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I struggle with this a great deal.

One thing I keep noticing—whether in scholarship or in public commentary—is how often interpretation tracks the interpreter’s domain: the specialist’s lens quietly selects what feels “structural,” what feels “primary,” what gets treated as motive rather than noise. To a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

It reminds me of Hamlet: a text that has been staged as political tragedy, psychological study, moral drama, or existential paralysis depending on what a given moment finds most plausible. The words don’t change; the emphasis does.

And the lesson applied history has taught me most is humility—especially when the material can sustain multiple readings, and the stakes attached to our emphases are real.

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