The Battle of the Books

[Note: I’m going through my enormous “drafts” folder and seeing if I can salvage any of the posts without changing their titles or opening lines. This is my first try]

Every generation has its battle between, on one hand, those who pine for the “old days” and, on the other, proponents of progress who inevitably think better things are preordained. I once probably found the former camp more irritating, due to their hollow affection for activities – like hanging out in a Wal-Mart parking lot or going after much younger romantic obsessions – they’ve outgrown; they make the past appear like baby clothes: impossible to fit back into it, but not impossible to recycle on someone else or hold up in reverie. Maybe even with the immense powers of the empty brain, they can make bygones keep happening.

But the progress camp – purveyors of “optimism porn,” as someone on Twitter once quipped about Harvard professor Stephen Pinker – have made a strong run of their own in the annoyance dept. For the unfamiliar, optimism porn is all about context; it thrives on Twitter in particular as a rejoinder to (very accurate) tweets bemoaning wealth inequality, racial injustice, and warmongering. “Hey, look at these charts showing there have been fewer wars since 1945!” Yes, that’s a form of progress, but it might also be an historic anomaly, sustained only by norms around nuclear missiles, as Dan Carlin noted in a gripping podcast episode about the history of weapons of mass destruction.

Years ago, I entitled this post “The Battle of the Books” in hopes of discussing Jonathan Swift’s work of the same name, which features a debate between the Ancients and Moderns, each represented by equally fussy books in the St. James Library; hence my own much clumsier attempt to juxtapose the “glory days” crowd in opposition to the technoutopians. The piece focuses on how each camp thinks its particular era is the golden age of arts and letters. They’re allegorized by a spider (Moderns) and a bee (Ancients) who debate each other, prior to the actual authors of each era (everyone from Homer to Hobbes) engaging in actual violent combat.

While short, this satricial piece is, in my view, among the tightest and most quotable works of prose in English. It leads with a stunning self-referential opening line [all emphasis throughout is mine] – “Satire is a sort of glass wherein beholders do generally discover everybody’s face but their own” – and never relents.

The quip “anger and fury, though they add strength to the sinews of the body, yet are found to relax those of the mind” comes to mind equally during vigorous exercise or the frustrating angry exchanges of email and other internet-connected tools that do nothing for the body while sending the mind into a tailspin.

This segment reminds me of Elizabethan language about daggers and spears, but in my opinion supersedes Shakespeare et al. in the nuance it conveys about how writing has both an empowering and destructive effect on its most talented executors: “[I]nk is the great missive weapon in all battles of the learned, which, conveyed through a sort of engine called a quill, infinite numbers of these are darted at the enemy by the valiant on each side, with equal skill and violence, as if it were an engagement of porcupines. This malignant liquor was compounded, by the engineer who invented it, of two ingredients, which are, gall and copperas; by its bitterness and venom to suit, in some degree, as well as to foment, the genius of the combatants.

He then progresses to talk about the unbearable process of insisting your argument is better than anyone else’s, but notes that even the most definitive “trophy” of literary achievement ultimately become artifacts of controversy to be potentially dissolved by latter debates, like the groups I mentioned earlier who are ever looking forward:  “These trophies have largely inscribed on them the merits of the cause; a full impartial account of such a Battle, and how the victory fell clearly to the party that set them up. They are known to the world under several names; as disputes, arguments, rejoinders, brief considerations, answers, replies, remarks, reflections, objections, confutations. For a very few days they are fixed up all in public places, either by themselves or their representatives, for passengers to gaze at; whence the chiefest and largest are removed to certain magazines they call libraries, there to remain in a quarter purposely assigned them, and thenceforth begin to be called books of controversy. In these books is wonderfully instilled and preserved the spirit of each warrior while he is alive; and after his death his soul transmigrates thither to inform them.

This is exquisite commentary on the ever-living characteristics of books: “a restless spirit haunts over every book, till dust or worms have seized upon it.”

On the high ambitions but limited abilities of the Moderns; sounds like this could have been penned about proponents of perpetually underwhelming tech like virtual reality and autonomous cars: “for, being light-headed, they have, in speculation, a wonderful agility, and conceive nothing too high for them to mount, but, in reducing to practice, discover a mighty pressure about their posteriors and their heels.”

Swift also effortlessly shifts to some of the best speculative writing I’ve encountered, on par if not better than what he pulled off in “Gulliver’s Travels.” Witness this passage about a spider and a bee: The avenues to his castle were guarded with turnpikes and palisadoes, all after the modern way of fortification. After you had passed several courts you came to the centre, wherein you might behold the constable himself in his own lodgings, which had windows fronting to each avenue, and ports to sally out upon all occasions of prey or defence. In this mansion he had for some time dwelt in peace and plenty, without danger to his person by swallows from above, or to his palace by brooms from below; when it was the pleasure of fortune to conduct thither a wandering bee, to whose curiosity a broken pane in the glass had discovered itself, and in he went, where, expatiating a while, he at last happened to alight upon one of the outward walls of the spider’s citadel; which, yielding to the unequal weight, sunk down to the very foundation.”

A highly recognizable critique of filibustering senators and “contrarians” of all sorts who like nothing more than argument itself, undercutting the very “trophies” they were earlier cited as “At this the spider, having swelled himself into the size and posture of a disputant, began his argument in the true spirit of controversy, with resolution to be heartily scurrilous and angry, to urge on his own reasons without the least regard to the answers or objections of his opposite, and fully predetermined in his mind against all conviction.

The spider poetically describes a bee: “[B]orn to no possession of your own, but a pair of wings and a drone-pipe. Your livelihood is a universal plunder upon nature; a freebooter over fields and gardens; and, for the sake of stealing, will rob a nettle as easily as a violet.”

More on the temporarity of literary achievement and fame, of trophies than can easily fade,: “Erect your schemes with as much method and skill as you please; yet, if the materials be nothing but dirt, spun out of your own entrails (the guts of modern brains), the edifice will conclude at last in a cobweb; the duration of which, like that of other spiders’ webs, may be imputed to their being forgotten, or neglected, or hid in a corner.”

On what Ancients see in the itinerant art of the bee, which behaves like a poet searching for magical inspiration but knowing that legwork (literally, in this case) is necessary: “As for us, the Ancients, we are content with the bee, to pretend to nothing of our own beyond our wings and our voice: that is to say, our flights and our language. For the rest, whatever we have got has been by infinite labour and search, and ranging through every corner of nature; the difference is, that, instead of dirt and poison, we have rather chosen to till our hives with honey and wax; thus furnishing mankind with the two noblest of things, which are sweetness and light.”

Setting the table with cosmic implications: “Jove, in great concern, convokes a council in the Milky Way. The senate assembled, he declares the occasion of convening them; a bloody battle just impendent between two mighty armies of ancient and modern creatures, called books, wherein the celestial interest was but too deeply concerned.”

A fantastical personification of criticism as a vicious and ill-informed goddess: “Meanwhile Momus, fearing the worst, and calling to mind an ancient prophecy which bore no very good face to his children the Moderns, bent his flight to the region of a malignant deity called Criticism. She dwelt on the top of a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla; there Momus found her extended in her den, upon the spoils of numberless volumes, half devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, her father and husband, blind with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light of foot, hood- winked, and head-strong, yet giddy and perpetually turning. About her played her children, Noise and Impudence, Dulness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and Ill-manners. The goddess herself had claws like a cat; her head, and ears, and voice resembled those of an ass; her teeth fallen out before, her eyes turned inward, as if she looked only upon herself; her diet was the overflowing of her own gall; her spleen was so large as to stand prominent, like a dug of the first rate; nor wanted excrescences in form of teats, at which a crew of ugly monsters were greedily sucking; and, what is wonderful to conceive, the bulk of spleen increased faster than the sucking could diminish it.”

The best critique of “grammar hounds” and anyone else more obsessed with technical features than with clear meaning: “[B]y me beaux become politicians, and schoolboys judges of philosophy; by me sophisters debate and conclude upon the depths of knowledge; and coffee-house wits, instinct by me, can correct an author’s style, and display his minutest errors, without understanding a syllable of his matter or his language; by me striplings spend their judgment, as they do their estate, before it comes into their hands. It is I who have deposed wit and knowledge from their empire over poetry, and advanced myself in their stead. And shall a few upstart Ancients dare to oppose me?”

A thrilling description of Criticism influencing the discourse, with an especially striking line about “now desert” bookshelves: “The goddess and her train, having mounted the chariot, which was drawn by tame geese, flew over infinite regions, shedding her influence in due places, till at length she arrived at her beloved island of Britain; but in hovering over its metropolis, what blessings did she not let fall upon her seminaries of Gresham and Covent-garden! And now she reached the fatal plain of St. James’s library, at what time the two armies were upon the point to engage; where, entering with all her caravan unseen, and landing upon a case of shelves, now desert, but once inhabited by a colony of virtuosos, she stayed awhile to observe the posture of both armies.

Even amid the verbal pyrotechnics, Swift finds time to be unforgettably funny: “Then Aristotle, observing Bacon advance with a furious mien, drew his bow to the head, and let fly his arrow, which missed the valiant Modern and went whizzing over his head; but Descartes it hit; the steel point quickly found a defect in his head-piece; it pierced the leather and the pasteboard, and went in at his right eye. The torture of the pain whirled the valiant bow-man round till death, like a star of superior influence, drew him into his own vortex.”

Even better, about Virgil struggling with an ill-fitting helmet and appealing to Dryden for help: “The brave Ancient suddenly started, as one possessed with surprise and disappointment together; for the helmet was nine times too large for the head, which appeared situate far in the hinder part, even like the lady in a lobster, or like a mouse under a canopy of state, or like a shrivelled beau from within the penthouse of a modern periwig; and the voice was suited to the visage, sounding weak and remote.”


A memorable closing line to pair with the opening: “Farewell, beloved, loving pair; few equals have you left behind:


A simple agenda for the next Democratic government

The Democratic Party has little power in the U.S. right now. Its rival, the GOP, controls all three branches of the federal government as well as most of the statehouses. This situtation is not unprecedented, and in fact it might be exactly what one would expect after 8 years of a Democratic president; opposition parties typically gain seats, like Democrats themselves did during the latter half of the George W. Bush presidency.

While we can probably count on the normal ebbs and flows of American political cycles to deliver a Democratic majority in one or both houses of Congress by next year, we can’t take for granted that Democrats will pursue an optimal agenda once in control. Let me present a few ideas that I think should be front and center in 2019 and beyond:

  1. Expansion of the Affordable Care Act, with a public option, risk corridors, and federalized Medicaid services, along with Medicare buy-in for Americans 55-64.
  2. Federal legalization of marijuana for all purposes.
  3. Statehood for Puerto Rico and D.C., even if it means abolishing the legislative filibuster to get it through.
  4. Higher taxes on corporations and the super-rich (basically anyone making $400k or more a year). In addition to higher marginal rates, loopholes such as the one for carried interest (which is a windfall for Wall Street) need to closed.
  5. More legal immigration to offset a stagnant birth rate and ensure the sustainability of programs for the retired and elderly; fewer arbitrary rules for deportation, such as making trivial errors on paperwork.
  6. The abolition of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and Customs and Border Patrol (CBP). These agencies were created during the post-9/11 hysteria of the Bush administration and they have become ethnic cleansing police organizations committed to a nativist agenda that materially benefits no one.
  7. The impeachment of Supreme Court Justices Clarence Thomas and Neil Gorsuch. Thomas is a known harasser who never should have been seated; Gorsuch was appointed by a president who handily lost the popular vote, in place of the nominee of a previous president who never even received a Senate hearing.
  8. Hell, maybe even the rollback of judicial review itself, which Thomas Jefferson famously opposed after Marbury v. Madison.
  9. National legislation for maternity leave.
  10. Prohibition of right-to-work laws.
  11. Prhobition of voter ID laws, as required by both the 15th Amendment and the Voting Rights Act.
  12. Make Election Day and the Monday preceding it federal holidays.
  13. Expansion of Social Security benefits.
  14. Trillions of dollars in new infrastructure spending, without much reliance on public-private partnerships.
  15. Aggressive environmental policies, including carbon taxes on big polluters and the preservation of national monuments and parks from drilling/exploration.

This is just a start. Democrats are facing an ascendant right wing that is more powerful and extreme than at any time since the 1920s. They can’t afford to shy away from decisive actions and big visions.

World War I and inequality

Income inequality is an inescapable topic in American political discourse in 2017. It’s probably more accurate to talk about “wealth inequality,” though, since the most influential elites and corporations derive the bulk of their monies from the passive appreciation of assets (like stocks and bonds), rather than from paychecks. That quibble aside, why is inequality an issue worth talking about? Let’s look back to an event that ended a century ago this year – the First World War.

On the eve of World War I, the top 1% of British residents controlled a staggering 70 percent of its wealth. Similar gaps prevailed in France and Germany. These nations were the pivotal actors of the conflict, with Russia, the U.S., Austria-Hungary and Italy its secondary players. Inequality was an essential feature of all the pre-WWI societies in Europe and North America that had just emerged from the Gilded Age.

At the same time, many of these countries were in fact empires, overseeing vast territorial holdings spanning the globe. The U.K. and France were the preeminent colonial powers, but almost every industrialized country at the time, from the U.S. to Japan, had gotten in on the game starting in the late 1800s (indeed, the Anglo-Russian struggle for contorl of Central Asia was called “the Great Game”).

Inequality and imperialism were interrelated. With so much of all the western world’s wealth controlled by so few, there was an oversupply of money seeking out an inadequate amount of investment opportunities. The surplus of investible assets was driven by poor domestic aggregate demand stemming from inequality; hence, the need to continually look abroad for speculative openings offering high returns.

More specifically, colonial empires and massive militaries were the direct consequences of the disproportionate influence of a tiny, wealthy set of elites driving major policy decisions. Incidents such as the First Moroccan Crisis illustrated the high stakes of holding onto remote territory. Meanwhile, expansionism into Africa and Asia was reinforced by the growing power of corporate monopolies and cartels seeking to broaden their market pentetration to global scale.

We all know how World War I was resolved, with Germany in ruins, Russia converted to the USSR, and the U.S. with a newly assertive role in global politics, at least temporarily. But we don’t know how the next such crisis of inequality and imperialism – namely the one occurring right now – will end.

Since the Asian financial panic of the late 90s, the global economy has been dominated by speculative bubbles that were products of too much capital chasing too few opportunities. After Asia, there was the dotcom bust in 2001, the housing meltdown in 2008, and the current absurdities in crypto currency (e.g., Bitcoin) and Silicon Valley (raw water, anyone)?

Along the way, there has also been considerable consolidation in virtually every industry in the U.S. Mega mergers of hospitals, telecoms, retailers, etc. have concentrated growing amounts of power in fewer hands. Gigantic corporations including Microsoft, Comcast, AT&T, and Amazon, far from being forces for progress and inclusion as their modern PR-tailored images might suggest, have now aligned themselves with the far right-wing of the Republican Party to ensure low corporate tax rates. This is why you can’t separate the business aspects of the GOP from its racism; business supports provides the resources the party needs to exploit disadvantaged groups on other fronts.

Big business was central to the chaos that preceded WWI, primarily through its stake in colonial empires and military spending. Decades later, German companies were pivotal in convincing President Paul Von Hindenburg to appoint Hitler as chancellor, despite the latter’s defeat in the 1932 presidential election and his party’s lack of a governing majority in the Reichstag. It was big business, not the people led by “populism,” that enabled the most destructive warfare of all-time.

I’m not saying we’re heading for another 1914-1945 cataclysm. We should be wary, though, of how inequality is surging at a time when corporations are consolidating and supporting politicians who also favor enormous mlitary spending and possible adventurism in theaters such as Iran and North Korea.


Thoughts on Alabama

Remember the “Blue Wall?” If you’re unfamiliar with the term, it referred to the set of northeastern and midwestern states, spanning Maine to Minnesota, that had predominantly favored Democrats in presidential elections between 1988-2012. These states, representing traditional blue domains such as New York as well as pivotal swing territory such as Pennsylvania and Ohio, were thought to protect any Democratic candidate from losing the popular vote by providing a substantial Electoral College cushion. Here’s a look at the Blue Wall:

Screen Shot 2017-12-16 at 10.57.30 AM

A few caveats:

  • Ohio has voted with the winner of every presidential election after 1960 and is sometimes not included in the Blue Wall, but I’m including it since Democrats have not proven they can win presidential elections without it yet.
  • Minnesota hasn’t voted for a Republican for President since 1972, the longest such streak for any blue state.
  • Iowa and New Hampshire were both won once by George W. Bush.

The 2016 election shattered the Blue Wall, with Donald Trump becoming the first GOP candidate since the 1980s to carry Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin. He also decisively won both Iowa and Ohio, peeled off one of Maine’s electoral votes, and came very close to taking New Hampshire and Minnesota.

Oddly, I thought of the Blue Wall this week when Doug Jones defeated Roy Moore in the Alabama special election for the remainder of the term originally won by Jeff Sessions in 2014.  Alabama is the quintessential piece of the new Solid South, meaning it is as reliably red as any state on the map.

The old Solid South was a bastion of Democratic support, voting reliably for the slew of failed Democratic presidential candidates from the 1870s to the 1930s. Back then, the Democratic party was still attached to its segregationist roots. While this southern bloc stuck with FDR, it began to fragment in 1948 by giving its votes to Strom Thurmond’s Dixiecrat ticket. It then backed the unpledged elector slate in 1960, Barry Goldwater in 1964, and George Wallace in 1968. Richard Nixon’s 1972 landslide cemented the Solid South as the foundation of national GOP success.

Jones put a significant dent in this Red Wall, running from Texas to West Virginia, by defeating Moore. Among the former Confederate states, there were currently only 3 Democratic U.S. Senators prior to Jones’ victory, and 2 of them are from Virginia (Tim Kaine and Mark Warner); the other is Florida’s septuagenarian ex-astronaut Bill Nelson. Moreover, among the ex-Confederacy, every state except Virginia and Louisiana had a GOP trifecta at the end of 2017, meaning one-party control of its governorship, state senate, and state house.

With all of this context, I feel like the Jones upset is even more significant than Scott Brown’s special election victory over Martha Coakley in Massachusetts in 2010. Brown became the first GOP U.S. Senator from Massachusetts since the 1970s upon his seating. However, Republicans have sustained statewide success in the Bay State in recent years. Mitt Romney served as its governor from 2003-2007 and its current governor, Charlie Baker, is also GOP. Meanwhile, until Jones, Alabama hadn’t:

  • Elected a Democrat to any statewide office since 2008, when an ex-lieutenant governor was elected public service commissioner.
  • Elected a Democrat to the U.S. Senate since 1992, when current senior Senator Richard Shelby was reelected, only to switch over to the GOP in 1994
  • Elected any non-switcher Democrat to that body since 1990, when Howell Heflin – who relished Confederated “heritage” and was one of only two D votes against the Family and Medical Leave Act – won a third term.

In other words, Alabama had basically never elected a Democrat who fit the party’s modern mold as a progressive institution detached from its southern roots. Moreover, Alabama has been dominated by forces of reaction for centuries, having been central to the founding of the Confederacy (the first CSA capital was Montgomery, where the founding congress met), Jim Crow laws, the Thurmond campaign, the Wallace campaign, the anti-civil rights terrorism of the mid-20th century (Bull Connor et al.), the rollback of the Voting Right Acts (via Shelby v. Holder, a Supreme Court case that began in the Birmingham suburbs), and the election of Trump (his first big rally in 2015 was in Mobile).

The symbolism of Jone’s victory is also remarkable. A year ago, his seat was held by Sessions, a hardliner who was once denied a judgeship by Ronald Reagan for being too racist, who was lambasted by Coretta Scott King herself in a letter to the Senate, and who was the first sitting U.S. Senator to endorse Trump. Sessions ran unopposed in 2014, garnering 97% of the vote, and now he’s U.S. Attorney General; his seat will be occupied by a pro-choice, pro-Social Security, pro-net neutrality Democrat from 2018 onward. By winning, Jones also crushed the mythology around the political acumen of Steve Bannon (who vigourously supported Moore) and laid waste to the notion of Alabama as a place where Trump was unusualy popular and influential (he somehow endorsed the losing candidate twice in this race, first in the GOP runoff, then in the general election).

Practically speaking, Jones’ win also flips the idea that the 2018 U.S. Senate map is particularly daunting for Democrats. They now only have to gain 2+ seats and protect all or most of their own to take the chamber. This is easier than it sounds. The following GOP seats are in big trouble:

  • Arizona: the retiring Jeff Flake could easily allow the radical Kelli Ward to capture the GOP nomination against House Democrat Krysten Sinema, in state Trump carried by a slim 47-44 margin last year.
  • Nevada: Dean Heller has pissed off everyone by first opposing and then supporting Obamacare repeal, plus his state was carried by Hillary Clinton in 2016.
  • Tennessee: an open seat, this race could pit popular ex-governor Phil Bredesen (D) against House GOPer Marsha Blackburn.
  • Texas: somehow, Ted Cruz is even less popular in Texas than Moore was in Alabama, and he already has a credible and well-funded opponent in U.S. Rep Beto O’Rourke.

Meanwhile, yes, Democrats are defending numerous seats, including 10 in states Trump carried. But that’s not as bad it seems. Even these red state Dems are quite popular and lack top-tier opposition in many of these races. For example, Sherrod Brown (Ohio) will likely get a rematch against Josh Mandel, whom he comfortably defeated last time; Nelson (Florida) might not even have to face current Republican governor Rick Scott, who has hesitated about entering; and Joe Manchin (West Virginia) has held statewide office for more than a decade and never been in a close contest.

There’s also possible trouble ahead in both Arizona and Mississippi, both of which have octagenarian senators (John McCain and Thad Cochran, respectivley) who could resign or, given their well-documented health issues, die at any moment. We already discussed the issues for Republicans in the increasingly swing-y Arizona, but it’s worth mentioning that Mississippi has the largest percentage of African-Americans of any state (37%); for comparison, Alabama has 25%. Democrats routinely get 40-45% in statewide elections in the Magnolia State and could likely compete with a major turnout campaign and a poor GOP candidate, such as perennial contender and neoconfederate Repubclian state senator Chris McDaniel.

2017 has been a horrible year in many respects. The Alabama results provide some hope for a more sane government in the years ahead.

What Gabriel Harvey really said about Shakespeare and Oxenforde

Against all odds, Gabriel Harvey’s obscure Latin verse work Gratulationes Valdinenses has become a sacred text of conspiracy theorists everywhere – namely, the uniformed mistaken into thinking Edware de Vere (the 17th Earl of Oxford, who often signed as “Oxenford(e)”) wrote the works of William Shakespeare (he did not). Grautlationes Valdineses contains insincere orations to noblemen – including Oxenforde and his father-in-law, Cecil Burghley (incidentally NOT the model for Polonius from Hamlet) – when they were visiting nearby Audley End in 1578, as members of Queen Elizabeth’s court.

They love this string of words in particular, in the poem for Oxenforde:

vultus tela vibrat

Their preferred translation: “thy countenance shakes spears.”

There’s no way that’s right or that it means what they want it to.

First, this is a wishful translation, both in a technical and a contextual sense. My Latin is worse than my Greek, but “tela” is more often translated “arrows” – Oxenforde’s biographer, Alan H. Nelson (who notably doesn’t believe Oxenforde was Shakespeare) has rendered it as “your glance shoots arrows.” It can refer to “weapons” generally, too. The “vibrat” is also a red herring since it’s tempting to read it narrowly with reference the English derivation “vibrate,” instead of considering its multiple possible meanings.

Moreover, Harvey was de facto translating from English into Latin, since English was his first lanugage. It’s worth trying to understand what English idiom Harvey was attempting to render in Latin. Luckily, we have examples from both Thomas Dekker and Shakespeare himself [emphasis added]:

Dekker: “And do thine eyes shoot daggers at that man…”

Shakespeare: “I will speak daggers

Considering this Elizabethan idiom and Nelson’s translation, Harvey’s words likely have the thrust “your glance shoots daggers.”

This verse was written in 1578. Blank verse drama, in the form of Christopher Marlowe’s Tamburlaine, was still a decade away. Even in the impossible scenario that the “shakes spears” traslation is accurate, there’s no playwright of the same name to refer to.

Harvey also thought very little of Oxenforde. Here’s what he wrote years later, in English, about him [emphasis added]:

No words but valorous, no works but womanish only,
For life Magnificos, not a beck but glorious in show,
In deed most frivolous, not a look but Tuscanish always
His cringing side neck, eyes glancing, physnomy smirking.

Notice the reference to “glancing,” riffing on “vultus” as a Latin rendering of “glance.”

In contrast, he made this testimony about Shakespeare in 1601:

“The younger sort takes much delight in Shakespeares Venus, & Adonis: but his Lucrece, & his tragedie of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke, haue it in them, to please the wiser sort.”

Harvey was contemporarenous with both Shakespeare and Oxenforde (and outlived both of them by many years, until 1631). It’s clear he knew they weren’t the same person.