The Vocabulary of Myth, Part XV

Harley Price

Anaximander’s Law of Compensation…

 And the Greek Medical Theory of the Humours…

 Compensation in the Health of the Body and the Succession of the Seasons…

Anaximander’s Natural Justice as a Projection of Human Morality…

Cosmic Injustice and Hybris… 

     But the world order, unlike to apeiron, is transitory and passes away, and how and why this happens is addressed by Anaximander in the single sentence from his book that has come down to us, as preserved by Simplicius:  a sentence that is certainly of profound significance for later Greek thought:

“Into those things from which existing things have their coming into being, their passing away, too, takes place, according to what must be; for they make reparation to one another for their injustice according to the ordinance of time”, as he puts it in somewhat poetical language.

It isn’t immediately obvious what “those things” are from which existing things arise.  The “Infinite Thing” as such can hardly be meant; the plural makes that plain enough.  On the other hand, Anaximander has already said that existing things arise not from the Infinite as such, but from those elements that are contained in it and separated out from it in the formation of the world.

These are the opposites, “the hot, the cold, the moist, the dry, and rest”.  It is the opposites, then, that “make reparation to one another for their injustice”; and the conception is one which is so ubiquitous in Greek thought as to be fundamental.

 

We encounter it, for instance, in Alcmaeon of Croton, who laid the foundations of Greek medical theory early in the 5th century B.C.:

Alcmaeon says [as recorded by Aetius, the 2nd century doxographer] that the essence of health lies in the “equality” of the powers—moist, dry, cold, hot, bitter, sweet, and the rest—whereas the cause of sickness is the “supremacy of one” among these.  For the rule of any one of them is a cause of destruction…while health is the proportionate mixture of the qualities.

Hippocrates in turn compares this balance or harmony of the opposites, which preserves the health of the body, to the orderly succession of the opposites in the seasonal year:

All of them [the opposites] are present in the body, but as the seasons revolve they become now greater now less, in turn…The year too has a share of all things—the hot, the cold, the dry, and the wet—for no one of the things which exist in the world-order would last for any length of time were it not for the balance preserved amongst them.

The opposites of which the body is composed—in later medical theory, the so-called four humours, which correspond to the four elements—are at enmity with each other, each attempting to drive out the other and establish sole supremacy.  The health of the body, on the other hand, consists in the maintenance of a balance of one opposite by the other.  It can be preserved, therefore, only if for every transgression, compensation or reparation is rendered, so that the balance is restored.

The same dynamic operates in the succession of the seasons.  In each season, one of each pair of opposites dominates:  spring is warm and moist; summer, warm and dry; autumn, cold and wet; winter, cold and dry.  Because the succession of the seasons is an orderly one, however, each of the opposites eventually makes reparation for the wrong it has done “according to the ordinance of time”.

 

Clearly, Anaximander’s “law of compensation”, his “poetic” description of nature in terms of “injustice and reparation”, is a projection of human morality on a supposedly inanimate and de-divinized world.  But then, the primordial data of religion inevitably survive and continue to influence the doctrines of the Greek philosophers, in spite of the assumption that they have moved beyond “irrational” mythological or theological categories of thought and supernatural explanations of things.  If Anaximander’s followers called his to apeiron “divine”, as Aristotle affirms, it was because the Greeks had from time immemorial ascribed to the Divine the same qualities of boundlessness, agelessness, eternity, and indestructibility.  In calling it by the impersonal term to apeiron, Anaximander has merely given the Godhead a new philosophical name.  Like the Godhead, the Infinite, he says, is the source and governor of the cosmos, which it “encompasses”, and whose operations it “steers” and regulates in justice and harmony.

Anaximander’s law of compensation is similarly rooted in a primitive ethos that survives from the psychological infancy of the species.  Even today, when we have a mild autumn, we expect instinctively that it will have to be paid for by a severe winter; we imagine, that is, that just as happiness is paid for by misfortune, so fine weather will be paid for by bad.

In this way, the laws of nature, to the mythic imagination, inevitably reflect those that operate in human affairs.  And Anaximander’s law of natural compensation seems to be just such a projection upon the inanimate elements of the cosmos of those moral laws that prevents human action from transgressing its proper bounds.

When a man exalts himself above his fellows, he is, like Herodotus’ Croesus, quickly brought low.  For the inquiring mind of the Greeks, there must, of course, be a reason for these inevitable reversals of fortune.  One commonly posited explanation was the jealousy of the gods.  Thus, in Herodotus once again, on the eve of his master’s ill-fated invasion of Greece, Xerxes’ adviser admonishes him:

You see, my lord, how god strikes with his thunderbolts those living creatures who are exalted above their fellows, and does not suffer them to vaunt themselves.  The small ones do not provoke his anger; it is always the highest buildings and the tallest trees on which his bolts fall.  For god delights in putting down all those who are exalted.

 

We can see how the idea of the jealousy of the gods is articulated with Anaximander’s theory according to which the aggrandizement of one of the opposites at the expense of the others demands reparation.  The gods alone enjoy perfect and indestructible power, ease, and happiness, and when a mortal aspires to such bliss, he is usurping divine prerogatives.  He is guilty, in Greek terms, of the sin of hybris:  of failing to “think only mortal thoughts”; of aspiring to rise above his proper station in the cosmic hierarchy.  And for this injustice he must inevitably be cast down, if the order and harmony of both human society and the cosmos itself are to be restored.

The Vocabulary of Myth, Part XIV

Harley Price

The Pre-Socratics…

Their Inspiration by Pre-Rational, Mythical Categories of Thought…

 Physis as a God-Image…

 The One and the Many…

Anaximander…

The Contraries and the Elements…

  Their Separation from To Apeiron…

     After Hesiod (c. 700), the principal preoccupation of the next several generations of Greek mythographers continued to be cosmogony and cosmology.  I refer, of course, to the Pre-Socratics (6th to 5th centuries B.C.), as they are called by the historians of Greek thought, who were the earliest “philosophers” in the Western tradition.

We must be careful, however, not to project our own modern definition of that hallowed term upon these seminal Greek thinkers.  For us, the word “philosopher” connotes someone who inquires dispassionately into the laws of the universe, obedient only to the dictates of reason and empirical truth, unharnessed from the ancestral burden of theological dogma or mythic fantasy.  Needless, to say, no such contemporary ideals troubled the Pre-Socratics (or any other pre-modern philosophers for that matter). Rather, the same pre-rational, mythological idioms and categories of thought as they had inherited from the poets and theologians of earlier generations inevitably recurred as the organizing archetypes of their investigations.

The earliest of the Pre-Socratics were called “physicists” by Aristotle, inviting us to identify them with modern scientists of the same name, and so adding to the confusion.  But Aristotle’s designation merely refers to the fact that they were dedicated to the discovery of the one primary substance or substrate—the Greek word is physis—out of which the observable multiplicity of the cosmos supposedly first arose and continues to inhere.

The conventional English translation of physis is “nature”, but for the Pre-Socratics the word meant something rather less abstract and (paradoxically) more exalted.  In its primary signification, the physis of the Pre-Socratics has about it the connotation of a living and growing thing; it is what Francis Cornford called a “Soul-Substance”:  the Soul Substance that animates the entire world.  That is to say that physis was little more than a non-theological or impersonal substitute for the word God, and thus hardly the descriptor of the de-deified and dis-inspirited machine that is the object of study for modern science.  The original and ongoing philosophical problem for the Pre-Socratics was that of the “One and the Many”, as it was called:  how the One Physis invisibly and immutably suffused—ensouled is really the right word here, since physis is merely another God-image–the multiplicity of individual mutable things, whence all existence is secretly and essentially unitary and unchanging; and how the Many–looking at the universal dynamic from the other side–expressed the hidden Unity out of which the One originally emanated or unfolded into diversity.  Unity and multiplicity are, as one would expect from a stage of consciousness as yet untroubled by the paradoxes of myth, both opposite and complementary modes or aspects of reality.

But again, we can hardly exhaust the meaning and implication of this archetype here, which informs any number of fundamental structures and recurrent themes in philosophy and religion, from polytheism itself, in which the many gods express the essential unity of the Supreme God (To Theion [The Divine], as the Greeks called it); to the mystery of the Trinity (One God in Three Persons), to the ubiquitous doctrine of transmigration of souls, in which the one soul undergoes a series of incarnations, and so on.

 

Aristotle says that the founder of Greek philosophy was Thales, (born c. 636 B.C.), a citizen of Miletus, one of the Ionian Greek city states on the Asia Minor coast.  Thales, he reports, asserted that the unitary physis or primary stuff of the cosmos was water, which was then transmuted into the solids, liquids, and gases (that is, everything that exists in the visible world) by a process of evaporation, condensation, freezing, melting, and so on.  But this is the sum of what we know of Thales and his teachings, a legacy so meager, or in some cases, so obviously the stuff of legend, that the title of Greece’s first philosopher probably belongs, more properly, to Thales’ younger Milesian contemporary Anaximander.

Anaximander was born c. 612 B.C., and though, unlike Thales, he committed his thoughts to writing in a book, nothing of it, unfortunately, has survived.  From the 6th century A.D. doxographer Simplicius, we learn that Anaximander asserted that the source of all existing things is what he called to apeiron, i.e., the “boundless” or “infinite” or “limitless” thing, which is neither water nor any of the other elements, but something prior to and encompassing them all, and out of which the entire world-order came into being and into which it will return.

This “boundless” or “infinite” or “limitless” thing is, moreover, “eternal”or “ageless”.  It has “no beginning”, as Aristotle explains, “for if there were a beginning it would be limited”; and by the same token, it has no end:  it is “deathless and imperishable”.  Possessing these qualities, to apeiron was called “divine” by Anaximander’s disciples.

We infer, then, that by contrast to “the limitless”, the life of the world-order is limited at both ends:  it comes into existence and passes away.  But that out of which it arises and into which it passes away is without limit:  “ageless” and “imperishable”.  We may further infer from these adjectives that when Anaximander speaks of the source of existing things as “limitless”, he is thinking pre-eminently in temporal rather than spatial terms.

 

How, then, does the world-order come into being?  As reported by Aristotle, “The opposites, which are present in to apeiron, are separated out from it, Anaximander says”.  And from Simplicius we learn that “The opposites are the hot, the cold, the dry, the moist, and the rest”.

It is apparent, then, that Anaximander’s to apeiron corresponds in some way to that original state which Hesiod alludes to in the Theogony, in which Father Sky and Mother Earth were first bound up together in an indistinct unity, before they were separated by Chaos, and reunited to engender the world.  For Anaximander, the opposites are however no longer personified—no longer represented in the language of mythological poetry–, but are conceived as the inanimate and impersonal qualities of the hot and cold, wet and dry.

But since the Greeks as yet made no distinction between a thing and the qualities of a thing, Anaximander’s opposites are effectively indistinguishable from what later came to called the “elements”, i.e., earth, water, air, and fire, each of which was composed of a pair of the four contraries:  earth, cold and dry; water, cold and wet; air, hot and wet; fire, hot and dry.

Aristotle speaks of the contraries as “separated” out from the infinite, and in a sense this is true, but what is critical for the formation of the world-order is the separation of the elements from one another.  Earth, water, air, and fire emerge from a state of homogenous unity in to apeiron as distinct entities, much as in the Theogony the male and female contraries, Sky and Earth, emerge as distinct entities with the opening up of a “gap” (chaos) between them.

The world comes into being, then, when the elements are separated out of this primordial amorphous mass, and from each other, taking their proper place.  As Aristotle explains, Anaximander attributed this separating out to a mechanical process similar to that of a vortex or centrifuge within liquids, in which “like goes to like”, with the heaviest and densest components falling to the center of the vortex, while the lightest and rarest are flung to the outside.

Not coincidentally, this was how the elements were arranged in the existing world-order as the ancient Greeks conceived it:  that is, earth lay at the centre, water enveloping earth in a concentric sphere, air outside water, and outermost of all, the fiery circuit of the heavens.

Patronage, the Arts, and Cut-Throat Begging

Harley Price

Oh to have a munificent patron like Cosimo or Lorenzo de’ Medici in Florence, or Federico da Montfeltro in Urbino, who amassed great libraries for the use of such luminaries as Marsilio Ficino, Pico della Mirandola, Cristoforo Landino, and Pietro Bembo, while supporting them in the vita contemplativa, and underwriting the publication of their books. Take me back, take me back.

The question of patronage of another kind was raised at the end of a class on Ficino’s Commentary on Plato’s Symposium, when one of my students expressed her indignation at the steady reduction in Canada of government subsidies for “the arts”. I was tempted to thank her—though I was restrained by politeness—for relaying the good news. I exerted myself instead to relate her comment back to the general subject (the Renaissance) of the course. How was patronage of the arts in the Renaissance similar to, but different from, that of today’s democratic welfare state? Was the former not more private than public? And even if the Medici, Viscontis, Gonzagas, Sforzas, and Scaligers were mighty princes of their realms, didn’t their political power rather pale by comparison to that of the leaders of modern liberal democracies, whose “liberality” is a function of the coercive authority of their tax collectors.   (Not even France’s Sun King could dream of such sweeping jurisdiction as that possessed by modern elected governments at the command of armies of revenue agents empowered to confiscate half of every citizen’s wealth.)

The princely virtue of liberality is discussed in Catiglione’s Il Cortegiano, when the interlocutor Gasparo Pallavicino adduces the grand public works programs of Alexander the Great and Pope Julius II as noble examples. But Ottaviano Fregoso (Castiglione’s mouthpiece) demurs, arguing that the primary excellence and responsibility of the prince is to rule over a free people with justice and wisdom. The ideal prince, he says, should observe “a reasonable inequality in being generous, in rewarding, in distributing [largesse] according to the differences in merits”. Too often, princes “not only are not secret about it, but summon witnesses and almost make a public proclamation of their generosities”, and “there are many who rob in order to give away, and thus are generous with the property of others”. Evidently, Renaissance humanism had not yet evolved to the point of regarding meritless egalitarianism, or being conspicuously “magnificent” with other people’s money, as virtues.

 

My student represents one of the many voices in a deafening chorus of complaints that is the music of liberalism. Every election cycle, teachers complain of larger class sizes and the cut-backs in education that have purportedly caused them; nurses and health-care workers complain that governments spend less and less on hospitals and so endanger the health of citizens; police unions accuse governments of risking public safety by “slashing” police budgets; transit workers moralize that governments are spending too little on public transit and thereby causing gridlock; public construction unions demand more money to “invest” in our crumbling infrastructure; poverty advocates indict governments of heartlessness in reducing their budgets for public housing, welfare, and the ever-proliferating multitude of social programs; the green energy lobby prophesies the death of planet earth because governments are reducing their subsidies to wind and solar power; hydro workers predict blackouts for the same reason; daycare workers depict an impending apocalypse of infants wandering the streets in diapers because budgets for public daycare have been “gutted”.

Of course, when you look at the numbers, none of this apocalyptic threnody is based in fact. Government budgets for these constituencies (and a burgeoning panoply of others) have increased consistently and ineluctably over the course of every decade since the New Deal.

 

Politics can now be defined as organized begging. In the democracies of the West, there is at least one, and usually more than one, political party whose entire mandate is to complain about soi-disant “shrinking budgets”. (In countries like Greece, Portugal, and Italy, these currently outnumber the individual citizens who are net producers of wealth.) Political parties now resemble industry consortiums, like the Association of Mattress Manufacturers of America, or the International Order of Pork Producers, except that they represent the competing groups of State supplicants.

In the case of the arts, liberals dare not even make a pretense of the vaunted principle of “fairness” as they define it (i.e., redistributing wealth from the rich to the poor). Peruse the typical audiences of State-supported symphonies, operas, theatres, museums, and so on, and you see overwhelmingly affluent white faces, whose tickets have been subsidized by the taxes paid by the middle class, not to mention the working and immigrant poor, who rarely choose, don’t have time for, or can’t afford, the luxury of “art”.

It ought at least momentarily to embarrass the enthusiasts of the munificent State that every interest group that has become dependent upon it clamours to be first and stay longest at the public trough, indicting itself of unreconstructed greed, which it seeks to satisfy in cut-throat, dog-eat-dog (aka “capitalistic”) competition with every other. Ultimately, our universal parasitism becomes a self-cannibalizing exercise, with everyone battening at the expense of everyone else.

Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell: A Dantesque Journey through Northern Italy, Part 5

Harley Price

Airport Insecurity…

“Music” and the “i” Generation…

It took a full half-hour for us to clear passport control in Brussels (about the time it takes illegals to slip across Western borders never to be heard from again). That left forty-five minutes for another one-kilometer dash across the terminal to the security checkpoint followed by a final push to the gate. What they don’t tell you when you purchase those cut-rate connecting flights to Europe is that for a reduced fare you get to enjoy being stripped and molested twice. One oughtn’t to complain about the security regime at airports, knowing that the alternative is being blown out of the air by a terrorist bomb (even if airline passengers face a greater risk of being blown out of the air by the Russian military). And then the fact that a terrorist can secrete (pun unintended) a bomb in his underwear merely demonstrates how futile our vigilance is against anyone determined and masochistic enough to commit suicide by so exquisitely painful a method. (One supposes that Muslims believe in the regeneration of the body in the afterworld, else all those comely virgins would be a waste on the underwear bomber.)

Besides the sheer annoyance of airport security, one should never underestimate the challenge of divesting oneself into those little plastic bins when, after seven hours in the air over the Atlantic, one is sleepless and in orthopedic distress. Extricating one’s shoulders from camera, passport, and computer bags (without getting their straps twisted together); removing coat, sports jacket, belt, and shoes; emptying pockets of bills, change, credit cards, keys, and lighter (oops!); liberating the laptop from its case; and doing it all while a hundred passengers are watching and waiting impatiently in the line behind, takes a degree of coordination and composure that would have taxed Houdini in his prime. Doing it all in reverse on the other side of the metal detector, with the same travelers glaring at you again as you try not to leave anything behind and fumble to get your clothes back on, is likewise no mean test. Over the years of traveling, Mrs. P. and I have left enough items of clothing (hats, scarves, gloves, ties) in the security bins to start a small haberdashery shop. For reasons of soi-disant security (compounded by senility), the guards at Heathrow already have a lifetime supply of my Zippos.

 

One final sprint brought us from security to our departure gate, where we arrived five minutes before take-off, and as the last passengers to board, were subjected to the scowls of another angry mob.

The connecting flight from Brussels to Milan was tolerable enough, save for a passenger across the aisle whose earphones overflowed with an incessant, high-pitched ch-chka-ch-chka-ch-chka. Polluting the atmosphere with the “music” from one’s earphones or car radio is now a form of self-assertion, scarcely more refined than the ritual in which animals lay claim to new territory by urinating around its perimeter. (But then animals don’t urinate into your ears.) In the age of My Computer, My Pictures, and My Music, my music is your music, whether you like it or not. And so one’s ears are inundated by these aural effluents everywhere in our technological age, when the ubiquity of i-Pods, i-Pads, i-Phones—the “i” being the subjective form of the possessive “my”–, and other mobile disturbers of the peace bespeaks our culture’s primordial fear of being alone with its thoughts (if it has any thoughts), and its consequently hopeless addiction to auditory and visual stimulation. If Islamists really wanted to terrorize the population of the West, their most effective tactic would be to disrupt the supply of these adult pacifiers.

Music that is offensive to captive listeners—and how could anything downloadable from i-Tunes not be offensive?–is a form of torture. It was most recently recognized as such in Guantanemo Bay, when President Obama ended it and other cruel interrogation practices on the high moral principle that anything that was instituted by the Bush Administration must be ipso facto wrong. So, Mr. President. You believe in regulation, don’t you? How about it?

Gay Wedding Cakes and the Ayatollahs of Diversity

Harley Price

While Christians are being slaughtered throughout the Middle East; while their churches are being burned; yea, while women and homosexuals are being stoned to death, we now learn that what really arouses the ire of Western liberals is that gay couples in America have to trudge yards, sometimes blocks, to purchase their wedding cakes.

Since The Wizard of Oz is one of the favourite films of homosexual audiences, allow me to slightly amend Dorothy’s famous line: “I don’t think we’re in Indiana anymore.” No, Indiana, Kansas, and the entire Western world have apparently been swept up by a politically correct whirlwind into a-–let’s hope the sensitivity police aren’t reading this–fairyland Oz, in which the wicked witch of Christianity is dead, and somewhere over the rainbow flag we will all arrive at a paradise of sexual diversity, equity, and peace.

     Item. Indianapolis, Indiana. 2013. A Baptist couple was forced to close the doors of their bakery after they declined, in obedience to their Christian religious faith, to provide a cake for a gay wedding. (Rather than trying any of the dozens of other proximate establishments that would have been only too happy to comply with his request–and thereby proclaim their sexual open-mindedness to the liberal beau monde–, the “groom” went straight to the media instead.) Item. Albuquerque, New Mexico. 2006-2013; appeal pending. A small photography studio owned by a Christian couple declined a request to photograph a same-sex wedding ceremony, referring the homosexual petitioners to other photographers in the area. The gay “bride” and “groom” immediately complained to the New Mexico Human Rights Commission, which convicted the photographers of discrimination on the grounds of “sexual orientation” (even though their portfolio included portraits of a number of homosexual individuals). The New Mexico HRC levied a fine of thousands of dollars. Item. Washington State, appeal pending. When a female florist declined a request to arrange flowers for a same-sex wedding because it violated her Christian belief that marriage is between one man and one woman, the gay couple filed a complaint, which led to a suit against the florist by the State Attorney-General, a court order, and thousands of dollars in fines. The gay couple had been longstanding customers of the flower shop. Item. Denver, Colorado. 2012-2013. Another Christian bakery, another gay wedding, another demurral on the grounds of religious conscience, another complaint, another conviction and fine. Item. Oregon. 2013. Ibid (even though Oregon law defines marriage as between a man and a woman). In addition to substantial fines, the Christian couple was subjected to media protests, boycotts, violent demonstrations, and death threats, forcing them to close their bakeshop in September of 2013. Item. Indiana. 2015. In part to forestall the above, the Indiana legislature tabled their defense of religious liberty act, whereupon the NCAA, the NBA, Walmart, and Apple threatened to boycott the State. Leaving aside the fact that multinational corporations like Apple have no moral qualms about doing business with such human rights utopias as China, not to mention gay-friendly Saudi Arabia, in other circumstances liberals might be heard to remonstrate solemnly about “caving in to big business”. Unsurprisingly, the pusillanimous Governor of Indiana caved in to Big Gay, leaving one to wonder whether “gay bashing” oughtn’t now to be understood as gays bashing Christians. (I for one am re-thinking my opposition to gay-straight alliances in schools, as a prophylactic against bullying.)

It seems like really bad luck that the betrothed of the gay community keep stumbling into evangelical Christian establishments. If I were a typically paranoid right-wing, racist, sexist homophobe, I might well suspect that what we are dealing with here is an organized campaign deliberately targeting Christians. Somehow gay brides and grooms never wander into shops that turn out to be owned by Muslims. But then Muslims are rather less complacent about their religious freedoms than Christians. And it’s multicultural bad form to haul Muslims up before Western human rights tribunals, where in any case, gay activists can never be sure that, in the inevitable clash of progressive sensitivities, the liberal establishment will come down on their side.

 

A thought experiment (sounding too much like a bad joke): A fundamentalist Christian pastor walks in to a bakery owned by a homosexual activist. “We’re holding a prayer vigil at our local church”, he says to the proprietor. “I’ll be preaching against sin. We’d like a cake that reads–in rainbow-coloured icing, if you don’t mind–‘GOD ABOMINATES BUGGERY; SODOMITES ARE GOING TO HELL’. When can you have it ready, and how much will it cost?”

How do you imagine the gay baker might respond? “Well, sir, your request violates the deepest stratum of my moral conscience; but thank you for choosing Puff Pastries R Us. That’ll be $21.95 with tax. Your cake will be ready in the morning.”

Not a chance. He’d indignantly refuse. He’d be mortally offended by this insult to his most deeply held beliefs. And rather than being prosecuted for discriminating against his customer on the grounds of religion, he’d be universally celebrated for standing up for the “rights” of his fellow homosexuals.  (Meanwhile the Christian pastor’s sketch of the cake would be impounded as evidence in his trial for hate speech.)

Now surely everyone should recognize that it is unreasonable to demand that a gay shopkeeper lend his labour to a Christian cause that is abhorrent to him. Why, then, should a Christian business owner’s services be conscripted by the State into the celebration of a gay marriage that is a profound affront to both his moral and religious conscience?

 

In the Gay American Wedding Cake Affair, the sanctimonious hypocrisy of liberals, normally epidemic, has become self-satirizing. The way, for one, in which the Axis of Progress has turned the words “tolerance” and “diversity” on their heads must make the superannuated propagandists of the former Soviet Ministry of Truth green with envy. In ordinary language, toleration denotes an acceptance of differing and often conflicting beliefs and world-views; it means, amongst other things, the toleration of moral criticism, social disapprobation, and polite demurral. But for homosexual militants, tolerance has come to mean State-coerced approval of gay desiderata, along with State-enforced intolerance of traditional Christian beliefs and norms. One might say that gays want to eat their cake of diversity (to masticate it into a happy homogenous mush of ideological conformity) and have it too.

I’m loath to invoke another cliché, but for inclusionist gays, tolerance is an exclusively one-way street. An accommodating heterosexual majority has made same-sex marriage legal, and enshrined LGBT propaganda in the classroom from kindergarten to graduate school. All universities now have departments of Queer Studies; and with Kathleen Wynne’s sex-education curriculum about to begin next September for first-graders, the registrars of those departments can look forward to a bumper enrollment in another twelve years or so. Already in universities across North America, posted above doorways, seating areas, and even the cubicles in male washrooms—which must surely puzzle the officers of the law–, are precious little signs declaring each zone a “gay and lesbian positive space”. Of course, the apparatchiks of the Ministry of Cultural Diversity and Good Vibes who come up with these schemes never stop to consider that gay and lesbian positive spaces are negative spaces for traditional Christians, Jews, or Muslims: direct rebukes to their religious beliefs and moral sensibilities. (Liberalism is all about not offending people; unless, that is, they are conservatives). But having so conceded the dominant culture to homosexual activists, must Christians now also bake their nuptial cakes, decorate their matrimonial chambers, and design their bridal gowns?  In the spirit of tolerance and diversity, can’t gays leave Christians alone to run their businesses and live their lives as their consciences dictate?

 

In the West, the crusade for homosexual equality and “rights” is merely the latest front in a secular liberal jihad against Christianity that has been underway for half a century now. The ayatollahs of liberal enlightenment cannot abide the fact that infidel Christians continue to blaspheme against the alternative gay lifestyle. They tolerate no reciprocal right to the prosecution of a non-alternative lifestyle, not even the right to decline to participate in the sanctification of practices that Christians, along with the millions of other adherents of the world’s three major religions, have regarded as sinful for millennia. It seems quaint to recall that freedom of religion was the galvanizing aspiration and seminal project of the founders of Western democracy. Today, the Established Irreligion of liberal democracy has effectively restricted the exercise of non-conformist religions to inside the narthex. Christians are free to attend services in the morning, but must forget everything they have heard and done there once they exit the church doors for the workplace or the public square. As Mark Steyn has quipped, gays and liberals don’t mind people being Christians, as long they keep their Christianity in the closet. Atheists and other critics of religion have always accused its adherents of hypocrisy; but for the first time in history, it is considered a virtue (indeed, an obligation) not to practice what you preach.

Meanwhile, gays are also the most recent of the fully-accredited victim groups in our society to be granted immunity from criticism. The mildest dissent from the gay agenda—a politician’s refusal, for instance, to attend the local Gay Pride Parade, the common-sensical observation of a link between homosexuality and AIDS, or the slightest mockery of the gay lifestyle–will be met with the same sanctimonious outrage as evinced in the fundamentalist Muslim world by criticism of the Prophet. No bombs will explode and no infidels will be killed, but the soft-totalitarian slur of “homophobe” will be enough to put careers, businesses, and reputations in jeopardy. Jobs will be lost, apologies will be demanded, speech will be censored (or self-censored), and another layer in that suffocating blanket of political correctness will be wrapped around the corpse of democratic liberty.

The Great Divide

Harley Price

Hesiod measured the distance ‘twixt Heaven and Hell as “a full eighteen days’ journey as the bronze anvil falls”. Nothing compared to the ideological infinity that separates today’s liberals and conservatives. That, in part, is the thesis of William Gairdner’s latest book, The Great Divide: Why Liberals and Conservatives Will Never, Ever Agree.

Gairdner is the prolific author of a dozen titles, including The War Against the Family, The Trouble with Canada, The Trouble with Democracy, The Book of Absolutes, and The Trouble with Canada…Still: heretical tomes which, notwithstanding the liberal orthodoxy of our age, and the unpromising economies of modern scholarly book-publishing, managed to become immediate bestsellers. The new book is in a sense Gairdner’s summa. Dealing less with topical controversies and policies than the perennial philosophical and moral questions that underlie and inform them (the nature of man, reason, freedom, equality and inequality, and so on, each treated in a separate chapter), The Great Divide is a lucidly reasoned taxonomy of conflicting liberal and conservative ideas. It is certain to be of invaluable use to generations of readers to come, whether serious students of political philosophy, or ordinary citizens who simply like to contend in the arena of ideas, but would prefer to understand more deeply what they are contending about.

As Gairdner observes, our modern Western democracies “from Vancouver to Venice” have triumphed over the external enemies of fascism and communism only to succumb to a protracted civil war between two opposite and irreconcilable world-views. Liberals and conservatives are currently estranged across so vast and unbridgeable a chasm that, even when they are speaking to one another, they are obliged to shout at the top of their lungs, and still can’t make themselves understood.

While he harbours no illusions that the divide will ever be healed, Gairdner exhorts both sides to examine the foundational principles of their own, and their opponents’, arguments, if the emotional volume of the debate is to be turned down, and a resumption of rational discourse made possible again. (Contemporary observers may be forgiven for not knowing that the talking points of political partisans are rooted in intellectual soil. Gairdner shows that they are.)

The first part of his book traces the evolution (or revolution, in the case of liberalism) of the two schools of thought from their Enlightenment origins. What becomes immediately clear is that the classical liberalism of a Voltaire or Locke has rather more in common with the conservatism of Hume and Burke (and with that of today’s benighted “reactionaries”) than it does with its current liberal namesake.

From the birth of democracy in both the United States and Canada to as recently as the beginning of the New Deal, liberals and conservatives have agreed on most things, e.g.: that the preservation of human liberty, which is the principal promise and burden of liberal democracy, can only be accomplished through the restraint of the arbitrary, monopolistic power of the State; that traditional, organic, empirically proven moral norms, customs, institutions, and voluntary associations (family, marriage, church, the free market, local organizations and clubs) are the bedrock of civil society, (and having been formed by voluntary consent, they are the repositories of a spontaneous moral authority in the commonwealth of free men); that a diversity of economic and social conditions is the inevitable and just consequence of both the existential diversity of human character and effort and the ancient principle of equality before the law; that the fault (or advantage) lies in ourselves, not in our stars (whether economic, social, or other “root cause”); and that egalitarianism (as contemporary liberalism defines and evangelizes it) is a direct repudiation of all of the above.

Since then, classical liberalism (and liberal democracy) have mutated into something like parodies of their original selves. While “we still use the flattering term liberal democracy to describe our political systems”, the average ratepayer is now a bondsman of the Pharaonic State for almost half of every working year (until his manumission, that is, on tax freedom day). In today’s Western democracies, the machinery of government is more coercive, more tentacular, and more rapacious–while the residual social and economic liberties of private citizens are fewer, smaller, and more precarious–than practically ever before in history, including under the absolute monarchies whose oppressive yokes the liberals of the eighteenth century thought they had once and for all cast off.

 

Gairdner traces the origins of this wholesale surrender of liberal principles to nineteenth-century socialist theorists, who began to ascribe inequalities to uncontrollable (“unfair”, as we would say today) external causes, and argued that the establishment of universal economic and social equality was the raison d’etre of the beneficent State. But since free individuals, relying upon their own varying talents, exercising their own spontaneous choices, and expressing their own natural differences, will inevitably become “unequal”, socialists have always resorted to the brute leveling force of government (taking from some and giving to others) to reify their egalitarian dreams. Modern democracies have thus “abandon[ed] their previous emphasis on freedom for all, under laws the same for all”, to adopt the egalitarian monstrosity of “equality for all, under unequal laws”. With the progressive income tax, personal and corporate subsidies for some (but not others), affirmative action (for some but not others), and human rights for all (except, e.g., Christian refuseniks of abortion and homosexuality), the foundational principle of the rule of law–impartial and identical treatment of all citizens, irrespective of person–has been peremptorily overturned. After the medieval divine right of kings, after twentieth-century totalitarianism, the modern liberal welfare state has managed to re-enshrine the pre-civilized ethos that might, in the execution of a ruler’s caprice, makes right.

Gairdner postulates that liberty-loving citizens accepted this new statist tyranny as a Faustian bargain: they surrendered their ancient public and political liberties (including their original democratic rights to freedom of speech and religious expression) in exchange for a more or less unlimited freedom of will within a newly-created zone of purely personal and private morality, having to do principally with the modern fetish of sex. Their governments bribed them, that is, with accommodating divorce laws; universally accessible contraception and abortion (further “liberating” them in the quest for sexual “self-realization”); homosexual rights; transgender rights; gay marriage, and so on–all of which were made available “to all equally in the name of freedom”.   While the State has thus abdicated its traditional interest in this newly immunized, irreducibly “private” moral sphere, it has created a “vast public realm funded by massively increased taxation and permanent public debt”, insinuating itself into every corner of formerly autonomous human activity (business, trade, education, child care, health care, elder care, science, the arts), and setting itself up as the universal “benefactor, regulator, and protector” of mankind.

The result has been that conjunctio oppositorum that Gairdner calls “libertarian socialism”, and along with it, the contemporary “tripartite state”, in which one-third of the population work to create wealth, one-third work for government, and the final third live off the benefits distributed to them by the second, having confiscated them from the first. This, as Gairdner suggests, is a self-perpetuating Ponzi scheme, since in majoritarian democracies the latter two sectors will always out-vote the former. No less repugnantly, the tripartite state has created a miasmal swamp of moral confusion, with depredatory, power-hungry governments claiming credit for compassion and generosity, and demagogically inciting their dependents to condemn the “greed” of the productive minority on which they both parasitically batten.

 

In two illuminating chapters (“On Conservatism” and “The Forces at Work”), Gairdner examines the traditional social structures and customs beyond which the modern welfare state has so heroically progressed. Unlike liberals, conservatives have always tended to accept the imperfections of life as a product of the fundamental imperfectability of human nature; (as the late Joe Sobran has described it, their defining mood is one of gratitude, rather than gnawing discontent).   As such, conservatives prefer the civilizational wisdom accumulated by long experience (“the best that has been said and done by our progenitors”) to the abstract concepts and theories upon which revolutionary liberals have founded their successive codes, declarations, and charters for the creation of a perfect society of scrupulously “New Men”, (which have more often resulted in totalitarian hells than the promised heavens on earth). For the renovation of man’s fallen nature, conservatives have relied instead on empirically tested, time-honoured institutions, customs, and norms (the “formative vehicle[s] of our human second nature”), which have evolved and been refined over the course of an immemorial civilizing process. As “natural and organic product[s] of historical experience”, these traditional social arrangements are in fact “prior in existence and importance” both to individuals and the State. Having arisen “from the ground up”, by mutual cooperation and consent, they have an inherent moral authority, which is a direct affront to the coercive power of the imperial State.  And as Gairdner points out, their existential priority wholly invalidates the vaunted liberal “social contract” theory of government: “because…in order for a contract creating civil society to come into being, an entire structure of civility, law, and custom protecting and policing such a contract–a functioning society–would already have to be in place”.

But the main function of civil society, and the private voluntary associations that are its organizing units, is “to welcome and encourage the creation of inequalities in the form of exclusive group privileges, benefits, and duties that are shared by group members only”. For that reason, they have lain directly athwart the path of the egalitarian bulldozer. The reader can think of any number of recent examples, from the assaults on Christian educational institutions, charitable organizations, or the Boy Scouts, to the fiat by which the State has conferred, in the name of equal rights, the privileges of traditional marriage upon same-sex couples, who are disqualified by definition.

The grand project of egalitarian liberal democracy, then, is to declare all formerly exclusive privileges a “right for all”, to annul all qualifying distinctions, and thus, as universal Benefactor, to “transfer to itself the deep loyalties and gratitude generated by the civil social-bonding process”. The State usurps these allegiances by providing what Gairdner calls “substitute caring”, the myriad social programs, community facilities, subsidies for the arts, and so on, which it so generously offers at the expense of every taxpayer, including those who will never use them. A thriving pluralist civil society is thereby converted into what politicians proudly call our “one national family”.   Meanwhile, the dissolution of natural social bonds, which have always been the nurseries of human liberty in flourishing societies, removes the few remaining “real-world barriers to state coercion”.

In these and many other ways, Gairdner traces the descent of liberty and civil society into modern liberal democratic servitude.   A series of eight chapters on some of the fundamental philosophical questions on which liberals and conservatives disagree (human nature, the limits of reason, freedom, will, democracy, equality and inequality, morality and self, God and religion) constitute the bulk of his book; but it is impossible, within the scope of a review, to do justice to the complexity and breadth of Gairdner’s analyses of the liberal-conservative divide on these themes. By way of summary, at the end of each chapter, Gairdner appends a handy little comparative table, through which the reader can determine where he stands on the question (and whether he and his new bride will still be on speaking terms in a couple of years).

 

The one fault of Gairdner’s work is also its virtue. Though he makes no effort to hide his conservatism, he strives throughout to rise above polemics and referee the debate from a posture of neutrality (to which one only wishes modern governments would return). And he succeeds too well. Few liberals, it seems to me, could have written this book.   Since the Sixties, the zealous avidity with which liberals have striven to abominate traditional institutions and norms has far outstripped the disorganized instincts of conservatives to preserve them. Witness the pusillanimous capitulation to President Obama by a recently triumphant majority of Republicans in Congress, desperate not to be accused of creating “gridlock” in Washington, where gridlock, as defined by liberals, is what happens when there’s a Democrat in the White House; (when the President is a Republican, gridlock is the wisely intended consequence of the Founders’ “prudent separation of powers”).

And though Gairdner hopes that an examination of first principles will help to turn the volume down, very early in the book he mentions “political correctness”, whose purpose is to turn the volume off. Political correctness is a liberal project, enforced by all of the totalitarian agencies of the modern egalitarian State about which Gairdner writes. Under its shadow, the problem is not that the debate has become shrill, but that it has become silent.

Finally, as Gairdner demonstrates (though one wishes he had said so explicitly), the Great Divide can hardly be laid at the feet of conservatives. It is liberalism that has decamped to the wildest fringes of the ideological topocosm. And yet it’s liberals who reflexively vilify conservatives as “right wing ideological extremists”. Which is rather on the order of calling one’s relatives back home in Pennsylvania “eastern extremists”, after setting off with one’s stoner buddies to Haight-Ashbury.

But these are quibbles. Gairdner’s analyses of the political quarrels between liberals and conservatives, and the way in which they erupt from subterranean fault-lines of which neither may be fully conscious, are always penetrating and often brilliant in their originality. The style throughout is at once accessible, elegant, and revelatory: replete, that is, with the ironies, paradoxes, and aphoristic strokes for which Gairdner is widely celebrated.   For both liberals and conservatives who wish to think their arguments down to their roots, there is probably no better guide than The Great Divide.

Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell: A Dantesque Journey through Northern Italy, Part 4

Harley Price

Flight Delayed on Account of Ice (i.e., lack of)…

Airport Ikea Floor Plans…

Basic Training…

Expecting the Worst…

Architecturally, with their soaring glass vaults and high-tech construction materials, modern airports are all about the future. And so is air travel. The departure of your flight is always about the future–into which it has inevitably been delayed–, as is its landing, when your plane is in an interminable holding pattern, waiting for the backlog of incoming flights to clear (waiting, that is, for the past to catch up to the present).

There is more hurrying up in order to wait in airports than in hospitals, doctors’ offices, or prisons. As a people, we are loath to keep our doctors, prison guards, or flight crews waiting; so we dutifully arrive ahead of schedule, lest, by some miracle, our doctor, prison guard, or airline is on time. (Unless you are my eighty-six-year-old mother-in-law, who kept a 767 along with two shuttle buses idling on the tarmac for forty-five minutes because, as she said, she was “enjoying a nice cup of tea in the cafe”, and she “thought they would come and get me when they were ready”.)

The official reasons for flight delays are always either lies or truths so absurd one wishes they were lies. Before the aforementioned odyssey to Moscow, I checked in at Kennedy the prescribed two and a half hours ahead of the nominal time for take-off, only to temporize at the gate for another seven hours. We all assumed that there had been some minor mechanical malfunction that was taking seven hours to repair (in the way that all minor mechanical malfunctions take my car mechanic seven hours to repair). But the flight was delayed, as we were told, because the cabin crew was waiting for a delivery of ice. The airline’s thinking was that passengers would rather be kept awake until 2:00 a.m. in a cramped, un-air-conditioned departure lounge than suffer the intolerable hardship of drinking their Mountain Dew at room temperature. Was I the only one who was struck by the irony that Aeroflop Flight 666 was scheduled for a refueling stop in Iceland?

 

In modern airports, the only time the hurry-up-and-wait formula doesn’t apply is when you are trying to catch a connecting flight: then it becomes, hurry-up-and-hope. The footprints of metropolitan airports cover millions of square feet, every one of which is always between you and your departure gate. The theory of probability suggests that the two points in space at which your incoming flight arrives and your outgoing flight departs must, at least some of the time, be closer to each other than half the length of the airport. But this never happens. Even if they are contiguous, there is a law (literally; see below) that prevents you from taking the shortest distance between the two, and requiring instead that you circumambulate the entire airport only to approach it from the opposite direction. Airports seem to be laid out like follow-the-red-arrow Ikeas, which ensure that you walk the entire store on the way to whatever item you’ve come to buy.

When we deplaned at Brussels, we had ninety minutes to catch our flight to Milan. We were doing splendidly, I thought, on the first stage of airport basic training: running—well, walking fast (about 8 mph, with a 4 mph assist from the moving sidewalk)–down one of those long glass corridors that are so suffused with light you almost forget how miserable you are. I might have reached 9 mph, but for the computer bag, camera case, and document wallet suspended from my neck and oscillating violently with each stride like the streamers on a Maypole in a reversing wind. The multiple lacerations caused by the straps digging into my flesh would have been only a minor irritation for, let’s say, a member of the Navy Seals, but the bags kept shifting and throwing my gait off balance. The only way I could restore their equilibrium (since one hand was dedicated to my carry-on and the other to my cane) was to stop periodically and shake myself like a dog that had just come out of the water. This also served to dispel the rivers of sweat that were coursing down my forehead and cheeks; but it didn’t endear me to the other passengers on the moving sidewalk, who evidently had the news about Ebola on their minds.

 

After twenty minutes of running, stopping, and shaking, I arrived at the end of the corridor. Mrs. P. had been waiting there for about five minutes (but then Mrs. P. takes weekly classes in Yoga, Tai Chi, and Osteo-Fit, which is apparently better exercise than driving a golf cart). When I reached her, exhausted, I considered collapsing in a heap at her feet in the theatrical manner of Olympic cross-country skiers when they are three meters past the finish line; but Mrs. P. would not have been impressed.

The corridor gave out into the main terminal, and there everything ground to a halt. We had reached the first of two chokepoints through which all airport traffic is funneled (hence the logic of airport floor plans, as described above). One line, for passengers carrying EU passports, moved briskly. The other, for the lumpenproletariat from the rest of the world, was a rodent maze that followed twenty switch-backs, each fifty feet long, and occupied by a total of some five hundred passengers. (As we inched forward, I wondered why the deadbeat inhabitants of Greece, Spain, and Portugal should be allowed to flounce through, while Canadians, who haven’t cost the German banks a penny, are treated like supplicants. At least in Canada we only sponge off the productive citizens of our own country for our cradle-to-grave welfare entitlements.) At the end of the line, I could see three passport control booths, and a lot of shuffling back and forth from one to the other by the officials. Apparently they only had one stamp amongst them.

 

I knew then and there we wouldn’t make it. My universally optimistic disposition, if you are wondering, is predicated on the utterances of three of the most venerable founts of philosophical wisdom in the entire Western Tradition: William Shakespeare, Melvin Brooks, and my late Aunt Freda. In King Lear, Edgar laments, “The worst is not, so long as we can say, ‘This is the worst’.” By Act IV, scene i, Edgar has already been dispossessed of his birthright by his evil half-brother Edmund, driven into exile on the heath, and reduced there to the state of a “poor, bare, forked animal”. Then he encounters his father Gloucester, whose eyes have just been put out. (Edgar recognizes the folly of assuming that, after a string of disasters, one’s fortunes are bound to improve.) Mel Brooks updated the language, but preserved the meaning, of Edgar’s paradox in the refrain of the theme song for his movie The Twelve Chairs: “Hope for the best, expect the worst”. Good advice, given that the film is set in nineteenth-century Russia, when things were rather unpleasant for the peasantry, until they followed the example of their French cousins. Then they got Lenin, Stalin, the Ukrainian famine, the Siberian gulag, and the Lada sedan. Wisest of all was the sapient imprecation of my old aunt: “When I die, may I go straight to hell; I don’t want to be disappointed again.” I have it on good authority that my aunt went, disappointedly, to heaven, where she complained about the accommodations, the weather, and the fact that she couldn’t find a decent piece of brisket.

Deconstructing the Deconstructionists

Harley Price

Liberalism is a smiley-faced demolition project–in a purely positive, hopey-changey sense of the word “demolition”, that is. The highway of history, you see, is littered with the wrecks of “social constructs” which, impeding human progress, must be cleared out of the way. Margaret Mead taught us that patriarchy was a social construct. According to moral relativists, right and wrong are social constructs. Recently we discovered that traditional marriage (i.e., between a man and woman) was a social construct. And just yesterday, we learned that even being a man or a woman is a social construct. (Any more social constructs, and we’ll need a building permit.)

For liberals, there only a few things that are not in fact social constructs: e.g., unrestricted abortion, subsidized housing, school lunches, and food stamps, which are permanent and immutable rights, not to be tampered with. Modern liberalism reduces to: “Out with social constructs; hands off my entitlements.” (It is a philosophy, as P.J. O’Rourke has observed, of Big Ideas: so big, they can usually fit on the front of a T-shirt.)

If the gender to which humans are assigned at birth can be a social construct, why not the digestive system (you may ask)?  In the not so distant future, the digestive system may well be declared a social construct, should liberals decide that it interferes with every citizen’s human right to be disease-free. Eating food does lead to obesity, diabetes, and heart disease, and it rapes the body of Gaea (remember that male rape culture is not a social construct) of plant and animal life. If we can raise our consciousness above such artificial conventions as male and female, surely we can rise above the small intestine.

As near as I can tell, a social construct is anything that progressives disapprove of. Heterosexuality, for instance, is a social construct, whereas homosexuality is not. An “alternative lifestyle” isn’t a choice or preference that homosexuals can elect or alter, let alone an aberration or sin; rather, some people are just “born gay”. Their homosexuality is an inexorable fact of nature, predetermined and encoded in their DNA–unlike, say, the male or female genitalia. Consider, then, a gay man (from the liberal point of view), and remember that his preference for members of the male sex is biologically pre-ordained, whereas his male member is customary, optional (a mere “social construct”). Suppose, then, that he “chooses” (as is his human right) to become a woman. Compelled by an immutable homosexual nature, would he thereafter be attracted to women (“a transgendered lesbian”), or would he continue to like boys (“a transgendered heterosexual”)? (Just asking.) What a complicated world we live in.

 

The self-deconstructing absurdity of progressive arguments about social constructs only adds to the growing suspicion that liberals are adepts of junk science. Junk science, of course, has the virtue of being eternally self-regenerating (like recycled garbage). If you can adduce the unusually frigid winters of late as evidence for global warming, then how difficult should it be to vapourize into cultural atavisms the x and y chromosomes, or, conversely, pretend to find another for homosexuality, as yet undiscovered and lurking in some genetic black hole?

In general, modern junk sociology is the off-gassing of liberal hatred of normalcy. As Chesterton noted, it is the mark of the modern to everywhere and always subordinate the normative to the non-normative. But the new-fangled arbitrariness with which same-sex “marriage” and fungible gender have been declared natural and normative tells us that they, in fact, are the flimsiest of social constructs. By contrast, the antiquity, stubborn longevity, and practical ubiquity of the institution of heterosexual marriage (not to mention the biological fact of male and female) should be proof enough that they are not.

Since Adam and Eve first hid their nakedness, everyone in the civilized world has agreed that marriage between a man and a woman, as an inference from the disposition of the race into two genders, is natural and normative–until a few years ago, that is, when Canada’s federal Liberals enacted legislation to recognize same-sex unions, and Canada’s provincial Liberals invited little Johnny (in Kathleen Wynne’s sexual education curriculum) to question whether he is really a Jennifer trapped in a male body. A year after the former, our soi-disant Conservative prime minister declared the matter “settled”, because, as he said, opinion polls showed that a majority of Canadians had made their peace with gay marriage. If Harper’s opinion polls are accurate (though I suspect we are still in the realm of junk science here), this is a perfect example of what Daniel Patrick Moynihan described as “dumbing deviancy down”: the reflex of a bourgeois majority, whenever a non-normative behaviour reaches a certain threshold, to tranquillize its anxieties by declaring that behavior “normal”.

 

But neither legislation nor majority approval can “settle” the matter. Were they elected to the governing council of the PGA, an overwhelming majority of my golfing buddies would enact a law to make the winner in golf the person with the highest score. And that is why neither laws nor majorities tell us anything about justice or truth.

Popular opinion has always been less than Solomonic, and should hardly be the arbiter of such fundamental matters of human morality as marriage, abortion, or gender. This is a truism that the entire civilized world used to recognize–until, that is, it succumbed to our modern fetishistic reverence for electoral democracy. As Seneca observed, when moral questions are under consideration, it is no use to say, “‘This side seems to be in a majority’. For that is just the reason it is the worst side.” Cicero was no less doubtful of revolutionary legal decisions, which he disdained as enactments of “the crowd’s definition of law”. The morality and justice of written laws, according to Cicero, can only be judged by an eternal and immutable Law that is “rooted in Nature”, and “which had its origin ages before any written law existed or any State had been established”. Legislators can pass laws that are “heedless of Nature” if they choose, “but such a law can no more make justice out of injustice than it can make good out of bad”.

Canada’s ruling parties have legislated the fiction of same-sex “marriage”, and will soon be merchandising the progressive fantasy of made-to-measure gender to our children; but they can’t make them realities, not even if a majority of voters agrees.

Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell: A Dantesque Journey through Northern Italy, Part 3

Harley Price

Taxi or Limousine?…

Traveling to the Third World (to the Airport, that is)…

Wheelchair Formula One…

Will that be Curry or Cologne?…

Demonic Little Boys…

Sleepless over the Atlantic…

They say that getting there is half the fun. But that depends upon whether you see the glass of travel as half full or half empty. Personally, I’ve always considered those who see the glass half full to be at least half full of it, and those who see it completely full, to be completely full of it.

According to what “they” say, getting to the airport should be more than a third of the fun, since the bumper-to-bumper thirty-kilometre slog through the suburbs takes almost as long as the three-thousand-mile flight across the Atlantic. In Toronto, where there is no rail link between downtown and the airport, getting there presents two choices: taxi or “luxurious airport limousine”. That’s a no brainer, as they also say. You can call a cab and be picked up by a beat-up, broken-down, ten-year-old Chevy Impala with no springs (chassis-wise or seat-wise), reeking with the smell of one of those pine-tree-shaped artificial air fresheners that hang from the rear-view mirror, and driven by a chap who speaks no English and knows no streets, because he arrived from Bwaamba Bwaamba a month ago. Or, you can call a “luxurious airport limousine”, and be picked up by a beat-up, broken-down, ten-year-old Lincoln Town Car with no springs (chassis-wise or seat-wise), reeking with the smell of a pine-tree-shaped artificial air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, and driven by a chap who speaks no English and knows no streets because he arrived from Bwaamba Bwaaamba a month ago, but wears a cap and natty uniform. Or you can call a friend and beg him to drive you.

We did, and he did, in his just washed and waxed Cadillac DeVille, which he never fails to remind us is “a prestige automobile” (but then, recipients of charity can hardly object to being put in their place). As soon as we reached the highway, I became convinced that I had left the front door unlocked; but then my wife reminded me that every time I leave the house I am convinced that I’ve left the front door unlocked.

 

When a traveler enters the Toronto International Airport, he already feels that he is on vacation. In the Third World, specifically. Practically all of the airport staff (the taxi dispatchers, cleaners, security guards, customs and passport officials) are either from India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, or Bangladesh. Knowing Canada’s incredibly lax immigration laws, it makes one wonder. How many of the government functionaries checking visas are themselves illegal aliens? How many of the turbaned quasi-military types wanding passengers down at the security checkpoints are sympathizers of the Tamil Tigers? My suspicions may be completely unfounded, but I doubt that I’m alone in wondering, even if the pall of silence cast by multicultural correctness means that nobody dares to ask. In any case, I’m sure that passengers entering Toronto Airport from Western Europe, say, have often looked around and stopped to wonder whether they got on the wrong connecting flight.

In fact, we remained, contextually speaking, in South Asia until we deplaned in Brussels. That’s because the cheapest flight we could find to Milan was on something called Jet Airways. No one has ever heard of Jet Airways, which is headquartered in Delhi—not even the staff whom we asked at the Air India counter.

When we reached the departure gate, it was already full of passengers, over ninety percent of whom were presumably returning to India from visits with relatives in Canada or traveling to India to visit relatives back home. The other thing I noticed were two long lines of passengers in wheelchairs. There must have been fifty “handicapped” travelers on our flight, fully one-fifth of the total roster. Immediately, I sensed something fishy; even I know that the Indians are no longer stricken in numbers by crippling diseases. When they called boarding for “passengers requiring assistance”, the wheelchairs commenced to roll, and the scene looked a bit like the scrambled start of a Formula One race. The Indians are savvy travelers. They’ve learned the quickest and easiest way to get into their seats. The rest of us stood in line with our luggage for another half an hour. I leaned on my cane, trying to relieve the pain in my hip, and feeling (as usual) like a chump.

 

The flight itself lived up to our low expectations. The interior of the plane was no-frills-airline shabby, the seats more than usually cramped and hard, and the atmosphere thick with the mingled aromas of curried chicken wafting from the galley, and curried chicken wafting from the bodies of the passengers. I wondered if the pilot had an extra artificial air freshener hanging from his rear-view mirror. In the meantime, I sniffed my unlit cigar, but the cheap cologne of the corpulent male passenger next to me induced a persistent headache. We were lucky in that the only two empty seats on the plane were across the aisle, and decamped as soon as the seatbelt sign was extinguished (along with the sign to extinguish our cigarettes. Does anyone in the world still need to be admonished that “this is a non-smoking flight”? If so, where do I find a smoking flight?)

In the row behind our new seats sat a demonic little boy who, every fifteen minutes or so, shouted out, “Die, you bozo”, whenever he scored a kill in the video game he was playing. Then he kicked the back of my seat in celebration of his triumph. Eventually, I turned around and gave him a look that he correctly interpreted to mean, “Die, you bozo”, whereupon he curled up on his seat cushion in the fetal position. Then I kicked the seat in front of me in celebration of my triumph.

Even in the absence of these inevitable olfactory and auditory assaults, there is no sleeping on an airplane. Not for me, at least. On my periodic “walks” through the cabin, I saw rows of arched necks, noses in the air, gaping mouths, and lower jaws thrust forward in the configuration of a fish scooping up plankton. (On a flight to Moscow fifteen years ago, I remember another demonic little boy amusing himself by popping peanuts into the open orifices of sleeping passengers.)

But passengers who are able to descend into the cave of Morpheus from today’s economy class seats would have been able to sleep through the ministrations of Procrustes. When we arrived in Brussels at 8:30 a.m. (2:30 in the morning Toronto time), we had been awake for nineteen hours. And that was when we needed to have all our wits about us.

Like the hoteliers who have never slept in their own hotels, the travel agents who assure you that an hour and a half is plenty of time to make your connecting flight at the other end of a modern, metropolitan airport have obviously never tried it. Unless, in their spare time, they are Olympic athletes specializing in the four-thousand-metre hurdles.

L-G-B-T, E-F-G, Now I Know My ABC’s

Harley Price

When Mark Steyn alluded to Kathleen Wynne’s renewed attempt to smuggle her radical “sex education” curriculum into the elementary school classroom (I’d call it a hidden agenda, but only conservatives have hidden agendas), Heather Reisman nearly fell off her hostess chair. Interrupting her interview with Steyn on his new book, Canada’s self-proclaimed Reader-in-Chief protested, “I’ve never heard of that.”  (In liberal-speak, “I’ve never heard of that” means: “You-made-it-up-you-paranoid-right-wing-reactionary-pursuer-of-the-politics-of-fear-exclusion-and-cultural-insensitivity.”) When a paranoid, right-wing, reactionary pursuer of the politics of fear, exclusion, and cultural insensitivity shouted out from the sidelines (the present writer, I confess) that Canada’s Reader-in Chief should try reading a non-liberal newspaper for a change, the audience laughed insensitively, and the unwonted thrill of being part of a conservative majority in downtown Toronto nearly overcame us all.

Liberals seem not to have heard of a multitude of things of which we much less well-educated conservatives are quirkily cognizant (balancing the budget by reducing spending rather than increasing taxes; raising one’s children in the home rather than in State-subsidized daycare; coeds paying for their own contraceptives). Liberals are not so much opposed to the other side as incredulous that there is another side. Whenever they discover that there are people who disagree with them, they attribute their recalcitrant non-conformity to moral defectiveness (racism, sexism, capitalist rapacity), mental instability (“phobias”, Christian “superstition”), or substance abuse (addiction to oil, or to “guns and religion”, as America’s Liberal-in-Chief was recently heard to say, with similar incredulity).

 

In truth, it is hard to believe–for urbane literati like Reisman and gap-toothed Mark Steyn groupies alike–that a provincial government ministry could propose to teach pre-pubescents how to masturbate and negotiate “consent”, all the while encouraging them to question their sexual “orientation” and even their gender. I would have thought that onanism was the one scholastic subject for which young boys already possessed a natural aptitude.   (Since they require no formal instruction in it, wouldn’t the time be better spent practising how to put on the hijab in cultural diversity class?) As for the rest, little kids as yet have no sexual orientation.   Amongst the vast majority who will in due course go on to establish normal heterosexual unions, males in grade school regard their female counterparts as aliens from the planet Zebulon; while the girls think of the boys as a species of vermin. Pre-pubescents are by definition pre-sexual. It is perverse to try to coax them out of the closet when they haven’t yet entered the house.

In its stupidity, Wynne’s curriculum is nothing new. Sex educators have long proven that they know nothing about either sex or education; but then the people who insist on re-engineering human life, and those who are completely ignorant about how human life is engineered, are invariably the same people. The case for strangers teaching the kids of strangers about the most intimate human relationship in the schools (as opposed to parents in the home) boils down to: They’re going to do it anyway, so let’s give ‘em condoms. And ever since, the graph-lines tracing the rise of teen pregnancy and venereal disease have mirrored the attitude of the membrum virile of the typically ithyphallic adolescent male. When a society gives tacit approval to pre-marital sex by saying to its youth, “You’re going to do it anyway”, it’s no surprise if they “do it anyway”, with renewed confidence and vigour, and with the consequence that more and more of them get pregnant and contract disease. (Try to imagine the nanny State saying to parents, “Kids are going to do it anyway; so let’s make it safer for them by sending them home with two packs of filtered cigarettes a day.”   But then, smoking is considered a capital crime these days, whereas sexual gratification is the means to self-realization. In our post-religious, post-philosophical age, physical health counts for everything, the health of the soul, nothing at all.)

It’s the rank iniquity of Wynne’s curriculum that makes it truly original. The sexual Mengeles who think it’s a good idea for teachers to help awaken pre-teens to their latent homosexuality are theatrically indignant when Catholic priests are caught doing the same thing in the rectory. Encouraging kids to “question their sexual orientation” is a euphemism for homosexual recruitment; when the captive victim is too young to have acquired the intellectual armour to defend himself against such depredations, it is child abuse. Even the ancient Greeks considered it shameful to interfere with children before they reached the age of reason. But don’t be surprised if teachers are trained in Ontario’s faculties of education to detect in little Johnny’s perfectly normal preference for male companionship the tender buds of an alternative lifestyle. No doubt the little tykes themselves will enjoy the new LGBT curriculum; who wouldn’t prefer a field trip to the Pride Parade over another of those dreary outings to the wind turbine farm, or the latest Occupy Whatever protest? I only wonder how lessons in cross dressing will go over with the Muslim student body.

 

No one can by now underestimate the absurdity and moral depravity to which progressive ideologues are capable of descending. Social conservatives used to inveigh against the Left’s moral experiments by warning about a “slippery slope”. A generation ago feminists pleaded for the modest right to abortion in the case of a threat to the life or health of the mother; today abortion is permissible at any time, for any reason; and even with unrestricted access to this apocalyptic form of contraception, in urban centres throughout North America, nearly one out of every two children is born out of wedlock. About the same time, homosexuals pleaded (with justice) not to be harassed or discriminated against; today, they demand universal social approval, and criminalize any refusal to grant it, including on the part of Christians exercising their centuries-old rights to freedom of religion. Social conservatives have been wildly too optimistic; and liberals were right all along in denying the existence of a slippery slope. There has never been a slippery slope; it was always, right from the beginning, a direct, vertical leap into the progressive abyss.

With Wynne’s sex ed curriculum, we have at last splashed down in a miasmal sewer from which it’s hard to sink any further.  If parents continue to sit by and submit blithely to the corruption of their children in State-run moral re-education camps, they should hardly be surprised when little Johnny comes home one day and, after hectoring them as usual on the size of their carbon footprint, announces that he is gay, or demands a sex-change operation.   If they fail to mount even such protests as the Left routinely mounts at the least offense to their overwrought sensitivities or tiniest rebuff to their agenda, they will have acknowledged their defeat, once and for all, in the culture wars. And should Wynne’s agenda be implemented, if they don’t withdraw their offspring from school en masse, with whatever legal consequences that entails, they will have convicted themselves of complicity in the sexual abuse of their own children.