On the “Almost” Death of a Van Tillian

The further I get along my religious walk, the less inclined I am to accept organized religion.

I’ve been calling myself a “Presbyterian”, but that’s more because of the move I made early in my career as a Calvinist, to accept infant baptism and its subsequent covenant theology.  It made sense then, and does so now.  Further, I believed (and still believe) that the overall theological scheme of Calvinism is more-or-less correct; at least, it makes the most sense to me.

But as I studied Van Til and his system of apologetics, a funny thing began to happen.

I began seeing these theological systems as “models” that could be rejected, without giving up the truth of Christianity.  Think of it this way:

Suppose I try to explain to someone how my car works.

I may not be able to say how, exactly, it is able to go – but I know it does.  Further, if pressed by a skeptic, I may be inclined to offer some explanation for how it might operate.  Now, supposing I’m able to come up with three or four different scenarios for how my car runs, the skeptic, at that point, might begin critiquing each scenario.

And supposing he’s unusually adept – he may be able to successfully deconstruct all four of my “models”.  But as I’ve realized over the years, he’s not, therefore, justified in claiming that the car cannot run!  At best, all he can say is that I’ve failed to give a good working model for how it runs, and should keep trying.

Let’s apply this analogy to something more relevant to Christian apologetics:

I believe there was once a giant flood that covered the entire Earth, destroying all life excepting maybe insects, certain vegetation, and some water creatures, and also excepting that rescued by the man Noah, who was warned by God of the coming disaster, built an ark, and salvaged creation.

Atheists hate this story and ridicule those who take it literally.  But, they can’t say it didn’t happen.  All they can do is critique the various Flood models offered up for analysis.  These Flood models must explain the mechanics of such a flood (where did all the water come from and where did it go?), they must explain the flaws in modern dating techniques which give far older dates than the Flood narrative allows; they must explain how the entire Earth could have been repopulated from a handful of animals, how the animals got to their unique habitats post-Flood, how different races of humans developed; and so on and so forth.

Now, supposing, say, John Woodmorappe’s flood model is studied and thoroughly deconstructed by skeptics, does that entail that the Flood never occurred?

Not at all!


Now, let’s apply this same reasoning to theology.

I believe that God is both one person, and also three persons, at the same time, and in the same way.  This is a huge mystery in Christian theology; it’s a paradox that has caused no end of arguments, and creation of different theological models.

Cornelius Van Til has a Trinitarian model.  Gordon Clark has a Trinitarian model.  In fact, there seems to be no end of theologians, dogmaticians, and scholars of systematic theology, who supply their unique explanation of the Trinitarian paradox.

Even if pithy atheist philosophers step in and internally deconstruct each and every one of these trinitarian models, (and ohhhh how they try), it wouldn’t prove that the doctrine of the Trinity is false.  It would just prove that a handful of explanatory models have failed to be explanatory.


I blogged about a serious dream I had two nights ago – where I literally met Jesus Christ.

The resulting feeling of loyalty I had – loyalty to an individual human man (who was, nevertheless, divine) – trump any and all emotional attachment I have to a theological model.

Hang ALL theological models!


What’s the conclusion of this?

Well, there are many conclusions, but the most immediate are as follows:

1.  Presuppositional apologetics and the theological models necessary for the arguments to operate, become a mere game of reasoning.  “Oh, you want to play the reason-giving game, eh?  Let’s play!” … but they can all be easily set aside at the end of the day, laid down as one lays down a sword after a battle…laid down, never to be touched again in times of peace.

2.  And if we’re laying down these methodological swords (and the accompanying theological models), then all that’s left is love and loyalty for the man Jesus; a love and loyalty that isn’t guided by rationalized rules, procedures, and dogmatic models, but rather, by heart-felt emotional empathy – an actual relationship.

3.  Those who segregate from each other because of disagreements over the truth of this or that theological model, are missing the actual truth of the matter – which is:  the models are irrelevant.

Upon reading number 3, the puritans will be up in arms, I know – but consider:  a study in Van Tillian apologetics, if anything, helps one realize the power of skeptical argumentation.  Human-kind is floating in a void of skepticism and meaninglessness, and the only life-line we have is what God has condescended to give us.  But, even with His word, we’re left in the helpless state of finitude.

Believe me, Puritans, there is no theologian or Christian philosopher smart enough to create a rational model that is so thoroughly explanatory that it becomes indubitable, and immune from all criticism.   Such a thing is simply impossible, because such a system would require an infinite amount of detail – infinite, because it would be describing an infinite God.  We finite men are unable to do so.

So, playing the “reason-giving-game” will only lead us into more sophisticated states of irrational finitude.  Better then, to use the tools of the game as a sword, and lay it down in times of peace as opposed to constantly brandishing it to a cowed congregation.

I know this is so, because I’ve read the most sophisticated philosophy of religion and theological models out there, and none of them are final.  None of them are indubitable.  None of them succeed in completing an extensive, rationalized, accounting of our existence.  And none of them ever will.

4.  I’m obliged to include point four with respect to my many orthodox friends:

These guys are constantly harassing me for not joining the orthodox church and jumping on board this new religious bandwagon that is sweeping the alternative right community.

In my mind, they’re trading the sophistry of protestant theological models, for the sophistry of organized bureaucracy.  Christ said His kingdom is “not of this Earth”, and while I know the theologians (both Puritan and Orthodox alike) would have a field day in breaking that statement down, deconstructing it, and explaining away its clear meaning – I can’t help but feel like Christ is plainly telling us that we should be less willing to sell our allegiance to an Earthly bureaucracy, and more willing to give it up to Him.

Neither love for an organization, or love for a set of rational models, can replace a genuine love of Christ.  (To their credit, neither the puritans or Orthodox would claim they do any of the above – the reader can decide the point for himself).

Let the Orthodox be the stomach of the church, and the Puritans be the liver – we’re all part of the same body.


At any-rate, while I may still do apologetics from time to time, I’ve lost almost all desire to contend in the intellectual arena; especially when doing so means battling for the truth of one model over another.

Better to try and demonstrate humanity as it is, in its finite state, through poetry or fiction (as best I’m able).  In this, I think I’ll be joining a long line of European authors and poets.

A Dream of Christ

I had a powerful dream last night … and I promise, there were no drugs or alcohol involved.  I did smoke a cigar earlier in the evening, but I’ve never known that to give me dreams like this.

I don’t think it was a mystical experience or anything, but on the other hand, it was terribly vivid:  I literally met Jesus Christ…I was transported through time to the night before His execution.  There was a crowd of people, milling around and yelling.  I strained to see through them…and caught a glimpse of His clothes.  My heart jumped…

I forced my way through the crowd, and there He was, hanging in a cage.  I ran to Him, but a Roman guard stopped me from getting too close.  I felt helpless, and got the impression this guard represented state tyranny. I fell to the ground in tears, sobbing because I was so close to Jesus, but wasn’t being allowed near enough to speak.

But all of a sudden, the guard bent over in pain, and fell away.

So I approached Christ.

Peter was there already so I’m thinking this took place sometime after his infamous denial but before they put Christ on the cross.  A new guard ran through the crowd to stop us from approaching the cage, but I stopped him.  He had seen what happened to the other, and was cautious.  I assured him we only needed a few minutes with the prisoner then would gladly allow him to return to his job; he nodded, and slunk off.

As I said this, I was enthralled with a sense of authority – I was speaking for God.  I hadn’t caused the first guard to fall away in pain, and yet, I knew who did, and was confident enough to speak to the guard on His behalf.

The irony of all this is, I can’t recall the exact conversation I had with Jesus.  I remember approaching and not being able to look directly at Him or speak at all, initially.  All I could do, was reach out my hand, and touch the bottom of His foot…and when I did, I was able to speak…and glance towards His face.

He had bright yellow eyes, I recall that much.  I remember thinking that, even though He said a few direct words to me, that I was speaking to Him as I usually do in prayer, and that our conversation was very much like a prayer.  And at one point, when I asked Him directly if He really was the God of the universe, He looked at me with a sarcastic look in His eye, implying something like “…come on, you know I am…”

At that point, I could no longer look at Him; I bowed to the ground and cried…I couldn’t stop.

And then He was gone…and I was back to my time, safe in my bed.

For the first time in my life, I got a sense of what it was like to know Jesus as an actual man; to be loyal to Him as a flesh and blood human, who, nevertheless, was a King.  The King of Kings…

The sort of loyalty this inspired, the sort of dedication … is beyond me to describe at the moment.  And whether this was a genuine mystical experience, or a strange result of nicotine and a disturbed mental state, I wont know this side of paradise; but, it has brought me to a new level in my walk either way.

…and my fingers are still tingling from touching His foot.

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To My Lesbian Admirers…

Apparently, my blog has caught the attention of a gaggle of lesbians on that rag-tag blogging site “Tumblr”; they’ve busied themselves with hand-waving, swearing, and offering general outcries of audacity about how backward, disgusting, and disagreeable I am.

Their focus (from what I can tell), seems to be on my advocacy for traditional male / female roles, and how I’ve suggested the cure for feminism might involve a little physical discipline on the part of a dedicated husband (or lover).

One wonders if they’d have all this free time to complain if they were in a kitchen where they belonged…


In all seriousness though, ladies, I’d like you to consider something:

Consider the word “dog”.

Now, when extracted from a sentence, the word is meaningless.  It could describe a furry, four-legged animal.  It could be the name of a famous TV bounty-hunter.  Or, it might simply be a nonsense syllable used to fill space in a song…”dog itta dog a dang a dang dang”.

So, unless we place the word “dog” in a sentence, it is meaningless.

The same can be said of humans.

Unless we have a “context”, then we have no real identity.  Feminism, in its most basic sense, abstracts a woman from her social context, and tries to view her in some abstracted sense, a move supported by jargon like “…it’s the content of her character we’re worried about, not what reproductive organs she may or may not have…”

When a person is abstracted from his or her context…ie: when their sex, race, economic class, religion, language, etc. etc. are disregarded, then the person loses all “personhood” and becomes an abstracted, identy-less, monstrosity.

You all should thank me for putting you back into context, and giving you meaning.

Actually…don’t thank me; thank God.

Jesus Christ set women free, not feminism….



Wrath of the Awakened Filmer

Should he awaken from eternal rest, the great defender of monarchy, Robert Filmer, would be appalled at how far society has fallen since his death in 1653. We know he’d be appalled because those he influenced (in one manner or another) expressed their dissatisfaction with the new “Enlightened” world order and all its emphasis on a cold-hearted egalitarianism, and its rejection of patriarchal familiarity (all made popular by John Locke’s philosophy). M. E. Bradford, paraphrasing Laslett, states the view of Filmer’s contemporary admirers this way:

“Most of us will, as human beings, see that Locke’s description of social arrangements, even after contract has replaced a state of nature, is a cold one and that Filmer’s affectionate patriarchy is sometimes, when we have put our foot wrong, a better help to us than a fierce advocacy of all our own rights” (Bradford, 277).

But the larger question we must ask, isn’t how Filmer would feel, or how cold Enlightenment inspired government systems may be. No. The only way to appease the wrath of an awakened Filmer, is to answer the real question: which form of government is legitimate? His preferred monarchy, or Locke’s “rational” republic? Thus, Filmer has launched us immediately into philosophical speculation. Just what does it mean, exactly, for a government to be “legitimate”?

This question isn’t new on the historical stage; leaders, historians, and philosophers, have been thinking on it for hundreds if not thousands of years. Historian John Abbott, in his book on the history of Russia, when speaking about King Oleg (who ruled parts of Russia in the 900s), says this about legitimacy:

“His usurpation, history cannot condemn. In those days, any man had the right to govern who had the genius of command. Genius was the only legitimacy” (Abbott, chapter II).

Fast-forwarding to the England of Charles the First, we see Oliver Cromwell thinking over issues of legitimacy as well – although, from Filmer’s perspective, he would no doubt be said to have reached dramatically incorrect conclusions. While musing about a political “seal” for their new commonwealth, Cromwell remarked:

“If any man whatsoever have carried on this design of deposing the King and disinheriting his posterity he must be the greatest traitor and rebel in the world.”

But then he goes on to add…

“…but since the Providence of God has cast this upon us, we cannot but submit to Providence.”(Belloc, 276).

So, in other words, “deposing monarchs is bad and all, buuuuuut, we’re gunna do it anyway.” This sort of reasoning, from both Abbott and Cromwell, is indicative of an inherent bias underlying their assessment of questions about legitimacy. Abbott was willing to overlook King Olaf’s egregious breaches of human rights by appealing to a sort of “might-makes-right” legitimacy, whereas Cromwell was willing to overlook the perceived legitimacy of the monarch, by appealing to a puritan notion of Providence.

Around the same time period, John Locke was writing about his views of legitimacy, and like the others mentioned, was just as influenced by underlying bias. Theologian and scholar R.J. Rushdoony, highlights the differences between Locke’s perspective and that of the Westminster Divines, who had earlier penned the great Presbyterian confession:

“…to Locke, the mind of man rather than the mind of God was now the key to the universe. A few years earlier in England, the Westminster Confession had begun with Scriptures (God’s word) and the eternal decree (God’s Plan), as the key to all things. The Confession had been approved in the 1647 General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and ratified by Act of Parliament in 1649. By 1690, a new document, Locke’s Essay, had come into existence as a kind of new confession and standard for Enlightenment man.” (Rushdoony, 286).

Robert Filmer, himself, was biased towards his monarchial views, and was intent on demonstrating how political legitimacy grounded itself in a hierarchical order established by God as part of the creation ordinances. (See chapter II of Filmer’s Patriarcha).

So, when surveying a few opinions on legitimacy, we’re faced with having to choose from a group of positions, all with unique underlying biases and concerns. What counts as legitimate for one person, operating within his framework, may not be legitimate at all when examined from some opposing framework. The awakened Filmer is crying out for a decision though, so I’d like to briefly examine both Locke and Filmer, to see if either can live up to their own standard of “legitimacy”. If one can and the other can’t, then we’ll go with the one who can.

Space does not allow for a thorough examination of either man’s position. So, I’ll be relying mainly on the caricatures of their thought as presented by M.E. Bradford, and William Archibald Dunning. Both scholars (as we’ll see) approach a comparison (and contrast) of Locke and Filmer, by looking at their notion of natural equality. Bradford cites Locke:

“If man in the state of nature be so free as has been said; if he be absolute Lord of his own person and possession, equal to the greatest and subject to nobody, why will he part with his freedom? Why will he give up this empire and subject himself to the dominion and control of any other power? To which tis obvious to answer, that though in the state of nature he hath such a right, yet the enjoyment of it is very uncertain … full of fears and continued dangers [even though every man is king].”(Bradford, 277). The bracketed section was added by Bradford for emphasis.

Dunning emphasizes the importance of this “state of nature” for Locke:

“The state of nature, then, is conceived by Locke as characterized by the consciousness of and respect for those natural rights which are the substantial elements of the law of nature.”

Dunning goes on to say:

“Locke’s state of nature, then, like Milton’s, means nothing more than the relation which exists among men who have no common political superior.” (Dunning, 348).

Filmer, on the other hand, unlike Locke, did not believe in this egalitarian state of nature, where all men were equal in terms of some mysterious natural law. Instead, Filmer, building off of Biblical narratives, conceived of a patriarchal order with a natural hierarchy developed by God, and centering on the rule of the father (or grandfather). From Dunning:

“Filmer thus makes a good case for his conviction that the ultimate principle of political authority is not that of original equality and a contract for the establishment of government. His doctrine as to what the principle is, appeals less strongly to the modern mind. Concisely stated, the doctrine is this: In God’s scheme of creation all earthly dominion or supreme power of controlling persons and things, is of a single kind; there is no distinction between political and economic authority.” (Dunning, 258).

Thus, we have two conflicting foundations for “legitimacy” – one, a legitimacy based on human equality and social contracts, the other, a legitimacy based on divine rights and patriarchal authority.

Once again, space doesn’t allow for a thorough critique of either position, so a critique of Locke’s position must be performed via citation. In this case, it’s generally conceded (by most in the philosophical community) that the Enlightenment optimism, inspired by Locke’s work, ultimately came to naught, and died along with the millions of innocent civilians in the World Wars. Philosopher and historian, W.T. Jones represents this view:

“But [Enlightenment] optimism could not last. Hardly had these beliefs been accepted when they began to be challenged. The application of science to technology, a process that was supposed to result in unlimited improvements of material conditions, actually led to urban slums, in which the lot of the workers was far worse than that of the peasants of the “unenlightened” feudal times…Far from being rational creatures able to control their destinies, men seemed driven by their hates and fears – moved less by enlightened self-interest or by cool benevolence than by irrational and destructive aggressions against one another and even against themselves.” (Jones, 9).

W.T. Jones goes on to point out how the philosophical work of David Hume, and his skepticism about causal inferences, lead to a further loss of confidence in the very sort of empiricism championed by Locke (Jones, 10). It seems that if we take Locke for granted, then we end up mired in a sort of radical skepticism that renders argumentation impossible – let alone ideals of social contracts or concepts of legitimacy.[1]

But if Locke can’t support his ideal of legitimacy, we’re left with Filmer; does he do any better? Well, it seems prima-facie obvious that if Christianity were a true accounting of the world, then the ideals Filmer presented would, in some form or another, be the basis on which we would have to derive our ideals of legitimacy. Further, as many notable thinkers have recognized, the ideal of a natural inequality is an inescapable empirical fact. The great southern political thinker, John Calhoun’s “Disquisition on Government” is a good example of this line of thinking:

“As, then, there never was such a state as the, so called, state of nature, and never can be, it follows, that men, instead of being born in it, are born in the social and political state; and of course, instead of being born free and equal, are born subject, not only to parental authority, but to the laws and institutions of the country where born and under whose protection they draw their first breath.”

I wish Filmer could return to rest, assured the failing ideals of the Enlightenment will give way to a renewed interest in not just his political views, but his religious as well. The forecast for such a turn, however, seems gloomy. Postmodern hipsters are obsessed with their own underlying bias towards egalitarianism (with all its reliance on the irrationalism of Lockean empiricism) and it doesn’t seem like they’re willing to give it up any time soon.


[1] Speculation about how to resolve the philosophical problems raised by Hume, have ranged the spectrum, from continental philosophers like Kant, who said that Hume “awakened him from his dogmatic slumbers”, to contemporary analytical philosophers like Keith DeRose and Ted Warfield, who edited the book “Skepiticsm: A Contemporary Reader” which attempts to deal with, among other things, Hume’s infamous “problem of induction”.


Works Cited

Abbott, John. The Empire of Russia. New York: Boston Graves and Young, 1859. Print. <http://www.gutenberg.org/files/15269/15269-h/15269-h.htm

Belloc, Hilaire. Charles I. 3rd ed. Norfolk, Virginia: Gates of Vienna Books, 2003. Print.

Bradford, M.E. Saints, Sovereigns, and Scholars: Studies in Honor of Frederick D. Wilhelmsen. New York: Peter Land Publishing, Inc., 1993. Print.

Dunning, William A. A History of Political Theories. 1st ed. Norwood, Mass.: Norwood Press, 1905. Print.

Jones, W.T. Kant and the Nineteenth Century. 2nd ed. Belmont, CA: Thomson and Wadsworth, 1975. Print.

Rushdoony, Rousas. The One and the Many: Studies in the Philosophy of Order and Ultimacy. 1st ed. Fairfax, Virginia: Thoburn Press, 1978. Print.



Enter the Celt


I drove out to Knoxville for the Council of Conservative Citizen’s annual Celt Fest, and could feel the Devil’s oppression seep away along with the air pressure.

Whatever might be said of the dark wing of modernity, its shadow stops cold at the foot of the Appalachian mountains.  God’s sun lights those hills.  The warrior spirit of the Scots-Irish is still alive, and the clever merry-making of an ancient Celtic people lives on in the blue-collar traditions of a gruff, but hearty folk.

The higher my altitude, the closer to God I felt.  Seeing nothing but white folk pass you on the highway, is oddly exhilarating.  Stopping at restaurants and being served by bright-eyed young Southerners, or friendly old ladies, is refreshing.  And while I might take flak for this from the Satanists – the mountain air smelled so much better, more alive, and more free, than the afro-sheen haze of low-country metropolachia.

My good friend Tom, along with his family, hosts the event each year.  Tom claims he reads my blog, so I assume if I take any liberties, he’ll correct me.  Best to know that my praise of him isn’t exaggerated in the least:

Tom is, in the words of my friend Matthew Heimbach, one of the most unsung leaders in the alternative right movement.  He’s cocky in the lovable way all honest men have the right to be, but on top of it, he has the wisdom (born by life experience) to temper himself with the right amount of humility and kindness that all the heroes of European novels (and all the heroes of European history) display to their fellows.

His laid-back and archetypically Southern charisma, draws young and old alike to Council gatherings, where they can’t help themselves but to laugh along with his jokes.  Tom’s one of those guys who makes you feel, when you inevitably compare yourself to him, that you’ve never really lived – this man, the man in front of us who looks perfectly at home in kilt and Celtic woad – this man knows what it’s like to live.  The rest of us might have the shadow of a passion if we’re lucky to grab it; Tom has the whole beast.

His brother Levi, who also helps with the event, is, in my view, the spitting image of Owen Wister’s “The Virginian”; if he grew out a handle-bar mustache, he’d be perfect for playing Wyatt Earp in a Western, not just in looks, but in demeanor as well.  Alex has the Celtic gaze Wister gave his hero - light, merry, but willing (at a moment’s notice) to launch into the fiery stare of a warrior.

Of course Levi and Tom are the favorites to win the Celt games; they’ve been doing it longer than most of the others and have developed the proper form and techniques.  Tossing heavy object is, we’ve all learned, more about athleticism and heart, rather than brute strength (although, brute strength doesn’t hurt).

There were gym-rats in attendance; muscle-bound, heavy-built guys, who were itching to toss the rocks.  I also signed up, hoping to test myself against the elements.

It was pouring down rain when Tom grabbed up his tally sheet, called us all to attention, and waltzed out from under the porch.  A band of merry Celts followed him.

It was an epic moment – at least in my mind’s eye.  In slow motion, a group of sopping wet, young, Celtic warriors, many wearing kilts, strode, with looks of determination, toward the battle field.  Imagine us marching out to the “Mohicans” theme…


There, rocks, blocks, and timbers were hurled with the might given to proud men who suffer oppression.  The rain made the ground slick, and some of us lost our footing.

When lurching forward with the largest stone, I tripped; it hit me in the chin, and I dropped it, managing only to get it a few feet in.  The Celts, though, had a spirit of fair play, and I was given a second chance.  I put everything into the throw, launching into it with my entire body, and sent it hurling down the range.

If anything – that’s the theme to take away from Celt Fest.  We have a giant rock to hurl off our people, and it wont budge unless we put everything we have into the effort – all of our strength, all of our anger, and all of our hatred.

We must out-feel the enemy, who, along with their master the Devil, has a cold, mechanistic view of life – the view of a speculator.  They eyeball our women to abuse aesthetic appeal, and our men, to scientifically assess their labor.  They have no sense of the passionate love of Christian hearts, who were raised by the hearth-fires of Dixie.

But as long as men like those within that ten-mile district of Tennessee back-country are alive, the Devil and his millions will shake with fear whenever they hear a Celtic fiddle…




~ Rise of the Techno Tyrants ~


Human kind has reached its horizon,
Our forms no longer trap or bind us.
We’ll quickly escape these boundaries,
An unbridled lust will set us free
From the many ties we used to trust.

Escape we will, for escape we must,
Passionate hunger and endless lust.
It has never been our fate to be,
Human kind

No more slaves to a fleshly carcass,
No death! Immortality marks us!
Metal bones and nuclear energy!
We hate those who love humanity.
We’ll never again be free to trust
Human kind

Why I Haven’t Joined the League

From time to time, I join in discussions with members of the League of the South (my recent participation in their Facebook group for example), and am brought to consider why I haven’t joined the organization or contributed more to her efforts.

It’s not that I disagree with the ideal of secession, nor is it (certainly) a dislike for any of the members.  I find most of them agreeable.  In point of fact, it’s been difficult for me to put a finger on my feelings.

So on this peaceful spring day, while smoking a nice dominican, I considered putting my reasons in form of a list, to try and better-articulate my objections (such as they are). What follows is in no particular order:


1. I can’t get around my view that what we call the “South” needs to break away from the union, and get out from under the yoke of federal tyranny. But my reasons for this are less political – I have no particular love for decentralized constitutional republics – rather, I’m motivated more by a love of the unique culture (in all its diversity, from the Tidewater to Texas) and a desire to see it flourish. To that end, I’d like to see the South governed by a more nourishing political system – which the League is working to promote.

So the first issue I have, I suppose, would be that the League seems more focused (especially lately) on political activism, rather than a fostering of the unique “Cracker Culture” of the south; and while I agree this is a vitally necessary focus, it’s not one that I feel particularly called to devote my energies toward.

2. And building on the first, I sense a particular disdain for the organic elements of uniquely Southern cultural expression. The antipathy towards “redneck mania” and all that, is certainly understandable from the standpoint of a political organization – but, (and maybe I’m biased because I’ve grown up as a “redneck”), I think it deserves a certain amount of respect, even if only grudgingly.

I’d hate to show up at a demonstration and be ushered out of the way of any cameras, so that my redneck musings might not be used against the organization. I wouldn’t want the idea to become entrenched, that rednecks are welcome to don church clothes, show up, hold signs, but are never to let their accents be heard on TV – for fear of running off those who disrespect the Southern aesthetic…as if they’re like the black-sheep uncle at the family reunion, who, we’re happy showed up, but whom we don’t want speaking or causing a ruckus.

3. Further – the economic and religious homogeneity of the South doesn’t seem a powerful enough unifying force to capture the imaginations of the average Southerner enough to generate motivation towards separation.

To that end, we need a literary and artistic revolution; and while it may be naive to suppose that a poem or novel can compete with massive amounts of government school indoctrination and pop-culture propaganda, it seems to be the only option available.

(On this note – I’ve been thinking of starting my own organization aimed at a Southern literary “renaissance”, so that we might, as Donal Davidson said, and I paraphrase … grow the cultural expressions out of the folk, rather than try to impose cultural norms on them from above).

This might provide the League with a larger pool of passionate political activists.

4. And this builds on three … my objection to the black’n’white flag, which I refuse to call the “Southern Nationalist” flag.

It’s fallacious to equate a political organization with a political ideology…which is what is happening when we equate the League of the South with “Southern Nationalism”. An illustration I’ve used before: it would be like calling Republicans “Conservatism”…or claiming that the Republican elephant is *the* symbol of conservatism.

I would hope that if my (as of yet – hypothetical) organization were successful, we might also be considered a part of a southern nationalist movement; yet, I wouldn’t use the black’n’white flag as a rallying symbol.

To the degree that the flag is a flag of the League, I’m fine with it and even realize its utility (the wisdom of “re-branding” is not lost on most politically-minded Southerners). But it grates on me (somehow) to claim the flag is *the* symbol of the emerging South – as if it represents Dixie instead of an institution. It just seems presumptuous to speak of it that way.

5. I’m not all together convinced that “democracy” or courting the masses is allowed by my conscience. I don’t recall my father or grandfather ever doing that sort of thing. I feel uncomfortable with rhetoric along the lines of:

“…let’s study Saul Alinsky; let’s study the jews; let’s study the leftists, and imitate their tactics, so we can be successful like them!”

I don’t want to be successful like them, and I’m not sure the sort of social order I find most desirable can be instituted in the same way they’ve instituted theirs. It certainly wasn’t inaugurated via protests, sign waving, and “get-out-and-vote” campaigns, the first time.

But this objection mirrors my emphasis on cultural change and building awareness that I’ve already highlighted above.


These objections may not seem convincing or serious to anyone, but they’re issues I’m wrestling with, and will likely continue raising among my friends for some time.

VeryVery (Pet Shop Boys album)