficiently attuned to his own senses and the data obtainable from it.

Holmes’ great attention to sense data is one of his key detecting skills and is displayed at the beginning of most Holmes stories. In a common opening to the stories, he notices people’s physical features, expressions, clothing and possessions and draws many inferences about those people based on what he notices. He is similarly observant about all aspects of material reality and uses his observations of them throughout the stories to determine how crimes have been committed and who committed them.

Although the Holmes stories speak of this process as deduction, in fact it’s an act of induction: Holmes reaches likely conclusions based on his prior observations.

As he also tells Watson in that same story, "I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.” Holmes only theorizes when the data is sufficient to support his ideas. Although he acknowledges that error is possible in drawing conclusions, the conclusions he draws are nonetheless based only on facts, never on pre-defined suppositions or ideologies. Given a small margin for error, his conclusions are therefore themselves almost always facts as well. One might say that—in theory—Holmes never theorizes. Instead he moves from one clue to another until he can draw a correct conclusion.

After graduating last in his class of 34 cadets from the U.S. military academy in 1861, George Armstrong Custer would almost certainly have played no major role in U.S. history had the Civil War not just broken out, leading to a need for officers, even those who had performed in school as pathetically as class clown Custer had.

Once in active service, however, Custer distinguished himself quickly. He first made a name for himself in the Peninsula Campaign of 1862 after overhearing General Barnard say, in considering how to cross the Chickhamony River, “I wish I knew how deep it is.” Custer astonished everyone by riding his horse right into the river. “That’s how deep it is, General,” he is reported to have said from atop his horse mid-river. He was soon thereafter allowed to lead an attack across the river.

It was this moment of reckless induction that first gained attention for Custer and defined the key characteristic of his military career. As Evan Connell pointed out in his account Son of the Morning Star, Custer made his military fame through one battle tactic only. In battle, Custer charged. Yet as others have pointed out, the charges he led were always meticulously and inductively planned. Custer always studied details of the battlefield and enemy closely before deciding whether a charge was possible, and if so, where would be best to charge.

But make no mistake: Custer was committed to charging. Despite the fact that his flamboyant, foppish dress (he preferred cinnamon-scented hair oil that made his long blond hair sparkle as it hung down in ringlets below his hat) often alienated soldiers under his command, he won them over by his willingness to stand at the front of the charges he led, instead of lurking behind the troops as other military leaders often did. Custer managed to succeed repeatedly with his capable battlefield inductions and thoughtfully reckless charges. Careful inductionist that he was, however, he acknowledged that his success and survival were in some ways a matter of luck.

Both Holmes and Custer, in their entirely different and obsessive ways, are pragmatic inductionists.

One key difference, among many, between these men is that Holmes, as a fictional character, never had to put his methods to the test in the real world. Not so for Custer, unfortunately.

It’s incorrect, however, to think of Holmes as a superhero detective who solves every case and makes no mistakes and has no weaknesses. Along with the emotional torment he goes through when lacking an engaging case, Holmes turns out despite his belief in facts to have his biases and ideological pre-suppositions.

Perhaps his key bias is against women. In fact, the story “A Scandal In Bohemia” is designed for Arthur Conan Doyle to teach both Holmes and his readers a key lesson: generalized biases against others, stereotyping and dismissing their abilities based on considering them part of a general category of human beings, is an error. And it’s an error that careful attention to the principles of induction can correct.

In “Scandal,” the story opens with Watson discussing the admiration Holmes has for one particular woman, Irene Adler, in contrast to Holmes’ often generally dismissive view of women.

Holmes, in this story, is going to be defeated by Irene Adler, precisely because his view of women clouds his inductive capacity when he encounters a woman whose inductive and other skills are at least as great as his own.

(End of Part One)