Posts Tagged 'trying to talk politics without talking politics'

What does the term “educated class” actually mean?

In an exchange on Facebook yesterday where I outed myself as a godless commie pinko (I think that noise was Owen White blowing beer through his nose onto the library computer screen) because I think FOX is ridiculous in claiming that the Muppets are radical leftist propaganda, I mused that being part of the “educated class” (which, so we’re clear, I put in scare quotes and qualified by saying, “whatever that actually means”) seems to automatically place one to the left of most who publicly identify as “conservative”.

So what does the term “educated class” actually mean? About a year ago I was having a conversation with a friend about NPR as a source for news. I expressed appreciation for what seemed to be, on the whole, a lack of FOX News-style hyperbole; my friend said, “Well, it’s certainly the news outlet of choice for the educated class.” I’m sure that I had encountered the term “educated class” before, but not in a way struck me as being a discrete, identifiable category, and I’ve been chewing on it every so often over the past year.

Of course, in the past year, I’ve finished a Masters degree and completed doctoral coursework, so that makes me part of the so-called “educated class,” whatever that actually means, right…? I don’t know. Some initial poking into how the term actually gets used in public discourse turned up some not terribly conclusive references — it seems to be a term that neo-cons and moderates and “RINOs” use to pick cultural fights with each other more than anything. I’m half-tempted to see it as one of those terms like “moderate” where really it’s a label that allows for self-identification apart from distasteful extremes and is another way of saying “people like me”. It still seems, to me at least, that members of the “educated class” follow gut instinct as much as anybody else does, it’s just that we can back up our gut instinct with books you can’t find at Wal-Mart. Is that actually any better? I don’t know.

Since I’m not really sure whether or not to take it seriously, here is a half-serious/half-not look at what I think makes me part of the “educated class” (whatever that actually means):

  • I have multiple degrees and am still trying to get more.
  • I mostly hang out with people who have multiple degrees and/or are still working on more of them.
  • I am married to somebody with multiple degrees who is still working on more.
  • When I move (and remember I’m married to another academic), the single most expensive part of the move will be figuring out what to do with all of the books.
  • I belong to more academic societies than I will have degrees.
  • I assume that the people who write the books I read don’t make any money off of them.
  • I travel for conferences.
  • I actually attend conferences.
  • There are conferences for people in my field.
  • I have a “field”.
  • When I think of “conservatives” I think of people like David Gergen, Russell Kirk, and Rod Dreher. Names like Sarah Palin and Dick Cheney come to mind when I think of “angry and/or creepy white people”.
  • I get frustrated that what is presented as conservatism today seems to ignore its own intellectual history.
  • I think conservatism has an “intellectual history”.
  • I think there’s such a thing as “intellectual history”.
  • I think it’s weird that it’s spelled “conservatism” rather than “conservativism”.
  • I’d like to think that public discourse doesn’t have to be lowest common denominator in order to be effective.
  • I’ve read all of Ayn Rand’s major works (including some of her “non-fiction”) and I still think it’s not only intellectual garbage but bad literature.
  • I have to concede, with regret, that conservatives, at least in the last few decades, tend to produce lousy art.
  • I tend to agree with Paul Krugman that Newt Gingrich is a stupid person’s idea of what a smart person sounds like. I also think that tends to apply to Ayn Rand.
  • I think that “What do you read?” is a friendly, getting-to-know-you question. I’d love it if Katie Couric asked me that.
  • I’m weary of Republicans claiming that their willingness to eat their own is what separates them from the Democrats, when it is obvious to me that it isn’t true.
  • I’m aware that NPR isn’t free of bias but it’s nice to hear rational adults talking like rational adults, rather than watching either plastic people trying to buddy up to me over the anchor desk or angry white people yelling at me or each other about how a president who is to the right of Nixon on some points is a radical socialist.
  • I can tell you that Theodosius, not Constantine, made Christianity the official state religion of the Roman Empire.
  • Even as an Orthodox Christian, I don’t think that science is a secular conspiracy theory, and as such I think science has implications and consequences for my behavior and choices — much as Christianity does.
  • I actually want my hypothetical future kids to learn languages other than English.
  • I actually believe there’s a connection between what academics do and what happens in the real world.
  • I don’t see being articulate (read: “being able to string a coherent sentence together”) and being authentic as diametrically opposed qualities. I’m a both/and kind of guy.
  • When I’m given the opportunity to donate a book to a children’s group, I instinctively grab a single-volume copy of The Lord of the Rings and hope that it inspires some kid somewhere to think, to believe, to wonder, and maybe to be interested in the stuff that made Tolkien want to write the story in the first place.
  • To think, to believe, and to wonder are the things I learned to do best as a little kid and they’re what I’ve tried to figure out how to make a living at doing ever since.

That’s all I can think of for now. Yeah, it’s kinda SWPL-ish, isn’t it? Maybe that’s inescapable. I’d be curious for anybody to come up with their own list.

Finals Week, fall semester 2008

It is Friday of Finals Week; the campus is basically empty, it is grey outside and already hinting at getting dark. The next couple of weeks will be very quiet. While I generally like the winters here (as long as I’m not snapping the bones of my various extremities) I have found, particularly the last couple of winters, that I struggle somewhat with it being nearly dark out by the time I get home after work this time of year. It’s never bothered me before, so I’m not altogether sure what that’s about, but there we are.

My one final this time around was Modern Greek. Confidence, I suppose, is when you know you would have to bomb the exam completely to impact your grade at all, and I didn’t bomb it in the least. Next semester I will be bumping up to the 4th semester of the sequence, which means I have some fill-in work to do between now and then, but I am reasonably unconcerned about my ability to deal with it.

One of the problems I’ve been trying to solve this week has been that, upon realizing that my iTunes library was taking up 33 gigabytes of my 80 gigabyte hard drive, I decided to get a 1 terabyte external hard drive and hook it up to the wireless router that governs the connectivity in our house. Simple, right? Well, no. The router, one of AT&T’s custom jobs that you have to use if you have their DSL service, only has a Type B USB port on the back, and the output port on the MyBook drive is a Micro B. A USB hub didn’t solve the problem, because the only upstream port on the hub was, yep, a Micro B. A USB-to-Ethernet adapter didn’t solve the problem, either. Finally I pulled out the AirPort Extreme router I still have from my cable days, which has a Type A port on the back of it specifically for hard drives, and connected that to AT&T’s router via an Ethernet cable. It works now, more or less, but I don’t understand why this wasn’t easier. Now I’m migrating my iTunes library over, which will take another few days to sort out, I’m sure. A friend of mine in high school used to call such needlessly complicated arrangements “goat-ropes.” I’m still not sure what a “goat-rope” is, exactly, but I think this qualifies.

And, of course, Leopard’s Time Machine functionality still doesn’t work with an external hard drive connected via a wireless router, and I wasn’t about to spend $500 on a 1 TB Time Capsule when an AirPort Extreme router plus a 1 TB external hard drive cost less than $300 combined. So, whatever.

Under the category of miscellaneous observations — you know, Rick Warren certainly wouldn’t have been my choice if anybody had asked me to set up the invocation for the Presidential inauguration. (That probably would have been Metropolitan Jonah.) Still, I am bewildered by claims that his views are not “consistent [with] mainstream American values.” Now, his views are most certainly not consistent with what Ms. Kolbert’s values are, nor with what Ms. Kolbert perhaps hopes “mainstream American values” might someday be, but that does not make them inconsistent with what “mainstream American values” presently are.

We have a real problem in this country, on both sides of the aisle, with acknowledging principled, conscientious disagreement; particularly where certain social issues are involved, the same assertion is made on both sides — “We’re talking about people’s lives. You either agree with me or you’re objectively hating an entire subset of humanity” (whatever group might be impacted by the social issue in question). Somehow we have to get past this and not be constantly assuming the worst about the people with whom we disagree and their motives.

That bears repeating, I think.

I believe wholeheartedly that the level of public discourse in this country will not improve until we can stop assuming the worst about those who disagree with us and what might be motivating them.

“Baby-killer” and “bigot,” to use but two common examples, are labels that do nothing but shut down the conversation. They get used, not to further understanding, but to vilify. They identify as enemies and dehumanize those with whom there is ideological disagreement. They do nothing to identify common ground and attempt to find a way to co-exist.

If nothing else, President-elect Obama’s choice of Pastor Warren seems to acknowledge this problem and seek to find a way to navigate through it. That his choice of Warren has angered some on the Left, and Warren’s acceptance has angered some on the Right, indicates to me that it might in fact be an effective move on the part of both men.

Yesterday I was present for a discussion with somebody who very clearly believed himself to be better-informed than most and in possession of a privileged point of view, a puppet who was able to see the strings, and he made a lot of very sweeping generalizations about a great many things, clearly finding it incomprehensible that any educated, thinking person might disagree with him, thus making anybody who might disagree with him categorically uneducated and unthinking. This person might be broadly described as a Northeastern academic liberal; what was fascinating is that his manner and intellectual approach was virtually identical to that of an Alaskan neo-conservative who espoused almost perfectly antithetical views to me a few months ago. Both opiners dripped utter contempt for any who might see things differently; both were absolutely convinced that they understood reality. You know, real reality.

The truth may very well be that, eventually, the center cannot hold and the United States must splinter. Perhaps that will happen in my lifetime, or my grandchildren’s lifetime. It seems to me, however, that we have to resist such an eventuality. Sitting at the same table as those with whom we disagree is the reality of being the secular, pluralistic, supposedly egalitarian society that we like to pat ourselves on the back for being; we have to co-exist, and we have to get along, even if every settlement has not yet been negotiated and ratified. The result may be messy, the result may be something with which we’re not always happy, but that’s the nature of our system. Agreeing to disagree is the only way civil discourse can happen in the long run.

Now I get to spend the next couple of days researching how to brine a goose. Watch this space for details.

One election thought, and one only

Look, for a variety of reasons, I’m not voting tomorrow. This is not a political blog, so I don’t want to go into detail why, but I have one thought before this time tomorrow night, when it will be all over except for the suing —

I’ve never given the Jeremiah Wright flap any particular currency, and I still don’t. I don’t want to get derailed by that either, I just want to make this particular observation: what does it say about us that we can so easily accept the idea that somebody went to a particular church for years and years and years and didn’t pay any attention to the sermons?

Just a thought. Vote, pray, or both.

From The Onion, 17 January 2001

With a tip of the hat to Neil Gaiman, all I can say is: Ouch. Whatever one’s politics, it’s just not funny, is it?

Josef Pieper on the Palin/Biden debate

What, then, is flattery? Flattery here does not mean saying what the other likes to hear, telling him something nice, something to tickle his vanity. And what is thus said is not necessarily a lie, either. […] In what lies the distinction? What makes the difference? The decisive element is this: having an ulterior motive. I address the other not simply to please him or to tell him something that is true. Rather, what I say to him is designed to get something from him! This underlying design makes the message a flattery, even in the popular meaning of the word. The other, whom I try to influence with what he likes to hear, ceases to be my partner; he is no longer a fellow subject. Rather, he has become an object to be manipulated, possibly to be dominated, to be handled and controlled. Thus the situation is just about the opposite of what it appears to be. It appears, especially to the one so flattered, as if a special respect would be paid, while in fact this is precisely not the case. His dignity is ignored; I concentrate on his weakness and on those areas that may appeal to him — all in order to manipulate him, to use him for my purposes. And insofar as words are employed, they cease to communicate anything. Basically, what happens here is speech without a partner (since there is no true other); such speech, in contradiction to the nature of language, intends not to communicate but to manipulate. The word is perverted and debased to become a catalyst, a drug, as it were, and is as such administered. Instrument of power may still seem a somewhat strong term for this; still, it does not seem so farfetched any longer. […]

“The world wants to be deceived”, the saying goes… This is indeed true, yet at the same time too narrow. What the world really wants is flattery, and it does not matter how much of it is a lie; but the world at the same time also wants the right to disguise, so that the fact of being lied to can be easily ignored. As I enjoy being affirmed in my whims and praised for my foibles, I also expect credibility to make it easy for me to believe, in good conscience or at least without a bad conscience, that everything I hear, read, absorb, and watch is indeed true, important, worthwhile, and authentic!

Such, then, is the demand. To such a demand the supply has to respond if there is going to be a profitable business. […] [W]e are faced, in short, with the threat that communication as such decays, that public discourse becomes detached from the notions of truth and reality. […]

[T]his much remains true: wherever the main purpose of speech is flattery, there the word becomes corrupted, and necessarily so. And instead of genuine communication, there will exist something for which domination is too benign a term; more appropriately we should speak of tyranny, of despotism. On one side there will be a sham authority, unsupported by any intellectual superiority, and on the other a state of dependency, which is again too benign a term. Bondage would be more correct. Yes, indeed: there are on the one side a pseudoauthority, not legitimized by any form of superiority, and on the other a state of mental bondage.

Josef Pieper, Abuse of Language — Abuse of Power, pp.21-30

Talking about politics without talking about politics and other musings

A week ago Thursday, we arrived in Wasilla, Alaska where we were spending the long weekend with my mother and some other family. At dinner that evening, the politics of the presidential campaign came up, and my stepfather made a casual comment about having heard that governor Sarah Palin had been vetted at some point as a possible VP pick for McCain, but he hadn’t heard anything else about it. It then came out that just about everybody in my family with Alaska connections is absolutely nutso for Governor Palin; I told my mother she calls her “Sarah” with the same tone of voice my female friends who are Clinton supporters use when they say “Hillary”.

You can guess the rest. A week ago yesterday morning we woke up to the phone at Mom’s house ringing off the hook.

As I’ve said before, I don’t do politics here. I have political views to which I will occasionally allude, but I really am loath to get into the mudslinging. Still, sometimes there are interesting things one can observe from the trajectory of the mud, and as much as has flown over the last week since last Friday in Wasilla, I think there’s a lot of data through which a person might sift and draw conclusions.

Rather than do exactly that, however, I’d like to offer a possible explanation as to why there has been so much mud being slung this last week. Here are a couple of statements from opposite ends of the spectrum; one is cut and pasted from a comment left over at Crunchy Cons by one Douglas Cramer; the other is a condensed version of an hourlong conversation my wife and I had with a Wasilla resident (who, for a few reasons, I decline to name, at least here).

Mr. Cramer:

What does Palin have to say to a suburban-raised Northeastern man from a divorced family who married outside his race, has great sympathy for pacifists and environmentalists even though he does not count himself among them, has worked in the past with and has great respect for librarians and community organizers, values intellectual curiosity, and is a small business owner teaching his sons the value of collaboration and humility? What does Palin have to say to me?

Anonymous Wasillan, by contrast, told my wife and me about how for a lot of people, the real world doesn’t involve higher education, ideas, ideals, and abstractions; it deals with things that are measurable and concrete, and that for somebody like him/her, it makes no sense for the government to be paying billions of dollars for a higher education system that doesn’t, to his/her way of thinking, produce much that is either measurable or concrete. It may be a social investment, he/she said, but it’s also a luxury, one that for somebody who might be an auto mechanic or a pilot or an electrician or an oil worker or something like that, is increasingly not worth what society pays for it. “That’s the real world,” he/she said. My wife got very upset with this person; he/she apologized upon realizing this, but still said, “Somebody in Kentucky is going to care a lot more about where their next gallon of gas is coming from than whether or not they can learn German.” One can perhaps infer a parallel question to Mr. Cramer’s — what does Obama have to say to somebody like this?

Is it going too far to suggest that parts of the electorate live in vastly different, if not utterly irreconcilable, worlds from each other, and that this hardly lends itself to civil discourse? I’d go so far as to say that from the looks of the last week, it really can only result in talking past each other at best. At worst… well, if you’ve spent any time watching news coverage of the various figures involved in this year’s election, I think you will have started to get the picture. Started.

I hate the kind of pointless bickering and merciless character assassination that our political system brings out of virtually everybody on every side. Both parties, Republican and Democratic, are part of the problem. Both parties are insufferably arrogant and pander shamelessly to their base. Certain individuals within each camp are less arrogant than the majority, but as entities, both Rs and Ds are worthless to somebody like me. The two-party system does not produce the best candidates to lead our country; they produce wheelers and dealers who are able to tell the people writing the big checks what they want to hear — which, let’s be honest, is what American political campaigning is all about — and they are then are given the go-ahead to tell the electorate what they want to hear. Make no mistake, however — the people who paid for the campaign know what they bought, and they expect a return on the investment. (Oh, by the way — in the United States, this is referred to as “free speech.”)

I voted my youthful idealism, my belief in hope and vision, in 1996; the man I voted for then proceeded to lie to me on national television and desecrate the office. I voted my principled anger in 2000; the man I voted for then proceeded to squander our standing as an international power, lie to me on national television, and make a mockery of the dignity of the presidency. 2004 saw me taking a deep breath, realizing that voting my principled anger again would lead me to vote against other principles, and I refrained from pulling a lever for anybody.

2008 sees me likely to make the same choice. I respect Obama’s idealism and admire his natural statesmanship, dignity, and vision, but I cannot embrace his platform on certain points. I respect and am grateful for McCain’s service to his country, I fully accept his sincerity in wishing to continue to serve his country, but I cannot embrace his platform on certain points. I do not question either man’s character, intelligence, or judgment, nor do I question the character, intelligence, or judgment of those who would support either candidate. There are good, legitimate, sincere reasons why people might vote for either McCain or Obama; I just can’t fully accept the case for either one.

There no good, legitimate, or sincere reasons, however, for the lack of humanity and class displayed towards the opposing side by each camp. I am absolutely sickened at how the dogs have been mercilessly unleashed on Obama by the right; as nauseous as that makes me, I am just as revolted at the treatment of Palin in the last week. People are relentlessly and obsessively hunting down reasons to despise and mock those put forth by their political opponents; this is evidently called “vetting.”

Both Obama and Palin represent something absolutely unacceptable, and worse yet, alien to the opposing side; because of this, as nasty as it has been up to this point, the next sixty days are going to make what’s happened thus far look like a contemplative prayer retreat.

How do I get behind such a process in good conscience? It is not a question of evaluating issues; it is a question of buying into hysteria.

Somebody asked me within the last day or two who I would hand-pick for the presidency. This is an interesting question, and I had to honestly answer, “I don’t know. Let me think about that and get back to you.” This begs the question — does my ideal candidate even exist? I’m not going to be concerned right now with whether or not he/she would even run — first order of business is to find out if somebody who even comes close walks to the earth at the moment.

Anybody have any ideas? To throw out a haphazard, in-no-particular order, list of high-level, broad qualifications I would look for, how about —

  • Christian (I’m absolutely fine with being honest about this; I’m even cool with being so honest as to say that an Orthodox Christian would be worth extra points).
  • Executive experience (governor? mayor? private sector? I dunno. Show me the rest of what they’ve got).
  • Pro-life across the board (it should be clear what I mean by this), and in terms of its more common, politically expedient meaning, I’d rather hear about somebody volunteering at a crisis pregnancy center than protesting at an abortion clinic.
  • Economically savvy (but not reflexively, automatically pro-business — big business deserves just as much suspicion as big government, as a wise man once said), and not afraid to sell the idea that investing in infrastructure is a good thing.
  • Sympathetic and fair-minded with regard to environmental issues. This does not mean mindlessly buying whole-hog what self-styled environmentalists have to sell, but it does mean taking issues such as sustainability seriously, being wary of sprawl and overdevelopment, and in general thinking long-term with respect to pros and cons. To put it one way, if we’re going to build something, can we build something we actually want our great-grandchildren to be using, rather than something we assume they’re going to tear down and replace with a parking lot? Is it reasonable to expect that doing X will allow the water in the pond next to it to be drinkable by this time next century?
  • Socially conservative — but what I mean by this is emphatically not present-day neo-conservatism. I mean, rather, the idea that there is something in our culture worth conserving other than money and power, and that because of this, slow changes are going to be more effective and beneficial to society over the long-term.
  • Intelligent with respect to international issues and foreign policy, and a sharp understanding of how the United States functions on the world stage. This can include, but does not exclusively correspond to, strength with respect to national defense. It can also mean somebody who is wise as a serpent and yet innocent as a dove when it comes to diplomacy. Perhaps somebody with experience in foreign service?
  • An understanding of the long view of history with a vision for the future. (Yes, that’s somewhat fuzzy and smacking of windbaggery, but I think there’s legitimacy to it nonetheless. Somebody who is arrogant enough to believe the lessons of the past don’t apply has a biiiiiiiiig check mark against them in my book.)
  • Character. As in, having it, not being one.
  • The smarts to be able to craft a real energy policy beyond “Drill more.” An economy based almost entirely on the premise of cheap oil will burn itself out in my lifetime, more than likely.
  • The oratory skill to be a real statesman. Lead, for heavens’ sake. Inspire me and challenge me, and more importantly, this country, to be better than what we presently are. Don’t just figure out how to tell us what will probably keep us comfortable for the next few days.
  • Humility and strength enough to be able to admit it when a mistake is made.
  • A wide enough view of the country to understand that rushes to judgment will be inherently divisive, and that as such, deliberation is a good thing, not a weakness.

Let’s start there. Any suggestions? Am I insane to think this person could exist in the flesh? How would I even go about researching the possibility?

On being late to parties

It often happens to me that I come to a particular conclusion on my own in isolation, only to find out much later that not only are there educated people who are thinking the same way, but there have been educated people thinking about it for years and have a formal way of talking about it.

When I was a child of eight or nine, I formulated a set of principles regarding how to describe the sounds we use to form words; I tried explaining them to my parents, who didn’t understand anything I was saying, patted me on my head and treated it similarly to when, at age five, I told them I was going to build a time machine. (Long story. Short version: I built it, but it didn’t work.) When I was seventeen, in my freshman Italian Diction for Singers course, I learned the International Phonetic Alphabet and was floored to realize this was exactly what I was trying to explain to Mom and Dad ten years earlier when they were giving each other looks saying, “Are you sure this is our kid?”

When I was thirteen, I discovered this awesome movie on VHS that neither my parents nor any of my friends had ever seen. It was called Blade Runner. It was 1990.

When I was sixteen, realizing I was extremely hard on my footwear, I shopped around for a good, durable shoe that could last me a couple of years. After a bit of research, I bought a pair of Dr. Martens, only to discover that the alterna-kids had been wearing them for a couple of years by that point.

Then there are parties to which I’ve been late as an adult.

All of this is to say — because I’ve evidently been far more sheltered than I realize, it’s always a shock to me to find out that there are smart, credentialed people out there who have had “my ideas” — well before I was born, in some cases. It’s a good shock, more often than not; it tells me I’m not as crazy as I sometimes think I am.

So, with that as background — my whole life, I’ve felt quite conflicted in terms of where I fall on the political spectrum. In broad strokes, we may say that I’ve never felt conservative enough for the Republicans or liberal enough for the Democrats, or at least never on the right issues, for either platform to particularly want me. I’ve often self-identified as a “moderate,” which I’ve sometimes joked as meaning “Everybody wants my vote but nobody wants to admit they agree with me.”

Let me give an example to demonstrate how this is problematic. I’ve come to the conclusion over the years that I’m pro-life, but I’ve further concluded that in order to be completely consistent and intellectually honest, “pro-life” can’t just mean “anti-abortion.” It has to mean pro-life. All life. Therefore, if abortion isn’t justifiable, neither is capital punishment, nor war. However, insofar as “pro-life” means “anti-abortion,” I vehemently disagree with people who blow up abortion clinics and attempt to kill doctors who work at Planned Parenthood. I would rather see about volunteering at a Crisis Pregnancy Center (which is itself problematic, partially because I’m a guy and partially because many of those places are set up around an Evangelical Protestant paradigm and want you to sign a “Statement of Faith” which includes things with which Orthodox and Catholics disagree) or supporting peaceful, positive events like the Walk for Life or some such.

Anyway, the point is, already I’ve taken a stance that pretty much rules out any ability to identify with Democrats, and also eliminates the Republicans as political allies, by and large.

This has had no small impact on how I’ve practiced my faith; there was a point, particularly in my late teens, when I was hesitant to identify myself as a Christian, because the biggest and loudest examples I saw of Christianity were abhorrent to me. Particularly given how I grew up, I knew of only three ways: Evangelical Christianity, which certainly had the most airtime and seemed to yell the loudest, but which also seemed to put forth the most effort in pointing the Almighty Finger; Roman Catholicism and anything which looked, sounded, or smelled like it, which I had been carefully taught was not Christianity and was potentially the most dangerous force on earth; and finally, the blatant non-Christian cults, which, I had been taught, included Mormonism, Jehovah’s Witness, and Unitarian Universalism. My Evangelical friends didn’t understand my discomfort with identifying Christianity with the Republican party OR with the handwaving and shouting that went on at the church at which I (sort of) grew up; my liberal, “spiritual but not religious” friends didn’t understand why I couldn’t see that Christianity was fundamentally stupid and evil.

Over the years, these issues have sort of shaken themselves out. When I first discovered Russell Kirk and his six tenets of conservatism, I thought to myself, “If that’s what a conservative thinks, then I guess I’m a conservative.” Kirk’s classical conservatism was radically different from the angry, anti-intellectual neo-conservatism to which I had been primarily exposed growing up — a philosophy that steadfastly refused to define itself any further than, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Kirk, Orthodox Christianity, Crunchy Cons, G. K. Chesterton — these have all to some extent provided answers and explanations, if not easy resolutions, to many of the tensions I perceived growing up. If they haven’t provided answers, they’ve at least given a window through which I can see the other people who are thinking the same way I am — however few there may be.

Having developed at least a loose framework for the way I’m learning to see things, I have two words with which I want to leave off for now.

Those two words are: Christian communitarianism.

So. Discuss. I think I have a bit of reading to do, on the other side of which it might turn out that it’s nothing. Or, it may very well be another party to which I’ve simply come late, in which case let me know, and then give me a few minutes so I can run out and bring back some beer — or at least read some Wendell Berry.


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