Revolution, Heretics, and Crusade

Or:

Why it's Good that I Want to Storm Constantinople, but a Bad Idea nonetheless...

A recent post made me think of a few other posts, and a horde of comments I've heard over the year. As a highschool teacher in a Catholic school (up here in Canada they're publically funded- which is both good and bad) I've had the fortune of teaching Church history. And the interesting thing is that the majority of my classes, which are optional, are young men.

More interesting is how these normal young men react to words like "heretic" and "Crusade." I would hear the word "heretic" in the hallway (generally as a joke) but the question kept coming up in class as well. Is this person a heretic? This historical figure? This pop culture icon? The question as also come up in the com boxes.

This is something that these fellows gave me a lot of when we were studying the Crusades,a s well. I could see that surge in the blood, as if some of them wanted to come with me to storm the gates of Constantinople (and I'll admit that my blood surges at the image too.) They weren't simply interested in the notion that the Crusades were a necessary act of self-defence on behalf of the West, they were excited about it. And they wanted, on some level, to do something about it.

But where was all of that coming from? Admittedly some of it comes from being men, particularly young men, and relishing the notion of adventure. This isn't a bad thing. Some of it doubtless comes some disgust with how the world is and the fact that it was not always so. Some of it is probably a kind of vindication, that the West isn't necessarily the root of all sins as some of our own brethren would have us believe, leading us like lemmings to some kind of cultural suicide. But another part of it must be that yearning that we have for something beyond us which sometimes leads young men to join gangs but is really a yearning for God.

So, since several of those young gentlemen still read this board, let me remind you of a few things. Heresy still exist, and those who adhere to heresies are indeed heretics. But you need to somehow follow the Christian message before you can try to warp the Christian message, so only those people can be heretics. And it's a tragic diagnosis, not a warcry. (Though you all have the cuteness of puppies at play when you say it.)

Nor can we retake Constantinople, or at least it seems very unlikely at this point. And if Islam ever does fall it will not be to swords, but to Truth. So your war, if you wish to take up the banners of the ancient Crusaders, must be one of Truth and not bloodshed.

This would be the same for any Chestertonian revolution. But the good news is that Chesterton would have been happy to bandy words with you over a good beer at a small pub that felt like home. A Chestertonian revolution would be so very fun. We would roar and wave our walking sticks about, grinning and fighting the world because we love it and hate it at once.

Why Chesterton?

My students often wonder why I have such enthusiasm for Chesterton, a zeal that often outstrips my wonder for more famous writers. The answers are manifold, but here's a shot at putting the whole thing into perspective.

Imagine that Jane Austen (since we've discussed her) was forgotten, almost completely left in the ashes of the past, abandoned by the literary canon. Now imagine that you, being a fan of fine words and British literature, are introduced to this stuff by a friend. Imagine your surprise at learning that one of the greatest writers in English history had been forgotten. It would be a tragedy, would it not?

Now stretch that a bit, a great bit, and put in her place a great, fat, jolly specimen of an Englishman: Chesterton. He wrote far more than Austen did (I've read of his four books, a few dozen essays, a handful of short stories and poems yet I have barely scratched the surface of this mammoth collection) and he was widely known in his day. He was friends with many prominent names, debated almost anyone of any importance who would try him, always winning, and was loved by friend and foe alike. People would travel for miles around just to hear the man speak.

And have you heard that Chesterton's Everlasting Man was one of the reasons C.S. Lewis converted to Christianity, or that he was an influence on Tolkien? Or that dozens of writers from Hemingway to Kafka were admirers as well? Or that his book on Dickens was one of the reasons that author saw his own revival in the early 20th century? Did you know that one of the most influential hagiographers (an academic whose specialty is saints) of the 20th Century, Etienne Gilson, greatly admired his work on St. Thomas Aquinas?

This is Chesterton. His writing is not only beautiful, lyrical at times, but also brilliant. And he has been forgotten in a way that is truly frustrating for his admirers. One of the greatest Canadian writers, Robertson Davies, called Chesterton the most unfairly forgotten writer of the 20th century. But my zeal grows greater because I don't think it's an accident that Chesterton was forgotten. Because he was Catholic.

Tolkien, you might note, was also Catholic yet remains popular. But Chesterton was a warrior (named a Defender of the Faith by the Pope, and a better one then Henery - Henery!), his arguments irrefutable, his worldview vast and inescapable. A postmodernist has great difficulty answering Chesterton, so the postmodernist ignores Chesterton.

In his way, Chesterton was a greater phenomenon than Jane Austen, yet unlike her he is forgotten. So, sometimes I speak with the zeal of the converted because I've only been poking into Chesterton's works for so little time (the past two years only.) But I read him because his writing is beautiful, and his thoughts similarly so.

For a long time now I've been trying to escape the mind-slavery of our time. That's what brought me to the study of history, and to literature. I've also been trying to recover a Catholic imagination, the psychology or perspective that my ancestoprs had when they looked out at the world. And I find that, as I read Chesterton, I not only discover the Catholic imagination. I slowly begin to assume it into who I am.

Dawkins and Philosophy

Alternate Title: Big Bang Bites Man!

Okay, so let me state something for the record. What I'm about to offer is not meant to be a compelling proof of God's existence. My answer is not evidence but faith which, contrary to the opinion of some, is not akin to fairy tales (unless you think your mother's love is akin to fairy tales - hopefully not the ogre-ish kind.) It is meant to be a response to the atheist assumption that belief in God is not rational. By the end of this post, my hope is that you can at least sit back and say "I get it" and see that there is validity to the theistic proposition that matter/energy/spact/time isn't all there is.

So.

One of my problems with Dawkins is that he ignores the philosophical dimension of Christianity and attacks the very ugly caricature of a religion that he's created. For example, he ignores the necessary questions raised by Big Bang theory, such as: "What caused it?" The question of first causes has been around for hundreds of years. Basically the idea is this: The universe contains and is everything physical. It is made of matter and energy in all their forms existing in a matrix (that just means spatial context) of space and time. Before the Big Bang (and I use the word "before" metaphorically here, since there was no "before" due to time not existing, time being a physical substance) there was nothing. Then there was something. What was the cause of that first explosion of light and energy?

Yes, yes, some posit that there has simply been an infinite number of explosions, universal expansions, and eventual contractions. Two rseponses: First, that only pushes back the question, where did all this matter come from? Nothing comes from nothing, so where is all this from? Second, recent evidence is that the universe is accelerating in its expansion, not slowing down as it should. A question: Where is the "energy" coming from to cause space to expand at an ever increasing rate? Who's driving this crazy thing?

Are there several answers? Certainly. Are they logical? They may well be. But my point here is that the universe needs a cause, something which itself is non-physical and does not require that matrix of space and time to exist. If we compared the whole physical universe, with all its matter/energy/space/time to a globe of water, we would need a First Cause that was able to exist outside that globe of water. Again, "outside" here is used metaphorically. The theist's answer is that, if we move down the checklist, we see some familiar things. So we need something that would Cause or Create (check.) This thing needs to be non-physical in nature (dare we use the word- spiritual? check, check.) As a non-physical reality this Thing therefore is without measure both physically and in time, since it is outside of that bubble of the Universe (and here, we can use the word, infinite- check, check, check.) This is the theist's God.

I know, I know, there is nothing in this exploration that requires the Christian God. No, it doesn't and you could believe this theory and attach all sorts of religions to it. That's fine, and Deism is a god example of where you could go. The point, again, is to show that the theistic proposition is a rational one, not the lump of superstitions presented by Dawkins. You may disagree with the theory, but you should at least allow that it is reasonable. Oh, and there are good articles on the history of the Big Bang theory (I get a kick out of that one) and St. Thomas Aquinas and Big Bang Theory.

For the record, let's call this Proposition A.

Why Study History?

The past two posts have been a bit of a reminder for me of how much I enjoy the study of history. It is, I think, undervalued - maybe because there aren't enough "concrete" benefits to for a utilitarian culture. But I think it's essential, and here's why:

History doesn't just help give you perspective on why the world is the way it is (though it can do that.) History is about freedom and identity, freedom from the slavery of imagining only one worldview and the ability to develop an identity which spans the centuries rather than relying on name brand logos.

Study history; pick your period. Read it, study it, imagine it and you'll find, in time, that the people in those hazy times start to come into focus. They become more human, motivated like humans, sharing in our basic blend of dreams and hopes, fear and suffering, bravery and weakness. You'll be delighted with some of the ways they responded to challenge, uplifted by the fact that it isn't simply the 21st century version of Homo sapiens that has the capacity for creativity. In short, you will find yourself sympathizing with these people. In time you may come to love them.

And: If you can bring yourself to to love another age for its people, its dress, and its customs you are finally free. You can at last turn your eyes back on your own time and judge it with some clarity. You'll still be in your time - nothing can turn the clock back- but you will be a little less beholden to it, its claws won't be so deep in you.

That leaves you free to keep the good and reject the bad, since every age will have both. It is also, ladies and gentlemen, a way to achieve a real non-conformism that so many youth seem to yearn for.

And as for identity, just imagine your own memory for a moment. Your memory is so integral to your being that your very self-identity would collapse without it. How can I have a sense of myself if I've forgotten everything? Imagine it for a moment, looking out on the world and recognizing nothing. Imagine having lived a life but not recalling any single choice you've ever made. How do you know anything at all?

Ignorance of history is like amnesia on a vast scale. How are we in the West supposed to have a good sense of what the "West" even means if we've forgotten everything? There have been attempts at inventing a history, but these are coloured by a desire to justify the present. So, most of our stereotypes of the past, of the middle ages for example, are negative. All we see are brutes mucking about in a dark age that was only illuminated by the light of science and secularism.

What that means though, in some ways, is that you're being asked to assume the worst of your ancestors. Studying history is a reconnection with those ancestors, like renewing a relationship with your beloved grandparents. Because the history of our civilization is not just necessary to the broader culture, but as an act of renewal and self-discovery for the individual.

Which brings me back to the Church. If you are of European ancestry your history is Catholic. Your ancestors celebrated the sacraments in stone churches under starry skies. Your blood is full of the assumptions bred into you by a hundred generations of Catholic thought: the sanctity of life, the equality of man, free will, the beauty of the individual. A rigorous and imaginative study of history will bear this out.

Dawkins and the New Atheism

In the next week I plan a spree of posts dealing with Richard Dawkins. But when I refer to Dawkins, I'm also referring to a new brand of atheism that is not satisfied with unbelief but feels a moral obligation to spread the good word to the people. This new atheism is militant, spreading, and carries with it views of history and humanity that a Catholic must object to.

Again, I am a Catholic writing with a Catholic philosophy. It is my opinion that my set of beliefs are reasonable and good, though ultimately not proveable. Dawkins does not believe that my beliefs are justified by reason and believes the world would be a better place without them. I believe his position amounts to ill-considered bigotry.

Now, there are enough points to argue in this that I'll be breaking it down into pieces. Please feel free to point out anything I haven't touched on yet; if it isn't already on my list of items I'll gladly add it. Last, this represents my core beliefs. I've come to this place through a long road of reading, thinking, arguing, etc. I think I'm right, which is fair since I wouldn't be standing on this little hill and defending it if I thought I was wrong. You're more than welcome to comment or argue, but please maintain courtesy and fairness while doing so. I will attempt to do the same.

"Progressives" and the Lot of the Common Man

I plan on writing several posts about this idea: that the left, in its own way, is as bent on the repression of the common man as the right is. This is, surprise, surprise, a central idea that comes up when reading Chesterton. (Who is he? Check here. There's a solid introduction to him as well as a lot of his work.)

Generally the idea is this. Once upon a time people owned things. They owned land, their own businesses, their own houses. That time has passed, and with it a lot of the autonomy that people used to enjoy. Chesterton blames this on big industry and big government, and you shouldn't be surprised to read more about that later.

What I'd like to focus on is a certain feel on the Left that's hard to pin down, as if the common man isn't to be respected. Think of the very term "common man." It used to be something you could refer to in stirring tones, as if it were the common man holding things together (which was and is often the case.) Or consider the ideas of common wisdom, common law, common sense. They all used to have a certain weight to them. No longer. And why?

There are probably a few answers to that question. One is certainly the slow failing of Tradition in the West (along with its prophets, the elderly, who here like no place else are mocked and marginalized.)

Another big one is the marginalization of the common man himself (and -ahem- herself.) To say common implies things in common, meaning normalcy. And normalcy itself has become a taboo word to the Politically Correct crowd. The Progressive stands for progress, which means Change, which means that simply doing with people has always done has to go, whether it was good or not. And the fruits are heavy: relativism, transhumanism, some would say the impending demographic crisis in the West (more than impending if you're Russian.)

These are the days, I believe, in which the West either falls are somehow redefines and reinvigorates itself (and it has done so in the past.) The upcoming posts on the Common Man will outline why I think the normal, everyday people we pass on the streets will have more to do with that than any dubious cultural elite.

Utilitarianism and the Christian ethos

More words.

We've talked a little about Utilitarianism and some of the problems that go with it. It's a subject that makes me want to rant a little, foam at the mouth and all that. After all, it's so fuzzy! But then, maybe that's why some people slip into it. Add a dash of relativism and the "good" you're seeking can be anything, especially in a Western mindset that has twisted freedom and personal autonomy into licence and narcissism.

Take the Wiccan commandment, for example: "An (if) it harm none, do as thou wilt." Now, I like commandments (especially commandments written in Elizabethan English!) but "harm" is a very fuzzy concept, and solidly consequentialist in its basis (another sign, by the way, of Wicca's newness on the world stage, all those carefully placed "thous" and "wilts" notwithstanding.) All of this leads to a case by case approach to morality that applies extremely vague ideas like Good and Harm, with a measuring stick of Consequence that we can never fully measure. You would need to be omniscient to fully know the consequences of any act.

Then there is the opposite of the Consequentialist approach, which is really just the principled approach. You begin with a set of principles like "All life is sacred" or "All men are created equal" and then simply apply them (okay, the application can be complicated and demanding.) People dislike doing this because it requires too much thinking, or maybe because operating from principles invites dangerous conversation, like where those principles comes from. Much easier to go with the fuzzy "do less harm than good" even if you can't properly define harm or good, much less quantify them.

Some people asked, after the post on Aristotle, how that really disproved or countered Utilitarianism. The answer is also a Christian answer, that good or ill lies in the nature of the thing itself and not merely in thinking it (though Catholic thought has room for the intent as well, as in accidentally killing for example.) The Christian thic comes from the Christian Faith, namely that there is a God who created the world out of love. He came down among us and died for our sins (more on that later) and has commanded us to live in love for our good and happiness. That seems easy, but look how it plays out and see how you might just be a Utilitarianism: If I kill one to save many, I am still a murderer. Don't ask how many; there is no sudden tipping point where 9 isn't enough but 10 means I can shoot the guy. It's always wrong (unless it's defensive, but let's assume an innocent victim for this discussion.)

That's Catholic. The individual life is sacred. More than that, so is your soul. Last time I talked about the Aristotelian idea that our actions slowly change our essence. Imagine that the essence we're talking about is not simply your psychology but your soul. Imagine for a moment that you have one (hopefully no struggle.) The Christian ideal is focussed on both this world and the next, neither at the cost of the other. Hence the Scripture: "What does it profit a man to gain the world if he lose his soul?" Hence also the Jewish proverb: "He who saves a single life saves the world entire." The single soul, every single soul is as important as anything. Every one.

Now that's pretty radical, you say. And it is. Christianity is only easy and self-satisfied if it isn't attempted but only glossed over. It was Chesterton who said that "the Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried."

The Christian philosophy rejects measuring consequences as a means of founding morality for so many reasons. Consequences can't be measured. Humanity cannot invent any "Good" on its own and agree on it. Consequences, when they can be measured, allow the few to suffer so the many can be happy: that's tyranny. The Christian response to this is revolutionary, counter-cultural, exactly the sort of rebellion that so many young people are looking for. It is only a matter of stepping into it, adopting a different worldview, and exercising your human will. Hopefully some of you do.