Pre-Cambrian Apologetics

Everything bad that happens to me from this point on, I lay at the feet of the author of “Cambria Will Not Yield”.  All the churches I’ll be rejected from and all the polite societies which will give me a cold shoulder (and all the women who ask me what century I’m from) – it’s all because of Mr. Cambria.

I say this tongue-in-cheek of course.  So much the worse for the snooty society-types if they reject a charming fellow like me.

I’ve had an awakening (six years in the making).  A flurry of old-European sparks intertwined with the tiny spark inside of me (an ember of the old Europe I was born with), and now there’s smoke coming out of my overly-sized ears.  Whatever bad comes from it is surpassed by the euphoria of thinking with a whole heart.

I’ll say it scientifically for my modernist readers:  Mr. Cambria was the catalyst for a “meiosis” – notice an emphasis on the “me” sound.  Like a human cell, I’ve been cleaved; my overly-intellectual faith, vying with heart-felt religious sentiment, has finally caused a formal split.

I’ve moved all my “philosophy” and presuppositional apologetics to another blog.  See “Van Tillian Fire” (for what it’s worth).  However much passion I’ve put into this intellectual game (because, in the end, that’s all philosophy is, even the Christian sort), has left me in the exact state Mr. Cambria predicted.

When given too prominent a place, such over-intellectualizing of Christianity can send the potential convert into a downward spiral, ending in the Slough of Despair. Source.

While not a potential convert (I was a zealous ideologue), this still applied.  I was the master of the slough, and visited it regularly.  Combined with a post-military depression, this was all the more devastating.  The lower I sunk, the more diligently I’d study.  I’d read the old Puritans or tomes of systematic theology.  And while I could put an intellectual whopping on Atheists, my studies seemed to drive me further and further from the narrow path of Europe.

Much of this was due to my infatuation with Calvinist theology.  I’m neutral about it now; could I choose, I’d reject it.  But I’m convinced that if we’re going to play the “intellectualizing game”, we’ve got to do so as Calvinists.  Still – I’ve met too many despicable Calvinists.

They’re not even cowards (most of them), because they don’t know what it means to be courageous.  Old European ideals of manliness are foreign to these zealots, who spit on non-theological literature.  (Even those who give lip-service to writings of C.S. Lewis or Walter Scott, for example, do so with an eye towards Reformed deconstruction.  Like the Freudians who read sick psychoanalysis into Hamlet, these Calvinists look for nothing but predestination or some other such doctrine in the great works.)

This plays over into their apologetics and, as popularly conceived, Van Tillian presuppositionalism might rightly be called a hyper-rationalist defense of a systematic set of Christian propositions.

I’ll pause here to add what, as far as I know, is an original observation (although, I’m sure that, as I grow in my studies, I’ll find it in any literature worthy of the name).  Again, I’ll cite this in quasi-scientific terms:

There’s a hierarchy of sorts in the sciences.

We begin on the smallest level with theoretical physics.  Scientists speculate about quarks and sub-atomic particles.  These make up the protons and neutrons in atoms.

From here, we go on to investigate how these atoms relate to each other and how molecules interact to form elements and compounds.  This, we call chemistry.

Of course, chemical reactions are important in understanding how cells operate, and so from Chemistry, we get the study of biology, which itself is broken into microbiology and all other sorts (marine biology, etc.)

From there we get to the entire human organism, the actions of which, due to human freedom, are speculated about by so-called “soft-sciences” like sociology and psychology.

This is where most modernists (and materialists) stop.  The Calvinists however, move a step beyond and study God with their “theology”, which, they’ll have you know, is the “queen of the sciences”.

I’d like to suggest there’s another, even “higher” way of viewing the world, (the monarch who rules the Queen).  It’s this the poets study.  It’s only in literature we get at the true understanding of the world.  That is to say:  God sees the world poetically – His concerns are literary concerns, and His “worldview” is that of a master author.  (And to take a controversial step further: it’s only the old-Europeans who’ve seen the world this way – they alone have read God’s story).

To give a practical example:

The materialists may think of a chair as a series of sub-atomic particles, interacting together in complex relationships.  This leads their philosophers to doubt the existence of chairs all together (hence: we have entire schools of philosophy devoted to metaphysical anti-realism).  The theologians, always quick to give ground to the atheists, usually agree.

It’s the poet who says:  …but that’s my dad’s favorite chair and I wouldn’t have it thrown away for anything.  Every hitch in its seam, every lost penny in its crevice, is worth one hundred times the value of its stuffing.

Here’s where Mr. Cambria is right to call for a “Fairy Tale” apologetics:

The false assumption of the Catholic apologist is that reason alone stands unpolluted by original sin. This is false. Our reasoning faculty is not less tainted than our intuitive or our imaginative faculties. It is by incorporating all our faculties into a vision that we can overcome the taint of original sin enough to say that now we at least “see through a glass darkly.”

The new apologetics then must be like the old apologetics, showing us a vision of the true God through the use of parable, story, and the image of the hero.

And why not reach for people’s hearts instead of their fallen minds?  If the Calvinists are right in their theology, this is what they ought to be doing anyway.  (Much more can be said about this, but I’d be going against the thrust of this post to do so, at least, in a direct “didactic” way).

For years now, (ever since failing to become the heroic Navy SEAL commando I dreamed of as a kid), I’ve been moping through life, cynical about my place on the American plantation and depressed about ever fitting in.

But the other day, while buying a pair of pants, the lady at the register asked me what I did for a living…and without thinking (and without care for being honest), I told her I was an author.  She beamed at me and wondered if she might have heard of anything I’d written.  “Well, not yet” I told her, “…but keep your eyes peeled for me.”

It felt right.

And why not?

I know I’m not as intelligent as C.S. Lewis (and I’m certainly not as passionate as him about writing stories), and I know I’ll never attain the power of Mr. Cambria’s writing.  And while I have a lot of “polishing” to do when it comes to style, overuse of exclamation points, and a sophomoric habit of incorrectly using adjectives, I hope that I, at least, can be a better author than most of what I find in the fiction section of Barnes & Noble.

And put simply – it’s this sort of apologetics I’ve always been inclined to anyway.  Hopefully my short stint with puritanism hasn’t damaged me beyond where I might be of some use to the Kingdom.

And so I’m leaving the era of Pre-Cambrian apologetics and will henceforth wade into a world of Fairy Tales.  And you, dear readers, will (I hope), travel along with me.

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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Babylon


C.S. Lewis wrote that sometimes fairy stories may say best what’s to be said; if only J.K. Rowling (author of the Harry Potter novels) had listened, she’d have learned something.  The second-biggest flaw of the Potter series is how she swaps genres middle-way through, from fairy-tale to something else.  Teen soap-opera maybe?

Images bubble into the author’s mind (says Lewis), at which point they acclimate themselves to some form of expression or other.  Maybe a play?  Maybe a poem?  Maybe an essay?  In his case, images of fawns and lions best fit the “fairy tale” genre…and so the legend of Narnia was born.

I enjoyed the first three of Rowling’s Potter novels the most.  In my view, they were self-consciously “fairy” in their scope.  But with book 4 (Goblet of Fire), we have petty teen romances introduced into the plot, along with the first narrative death in the series.  Rowling, in my view, was pressured by her own rising fame, and thinking to feed the masses, she blurred the genre lines and moved her franchise into more of a drama, struggling to be “literature”.

Better for the art had she ended after four books instead of seven.  Potter, relying on the deep magic of a mother’s love, could have conquered the evil Voldemort in a flashy ending worthy of a Grimm.  Instead, we suffer through all seven years of Hogwarts, watching Harry struggle to maintain shallow relationships with even shallower characters.  There isn’t much character development in a fairy tale, after all.  Imagine following Hansel and Gretel into their highschool years, watching them struggle with love and acceptance?  Absurd!  Developing them as characters would run counter to the purpose of the genre!

Anyway – if Rowling wanted to take the plunge, she should have gone in entirely.  What we get instead, is an in-between story, with the best of the fairy tale genre getting lost in attempts at drama; unsuccessful attempts, because they’re restrained by the fairy tale elements.

Once the shift to teen-drama had been made, the most interesting relationship (by far) was that between Professor Snape and Harry, but due to the half-hearted effort, we never see genuine human emotion from either character.  Snape (probably the real hero of the entire series) is never tempted by genuine love for Harry – instead, he maintains a steadfast, inhuman, hatred towards him.

Anyway – all this is the second biggest flaw with Potter.

What’s the first?

Well, Rowling lets her neo-babelist religion shape the entire series.  What’s evil to a modernist?  Racism!  That’s what!  Or, at the very least, some form of adamant anti-egalitarian sentiment.  Voldemort’s regime of “Death Eaters” are evil because they want wizarding blood lines to remain pure instead of being tainted by “half-bloods” (wizards who marry non-wizards and copulate).

Worse still, Rowling, like all modernists who get their idea of history from government school and the Discovery Channel, tries to re-create a Nazi-like era of oppression when Voldemort finally takes over – achieving instead, a laughable (not to mention, implausible) situation that robs from whatever genuine appeal the novels had to begin with.

What’s sad is that when Harry Potter first hit the news, he was protested by fundamentalist Christians because, of all things, he uses a wand, does magic, and went to a school of “Witchcraft and Wizardry”.

What the Christians should have been more worried about is the way “Muggles” (a morbid caricature of fundamentalist / puritanical Christians) had an irrational and cartoonish fear of witches, ending with this from the mouths of Potter fans:  “Oh dad, stop being a silly muggle!  You need to accept flagrant and immoral lifestyles else you’re a square!”

On top of it all, evil incarnate is a “racist” who simply wants to keep wizarding blood pure.

This is the sort of tripe the neo-babelist churn out.  They have accepted evil as good and good as evil, so in effect, they’ve lost all notion of what real evil is like.

Only after accepting the existence of real evil can a fairy tale be written with force.  In the same way, a good drama must also accept real evil.  The author can’t get at real tragedy otherwise; and without a real sense of the tragic, there cannot be what Tolkien called a “Eucatastrophe” – a climax of emotion leading to an explosion of positive sentiment (the ultimate eucatastrophe, says Tolkien, was the resurrection of Christ.  All stories, to be truly good, must imitate that Great Story).

Unfortunately, the “teen-fiction” shelves at Barnes & Noble are chocked full of similar such neo-Babelist writings, all of them biased; all of them lacking.

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My Father’s World – A Cesspool Event


This is my Father’s world,
and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.

This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

Oh, the dim oppression of modernity, slouching over me like an impish blanket to dampen out the fumes of my smoldering Saxon wrath.  Even the weather, uncharacteristically gloomy for a Carolina fall, was conspiring with the devil, intent on sinking my spirits with all its cool drizzle and melancholy breezes.  But then my cellphone rang.  I was in the library of my community college, working on a paper about how evil European Christian males are (they can’t be otherwise for an “A” paper.)  But as I said – my phone rang.

It was none other than the great radio personality James Edwards on the other end!  His voice roused me from the hum-drum mood of liberaldom and that smoldering Saxon wrath I mentioned, blazed anew.  Edwards had sounded the rallying cry.  “Come to Memphis” he said to me.  “The Cesspool is celebrating its 10th anniversary, and I want you there.”

Then Rohan will answer!

I’m no Theoden of course, but the poetry of the situation wasn’t lost on me.  I was going to Memphis, though Hell should bar the way.  James had called me personally, and I aimed to make it.

Weeks later, I hopped in the car and made the trek through the lowlands of Carolina.  I’ve said before how the higher the altitude the closer to God, and my maxim held its truth.  Travel west through Carolina and you’ll notice, around Hickory, the populace gets…erm…lighter, if you catch my drift.  The further up the mountain one travels, the, erm, lighter the scenery.

My friend Tom lives at the apex of this last-bastion-of-old Europe.  I picked him up in Knoxville, and we headed down to Memphis together.  My maxim holds true in reverse it seems – the lower you get, the less …aw Hell, let’s dispense with niceties, (I’m not expecting an “A” on this paper)…there’s lots of darkies down that way.  And given what we’d all heard of Memphis crime rates, we were all packing heat.

Tom, especially, always reminds me of one of the old Scots-Irish heroes in a Louis L’Amour novel.  If we were going to have trouble, he’d be the guy I’d want in my foxhole.  Wiry in strength, strong in constitution, Tom (I’ve often said) is one of the best community organizers we’ve got.  He exhibits the old-world Christianity present in the wild men of Appalachia who were able to kill Indians in one minute, while hugging their daughters the next (that’s daddy!)

We made it with few adventures to speak of.  On arrival, we teamed up with my buddy Flowers, (we chant “White Flowers” when he walks by), and the infamous Heimbach (the “future of organized hate”).  Both men, icons in their own right, when together, make the sort of team I call “Hell-Shakers” – because they make Hell shake with fear.

Put all of us together and you might get some idea of what Edwards had managed to pull off.

The Cesspool event, it should be said, was the first I’d ever felt completely at home in.  There’s something too pagan and intellectual about AMREN (not that I’m complaining about AMREN – Taylor provides a wonderful venue and has done a lot of good work).  There’s something too low-brow about Stormfront (again – not saying anything bad about Stormfront conferences – they, too, have done a lot of good).  League of the South events are slightly better, but tend to be too political and group-oriented (although, I don’t suspect they’re aiming to be other than what they are, so I don’t fault them for a shortcoming at this point).  Edwards, however, managed the right mixture of Faith and Folk – and managed it very well.

The dinner that night was amazing – the cilantro and pork, mixed with rice and sweet potato casserole…mmmmy mouth is still watering.  Those Cesspool guys know how to throw a party.  I’ll give them that.

I met the Kinist godfather that evening and sat next to him during the meal.  Imagine getting to sit next to the editor of Spirit / Water / Blood for a meal?  I’ve often said is the brain of Kinism, Cambria Will not Yield is its heart, and, by God, S/W/B is its balls! (Or used to be anyway – hopefully we’ll get a re-launch in the near future).

I wont recount or summarize the speakers at the event; someone else is writing an article about them.  All I’ll say is that they were each inspiring, making me dream of joining the radio business one minute, and wanting to start my own corporation the next.  Combined with these practical talks, was a lecture on Nathan Bedford Forrest and the Ft. Pillow “massacre” which was  about as much of a massacre as the Trayvon shooting was.  That is to say – the official account has been dubiously inflated by Satanists to the detriment of the old South.

History and practicality having been effectively combined, my friend Nathan Strickland, editor of the Kinist webzine “Faith and Heritage”, took the mic to give an excellent presentation which mixed theology into the batch.  As far as we knew (the godfather and I), this was the second time a formal presentation of Kinism had been offered to an audience – a historic event, if I do say so m’self.

Strikland got off lucky – there wasn’t time for questions and answers.  My friends and I had planned to throw him all sorts of curve balls to unnerve him.  “Isn’t it true”…I was going to ask, “that Kinism necessarily requires the formation of sub-cultural groups, like the so-called ‘bronies’ for example?”  We’ll get you next time, Strikland.

At one point, some of us drove down to the Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated.  We “trolled” the place with first-rate expertise.  Heimbach, the most notorious racist in the country, along with me (the famed CPAC racist), Tom and Flowers…we could almost feel the blood of King Jr. crying out from the walls.  “Get dem honkies outta heah! And where da white wimminz is?”

I don’t want to belabor a point, but I have to stress how perfectly balanced this Cesspool event was.  Good friends, good people, and good speakers.  So much of the advocacy for our people is morbid, profanity-laden, pessimism – not so the Cesspool.  Edwards’ work ignites in me the same hope I feel when looking at a sunset, or when looking out over the Appalachians.  His show (and this event in particular) left me feeling inspired and uplifted.

I remembered that this is my Father’s world.  The rocks and seas, the skies and trees!  All of it!  There’s not a square inch whereupon He does not cry: “MINE”.  It’s about time an organization remembered that.  Thank God for Edwards and the Political Cesspool.

As a post-script, I should add (although it might anger the puritans among us), that if it’s true, as the old Southern mystics suggest, that God allows fallen saints to return to Earth for a time to watch over their loved ones, then I’m positive the entire weekend’s events were watched over by the late Bill Rolen.  The man’s spirit was very much in attendance.  When James mentioned him by name, I’m man enough to admit, I teared up a little.

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Shotgun vs. the Man-o-Sphere


Be warned dear readers: this post contains personal admissions:

I’ve been harsh on the ladies of late – many of whom have publicly accused me of cowardice among a host of other unpleasant things.  It’s all because I’ve suggested men should take whatever measures necessary for curing our feminine wards of the ravishes of Jacobin wizardry.  To say it plain: I believe if you smack around a good woman she’ll give up her feminism.

The outcry has been horrendous to say the least.  I’ve spared my readers the majority of the comments.

My apologies to you harpies but, it’s not just me that feels this way.  Thousands of disgruntled would-be “alphas” are taking to the net to vent their frustrations against the matriarchy, prompting a movement known as “manosphere”.  These fellows are characterized by their profanity-filled posts written with hip lingo which are focused on all the short-comings of the weaker sex.

Many, like author Matt Forney, go so far as to suggest oppressed white men seek out mates among Asians who are supposedly more chaste, submissive, and generally more agreeable in every way than the average American harpy.

I understand the appeal of sexual adventurism in exotic locales – you can’t spend time in the Navy without feeling the allure of it. And I certainly understand the disgust towards feminism (which has thoroughly inundated well over 90 percent of American women).

But something about Forney’s article (and the manosphere in general) rubs me the wrong way. I want old Christian Europe, or nothing at all, and damn-it-all if I don’t intend to have it.

On the other hand, Terrys only love once, and the love of my life married another man years ago.  So what’s left for me other than crass hedonism?

Between a Quixotic fairy-tale and a hedonistic hard-place … that’s where I am.

Still, no amount of personal uncertainty can pave over the disgust I have when I read these man-o-sphere types disparage the fairer sex, or speak about them as if they’re on a level with the rest of us.  It’s this sort of egalitarianism the manosphere should be avoiding!  And however mangled daughters of Eve have become (and they’re pretty mangled), they’re always going to be the bearers of God’s creative beauty and winsome cleverness.

After all, God created everything else in the universe before He created women.  They’re His crowning achievement; more glorious than the Leviathan, more beautiful than the blue-ridge mountain ranges – more angelic than even the angels!  God has given man woman.  The second-greatest gift (next to Christ) ever given.

We ought to be ashamed if we abandon them to the ravages of the devil.

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The League vs. Abbeville

draytonhallAbbeville Institute’s James Ruteledge Roesch has written an interesting article lamenting the anti-Southern bias inherent in our conquerors.  He mentions Ol Miss being forced to give up its mascot in favor of a less offensive one (among other travesties).

The Persians and Romans at least had the decency to respect the people they conquered; the Assyrians and Babylonians on the other hand, forced their victims to give up their cultures and miscegenate with the invaders.  This, says Roesch, is the fate of the South, whose been conquered by the United States of Assyria.

Better he should have said the United States of Babylon; no other organization is promoting satanic Babylonian ideals like us yanks.

This is all good commentary except Roesch goes on to say:

Although there is a time for protesting, the fate of Southern heritage ultimately depends on changing the hearts and minds of the people. To do that, Southerners cannot only take to the streets waving Confederate flags, but must win the war of ideas.

While he doesn’t mention the League of the South here, he obviously has them in mind.

What makes this so asinine is how Roesch offers the obligatory line:

Slavery, of course, should not be endorsed, but it does not follow that any trace of master-slave relations, even an affectionate term of endearment, should be abolished.

Wait…Slavery should not be endorsed?

Why the hell is Roesch supporting the South then?!  He may as well say:  the slave-based hierarchical social order which supported the entire Southern way of life and culture, should not be endorsed. But that just is to say:  he has accepted the Babylonian indoctrination which his entire article is meant to oppose!

How can he lecture the League of the South about “focusing on hearts and minds” when he’s already given up the battle for the hearts and minds?!  Either Roesch is too afraid to speak positively about slavery, or he’s genuinely sold on Yankee propaganda that slavery is an evil.  In either case, the force of his argument is lost.

The League of the South, on the other hand, has enough foresight to see that the majority of American “hearts and minds” are already bought and paid for by Babylon and the best thing we can do is break fellowship with them; form our own nation and re-build (through independence) a new sense of national identity.

You can’t grow strong hearts without strong soil to plant them in James.

Posted in Defending Dixie | Tagged , , | 21 Comments

The Unreconstructed Social Construction

While I have a lot of disagreements with both Spencer and Colin, they’re always informative and help me better understand my own position (even if only in reaction to what they’ve provided).

Listen to their “Wandering Scot” podcast here.

Colin gives a helpful rundown of UK politics, putting the referendum vote into context for us non Scotsmen. But, perhaps surprisingly for many in the dissident right, Spencer goes on to explicitly reject “ethnic nationalism” as outdated. We need a “new political theory” moving forward; perhaps, suggests Spencer, some sort of pan-European cosmopolitan-esque multiculturalism(?!).

Whatever we might say about Spencer’s suggestion here (and whatever merits it might have), I feel like there’s a glaringly-obvious answer to managing “empires” that wasn’t even mentioned – in fact, it may be too taboo to mention, even among dissident rightists…

Slavery! Or, if slavery is too harsh for delicate modern palates, why not at least  a re-organization of the social stratum bringing back to life the old ideas of European hierarchical relationships? I can understand this not being a knee-jerk position, but in the dissident right, shouldn’t it at least be an option?

God created the world to reflect His hierarchical nature. This “great chain of being” model of social interaction seems to fit best with medieval “feudalism”. Why stick with modernism and all its inherent satanism by creating a new multicultural order, when our ancestors had a perfectly workable social system already enacted?

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If Only Jim and George Had Been Christian…

As some of you know, I’m taking an ethics course this semester.  We’re in the preliminary stages of discussion, hashing out different views.  Our textbook rejects Divine Command theory early in chapter one.  Only silly people believe a god speaks to them about moral issues, after all.  In a few weeks we’ll be covering topics like abortion and racism.  I can’t wait.  I’ve decided to let my opinions fly; damn the consequences.  With any luck, I’ll be the first North Carolinian expelled for unpopular political views.

I can’t believe how naive I was a few years ago when I started college. I thought I might stumble on a teacher of the likes of Mr. Cambria or Laurel Loflund, or some old-European-in-guise-of-modern-liberal who pours through his students’ material, waiting to find a living soul to take under his wing. What a fantasy that was. There’s nothing but Satan as far as the eye can see in academia. The sooner I’m out, the better.

Here was my response to the most recent discussion question.  I got a one-hundred for my work.  The teacher’s being fair, at least for now…(he has no idea what he’s in for).

Describe Bernard Williams’ accounts of George the Chemist and Jim the Botanist.  What point does Williams try to make with these illustrations?  How does this relate to Utilitarian theory?  (Be sure to include a clear definition of utilitarianism in your post.)

“Utility” is that quality or state of being “useful” (however that might be defined), so naturally “utilitarianism” is the idea that our moral decisions ought (!) to be made on the basis of how useful their consequences (one wonders if being a utilitarian is useful and if so, how?  And if not, we’ll have a hard time figuring out why we ought to be utilitarians without first having to reject utilitarianism at the outset!)

Williams’ essay is critical of the theory (and rightly so, as we’ll see), although he doesn’t go far enough in this humble student’s opinion.  He uses poor George and Jim as fodder for his philosophical illustrations, putting the men (both hapless, lab-coat-wearing pagans) into difficult moral dilemmas their training at the university hadn’t prepared them for.

(In Williams’ illustration, George is a chemist who has moral qualms about building chemical weapons.  He’s told that if he doesn’t take the job, a more zealous chemist will take it and perhaps move the industry along quicker.  If George takes the job, he would hate his daily work, but he might manage to slow production of weapons.  It’s suggested that the “utilitarian” thing for George to do, would be to take the job so the other, more-zealous chemist, can’t get it).

We might quibble with Williams’ illustrations.  George the chemist is urged to take a job working on weapons of war with the promise that, should he not accept the position, another more eager chemist will get the job.  Of course, if this war-mongering chemist is so zealous, he’ll find a way to fulfill his life’s passion be it at the current position or elsewhere.  Any work George does to stave off this fellow’s zeal will, itself, ultimately add to the body of chemical weapons knowledge.

Still – even if we take George’s situation at face value (without quibbling over the finer points of the illustration), it seems he’s still in a jam.  Williams notes that, while the utilitarian may have a clear cut idea of the moral “good” in this situation, upon reflection, it seems more complicated; especially when we begin considering the utility of George’s moral feelings and what sort of damage might be done to his integrity and sense of self.

Jim the Botanist is used for the same purpose – his situation serves to “slow-the-role” of the utilitarian who might be too hasty in ascribing moral judgments to the situation at hand.  More must be considered, says Williams, most notably, the subjective emotional states of those making the moral decisions.

From page 43:

“The reason why the squeamishness appeal can be very unsettling, and one can be unnerved by the suggestion of self-indulgence in going against utilitarian considerations, is not that we are utilitarians who are uncertain what utilitarian value to attach to our moral feelings, but that we are partially at least not utilitarians, and cannot regard our moral feelings merely as objects of utilitarian value.  Because our moral relation to the world is partly given by such feelings, and by a sense of what we can or cannot “live with,” to come to regard those feelings from a purely utilitarian point of view, that is to say, as happenings outside one’s moral self, is to lose a sense of one’s moral identity; to lose, in the most literal way, one’s integrity.”

Williams brushes close to the truth with these concluding remarks.

On the Christian view, every man is created with moral faculties which, if properly functioning, produce in him a sense of “squeamishness” at the idea of moral evils, from petty to the large.

Imagine George having an old-world sense of medieval nationalism, where love for his own kith and kin outweighed his hippy-like qualms about weapons.  In that case, he might see the creation of martial deterrents as a profound good, one that has the potential to keep many of his compatriots free from worry about invasions.

And what of our friend Jim?

(Jim is a botanist in a South American jungle who stumbles upon a tribal conflict.  A local military thug has his platoon’s rifles trained on 20 innocent indians.  He suggests that if Jim agrees to shoot one of the indians, he’ll let the other 19 go.  Williams says the obvious utilitarian move is to shoot the one innocent man to save the other 19.)

Jim the utilitarian may make the cold decision to kill an innocent man.  Jim the Christian, realizing he’s not omniscient, and realizing no end to any story is written in stone, might echo King Theoden in “Return of the King” who, when told of the seemingly insurmountable might of the army of Mordor, replied:  “We’ll meet them in battle none the less!”  All the innocent Indians may have died, Jim along with them, but he’d have died in a last-ditch effort to uphold the honor and “integrity” (to use Williams’ word) inherent in his Christian heart.

Neither of the alternative scenarios I’ve presented might appeal to the utilitarian modernist but it’s a guarantee that both George and Jim (if he survives) would sleep lightly, with no demonic qualms eating at their conscience.

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Fer the sak o’ the we’ens!

Vote “Yes!” to Scottish Independence!

That’s my opinion.

Sure – others in the dissident right have suggested a break up of the union wouldn’t be in anyone’s interest, (also, check out this Takimag article, but be warned, it’s full of profanity) but the Romantic in me can’t help but stir at nationalist sentiment.  Both sides of the debate have offered biting criticisms.

Those against secession have threatened everything from economic collapse to a severe whisky drought, should the Scots vote “yes”.

Some (here in America, anyway) have suggested that if Scotland leaves the union, the UK political climate would make a radical shift to the right.

If there’s one thing we know about political predictions – they’re almost always wrong.  No one knows the future, least of all political commentators.

I say – let the Scots have their independence; they’ll maintain close ties of confederacy with the UK, certainly.  And if they spiral into multicultural depravity all the quicker for their secession (as some suggest will happen), well then, all the better for us.  We’ll watch their fall and learn (if anything can be learned) from their mistakes.

Another possible good:  should they be successful, it might be the spark needed to ignite other European nationalist movements?

nationsOn the Occitan party – I’m reading a book right now about the counter-Revolution in France and it centers mostly around Occitania.

During the French Revolution, the largest pockets of resistance to the pro-Republican, Jacobin terror, were in the south of France, especially centering around Lyon. They were royalist and conservative to the man and they made sure they killed as many of the Revolutionaries as possible.

I wonder if there is any of that old spirit left? Cobb (the author of the book I’m reading) says the counter-revolution was generational in that region and had become part of the fiber of their culture…but that was in the early 1800s.

As for the Scots:

I’m a little jealous they get to simply “vote” themselves out of the Union.  That tells me that their secession isn’t as healthy as we would like.  It’s not comparable to the South’s leaving the North here in America.  The pro-democracy, modernist mindset is still present.

But in the end, the break up of power, at least in this day and age, is always a good thing.

I’m praying for you, Scotsmen…

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Oh the Naivete’ of Me!

I made a rash comment recently.  Rash, but sincere:

“If I ever meet the Queen of England, I’m making a public scene.

I’ll walk up to her, bow, and pledge my undying devotion to both her and the crown, noting that, while I’m aware she commands vast resources, should she ever need it, my noble heart will make up for whatever nobility my blood lacks, and that all the chivalry Sir Walter Scott has merged into it is hers to do with as she pleases.”

I wondered if she would knight me on the spot.

My friends, expressing typical cynicism, said I’d get a beat-down by her security at best.  At worst, she might actually do it, adding me to the ranks of sick sexual perverts and blood-thirsty oligarchs.  (The round-table is looking a little multicultural these days).

But this fever of loyalty, even if only to a quasi-legitimate crown, has afflicted far better men than myself and while I was still in its throes (I think I’ve come to my senses, but I could relapse any minute), I said it would be better to think of me, in that scenario, as wresting a historical title from the hands of second-rate brigands.  (I used those exact words).

Ok, I admit: I’ve always been a little naive.

But I’ll expect everyone’s apologies on the day I actually meet the queen.  Because of this rash comment I’ll have something already in mind to say (instead of jabbering unintelligently and missing out on a great moment).  The more grief I get for being naive, the more likely God is to set up such a meeting.  He has a sense of irony – that’s one truth more certain than anything in a systematic theology text.

Still, I might contrive to make the meeting happen.  On some weekends I’ve been driving to Richmond and surveying the night life.  I happen to know that the great Margaret Thatcher’s granddaughter is presently attending university there and, well…stranger things have happened.

I also happen to know Richmond was (a few years back) the scene of terrible “flash mob” riots.  The very heart of the Confederacy, subject to animal degeneracy!  ~ sigh ~

The thought of that beautiful young woman surrounded by salivating creatures… (my readers should insert the appropriate curses and otherwise descriptive terms for them; I trust your imaginations).

If any of you feel that fire in your guts at the thought … well, my friends, that means you’re one of the living.

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The List of Ten…

A challenge circulated around Facebook recently:

List 10 books that have stayed with you in some way. Don’t take more than a few minutes and do not think too hard. They do not have to be the “right” books or great works of literature, just ones that have affected you in some way.

A lot of people (including myself) did think too hard.  How could we not when considering such a personal subject?  I suppose normal Americans are flippant about their reading, or reading might only be a small part of their lives – but my reading material is a life preserver; it’s all that’s keeping me in contact with the pre-60′s (pre-apocalypse) Europe.  Excuse me for taking a few extra minutes.

I guess I’m not as intelligent as many of my friends because they listed grand works of theology and philosophy, while the majority of my list is fiction.  Don’t get me wrong: I’m not accusing anyone of dishonesty or bad motives, but really…how can someone list Calvin’s “Institutes” as a book that greatly influenced and / or stayed with him over the years?  I’ve tried reading it and can’t get past the first chapter without falling asleep or getting so frustrated with the abstract verbosity, I have to quit.  As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a single work of theology or philosophy that has ever affected me emotionally or offered me anything other than a few convenient arguments I might use against atheists.

Nor is my list profoundly ideological or “conservative”.  Benjamin Wiker wrote “10 Books Every Conservative Must Read”, and while he lists some classics (like Burke’s “Reflections on the Revolution” and Belloc’s the “Servile State”), only one of them actually made it to my list:  Tolkien’s “Return of the King”.  I feel the need to apologize to some of my friends; it’s almost as if they’re more high-minded and concerned for the fate of the west because their material is political and conservative.  Pat Buchanan, Francis Parker Yockey, Oswald Spengler, all made multiple lists, while I have children’s stories.  Well, it’s likely true that my friends are more intelligent (and thus have higher-minded material on their lists), but at the same time, (and with no desire to defend myself from the charge of being unintelligent), I’d hate for some of the books on my list to be given less than their due.  They’re just as biting, in their own way, I would argue, as anything written by Buchanan, and far more true than the opinions of Spengler.

On a final note (before revealing my list), I hope parents read this with a hint of caution.  I read many of these books long before graduating high-school; they struck me emotionally in my formative years and will likely always be some of the most influential books I’ll ever have read.  So, were I you (not telling anyone how to run their business), I’d keep all the “teen fiction” so popular at Barnes-&-Noble decidedly out of their reach, supplementing instead with the classics.

These are not listed in any particular order; I couldn’t place them in order of influence or importance even if I wanted to.  So, here’s my list (for what it’s worth):

1.  Body by God ~ Dr. Ben Lerner

I’ve developed quite the library of alternative health and fitness material since reading this.  Looking back, it’s not the most well-written or informative of them all, but it was the first of the genre I ever read.  My sister gave this to me as a gift one Easter (she knew I was trying to be a Navy SEAL at the time, so she thought it would be helpful).  Dr. Lerner’s book introduced me to the world of alternative and holistic healing and convinced me of the importance of organic agriculture.

2.  Last of the Breed ~ Louis L’Amour

My dad made sure we grew up with a love for the wilderness; additionally, Louis L’Amour was a staple in our house.  Last of the Breed is, arguably, his best novel.  I read it when I was young and just beginning to recognize the political injustice in America (Bill Clinton had just won the Presidency for the first time and many Conservatives were demoralized).  There couldn’t have been a worse time (as far as liberals were concerned) for a boy to read Last of the Breed.  I read it during the upswing of the militia movement, when taking to the woods to fight off tyrants was being romanticized in flea markets, gun shows, and early morning diner conversations the country over.

3.  The Lord of the Rings ~ Tolkien

I initially listed “Return of the King” because it was the most striking of the trilogy, but I learned that Tolkien meant for all three to be a single volume originally.  Due to paper rations during the War, they had to be published separately.  And again, thanks to my father, these were a staple in my house; we had Bilbo read to us before bed time.  I’m convinced the best way to read Tolkien’s masterpiece is when it’s infused with a personal sense of nostalgia.  I feel sorry for people who never had it read to them as children.  (The same goes for Lewis’ Narnia series).

4.  1984 ~ George Orwell

Clinton had been in office for a few years when I finally discovered Orwell.  The negros made government school lunch-rooms off limits.  Any poor white boy who lingered would be attacked or otherwise publicly humiliated.  So I spent that time in the library at a little table in the corner.  I’d read books to escape the oppressive reality of school.  What Satan meant for evil, God meant for good – because I discovered the dust-covered world of old Europe.  Unfortunately, though, I stumbled over Orwell’s book.  The blurb on the back suggested the hero Winston lived in an oppressive society and gradually found the means to resist and overcome it.  Another “Last of the Breed” triumph against tyranny, I thought.  I eagerly read it.  By the torturous end, I was sick to my stomach and infuriated.  I was innocent until reading Orwell.

5.  War Crimes Against Southern Civilians ~ Walter Cisco

I was grown and familiar with the scholarly world by the time I read this.  I remember thinking it was light on citations.  I was hoping for more information and better resources.  But what the book lacks in scholarship, it more than makes up for in zeal.  Until reading it, I had a passive pride in my Southern history and thought of the War in terms of quaint weekend travels, seeing historical sites or watching reenactments.  This book made Northern atrocities personal.

6.  Man Alive ~ G.K. Chesterton

I’ve spoken about my post-military depression on this blog (multiple times), so it should be no surprise to my readers.  At the height of my military career, I was a respected member of my unit, decorated, on my way towards being a Navy SEAL, when I had my heart broken by a woman.  Also, at the same time, I had become convinced my service was a sham and that American foreign policy was evil.  In the short space of a year, my entire identity unraveled, I lost the girl of my dreams, and realized I had spent the better part of my adult life pursuing service to the Devil.  This was all on top of the normal depression military veterans feel when transitioning to civilian life.  There were some dark times and I likely wouldn’t be here right now if not for having randomly stumbled across Chesterton’s “Man Alive”.  If life has never forced you into asking major existential questions, consider yourself blessed.  For those of us who have been there – Chesterton’s story is better than any “self-help” manual or disingenuous comfort from pretentious, meddling pastors.

7.  Quentin Durward ~ Sir Walter Scott

Of course, God doesn’t strike major blows to our lives if He doesn’t intend on building us back up better than we were.  I gradually discovered old Europe through the literature of Sir Walter Scott (and through the blogging efforts of a few angelic individuals).  I’ll spare the autobiographical notes, and just say that all of Walter Scott’s writings (at least, all I’ve read thus far) have inspired me, but this one in particular, because it’s about a knight in a land that does not necessarily share his values.  Durward is a foreigner…like all of us are foreigners in this world.  And he’s opposed by a twisted intellectual who is rich, commands armies, and relies on devilry for inspiration.

8.  That Hideous Strength ~ C.S. Lewis

Subtitled “A Modern Fairy Tale For Grown Ups”, this was the first book I ever read that really made me a conservative.  Of course, I’d have all of C.S. Lewis’ works on this list if I could, and by only listing this one, I don’t mean to downplay the importance of the rest – but this one really stands out for me.  It’s a book I’ll re-read over and over and should a time ever get fixed for my death, it (and not excluding the Holy Scriptures of course) will likely be the last book I ever read. Wiker lists “Abolition of Man” as one of the 10 books every conservative should read, but Lewis says “Abolition of Man” was his attempt to state (in non-Fiction) the point of Hideous Strength.  If a person doesn’t grasp Lewis’ point in “Hideous Strength”, he’ll likely not get it when stated directly in “Abolition”.  We true “Conservatives” are in a spiritual battle against those who seek to overthrow all Godly order in the world and institute a “scientific” (read: Satanic) dystopia.  No one makes this plainer than Lewis.

9.  The High King ~ Lloyd Alexander

This was another book I discovered while fleeing from the harsh reality of government school.  The entire “Chronicles of Prydain” series is splendid (with the exception of book 4 “Taran Wanderer”, which, on some interpretations, could have a contemporary egalitarian theme).  Based loosely on old Welsh legends, Alexander introduces children to a world of honor and old-world social mores, with entertaining characters and magical stories.

10.  All Creatures Great and Small ~ James Herriot

Soon after discovering 1984, while scrounging around in the same library, I stumbled over Herriot’s autobiographical books, describing his time as a veterinarian in the English country side.  Of course, I was so badly educated at the time, I didn’t realize where the books were set; I was well into the second book before realizing it was all supposed to be taking place in England.  Herriot showed me there was profound good in the world, even in spite of Orwell’s vision.  I loved these books so much, I began volunteering at the local vet clinic.  I remember the Vet (Dr. Jones, I believe his name was), snickering when I told him I wanted to be a veterinarian after reading Herriot.  “We’ll cure you of that” I remember him saying.  I’ll spare the grisly details, but he was right in the end.  Still – Herriot’s writings have stuck with me to this day.

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