At Newcomb Hollow Beach this afternoon:
(If you hadn’t heard, Mr. Medici, 26, was fatally attacked a week ago by one of the great white sharks that have recently made our part of Cape Cod their home.)
At Newcomb Hollow Beach this afternoon:
(If you hadn’t heard, Mr. Medici, 26, was fatally attacked a week ago by one of the great white sharks that have recently made our part of Cape Cod their home.)
In the latest ploy to stall the Kavanaugh appointment until after the midterm elections, the Democrats have arranged for Mr. Kavanuagh’s accuser, Christine Ford, to demand that the FBI investigate her claim before she will consent to provide any testimony.
This is ridiculous, of course: the FBI exists to investigate federal crimes, not decades-old recovered memories of gropings alleged to have happened at unspecified times and locations, with no witnesses beyond those accused. Moreover, the FBI is an executive-branch agency, and cannot be summoned to action at the whim of the Senate. The whole thing is a transparently political maneuver, a desperate attempt by Democrats to get their way at any cost. (If you have liberal friends who think this is a fair tactic, you should ask them what, exactly, Judge Kavanaugh would have to do to refute this accusation to their satisfaction.)
Today Mr. Grassley has responded with a letter to Ms. Ford’s lawyers. It is clear and succinct: if Ms. Ford would like to tell her story to the Judiciary Committee, she may do so on Monday — in open or closed session, as she may prefer. And that’s that.
Read the letter here.
About a year ago, I wrote this:
Our attention, which is more precious than gold, and the one thing we must master if we are to have any hope at all of inner development, is increasingly spent in a virtual world created, manipulated, and harvested by a few increasingly powerful companies. (Note that we “pay’ attention, a usage that captures quite precisely the crucial fact that attention is a finite and valuable resource.) Our words, our wishes, our habits, our movements, are noticed, tracked, sifted, and analyzed ”” and remembered. (If you have a Google account, try going to https://myactivity.google.com/myactivity on a logged-in browser.) Meanwhile the human world, once so vast and cool, has now been compressed into a tiny hot space in which everything is brought into immediate contact with everything else. As I wrote in the essay linked just above:
In short, the smaller and hotter the world is ”” in other words, the more likely it becomes that any two “particles’ will impinge on each other in a given time ”” the more volatile, reactive, unstable, and “twitchy’ it becomes. As volatility and the rate of change increase, it becomes more and more difficult for systems and institutions that operate at a constant pace ”” the legislative processes of large democracies, for example ”” to respond effectively to innovations and crises.
As we adjust to this accelerating impingement, our attention, constantly interrupted and diverted, becomes harder and harder for us to control, even as we become more and more deeply addicted to being peppered with (mostly useless) information. To lose one’s smart-phone ”” in other words, to lose a thing that never existed in all of human history until just over a decade ago ”” is now a crisis requiring immediate action. Imagine really cutting yourself off: no cell-phone, no Google, no Amazon, no YouTube, no Facebook, no Twitter, no email, no texting, no Google Maps, no Wikipedia. Just a land-line, the radio, basic TV, and books. (Just like it was until I was in my forties.) Could you do it?
Let’s put it this way: whether you think you can or not, I bet you won’t. I bet I won’t either.
Something very big is happening to us, and it’s happening very quickly.
Here’s another quote, if I may, from that original (2013) essay about the relation of the human world to the ideal-gas laws. (In this model, the “particles” of the contained system are individual human beings, but the principle applies also to organizations functioning as individuals.)
In short, the smaller and hotter the world is ”” in other words, the more likely it becomes that any two “particles’ will impinge on each other in a given time ”” the more volatile, reactive, unstable, and “twitchy’ it becomes. As volatility and the rate of change increase, it becomes more and more difficult for systems and institutions that operate at a constant pace ”” the legislative processes of large democracies, for example ”” to respond effectively to innovations and crises.
At the same time, however, the shrinking distance between any two points in the world-network makes it possible for governments to monitor people and events, and to exert sovereign power, with an immediacy and granularity that is without historical precedent.
In short, the communication infrastructure, by bringing every human particle into immediate contact with every other, has shrunk the size of humanity’s “container” (and therefore the average distance between any two individual human “particles”) almost to zero — a shocking alteration of the human environment that has happened, on a historical scale, in almost no time at all. This has caused a sudden and tremendous increase in temperature and pressure, in just the same way that an internal-combustion engine compresses the fuel-air mixture to make it more explosive. In this new regime of constant and energetic impingement, it is much harder for stable structures to form, or for existing ones to endure, because they are battered into pieces at once by high-energy collisions. Moreover, it is in the nature of this human system immediately to focus attention on anything that suddenly comes into existence, which rapidly increases the rate of impingement high above the background level. Anything that sticks up, however briefly, is subjected at once to tremendous and energetic pressure, often before it even becomes stable.
What has become clearer to me in the five years since writing that post is that a special place in this system is occupied by the substrate itself: the medium that makes this immediate connectivity, and the resulting shrinkage of the world, possible in the first place. This substrate consists, in part, of our transportation infrastructure of highways, ships, and airlines, but all of those are still limited by the physical size of the world, and by all the burdens and encumbrances of matter. What has really been responsible for this “phase transition” in human existence is the Internet. And this means that those who control the Internet, especially the social media that bring everyone into direct contact with everyone else every minute of the day, have a tremendous new power — comparable to, but in my view exceeding, the control of the seas, or of the press, or of the railroads, wielded by the states and empires and corporations of the past. Those who administer these electronic media effectively control not only the size of the world, but who may live in it: both by the power to exile, and the power to destroy. In this they have emerged as a new order of sovereigns, with capabilities that seem increasingly greater than any government. As private entities, they also respect no borders or constitutional limitations.
What has this new regime created for us? A hot, collapsed world that lives always at the edge of “critical mass” — where every particle is in such close proximity to every other as to create a continuous storm of explosive chain reactions. Touch the network anywhere, and the whole thing twitches, bounces, and ripples; every microphone is open all the time, at full gain, with the system always at the edge of shrieking, destructive feedback. Moreover, these resonances, bouncing around the system, create ever-changing points of additive focus, where energy from every angle is suddenly and locally concentrated. To be caught in one of these foci can mean immediate destruction. It is increasingly within the power of those operating the system to starve, or incinerate, individual particles as they see fit.
Writing at Kakistocracy, here’s Porter:
I hope you won’t think me anything less than a grinning optimist if I were to opine that the path from corporate censorship to corporate oppression is practically frictionless. Social media, Internet infrastructure, and now even payment processors have raised their red flags in a coordinated assault. It’s been quite a demonstration of malice. And I suspect it’s one that’s barely even begun.
…The keystone to all of this is a registry, or an E-Verify on Legacy Americans. I presume this will be called a Hate-List, or Justice-Sheet, or Nazi-Latte, or whatever the most actresses demand. The intent being to maintain a list of untouchables. This will assuredly be managed by one or both the SPLC and ADL. And once they secure IP addresses of hate-speakers from Internet providers, an amply-populated catalogue will be available for broad corporate resolution.
…Obviously such a liberal utopia places power beyond the President in the hands of unelected, intensely hostile (and ethnically homogenous) List administrators. This is, of course, the entire purpose of being one. Such clawed-creatures will rapidly become the most feared in the country. Though frequently fear may be allayed through generous financial contributions.
But for those less generously inclined toward mortal enemies, life can be made quite difficult indeed. This as avenues for earning or enjoying a living become tightly constricted. And those who presume their children won’t suffer from taint will be highly disappointed. Why should our University accept the son of a registered hater when there are so many qualified foreign applicants?
…And if you don’t like what corporations are doing to you then just build your own Internet backbone, data centers, payment rails, and global logistics chain. I mean did it stop Sergey Brin, Jack Dorsey, or Jeff Bezos when they were denied income sources, commercial outlets, and marketing platforms?
You will by now have noticed that this post is 100% description and 0% prescription. Short of a Butlerian Jihad — which may come, but it’s hard to see it happening anytime soon — it’s hard to see anything but acceleration ahead, into a future that, as I noted here, we’ve chosen without any serious consideration at all.
As the Democrats launch a desperate last-ditch offensive against Donald Trump’s Supreme Court nominee, the president, in a flanking maneuver, has declassified an assortment of records — FISA applications, Strzok-Page texts, and whole lot more — that may be of considerable importance in exposing the real scandal in Washington: the weaponization of government agencies, by fraud, stealth, and deception, against a political opponent and a duly elected President.
For those of you keeping score at home, the blogger Doug Ross has put together an enormous timeline of deep-state skulduggery, complete with links to sources. You can read the embedded spreadsheet here.
This really is starting to feel like total war, no? The sides are starkly divided, and all pretense of comity is gone. As we can see from this last-minute sandbagging of Brett Kavanaugh with a wholly unsupported allegation (against which, I should add, he can make no possible defense), the Democrats will do anything within their power to sabotage the appointment, hoping to wrest the levers of Congressional power from the GOP in a few weeks. Meanwhile the battle-lines are just as clear outside the Capitol as well. There are two Americas now, and they have already moved, I think, beyond any hope of reconciliation. In the eyes of much of the Left, at least, the cause is no longer political, it is moral and religious. The enemy is no longer the loyal opposition, playing a well-known game with familiar rules and a presumption of mutual respect; they are now, as Joe Biden said a few days ago, “virulent people” — the “dregs of society”. For anyone old enough to have been taught any history in school, such dehumanization of one’s countrymen should have a distinctly recognizable sound: it is the ominous opening chord of an all-too-familiar march.
With that in mind, you should listen to the latest in John Batchelor’s ongoing conversation with historian Michael Vlahos on the topic of civil war. It is in two parts, here and here.
Our friend Bill Vallicella explores the tension — which he believes is a fruitful one — between Athens and Jerusalem.
Why is such a tension — an essential feature of Christianity, with its mysteries and paradoxes, that is conspicuously absent in Islam — fruitful?
It is a fruitful tension in the West but also in those few individuals who are citizens of both ‘cities,’ those few who harbor within them both the religious and the philosophical predisposition. It is a tension that cannot be resolved by elimination of one or the other of the ‘cities.’ But why is it fruitful?
The philosopher and the religionist need each other’s virtues. The philosopher needs reverence to temper his analytic probing and humility to mitigate the arrogance of his high-flying inquiry and over-confident reliance on his magnificent yet paltry powers of thought. The religionist needs skepticism to limit his gullibility, logical rigor to discipline his tendency toward blind fideism, and balanced dialectic to chasten his disposition to fanaticism.
Eric Hoffer told us that such tension, though sometimes difficult to bear, is nevertheless essential for our becoming fully human, because these tidal forces “stretch men’s souls”:
It is the stretched soul that makes music, and souls are stretched by the pull of opposites””opposite bents, tastes, yearnings. Where there is no polarity””where energies flow smoothly in one direction””there will be much doing but no music.
Amen to that, say I.
Read Bill’s post here.
Here is a remarkable video clip of the center of Hurricane Florence.
Well, I’m back from our annual musical retreat in the Isles of Shoals, but I’m completely exhausted. (We get up early, spend the days organizing and rehearsing, then play for the rest of the folks on the island from cocktail hour until the “wee small hours of the morning”. Getting more than about four or five hours of sleep is out of the question.) My voice is shot, I’m weary to the bone, and I’ve got to work two long days (from home, mercifully) on Tuesday and Wednesday.
I’m eager to get back to normal around here, though, and I’m sure I’ll be fit for purpose again shortly. There’s a lot to comment on.
Returning from a month of happy isolation and indifference to the news, I see that we’ve been slipping ever deeper into bitter factional strife, if not yet (quite) outright war. The Kavanaugh hearings, which I had on in the background as I worked these past two days, are an obvious and dispiriting example. A steady stream of obstreperous lunatics rose during the proceedings to holler and disrupt, and to be swiftly arrested, one after another, by the hard-working Capitol police. (An exercise for the reader: why are these brats, whose response to reasoned debate is to bawl like infants, always of the Left?) Meanwhile, from the very first seconds of the hearing, Democrat senators ignored rules of order, spoke out of turn, and tried to shut the whole thing down on the fatuous premise that they hadn’t been given enough information to assess Mr. Kavanaugh’s record — his more than 300 publicly available opinions and scores of published essays notwithstanding. What had been intended by the Framers to be an august proceeding among dignified adults in what has been called “the world’s greatest deliberative body” seemed more like Black Friday at Best Buy.
Why is this?
First and foremost, it is because of the great, century-long movement of power from localities to the Federal government, even as the nation has grown vastly larger and more diverse. It should be obvious to all that the size and diversity of the United States has already pushed it well beyond the point where it can be governed responsively, or flexibly — to put it simply, governed well — by a unitary apparatus in Washington. This accelerating centripetal shift has hoovered up power from state and local systems with increasing thoroughness and granularity, to the point where even the most obviously provincial and personal matters fall under the vigilance and regulation of the Federal panopticon. This is a thing that simply could not have happened, or perhaps even been imagined, in the Founders’ day: given the limitations of communication and transportation in that era, even the most tyrannical despot could not have presumed to manage every detail of a vast and variegated empire the way Washington controls every American’s life and business now. (It has only become possible, to use Churchill’s ominous phrase, “by the lights of perverted science”.) Because of this enormous concentration of power, control of Washington is now of paramount, even existential, importance to both political parties.
Second, while all this has been going on, the Congress — the branch of government that was designed to be the most closely controlled by, and answerable to, the people — has for decades been delegating its law-making power to other, unelected and unaccountable, agencies of government. This is in large part, I think, an inherent liability of the system itself, in that members of Congress, who must stand for election every two or six years, can in this way insulate themselves from responsibility for actually legislating: they can simply outsource the decision-making (and in actual effect, their Constitutional power of law-making) to agencies like the EPA, the ICC, the FCC, OSHA, etc.
Third, in no small part because of increasing demographic diversity, but also because of cultural Marxism’s “long march through the institutions”, American comity and commonality has diminished sharply (and catastrophically). This loss of commonality, together with increasing secularism and an ascendant philosophy of presentism, materialism and skepticism, has led to a sharp assault on the traditional vertical hierarchies and horizontal ligatures that the Founders understood to be essential for binding a diverse population into a nation.
Once, the idea of rights (and by that I mean what are called “negative” rights, which are simply various natural rights of personal liberty, and were, for the most part, all that the Founders thought necessary to secure) entailed a corresponding sense of civic duty. Now the idea of duties seems quaint — while every imaginable blessing has become a “right”, regardless of whether a newly discovered right (such as healthcare, food, shelter, college education, etc.) imposes a duty upon someone else to provide it. This has led to a widening fissure between those Americans who believe in, and seek to live by, the general principles of the nation’s founding, and those who believe that the nation should be ordered only according to this new and expansive concept of “rights”, with outmoded traditions of family, civic, and religious life stripped away. Moreover, the latter vision isn’t going to come into being all by itself: the coercive nature of positive “rights”, which by definition entail taking the fruits of the labor of others for their provision, necessarily involves the government in confiscation and redistribution — often, if not always, in violation of what the Founders saw as the natural rights of liberty and property. This is not to say that a good-hearted people cannot agree to systems of redistribution, both public and private, for the sake of expansive social services — but such a thing is most easily accomplished in societies that have at least three important, perhaps even necessary qualities: social cohesion, public trust, and industriousness. In the United States the first of these is effectively destroyed, the second is failing rapidly, and the third is far from evenly distributed. This means that the instantiation of the new and expansive notion of “rights” depends, almost exclusively, upon exertions of Federal power. And so control of the Federal apparatus becomes paramount.
Fourth, this increase in factional strife having led to an increasingly divided and feckless Congress, one that tends whenever possible to dodge accountability for promising the impossible by punting its powers to the great Federal bureaucracy, the judiciary has established greater and greater power — both by its own assertion of such supremacy, and by the vacuum created by Congressional lassitude and paralysis. The Supreme Court has, in many recent decisions, effectively written new and supreme law, often of fundamental importance for the social and political structure of the nation. This means that control of the Court is in many ways the most important prize of all; even the Presidency itself is so bitterly contested, in large part, because of the presidential power to appoint Justices.
In short, then: the Federal government — which was originally imagined as a small and lightweight apparatus, with powers few and limited, intended only to arrange matters of common interest to the States, and to present a unitary face to the world at large — has become so overwhelmingly powerful that controlling it is worth fighting to the death, even as the Court has emerged as the reigning authority within the government. All this is happening at a time when the traditions, virtues, mutual loyalties, and cultural commonalities so necessary to the survival of a great nation as a nation are being ground into dust.
How can this end well?
It’s September, and after a restful summer break, it’s time to start getting back to normal operations around here. (There’s been a lot to talk about.) The next few days are busy ones, though: I’ll be working long hours today and tomorrow, and from Friday until Monday I’ll be on remote and rocky Star Island for an annual musical retreat with some old friends.
So: thanks for your patience, readers, and I look forward to filling these pages again soon.
From our reader and commenter “Whitewall” comes a link to an excellent piece by Richard Fernandez: a review of Michael Walsh’s new book, The Fiery Angel. (Mr. Walsh’s previous book, The Devil’s Pleasure Palace, is excellent, and I recommend it to you all.)
What struck me in particular as I read Mr. Fernandez’s review was a fantastic metaphor for the self-destruction of high Western culture (which was brought about, as I have argued often in these pages, by the unstoppably corrosive effect of the radical skepsis bequeathed to us by the Enlightenment — of which modern secularism, and the post-modernist rejection of objective reality, are merely late-stage symptoms). Metaphors, which can illuminate deep isomorphisms between things we understand well and things we don’t, are a tremendous help in making sense of the world, and this is a startlingly good one.
We read:
No one in the captured institutions was prepared for malfunctions displaying the missing-dependency error message. Yet every system, including the one the Left paradoxically relies upon to keep its programs in clover, depends on a non-obvious chain of libraries going all the way down to the foundation. Deleting God, patriotism, heroic myths and taboos and all the “useless stuff” from Western culture turns out to be as harmless as navigating to the system folder (like C:\Windows\System32), “selecting all,” and pressing delete.
That’s brilliant. Read Mr. Fernandez’s article here.
In a recent post our friend Bill Vallicella sticks to his guns regarding what he considers the “mistake” of looking at the missionary leftism of the modern West as a religion. He prefers to use the alienans expression “ersatz religion” to describe it, while I’ve said all along that it really is a religion — not only by function and form, but also by pedigree and historical lineage. (And not just any religion, mind you, but a very particular religion, transplanted to New England in the seventeenth century, that gradually took on the pestiferous, secularized form in which it has infected the modern world.)
I’ve nothing new to say about it today, but I thought it might be worth re-linking a series of posts that explores this little disagreement (which might, I admit, seem hair-splitting to some of you) in detail.
First, I posted this discussion of an essay by William Deresciewicz identifying the religious takeover of our colleges and universities. (A couple of days later, I added this.)
Bill replied, at his place, with a detailed counterargument.
I then offered this in response.
Bill then posted this brief item (but without having first read the post just above).
Finally, I added a brief post quoting Moldbug.
All of this is a year old, and probably not of much interest to very many people; I realize that this may seem a pointless and pettifogging dispute. But given the pervasive and pestilential effect of this modern mind-virus in our ideological ecosystem, I think it’s important to get its taxonomy right.
Once again we call your attention to the ongoing conversation between John Batchelor and historian Michael Vlahos on the darkening clouds of civil war. You can find all of these podcast episodes here.
Once again, it’s August, and the weather here in the Outer Cape is warm and sultry. Suddenly, swimming my daily mile in Wellfleet’s clear glacial kettle-ponds, gathering and consuming our renowned oysters, gazing at the blue horizon, and slowly working my way through a swelling backlog of books (including Thomas West’s book about the Founding) all seem more urgent than paying any attention at all to events in the wider world, or scribbling dyspeptic commentary in these pages.
So I hope you will forgive me, dear readers, for a sharp reduction in output until early September. I’ll probably post something now and then; if so, new content will appear beneath this item, which I am going to pin to the top of the page.
Thanks to all, and enjoy the rest of the summer!
A reader has sent me this link, to a blog dedicated to what has come to be known as “pizzagate”. I present it without comment, for now at least.
Here’s a fine meditation, by Bill Vallicella, on the tension between reason and faith, and what it means for the philosopher who is also a Christian.
I’ve just read a brief interview with Sir Roger Scruton over at National Review. (Hat-tip to our friend David Duff.)
This caught my eye:
[Interviewer Madeleine Kearns]: What is the difference between a reactionary and a conservative?
SRS: A reactionary is fixed on the past and wanting to return to it; a conservative wishes to adapt what is best in the past to the changing circumstances of the present.
With due respect to Sir Roger (and the amount due is immense), I think that the distinction he makes, although it ought to be accurate, is no longer apt: today’s typical “conservative” is now what, in my youth, would have been considered somewhere well left of center. He is perhaps best described by Michael Malice’s remark that “Conservatism is progressivism driving the speed limit.”
To cherish and respect any part of the past whatesoever — what was sacred, what was respected, and what was understood by all, until very recently, to be good or true — and to wish to preserve and protect it for generations unborn, is now a reactionary stance.
For example, Sir Roger describes as “conservative” the “vital battle to defend fundamental institutions, such as marriage…”. But to restore the traditional meaning of marriage to the primacy in the public order that it has enjoyed throughout history would now require not conservation, but reaction — not an ongoing interweaving of old strands of culture into a new and evolving tapestry, but wholesale reversal and rejection of a new and smothering social fabric that is now blanketing and extinguishing the ancient flame that Sir Roger, every bit as much as any of us over here in the remote fastnesses of the reactionary landscape, hopes to keep alight.
I should say also that I know hardly any self-described “reactionaries” who would simply roll back the clock in toto, or would imagine that such a thing is even possible. (All it would take to disabuse anyone of such a silly idea, I think, would be a toothache.)
Is this terminological nitpicking worth quibbling about? Probably not, so in deference to Sir Roger, I’ll say no more.
I’ll leave you with this gem:
“Populism’ is a word used by leftists to describe the emotions of ordinary people, when they do not tend to the left.
And this:
MK: Can one be a hopeful conservative without God?
SRS: Yes, but it helps to believe in God, since then one’s hopes are fixed on a higher reality, and that stops one from imposing them on the world in which we live.
With a hat-tip to the Maverick Philosopher, here’s an essay by Bruce Thornton arguing that we might as well give up on political debate with the cryptoreligious Left. The best recourse, he tells us, is ridicule. (Hume was right: reason is the slave of the passions.)
I agree with Professor Thornton about the futility of debate — we’ve moved well past the point where that might have been productive — but I see no reason to imagine that ridicule will accomplish anything either, other than to move us at a slightly brisker pace toward whatever denouement lies ahead. A showdown is at this point inevitable, I think.
That said, the piece gives a good summary of conditions on the battlefield, even if the tactical plan is too optimistic. Read it here.
Sorry about the scanty output: it’s summer, and I’m on a reduced schedule.
I have begun reading The Political Theory of the American Founding, which you may recall from our link to, and subsequent discussion of, Michael Anton’s review. The book directly addresses several questions I have been stewing over for a long time now, for example: Are natural rights defensible in the absence of religious belief? Is America’s current predicament due to a rejection of the founding principles, an increase in secularism, demographic change, abandonment of a sense of civic duty, or some combination of the above? Or did the Enlightenment itself (and the Founding itself) contain a “poison pill’ whose lethal effects we are only now seeing?
I should have a good deal more to say about the book in a little while.
Meanwhile, Michael Anton has been at the center of a brouhaha brought on by his making the argument, in a public forum, that the Fourteenth Amendment does not grant birthright citizenship to anyone whose mother managed to get herself across our border in time to deliver a baby. He is completely right about this, of course, and he responds to his critics here. See also his related essay on the American social compact.
Back soon.
With a hat-tip to Bill Vallicella, here’s a survey of the blood-soaked political battlefield from Victor Davis Hanson.
John Batchelor discusses, with former federal prosecutor Andrew McCarthy, the FISA-court application that got the Mueller investigation started. (The redacted application was finally released this weekend in response to persistent FOIA pressure by Tom Fitton of Judicial Watch.)
The interview is in two parts, here and here.
Mr. McCarthy writes about the release in his latest column, here. He focuses in particular on the FBI’s use of the word “VERIFIED” to describe the wholly unverified allegations in the Steele dossier, and is astonished that the FBI, the DOJ, and the FISA court would work together to produce a FISA warrant without rigorously vetting the sources of the relevant allegations. (Christopher Steele, on whose say-so the whole thing rests, was not a primary, and perhaps was not even a secondary or tertiary, source.)
See also Byron York’s careful comparison of the newly released document with the claims made in the Nunes memo of five months ago.
From “The Authentic Reactionary“, by NicolÁ¡s GÁ³mez DÁ¡vila (1913”“1994):
History is a necessity that freedom produces and chance destroys.
This is a beautiful formulation: our freely chosen actions put in train an expanding system of consequences that, being beyond the control of any individual and therefore subject to an irreducibly complex web of contingency, lie beyond the scope of human agency to predict or control. Why is this process a “necessity”? Because we cannot but live and act — and react.
In this essay GÁ³mez DÁ¡vila defines the authentic reactionary as one who, at the same time, condemns the entropic flow of history but resigns himself to acceptance. This resignation puts him at odds with both the radical and the liberal liberal progressive.
To GÁ³mez DÁ¡vila, the radical progressive sees the dialectic advance of history as reflecting the inexorable unfolding of reason in the world, and therefore not a thing to be condemned; one cannot coherently accept the necessity of history and object to it:
For the radical progressive, then, to condemn history is not just a vain undertaking, but also a foolish undertaking. A vain undertaking because history is necessity; a foolish undertaking because history is reason.
We see this attitude summed up again and again in the phrases “the right side of history”, and bromides about the “arc of the moral Universe” “bending toward Justice”.
Meanwhile, for the liberal progressive, history is contingent upon the action of the will, and so we are under a moral compulsion not to accept history as necessity. The reactionary’s condemnation of history compels him not just to observe with disapproval, but to act:
Revolutionary action epitomizes the ethical obligation of the liberal progressive, because to break down what impedes it is the essential act of liberty as it is realized. History is an inert material that a sovereign will fashions. For the liberal progressive, then, to resign oneself to history is an immoral and foolish attitude. Foolish because history is freedom; immoral because liberty is our essence.
The reactionary is, nevertheless, the fool who takes up the vanity of condemning history and the immorality of resigning himself to it. Radical progressivism and liberal progressivism elaborate partial visions. History is neither necessity nor freedom, but rather their fl exible integration. History is not, in fact, a divine monstrosity. The human cloud of dust does
not seem to arise as if beneath the breath of a sacred beast; the epochs do not seem to be ordered as stages in the embryogenesis of a metaphysical animal; facts are not imbricated one upon another as scales on a heavenly fish.But if history is not an abstract system that germinates beneath implacable laws, neither is it the docile fodder of human madness. The whimsical and arbitrary will of man is not its
supreme ruler. Facts are not shaped, like sticky, pliable paste, between industrious fingers.In fact, history results neither from impersonal necessity nor from human caprice, but rather from a dialectic of the will where free choice unfolds into necessary consequences. History does not develop as a unique and autonomous dialectic, which extends in vital dialectic the dialectic of inanimate nature, but rather as a pluralism of dialectical processes, numerous as free acts and tied to the diversity of their fleshly grounds. If liberty is the creative act of history, if each free act produces a new history, the free creative act is cast upon the world in an irrevocable process. Liberty secretes history as a metaphysical spider secretes the geometry of its web. Liberty is, in fact, alienated from itself in the same gesture in which it is assumed, because free action possesses a coherent structure, an internal organization, a regular proliferation of sequelae. The act unfolds, opens up, and expands into necessary consequences, in a manner compatible with its intimate character and with its intelligible nature. Every act submits a piece of the world to a specific configuration.
History, therefore, is an assemblage of freedoms hardened in dialectical processes. The deeper the layer whence free action gushes forth, the more varied are the zones of activity that the process determines, and the greater its duration. The superficial, peripheral act is expended in biographical episodes, while the central, profound act can create an epoch for an entire society. History is articulated, thus, in instants and epochs: in free acts and in dialectical processes. Instants are its fleeting soul, epochs its tangible body. Epochs stretch out like distances between two instants: its seminal instant, and the instant when the inchoate act of a new life brings it to a close. Upon hinges of freedom swing gates of bronze.
GÁ³mez DÁ¡vila proposes that this admixture of freedom and necessity means that historically effective acts of reactionary will are possible only at what he calls the “fissures” of the historical process:
[W]hile the dialectical process in which freedoms have been poured out lasts, the freedom of the nonconformist is twisted into an ineffectual rebellion. Social freedom is not a permanent option, but rather an unforeseen auspiciousness in the conjunction of affairs. The exercise of freedom supposes an intelligence responsive to history because confronting an entire society alienated from liberty, man can only lie in wait for the noisy crackup of necessity. Every intention is thwarted if it is not introduced into the principal fissures of a life.
In the face of history ethical obligation to take action only arises when the conscience consents to a purpose that momentarily prevails, or when circumstances culminate in a conjunction propitious to our freedom. The man whom destiny positions in an epoch without a foreseeable end, the character of which wounds the deepest fibers of his being, cannot heedlessly sacrifice his repugnance to his boldness, nor his intelligence to his vanity. The spectacular, empty gesture earns public applause, but the disdain of those governed by reflection. In the shadowlands of history, man ought to resign himself to patiently undermining human presumption. Man is able, thus, to condemn necessity without contradicting himself, although he is unable to take action except when necessity collapses.
In other words, “there is a tide in the affairs of men”, and action is doomed to ineffectiveness except when it is taken at the flood (although perhaps it would be truer to GÁ³mez DÁ¡vila’s argument to suggest that it must be taken at the ebb).
The outstanding, and most contentious, questions on the modern Right — from ordinary conservatives to those of us in the remote fastnesses of neoreaction — are: What ought we to do? Ought we to do anything at all? Is political activism, the habitual mode of the Left, an appropriate response for the Right?
Perhaps the question ought to be: Where stands the tide?
Today I was sent an article from the New York Times about Susan Unterberg, a philanthropist who supports female artists. The item was sent to me “as another example of how women are underpaid and not supported”.
An excerpt:
“They don’t get museum shows as often as men, they don’t command the same prices in the art world,’ [Ms. Unterberg] said. “And it doesn’t seem to be changing.’
Statistics cited by the National Museum of Women in the Arts show that female artists earn 81 cents for every dollar made by male artists; that work by female artists makes up just 3 percent to 5 percent of major permanent museum collections in the United States and Europe; and that of some 590 major exhibitions by nearly 70 institutions in the United States from 2007 through 2013, only 27 percent were devoted to female artists.
“Women continue to be seriously undervalued and underappreciated,’ [artist Carrie Mae] Weems said. “The work is not taken as seriously, and men are still running the game. Men in power support men in power, and they want to see men in power.’
Here we have yet another stubborn “achievement gap”. Why does it exist? The answer endorsed in this article is clearly the one adumbrated just above: a conspiracy of oppression by men. Are we sure? Let’s think about what it takes to become a successful artist.
We should note up front that most artists, the overwhelming majority, are not successful, which means that those who do succeed at making a good living are outliers, a tiny percentile of aspirants who actually possess whatever qualities are necessary for success (and who have, as is necessary for any fruitful endeavor, some good luck as well).
What are those qualities?
1) First of all, and most obviously of all, there is artistic talent. To be successful in a highly competitive market, modest talent probably won’t do (unless compensated by really superior gifts as regards the other necessary qualities). Just as becoming an elite mathematician or physicist requires exceptional native ability, it is not unreasonable to suppose that the same is true in the arts.
2) Next is discipline. It is not enough to have talent; one must also have the self-mastery required to put in thousands of hours, often tedious hours, learning and practicing the skills needed to allow talent to reach its full expression.
3) The visual arts being individual pursuits, one must also have a penchant for solitude, and be willing to put aside much of one’s social life, perhaps including marriage and child-rearing, to spend long hours working alone.
4) To do truly original work, one must also have an indifference to criticism, a willingness to pursue a distinctive vision even in the face of public scorn.
5) Finally, financial success nearly always takes a knack for aggressive self-promotion.
The issue at hand is a statistical gap between the prominence of men and women in the arts. Nobody is suggesting that there aren’t some elite and enormously successful female artists, but rather that the distribution is skewed toward men. Before we can make a diagnosis, then, we must ask, and answer, the essential question: if the qualities listed above are necessary for success in the arts, is their statistical distribution identical in men and women? This is a purely empirical question, and not a political or ideological one.
What about innate talent? Keep in mind that what is needed for success, generally, is not modest talent, but elite gifts, way out on the right tail of the bell-curve. Even if we assume that males and females have the same talent on average, might the distribution be flatter in one sex than the other, meaning that there will be more individuals of one sex than the other out on the tails of the distribution? (This appears to be the case with IQ; there are more males with very high and very low IQ than females.)
The same questions can be asked about the other four qualities. Is it, for example, at least possible that women are statistically less likely to want to work in solitude, and not allow themselves to be distracted by, in particular, the demands of motherhood?
None of this seems to have occurred to the editors of the Times, and no doubt customary attitudes, prejudices, and preferences do indeed make up some part of the picture. But unless we have answers to these questions, it is premature and unwarranted, to say nothing of inflammatory and accusatory, to ascribe all of this achievement gap to the malevolence of men.
An injunction blocking a California law that threatens gun owners with fines or imprisonment if they don’t surrender or otherwise dispose of “high-capacity” magazines (the term refers to anything over ten rounds) has been upheld by, if you can believe it, the Ninth Circuit.
David French has the details in a column published yesterday. He cites with approval a passage from the original lower-court inunction:
Violent gun use is a constitutionally-protected means for law-abiding citizens to protect themselves from criminals. The phrase “gun violence’ may not be invoked as a talismanic incantation to justify any exercise of state power. Implicit in the concept of public safety is the right of law-abiding people to use firearms and the magazines that make them work to protect themselves, their families, their homes, and their state against all armed enemies, foreign and domestic. To borrow a phrase, it would indeed be ironic if, in the name of public safety and reducing gun violence, statutes were permitted to subvert the public’s Second Amendment rights ”” which may repel criminal gun violence and which ultimately ensure the safety of the Republic.
He continues with an important point that should be made more often:
Much of the modern argument over gun control revolves around the effort to label certain kinds of semi-automatic rifles (and magazines over ten rounds) as “military style’ weapons that are effectively unprotected by the Second Amendment. Yet the Ninth Circuit’s language ”” rooted in the history of the amendment ”” links constitutional protection to a weapon’s potential militia use. In other words, the “military style’ moniker actually connects the guns in question to the historic purpose of the right to bear arms.
Gun-control zealots want it both ways: they attack the individual right to keep and bear arms by focusing on the Second Amendment’s prefatory clause “A well-regulated militia…”, and then go after enormously popular rifle platforms as “military-style” weapons. (These arguments are obviously contradictory — but the end, as always, justifies the means.)
Further on, there’s this:
For now, hundreds of thousands of California gun owners remain law-abiding. They don’t have to face the choice between surrendering the magazines that help keep their families safe and complying with a confiscatory law. Already, there were indications of passive resistance. As the Sacramento Bee reported last year, “Talk to gun owners, retailers and pro-gun sheriffs across California and you’ll get something akin to an eye roll when they’re asked if gun owners are going to voluntarily part with their property because Democratic politicians and voters who favor gun control outnumber them and changed the law.’
Read the rest here.
Following on our previous post, today we bring you a column by Angelo Codevilla about Monday’s conference in Helsinki. It begins:
The high professional quality of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin’s performance at their Monday press conference in Helsinki contrasts sharply with the obloquy by which the bipartisan U.S. ruling class showcases its willful incompetence.
Though I voted for Trump, I’ve never been a fan of his and I am not one now. But, having taught diplomacy for many years, I would choose the Trump-Putin press conference as an exemplar of how these things should be done. Both spoke with the frankness and specificity of serious business. This performance rates an A+.
Both presidents started with the basic truth.
Putin: The Cold War is ancient history. Nobody in Russia (putting himself in this category) wants that kind of enmity again. It is best for Russia, for America, and for everybody else if the two find areas of agreement or forbearance.
Trump: Relations between the globe’s major nuclear powers have never been this bad””especially since some Americans are exacerbating existing international differences for domestic partisan gain. For the sake of peace and adjustment of differences where those exist and adjustment is possible, Trump is willing to pay a political cost to improve those relations (if, indeed further enraging his enemies is a cost rather than a benefit).
In short, this was a classic statement of diplomatic positions and a drawing of spheres of influence.
Mr. Codevilla continues by examining the geostrategic status quo, and the interests that Messrs. Trump and Putin had sought to defend and advance at this conference. Then there is this:
This led to the final flourish. The Associated Press reporter demanded that Trump state whether he believes the opinions of U.S. intelligence leaders or those of Putin. It would be healthy for America were it to digest Trump’s answer: The truth about the charge that Russia stole the contents of the Democratic National Committee’s computer server is not to be found in the opinions of any persons whatever. The truth can be discovered only by examining the server in question””assuming it has not been tampered with since the alleged event. But, said Trump emphatically, those making the accusations against Russia have refused to let the server be examined by U.S. intelligence or by any independent experts. What is the point of accusations coupled with refusal of access to the facts of the matter?
The classic texts of diplomatic practice teach that diplomacy advances the cause of peace and order only to the extent that its practitioners avoid contentious opinions and stick to demonstrable facts.
The AP reporter, who should be ashamed, is beyond shame. Then again, so are the ruling class representatives who have redoubled their animus against Trump. Cheap partisanship is not all that harmful. It is the transfer of domestic partisan animus to international affairs, however, that has the potential to start wars.
Precisely so. It is often not the bellicosity of national leaders, but rather the intrigues, yearnings, and political or military cacoethes of their emissaries and generals, that start wars. (For example, in July of 1914 Kaiser Wilhelm, Emperor Franz Josef, and Tsar Nicholas were all horrified by the prospect of war, and each one of them wanted to avoid it however possible. Their generals and foreign ministers, though, persuaded them that war was inevitable — having themselves labored behind the scenes to make it so.) For this reason, in a tightly coupled world bristling with nuclear weapons, diplomacy and statecraft at the highest level are absolute necessities. That the fools and brats who control our media and so many of our political institutions are so unwise, so unlettered, and so unreflective as not to grasp this elementary historical truth is perhaps the greatest peril of our era.
Read Mr. Codevilla’s essay here.
How wearying it is to watch the reaction of the press, and of his political enemies, to President Trump’s press conference with Vladimir Putin. The hyperbole — “Treason! Pearl Harbor! Kristallnacht!” — would be comical if we weren’t already at about the halfway point on the road to civil war. (This is the same crowd, remember, who cried bloody murder when Ronald Reagan referred to the USSR as an “evil empire”.)
It would be a very good thing for us to find some way to get along with Russia. Not only would we be able, as partners, to exert a dominating influence where our interests coincide (and they coincide in many places), but the alternative — an escalating Second Cold War, with potential flashpoints in, to name just a few hot spots, the Baltic, Ukraine, and Syria — is the only external circumstance in the world at the moment that actually rises to a genuine existential threat. (The greatest threats of all, of course, are still endogenous: factional war, cultural collapse, and suicidal immigration policies.)
Since the fall of the Soviet Union, our policy has been to grind and provoke Russia in every way imaginable. We have meddled in their elections far more consequentially than anything they might have done to ours. We have fomented an anti-Russian revolution in Ukraine, abrogated arms-control treaties, and pushed NATO right up to Russia’s frontiers. In doing so all this (and more) we have spoiled every chance to form what could have been a mutually beneficial relationship.
I am old enough to remember the height of the First Cold War; there were moments when we missed mutual nuclear annihilation by a hair’s breadth, sometimes by nothing more than luck. We are in a situation now that is no less dangerous, and in many ways more so — and not least because any overture that might pull us back from the brink is denounced as treason, and as further evidence of Mr. Trump’s fealty to Mr. Putin.
President Trump is right to do what he can to restore sanity, and if possible even comity, to our relationship with Russia. He deserves our support as he tries to do so.
I’m still too distracted by my houseful of relatives — four generations in all! — to do any writing, or even to pay any serious attention to the wider world, but I feel it necessary to post something — anything! — to push that smirking, malevolent avatar of villainy down the page.
But if I need to fill a little space, I might as well fill it with something worthwhile. So here is a passage from Chesterton:
The madman is not he that defies the world. The saint, the criminal, the martyr, the cynic, the nihilist may all defy the world quite sanely. And even if such fanatics would destroy the world, the world owes them a strictly fair trial according to proof and public law. But the madman is not the man who defies the world; he is the man who denies it. Suppose we are all standing round a field and looking at a tree in the middle of it. It is perfectly true that we all see it (as the decadents say) in infinitely different aspects: that is not the point; the point is that we all say it is a tree. Suppose, if you will, that we are all poets, which seems improbable; so that each of us could turn his aspect into a vivid image distinct from a tree. Suppose one says it looks like a green cloud and another like a green fountain, and a third like a green dragon and the fourth like a green cheese. The fact remains: that they all say it looks like these things. It is a tree. Nor are any of the poets in the least mad because of any opinions they may form, however frenzied, about the functions or future of the tree. A conservative poet may wish to clip the tree; a revolutionary poet may wish to burn it. An optimist poet may want to make it a Christmas tree and hang candles on it. A pessimist poet may want to hang himself on it. None of these are mad, because they are all talking about the same thing. But there is another man who is talking horribly about something else. There is a monstrous exception to mankind. Why he is so we know not; a new theory says it is heredity; an older theory says it is devils. But in any case, the spirit of it is the spirit that denies, the spirit that really denies realities. This is the man who looks at the tree and does not say it looks like a lion, but says that it is a lamp”“post.
– Eugenics and Other Evils, chapter IV
Over at Kakistocracy, Porter tosses and gores one Jessica Wood, a Ph.D. student at the university of Guelph, who has written a report that arrives at the following conclusion:
“We found people in consensual, non-monogamous relationships experience the same levels of relationship satisfaction, psychological well-being and sexual satisfaction as those in monogamous relationships… This debunks societal views of monogamy as being the ideal relationship structure.’
Pause for a moment to appreciate the galactic level of adolescent self-assuredness and unreflection required to announce, from your dorm room at the University of Guelph, that you have just “debunked” monogamy. Then read Porter’s reply, here.
Here’s a good recent item by “Z-Man” on the effects of cultural and sexual rootlessness. Excerpt:
Maybe a better way of thinking about the sexual aspect of our cultural crisis is that both men and women are haunted by different specters. For instance, our women are growing increasingly deranged, not because men are wimps, but because the traditional sex roles no longer exist. This leaves them as free radicals, with the wacky fads out of feminism and gender studies, orbiting them like unpaired electrons. Put a different way, women are like bees without a hive. Without the normal social stimulants, they become erratic…
The male side of this coin features a nostalgia for a lost future. It is a form of romanticism, where men imagine a past that led to a different present. All of those decisions by prior generations, have led to a present where there is no point to being man, because there is no role for being a man. The only place where men are needed is the military, but even there, the multicultural nags are working to ruin things. It’s not a longing for the past, but a longing for a different past that resulted in a more fulfilling and meaningful present.
If you look at the various sub-groups within the Dissident Right, they are almost exclusively male. The alt-right certainly has a strong romantic streak. Their embrace of the fascist aesthetic was always based on an imaginary version of history. The PUA guys go the other way, embracing a cynical and callous view of women as nothing more than a game to be won. It is an absurd version of the alpha male. Even guys into alt-lite stuff like Patriot Prayer or the Proud Boys are trying to create a space for men to be men.
The result of all this is men and women are rocketing off in different directions, seeking something that fills the void left by traditional sex roles.
If things are a bit quiet here over the next few weeks, it’s because we have a full house — our daughter Chloe, her husband Chris, and our little grandson Liam are here from Vienna to stay with us in Wellfleet for a few weeks, and later this week they’ll be joined by our son Nick, and my mother-in-law Lily (now in her 98th year).
With all that going on, you can imagine that scribbling about the endless and insoluble problems of a tottering civilization will naturally take a back seat.
If you are as fatigued as I am by that false and flyblown “nation of immigrants” propagandum, you will read with appreciation this item, by Pedro Gonzalez, at American Greatness.
Our friend Bill Vallicella quoted this, from Michael Anton, on Independence Day:
For the founders, government has one fundamental purpose: to protect person and property from conquest, violence, theft and other dangers foreign and domestic. The secure enjoyment of life, liberty and property enables the “pursuit of happiness.’ Government cannot make us happy, but it can give us the safety we need as the condition for happiness. It does so by securing our rights, which nature grants but leaves to us to enforce, through the establishment of just government, limited in its powers and focused on its core responsibility.
Bill approves, and adds:
This is an excellent statement. Good government secures our rights; it does not grant them. Whether they come from nature, or from God, or from nature qua divine creation are further questions that can be left to the philosophers. The main thing is that our rights are not up for democratic grabs, nor are they subject to the whims of any bunch of elitists that manages to insinuate itself into power.
I agree all round. I hope that my recent engagement with Mr. Anton about the ontology of our fundamental rights did not give readers the impression that I doubt for a moment the importance of Americans believing they possess them, or of the essential obligation of government to secure them (or of the people to overthrow a government that won’t).
My concerns are whether the popular basis for this critically important belief is sustainable in an era of radical and corrosive secular doubt (and continuing assault on those rights), and whether the apparently irresistible tendency of democracy to descend into faction, mobs, and tyranny was in fact a “poison pill” baked into the nation at the time of the Founding. I am inclined to think it was, but historical contingency and inevitability are nearly impossible to parse with any certainty.
Yesterday, on the nation’s 242nd birthday, I asked if we could set strife aside for a day, and just be grateful to live in such a remarkable nation.
It occurred to me immediately after writing that line, though, that simple gratitude for the nation we have is itself a deeply conservative disposition. Joseph Sobran described it in his luminous Pensees essay as follows:
“To be happy at home,’ Johnson also remarks, “is the end of all human endeavor.’ That is a good starting-point for politics, just because it is outside politics. I often get the feeling that what is wrong with political discussion in general is that it is dominated by narrow malcontents who take their bearings not from images of health and happiness but from statistical suffering. They always seem to want to “eliminate’ something”“poverty, racism, war”“instead of settling for fostering other sorts of things it is beyond their power actually to produce.
Man doesn’t really create anything. We don’t sit godlike above the world, omniscient and omnipotent. We find ourselves created, placed somehow in the midst of things that we here before us, related to them in particular ways. If we can’t delight in our situation, we are off on the wrong foot.
More and more I find myself thinking that a conservative is someone who regards this world with a basic affection, and wants to appreciate it as it is before he goes on to the always necessary work of making some rearrangements. Richard Weaver says we have no right to reform the world unless we cherish some aspects of it; and that is the attitude of many of the best conservative thinkers. Burke says that a constitution ought to be the subject of enjoyment rather than altercation. (I wish the American Civil Liberties Union would take his words to heart.)
I find a certain music in conservative writing that I never find in that of liberals. Michael Oakeshott speaks of “affection,’ “attachment,’ “familiarity,’ “happiness’; and my point is not the inane one that these are very nice things, but that Oakeshott thinks of them as considerations pertinent to political thinking. He knows what normal life is, what normal activities are, and his first thought is that politics should not disturb them.
In light of that, then, the political “strife” I asked us to set aside is due almost entirely to the widening chasm between that “attitude of gratitude” and the insatiable dissatisfaction of the political Left. So in effect, by asking everyone to put strife aside on the Fourth and just be grateful and appreciative for the nation we live in, I was really just asking everyone to be a “conservative for a day”.
I’d have mentioned this in yesterday’s post, but it felt too much like not putting strife aside, so I didn’t.
Happy Independence Day, America. And to all of you, dear readers, as well. I hope we can set strife aside for a day to appreciate how lucky we are to live in this extraordinary country.
Here’s a peppery little post by one Anne Carter on the state of public discourse: Shrieking Monkeys.
Ms. Carter is a Southerner, and so, not having been farm-raised in the Yankee waters that our ruling classes have swum in all their lives, she is in a position to notice the moralizing and missionary zeal that has been a characteristic of our New England subpopulation’s bullying relationship with the rest of the world since its planting long ago on our Northeastern shores — a relationship that has continued, without relief to the rest of humanity, throughout that peculiar subculture’s subsequent expansion across the Midwest, victory over the Confederacy, seizure (after some strategic partnerships) of the commanding heights of American culture, and eventual conquest of Europe.
We read:
As Dr. Clyde Wilson highlights in his book The Yankee Problem, there is a segment of the American population that derives their sense of purpose from beating the sin, real or imagined, out of their fellow man.
Just so. And at last, perhaps, we’ve had just about enough.
I’ve just read a good item, by Joel Kotkin at City Journal, about a conference in Normandy on the future of Western democracy. It is appropriately gloomy, and savvy readers will catch a whiff of the Iron Law of Oligarchy in the extent to which democratic rule in Europe is anything but representative, and proceeds without much regard for “consent”.
An excerpt:
European intellectuals at Normandy focused mostly on the cultural roots of continental decline. There was much discussion about the erosion of affiliations that long bound the citizen of European nations to one another. This erosion is most notable among those whom British author David Goodhart calls the “anywheres’””cosmopolitan and largely post-national elites””who generally look down on ordinary, more rooted Europeans, or “somewheres.’ The “anywhere’ tendency is prominent in European media, which downplays coverage of Islamist agitation, as well as rapes and crime associated with refugees, since these disturb its preferred narrative of a multicultural, post-national world. Other “everywhere’ prejudices can be seen in the progressive political elites of both parties and academia. “Liberalism is stupid about culture,’ Goodhart suggests.
Many conference speakers tied these “anywhere’ values to a weakening of European identity. “The European ”˜we’ does not exist,’ suggested Manent. “We don’t know any more what we are.’ The EU, that great construct of progressive centralism, he added, “is devoid of any character. European culture is in hiding, disappearing, without a soul.’ Critical here is the precipitous decline of Christianity, the ideal that forged Europe’s premodern identity. Well over 50 percent of Europeans under 30 don’t identify with a religion; in the UK, the Muslim population could exceed Anglican Church membership within a decade.
Christianity’s decline, observed Tocqueville scholar Joshua Mitchell, represents a direct threat to European democracy. The great French writer, he reminded us, was Christian, and his descendants today remain committed to the Catholic faith. Christian values tempered the transition from aristocracy to democracy; Tocqueville saw Christianity as a constraint on the rampant individualism and materialism characteristic of democratic societies, which he had observed in the United States. Tocqueville, Mitchell suggested, “believed people have to have a culture, a place and a religion.’
Perhaps the most heated expression of demo-pessimism comes as a reaction to mass migration, notably from Islamic countries. The decision of German Chancellor Angela Merkel to open her borders to refugees from places like Syria and Afghanistan and the African continent has destabilized European sensibilities in a way not seen since the Second World War. Few speakers defended Merkel’s actions, reflecting almost three-to-one negative reaction to mass migration among Europeans.
Read the whole thing here.
Bill Vallicella weighs in on the natural-rights question we’ve been discussing, here.
We read:
The problem is that the notion of a natural right is less than perspicuous. Part of what it means to say that a right is natural is that it is not conventional. We don’t have rights to life, liberty, and property because some body of men have decided to grant them to us. We have them inherently or intrinsically. We don’t get them from the State; we have them whether or not any state exists to secure them as a good state must, or to deprive us of them as a bad state will.
Rights are logically antecedent to contingent social and political arrangements, and thus logically antecedent to the positive law (the law enacted by a legislature). One can express by saying that rights are not conventional but natural. But then ‘natural’ just means ‘not conventional.’
Suppose our rights as individual persons come not from nature but from God. Then their non-conventionality would be secured. Now it would be good if we could proceed in political philosophy without bringing God into it. But then we face the problem of explaining how norms could be ingredient in nature.
Perhaps someone can explain to me how my right not to be enslaved could be grounded in my being an animal in the material world. How could any of my rights as an individual person be grounded in my being an animal in nature? I am open for instruction.
One could just insist that rights and norms are grounded in nature herself. But that would be metaphysical bluster and not an explanation.
To put it another way, I would like someone to explain how ‘natural right’ is not a contradictio in adiecto, provided, of course, that by a natural right we mean more than a non-conventional right, but a right that is non-conventional and somehow ingredient in or grounded in nature.
And let’s never forget the obvious: as natural beings, as part of the fauna of the space-time system, we are manifestly not equal either as individuals or as groups.
So I say that if you want to uphold intrinsic and unalienable rights, rights that do not have their origin in human decisions and conventions, and if you want to uphold rights for all humans regardless of their empirical strengths and weaknesses, and the same rights for all, then you must move beyond nature to nature’s God who is the source of the personhood of each one of us human animals, and the ground of equality of persons. No God, no equality of persons and no equality of rights.
It seems clear that something like this is what the second paragraph of the Declaration means with its talk of men being CREATED equal and being ENDOWED by their CREATOR with certain unalienable rights. The rights come from above (God) and not from below (nature).
I agree completely. Rights are normative in their essence, while Nature simply is. Therefore, I see only two possibilities:
1) “Natural” rights flow from an intrinsic source of normative authority. Since brute and indifferent Nature cannot be such a source, then for such rights to exist in themselves, as opposed to being mere conventions and intuitions, requires the existence of God. They are therefore “natural” rights in virtue of our nature qua creations of a transcendent and normatively authoritative Deity.
2) There is in fact no such authoritative source, and so natural rights are nonsense. (Upon stilts.) It may be in our nature to have the intuitions we do about possessing such rights, but it is a category error to imagine that rights themselves can originate in the material world.
In answer to my Question 5 about whether there are in fact such things as natural rights, and whether they are conceivable in the absence of God, Michael Anton replied:
Also covered at length by West and me. He and I both say yes, as do the founders. If you change the terminology from “natural rights” plural (which the ancients would not have recognized) to “natural right” singular (which they surely did), then pretty much all political philosophers until late modernity did as well. Some were atheists. Some were deists. Some were believers. They all made the case for rationally knowable principles of justice which do not require, but are consistent with, recourse to God.
It’s the “do not require” part that troubles me. I can easily see that we can posit the existence of such rights simply by stipulating them, but if that is their only basis they lay no claim to objective existence, and are nothing more than conventions based on moral intuitions. How can it be otherwise?
I’ve just re-read the relevant passages of Mr. Anton’s review, and they contain an interesting move: We read:
Men in the state of nature — that is, without government, whether understood as a pre-political state or one following the dissolution of a political order — while free, are thus at grave risk of injury and depredation. Such afflictions are not merely bad for individual men, they violate a moral standard which nature provides but leaves to man to enforce. Moreover, in the state of nature, men cannot utilize to their full potential those talents God and nature have given them.
Here we see a reference to “a moral standard which nature provides”. How?
Next we see this:
…men’s rights remain the gift of God and nature, not of government…
OK, now it’s God and nature. A little further on:
Moreover, the same “Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God” that endow men with inalienable natural rights similarly entitle the nations of the world to a “separate and equal station” with respect to other nations.
“Nature and of Nature’s God”. But which came first? Clearly if God exists, and created Nature, then the ultimate source of innate rights is not Nature, but God.
Now we begin to palm the card:
West shows that the founders, far from being hostile to or dismissive of religion, tradition, and other non-rational sources of guidance for human life, saw these things as not only broadly useful for political society but fully compatible with natural rights and absolutely indispensable to a political order based thereon. In the founders’ view, it is reasonable that the God who both revealed the Decalogue and is author of the natural world created that world with natural moral principles that accord with His law. The alternative — moral commands with no basis in, or that contradict, nature — seemed to the founders profoundly irrational and implausible.
Here we begin to see a reversal of priority. God is now not the necessary foundation of natural rights; it is merely “reasonable” to think that belief in God is “compatible” with them, and indispensable to a practical political order. The alternative is now described as moral commands that contradict not God, but nature.
At last, there’s this:
But the founders also agreed that religions and traditional sources of human guidance should not be authoritative for politics. In Europe, resting political legitimacy on religion led, first, to a millennium of oligarchic stagnation and, later, to bloody religious wars. Any attempt to do so in America would also crash into the many deeply held religious convictions on the new continent. Whose understanding of God would rule? Better to ground politics in a reasoned account of human nature that admits man’s inability to know the mind of God and respects each person’s equal natural right to follow his own conscience in matters of worship. Similarly, traditions not infringing on the equal natural rights of others were to be tolerated, and even celebrated. Under the new “form”, men would be freer to live as men than ever before in human history.
Now the move is complete. Did you keep your eye on the little ball? We’ve gone from God as the Creator of Nature, and of us, and of our rights, to a sort of equal partnership of “nature and nature’s God”, to a “reasoned account” of natural rights that has severed itself from any dependence upon particular ideas of God, or indeed upon any belief in God at all. And that’s how we get to a concept of “natural” rights — which, I must emphasize again, are irreducibly normative — that is supposed to work, as Mr. Anton explained above, even for atheists!
Upon this rock we have built the United States. But the truth, I think (and I am sure that Jefferson and Adams and Madison would agree) is that without religion — without a transcendent foundation for the rights so reverberantly declared in Philadelphia two hundred and forty-two years ago this week — it is actually built upon sand. (Hence the language in the Declaration, which explicitly keeps God in the picture.) What I want to know is this: given the relentless skepsis that was an essential feature of the Enlightenment and the Age of Reason, was the Founding — itself a product of a transitional period in that ongoing cultural, intellectual, and doxastic evolution — doomed, ultimately, to pass away in a far-off era of radical secularism?
Not necessarily, perhaps: we can simply stipulate that natural rights are real, and proceed accordingly; how many people, after all, are likely to examine their roots, especially in a time when we hear every day of new and hitherto unimagined, positive rights? Must our rights really rest upon ontological bedrock, or are our intuitions and conventions enough, so long as we don’t look too closely? Mr. Anton takes another look:
The central question of political philosophy — perhaps of philosophy itself — is: do right and wrong, good and evil, exist by nature? Put another way: does nature offer us any guidance on how to live well? To answer “no” is either to limit oneself to recourse to God — and God alone — or else to accept a blackness at the heart of human things. Tradition offers no solace, as traditions may be good or bad, and merely asking which of the two a particular tradition is presupposes God or natural right. Recourse to God is necessary, as we shall see, but one wonders what is so unacceptable about the founders’ argument for a fundamental compatibility between His law and His nature. Similarly, one might ask of the traditionalists: what could be so bad about a body of American ideas that, even if you dispute their truth, are unquestionably our own? And isn’t that, for traditionalism, the highest source of guidance? So how could those ideas be, in the final analysis, untrue for us?
Few have the courage or “probity” (in Straussian terms) to face the other alternative squarely but instead settle for what Allan Bloom stingingly termed “nihilism with a happy ending.” We may thank God for this widespread incoherence and hypocrisy, since living amid a Nietzschean hoi polloi would be at best inconvenient.
But surely a better alternative would be to understand the true grounding of our rights and duties. Is that possible?
One problem in establishing a regime based on reason is that, even among the finest “matter”, reason does not always prevail. How then to fix in the public mind a firm and accurate conviction of the ground of men’s rights and duties? In the book’s other primarily philosophic passage, West analyzes the founders’ three core arguments for the existence of natural right: God, the “moral sense” or conscience, and the “natural fitness of things.” The first two of their arguments West finds rationally unsatisfying. That is, not necessarily untrue, but not amenable to rational validation on their own terms. Reasoning according to Aristotle’s dictum that we should “seek out precision in each genus to the extent that the nature of the matter allows,’ West finds the third fully rational yet too abstract to command mass assent. In words of Machiavelli of which the Florentine’s great admirer John Adams might have approved, “a prudent individual knows many goods that do not have in themselves evident reasons with which one can persuade others.’ Recourse to God and the conscience is necessary, even if rationally unsatisfying to the philosopher. But then the philosopher is satisfied by nature alone; it’s everyone else we need to worry about. The founders in any case made all three arguments with apparent conviction.
“But then the philosopher is satisfied by nature alone.”
Is he? I know at least one who isn’t.
The title, of course, is a reference to the oft-heard quip that there are three branches of government in the contemporary United States: the Executive Branch, The Legislative Branch, and Anthony Kennedy.
Justice Kennedy has announced that he is retiring. This is huge news, and a wonderful opportunity.
May RBG be next, and soon.
Update:
Senator Schumer honks that to replace Justice Kennedy before the midterms would be “the height of hypocrisy”.
Not at all! He’s just looking for consistency in the wrong place. The consistent principle is this: when you have power, you must use it. Or lose it.
This, I am very sure, Mr. Schumer understands.
Two posts ago we read Michael Anton’s emailed reply to a collection of questions I’d posted in Part 1 of this series.
I mailed back a response, and received another reply in return. (There the correspondence stands, for the moment, as I’ve been traveling and working the past couple of days. I’d also like to re-read Mr. Anton’s original review of the Thomas West book before continuing.
Below are some excerpts of my reply, and then of Mr. Anton’s response to it.
Over the past several years I’ve taken a deepening interest in the Founding, the men involved, and the history of the different cultures settled in America in the centuries leading up to the Civil War; my interest at first has been to trace the origins of 21st-century-style “liberalism” from early Massachusetts, though the expansion across the Upper Midwest, the Great Awakenings, and a gradual evolution though various moral missions of different eras into what I now regard as a national, secular cryptoreligion. Of late, though, I am more and more interested in the Founding itself; I’ve just finished reading the complete Adams-Jefferson correspondence, and am looking forward to reading Professor West’s book…
I have also taken an interest in the history of slavery, and in the interest of a breadth of perspectives, recently read Robert Dabney’s Defense of Virginia, and am halfway through Ulrich Bonnell Phillips’s American Negro Slavery, written in 1913. Both of these raise questions about equality and justice that I am sure Jefferson et al. grappled with.
Another book that has been influential for me is Henry Sumner Maine’s Popular Government, which (as quoted here) argues that a relentless expansion of suffrage is an ineliminable consequence of the dynamics of power in democratic systems — and so:
“…the signs of our times are not at all of favourable augury for the future direction of great multitudes by statesmen wiser than themselves. ”¦ The leaders may be as able and eloquent as ever, and some of them certainly seem to have an unprecedentedly ‘good hold upon commonplaces, and a facility in applying them’; but they are manifestly listening nervously at one end of a speaking-tube which receives at its other end the suggestions of a lower intelligence.”
I think there is good reason to imagine that the near-total transformation of what the Founders created into something that would be utterly unrecognizable to them may have been all along an inherent and unavoidable liability; this question is why I am so interested to read Professor West’s book.
Regarding 1), then: how is the idea of equality of rights commensurable with involuntary slavery, unless the natural inequality of the African in the civilized West — and nobody of the era would have imagined that such inequality of capacity and dispositions was not glaringly obvious — meant that such rights simply entitled a person to live in such station, or under such subordination, as Nature had fitted him for?
As for 2), I have been influenced here by Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn’s Liberty or Equality, in which he wrote that:
“Nature’ (i.e., the absence of human intervention) is anything but egalitarian; if we want to establish a complete plain we have to blast the mountains away and fill the valleys; equality thus presupposes the continuous intervention of force which, as a principle, is opposed to freedom. Liberty and equality are in essence contradictory.”
Likewise, Will Durant:
“Nature smiles at the union of freedom and equality in our utopias. For freedom and equality are sworn and everlasting enemies, and when one prevails the other dies. Leave men free, and their natural inequalities will multiply almost geometrically, as in England and America in the nineteenth century under laissez-faire. To check the growth of inequality, liberty must be sacrificed, as in Russia after 1917. Even when repressed, inequality grows; only the man who is below the average in economic ability desires equality; those who are conscious of superior ability desire freedom; and in the end superior ability has its way. Utopias of equality are biologically doomed, and the best that the amiable philosopher can hope for is an approximate equality of legal justice and educational opportunity.”
So – equality under the law, then. But is the man of intelligence and foresight, who grasps the law in its subtlety, and knows how to thrive and prosper in it, not naturally more free than the one who, in ignorance and impulsive unwisdom, collides with it at every turn? Does not the mere fact of his perspicacity give him more “degrees of freedom”? I think this is what Jacques was getting at. You make a distinction between caring for the incapable and ruling them; but might it not be that what is most just for the less capable is to buffer their freedom against hazards that they do not even see, and could not avoid if they did? Do we know that this is not how men like Jefferson and Washington squared their ownership of the labor of other men with their sense of rights and justice? That is what complicates 3) for me.
Regarding 4), we can see all around us that the idea of general “consent”, or the Rousseauian notion of a “general will”, is falling to pieces. I live in the “belly of the beast”: Brooklyn, New York, and Wellfleet, MA, and most of the people I know around here would say that they did not “consent” to being ruled by Donald Trump, despite his being elected according to the usual Constitutional process. Indeed, nobody raised in the United States ever gave their consent to any of it; it was just handed to them, willy-nilly.
It seems to me that sovereignty implies power, in particular the capacity to originate and compel policy, laws, and dynamic action. The masses in a democracy have none of that; at best they can choose among a handful of pretenders. Hillary Clinton vs. Donald Trump??? That shabby choice is, as of 2106, the means by which “the people” are sovereign? Meanwhile, the unelected managerial Leviathan rumbles on, accountable to nobody. Where’s my consent there?
The question, again, is: might all this, under the extraordinary system given us by the genius of the Founders, been avoided? I am not sure that it might have been. That is not to say that the Founders could have done any better; I agree with you that the Founding was perhaps the greatest act of political genius in human history, and I cannot offer any constructive criticism. They attempted an act of creation wholly unexampled in all of history, and what they created was an incandescent success. For a time.
Regarding natural rights: how can rights “come from nature”? How does indifferent Nature, which simply is, give us any such “oughts”, other than by mere intuition?
As for inalienability, I understand it in the Stoic’s narrow and practical sense that there simply is no way for anyone to seize control of my inner state; it is simply unreachable by any external power, if I will it so. I realize also that if I am murdered, one can say that my right to life has not been alienated, but violated. But I am equally dead in either case, and this tempts me to agree with Bentham that the idea of natural, inalienable rights is “nonsense upon stilts”. I would like it to be otherwise — very much so — but it is hard for me to see, in the absence of something transcending mere Nature to hang them on, how rights are anything but conventions.
Michael Anton replied:
Equality of rights is not compatible with slavery. There is a flat contradiction there, which the founders recognized. Slavery was for them simply a fact, a given that they had to deal with. It predated the Revolution by 150 years. No one was thinking about equality or liberty or separation from Britain when they starting bringing slaves in the 1610s. When the founders sought a true basis for justice and legitimacy and concluded that equality was it, they knew it contradicted slavery. But they didn’t have the political power to abolish slavery at that moment. So they faced a dilemma from which there was no easy exit. Had they insisted on immediate abolition then (a) they would have killed the Revolution by disuniting the country and (b) would not have achieved abolition anyway because they lacked the power. The most likely outcome would have been a separation into northern and southern blocks, with the southern block uniting with Canada (or what is now Canada) and Britain to re-subdue the North. In other words, a Civil War, but earlier, and won by the slave power.
Regarding the evident inequality of capacity at that time, many Founders discussed it. None thought that it meant blacks lacked equal natural rights. Here is a classic statement on that theme:
Be assured that no person living wishes more sincerely than I do, to see a complete refutation of the doubts I have myself entertained and expressed on the grade of understanding allotted to [black slaves] by nature, and to find that in this respect they are on a par with ourselves. My doubts were the result of personal observation on the limited sphere of my own State, where the opportunities for the development of their genius were not favorable, and those of exercising it still less so. I expressed them therefore with great hesitation; but whatever be their degree of talent it is no measure of their rights. Because Sir Isaac Newton was superior to others in understanding, he was not therefore lord of the person or property of others.
The founders knew slavery was wrong. But (a) they had no power to get rid of it quickly and (b) they feared that if they did, they would be subject to retribution. West makes this point. There is a natural right for the slave to be free, but also a natural right to life for all person. If a likely outcome of manumission is violence, then two natural rights conflict. It’s not always easy to know what the right thing to do is in such situations. The modern liberal would dismiss this concern out of hand but the founders did not.
The founders did everything they could to restrict slavery in the hope and expectation that it would go away within a few decades. Most northern states abolished it (it was legal in all 13 in 1776). They severely limited the slave trade and gave Congress the power to abolish it after 20 years, which Congress did immediately.
Re: (2), the founders’ conception of nature does not require any kind of levelling. There is no contradiction, unless one assumes or insists that “equality’ means equal outcomes, which it manifestly did not for the founders. And should not for us today.
Yes, inequalities will result. What’s the alternative? Neither Durant nor von Kuehnelt-Leddihn suggest a way to create a state based on inequality that will be (a) in accord with nature and (b) accepted by its members. Durant hints that the meaner sorts will always desire equality. That’s part of my point. No man CONSENTS to, or welcomes, a state-sanctioned inferiority. It must be imposed. Decades of oppression may lead to a kind of resignation, as in the lower orders of Old Europe. But we also saw that it’s impossible to keep the lid on forever. If it were “natural’ in the sense that these two appear to mean (“the absence of human intervention’), then an unequal natural order would just sprout from the land organically and be accepted by all, or at least by most, whereas manifestly it does not.
Whenever I hear someone (and one does hear it more and more from the “dissident right’) insist that there is a natural order of rank among men, I have the same reaction that Plato and Aristotle recommended regarding the man who claims to be wise so that he can rule: fraud! None of those making the assertion can ever point out how we can easily recognize our supposed superiors. They can give examples of people we can agree were superior in talent, but even that is problematic since often those talents go unrecognized or denied during that person’s lifetime, and when those talents are needed most. If this alleged “natural order of rank’ is to be our guide for a new politics, we have a serious problem, because no one can beyond those making the assertion have the ability to tell natural rulers from naturally ruled and the latter are going to resist being ruled. That’s part of their nature. Which calls into question the alleged “naturalness’ of the whole idea.
As for class conflict, isn’t the founders’ solution the best that can be done? What breeds lower class resentment is the sense of a rigged system. In old Europe, the most talented among the lower orders were stuck there and losers in the upper retained wealth and privilege. The latter is less a problem than the former. The founders’ system addressed the former problem quite effectively, which is why we had so little class conflict here as opposed to Europe. Now we again have a rigged game but it is owing to departure from the founding principles.
Durant’s quote, for all its breathless overstatement, ends in the same place as the founders.
Washington and Jefferson did not rationalize their ownership of slaves. Keep in mind first that both inherited their slaves, they didn’t seek them. Washington, the more prudent man, prepared throughout his life to free his slaves at great expense to himself, which he did. Jefferson, a self-indulgent spendthrift, died in debt and so could not do that. But he knew that slavery was wrong.
The founders’ consent is totally different from the General Will but that’s for another day. Suffice it to say for now that we all consent by remaining a part of the social compact. The old saw “If X wins, I’m moving to Canada’ is actually a statement of the founders’ idea of consent. If your government becomes intolerable to you, you can withdraw your consent by emigrating, which you have a natural right to do. Not that you have a natural right to go anywhere. The country you want to go to must accept you into their compact, which they are under no obligation to do. But you have a natural right to leave. The people who say they didn’t consent to Trump are wrong. They consent by staying.
I agree with you that the people did not consent to the administrative state, which is a very large problem. Trump’s election is in part a reaction to that. It maybe that the administrative state is by this point too powerful to tame. But we ought to at least try. The alternatives are all bad.
As for how rights come from nature, that’s explained in depth by West and in my review. I don’t really have anything to add.
There is much to delve into here: the notion of “exit” as an alternative to consent (which, for people living ordinary lives under political systems, is often the only way one can make “consent” seem to be any sort of actual choice, but is for most people not really an option); how it can be possible that brute nature is the sort of thing that can create and bestow something as abstract as rights (note that Jefferson explicitly declared those rights to be endowed not by Nature, but by the Creator); the existence of natural hierarchies and classes; how to parse the distinction between the establishment of Jefferson’s “natural aristoi” as rulers and the idea of there being those who are, by nature, “booted and spurred” to rule; how a slave-owner legitimately claims the authority to arbitrate for another person the “collision between two natural rights”, and so on. I will take these up in later posts.
Our commenter Jacques has replied, in an email to me, to Michael Anton’s response (published in our previous post). I am posting it below.
Michael Anton (on the question of “natural rulers”): “One can raise all sorts of objections to this. For instance, if Trump is such a natural ruler, why did he lose the popular vote by three million votes?”
Jacques replies:This objection would be a dialectical mistake. Anton is claiming that nature hasn’t divided the species into rulers and ruled. He offered little evidence for this non-obvious claim, and so it is fair to merely note that, in fact, it appears that some people are naturally suited to ruling and that some are naturally suited to being ruled. And it does appear that way to many people, I think. When people are left to their own devices, they don’t typically organize themselves in an egalitarian or democratic fashion. Think of families, gangs and tribes and sports teams or rock bands. On Flight 93 it would have seemed to everyone that some people were acting as leaders and others were not. I guess one could argue that it does not appear to people that only some are natural rulers or leaders, but that gets us into some pretty subtle questions. Prima facie there seems to be no strong reason for accepting the claim that there is no natural hierarchy rather than the claim that there is one. (I am not insisting that there is one, by the way!)
In any case the issue of the popular vote seems like a red herring. Maybe this just shows that the masses may disagree about which individual is best suited to rule — Hilary or Donald. The disagreement is consistent with the hypothesis that only some sub-set of the population appears to them to be suited to that task, either naturally or non-naturally. I’d expect that most people who voted for Clinton also had the impression that Trump was far better (naturally) suited to rule than some other people, even if they also believed that Clinton was better suited (and even naturally better suited) than Trump.
But in any case why does it matter what the average voter thinks? The real question we each have to ask ourselves is what we think. I would be surprised if Anton could really maintain that he had never met some people who seemed to him to be naturally badly equipped for a leadership position, or at least far less well equipped naturally than others. In fact his main argument on this point is weak. He says that no one has ever consented to slavery. But then, as he points out, the ancients reasonably believed that only the wise could discern wisdom. So it could well be that many people don’t accept a position of slavery or servitude precisely because they are foolish and vicious; the mere fact that they don’t want that role is simply irrelevant unless we are all already assuming that everyone is equally wise and capable of sound judgment as to their own proper station in life. But of course that would beg the question in this context…
MA: “Then [J] compares slavery to being ruled. That is just silly. We are all ruled, especially in a rights-based republic…”
J: But it’s not silly at all! It touches on a profound question that modern theorists don’t like to investigate. What is slavery exactly? What are the special features of this particular kind of subordination or social inferiority or lack of autonomy that distinguish it from all the other kinds that everyone takes to be normal and acceptable? It’s actually pretty hard to answer these questions. Those we call ‘slaves’ are ruled in all kinds of ways, and in many ways they are less free or autonomous than someone like me. But then people working in a sweatshop or born into a community of multi-generational welfare dependency and illiteracy and poverty are also much less free and autonomous than someone like me, and all kinds of basic capacities and options and powers that I take for granted are impossible for them. And of course, my own life is very significantly shaped and determined by the decisions of rich and powerful people that I can’t remove from power; in most cases I can’t even get them on the phone. What we call ‘slavery’ is really just one vaguely defined range of human situations on a spectrum. So it makes sense to compare ‘slavery’ to other ways of being non-consensually ruled, controlled, constrained, directed, obligated… The comparisons are useful because they help us to step outside the familiar but false ways of thought encoded in mainstream political theory. For example the idea that “we consent to rule in order to accomplish things as a political community”. As you point out in your reply to Anton, this is mostly a fantasy. Americans don’t consent to the US Constitution or the decisions of Supreme Court judges, or the whims of the donors who run the parties, or the people who pay for the mass media, etc. There is no real consent, no real “community”. We are slave-like, in many ways, and the slaves were citizen-like, in many ways. At least it’s not obvious to me that there is a strict principled distinction between all the situations we describe as ‘slavery’ the other ones–or, in particular, the one we describe as ‘a rights-based republic’ or ‘democracy’ or ‘self-government’.
MA (on liberty and consent): “Your commenter Jacques objects to this, saying that ‘the highly intelligent, for example, are naturally more free and independent in many key respects than people who are borderline retarded.’ That’s just an assertion, he doesn’t say why, how, or in what way. In any case, for the founders “equally free and independent’ is a claim to moral status, to justice. The highly intelligent does not have a natural right to rule the borderline retarded. If Jacques thinks that is wrong, and there is such a natural right, he should explain how and from what it is derived, just the founders explain where they think the natural rights they cite come from.”
J (bold type added by MP): But the assertion is plausible if “freedom” and “independence” are understood in ordinary ways. For example, if freedom means being in a position to effectively pursue one’s aims, traits like high intelligence, stamina, foresight, charisma strength and resilience will tend to greatly enhance freedom. Of course there is no specific list of traits, but it’s plausible that certain personalities are far better situated to effectively pursue their aims than others–and that many of these differences are natural. If freedom does not mean what I take it to mean here, we should ask what exactly it means. Similar points seem to hold for “independence”. I’d suggest that given these plausible reflections, the onus is on the egalitarian to clarify and defend the idea that all are naturally equal with respect to freedom and equality.
The highly intelligent may not have a natural right to rule over the borderline retarded (or a natural duty to care for such people). I don’t know, as I doubt the existence of natural rights and the coherence of the concept. But I would say that if there are natural rights, it would make sense that people who are apparently naturally suited for leadership should be leaders and people whose natural capacities appear to suit them for subordinate roles in public life should have subordinate roles. Again, the burden of proof seems to lie with the egalitarian: demonstrate that there are natural rights, and that there are no natural rights to rule over others grounded in natural capacities and dispositions…
Next up: my emailed reply to Mr. Anton, and his response to me. Again I would like to thank Mr. Anton, who is certainly a busy man these days, for taking the time to engage with us on these important topics.
My last two posts (here and here) were in response to an extensive review, by Michael Anton, of Thomas West’s new book on the American Founding, and to a comment by our reader Jacques.
In Saturday’s post I laid out some questions that I thought the review, and Jacques’ comment, had raised. I did not answer any of them, although of course I have thought about them for quite a while now, and am settled in varying degrees about what the answers to them ought to be. That post was intended as a preamble to a closer look at each of them in days and weeks ahead.
I was very pleasantly surprised on Sunday evening to find a substantial email from Michael Anton, responding to Saturday’s post. Having obtained Mr. Anton’s permission to publish it here, I will do so below.
Since receiving this I have replied to Mr. Anton’s email in some detail, and have received another reply in turn. I have, however, been traveling all day today, and will need more time to organize it all, to post excerpts from my reply and his, and to explore some particularly difficult questions more deeply. I am grateful to Mr. Anton for taking the time to open the conversation.
Here is his initial note to me. I present it, for now, without any comments of my own.
I think your questions are mostly answered in West’s book, in my review, and in my follow-up responding to a reader question. But since — as I also said — important points require frequent restatement, I shall try again.
West surely covers (1) exhaustively, as — I thought — did I. So I am not going to go on at great length here. Equality to the founders meant equality of rights. All men are born with equal natural rights, which include but are not limited to the rights specified in the Declaration. Men are manifestly not equal in talent, wisdom, virtue, strength, or a host of other traits. A regime that secures equal natural rights will allow these naturally unequal traits to flourish in ways that lead to inequality of outcomes. Equality fundamentally means that there are no natural rulers and no natural slaves, or natural “ruled.’ All actual aristocracies are inherently conventional, not natural.
The key here is to establish a just basis for government, a true claim to legitimacy. At the peaks, political theory posits only two such claims. For the ancients, the only just claim to rule is wisdom and virtue (and in the final analysis, according to the classics, wisdom is virtue, and vice versa). For the moderns, or at least for the moderns before they go completely off the rails, the only just claim is consent.
These two ideas sound contradictory but are actually closer to one another than they first appear. The initial reaction of the ancients to the modern claim would be to object that non-wisdom cannot give meaningful consent to wisdom. Wisdom knows what is best while non-wisdom does not. Therefore non-wisdom must submit to wisdom. But the ancients also know that this is not easy to accomplish. Non-wisdom does not readily submit to wisdom, and wisdom does not want to rule. Wisdom (the philosopher) prefers to philosophizing to ruling and so must be forced to rule by non-wisdom, which has no interest in forcing wisdom to rule because it does not want to be ruled. To further complicate things, only the wise truly know what wisdom is and who is wise. But the wise lack the power to make this widely known. The unwise cannot recognize wisdom and cannot be made to see when, where and in whom wisdom is genuine. So we have the paradox of two mutually incompatible, even antagonistic, camps mutually forcing the other to do something neither side wants done.
Another — perhaps the most important — problem with wisdom as a claim to rule is that many who are not wise but who want to rule will claim to be wise in order to rule. In fact, the classics all but assert that anyone who claims to be wise in order to rule is ipso facto not wise. The claim itself is proof of non-wisdom, and of fraud.
As a practical matter, then, the ancients know that wisdom’s title to rule — which is theoretically the soundest and most just claim — is all but impossible to implement. The classical “best regime” that is meant to be practicable is an attempt to steer as much wisdom as possible into government in the absence of direct rule of the wise. It does so through a variety of means which Aristotle explains in the Politics, for instance. Above all, through equality before the law.
The failure of wisdom as a title to rule in any practical way points to the necessity of consent, which the ancients do not make explicit but the moderns do. There are many reasons for this explicit change, and I am not sure I understand them all, but the most important is the complete change in the Western world wrought by the Roman conquest of the ancient world and the advent of Christianity.
The American founders use language very similar to the classical argument for wisdom’s title to rule when they say that a perfect being — God or an angel — could rule men without consent but no actual man is a perfect being (even the best men are a mixture of reason and passion), and so consent is always required.
Your commenter Jacques objects to this, saying that “the highly intelligent, for example, are naturally more free and independent in many key respects than people who are borderline retarded.’ That’s just an assertion, he doesn’t say why, how, or in what way. In any case, for the founders “equally free and independent” is a claim to moral status, to justice. The highly intelligent does not have a natural right to rule the borderline retarded. If Jacques thinks that is wrong, and there is such a natural right, he should explain how and from what it is derived, just the founders explain where they think the natural rights they cite come from.
The “borderline retarded” person he invokes sounds something like Aristotle’s “natural slave” (a person who cannot take care of himself) but for Aristotle there is less a natural right to rule such a person than a moral obligation to care for that person. Even Nietzsche, arguably the greatest philosopher of inequality, does not ground his argument in favor of inequality in any natural right. He admits frankly that it must be willed because there is no natural right.
I also find this to be completely unpersuasive in rebutting the founders’ argument: “Trump or Hitler or Napoleon seem far more naturally suited to ruling and leading than some other people I’ve met.” This is meant to refute the claim that nature does not delineate the natural rulers and the natural ruled. One can raise all sorts of objections to this. For instance, if Trump is such a natural ruler, why did he lose the popular vote by three million votes? That’s not a criticism of Trump but an acknowledgement that lots of people did not recognize his superiority and did not want to submit to his rule. This is a problem that all leaders face. Tyrants, such as Hitler and Napoleon, address it with oppression and suppression. Which they may be very good at, I acknowledge. Is Jacques saying that a talent for tyranny is a title to rule?
Certainly it is true that some are more talented at ruling than others. But this does not give them a right to rule without others’ consent. It does mean that those societies tend to be the most successful that steer the wise and virtuous into government. As Jefferson put it, “May we not even say that that form of government is the best which provides the most effectually for a pure selection of these natural aristoi into the offices of government?” (Read that whole letter. He is very clear that what passes for aristocracy in Europe is anything but. This is a problem with making virtue the title to rule without consent. The non-virtuous will abuse the claim for their own ends.)
Jacques waves aside the argument that there are no natural slaves but does not provide any counter argument or evidence. If they exist, who are they? How does nature delineate them? Why is that this delineation seems to be hidden from the great mass of mankind, including the alleged slaves themselves? He says that people often consent to slavery. Really? Who? When? Where? Then he compares slavery to being ruled. That is just silly. We are all ruled, especially in a rights-based republic. Even presidents leave office and become private citizens again. We consent to rule in order to accomplish things together as political community that we could not do, or not do well, by ourselves. Accepting and obeying the law or following a leader is not slavery.
That is what the founders meant by equality. In the narrower sense they meant: they are no natural kings or rulers. All men are equally free from the just rule of others without their consent. Of course the founders knew that men are ruled without their consent all the time. That is, they argued, the predominant situation of mankind most of the time. But it is not just. They were founding a new government which they intended to rest on just principles. That’s the broader sense for what equality meant for them. Not just “we’re not going to do things the way Europe did them.’ It also means, “the foundations of our political order will be rested on a true understanding of nature.’
As for (2), this is also covered in the book and in my review. No, they are not antagonistic. Equality demands liberty, both in the individual sense and in the national sense. Our equal natural rights limit this just powers of government. Government exists to secure rights. It should be limited to doing that and that alone. Of course we’re way beyond that now, but that was the founders’ view. Government secures our rights so that we may utilize our natural liberty as we see fit, consistent with the moral law. Jefferson again: “in the state of nature, men are inherently independent of all but the moral law.” Which is to say, freedom is unlimited. Men are free to live as they choose but always bound by morality, which is natural. This is an idea fully consistent with classical thought.
At the societal level the people form a social compact, then a government, to secure their own rights but not those of any other people. That people, once established, is a free nation independent of any other. It may not be justly ruled by other nations nor may it justly rule other nations (except perhaps in some kind of national emergency).
As for (3), I am not sure what you are asking, but my quick answer is no. Why would it? Do you mean that those of lesser ability within the same society ought to have less liberty than those with greater? According to the founders, no. We are all equal before the positive law and subject to the same moral law. Keep in mind though that the founders did not have the same broad conception of modern liberty as do today’s liberals. So for instance the last two of FDR’s “four freedoms” they would not have recognized as freedoms or rights at all. So it’s possible that what you’re getting add would be consistent with the founders’ views. A lot of the stuff that we today insist is essential to liberty, they would have denied has anything to do with liberty.
(4) Why isn’t it? We all consent as members of the social compact. We consent with one another, not with any outside power. The act of forming the social compact through consent it what establishes sovereignty. The compact forms us as a people, distinct from other peoples. As the Declaration say, we stand in relation to other nations in a “separate and equal station.” They don’t rule us and we don’t rule them. The founders would have found absurd the notion of transnational bodies such as the EU or UN eroding sovereignty. When we need to make international commitments in the national interest, we do so by treaty. Period.
(5) Also covered at length by West and me. He and I both say yes, as do the founders. If you change the terminology from “natural rights” plural (which the ancients would not have recognized) to “natural right” singular (which they surely did), then pretty much all political philosophers until late modernity did as well. Some were atheists. Some were deists. Some were believers. They all made the case for rationally knowable principles of justice which do not require, but are consistent with, recourse to God.
(6) It means that those rights come from nature and are not the grant of government. We establish government to secure natural rights which belong to us by nature. Government cannot justly take them away. We have to surrender a portion of our rights for government to work but that surrender is conditional. If government fails or becomes oppressive, we can remove from government the power to curtail our natural rights. The right of revolution is inherent. It is always available as a recourse against tyranny.
(7) I tried to give some reasons here.
(8) I think what the [founders] accomplished was one of, if not the, greatest achievements in political history. I don’t know how they could have done better. The headwinds that we are facing are pummeling the entire West. Even of the founders had established an entirely different regime, I think we would still be facing those headwinds.
(9) I ask myself — and others — that every day!
In my previous post I linked to a review, by Michael Anton, of a new book on the American Founding by Thomas G. West of Hillsdale College. I have a keen interest in the Founding, and in particular I am, like nearly everyone in the “neoreactionary” community, dogged by the question of just where things went off the rails in the West.
Central to that question is this one: is the decay we see all around us in the early 21st century a result of the principles the American system was built upon, or did it occur in spite of them?
Every social system sturdy enough to achieve maturity faces this question when it reaches, sooner or later, a crisis of doubt and exhaustion. When this happens, there will always arise two factions in bitter opposition. One believes that the problem lies in laxity and infidelity regarding founding principles; the other calls into question the principles themselves. One side will argue that radical change has been foolish and destructive, and will call for a doubling down on original principles; the other will say that those principles are (at best) obsolete, and that the only way out is to double down on change itself. The pattern has repeated itself throughout history in nearly every complex human system, whether political, social, or religious — and in these last years it has brought the United States to the brink of civil war.
In the United States of 2018, the debate is almost entirely between a Left faction that calls for radical and accelerating change, and a Right that seeks a return to strict Constitutionalism, States’ rights, meritocracy, border control, diminution of Federal power, demographic stability, and individual liberty — in general, what today’s academic jargon would call a “re-centering” of the philosophy of the Founders. Listen to any of the prominent voices on the Right — whether it’s the Claremont or Hoover Institutes, or National Review, or Thomas Sowell, or the late Charles Krauthammer, or media personalities like Mark Levin or Rush Limbaugh — and what you will hear is that the nation’s problem is that it has lost touch with the Enlightenment principles enshrined in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence; with the philosophy of Locke and Hume and Montesquieu and Jefferson and Franklin and Madison.
Out here in the remote fastnesses of neoreaction, however, the question goes deeper: Was the Founding itself a wrong turn? Were the axioms and premises behind the architecture of the United States sufficiently flawed as to doom the whole enterprise ab ovo?
For the dominant faction of the contemporary American Right, the answer is simply No, and that’s that. We have strayed, and all of the nation’s contemporary ills are the result.
For the radical Left, the answer is a resounding Yes; indeed the mere fact that the nation was designed by white men, some of whom were slave-owners, is enough to taint the whole thing beyond any hope of redemption. It all has to go, root and branch.
The question is also an open one, though, for those of us to the right of the Right. Clearly we have strayed from the Founding, a very long way indeed, with many injurious consequences. But was this inevitable? Is it irreversible? What is the way forward? (What, exactly, do we want, anyway?) Look at the Declaration of Independence, which has been, up until my time at least, the American equivalent of Scripture. It is a stirring document, but it is also an article of revolutionary propaganda, arguably containing many testimonial falsehoods. More to the point, though, its preamble, which has reverberated throughout the history of the American nation, declares as “self-evident” a set of propositions that a rational observer could not only call into question, but believe to be self-evidently false. Upon how solid a philosophical foundation, then, was the American nation actually erected? These questions give me little rest.
Our commenter Jacques is troubled by them as well. In a reply to my post, he wrote:
Unfortunately there is the same old unthinking assertion of “equality’. We’re told that everyone is “naturally’ equally “free and independent’. Well, if those concepts have any real content it’s just not true. The highly intelligent, for example, are naturally more free and independent in many key respects than people who are borderline retarded. And if it’s not about any ordinary notions of freedom and independence, it’s not clear what it means. Probably nothing but it sounds nice.
As evidence, I guess, we’re told that nature has not “delineated’ some humans as “natural rulers’ and others as “natural workers or slaves’. Really? It sure seems that way if you allow yourself to admit what you actually observe. I’d say Trump or Hitler or Napoleon seem far more naturally suited to ruling and leading than some other people I’ve met. Men generally seem to be natural leaders, and women seem to be generally naturally inclined to follow men. He then says we can confirm this by noting that “no man ever consents to slavery’. But, first, it seems that often men have consented to it; second, slavery is not the only kind of “work’ or subordination to another person. (If this point is meant to rebut the idea that there is a natural hierarchy, it’s a straw man or equivocation.) Lots of people seem quite happy to fall in line and obey some charismatic guru or boss or dictator or priest or psychiatrist or”¦ These arguments are paper-thin.
The upshot is supposed to be that “No man may therefore justly rule any other without that other’s consent’. But what does that even mean? How can I consent to be ruled by you? Once consent is given, and you’re in charge, presumably at that point I don’t get to be in charge anymore. If the consent has to be ongoing, that would seem to require that you’re not really ruling over me”“I always have a veto. But if it doesn’t have to be ongoing, what does it matter whether way back when it was initially given? If it’s legitimate for you to _now_ decide for me, even if I don’t agree or don’t like it, why couldn’t it have been legitimate for you to just take charge without my initial consent? It’s all just a big mess.
What do you think Malcolm? Doesn’t it seem like, on these key points, the reviewer and author are just re-asserting some very dubious liberal-modern claims? It really does seem like the usual empty “propositionalism’ despite their disavowals.
Jacques’ comment raises, directly or indirectly, these titanic questions:
1) In what coherent sense could Jefferson and the Founders actually have understood men to be “equal”?
2) What does equality mean in the context of liberty? (How can they not be mutually antagonistic?)
3) Does a truly just equality imply different forms or degrees of liberty for different people?
4) How is the concept of consent compatible with any coherent notion of sovereignty?
5) Is there any such thing as natural rights? Where do they come from? Are they even conceivable in the absence of God?
6) What can it possibly mean for rights to be “inalienable”?
7) Was the erosion of the principles of the Founding, and the nation’s decline into its present condition, implicit in those principles themselves? Or was it the result of a decline in the civic virtue of the people? If so, was that inevitable?
8) Whatever one might say about all of that, the founding of the American nation was a wholly unprecedented event in political history, and the men assembled at the end of the war against England had, to put it mildly, a very difficult job to do. They rose to the occasion with, I believe, a collective genius the like of which has not been seen before or since. They set out, in an era of hereditary monarchies — many of them senescent and failing — to attempt a radically new model based on liberty and individual dignity. Ought they not to have tried? Given what they had to work with — a widely heterogeneous assortment of states, economies, Christian sects, and transplanted British subcultures, spread across a vast and variegated landscape, needing to be welded together in the aftermath of a bitterly exhausting general war — could they have done any better? How?
9) What ought we to do now?
If you think I am now about to answer these questions, neatly and precisely, in numerical order, I’m sorry to disappoint you, though I will at least take some of them up in forthcoming posts. To the extent that they are answerable at all — and I think some of them are — doing so has been the work of many lifetimes of study and reflection, and has engendered endless controversy. (I’ve been thinking about them for a long time now, too.) My aim in this post was simply to unpack them and spread them on the table.
Please have a go at them. I will caution you, though, against the temptation to imagine that you already have them all figured out.
I’ve just read a remarkable review, by Michael Anton, of a new book by Thomas G. West, who is a professor at Hillsdale College. (You may know Michael Anton as ‘Publius Decius Mus’, the author of the celebrated essay “The Flight 93 Election” that argued for the necessity of electing Donald Trump in 2016.)
Professor West’s book is called “The Political Theory of the American Founding: Natural Rights, Public Policy, and the Moral Conditions of Freedom”, and Mr. Anton describes it as “the most important political book published in my lifetime, a distinction I expect it will hold even if I live another half century.”
That is high praise indeed. Mr. Anton’s review itself was so extraordinarily detailed and compelling that I ordered a copy of the book as soon as I’d finished it. Read it yourself, here.
As I mentioned recently, it’s been a busy spell for me, with little time or “bandwidth” for writing (though by now I’ve built up quite a backlog of things I’d like to comment on). Now I’m off to Kansas City on business for a few days. Will post as time permits.
I heard some very dark news last night: a woman we know, the closest friend of a couple who are among our own closest friends, has been diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer. She is one of the nicest and most intelligent people I know, and has already been though hell: her husband died in a freak accident a few years ago. Now she is under what is almost certainly a death sentence.
There is a secondary awfulness to news like this — it embarrasses me even to acknowledge it, but it is real and nearly universal: it is the sudden shift in how we feel in the presence of the mortally ill. How do we speak? How do we comport ourselves in the presence of someone with whom until recently we shared, as equals, all the normal trivialities of life, but who now lives in a mode that is utterly different, darkened with horror, and from which there is no escape?
Hotel rooms generally have thick dark curtains, because what streams through an uncovered window can disturb a sleeper’s rest. The dying who walk among us are open windows to the Void — and they disturb our sleep as well.