Collapse is what man does. It is what we do best; in it, we do our best. It is what we are specially adapted to cope with. It has formed us again and again. Civilization today is what it is, and has reached its present heights of power, capability, knowledge and coordination, because of the many civilized orders that preceded it, and that worked brilliantly until suddenly they didn’t. From their failures, we may keep learning how not to fail. Tradition is the lore of past collapses; new collapses cannot but refresh tradition, even as they edit and reform it.
Naturally and rightly we seek to avoid it, because collapse is always costly, and painful. But so is life; is there any human life that suffers no collapses, no irreparable disasters? The question answers itself. How then might any society of humans ever do otherwise? We ought then look upon the coming collapse as a runner looks forward to a race, or a singer to a recital – or even as a runner looks forward to a workout, or a singer to her scales. The adversity of collapse makes man himself, and more than he has been.
The orthosphere – or as Bruce Charlton first proposed we call it, the kalbosphere – continues its penetration of the Christian Right. The lead article in the most recent edition of First Things is by Orthospherean Jim Kalb, his second appearance in that journal this year.
Technocracy Now is another of Jim’s incisive analyses of liberalism. An excerpt:
As rejecting the patrimonial cult, the tradent renders himself ritually unclean by its terms, and may therefore expect to be exploited sooner or later as a scapegoat. Modern society seethes with resentment, guilt and shame. To avert total meltdown, it needs regular expiatory ritual immolations of unclean scapegoats. When someone in the dysfunctional system must be designated the problem child, and all the blame for the dysfunction laid on his shoulders, and expelled from the community, that someone will probably be the tradent, who by his refusals to worship Moloch shall already have nominated himself for ostracism and banishment.
Be the scapegoat, then. Choose to be the scapegoat. Choose exit; choose escape for yourself and your own family from the system of the modern world, from its moral and aesthetic categories and imperatives. Plan it; put it into effect. If you choose exit from insane society, and put that exit into practical effect, implementing it all your quotidian acts, you can’t be too badly hurt when you are banished from it. Start on the project soon enough, and you’ll be so far gone that it won’t occur to them to ostracize you when they are next looking for a victim.
An effectual scapegoat must be selected from within the community. Let us be without it, then. The more of us who betake ourselves away from the precincts of the Revolutionaries, the sooner and more often they’ll start chopping each others’ heads off.
Roosh, archon and cowbell of the androsphere, seems to have begun the final phase of the shedding of mundane illusions that began when he first took the Red Pill. Like I said.
To see through the glass even darkly, one must first turn, and look. Roosh has turned, and is looking.
Truth is a strange attractor – so strange, indeed, that it is the subvenient attractor of all other attractions, the thing we seek in seeking them. Once get the scent of a hair of it, and you’re after it pell mell forever, willy nilly, obsessed with your quarry. It’s a virtuous addiction, that cannot ever be sated except by the full possession of the whole of its object.
Any religion must express some truths, or it will be utterly useless, and will gain no purchase among men. It will fail to convince them. They will see that it is just absurd.
So all perdurant religions express some truths. Nevertheless they disagree, or they would not differ. So none of them express the same set of truths. And to the extent that they disagree in any respect with Christianity about the Incarnation and its implications, they cannot but mislead men, to their spiritual detriment, and even in the limit to their damnation.
Neither, apparently. Behold modernism – the notion that we can simply choose what is good, and then take it for ourselves, the sin of Adam – summed in five words: “We choose happiness over tradition.” Continue reading →
Secular reaction can’t work. As Bruce Charlton pointed out yesterday, secular cultures must tend always leftward – i.e., toward chaos and death – because at bottom they are guided and governed by disordered passions and desires, and so furthermore are careless of their danger. This will be as true of their noblest exponents and leaders as of their common folk. And we won’t be able to persuade a whole people that the first principles of their secular society are insane using only secular arguments. To sway them, we’ll have to put the fear of God into them. And we can’t give them what we don’t ourselves possess. Continue reading →
From its founding, First Things has been the premier journal of high Christian engagement with the public square in the West. The basic proposition of the journal has been that American liberal democracy could be domesticated to Christ by a concerted ecumenical effort of philosophical evangelism. First Things intended to provide a forum for that discourse, and a rally point. Much good has come of this project. But with the recent spate of stunning reversals on sexual policy, and with Christianity ever more clearly in the crosshairs of our secular overlords, the writers of First Things seem to be recoiling from the profane culture of the West and its liberal cult of Moloch. They begin to see that their project has failed, and that perhaps it was doomed to fail from the start. More and more, they seem to realize that rapprochement with liberalism is in any case a pact with the devil.
It’s not just that the editors saw fit to publish an article by our own Jim Kalb back in December. In the February issue, First Things took a decided turn toward orthogony to secular political discourse, as if they all with one mind awoke to a realization that dawned on most traditionalists several years ago: America is too far gone to be saved. As Lawrence Auster then began to say, “It’s their country now.” Likewise also for the West in general.
First Things seems now to have reached the same conclusion.
The Great Christian Heresies crop up again and again, and the Church will probably have to deal with them all the way out to the eschaton. They tempt the mind because they are simply easier to take on board than many of the most difficult and mysterious Christian doctrines, such as the Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Atonement. Being easier to make sense of, they seem to make more sense. And they all start from, and partake of, some kernel of theological truth. This too increases their credibility. But they are all errors.