College degrees for all

One of things I learned during the painful Bush years was that it's not worthwhile to have to sit through any lengthy speeches. There's way too much clapping. And while it is nice to have a president who avoids stumbling all over himself while reading the teleprompter, I'm sticking with my technique of simply reading the remarks on the Internet.

There's a lot in there with which a libertarian could take umbrage. Despite the calls to reduce the deficit, outside of a rollback of the empire--which I support, but don't believe will be forthcoming--it's hard to see whence Obama is going to trim the fat.

A bizarre shout out to Biden and a number of incorrect assertions aside, this statement may be my least favorite:

As soon as I took office, I asked this Congress to send me a recovery plan by President’s Day that would put people back to work and put money in their pockets. Not because I believe in bigger government – I don’t. Not because I’m not mindful of the massive debt we’ve inherited – I am. I called for action because the failure to do so would have cost more jobs and caused more hardships.

As Rich Lowry commented, "He’s trying to redefine extensive government activism as simple pragmatism, and if he succeeds, might well shift the center of American politics for a generation."

First, it's simply not true that failure to act is what costs and prolongs the depression. As Murray Rothbard points out in America's Great Depression, "The severe depression of 1921 was over so rapidly, for example, that Secretary of Commerce Hoover, despite his interventionist inclinations, was not able to convince President Harding to intervene rapidly enough; by the time Harding was persuaded to intervene, the depression was already over, and prosperity had arrived."

The Great Depression, on the contrary, was treated by government action; consequently, as Rothbard details copiously, an ordinary recession blossomed into a full scale depression. Indeed, Obama's remarks are eerily similar to those given by President Hoover near the close of his first term: "we might have done nothing. That would have been utter ruin. Instead we met the situation with proposals to private business and to Congress of the most gigantic program of economic defense and counterattack ever evolved in the history of the Republic. We put it into action. . . ."

Aside from the fact that the actions of the government will do precisely the opposite of what is intended, and thus more needless pain will be endured by the American people because of the folly of their leaders, Obama has slickly avoided having to answer for ballooning deficits despite plans to reduce them by half. Since we have to act, act we must, by spending money we don't have. In the unlikely event that the recession ends, he can not only claim credit, but it will be easy to avoid having to reduce spending, since in perceived economic good times, as we saw during the Bush years, no one gives two mites about deficit spending.

What I really wanted to discuss, however, was Obama's education plan. I'll intersperse my comments with his remarks as is my wont.

Right now, three-quarters of the fastest-growing occupations require more than a high school diploma. And yet, just over half of our citizens have that level of education. We have one of the highest high school dropout rates of any industrialized nation. And half of the students who begin college never finish.

Society certainly doesn't benefit from increasing its scores of high school flunkies, but there is nothing to prevent someone without a diploma from succeeding in this country, except for the fact that graduating is so preposterously easy that a lack of a high school education in many cases is merely another name for sloth. On the other hand, the women who reach the age of eighteen with a pair of kids in tow, or the men with extensive time in correction facilities, have more pressing affairs with which to concern themselves.

The problem is not that not enough people are attending college; the problem is that so many students receive utterly worthless degrees. I live with an exceptionally bright individual who works in retail, his bachelor degree aiding him slightly if at all. As this graph demonstrates, Americans are first in the world--and fourth per capita--when it comes to tertiary education. While the country would benefit immensely if more students graduating with degrees in, say, engineering or computer science, we accrue no similar benefit from a proliferation of degrees in the social sciences. To be sure, some good can come of the latter, but what makes this country run is not hordes of feminists with Womyn's Studies degrees.

Already, we have made an historic investment in education through the economic recovery plan. We have dramatically expanded early childhood education and will continue to improve its quality, because we know that the most formative learning comes in those first years of life. We have made college affordable for nearly seven million more students.

Anytime you hear the government insist that it will make something more affordable, that's an immediate sign to run directly in the opposite direction. When you subsidize something, you get more of it. Increasing student aid is a good way get more kids to attend college, but it has nothing to do with reducing the cost of education. More competition for fewer students could drive prices down, but Obama isn't advocating this.

This also shows a lack of originality on Obama's part, which may be one of the themes of the speech. I'm going to sound like a talking head if I insist that the whole Democrat platform can be boiled down to increased spending, but in this case, it's true. For years, we've tried to make education more affordable. If it isn't working, shouldn't we change strategies instead of just pushing down harder on the accelerator?

But we know that our schools don’t just need more resources. They need more reform.

Unless the plan is to eliminate the government monopoly on education, reform isn't possible. I'm willing to bet that a disproportionate number of engineers and programmers come from the home schooled ranks, but I somehow doubt this is in line with the Obama plan.

That is why this budget creates new incentives for teacher performance; pathways for advancement, and rewards for success.

The unions have always fought this, so I'm intrigued to see if this happens. It's a good idea actually; if we insist on good teachers, it behooves us to find a way to reward them.

And so tonight, I ask every American to commit to at least one year or more of higher education or career training. This can be community college or a four-year school; vocational training or an apprenticeship. But whatever the training may be, every American will need to get more than a high school diploma. And dropping out of high school is no longer an option. It’s not just quitting on yourself, it’s quitting on your country – and this country needs and values the talents of every American. That is why we will provide the support necessary for you to complete college and meet a new goal: by 2020, America will once again have the highest proportion of college graduates in the world.

There is something to be said, I suppose for hope and optimism, but we always seem to carry it too far. As Alexis de Tocqueville put it in Democracy in America, "Aristocratic nations are naturally too apt to narrow the scope of human perfectibility; democratic nations to expand it beyond compass." There is something to be said, I suppose for hope and optimism, but we always seem to carry it too far. Despite our ostensible equality before the law, it's simply not true that we all possess equal abilities or virtues. It makes no sense to insist that everyone attempt to continue schooling beyond twelve years. The insistence that everyone finish high school is one of the factors that destroyed the diploma of whatever value it once held. If we are not to do the same with the university degree, we need to encourage those who are not qualified from finding alternative educational or employment arrangements. Or we could simply dumb down the curriculum until a college degree becomes the new high school diploma. Then, a president, many years hence, will be able to urge everyone to attend graduate school--which of course we'll make affordable. Is it really necessary to put off meaningful employment for so long? Couldn't we try to do with a little less schooling?

The rhetoric is nice, but it looks like the current president is taking off where the former left off in our slow march back to serfdom.

Making a few changes

After spending a few minutes wrestling with html I gave up and simply upgraded the template. Ignoring the fact that I'm a computer programmer, and thus should have no reason to ever lose a battle to html, we now have an upgraded template. The aesthetic has remained very much the same; the only noticeable change is that I now have a series of links to the right which catalogs the four books I have reviewed thus far.

There have been a number of reasons for the precipitate drop in posts over the last several months. First, I graduated from college; thus ended my job churning out weekly columns for the school paper. Second, I have stepped up my reading substantially. Despite a couple of wavers on my part, the plan all along was to get my degree in a field in which I could find a job. I would then go about giving myself a liberal education. I have some thoughts to offer on the matter, which can be saved for a later post.

The important part is that without the deadlines, I tend to neglect writing for reading. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; although my writing is improving, I still have far too much to learn to pretend that I can neglect my studies to empty out whatever wisdom is lodged in my cranium. There's probably some happy medium, which, in my tendency to go to extremes, I have not yet happened upon. My hope is that the book reviews will become more plentiful, and will serve to boost my pitiful post count. Feedback on them is thus greatly appreciated.

And, although my stack of books to read continues to grow, I'd be open to suggestions for books to review as well.

An Appeal for Open Revolt

As a deeply conservative Roman Catholic, it would be dishonest for me to suggest that I read Good Catholic Girls with a terribly open mind. Billed as a fight for change, the introduction featured calls for “an end to mandatory clerical celibacy” and arguments for “women's moral authority on birth control, homosexuality, divorce, and abortion”. Here was reform of the revolutionary variety.

Nonetheless, I read with curiosity. While Pope John Paul II's “Theology of the Body” is causing a sensation in more orthodox circles, it will be sometime yet before the rest of the world catches on: tellingly, it receives no mention in Good Catholic Girls. Meanwhile, the heresies which author Angela Bonavoglia presents are the sort paraded out every time the Church is believed to be poised for reform. Thus, for instance, when Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger—ubiquitous villain of the book—was chosen pope, journalists bemoaned the election of another traditionalist who was content to allow the Church to lag helplessly behind the times. The implicit assumptions seem to be: 1) that the Roman Catholic Church will one day shake loose the bonds of tradition and embrace modernity in all its forms; and 2) that the reluctance to do so is what prevents Her from once again playing a meaningful role in society. Specifically, Good Catholic Girls argues that it is high time the Church stops silencing women and starts embracing their role as “equals”. Of course, this is to be done on progressive terms.

Although I reject both assumptions, the book contains some value because it offers for examination a variety of arguments in their favor. This allows us to ask, charitably, how much can be said in favor of the drastic changes which Bonavoglia and her compatriots insist that the Church undertake. Setting aside the fact that many of these reforms are effectively impossible, the Church having settled the doctrinal dispute already, it remains unclear whether they would be beneficial.

As with so many feminist writers, Bonavoglia sees everything in starkly feminist terms: “The history of women's place in the Catholic Church is one of fits and starts, of rising power followed by backlash, of emerging authority squelched and denounced by a threatened all-male hierarchy.” This explanation is too simplistic, and does nothing to explain why men have also been denounced by an “all-male hierarchy”. For instance, some of the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas—who is called to the carpet for his “misogynistic theology”—were denounced as heretical a scant three years after his death. As Flannery O'Connor once put it while speaking on similar matters, “If they are good, they are dangerous.” The Church would not have lasted these two thousand years if She did not tread very carefully when it came to new and alarming thought.

Given the title, one assumes a predilection with women's issues. But her obsessiveness often exceeds the bounds of prudence. For instance, in covering the sex abuse scandal of the Church—which is done quite well for the most part—she notes that women too have been abused; and, whatever one's feelings for the “patriarchy”, the male clergy of the Church bear immense responsibility for what occurred. But to argue that it is women who are sexually involved with Catholic priests who “are arguably in the greatest danger of exploitation” is absurd: first, because it suggests that adult women are even less capable of removing themselves from abusive situations than are children and adolescents; and second, because it undermines the whole point of her book, which is that strong women cannot and will not be silenced by a Church that they are changing.

One mostly good chapter highlights the hypocrisy inherent in a clergy which takes a vow of celibacy and then lives licentiously, and a Church which seems nonplussed. To which I say: preach it sister. She then pleads for a change which is ultimately at odds with her fundamentally sound criticism: “One might have expected, in the face of the onslaught of outrage engendered by the sex abuse crisis, that the hierarchy would back off its rigid prohibitions concerning premarital sex, artificial birth control, infertility treatments, condoms to prevent the spread of AIDS, sterilization, homosexuality, remarriage after divorce, and pregnancy termination.” Why would one expect that? When confronted with an abuse of an ethic, it doesn't do to overhaul the whole edifice. The Church's teachings on human sexuality can be difficult to understand, and, but for Grace, impossible to follow completely. But their difficulty does not mean we should cease trying to adhere to them.

Despite the focus on sex and power, Bonavoglia is actually a bit confused about what she wants for the Church. After deprecating the institution of the priesthood, she implores that women be allowed to join it. Intent on improving the role of women in the Church, it is understandable that she may sometimes be unclear about the best way to do so. But it hardly makes the cautionary observer wish to join the crusade for an undefined panoply of reforms.

Bonavoglia offers insight into the progressive mind, but she seems incapable of understanding the mind of one who believes and strives earnestly to follow Church teaching on all issues. Her chapter on abortion, for instance, bemoans the fact that the Church pays so much attention to this one issue when there are so many other battles to be fought. The reasoning is simple: if the Church is correct that abortion is murder, then the silent holocaust is far and away the most important issue of our times. Noticeably, she completely fails to make this identification, instead offering her usual claptrap about sex and power.

Regrettably, this flaw pervades the book. Despite her frequent calls for dialogue, Good Catholic Girls is decidedly and disappointedly one-sided. Rather than extensively cover the reasoning behind a particular doctrine, which the Church has painstakingly defined after centuries of thinking on the matter, Bonavoglia finds a few excerpts to fit with her sophistical thesis. Thereupon she charges at the windmills of perceived oppression. The reader is left to scramble for the Catechism to provide a much needed counterpoint. It is a bit difficult to find cause to scramble back.

The postmodern despair

I live with an amusing and very intelligent fellow with whom I had the privilege of attending college. He is a good deal sharper than I am, the proof of which is that he often happens upon a particular theory well in advance of me; when I at last catch up, I mention my discovery to him, as he exasperatedly explains that he already knew this, and had, in fact, mentioned it to me previously. For instance, during our freshman year, he flatly pointed out that there was no difference between the Republicans and the Democrats. I objected, only to recite this very same fact with utter confidence some years later.

Similarly, for years he has been preaching to me what could ironically be dubbed the postmodern faith. And for years he has attempted to rebut my criticisms of that which, in fairness, neither he nor I, nor anyone really, completely understand. The tale of postmodernism involves a little history lesson. As science developed, man became more confident that he could comprehend the world in its entirety. Rejecting religion, modernists sought to use reason alone to understand man and his society. Faith left man content to gaze at the stars and hope for a better existence in some future life; but science promised to harness happiness in the here and now, in the inexorable march of progress.

Just as faith suffered a blow in the wars between Protestants and Catholics in the Reformation, and, to an extent, made way, eventually, for modernism, the bloodbath that was the twentieth century shattered man's faith in his own perfectibility. Billed as "the war to end all wars", the first world war settled precisely nothing; Europe had bathed in the blood of its children, and would do so again in less than thirty years. It would be some timbefore modernism would admit its defeat; meanwhile, the poet T.S. Eliot captured the mood best with his masterpiece, The Waste Land, which was published shortly after the end of the first war. As historian Paul Johnson puts it in his book Creators, "The Waste Land is not a narrative but a poem about moods, predominately despair and desolation, reflecting the ruin and waste of Eliot's private life and the defeat World War I had pointlessly inflicted on civilization."

Postmodernism can best be seen and understood as a reaction against the modernists. But whereas traditionalists such as Hilaire Belloc and G.K. Chesterton defended the Catholic Church, and the civilization which it built, and offered Her creed as the antidote to modernism, postmodernism retains the disregard for religious truth, and, indeed, much scientific truth as well; it offers a sort universal skepticism to the confidence of the moderns. Often contradictory, it tends to evade criticism because it makes so few claims.

It is also, my friend informs me, more about a mood and a state in which we find ourselves, than a school of thought led by protagonists. There are postmodern theorists of course, which I have neither the patience nor the inclination to explain; but it is a peculiar theory for which to fight. For a fight must have a cause, and the postmodernists don't seem to have one.

Now, as a Catholic, like the Chesterbelloc, I would answer the postmodernist by pointing to truth. We could start with things grasped easily, like the existence of natural laws, by which man is bound, and without which civilizations crumbles into barbarism. The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception we would save for later.

And yet, even as I would meet these fellows with whatever wit I could muster, I have to admit that to an extent the postmodernists seem to have a point. They are wrong, of course, because however dubious we may be--and often should be--about the truth of certain matters, it is an intolerable absurdity to insist that it is not there because we cannot find it. Yet, as Eliot captured, the world does seem out of place, probably even unusually so. High culture has receded to be replaced by pap, offering no substance, but mere digestibility in the form of popular culture.

This dreary decadence has happened before, and it will happen again, so it's unwise to get overly lethargic. After all the excesses of the Renaissance, especially the behavior of the clergy, were one of the major impetuses to the Reformation. In the meantime, some good art was produced--although I've not read it, Erasmus's In Praise of Folly is generally regarded as a brilliant book. Selected geniuses aside, overall, the religious wars seemed to exhaust the energies of Europe; it took respite, resigned tolerance, and the casual passing of the seasons to make her again resplendent with a culture which forms a more honorable part of our heritage.

Normally, I'd insist, arrogantly, that the Church will unexpectedly ride to the rescue, as She often does. Just as the Jesuits confounded the Calvinists and Lutherans by saving half of Europe for Rome, just as the martyrs of the early Church surprised the Romans by dying joyously, and leaving one hundred more in their stead, the possibility of resurgence remains. But as anticipations of such are grounded solely on faith, and in utter disregard for the present position of the Church, it behooves us to look elsewhere.

It would be difficult to describe what we see as good, or even promising. Where are the satirists for this time of decadence? Is culture content to allow itself to be overtaken by a whirlwind of mediocrities?

Postmodernists argue, with some success, that society has lost all perspective. Experience, no longer rooted in anything, has become an end in itself; human life becomes a collection of experience; society, a collection of collections. Pagan society had myth: for the Greeks, this meant Homer. It didn't matter that it was difficuly to believe all the specifics of the stories; they provided the grounding, the shared vocabulary, which allowed Greek society to achieve such greatness. Similarly, Jewish society had the Torah and the priesthood. Christian society had the Church, and, with the coming of the Reformation, the Bible. Postmodern man has television shows which bring together the list of all of the neat things that happened during the last week. He has movies whose jokes are mere references to other movies he has recently seen. His personality becomes a list of things he likes; his friends are those who happen to profess a liking for similar things. To achieve individuality, he adds further and divergent interests to his list; sheer probability seems to separate him from the crowd. But whether he is popular or solitary, fundamentally, he is alone. He has enough distractions to fill his life should he so desire, but he is utterly unequipped to solve the existential crisis which confronts him when he is no longer surrounded by the cacophony of the media circus.

Like my friend, Walker Percy was way ahead of me. Binx Bolling, the antihero of his book The Moviegoer is a sterling representative of postmodern man, and a gentle reminder that while the culture in which he dwells changes frequently, man himself does not. Percy begins his book by quoting Kierkegaard: "the specific character of despair is precisely this: it is unaware of being despair". I can summarize no better, and can but plead for hope; hope that man may once again discover that he is not just a product of his time, but is instead a member of the brave and enduring human race. Greatness awaits.

Time to think

Sometime during the first semester of my sophomore year of college, my roommate caught me typing away at a not very good essay titled, if memory serves, “Time to Dump the GOP?”. Several months and many hackneyed attempts later, the prospect of displaying my little monstrosities in a small corner of the Internet proved alluring, and “Thoughts and Ideas” was born.

Many things have changed since then, mostly for the better. The scribblings now approach, if not lucidity, at least readability; and the topics covered, if terribly repetitive, at least strive to be substantial. My affinity for the GOP, meanwhile, no longer exists. The question I once posed can now be answered in a resounding affirmative. After eight years of Bush and a much bigger government, it seems inarguable that conservatives were not advancing their causes in supporting republicans. That the democrats are bad is not sufficient to prove that their ostensible opponents are good. Or, to put it a different way, comparing a defensive end to a nose tackle doesn't prove that the end is a little fellow. For a conservative, whatever he is, the republicans must be judged on their allegiance to the tenants of conservatism, whatever those happen to be.

Now that the democrats are ascendant, we've had to suffer a slue of pieces that either: 1) bemoan that fact and seek to give suggestions as to how the republicans can recapture power; or 2) gleefully insist that the election proved the supremacy of the current party du jour. This is to be expected, but both conclusions are too simplistic and should thus be rejected. The first, insofar as it may give cause for introspection, is more forgivable; but too often the assessment focuses mainly on the various trivialities that didn't so much change the race as they acted as symbols for it. Joe the plumber springs insensibly to mind. The reasons for the rout of the republicans are not to be found in a cursory summary of the campaign, nor even from a study of the Bush years, but can only be gleaned from a thorough examination of the historical record. I have no such inclination—though I could offer some guesses.

The second conclusion should be resisted far more strenuously. Given the insular two-party system, it is unreasonable to insist that the sole explanation for any extensive electoral change is to be found in the benevolence of the beneficiaries. Sometimes, perhaps often, a party may ride into power almost solely out of disgust for the opposition. People being fickle, eventually the republicans or their equivalent will again be swept into power, ushering in another batch of overwrought editorials.

As a libertarian, I know of no savanna in the political wilderness in which I wander. I nonetheless welcome any estranged republicans; may the desert treat you well as it has me. The essential lesson to be learned here, so far as I can tell, is that political power is ephemeral. One may seek it, and it only, but if one wishes to have loyalty to any principles, at some point, power must be forfeited in their defense. It is thus of the utmost importance that one examine which principles are worth sacrificing in the all-consuming pursuit of power, and those for which one will not trade a thing in the world.

The problem is not just that such an examination is unlikely to be made by the populace, nor even their leaders. It is that conservatism, so-called, has become so utterly divorced from the realm of ideas that only a select few will be able to begin making their way back. Specifically, the party seems content to babble incessantly in the hopes of conjuring up “the next Reagan”. But like Joe the plumber, Reagan has become a symbol for a half-mythical conservative past. At this point, the poor president has become a tired cliché, beaten to death by talk show hosts and pundits. Repeating his witticisms is amusing, but hardly edifying. If there is anything to be gained from Reagan, it will require diligent and critical study of the man's thought and his record. Paeans to conservative saints are unlikely to prove propitious to those who don't share the faith.

The GOP might be better served by letting The Gipper lie. Conservatism extends back much further than 1980, and it also draws from deeper waters. Keeping platitudes always at the ready might be a good trick for a caller to a talk show, but a principled defense, say, of limited government, requires a solid philosophical foundation, not to be found on an Internet quotations page.

It is difficult to defend a party that only seems to have found an opposition to government spending when their own filthy hands no longer write the checks. It isn't hard to discern, after all, that a seven hundred billion dollar “stimulus” will tend to increase the size of government. One cannot escape the conclusion that they have absolutely no idea what role government should play in our society. It just might be time they figured that out.

Economic nonsense

When he finally takes office, look for a big old bailout from Barry:

At least as designed, the Obama plan, like a calibrated drug regimen, aims to deliver both short- and long-term relief.

The short-term help would flow partly from tax cuts of $1,000 for couples and $500 for individuals,costing about $140 billion over 2009-2010. The Obama team, said two congressional Democratic aides familiar with the discussions, will likely deliver those tax cuts by reducing the tax withheld from paychecks.

This would put more money in paychecks, unlike the lump-sum rebates issued earlier this year. Many people used those to pay down debt, rather than spending them as the administration had hoped.

In addition, states would get up to $200 billion over two years for Medicaid health coverage for the poor and to narrow state budget gaps, which are forcing layoffs and cuts in services. The aides spoke on the condition of anonymity to candidly discuss the evolving plan.

Throwing money at the problem to solve it. That'll work.

It's frustrating to see that the "do something" crowd is given the benefit of the doubt, no matter how silly their plan. The correct response by the government during an economic crisis is to do nothing, or perhaps cut taxes and reduce spending. This is precisely the thing government is least likely to do.

When the bailouts and the stimulus checks fail to stimulate the economy, the powers that be will be excused on the grounds that they couldn't sit idly by while the economy was in crisis. And they will be forgiven, even though government action causes and exacerbates the very crisis they were ostensibly attempting to eradicate.

You won't read this in the article, of course. Our supposedly skeptical journalists are either too ignorant of economics or just too wrapped up in their belief that the government will save the day to doubt the efficacy of stimulus and bailouts. This is to be expected. But the article contains a line so preposterous that we must be amazed that no eyebrows were raised when such an incredulity was printed:

For each $1 invested in infrastructure spending, about $1.60 in economic activity would be generated, according to estimates by some economists.

If I told you that I knew a way for you to make sixty percent returns on your investment, you would wonder whether I was smoking crack or if I had merely stumbled upon a Ponzi scheme. With the help of some funny math, the stock market promises returns of ten percent, but anything approaching sixty percent is unheard of. And yet, there it is, smack dab in the middle of the article, without the accompaniment of a hysterical laugh, even a parenthetical one.

If infrastructure spending really made such stupendous returns, we would be wise to invest all of our spending in infrastructure, economic crisis or no. Why, if we simply devoted all of our money to infrastructure, we could grow the GDP by sixty percent.

The reality is these numbers are completely inaccurate. Every dollar invested in infrastructure must come from somewhere. These dollars are taken from the private sector; ignoring the inefficiencies of government bureaucracies, the net result is, at best, a replacement of private sector employees with those who work for the government. And this overly optimistic view depends on the infrastructure being invested productively, and not, say, on bridges to nowhere.

Since the government is far less efficient than the private sector, increasing government spending in the midst of a recession is a profoundly stupid thing to do. Only a return to normalcy in the private sector will end the recession; every attempt to squeeze it only puts off the day on which normalcy shall return.

It'd be nice if journalists expressed some familiarity with this theory. In the meantime, I'll settle for skepticism toward obviously exaggerations.

Onward empire

The president-elect is looking to surge in Afghanistan:

The top U.S. military officer said Saturday that the Pentagon could double the number of American forces in Afghanistan by next summer to 60,000 - the largest estimate of potential reinforcements ever publicly suggested.

There's a really good article in this week's American Conservative that discusses the three far more important policy changes, commonly attributed to the surge, that have seemingly caused a reversal of fortunes in Iraq in the last year or so. It's worth a read, but it's important to remember that even if policy and tactical changes in Iraq momentarily reduced American causalities, we are nowhere near the goal of making Iraqi into a democratic republic.

In other news, the president-elect is backpedaling on his promise to bring our troops home from Iraq:

A new military plan for troop withdrawals from Iraq that was described in broad terms this week to President-elect Barack Obama falls short of the 16-month timetable Mr. Obama outlined during his election campaign, United States military officials said Wednesday.

Well, at least they won't be there for one hundred years.

Obama sure seems hellbent on backstabbing his supporters. Especially impressing is the speed and forthrightness with which it is taking place. He's not even in office yet and we're seeing a complete capitulation on the foreign policy front.

This isn't surprising; if you have a memory that is capable of retaining information of more than the past president, you'll recall that the democrats--Carter excepted--have traditionally been hawkish. And although Obama was against the war in Iraq, he's never expressed a commitment to avoid aggressive war. Iraq was the wrong war, but not necessarily for moral reasons; another war--say in Pakistan--might be a good one.

It will be very interesting to see if there is a significant backlash from the antiwar left against Obama when it becomes apparent that the wars aren't going to end. I'm not holding my breath, but I'll still be paying some attention.

Worth mentioning, too, is that because we're in the midst of a rather large recession, it may become difficult for Obama to justify the costs of empire. So argues Pat Buchanan; and though I'm hopeful that he is correct, I fear that the war lobby will be powerful enough to keep most of the empire in tact.

State of the state

High and Dry sends me a link to an amusing piece from Reason:

We are in fact living at the cusp of what should be called the Libertarian Moment, the dawning not of some fabled, clichéd, and loosey-goosey Age of Aquarius but a time of increasingly hyper-individualized, hyper-expanded choice over every aspect of our lives, from 401(k)s to hot and cold running coffee drinks, from life-saving pharmaceuticals to online dating services. This is now a world where it’s more possible than ever to live your life on your own terms; it’s an early rough draft version of the libertarian philosopher Robert Nozick’s glimmering “utopia of utopias.” Due to exponential advances in technology, broad-based increases in wealth, the ongoing networking of the world via trade and culture, and the decline of both state and private institutions of repression, never before has it been easier for more individuals to chart their own course and steer their lives by the stars as they see the sky. If you don’t believe it, ask your gay friends, or simply look who’s running for the White House in 2008.

I'm reading--and quite enjoying--Nozick, butI can't seem to figure out how his "minimal state" even vaguely resembles the leviathan in Washington. Granted that the proliferation of technology in a somewhat capitalist society confronts the individual with a variety of choices, libertarianism is primarily concerned with the relationship between an individual and the State, which is likely to violate the individual's rights. The State remains strong. Too strong.

Singling out the gays and Obama is curious, too. Gay marriage isn't a fundamental right since it has been summoned from the abyss by the State; increased cultural acceptance of homosexuality, on the other hand, may be a liberation, but it is difficult to attribute this to Governmental forces. Likewise with Obama. Blacks haven't been disqualified from running for political office for sometime now; it is, instead and yet again, cultural change--coupled with a very pathetic Republican candidate--that has elevated a black man to the highest office in the land.

More importantly, "living life on your own terms" is still rather difficult to do. If you work hard to become moderately successful, the government will take upwards of a third of your income to give it to someone "less fortunate". Moreover, even these will have to pay; for under our economic system, which is difficult to opt out of, one is forced to use fiat currency. Inflated regularly by the Federal Reserve, this funny money exacts a tax, in the form of decreased purchasing power, upon everyone who uses it.

Since the authors are speaking of a "rough draft" of Nozick, I think it's unfair to suggest they believe we are living in some sort of libertarian paradise. But they do think that such an idea is not only plausible, it is likely--and in the short term. Perhaps this is so, though I severely doubt it. The essential point here is that we have a very long way to go yet.

I take umbrage, too, with their thoughts about what libertarianism means, and the victories we have, apparently, won:

The Libertarian Moment is based on a few hard-won insights that have grown into a fragile but enduring consensus in the ever-expanding free world. First is the notion that, all things being equal, markets are the best way to organize an economy and unleash the means of production (and its increasingly difficult-to-distinguish adjunct, consumption). Second is that at least vaguely representative democracy, and the political freedom it almost always strengthens, is the least worst form of government (a fact that even recalcitrant, anti-modern regimes in Islamabad, Tehran, and Berkeley grudgingly acknowledge in at least symbolic displays of pluralism). Both points seem almost banal now, but were under constant attack during the days of the Soviet Union, and are still subject to wobbly confidence any time capitalist dictatorships like China seem to grow ascendant in a time of domestic economic woe. Though every dip in the Dow makes the professional amnesiacs of cable TV and the finance pages turn in the direction of Mao, there is no going back to the Great Leap Forward.

The first point is solid, though I offer a caveat and a criticism. Even if Central Planning were superior to capitalism in regards to the organization of the markets--of course, we know that they are not--capitalism is still to be preferred because it respects property rights in ways State planning cannot. My only criticism is that I don't think people necessarily accept the superior efficiency produced by a free market, to say nothing of its greater respect for property rights. If people believed the market was superior, there would be no clamoring for bailouts. No entity is large enough or secure enough to prevent anything else from failing forever; history is replete with the rotten carcasses of nation states and empires who were once thought too big to fail. A few corporations may collapse during this present recession, but only the attempt to save the whole mess will destroy the present State--which is almost a shame.

The second point is less valid. The centrality of the libertarian's argument is that the State must be small so that man may be free. Voting doesn't even enter into this except insofar as it may be argued that a representative republic will best secure the blessings of liberty. I find this notion to be exceedingly dubious. One of the great flaws of the present system is that, since the people believe themselves to be responsible for their leaders, they will continue to work through the ballot box to effect change. This is a waste of time and energy as both parties are antithetical to the principles of liberty and limited government for which the libertarian stands.

In addition, the authors ought to ask themselves: if libertarianism is growing in popularity, shouldn't we see liberties being returned to the people as more and more libertarian minded folks attain representation in Government? If not, either libertarianism is still largely a fringe movement--I think it is--or democracy is not necessarily the best way to ensure that the State respects individuals' rights.

Also, while I sincerely hope there is no going back to the Great Leap Forward, as long as the recent economic crisis can be blamed on the failures of capitalism, socialism will attract a fair number of adherents. After all, it simply has not been implemented correctly--at least not yet. Should a totalitarian regime arise again--and I see nothing to suggest that this is a fundamental impossibility--another Great Leap Forward is quite plausible, and far more likely than a development of authentic socialism, whatever that is.

The writers go on to discuss the role played by the Internet in the coming libertarian revolt:

The ne plus ultra change agent as we lurch through the finish line of yet another electoral contest between our 19th century political parties is the revolutionary, break-it-down-and-build-it-back-up power of the Internet, and all the glorious creative destruction it enables at the expense of lumbering gatekeepers and to the benefit of empowered individuals. No single entity in the history of mankind has been so implicitly and explicitly libertarian: a tax-free distributed network and alternative universe where individuals, usually without effective interference from government, can reshape their identities, transcend limitations of family, geography, and culture. It’s a place where freaks and geeks and regular folks can pool their intelligence and compete (even win!) against entities thousands of times their size.

The generation raised on the Internet has essentially been raised libertarian, even if they’ve never even heard of the word. Native netizens now entering college exhibit a kind of broad-based tolerance toward every manner of ethnic, religious, and sexual-orientation grouping in a way that would have seemed like science fiction just a generation ago. The products and activities they enjoy and co-opt most, from filesharing to flying discount airlines to facebooking, are excrescences of the free-market ideas of deregulation and decontrol. Generations X, Y, and those even younger swim in markets—that is, in choices among competing alternatives—the way those of us who grew up in the ’70s frolicked on Slip ’n Slides.

This is probably the most intriguing part of the article. The Internet is conducive to libertarian thought; witness Ron Paul's presence, far outweighing his actual support in polls not conducted on the information superhighway. But it is also open to Government control. Take Facebook, which I begrudgingly use. The social networking tool is useful to those who log-on to message friends; but it also provides, well, anyone, with a cornucopia of information about a person: who he hangs out with, and where; what he looks like and what he likes. Most concerning is that all of this information is provided by the participants themselves without any poking or prodding by Orwellian forces.

It would be hypocritical of anyone who spends as much time using it as I do to bash the Internet. It has its flaws, certainly, but it provides many benefits; in any event an analysis of the pros and cons of the Internet is best dealt with elsewhere. The salient point is that it is still too early to say that the Internet won't be controlled by the State. It is also worth mentioning that, while it allows for open discussion of issues and ideas not mentioned by traditional media outlets, all of this seems to mean little in the long run. After all, look at the recent Statist in the White House.

Liberty is too popular an idea for libertarianism to ever fade entirely. But it does no good to pretend that it is more popular than it actually is. True, from certain vantage points, things are looking up a bit. Yet we still live in a country with a massive Government and an Empire almost as large. There are still minds aplenty who remained unconvinced that "government is best which governs least." There is also the political battle, and that hardly even begun.

Not dead yet

Naturally, the latest economic collapse is proof that the free market must be regulated, that the lack of regulation was the cause of collapse, and that, anyway, libertarianism is dead. Writes Jacob Weisberg of Slate:

We have narrowly avoided a global depression and are mercifully pointed toward merely the worst recession in a long while. This is thanks to a global economic meltdown made possible by libertarian ideas. I don't have much patience with the notion that trying to figure out how we got into this mess is somehow unacceptably vicious and pointless—Sarah Palin's view of global warming. As with any failure, inquest is central to improvement. And any competent forensic work has to put the libertarian theory of self-regulating financial markets at the scene of the crime.

Ignoring the fact that we have not avoided a global depression, having merely postponed it, I have no idea what libertarian ideas he's talking about. This isn't a matter of pragmatically ditching Bush and the Republicans now that the economy has gone sour; that alliance had been jettisoned long ago, back when it became clear that Bush's “compassionate conservatism” was hard to distinguish from big government liberalism. What Weisberg means, I think, is that the market was unregulated, and still managed to get all screwed up anyway. The basic flaw with this analysis is that it is untrue. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, for instance, were regulated by 200 government bureaucrats; these dutifully looked the other way instead of doing their job.

There is another rather large flaw in his attempts to pin the meltdown on libertarians—as if a group with such insignificant power and influence could ever do such a thing. Libertarians, or at least the Austrian economists among us, believe firmly that fiat currency, liable to inflation at the whim of a central bank, undermines the market: indeed, Ludwig von Mises blames this inflation for generating the business cycle. When Weisberg writes that: “the libertarian apologetics fall wildly short of providing any convincing explanation for what went wrong” he is completely mistaken. Libertarians have such a theory, which is more than can be said, say, of the neo-Keynesians. Moreover, the Federal Reserve has been inflating the currency—though they hide this fact, at least partially, by calculating the CPI in a dishonest fashion—which would seem to serve to vindicate von Mises. At the very least, it is patently absurd to argue that a crisis anticipated by a fair number of libertarians undermines their very existence.

The basic flaw behind all of this clamoring for more regulation is that it fails to understand the relationship between Big Business and Government. Most people seem to believe that the relationship is a fundamentally antagonistic one; but it is not so. As Patrick Denseen writes in the November 17th issue of The American Conservative:

The mortgage crisis has highlighted the tight bonds between a large central government and large centers of financial power... At least now we have seen the end of the idea that there is some fundamental antipathy between big government and big business.

Weisberg has apparently drawn a different conclusion from recent events. It's difficult to see why. The nepotism of the Bush administration was so extensive and flagrant that it is hard to see how anyone could have missed the obvious lesson: Government may chose to reward its minions in the private sector and vice versa. As Cheney was hooking up his pals at Haliburton with the spoils of our Iraqi misadventure, was it really surprising that other areas of the bureaucracy were likewise engaged in allowing their cronies to benefit from the hands who held the reigns of power?

The reasons I support the free market are twofold. First, a generally unregulated market respects property rights. Regulation undermines these rights, primarily, by telling me what I can and cannot do with my property, and secondarily, by taxing me to provide for those who violate my rights. The larger the bureaucracy, the more frequent and obtrusive will be the violations. Second, prices must be either dictated by central planners, or allowed to fluctuate as per the invisible hand of the market. The folly of central planning was demonstrated by the Soviet Union, even as the central planners of the Socialists in Washington decide who to bailout and who to let fail, and what stipulations the former must endure.

Libertarianism will continue to make sense as long as humans remain fallible. If men were omniscient angels, we could trust them to plan the way the entire economy worked. But absent these elusive attributes, it is wise to keep power from concentrating too greatly in too few hands.

The Recovery of the Catholic Apologetic

This was a "talk" I put together some time back that never materialized. Since it's been written, I figured I may as well post it here. Enjoy.

The title of my talk comes from a book written by Hilaire Belloc titled Survivals and the New Arrivals. Though penned in 1929, it is as prescient as ever. I do not know how many of you are familiar with the man and his work. Much of it is, regrettably, out of print, although his influence, not only on Roman Catholics, but on much of the English speaking world, was, and is, profound. Historian Jacques Barzun, in his marvelous From Dawn to Decadence, notes: "In England during the decade before the war, the quartet who stirred the reading public into thinking were Wells, Chesterton, Belloc, and Shaw." (p. 683) Unlike Chesterton, Belloc was a cradle Catholic, and a fairly militant one. He spent a good deal of time and ink seeking to rectify the biased Protestantism that dominated much of written history. He is a masterful writer, both of prose and poetry, and is too infrequently read; nonetheless, his appeal will be chiefly to Catholics who are already certain of their Faith.

There is a good reason for this. Apologetics does not imply an apology; the word is derived from the Greek apologia, which means defense. Unfortunately, the apologetics of those who have only known the Faith can come across as an attack, and lack the tact and charity without which the most brilliant exposition for the Faith sounds like “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal”, in St. Paul's phrase. This is not to say that converts always make excellent apologists, anymore than cradle Catholics may be wholly insufficient to the task. Instead, while his unique experience doesn't prevent the convert from identifying with “born Catholics”, it allows the outsider to empathize more readily with him. Theoretically speaking, the “born Catholic” may only be defending the prejudices with which he entered the world, but the convert is a different animal entirely, and cannot be as easily brushed aside.

Arguably the most influential of the modern Christian apologists is C.S. Lewis. His Mere Christianity is still widely read, as well it should be; and while the appellation of the adjective is appropriate given the subject matter of the work, it is also a bit frustrating. Any work which advances the cause of Christianity is to be applauded, but it must be admitted that the idea of mere Christianity makes little sense to those who belong to a Church who claims fullness of truth. Though he never became a Catholic, the great apologist was prodigiously influenced by at least two members of the Roman Church: his friend and literary acquaintance J.R.R. Tolkien, and G.K. Chesterton. The latter's The Everlasting Man, written as a reaction to Wells's Outline of History, presented a cogent case for Christ to Lewis, and to many others.

Chesterton deserves much credit as an apologist—his book Orthodoxy helped me come back to the Faith—and is probably the only one who can rival Lewis himself, not only in ability, but in influence. There is something of a Chestertonian revival going on presently, led by the charmingly obsessive Dale Ahlquist, president of The American Chesterton Society, and buttressed by people like Joseph Pearce, a modern biographer, not only of Chesterton, but of Belloc, Lewis, Tolkien, Shakespeare, and even Oscar Wilde. Ignatius Press, which puts out a number of wonderful books, is currently reprinting all of Chesterton's collected works, ensuring that another generation can enjoy the wit and wisdom of “the apostle of common sense”, in Ahlquist's phrase.

Although Chesterton and Belloc wrote some novels, with the exception of Chesterton's excellent The Man Who Was Thursday, their non-fiction—and their poetry—was of higher literary merit. There is often an implicit assumption that apologetics must be works of non-fiction; but I am not certain that this is that case. While a well-reasoned defense of the faith can be propitious, a story which, though it may deal with things that never actually happened, nonetheless confirms a Catholic truth may work just as well—or perhaps even better. We will examine the reasoning for this a little later.

But first, to give an illustration of what I may mean, we have already mentioned J.R.R. Tolkien. A fact which is too little appreciated by those who read The Lord of the Rings is that it was, in the words of its author, "a fundamentally religious and Catholic work". The fertile imagination of Tolkien was directed at and stimulated by Jesus Christ; the careful reader should be able to detect this in his masterpiece.

I will briefly give just two more examples. The Roman Catholic poet Francis Thompson is best known for his poem, “The Hound of Heaven.” It should be read more often. Thompson, who was an opium addict, was well aware of suffering, and the poem describes vividly God's pursuit of man's soul, as man struggles to fend Him off. It is at once a frightening and wonderful poem, with which any sinner may readily identify.

Another English fellow, the novelist Evelyn Waugh, himself a Catholic convert who was influenced—yes, by Chesterton—wrote a number of excellent books. Brideshead Revisited is perhaps his best; it happens to be my favorite work of fiction. It is also a thoroughly Catholic novel. Like Flannery O'Connor, Waugh illuminates God's grace, working almost imperceptibly throughout the background of his novel, as the characters find themselves making their way slowly toward Him. Writing about conversion is just as difficult to do in fiction; Waugh's accomplishment lies in the authenticity of the experiences of his characters. Here are real people, being pursued, albeit subtly, by the loving hound of heaven.

So far I have merely traced an incomplete outline of some of the Catholic apologists of the twentieth century. At the very least, I should like you all to come out of this talk with an increased knowledge in the subject matter; I sincerely hope you all read Belloc and Chesterton—and Waugh. If they should aid you in your faith journey, as they have me in mine, I shall count this talk a success. Indeed, hearkening back to St. Francis of Assisi who counseled us to “preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary used words,” the influence of apologists may be most pronounced as it causes those already convinced to become more steadfast, with increased charity, in their Faith. In this way, the Church may be known by the love which we have for one another. All are not called to apologetics, any more than all are called to the consecrated life, but anyone should be able to benefit from them, in one of their varied forms.

We turn now to a bit of a personal application. While no one would deny that all men long for God, no one likes to be preached at. I do not suggest that all of you go running out of here handing out apologetic tomes. In your conversations with non-believers, you may find the time to reference a work of apologetics you have read; it may even be good to recommend a book. Overtly apologetic tomes have the potential to produce the most fruit, but it does no good to scatter seeds unless the ground is fertile for growth. On the other hand, recommending a novel or a poem which is written by someone who happens to be Catholic may prove more beneficial than we would suspect. While not everyone needs to read all of Chesterton, there is little excuse for literate people avoiding Evelyn Waugh.

Those of you who know me are perhaps aware that my outlook on life is largely polemical, and occasionally obnoxiously so. I argue both because I enjoy it immensely and because it is one of the most effective ways I have found at arriving nearer the truth. A friend and I were once engaged in a discussion about the beliefs of the ancient Greeks and Romans, and how his youth pastor had been wholly unable to answer his question about why the pagans were wrong. St. Augustine handles this beautifully in the first two parts of The City of God, but, being aware of this at the time, I recommended to him The Everlasting Man. He pronounced it good but unconvincing, and expressed no interest in discussing the matter further.

This is perhaps the most frustrating thing, not only to the apologist, but to those of us who rely on their work. Once inside the Church, one begins to study the multitudinous treasures which She has secured for two thousand years. Almost any question one may have has not only been asked, but it has been thought on—and answered. The Catholic Church possesses a complete philosophy for man; thus a Catholic can go about reinforcing his views to better equip himself to combat the modern world. In my mind, The Everlasting Man demonstrated best what was suggested by hundreds of other influences in my journey. It would be unreasonable to suggest that one exposition of a fraction of the Church's philosophy would be enough to convert a man. The only thing more unreasonable would be to suggest that he attempt to experience all that we ourselves have; for though all roads lead to Rome, we often travel there on diverse routes. God alone knows the human heart, and the process by which He calls souls to Himself often strikes us as strange—or worse. As Job says, “I have dealt with great things that I do not understand; things too wonderful for me, which I cannot know.” (Job 42:3) But like Job we can take comfort in the fact that, though we are often estranged from the way of the Lord, He very much knows what He is doing.

As with my friend, the effect of apologetics is rarely overt conversion. Instead, good apologetics paints the Church in a truer light, forcing the reexamination of a previously accepted falsehood concerning Her. In the previously mentioned The Catholic Church and Conversion, Chesterton discusses the “three stages of conversion”. In paraphrased form, first the convert wishes to treat the Church fairly, to discover out who She really is. Often he is still opposed to Her, but his intellectual honestly leads him to disbelieve falsehood directed at the Church. For instance, he may hear that the age in which the Church ruled were the Dark Ages—only the Dark Ages never existed as he thinks they did. And anyway, how dark could an age be that produced the Gothic cathedral and the awe-inspiring poetry of Dante? In the second stage, he begins to see that the Church does contain some truth. Perhaps the poetry of Dante suggests the common sense theology of St. Thomas Aquinas. Perhaps the Just War Doctrine of St. Augustine allows him to make sense of the awful conflict in Iraq.

The third stage Chesterton describes as the most terrible. He writes, “It is impossible to be just to the Catholic Church. The moment men cease to pull against it they feel a tug towards it. The moment they cease to shout it down they begin to listen to it with pleasure. The moment they try to be fair to it they begin to be fond of it.” (Collected Works Volume III, G.K. Chesterton, p. 92) I think it true that once one arrives at this stage, there is no more for the apologist to do. At this final point, each man must confront God; it is the goal of the apologist to move the almost-convert to that point.

Now, a few things are required to get there. First, a certain degree of intellectual honesty is required on the part of the non-believer. When reading Richard Dawkins's The God Delusion, I was impressed by two things: first, his faith in things far less reasonable than the Resurrection—from the infallibility of the incompetent Sam Harris to the certitude with which he holds the highly dubious claims of Darwin and his disciples—and second, his ability to arrogantly defeat the claims of Christianity based on caricatures. Nonetheless, the popularity of the books written by not only Dawkins and Harris, but also Daniel Dennett and Christopher Hitchens, to say nothing of the irate and woefully ignorant minions that faun over every pronouncement of the so-called New Atheists, suggests that there is a good deal of work for apologists to do.

A number of Christians have risen to the challenge. Since I was so unimpressed by Dawkins's work, I neglected to read any of the other books by his fellow atheists; and I have only read one of the responses to their books: The Irrational Atheist by Vox Day, which, in addition to being rather good, is also available without charge on the author's blog. Some of the books, like Day's, such as Answering the New Atheism: Dismantling Dawkins' Case Against God, written by the Catholic apologist Scott Hahn, aren't defenses of Christianity at all; instead, they deal with specific arguments of the new atheists, who are almost as sloppy with logic as they are ignorant of Christianity. Others, like Dinesh D'Souza's What's So Great About Christianity, and a number of Lee Strobel's books, are closer to the works of Chesterton and Lewis, both in subject and tone. The New Atheists have remained nonplussed, as have many of their followers; Dawkins denigrates anyone who writes a book in reaction to his as a flea and ignores him completely.

Still, it seems that the New Atheists have gotten a good deal more than they bargained for. Although this may come as a surprise to Christopher Hitchens, he was utterly decimated in his debate with Dinesh D'Souza. And while Dawkins can insist that he has no need to debate the man who ousted Hitchens, one strongly suspects cowardice on the part of the Archbishop of Oxford.

Most of the reactionary books have received far less attention than have the five which started the recent fiasco, but the combination of the unimpressive performances by the New Atheists—with the partial exception of Daniel Dennet if Day is to believed—and the far more substantial case presented by the defenders of Christianity should turn the tide against the latest wave of atheism, and allow for the possibility of conversion.

More importantly, as both Chesterton and Belloc pointed out long ago, atheism is but a way station on the weary road back to paganism. This is a point that is too little appreciated by those who follow these sorts of things, and merits some detailed exposition. One of the first things that one notices about atheists, at least of those who bother to write books or hang around blogs talking about it, is that their atheism does not really stem from a skepticism towards the evidence presented to them about why God exists. They will insist otherwise of course, but their comments betray this too well; the claim of not enough evidence is enough to make one agnostic—a perfectly reasonable position which Chesterton claims is the natural attitude of man—but militant atheism is always a reaction against something in the religion they have rejected.

Rebellion in adolescence seems to be a partially pathetic phase through which most people pass. But after rebelling to exert one's independence, hopefully one grows up to become a mature adult; it is the height of irresponsibility to be forever engaged in rebellion for its own sake. The atheist eventually must cease rebelling against his former faith and embrace some set of beliefs, however he derives them, about the world and his place in it. If he does not return to Christianity, he will probably lapse back into paganism.

Now, by paganism I don't mean the Greek and Roman gods and all of the beliefs that concern them. I primarily mean “natural religion acting upon man uncorrected by revelation” (Survivals and the New Arrivals, p.133) as Belloc puts it. This usually means, first, sexual license. The new pagans won't put out anything coherent in the way of philosophy or ethics; they'll remain essentially parasitic, taking what they like about the Judeo-Christian ethic, and removing all of that nasty stuff about suppressing one's desires. They will also add, because man cannot live without it, a widely implausible myth, or series of myths. For instance, they will insist that we are poisoning the earth, and that we need to take drastic measures to save her. Moreover, because such a myth does not depend on reason, it will invariably fall on government—that is, force—to compel men to partake in the new creed.

Here enters The Opportunity, of which Belloc speaks, and at which my long and rambling talk was directed. Unless it summons much better spokesmen, thinking people will reject the claims of the New Atheists. They will then pass over to a variety of mostly silly—but by no means necessarily innocuous—forms of paganism. Now, the Church has converted the pagans before, so it's possible that She could do it again. But whereas the old pagans understood that without revelation, man could not save himself, and thus were receptive to the new religion, today's pagans will have a preconceived notion in their heads whenever they hear Christianity mentioned. This makes the task substantially more difficult.

The role of the Catholic apologist, I think, it to present as thorough a case as possible for a religion which is in no way inimical to reason. Our case is harmed by a number of things. As always, the misbehavior of Christians is a determent to conversion; one cannot, I think, overestimate the effects of the priest scandal and the subsequent cover-up by cowardly bishops, though one may add, as an edifying postscript, that Benedict XVI has addressed it, and seems to be making progress. Second, and ironically, the champions of reason, like Dawkins, are rather lacking in this particular department; and while it behooves us to present a logical case, it is unlikely to be appreciated in an intellectual atmosphere such as ours. We can hope that, as the prophets of secularism plunge headlong into unreason, the Church stands out as a bastion of light and truth, as it did in the barbaric world it once conquered, and which, in due time, it shall conquer again.