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16 Aug
0

Nominalism

The differences between Christian theology and the philosophical foundations of the modern world cannot be starker. With Saint Thomas Aquinas, Aristotelian Christianity asserted that human beings are real beings with a substance or nature and that nature has a purpose or end built into it. This teleological universe, and we as part of it, is intelligible and intrinsically ordered. There were some in theology who adhered to a nominalist understanding of the universe and who questioned the Thomistic tradition. Prime examples are William of Ockham and later some in the Protestant tradition who sought to vindicate divine sovereignty and freedom. All order in the universe, they held, is extrinsic from the rambling chaos of matter. God imposes a given order but could have imposed another. God willed a given order but that order is extrinsic, only found in Him. His will overcomes reason. Such nominalism was introduced into politics by way of an extreme adherence to human freedom. Just as God was free to impose an order into chaos, individuals are free to impose an order into society and into their own lives. If will overcomes reason, freedom in political life should reign, they surmised.

 


Now, as Professor Mathew Berry tells us, “political nominalism provides a stronger foundation for brutal imperialism and fascism than it does for good government.” The reason is that only Aristotelian Christianity can tell us what freedom in the political order is for, because the teleological nature of social reality constrains the impulse to freely determine it from the outside. As Berry tells us, if we cannot say what freedom is for, we can only curtail it when it infringes the rights of others—the famous harm principle. (Mathew Berry, “Nominalism, Nihilism, and Modern Politics” Public Discourse, June 23, 2021.)


If the order in the universe is imposed and the order in civil society is also imposed and ruled by freedom and will, not by reason, any talk of human rights is not intelligible. Modernity just needs to deny any specifics of a divine command and impose their own, but these are all imposed commands, not natural realities discovered. From a divine command imposed to a human secular command imposed there is but a short leap. Moreover, the rationale for respecting your freedom disappears. We become what Sartre called us, beasts to the other. Or, as his lover Simone de Beauvoir said, over the brute fact of silent and unintelligible matter, “social law” reigns.


From absolute divine power to impose His “universal law” over nature to the power of the ruler to impose his will over society there is a leap but in the same horizon. As Cardinal Ratzinger puts it, obsession with freedom leads to the tyranny of the stronger. What is decadence or malice if all is social law imposed through the triumph of the will? This triumph slipped—slightly at first—upon the slopes of nominalist denials of the Aristotelian doctrine of essence. It is no mystery that modern philosophy and modern political theory began to distrust the doctrine of essence when given the idea that they had the power of reshaping humanity, society, and reality itself within the grasp of their desires and will moved forward through power.


Why not rearrange the furniture of existence if we can? If freedom is the ability to act according to what our passions demand, why not do it? Why remain entrapped within discussions of what is the ultimate end of things when the ultimate end is our freedom? If we are, as Beauvoir told us, “freedoms”?

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16 Aug
0

God Gives Life

It’s no secret—though perhaps it hasn’t yet gotten the attention it deserves—that suicide rates have been skyrocketing among young people in the United States. What can be done to reverse this appalling trend? Social, professional, and familial interventions are valuable and should be continued, for in such a crisis an “all of the above” approach is reasonable. But the ultimate solution can only be found in a reacquaintance with the transcendent end of the human person.

Even before the pandemic, from 2007 to 2018, the rate of suicide among people aged 10 to 24 rose nearly 60 percent. The stress and social isolation brought about by COVID-19 and the societal response to it increased the risk of self-harm across the board, but the spike was most pronounced in the youngest age groups.

A recent issue of the alumni magazine from the University of Pennsylvania addressed the problem at that school. From 2013 to 2017, fourteen Penn students took their own lives. Intensifying the alarm, in 2019, the executive director of the university’s counseling service—the main institutional means for attacking the problem—committed suicide. Students have initiated their own groups and programs, many of them led by students who have struggled with their own self-destructive temptations.

Kudos to the Penn community for bringing the problem into the light of day and to students for taking the initiative in seeking solutions. There seems to be widespread recognition among the activists that there is no single, easy answer to this distressing yet perennial human tragedy. Yet they also recognize that we ought to do what we can to minimize the threat. To that end, they correctly identify one of the chief causes of suicidal thoughts: loneliness.

One of the student leaders, drawing on a 2018 survey, calls the current crop of young people “the loneliest generation.” Paradoxically, the loneliest generation grew up with the technological means to communicate with more people more constantly than ever before in history. But “social” media, it turns out, are not as beneficial as they were cracked up to be. The inverse relationship between self-esteem and the use of social media is now widely understood.

Again, though, the problem is not monocausal, and so the solution is not as simple as minimizing or avoiding social media. Social contact with others (physical rather than virtual) does not eliminate the risk. Penn’s victims of suicide were surrounded by fellow students in dormitories, in class, and in social settings. Some of them were far from socially isolated; they were popular and successful. To be a Penn student is itself a mark of success: the Ivy League school admits fewer than 10 percent of its applicants, and Penn graduates on average earn about three times the national media income. Something other than lack of achievement or good prospects is at work. Even seemingly popular and successful people can be pathologically lonely and depressed.

The Penn stories and the experience of others in this area demonstrate that social connection is key. Often it is a personal relationship—sometimes a single instance of reaching out by a friend or acquaintance—that makes the difference between life and death. This is why involvement in social institutions such as clubs, athletics, and churches, is an important means of preventing the severe isolation that provides fertile ground for suicidal thoughts.

But there is something else. Even healthy families and social organizations can be inadequate in the maintenance of a healthy view of self. Parents and siblings; ministers, rabbis, and imams; teachers, friends, and classmates can all let you down. There is one, however, who will not. The psalmist sings, “To God, the Lord, belongs escape from death” (68:20). The truth of the human person is that we are created in God’s image, that he loves us unconditionally, and that we are destined for eternal life with him.

Churches are therefore crucial not merely as social institutions but even more as preservers and conveyors of the truth about God and man. It is no coincidence that a decline in religious belief and practice—especially among youth—has occurred in correlation with a rise in suicide—especially among youth. Without a transcendent source of faith, hope, and love, we are left with the material world as the provider of those inherent and essential human ideals. The good that the world supplies may seem like enough to sustain us, but it is in fact insufficient, and this insufficiency can become unbearable in times of intense challenge.

Only the indestructible security of divine faith is a sure safeguard against the temptation to see ourselves as less than we are. “Come, let us return to the Lord” (Hos 6:1), “and you will find rest for your souls” (Mt 11:29), for “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:10).

 

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16 Aug
0

Ford Foundation’s aim to ‘change philanthropy’ warps the true meaning of ‘justice’ and ‘generosity’

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Justice and charity are the duty of all – and are intimately related – but a redefinition of philanthropy that collapses the distinction between them serves neither.

The Ford Foundation gives over $500 million dollars annually, mostly in grants, to nonprofit organizations around the world. Foundation President Darren Walker came from humble beginnings in rural Texas and now oversees the Foundation’s $15 billion endowment. In his recent and wide-ranging 60 Minutes interview with Lesley Stahl he makes the case for reimaging philanthropy as not primarily about giving aid but rendering justice. Justice and charity are the duty of all – and are intimately related – but a redefinition of philanthropy that collapses the distinction between them serves neither.

Walker begins to make his case in an idiosyncratic manner. He distinguishes between generosity and justice, not as goods or virtues in themselves, but in the emotional and intellectual states of donors:

“Generosity actually is more about the donor, right? So when you give money to help a homeless person, you feel good. Justice is a deeper engagement where you are actually asking, “What are the systemic reasons that put people out onto the streets?” Generosity makes the donor feel good. Justice implicates the donor.”

Read full article HERE

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22 Mar
0

The Savior Temptation

End Hunger. No More War. Save the Planet. In a world of grand causes, there is a constant temptation to inflate our own importance. The temptation is especially dangerous for those who are genuinely well-meaning and of good will. Trying to make the world a better place is a praiseworthy goal; we should all be doing it. But there is a danger that our zeal to effect change on the world stage, where we have little real control, will blind us to the need to help closer to home. Few of us are in positions to make decisions about whether nations go to war, but all of us have the opportunity to promote peace among our own family and friends. We shouldn’t let a focus on purportedly world-changing crusades distract us from what matters most in the immediate sphere of our own responsibility and influence.

In its extreme form, the attempt to arrogate to oneself the authority to bring about massive good is considered a psychological disorder: the Messiah complex. But the tendency to neglect our daily duties—where we can have real impact—in favor of flashier activities is something everyone needs to guard against.

The twentieth-century southern writer Flannery O’Connor specialized in poking holes in this particular balloon. A prime example is her short story, “The Lame Shall Enter First,” which features three main characters. Sheppard is the father of a young son, Norman, whom he deems to be of inferior intellect and in need of moral formation. Sheppard is trying, half-heartedly, to shape Norman into a more mature person, but that task is dull and unrewarding, as the boy only has so much potential. Instead, Sheppard focuses his attention on Rufus, a local ne’er-do-well who, Sheppard is sure, he can save. Rufus, he believes, has the inherent qualities his own son lacks: someday, with Sheppard’s encouragement, he will achieve greatness.

We become increasingly distressed as O’Connor walks us through the evolution of Sheppard’s good intention into an obsession. Absorbed by the project of Rufus’s rehabilitation, Sheppard becomes oblivious to the needs of Norton, who is coping with the loss of his mother. The father fails to see not only Rufus’s clever manipulation and complete resistance to his methods, but also that his own desperate attempts to save others is in a way his own emotional reaction to his wife’s death.

Too late, Sheppard recognizes his mistake. Near the end of the story, the revelation dawns. Reflecting on his efforts on behalf of Rufus, he utters a haunting statement that begins as a boast but ends as an accusation: “I did more for him than I did for my own child.”

As with most O’Connor stories, the tale doesn’t end on a happy note, but the gut-wrenching climax serves to bring her point home more forcefully. “The stories are hard,” she once explained to a reader, “but they are hard because there is nothing harder or less sentimental than Christian realism.” O’Connor’s realism reminds us that the consequences of succumbing to the savior temptation could be dire.

Raising a child, performing a job with skill and dedication, maintaining true friendships—these are major accomplishments that make the world a better place. If we’re doing these things conscientiously, then devoting some energy to other causes can be appropriate and laudable. But if we’re not serving well those closest to us, then trying to save the world is an exercise in misplaced priorities. The welfare of the wide world depends on keeping our own little worlds in order.

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02 Mar
0

Places of Learning

In many localities in the United States, schools remain closed for in-person learning due to the COVID-19 pandemic (although momentum seems to be building for reopening). Even where schools have generally been open, like here in rural Ohio, there have been other challenges: repeated blankets of snow have kept the kids home for a large part of the winter. The absence of in-person learning has led many to worry about the long-term effects on students’ academic progress, and researchers are monitoring the situation to assess the damage that might be done. But education is about more than academic subjects, and we should be paying equal attention to the importance of providing opportunities for fostering the attitudes and skills that are necessary for maturing persons to pursue productive, meaningful lives.

Schooling, when done properly, cultivates those traits: discipline, reliability, consistency, persistence, collaboration, willingness to learn and adapt. Institutional schools are of course not the only means of inculcating such virtues; families are the primary and irreplaceable training ground. But schools can and often do furnish an important auxiliary service in cultivating the values that are planted in the home. In exceptional situations, schools and their personnel serve as replacements for the family life that is lacking or dysfunctional. When schools function as surrogates in this way, it is inherently an imperfect and second-best approach—but second-best is better than nothing.

SRC-logoClassrooms are not the only or perhaps even the most important venue for schools’ role in promoting these essential personal qualities. Extracurricular activities—one of the collateral casualties of school closings—can be extremely valuable in this regard. Mock trial and debate clubs; dramatic productions and music programs; math and science competitions; athletic teams and social and charitable associations—all contribute immensely to building and practicing responsibility, teamwork, and determination. FVI’s own Self-Reliance Clubs, which have also been hampered by school closings, are an outstanding example of the potential of extracurricular programs to contribute to the educational mission in ways that may be neglected or impossible in most classroom settings.en

The repercussions of failing to develop positive personal capacities during children’s formative period are wide-ranging and monumental. Employers have been complaining for years about the difficulty of finding qualified candidates—the problem being for the most part not the lack of academic qualifications or technical expertise, but instead a deficit in the “soft skills” of communication, timeliness, and organization. These are abilities whose development is, again, crucially connected to a health family life; but school-based clubs and teams also excel at fostering them.

A failure to develop these traits extends beyond employment and financial matters. The same qualities that make for a successful employee also make for a successful mother or father, nonprofit board president or soup kitchen volunteer. Prospering families and communities are dependent on a critical mass of people who have a combination of awareness of social obligations and the capacity to meet them.

Louis Zamperini, the remarkable man behind the bestseller Unbroken and its film adaptation, overcame an adolescent rebellious streak by dedicating himself to high school track. “One thing you learn in sports,” he later reflected: “You don’t give up; you fight to the finish.” It was a lesson he applied to extreme situations, surviving plane crashes, shark attacks, and prison camps during World War II. His is an extraordinary case, but similar, less spectacular examples could be adduced and multiplied.

Meetings and other group events held virtually have some value along these lines, but they can’t come close to achieving the results equal to those offered by in-person activities. Youth need extracurricular opportunities to come together, guided by elders, to reach common aims by collaborating and taking responsibility for their own parts in the enterprise. The classroom is essential, but the track, the stage, and the garden are educational sites too. They are all places—real places—where young people gather and learn, give and take, fail and succeed. They are places where the character of the next generation is shaped.

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01 Mar
0

Affirm or Cancel?

Our frenetic, mercurial culture continues to provide ample fodder for social critics attuned to the absurd. In the latest in a series of jarring incongruities spawned by the morality-denying, morality-soaked industry of politically correct opinion formation, the culture of affirmation has yielded to the culture of cancellation. How did this happen, and is there a way out?

The “I’m okay, you’re okay” mentality, birthed in the 1960s, enjoyed its heyday. As a reaction to judgmentalism, hypocrisy, and inordinate fear of difference, it was understandable. Racial and ethnic discrimination, religious bigotry, and moral posturing were real problems, and the insurrection of a younger generation against the previous generation’s faults and excesses is to be expected. It’s also predictable that the young generation becomes the old generation, and in so doing enshrines its own weaknesses and blind spots as a cultural orthodoxy against which the next cadre of Young Turks will rebel.

There is doubtless an element of generation effect in the contemporary rejection of an overweening toleration as the unassailable virtue of our times. But it’s also true that intellectual errors give rise to their nemeses not only as a result of reaction, but also as result of logical unfolding. Toleration of difference—I’m okay, you’re okay—was never philosophically defensible as an absolute value. As myriad critics asked, What can an ethic of toleration do against an ideology of intolerance? The practical exigencies of law and order require that some things not be tolerated. So it will ever be.

Thus the culture of affirmation—in which self-esteem was the primary value and injuring someone’s sense of self-worth the cardinal sin—has given rise to the culture of cancellation, where it is not only permissible but mandatory, once a person has fallen afoul of the arbiters of acceptable opinion, to attack that person’s views, attributes, and identity—the more personal the assault the better. Calculation of damage to the person’s self-esteem seems not to enter the equation.

For decades, sophisticated intellectuals analyzing exotic milieus have carefully deconstructed religious rituals such as shunning and scapegoating. Now sophisticated intellectuals unselfconsciously practice shunning and scapegoating with reckless abandon in the corridors of their universities. This development—the replacement of absolute toleration by absolute adherence to “woke” ideology as the regnant orthodoxy—is already generating its reaction. The enormous popularity among young people of Professor Jordan Peterson—“the personification of the backlash to outrage and denunciation culture”—is one barometer.

The way out of this vicious cycle is to abandon the modern construction of new “virtues” and return to the classical and Christian ones. Justice, fortitude, temperance, and prudence—unlike toleration and affirmation—are habits whose practice does not generate excesses that in turn induce corrective reaction. Toleration practiced universally is impractical; certain actions and attitudes must be disfavored or disallowed in order to maintain a tolerant society. Real virtues aren’t like that; they can be pursued relentlessly and applied consistently. In popular speech, it may be possible to be “too just” or “too prudent,” but as a matter of moral philosophy it isn’t. To be just is to give to people what they are due. This can and should be practiced always and everywhere. To be prudent is to assess situations accurately and make the judgments necessary to act wisely. This is always desirable: by definition, one cannot be “excessively prudent,” because prudence would preclude it. Justice and prudence account for what toleration and affirmation do not. Justice dictates that some behavior deserves affirmation while other behavior deserves criticism or correction. Prudence enables the virtuous person to ascertain which situations are which and to act accordingly.

The traditional virtues were applicable to ancient Greece and medieval Europe, and they will work just as well in twenty-first-century America. Reacquainting ourselves with the timeless principles for living an ethical life will do more to promote freedom, stability, and comity than chasing after the next faddish exercise in virtue signaling.

 

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01 Mar
0

Political Violence, Left and Right

In the past year, many American cities experienced violent outbursts during and after protests led by groups such as Black Lives Matter (BLM) and Antifa’s united front. Their attacks still continue in some areas. On January 6, we also witnessed violence at the U.S. Capitol during protests led by supporters of President Donald Trump over the legitimacy of the 2020 election.

Comparing these two deadly outbreaks has become controversial. Some point out disparate responses to the outbreaks, with political and media figures being accused of treating the Capitol mayhem with a contempt absent from their treatment of BLM looting. What should we make of this?

There is certainly merit to the accusation of hypocrisy against those who respond to violence based on the political or ideological alignment of its perpetrators. This accusation, however, works both ways, as employing an ideologically motivated smokescreen to minimize the disorder coming from friendly quarters is common to the Left and the Right alike. Claims of disenfranchisement and victimization by insidious forces have radicalized elements across the political spectrum.

However, the justifications for opposing our governmental system are treated differently by people on either side of this controversy. The main difference is that only on the Left do we see an organized ideological movement that justifies antagonism against the present order of things – an attitude also seemingly embraced by corporate America, the educational establishment, the media, and various politicians. The second major difference is that the violence associated with racial protests has been consistently repeated and yet gained mainstream indifference or, at times, outright support. Organized right-wing extremism, on the other hand, is a fringe phenomenon that is almost universally shunned.

Take, for example, self-described agitator Vicky Osterweil, who released In Defense of Looting. The book defends looting as an ideological statement against an allegedly immoral and racist capitalist system and its unequal distribution of wealth. Osterweil’s defense of looting is based on a Marxist economic analysis that renders the entire economic system illegitimate. Looting “attacks the idea of property, and it attacks the idea that in order for someone to have a roof over their head or have a meal ticket, they have to work for a boss, in order to buy things that people just like them somewhere else in the world had to make under the same conditions,” Osterweil toldNPR. “It points to the way in which that’s unjust.” Robbery, the book claims, harms only the oppressive system of free enterprise and the oppressive concept of “law and order” that perpetuates the status quo.

Notice how the author leverages a generalized assumption of oppression to glorify BLM’s offenses against the present constitutional order. In the case of the Capitol rioters, however, the offenders are not celebrated but castigated for rebelling against the same constitutional order. It seems as if the political and ideological aims are what is important, and “the system” is instrumentalized on account of that aim.

Osterweil’s book is not an isolated example. The idea that America is systemically racist, and the constitutional order is oppressive and invalid, is the very foundation of Critical Race Theory. The Pulitzer Prize-winning 1619 Projectasserts that “the very basis of property in the U.S. is derived through whiteness and through [b]lack oppression, through the history of slavery and settler domination of the country.” The 1619 Project’s narrative calls for the dismissal of the American constitutional system – not merely its reform but a radical rejection of the entire political, social, and economic structure of American life.

This narrative isn’t drawn from the perspective of black Americans as they collectively reflected on the American experience; this view is derived from applying the radical, socialist analysis of America to black citizens. The black experience is filtered through the radical beliefs that American ideals were a lie from the beginning and that the institutional framework upon which America was built is illegitimate, intrinsically racist, and irreformable; thus, it must be rejected. These ideas are not a mere emotional reaction to recent electoral events but a systematic analysis pervasive among the elite which has filtered down to the masses, thereby forming what political philosopher Hannah Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism calls a “terrifying negative solidarity.” Solidarity forms around a narrative of victimization, which feeds on an authentic historical experience that is totalized. This totalization creates a closed system of thought, which indicts the body politic as a whole in the name of group cohesion. Love for the group demands the acceptance of the narrative and condemns the constitutional framework that sustains an entire society invested in racism. (For an examination of the totalitarian impulse in general, see Rod Dreher’s Live Not By Lies: A Manual for Christian Dissidents.)

educationWorse yet, this view’s proponents have fashioned a public school curriculum around the 1619 Project, and any criticism of the project is countered by accusations of racial animosity. The filtering of the general question of race through a radical explanatory system is conflated with a concern for racial justice, which justifies a rejection of the constitutional order. This analysis seems to condone the mob’s imposition of its views of justice “by any means necessary” – but only with regard to the question of race. This is how an attack on the constitutional order can be seen as so detrimental when it comes from one quarter but so justified when it comes from another, even when the latter attempt is in fact more systematic, entrenched, and destructive.

It is as if the taxonomical category of victimized groupconfers a sort of epistemic privilege granting it immunity for its actions, which is not granted to those whose identity is more aligned with a purported racial transgressor. We are told we must accept this grant of immunity by creating a different set of rules for analyzing the aims and activities of these victims of history. (For a good analysis of identity politics, see Joshua Mitchell, “The Identity Politics Critique of the American Republic,” in Gerald McDermott’s Race and Covenant: Recovering the Religious Roots for American Reconciliation, pp. 79-97.)

Far from a necessary ingredient of an ideology that upholds violence, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. soberly referred to rioting as a “temper tantrum” by people losing hope. In other words, it was not ideologically motivated. As he stated, “Violence may go to the point of murdering the hater, but it doesn’t murder hate. It may increase hate. It is always a descending spiral leading nowhere.”

The 1619 Project, on the other hand, is informed by the assumptions of Critical Race Theory. CRT is first and foremost a proposed explanation of origins that focuses on what it proclaims is the intrinsically racist nature of our society’s legal framework. It sees the problem of race as a systemic (as opposed to systematic) one and the law as its most powerful instrument. It starts with the a prioriassumption that the United States is rooted in white supremacy. From there, the theory concludes that white supremacy is written into the law, even if not overtly stated. Disparate outcomes in economic, legal, and social areas of life are explained by the given of intrinsic racism. Critical Race Theory is mostly a cataloguing of examples that admits no challenging of premises. When CRT speaks of the “oppressed” or the “marginalized,” it is not referring to present states of affairs affecting given groups but to a class of people who are marginalized by definition.

With such theories spreading like wildfire in academic, cultural, political, legal, theological, and judicial circles, it is to be expected that one cannot oppose violence by the “oppressed” against the “oppressive” system without being accused of abetting the oppressors. This is why a limited, violent action by political opponents against the very system CRT considers illegitimate (like the attack on the U.S. Capitol) is utilized as a reason to delegitimize the opposition. How can the rejection of our nation’s constitutional framework receive accolades, while a similar rejection coming from the other side of the political spectrum – and one that is a completely out-of-the-mainstream minority view – be rejected with moralistic zeal?

What at face value seems contradictory makes perfect sense within the framework I have outlined. The question at hand is not whether the system is illegitimate; the question is what tactic can advance the ideological aims of those intent on destroying the system from the side of the “oppressed.”

While we should indeed avoid drawing facile distinctions in an attempt to justify acts of political violence that suit our political alignment – and them alone – fear of this kind of hypocrisy should not prevent us from making a valid examination of the ideological background that explains the inconsistency in mainstream assessments of these two expressions of violence. Otherwise, substantive analysis will give way to the weak comparisons that spring from a politicized context.

No contemporary issue demands greater clarity of thought. Alas, no issue is getting less of it.

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16 Feb
0

Lent and the Free Society

In the Western Christian tradition, the season of Lent begins this week. This season of penance in preparation for Easter is highly relevant to the maintenance of a free and virtuous society.

Last week I wrote about the connection between self-control and self-government. That article highlighted the founders’ insistence that religion and morality were necessary supports to a political system characterized by self-governance, because they promote self-control among the citizenry. The season of Lent invites us to focus more closely on exactly how the virtue of self-control is cultivated.

The three principal practices of Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Fasting most obviously involves refraining from food, but it can include abstaining from any otherwise good substance or activity. The Catholic Church and some other churches provide specific guidance about how to fast during Lent, but the details are not important for our purposes. What’s critical is to recognize the salutary spiritual and psychological effect of fasting for the human soul and mind.

Fasting is a form of mortification, which means voluntarily undertaking physical difficulty or deprivation so as to achieve mastery over the body. It is often associated with religious practice and as such has a spiritual dimension, but it also has a purely psychosomatic effect. It is a way to foster the habit of self-control, of training the mind to govern the body and its passions rather than permitting the reason to be a slave to physical desires.

This is why the original Catholic Encyclopedia points out that fasting has a basis in natural law; that is, its purpose is accessible to reason even without the assistance of revelation. The practice of fasting cultivates the classical and cardinal virtue of temperance. Pre-Christian philosophers recommended fasting for this reason—independent of any religious rationale or prescription. Aristotle described temperance as moderation in the pursuit of physical pleasure. Its corresponding vice is self-indulgence. “The self-indulgent man,” the Greek philosopher said, “craves for all pleasant things or those that are most pleasant, and is led by his appetite to choose these at the cost of everything else.”

One who pursues bodily pleasure “at the cost of everything else” does not have control of his passions; his reason is not in the driver’s seat. Individual happiness and fulfillment is one casualty of self-indulgence, but the common good—societal wellbeing—is another. This  is because, as last week’s article noted, self-control is indispensable for self-government.

Moscow, May 2020. Architectural mixing of styles in Moscow. View from the Patriarchal bridge. Stalin's skyscrapers, ultra modern buildings, the dome of the church, five-story brick houses.Thus, while Christians and other people of faith may have religious motivations for restricting food or drink or the use of other goods, the virtue that is cultivated through this practice—self-control—is one that is universally desirable. Fasting is therefore one concrete way by which we can foster the personal habits necessary to maintain a thriving society. The Dutch legal philosopher Hugo Grotius summarized the principle in the seventeenth century: “A man cannot govern a nation if he cannot govern a city; he cannot govern a city if he cannot govern a family; he cannot govern a family unless he can govern himself; and he cannot govern himself unless his passions are subject to reason.” The seemingly private and personal virtue of self-control thus has ramifications that project outward and upward, affecting the very stability of a political regime.

In a pluralistic society, not all will observe Lent. Not all will fast. Not all will abstain from meat. But Lent is a reminder that we all need to find a way to practice the subordination of the passions to reason, to cultivate the virtue of self-control. If we do not—if we allow our insatiable physical desires to dictate the contours of our lives—then we imperil ourselves, our communities, and our nation.

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08 Feb
0

Self-Control and Self-Government

The grand experiment of the American republic was based, James Madison said, on “the capacity of mankind for self-government.” Adams and the other founders believed that the era of political absolutism—of lodging complete power in a ruler or group of rulers without regard for the self-determination of the people—could be relegated to the past. But this experiment depended on one, indispensable condition: that the people be willing to shoulder the responsibility given them. Self-government did not simply the right to vote; it meant that the voters must take up the burdens of governance throughout their lives. Thus the durability of the American experiment depended on the persistence of a certain kind of people: a “moral and religious people.”

That formulation comes from John Adams’ well-known claim: “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.” George Washington said similarly, “Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports.” Adams and Washington were not mouthing rhetorical platitudes; they were voicing a conclusion based on robust historical and philosophical premises, a tenet held almost universally by the founders: that only a virtuous people could sustain the republic they had designed.

Why was this so? Because people ceded power to government for the purpose of maintaining order. The more that order needed to be imposed from above, the more power government would need. Conversely, the more that order was self-imposed, the less demand there would be for vigorous government intervention. (Recent images of a military-occupied Capitol are a graphic reminder of the authoritarian crackdown that disorder invites.) The self-imposition of order, the founders understood, was achieved by the exercise of self-control, which was the bridling of passion by reason. Self-control was a virtue that required effort and cultivation. And virtue, they further understood, was most commonly imbued and achieved by the practice of religion. Therefore, the Constitution—which stipulated a government whose powers were strictly limited—depended on a “moral and religious people.”

Bill Clark:CQ-Roll, Inc via Getty Images

This is one of the reasons the founders were so concerned with the often-misunderstood and later-corrupted principle of the separation of church and state. They insisted that there be no state-sponsored (“establishment”) church not because they thought that religion was unimportant or should be relegated to the private sphere, but because they were convinced that religion was essential for societal wellbeing and was a vital support for government. It was imperative that the American citizenry maintain a vibrant and meaningful religious sensibility, which would in turn serve to sustain virtue. Government control of religion weakened this role by, at best, corrupting religion, and at worst, suppressing genuine religious practice when it did not conform to authorized expressions.

It is true that some of the founders had an overly utilitarian view of religion, which explains why they were not devout and orthodox believers themselves. But their utilitarian calculation was nonetheless correct. The self-control necessary to support self-government is a virtue that is difficult to sustain in the absence of widespread religious belief. Religion provides both the worldview and the communal environment within which sacrifice makes sense. Without it, self-aggrandizement easily vanquishes self-control, and the passions easily run rampant over reason. As concupiscence—the sinful weakness of human nature—takes over, anarchy spreads: in the family, in the workplace, in the school, and in politics.

In the early decades of the American experiment, the French visitor Alexis de Tocqueville could still perceive these connections. “In America, religion leads to wisdom,” he wrote, and “the observance of divine law guides men to freedom.” Would he be able to make the same observation about today’s America?

 

 

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07 Feb
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Theories of Race

The trans-Saharan slave trade dates to the second century AD, and fully functioning slave markets abounded for centuries in various parts of the world. However, slavery largely had died out in Europe until its resurgence during the era of discovery and colonization that saw the Portuguese establish the first Atlantic sugar plantations in the Madeiras (1455) and the Canary Islands (1496). The labor system instituted in those places served as a model for the New World’s sugar plantation system. Brazil was the first transatlantic destination for African slaves, who arrived there in 1538, and later the despicable slave ship brought 350 slaves to Jamestown in 1619.

Much has been said about that dreadful event in Jamestown. If we attempt to understand the struggles of race in America from that date on, we must look not only at the antecedent factors often lying just beneath the surface of these events but also at the narratives within which they are embedded. These narratives, or filters, are often presented as conferring epistemic privilege for some and epistemic blinders for others. For that reason, it is important to understand these constructs. There are, in my estimation, two major narratives of race that ought to claim our attention.

Race in History

Before we examine these two narratives, let us quickly glance at the larger question of race in history. The very concept of race seems to be a fuzzy category, lacking clear biological classification. Race as a biological phenomenon is subjective and does not represent a definite category in nature. Instead, race exists as part of a continuum with arbitrary boundaries that are socially construed. As Thomas Sowell states, “If race were conceived of in purely biological terms, it would be a concept that could be applied to only a relatively handful of people on a few small isolated islands in the oceans. … What are called ‘races’ in this context are simply groups of people with substantially differing proportions of genes from various racial stocks.”

Starting in the early part of the 17th century, several developments occurred that generated the modern concept of race. Among these factors was Western exploration, ignited in part by mercantilism and the discovery and colonization of new peoples, which brought cultures closer together and made human differences more apparent. The popularization of Darwinism, along with the related though distinct emergence of the theory of Social Darwinism later in the 19nth century, is another important factor. Darwinists were the first to attempt to bestow on racism some semblance of scientific validity. It is interesting that the subtitle of Darwin’s “On the Origin of the Species” (1859) was “The Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life.”

 

With these influences and the human propensity to parochialism, it was to be expected that people sought answers in a theory of race to questions such as why certain people possess what seem to be inferior cultures. Of course, inferiority is in the eye of the beholder, and the aforementioned parochialism tends to lead us to place ourselves at the pinnacle of civilization. In fact, anthropologists have shown that some of the most primitive tribes embraced myths that placed their tiny groups at the center of the universe.

With the Darwinist insistence on a hierarchy of survival enthroned as a tenet of science, the ideological framework was in place for a rationalization of racial domination. If the question of who is “superior” is asked, the questioner often will find an obvious answer: “Well, we are, of course!” Classifications came with a vengeance under Darwinian influence. Think about it: the age of exploration, mercantilism, trade, Darwinism. All these gave a new twist of justification to an ancient institution: slavery. Rivalries among the European powers created a voracious appetite for cash crops and new sources of precious materials, and the need for manpower to harvest the bounty. There was powerful demand for a theoretical justification for chattel slavery.

As we know, slavery was ancient and universal. Sociologist Orlando Patterson tells us that “slaveholding and trading existed among the earliest and most primitive of peoples. The archaeological evidence reveals that slaves were among the first items of trade within, and between, the primitive Germans and Celts, and the institution was an established part of life.” Virtually as ancient as civilization itself, slavery existed in Africa, China, Japan and the prehistoric Near East. Hunter-gatherers in North America practiced it. The North American Cherokees practiced slavery, with slaves being the “atsi nahsa’i,” or people without rights or participation in social life. Their main purpose was to serve as an anomaly, pointing to the strength and unity of the Cherokees as a group.

However, in Europe there was another important influence: Christianity. Under the influence of religious groups such as the Quakers, by the end of the 18th century slavery seemed intolerable, and in 1807 Great Britain abolished its slave trade. Fifteen years later, France followed suit. Eventually the Christian West not only questioned slavery but birthed a movement to end it. These accomplishments occurred despite strong opposition from most of the non-Western world. African tribal leaders in Gambia, Congo and Dahomey (Nigeria) sent delegations to London and Paris to lobby against ending the slave trade, and intra-African trade in slaves grew exponentially after the Europeans ended their participation.

The quest to abolish slavery extended to America, although it took longer to achieve here, mostly because of economic reasons. The antebellum South evolved into a segmented economy heavily dependent on agriculture, with an aristocratic elite benefiting from slave labor. It is important to note that blacks were not enslaved because of Darwinian biological theories; they were enslaved for economic reasons. Slavery later was rationalized using various theories, including the Darwinian, which became prevalent only after the paternalistic religious rationalization began to falter. Because slavery in many places had become a racialized institution, theories of racial superiority were invented to justify its continuation. Thus, even after slavery was legally outlawed, those theories were still potent weapons of justification for efforts to maintain the economic and political dominance of some races over others. This explains why Darwinism, which emerged only as systematic slavery was in its death throes, remained a vital component of racialist thought.

In any event, our history was imbued with a binary reality: a country founded on the idea of freedom still had within itself a racialized institution that contradicted the goals of liberty. With this background in place, we can now discuss the two streams or narratives of thought used to explain the American race problem.

The Personalist Narrative

The first stream is one I call the Personalist/Integrationist Approach (PIA). It is important to note in addressing this stream of thought that America benefited from the idea of individual freedom as an institutional value, which only took hold in the Christian West. As sociologist Orlando Patterson tell us, “While the idea of freedom was certainly engendered wherever slavery existed, it never came to term. People everywhere, except in the West, resisted its gestation and institutionalization.”

In non-Western societies, and for a period also in the West, the slave dreamed of becoming socially “born again” by recapturing acceptable social dependency. That dependency was his only hope, because full citizenship after being released from slavery was seldom attained. Personal freedom as we understand it was denied not only to the slave but to all members of tribal societies; all relationships were dependent on the community. In effect, it is in the relationship between the slave and the “freeman” that we find the essence of the idea of freedom in the non-Western world — the freeman’s liberty consisting of full integration within the kin group rather than individual liberty. In the absence of the possibility of individual independence, there was a more practical goal for non-Westerners: that of fully belonging to the group for some and, for the slave, the reduction of marginality by regaining corporate status socially, legally and ritualistically.

This regaining of corporate status was to be accomplished by escaping or by attempting the often-unsuccessful task of being welcomed within the clan of the slave’s captors. There was social capital in being a member of the tribe, and often the slave was a kind of social currency and token of recognition of the value of integration, a reminder for the tribe that the members were not like the slave and that unity within the group brought about safety from the dreaded fate the slave exemplified. The free-slave dichotomy was not obtained in the non-Western world because all social status was involuntary and subordinated to the community.

In the PIA understanding of race that informed the earlier stages of the civil rights movement, the person, the individual, has a status different from what was conceived by the non-Western mind. Ethnic identity is seen as an aspect of the larger reality of individual personhood. Through a long and interesting historical process magnificently told by Orlando Patterson in his seminal book, “Freedom In the Making of Western Culture,” the Western mind conceived an alternative of social existence that was neither isolation and social death nor subordination to the group. Personal freedom was eventually conceived and actualized. A series of revolutions in ancient Athens transformed the Western world in a way that allowed for the social construction of freedom as a central value. This central value became a preoccupation for Greek philosophy, and later for the Christian natural law tradition via its connection to Aristotelian thought.

Roman power expanded this idea both in geographical terms, through conquest and rule, and in social terms, concerning who could aspire to it, as they co-opted the leadership of allied states. Through compromise and strategic maneuverings for power, freedom was indirectly expanded to others. Christianity, in effect, moved this journey toward its institutionalization. The possibility of autonomy against the threat of dreadful slavery obtained in this environment, whereas only fusion within the kin group emerged as a practical alternative in the non-Western world.

The Western mind thus arrived at autonomy through a long struggle that was in many ways parasitic to the very existence of slavery. Personalists believe that the Founders of our nation were, for the most part, successful in suffusing our founding documents with universal natural law principles of individual human dignity consistent with the Western development of the idea of individual freedom. Whatever one might think of the arrival of slaves in 1619, its significance is filtered through the prism of the understanding of freedom expressed in the documents of 1776 and the Western discovery of individual freedom. The existence of contradiction on the ground of experience is to be expected in a process that, as we have detailed, saw human beings at the crossroads of various influences.

Adherents to this stream believe that the American constitutional framework could, over time, overcome social, economic and political racial stratification and expand the realm of freedom. Embedded in the founding principles of the Constitution was the seed of the solution to the problem, even if that solution required a long and often arduous and painful journey. The Constitution was not perfect, but neither was it tragically flawed. Its basic principle was not white supremacy but liberty.

The 1960s civil rights movement was grounded in the belief that black integration was a right, a social good, and a real possibility. Just as Westerners over time discovered that the dichotomy of social death or collectivist integration was false because there was another option, the movement thrust ahead, albeit in the face of great struggle, by rejecting the social death or separation alternative. Dr. Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” is probably the best expression of this view. “Be true to what you say on paper!” was his cry.

The antithesis to the slavery system brought to our shores as human cargo in 1619 was freedom in the Western sense: freedom to a group of people destined to recreate themselves in a foreign land that became their own — a people destined to be the quintessential Americans who forged an existential reality in the midst of isolation from their past and the imposed degradation of their present. Partial resocialization within the master’s community was not destiny but a step on a journey of full integration informed by the value of freedom. Reform is possible, however searing conditions might seem at a given time, if there is historical evidence that positive changes can occur based on the substantive set of principles that inform a system. The arrival of slave cargo ships in 1619 was the background against which the story of a people was forged, based on the principles of liberty carved in 1776. Slavery was scenery in the drama of a new people of destiny.

If this is true, the heart of the PIA understanding of race in America can be said to be optimism. This optimism is neither without justification nor without caution, knowing well that the emergence of freedom in history was never without travails. Optimism is possible because the philosophical foundations of the Constitution, benefiting from the long and arduous discovery of individual freedom in the Western mind, demonstrated that it is possible to expand its reach to cover more and more classes of people. In other words, this stream was integrationist, reformist and optimistic, while recognizing the reality of sin, and this aligns it with philosophical realism.

This optimism is complemented by the Christian expansion of salvation to the gentiles. The gentiles were called to the church and, as the church and the state drew closer and the power of Rome backed the church, liberties were expanded from the kin group to the nations. The very distortions of biblical exegesis used by some to justify enslavement demonstrates that in the Western and Christian mind there needed to be a way to accommodate action to biblical principles that pointed in the direction of freedom. There was a psychological and intellectual need to find a way to deal with the ideas of liberty found in biblical stories. Moreover, the adherents to this stream espoused the same conviction shared by John Adams and many other Founders: that general, immutable and unalterable Christian and natural law principles informed the meaning of law in the American constitutional understanding of governance.

As Martin Luther King often repeated, a law lacks character as true law when it is unjust and violates the eternal moral law, and it must be disobeyed precisely because it violates the principles of the Constitution. His philosophy was deeply personalist. Natural law is a finite reflection of the infinite wisdom of God and human law must conform with this reflection. In a sense, natural law gives this stream of thought an adherence to universal truths about the human person as a point of departure to understand social reality. The human person, unique and unrepeatable, with the moral capacities of reason and volition, stands sui generis in the midst of the group, whose wellbeing does not supersede the dignity embedded in the person but which is called to respect that dignity in view of the common good.

Christian doctrine and natural law principles of the primacy of reason were thus indispensable elements in the development of American constitutionalism. Adherents to the PIA stream embraced these Christian principles as they started a movement that altered the face of America. As tempted as they were to succumb to pessimism altogether, they remained aligned with the stream built on hope and optimism. Martin Luther King’s life serves as an icon of such commitment. In the face of constant criticism, he stood on the principles of the founders, even though some might question why. In his final “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech, in which he sees himself in the shoes of Moses (Numbers 27:12; Deuteronomy 34), King said, “He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain and I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!” He was killed by an assassin’s bullet the very next day.

The Dialectical Narrative

The second understanding of race relations is the Dialectical/Separationist Approach (DSA). The dialectical approach sees human universalism as an aspiration instead of a point of departure. Universalism is obscured by oppression; thus, talk of universalism tends to ignore questions of justice. The DSA stream follows the vision of freedom affirmed by the non-Western mind, where freedom is realized only by full integration within the kin group and by the individual’s conformity to the will and ultimate goals of the group. Each person is a drop within the great wave of ethnic belonging and, if faithful to the collective, that drop gains meaning. The point of departure is not the individual person, unique and unrepeatable, standing sui generis, but the group. Individual freedom is sacrificed at the altar of what Patterson calls “sovereignal freedom.” Sovereign freedom relieves the individual from isolation in exchange for loyal service, deference and loyalty to the group. It is within the group that freedom is found, collectivized for the sake of survival. Conformity to the role, expectations and culture of the group offers a necessary safety that prevents alienation into the nothingness of individuality.

The pull of such a conception is powerful because, in the context of slavery, commonality as a method was crucial for survival in the face of brutality. It is also luring because it is deterministic. If “the system” is the culprit for the lack of personal autonomy, there is a good reason to affirm that condition as part of one’s identity. If being an individual black person is a persistent woe informed by pitiless despair, and there is no expectation of reward for one’s accomplishments, a collectivist explanation arrives almost by necessity. A given racial group is guilty (and their society instrumentally at fault) and another racial group is a haven of security, affirmation, contingency and counterattack. In the face of self-doubt manufactured by the oppressor, groupthink seems a good place to relieve one’s vulnerability, just as the non-Western tribal member saw in the kin group the practical solution to the perennial threat of enslavement and social death. In this view, individual freedom as the matrix for understanding black aspirations is an impediment to finding solutions, as it is as practically impossible today as it was practically impossible for tribesmen in the prehistoric savannas of Africa.

There is a real tension here as two civilizations and modes of understanding — the enslaver’s and the enslaved — merged in the context of antagonism. Leading leftist scholars such as Derrick Bell reflect a dialectic of antagonism as they tell us the founding itself was the problem, as the Founders betrayed the ideals to which they gave lip service. The normal science of this stream of thought has become the assertion that there were no values to adhere to that could serve as the link between those brought here in chains and the hope for eventual integration. In this view, an oppositional stance is the only way to affirm authentic love for the group, and blacks at best could only aspire to become the “enemy within” American society. Just as slaves did among non-Western tribes such as the Tupimamba of the Amazon, blacks might find a temporary place within the foreigners’ group but their destiny was social and physical death and their daily experience a combination of fear and contempt. As Patterson explains, “Commitment to the autonomy and strength of the group often entails a submission of one’s identity to that of the group. Collective freedom, collective power, and collective responsibility are all bought at the expense of the individual’s complete suspension of, or submission to, the will of the group and its leaders.”

Malcolm X is probably the best-known exemplar of the separationist and dialectical stream of thought, which sees the black American experience as a “nightmare” and finds inspirational antecedents in the slave rebellion spearheaded by Nathanial “Nat” Turner (1800–1831) and the black nationalism and Pan Africanism of Marcus Garvey and the Nation of Islam. In the 1960s, Stokely Carmichael and Willie Ricks popularized the “Black Power” slogan. Both were active in the Black Power movement as it became the socio-political arm of the dialectical stream, which served as a counterbalance to the personalist stream by the latter part of the 1960s civil rights movement. Following the 1965 Watts riots in Los Angeles, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committeesevered ties with the mainstream civil rights movement.

This separation is an early hint of the ultimate clash between the personalist and dialectical streams. The more radical civil rights movement militants argued for the need to build power through forceful militancy that will allow for an eventual separation, instead of seeking integration through accommodation within the system called America. In a similar vein and during the same period, Bobby Seale founded the Black Panther Party.

As this stream’s narrative goes, America is a criminal enterprise that has forced blacks into poverty, drug addiction, degradation and crime, and only a dialectical severance from the essence of America, whether by radical alteration of its structures or actual physical (geographical) separation, is sovereignal freedom to be attained. The key to Western success and the essence of the American founding are not freedom but oppression: specifically, the crimes of ethnocentrism, colonialism, imperialism and racism. And the key to ending this oppressive and irreformable system is power.

This understanding of race relations emphasizes collective identity, collective innocence, collective guilt, and collective and separate destiny. Race and the kin group become a basic reality, a sort of practical absolute, the heart of identity (racialist essentialism). Remarkably, we might add, the way this system reads American history is exactly the same way the infamous Chief Justice Roger Taney of the Dred Scott case and the rabid racists read history. The ground of understanding of the dialectical system is akin to the non-Western view of freedom and fully aligns with Marxist dialectical materialism and Marxist analysis of history.

Instead of class moving history forward, race is the catalyst. A racial “brotherhood” and the concept of self-determination acquire a similar meaning to that of Marxist class consciousness, where the self is the racial group. For Marx, class consciousness is a phenomenon born out of historical collective struggle, which brings to bear objective features that must be shared by members of the group. Similarly, racial self-determination in this stream refers not to the fate of individuals who share an ancestry but the collective fate of those who share an ideology. The antithesis of class consciousness is false consciousness, and that false consciousness, when applied to the racial group, refers to individual members of the kin group who deviate from what is generally understood as the interests of the group vis-à-vis its oppressor. Again, individual freedom and integration become the enemies of the separatist and dialectical stream. Collective self-determination is not seen instrumentally as the context within which individual responsibility is appropriated and individual freedom enhanced; instead, the ultimate goal is fusion of the self with group consciousness.

As collective identity is the mark for both the oppressor and the oppressed, only antagonism lies ahead. Integration deprives the racial victim of his identity, diluting it as a way of eliminating it. The dialectical stream is often accepted by people who seem in some respects successfully integrated, but it is never a final destination, only a step in the quest for power. The final goal remains complete separation at one end (Nation of Islam) and complete transformation of society at the other (most black radical groups).

This dialectical understanding is engulfing us and has become the mainstream narrative in academia, politics, the media, and even many religious groups. It informs the claims of The New York Times’ 1619 Project. The radical difference between the two streams of thought reflects the ancient tension between the primacy of reason and that of the will. It is the tension between optimism built on the engines of reason and faith, which is aligned with the Western development of the idea of individual freedom, on one hand; and on the other, pessimism and the collectivist pursuit of power, which is aligned with the non-Western understanding of sovereignty and freedom. Ultimately intertwined as they are with such perennial questions, these two streams are also implicated in the great ideological battles of our generation, conflicts between individual freedom as understood in the West and in free market economies, and Marxist-Leninist collectivism and its many manifestations, revisions, and united fronts.

From the beginning of the civil rights movement, these warring camps were in evidence. The collectivist stream eventually captured the high ground with its appeal to the will, to raw emotion, to the most basic instincts of fallen man, and to ideologies that shared the ancient non-Western emphasis on avoiding social death by clinging to the group. Race became the necessary epiphenomenon of class and as such, it was only race that could save us.

Originally published in  1776 Unites

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