A Personal Reflection on "Catholic" Education (Part 5)

"The reformer is always right about what is wrong. He is generally wrong about what is right." - G.K. Chesterton

I couldn't attempt a solution without Chesterton's help. I'm certain that he would agree with me about the condition of the Catholic schools, though he would be far more optimistic about them than I am; and I further believe that he would agree with many of the solutions that I shall attempt to offer herein, though I rather think he would humbly protest that there are far better things for people to read than any of his books.

The solution, as I see it, is twofold. First, teachers at Catholic schools have to be Catholics; the more sincere, the better. Now, it's not imperative that the math teacher can quote Chesterton, although a certain quip about triangles comes to mind which would delight many a math teacher; but they should have a basic grasp on their faith, as all adults should. More importantly, they should have that personal relationship with Christ without which are faith is null, and which produces the love which is often a better witness for the Gospel than the most well-written apologetic.

Second, the teachers should have a good idea about what the Church thinks concerning their particular field of study. This presents an impressive task for the religion teachers especially, but hardly an insurmountable one. While it is impossible to read everything ever written by Catholics, to say nothing of the wonderful writings of the pre-Catholic pagans and Jews, and the many partially good things written by non-Catholics, especially in the years since the Reformation, it is very possible to attain a good grasp of the matter. A religion teacher may not have read all of, say, Newman, but one would hope she would have heard of him; he can be forgiven for being unable to get through The Summa, but he had better have heard of St. Thomas Aquinas.

The problem with the former has been touched on already. Sanctity is far too scarce in this fallen world. As to the latter, I believe that the reason our teachers didn't touch on the Catholic giants of the past is that they were honestly unaware of them. Poorly educated people make even poorer teachers; the cycle of mis-education is self-perpetuating.

The solution, then, involves people who received good Catholic educations, or autodidacts like myself, should try to give back, becoming teachers in the Catholic schools--and before you ask, yes, I'm considering it. One more mediocre teacher isn't going to do much to degrade an already bad situation, but one good teacher can help immensely. Once one has heard of, say, Hopkins, one isn't likely to forget about him.

Which leads me, quite readily, into another point: Catholic teaching should in no ways be confined to religion classes. There is no reason the English classes--to take only one example--shouldn't similarly provide an immersion in Catholicism. As Mark Judge points out in God and Man at Georgetown Prep:

"The Catcher in the Rye is indeed a wonderful book, and I have no criticism of its inclusion in any high school curriculum. What I now find disturbing is that the book was not balanced by a curriculum that included great Catholic books--The Man Who Was Thursday by Chesterton, the space trilogy by C.S. Lewis, Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh. From The Catcher in the Rye we went not to Tolkien's Lord of the Rings but to Lord of the Flies, another book about juvenile delinquency." p.63

I personally think The Catcher and the Rye, which we also read, is overrated, and it's a bit unfair to lump Lewis with the Catholics, but Judge's suggestion is worthy of a hearty second. Brideshead Revisited is an amazing novel, and it is a shame it is not read oftener, especially among Catholics.

The word catholic means universal; far from entering a smaller world, the Catholic universe is exquisitely rich and inexhaustibly large. In fact, the difficulty in composing a curriculum for Catholic schools, is not in figuring out how to plug a few Catholics into it, but in deciding on which authors to pick and how much room to leave for non-Catholics. Glancing at my bookshelf, I notice a large number of books written by Catholics--no surprise there. But if anyone would suggest that this has narrowed me, I need but hand them a reading list. You may think all sorts of things about the Catholic Church, but it really is "the only type of Christianity that really contains every type of man; even the respectable man", to quote Chesterton, and nowhere is this more obvious than in a survey of the various Catholic men--and women--of letters from the last two millennium. Any church big enough to contain Hilaire Belloc and Oscar Wilde is an impressive church indeed.

I thought about ending this with a recommended reading list of sorts, composed by myself. But Fr. John McCloskey has outdone me. And thank goodness, too. Any list I composed would be far too short. Catholic schooling is only the beginning, for as Fr. John points out, the reading list should last a lifetime. Upon finishing, one would hardly have begun to mine the rich treasures of the Catholic Church, and come no nearer to plumbing the infinite mysteries of God. Ultimately, it is too God that such an education should point, and it is a task of tremendous worth to point the young in His direction. As always, the harvest is many, but the laborers are few. May the master send more laborers for the harvest.

Faith and "logic"

As always, ask and ye shall receive. A friend from college asks:

My question is, where does your "logic" leave off and religion begin? Are they the same thing for you, or do you believe your faith is seperate from your logic? Is there a point where you say to yourself, "this is where my faith picks up, and my logic just doesn't matter"? I've never understood how somebody could have "faith" because one of my beliefs is that faith is something anybody can have about anything, and so faith in one thing is equal to faith in another thing. Anything that isn't based in logic or fact has equal weight to any other thing that is not based in logic or fact. So then I think, well, what use is faith then if I can have faith in anything? I think the hard part would be having faith in the first place and having the faith embedded in you enough (I'm not nessisarily talking about it being pounded into you by your parents/etc though often times I think that's the case) that it's just there and always will be. If that makes sense.

This is an all too common mistake. I tried to get at this with my column on the importance of science and religion, but looking back, it was a scattered effort, and probably less beneficial than I would have hoped. Hopefully revisiting the issue will help.

What my friend calls logic, comes from the Greek logos. Students of Scripture know that this is precisely the Word St. John uses to start his Gospel: "In the beginning was the Word (logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

It's usually a terrible idea to bring the Bible into a conversation with someone who views the Bible, at best as a farrago of some good poetry and fairly wise sayings, and at worst as a collection of rubbish. But it's instructive here because from the earliest days of Christianity--John wrote his Gospel towards the end of the first century AD--John is making it perfectly clear that the Good News is not irrational. This does not mean it's not fantastic, absurd, or implausible; but it is clear that logic cannot be contradicted by the Word Himself.

Many people mistakenly assume that religion is illogical or irrational because its claims cannot be proven. This misconception is usually coupled with another: that science proves things all the time, many incompatible with religion; and that rational men must thus believe, not in religion, but in science. We'll handle these one at a time.

First, the claims of religion, like the claims of science, are falsifiable. Finding the body Jesus Christ would disprove the Resurrection, and hence, all of Christianity. Discovering skeletons that are hundreds of thousands of years old, disproves a literal account of the first chapter of Genesis. On the other hand, some of the prophesies of the Bible are also falsifiable, at least theoretically. The emperor Julian, the apostate, famously tried to rebuild the temple after its destruction, foretold by Christ, attempting to nullify Christianity in the process. A pagan historian wrote that the workers were scorched by flames in the attempt, causing Julian to give up the effort. I could go into other fulfilled prophesies, but I see little reason to belabor the point. Religion is falsifiable, whereas parts of its truths can be confirmed.

The same holds for science. Science doesn't so much prove things as it disproves their contrary. In this way, we can use logic to come to scientific law. This is useful, but it has much less to do with religion than might be supposed. The best example of a conflict between the two involves the very silly Young Earth Creationists and the rest of us who doubt a literal account of the (first) creation story of Genesis. I've always thought that the fact that there were two creation stories should give one pause to take one or the other literally. In any event, it would be absurd to let a few wayward fundamentalist serve as one's guide to religion.

People also point out that evolution in general is not compatible with Christianity. Within certain boundaries, this is a false perception. Moreover, it overstates the extent to which evolution must be accepted by the logical or rational man. Certain facets of evolution have been demonstrated; but macroevolution is still only a theory, a possible explanation of the given facts, or at least our limited understanding of them. On the subject of consciousness, science can help us little, Julian Jaynes's quixotic attempt notwithstanding. More importantly, evolutionists will never be able to explain where matter came from, or why it exists at all.

Which brings me to the most important point regarding faith: human existence requires it. I did not say man must believe in God, but he must believe in something. The first thing a student of philosophy learns is that we can know very little. We exist; cogito ergo sum. After that... it's a matter of choosing among very plausible, but ultimately unprovable, assertions. I can't even prove that my friend exists. This could all be one tremendous mind game. Absurd? Undoubtedly. But not necessarily any less logical than its alternative.

If I had to succinctly explain why I have faith, I would say because it is necessary. If I had to explain why I believe in the creed professed by the Catholic Church, I would say that it makes as much logical sense as the fact that my friend exists. I'm not attempting to be trite. A number of things point to both conclusions. I can't prove either, but I can offer a summary in defense of both.

Maybe some day I'll explain why I believe, but I'm afraid it would be a rambling and largely incoherent collection of seemingly unconnected things. For now, I will add only this. Insofar as I am logical, it is because of the Church, and because of God's grace, which gave me the Faith to believe. Chesterton once described the Church as a map, with all of the bad roads of human thought clearly marked. In this way, the Catholic can avoid the heresies of the past, which are, not thoughts which the Church doesn't like, but thoughts which are not in accord with the Truth, at least not completely. Insofar as I've been able to avoid--Chesterton again--"the degrading slavery of being a child of [my] age", it is because, not in spite of, the Church.

I hope that helps. I wish my friend all the best of luck in his search for Truth. Seek, and ye shall find.

EP vs. Vox

Going up against an Internet superintelligence isn't always a good idea, but I'm with the weaker horse in this debate as Equus Pallidus takes on Vox Day. The topic: the Reformation.

The fingers of Protestantism have given more ammo to the atheistic community. They can now legitimately say, which version of Christianity do you believe. Even the Devil knows there is only one truth and that truth is the Roman Catholic Church and its authority.

I don't think EP makes his case completely--it's a fairly short post--but he quotes from Hilaire Belloc's How the Reformation Happened which Vox, and anyone who wants to understand the Reformation, would do well to read. Alas, it, like all of Belloc's books, suffers from lack of footnotes.

I'm very interested to see what Vox--a Southern Baptist if memory serves--has to say to my fellow Roman Catholic, EP. I may even have to hop in there myself and join the fray.

A Personal Reflection on "Catholic" Education (Part 4)

I've been dreading writing this one for a while. It's not so much that I don't know what to say--when has that stopped me before?--as that I know that whatever I write will be woefully inadequate to the subject at hand. This isn't a change either; but whereas I usually inadequately wax of things I know little about, these things are usually--thank heavens--of little worth in the grand scheme of things. Granted, for the sake of the argument, that all of my talk of politics is wrong, as Troutsky so often hints, I think I may be pardoned because the political is of so little consequence, especially in comparison to that which I will eventually turn to speak.

At the center of the Catholic life, is the Mass, that most perfect of prayers, the Eucharist. To outsiders, the differences between Catholics and Protestants may seem insignificant. When one is more discerning, differences appear. Catholics do not "worship Mary", though we do ask her to intercede for us. And while it is true that reverence for Mary is distinctly Catholic, I think the Eucharist sets us apart from our Protestant brethren even more. As a good friend likes to tease, "Catholics eat Jesus". As a matter of fact we do. Transubstantiation is a bit confusing, and I'd rather not get into it too deeply at present. Suffice it to say that belief in the Real Presence is a nonnegotiable article of faith for the Roman Catholic.

Anyway, concerning the Eucharist, The Catechism has this to say on the matter:

1324 The Eucharist is "the source and summit of the Christian life." "The other sacraments, and indeed all ecclesiastical ministries and works of the apostolate, are bound up with the Eucharist and are oriented toward it. For in the blessed Eucharist is contained the whole spiritual good of the Church, namely Christ himself, our Pasch."

1325 "The Eucharist is the efficacious sign and sublime cause of that communion in the divine life and that unity of the People of God by which the Church is kept in being. It is the culmination both of God's action sanctifying the world in Christ and of the worship men offer to Christ and through him to the Father in the Holy Spirit."

1326 Finally, by the Eucharistic celebration we already unite ourselves with the heavenly liturgy and anticipate eternal life, when God will be all in all.

1327 In brief, the Eucharist is the sum and summary of our faith: "Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking." (Footnotes removed.)

Forget, for now, the mystery of the Eucharist. The point is that the Eucharist should be very important to Catholics. In keeping with the theme of these posts, the degree of disrespect which greeted the Eucharist by my fellow students was embarrassing. Two explanations present themselves. The first is that Catholic education no longer instills in her children any respect for the Eucharist. The second is that, well, I'd rather not consider that.

One could claim that no Mass filled with hundreds of teenagers could possibly be reverent; but the multitude of Masses offered by Pope John Paul II at the various World Youth Day events would belie that fact. The inescapable conclusion is that Christ is not treated by respect in what passes for Catholic schools. Or, at least in the high school I attended.

I'm hoping that what I witnessed was just the effects of the hangover from the 60's--what kind of hangover lasts that long? Then again, an argument could be made that this is all a hangover from the Reformation. I'm rambling.

Things in the Catholic schools, I am told, are getting better. Pessimists aren't the type of folks who notice those sorts of things. Based on my limited observations, Catholic school isn't a place Catholic parents should be looking forward to sending their kids. Home schooling strikes me as a better option.

Once I recover from the malaise, I'll try to offer some suggestions for improvement.

I don't get Obama

My guy is staying in the race. He's almost certainly not going to win, but he was never exactly given much of a chance by anybody. Libertarians are plenty used to losing elections. The important thing about the Paul campaign was the message. Sure, the sorts of irascible malcontents who voted third party in '04 had heard of limited constitutional government, but to many, the message was new. It wasn't really new, of course, as Paul's foreign policy is built on the thoughts of men like Washington and Robert Taft. But when the Republicans took us to war, and the Democrats failed to take us out of it again, and Paul began to question the policies that lead us into such senseless wars, people sat up and listened.

They also gave money, which allowed the Pauline message to percolate through the masses. Only a small percentage of people have been receptive thus far, but the campaign did better than expected. And since there was never a huge chance that Paul would win, his campaign was focused on getting the message out to as many people as possible. Once you've realized that there is an alternative to the Big Government Interventionism of the Republicans and the Bigger Government Interventionism of the Democrats, there's no way you're going to vote for McCain, Hillary, or Obama.

Which leads me to my question. If someone asked me why I support Paul, I would explain, in no little detail, the positions for which he advocates and with which I agree. I like his fiscal policies, even the bit about the gold standard; I like his foreign policy, especially the part about bringing all of our troops home. But I'm not sure why people support Obama. Sure, he's for hoping--with audacity--and change, but these aren't policies; they're senseless platitudes.

I accept that Democrats who don't like Clinton would lean toward Obama. I have qualms with voting for someone one is only mildly enthused about, but that's a separate issue. I'm talking about the people who think Obama is the greatest thing since sliced bread. The passion of the Paulites is understandable. Libertarians don't usually get this much press, and I'm just as likely to follow closely the next one who manages to do so. But why the passion for Obama? John Derbyshire, a fellow Paulite, is wondering the same:

Is O'Bama's the Campaign About Nothing? If the guy is not an empty suit, he's been playing a l-o-n-g game. Several bloggers have been digging into his legal/academic career in hopes of turning up some paper he published, some forthright opinion he committed to paper. So far, next to nothing. For someone with O'Bama's résumé, this is wellnigh incredible.

Either O'B made a long-strategic decision very early on in life that he was going to climb the political ladder, and that therefore the less of a trail of opinions he left behind him, the less trouble he'd get into; or he really is a quite exceptionally empty suit. Which is it? Which is scarier?

Now, unlike Derbyshire, I see little reason to be frightened by Obama. He exhibits fascist tendencies, to be sure, but all of the candidates running are totalitarians, of various degrees. I've been reading Jonah Goldberg's excellent Liberal Fascism, and I was just itching to throw out both words, the latter an invention of Mussolini which he applied... to himself. I'm not scared, then, not because I think a Hillary/Obama/McCain presidency would be benign--I think all would be extremely harmful--but because it makes very little sense to be afraid over that which we cannot control.

One of the reasons I've blogged so little as of late is that I have so little interest in the upcoming election. The only possible conservative defense in voting for McCain is that he will get to nominate strict constructionists to the Supreme Court. But that's not the sort of thing McCain has made his mark doing. It's probably a moot point since he's not going to win, but if dealt a Democratic Congress, he's going to compromise with the liberals like he's always done. It's worth mentioning, at present, that the Supreme Court is filled with seven Republican appointees; yet it's still divided.

I wasn't intending to go on an anti-McCain rant, not today anyway. Instead, if there are any Obama supporters of the gung-ho variety, who could help explain their candidate to me, I'd be eager to listen. The other day, I saw one of his ads on television, promising to save $2,500 per family on HealthCare costs, while managing to cover everybody. I listened for details, but I didn't hear any. If they exist, I'd love for someone to point me to them.

How'd they miss me?

I don't write primarily to cause a racket; it's merely a delightful side effect. Most of my columns failed to generate a significant response, even on my small campus. So how on earth did one of my fellow writers get so much attention?

Feministing picked up an article by John Bustrak. The paper has since removed the link--cowards--so I can't read the whole thing. Nonetheless, I quote therefrom:

This day and age feminism has gone too far. I have several female friends whose greatest ambition is to be a wife and mother, but feel social and cultural pressure to go to college and get a prestigious job simply because it is expected.

Since feminism is supposed to be about freedom of choice, there's nothing untoward so far. But feminism isn't really about choice, so the writer thereupon starts to rant, in the sarcastic but unfunny style angry womenfolk always use:

Poor, poor women. Because of feminism, they feel like they have to go to college, instead of following their much more natural urge to pick up Bustrak's dirty socks.

This is because men, who have somehow managed to invent just about everything, can't manage to pick up their own socks. I know, we men were privileged; we used our inferior intelligence to create a male-dominated society which lasted for centuries, and will continue once egalitarianism retreats.

What escapes the attention of every feminist, is that without children, societies no longer exist. This is, quite literally, the only thing a society must do. Technology, indeed, civilization, is nice, and most of us wouldn't last long if they were to go, but a society which does not reproduce goes the way of the Shakers. This is also why egalitarianism must eventually retreat. A society with a centralized state depends on a larger number of worker bees in every generation. The mass importation of Mexican migrants will stem the tide for awhile, but one envisages a future republic in which women will be forced to breed, for the good of the state of course.

It should go without saying that I'm opposed to any forced breeding, but I'm opposed to most state action. Not desiring something to happen doesn't make it implausible. It might strike the reader as ironic that feminists would thus seek the state to do their bidding, but feminists have never been terribly rational, so the criteria for irony is not met.

This is because feminism is an evolutionary dead end. It's not impossible to have a job and a family, but if you put your career goals ahead of your familial ambitions, you'll find that it's hard to start a family. All the men will either be married, or completely disillusioned with the prospect thereof, and our liberated women will be confined to her wonderful little career making power points in cubedom--though her cats will comfort her.

I note in passing that a large number of Catholic women have sacrificed the married life, not so they could reach self-fulfillment in careers, but so they could teach arrogant fellows like myself, and bring the love of Christ to hearts, desperate for the love that only He can bring.

The problem with feminism is that it's ultimately narcissistic. The perceived happiness of the individual is not the measuring stick whereby the goodness of particular good should be judged. It is telling that a movement which ostensibly seeks to liberate women from the bonds of the patriarchy has tried to make women guilty for wishing to raise children--not pick up their husband's socks--instead of "working". Worse, the liberation has come at the cost of some 45 million dead, at least in this country.

As Vox Day once pointed out, "In the end, it's not that hard to understand. A little girl who is not born will never vote, work or raise a little girl of her own."

I'm not dead

Even if I'm not exactly getting better.

I plan on continuing the series on Catholic education, but I'm moving into an apartment and taking a brief vacation, so it my be awhile before I get to it. In all likelihood, no one cares, but I would be remiss in my responsibilities if I didn't explain the rationale for the long delay. Look for a new post in about a week.

It occurs to me that every time I say this, something big happens, whereupon I return to regular blogging. Consider yourself doubly warned.

Reviewed: The Irrational Atheist by Vox Day

It would be hard to escape the so-called New Atheists. Sam Harris has written two books, The End of Faith, and Letter to a Christian Nation; Richard Dawkins has penned The God Delusion, which has sold one and a half million copies; and Christopher Hitchens has contributed god is not Great.

The books have spawned a number of responses and objections, most of which offer a defense of religion against atheist attacks.

Enter Vox Day, a libertarian columnist at WorldNetDaily, who is also the author of several science-fiction and fantasy novels. Although Vox is a Christian, he insists on battling "the unholy trinity" in their home arena: his "only weapons are the purely secular ones of reason, logic, and historically documented, independently verifiable fact." (p.2) The result is The Irrational Atheist, a solid polemic, but one interspersed with a goodly amount of humor.

A common mistake in this debate--or indeed any debate--is to argue exclusively from one's own perspective. Quoting verses from the Bible is ultimately ineffective to someone who views it with the same amount of respective as one would regard the Weekly World News. While a case could be made that this is an example of "pearls before swine", the important point is that it makes for bad apologetics.

Vox steers clear of this trap and meets the atheist charges head on. The results are glorious to behold, though a tremor of pity may escape the human breast if one glances at the slain trinity. It's not just that Vox is intellectually honest whereas Harris, Dawkins and Hitchens are not. Vox has clearly read books relating to the subject matter--his knowledge of history is especially keen--whereas it appears that his opponents have assembled books after a series of college bull sessions and limited research, probably involving Wikipedia.

Sam Harris is clearly the biggest breaker of the laws of logic; as such, he takes the lion's share of the blows. Vox points out twelve glaring errors from his two books, before tackling the "striking"--Dawkin's term--argument of the superiority of atheism, based on a survey of crime data from red states and blue states. As Vox points out, the argument is idiotic, and proves nothing; but Harris is so mindbogglingly incompetent that the data actually suggest the opposite of what Harris claims.

As for the canard, hoisted arrogantly by Harris, that religions cause war: it's simply not true. According to the Encyclopedia of Wars, religion accounts for a mere 6.98% of all wars, 3.98% if Islam is excluded. And as Vox demonstrates in chapter xiii, the few atheists who have been given power have shown a disturbing propensity to spill blood--and lots of it. Compared to the copious crimes of atheism, the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition and the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre, are insignificant. Still, Vox doesn't merely present the damning death tolls. Instead, he covers the topics in a thorough manner, presenting events in their historical context. The Crusades were not explicitly religious, and became less dependent on religious motives as crusading continued. The Spanish Inquisition was responsible for 3,230 deaths, over a span of over 350 years. And while the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre was wholly indefensible, it was met with righteous indignation, shock and horror by all of Christendom. Vox also examines Hitler, a pagan who was nonetheless quite opposed to religion, and can on way be considered a Christian.

Having run through the lackluster Harris, Vox approaches the able evolutionary biologist, Richard Dawkins. Unfortunately, "Darwin's Judas" is out of his depth when dealing with religion. A number of books have been written, in the hope's of elucidating to Dawkins that which he has already attacked, but Vox instead focuses on Dawkins's inability to use the scientific method he ostensibly champions. Dawkins's book is the only book examined by Vox which I have also read; suffice it to say I was not impressed. Dawkins is much brighter than Harris, so he tends to be more careful at falling into logical traps. His book is certainly more coherent than Hithchens's--but so too is the livejournal of a typical fourth grade girl. Yet Dawkins dances, keeping his minions happy as he takes it to the benighted religious, leaving the latter a bit bewildered at what passes for a logical argument, and a bit angry at such astounding arrogance over what is little more than repeated "bait-and-switch".

Nonetheless, Vox catches Dawkins, who cannot believe in an improbable God, confessing faith in "seven impossible things". The assertions are quite silly, and Vox easily demonstrates them to be false. Most damaging, and least rational, is Dawkins belief in what Vox terms "the infallibility of Sam Harris". Coming on the heels of a skewering of Harris worthy of a Viking horde, this bodes badly for Dawkins. While his book is superior to those of Harris, tying the success of his own to the biggest atheist clown speaks volumes to the intellectual integrity of Richard Dawkins.

Vox also examines Dawkins's "unrebuttable" argument, "The Argument from Improbability for the nonexistence of God". Attempting to succinctly summarize the refutation of this argument would be very difficult to do. Suffice it to say that it's in chapter viii, and Dawkins has some explaining to do.

Hitchens merits a chapter, too, but the argument--if one can call it that--is so incoherent that it scarcely merits mentioning. One gets the distinct impression that there would have been no book were Hitchens allowed to fornicate freely. Only, so far as I know, he is. The Roman Catholic Church's opposition to birth control hasn't prevented those who disagree from partaking of the forbidden fruit; just ask the 96% of American Catholics who don't follow the Church on this exact issue. In Hitchens's mind, religion is inexorably linked to compulsion. Vox, the friendly libertarian, is just the person to correct this misconception. Vox lists a series of bizarre Hitchens quotes, and comments on a few of them. He then pronounces Hitchens "eminently likable" and "even charming at times", and extends an olive branch of mutual tolerance. One notes, in passing, the irony of Hitchens concerning himself with tolerance. This is the same fellow who wanted to nuke Iraq. But, as Vox repeatedly shows, Hithchens is quite irrational. He's primarily a rabble rouser--albeit a fairly entertaining one--who doesn't dare stoop to rationally, at least in making his case against religion.

Vox also comments on two atheists who are not part of the unholy trinity: Daniel Dennett and Michel Onfray. The two are remarkably different. Dennett avoids most of the mistakes made by the trinity, as he primarily seeks further use of science to examine the claims of religion. Since religion is, or should be, concerned with truth, Vox doesn't have a problem with this; nor should the believer. When he doesn't know the answer, Dennett sensibly admits as much; this alone sets him apart from his compatriots. Vox has to call him to the carpet to answer for a few foibles, but Dennett alone appears to realize that ridding the world of religion may not be all fun and games, even as he lumps God with the Easter Bunny. Dennett alone would never have inspired The Irrational Atheist. But his inclusion is beneficial because it demonstrates that not all atheists fit the unholy mold, and that however firmly one is convinced of one's personal atheism, there are many problems for a society which divorces itself from religion. It also demonstrates the inherent irrationality in even relatively innocuous atheism.

The case of Michel Onfray is also instructive. On the culturally secluded continent of North America, his name fails to ring a bell, but the expatriated Vox is familiar with this European icon. Onfray is not particularly coherent, and Vox spends little time examining the French post-modern nonsense of which Onfray subsists. But Onfray has his purposes, one being that whereas Dawkins and company are fine with the Christian morality--except for parts they don't like--Onfray wants a whole new system of ethics, an atheist's atheism. More importantly, Onfray is the only proponent of the rational extension of atheistic principles. The trinity is wise to avoid Onfray's conclusions, but they are not especially rational.

"According to Onfray, the New Atheist path leads to only to Nietzschean nihilism; his atheology is post-Nietzschean, leading humanity beyond the dialectic of nihilistic struggle and into a hedonistic philosopher's paradise." (TIA, p. 206) Inferno would be a better word, and if history is the judge, the path to paradise would lead through the gas chamber and the gulag.

There is more to the book, but this is supposed to be a brief review. The penultimate chapter presents fascinating take on the dilemma of omniscience and omnipotence, involving a computer programmer and his video game. I'm a bit uneasy with Vox's explanation, but after slogging through all of the atheist books, he's more than entitled to a theological exercise. The appendix involves a conversation with Socrates, in which Vox demonstrates some problems with the Euthyphro dilemma. The book closes beautifully with a testament to the edifying influence religion will always have over mankind.

No one should have had to write this book. The New Atheists never deserved to be held in such high regard. Those who have treated these unimpressive thinkers as intellectual paragons should be mortified. Vox has answered the call to arms. If his challenges are not addressed, no one will be able to take Harris, Dawkins or Hitchens seriously when they discuss religion. At least then the intellectually honest will know where the New Atheists stand.

Nor is it fair to ask "Who is Vox Day?" He happens to be a very intelligent man, but even if he's not, what does that say about the champions of reason, that a strange fellow from the Internet demolished them in intellectual combat?

This book is best suited for those who were a little too impressed with the arguments of the New Atheists; for those who haven't the tools to meet the seemingly irrefutable attacks of the atheists; and really, for all those concerned with truth. After all, that's what this whole debate is supposed to be about.

Imperialism and capitalism

I neglected to reply to Che Bob, and I'm attempting to rectify things with a post. He writes:

There is no legitimate way of disproving the obvious link between capitalism and modern imperialism. One must either be willfully blind or dishonest to deny it. And those of you who do so remind me of those that deny the overwhelming proof of climate change and evolution. Furthermore, choosing to ignore the link is tantamount to criminal complicity with the crimes committed for the sake of profit.

First, bringing up climate change and evolution is perfect, but only because both are so dubious. If by climate change, one means that the climate is not static, one would have a point, albeit a trivial one. It is far more likely that Che Bob, who can correct me if I am wrong in my assumption, believes that the human responsibility for climate change has been substantiated. Only it hasn't. The hysteria over global warming is due to a number of factors, but good science is hardly one of them. The models used to predict calamitous temperatures in the far off future are wholly unable to predict temperatures accurately in the short term.

Evolution is another case where something has been proven, only it hasn't. I'm not a young earth creationist, or even necessarily a creationist at all, but evolutionary theory requires far too much faith for me to believe, at least at present. A reasonable hypothesis isn't the same as a demonstrable theory. Evolution is a good guess of what may have happened, but it's hardly scientific since it can't be tested, at least at the macro level. As soon as we can start evolving animals in laboratories, and make accurate predictions about the ways in which the animals evolve, I'll cast aside my skepticism. Until then, I'm not biting.

Now, as for capitalism and imperialism, the connection is tenuous. For one, the most capitalistic country of the 19th and 20th centuries, America, was the least imperialistic; until recently, we were "a republic, not an empire", in Pat Buchanan's phrase. The growth of imperialism, such as our misadventures in Iraq, is linked to capitalism in part--war profits for corporations--but it was made possible by the growth of the State. A government that practices laissez-faire economics is, by definition, small. Corporations--which are also the creation of the State; corporations are not capitalism, to quote Vox Day--may have desired to increase profits by engaging in imperialism, but the State was too impotent to grant such a wish.

Capitalism is best defended by libertarians, such as Ron Paul, who is also the least imperialistic of those running for President. Those who believe in free markets, tend to abhor compulsion, in any forms, imperialism being just one example thereof. If capitalism were really to blame, America would have become an empire much sooner, but as we drifted away from laissez-faire, we moved toward imperialism. The connection may not be specifically causal, and yet, at root, the foolish belief of control serves both. Those who refuse to regulate the market, seldom attempt to coerce whole countries.

Capitalism is the endless accumulation of wealth, period! It must grow or die. It needs markets! It must expand.

That's simply not true. If anything, capitalism tends toward what Hilaire Belloc dubbed the Servile State. Capitalism reached its height during the early 20th century, at least in America; what we know possess is very unlike capitalism, though it still removed from outright Socialism.

You make a couple of mistakes in your characterizations of capitalism, typical of, but by no means exclusive to Marxists. The first is that capitalism can expand of itself; economics is not a zero-sum game. Henry Ford's assembly line increased automobile output, as well as the standard of living. He did this without having to resort to imperialism. This sort of thing happens frequently in capitalist countries, though the government is excellent at ensuring that it doesn't happen too often.

On the other hand, it was the Communist/Fascist regimes of the 20th century which were forced to be imperialistic. Since Lenin and Stalin were inept at running the economic show, they needed to resort to conquering other countries; they also made extensive use of slave labor. It is ironic that as the relatively benevolent empires of the western democracies began to collapse, the liberated countries erupted in violence and terror; meanwhile, other lands were engulfed by the Soviet empire, which was anything but benevolent. The U.S.S.R. demonstrates the silliness of your premise. You can't possibly insist that it was capitalistic, and yet, it was undeniably imperialistic.

Just think for a moment of all of the human and non-human nature that has commodified, privitized then exploited. Life has become patentable.

What you are discussing happened in the Soviet Union as well, so it's not strictly a result of capitalism. Instead, it was the fruit of a relativistic world, in which God had parted and man was left as the ruler by which all things would be judged. With the idea of the supernatural discarded, all things were temporal. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Doing away with capitalism won't change the commodification of human existence; it, will, however, ensure that there are fewer things to commodify under the despotic regimes which inevitably replace capitalist ones.

Sorry Wiser and Co., but there is no excuse, nor defense for Capitalism. It is inhumane, unsustainable and undemocratic.

And with what on earth would you replace it? Capitalism has its flaws, but it is a workable model that protects private property and human dignity better than its misguided substitutes. All of your charges are incorrect: capitalism is more humane than Communism; it is more sustainable; and it is more democratic. For goodness sake, you are perfectly free to lambast the system on a public forum! If you tried to do that in the Soviet Union, they would have shipped you straight to the Gulag.

An unpleasant anniversary

As some of you may know, today is the thirty-fifth anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the ignoble U.S. Supreme Court decision which, with its companion, the equally ignoble Doe v. Balton, legalized abortion, overturning state law in the process. The latest data suggests that abortions are down, which is a good thing, but 1.2 million isn't exactly a small number. Every aborted baby is a human person whose life was cut short almost before it had begun. Murder is always unjustifiable, but abortion is especially tragic, as mothers, those who bring life into the world, become destroyers of their own children.

It's important to be realistic; legal or not, abortions will probably still happen. But that's no reason to submit to hopelessness; precisely the opposite is true. Those who fail to understand the gravity of the abortion issue wonder why pro-lifers are so adamant about ending abortion. Yet, compared to universal health care, global warming, deficit spending, illegal immigration, even killing the Islamo-bogeymen in the Middle East, the murder of over one million innocent children per year occupies a completely different, and much higher, moral plain. Ending the immoral war in Iraq comes close; but even the most pessimistic estimates put total casualties short of one million, far less than abortion casualties--and over a shorter period of time.

Whenever the abortion topic comes up, thoughts immediately turn to the political. For over three decades, pro-lifers have turned out to vote for Republicans, the hope being that the party that professes to be pro-life will stop the slaughter. And yet, even with the House and Senate under Republican control, and with Bush as president, no real action was taken on the abortion front. And no, the silly ban on certain types of partial birth abortion doesn't count because it's not going to save a single life. In fact, legislation has been useless at slowing the stream of blood flowing from the abortion mills. Even the latest decrease can't be attributed to any government action.

With this in mind, an examination of the pro-life commitment to the Republican party is long overdue. That the Democrats are intolerable on abortion can be granted. But the Republicans are, by and large, equally intolerable, as those who claim that abortion is evil, and yet do nothing to stop it, cannot be justified. Ignoring all of the other issues, a Democrat, who simply believes that baby killing is a positive thing, might be preferred to a Republican, who denounces baby killing but then refuses to do anything about it. Liars to the left of me, cowards to the right...

The betrayal of the Republicans can be hard for some pro-lifers to stomach. Sadly, a large number still refuse to call a betrayal what it is--just as abortion proponents insist that the unborn child is only a fetus. When Hillary is nominated, it may be difficult for pro-lifers to avoid voting for the lesser evil; Huckabee and Paul are pro-life, but neither of them will get the nomination. But on the political front, it simply isn't realistic to pretend that electing lesser evils will help end abortion. To quote Michael Badnarik, "If you do what you've always done, you're going to get what you've always got."

But hope is not lost. For just as so many fail to see what the fuss over the unborn is all about, many fail to see the utility of our best weapon: prayer. No matter how bad things get on the political front, we will always be able to pray: for the innocent lives lost to abortion and for an end to the evil practice; for the doctors and nurses who aid in the process; for the mothers and fathers; for cowardly and dishonest politicians; and for those who believe a choice is more important than a child. In time, Mary, who is our mother, through her Son, will help all mothers, and end abortion in this land.