New Traditionalists

A return to the more general Traditionalist battle.

As of late I have been reading A Return to Order by John Horvat II. The book, primarily, concerns a very American take on the need to return to an organic traditionalist society and goes a long way to pointing out the underlying causes and currents that led to our current state affairs, with a particular, and rightful, focus on the economic insanity we have slowly been delving into since the 1700s. I would recommend the book as part of a wider diet on traditionalist thought and it is heartening to see the roots of the cause take root in America of all places which has never been a friend of traditionalism.

It does however; contain the amusing, I would say adorable, naiveté that one can return to a traditionalist society, more so, feudalist as the book espouses, without a return to monarchism and aristocracy. While it does not express it, the underlying implication in this book, and unfortunately with a lot of newer traditionalists I have found, is that the modern republic was somehow an aberrant evolution of traditional society, aberrant in the sense it defied the downward spiral of civilization and was not, indeed, a symptom of it. It reminds me of the charming belief of many contemporary American conservatives who believe the country's original values were the pinnacle of civilization and the downfall of America only really began with the instituting of the Federal reserve, or the sexual revolution.

This is not to imply John is new to the traditionalist scene, no, I am merely pointing out an additional underlying current I have noticed, using his text as an example.

I am, however, not particularly concerned about this, indeed I see it in the same light I see the enthusiasm of newly converted monarchists. That of unbridled and unshakeable belief in the rightness of the cause and all the benefits therein while subtly ignoring the inherent problems with all the zeal of the convert. That is, before they mature in their thought. I know this because it was exactly how I was when I eventually became a monarchist, although indeed, I had the advantage of coming to my monarchism as a cynic and seeing the inadequacies before my conversion. It involves a lot of thought and re-evaluation of what you hold dear as should any change in ideology, which is why so many of the public, so cowed by consumerism and encouraged not to think are reluctant to do so. After all it only benefits the party system is the public is divided and recalcitrant to change opinions, job security is a hell of a motivation.

So too I believe is the case with new traditionalists. Slowly but surely they might come to realize a republic on the scale of a country is incompatible with the other traditionalist values they cherish, and the living examples of such states lasting the test of time while remaining somewhat traditional can be counted on one hand, (not counting city states), such as Switzerland, although I have heard arguments to the contrary. It’s not guaranteed, after all, I did meet a monarchist one time who was so utterly convinced his beliefs could be married with Marxism. I'll let you figure that one out, as I have no answers for you there.

Granted they're welcome to try, a traditionalist republic would have certainly been the eventual result had say, the Confederate states of America successfully seceded from the USA, which while the slave issue would be eternally regrettable until the CSA's European friends pressured them into giving it up, would have been immensely interesting as a nation. But forgive me if I don't hold my breath, as that outcome seems even more radically unlikely than the restoration of a crown.

With all that said, I do recommend a reading of this book; it provides a necessary economic focus on the traditional battle that is at once different from Distributism and at the same time, complimentary. Always good to have more diversity from the modern, accepted models.

On having a difficult Monarch

A question Monarchists often get asked when they make the case for monarchism is the oft cited yet poorly thought argument: "But what if we have a bad monarch?" By which we could argue all day by what we mean by bad, there have been numerous harsh rulers in human history who often brought their country kicking and screaming into either greatness or equality on the world stage. But of course they mean the tyrants, or the imbeciles, or the ones who don't know what damage they do to the hearts of their subjects and countrymen by poorly thought out words.

However to these people, and many of whom are my fellow Catholics, I say 'Well, what about Pope Francis?"

The Catholic Church and its members are facing this dilemna right now, and it pains me to say it but yes, I honestly think Pope Franciscus is a 'bad Pope'. At least, by all indications he is one. For are we all not bound to obey him? Particular myself since I did swear publicly to do so. Therefore we are faced with a great difficulty, obeying and loving a Pope whose inconsistency and flippancy is harming the faith we love. And make no mistake, it is.

Now before you fling the fire and arrows at me, I am not comparing him to the Borgias or other 'black Popes', certainly not, he has yet to prove himself a Tyrant so he does not deserve such rotten comparisons. He is however, endlessly flippant in his manner of speech and flouting of Papal protocals. He is the Pope and he may live where-ever he wishes, but the cumulative effect of flouting of traditions and, indeed, treasures of the Faith, (It pained me to see him on the balcony without him wearing the red), has done immense damage spiritually. His casual remarks about the greatest evils of the modern world being youth unemployment and loneliness of the elderly rocks the Catholic base because it is so supremely out of touch with the modern world and its multitudious failings, some of which are infinitely greater then the evils he mentioned. And of course, I say this as an unemployed young man.

This is not meant to be a criticism of the Pope as there are better Catholics then myself discussing his recent actions, but rather a preface to our real concern in this article: That is how Catholics are handling it.

The answer: Badly.

The difference has been staggering. Those who considered themselves conservative Catholics who condemned the liberal Catholics of the world for trying to shut them up under Benedictus are now shouting at the traditionalists to shut up for fear of causing dissent over the Pope's actions, while the traditionalists, who for years had been shrugging off the odious and unjustified title of Pharisee seem to be in danger of outright calling the Pope a heretic, some even openly flirting with Schism.

All the while the liberals are purring like Persian cats in the laps of the enemy and organisations like NARAL are doing the happy dance.

Pardon my language, if you will my friends.

But you all need a bloody slap across the jaw.

The Pope's actions are incredibly regrettable, although he hasn't contradicted Dogma or doctrine, but that is no excuse for the conservatives to forgive the foolishness of his recent actions. The doctrinal sanctity is the Bailey of the castle, and you should not count it as a victory that it has not fallen when the walls are tumbled, the moat crossed and the surrounding city in flames. Meanwhile, to traditionalist, I would warn that flirting too close to schism risks the same as opening the gates to let the enemy in, because when an army's heavy shock troops leave the formation, what will forestall the enemy's spears? Are you that keen on letting the line break?

Thank God we have Francis and not a Borgia, because if this is how you conduct yourselves in the face of a Pope who is merely SUPREMELY naive and, dare I say it, Childish (not childlike) in how he conducts his office, I'd hate to see how you would fair if we truly had a black Pope to contend with.

If you want to have an effect on how he conducts himself, then, take advantage of something we all know he actually pays attention to. Send him a letter, have it signed by thousands of concerned Catholics (don't you dare tell me you are incapable of doing it, a hundred Catholics with a rosary can start an avalanche) with actual ink, in their actual handwriting. Its been done before, agree to a formal letter in respectful tone, detailing the anguish the Pope's actions have caused and more importantly, ask him why he seems as though he is blind to the anguish it causes. Then sign it with everyone you know, pass it along to the next city and so on. If secular people on a site as odious as Deviantart can do a similar project, you damn well can as well. He may turn away a spiritual gift of a million rosaries, but I'd like to see him turn away a letter with so many names upon it, written in their own hands. If nothing else, we'd get the measure of the man.

As for myself, I will admit, although I am loathed to, I had misgivings from the start with Francis. From the moment I saw him on the Loggia, I had a strange, deadening feeling inside my heart, I do not know what it was, probably nervousness, but I paid it no mind, I was not going to judge a man I did not know in the slightest based on a mere feeling.

What disturbs me most, is that through reading the blogs of my fellows I found I was not the only one who felt it.

With apologies to Narcissus

It has been some time since my last post and it has been for a good reason. Because for the longest while I have been under the veil of utter despair.

The reasons many fold, of course, and, to regular visitors and readers of this blog, quite obvious. I am something of an introvert, you see, while I can chat up a storm when in the right mood, I nonetheless keep alot of thoughts close to my chest including personal ones, as is only proper and gentlemanly. However, it led to a disproportionate amount of naval gazing on my part, self criticism and defeatism which conspired to choke whatever flame I had to motivate my writings on this blog. For quite some time I doubted I even believed anymore. But such is the way of depression.

Over this period I attacked myself for personal failings as well as the impossibility of saving this world, restoring monarchy in any sense were it would be worthy to be restored, or even as moderately saving Ireland from its own downfall.

Well so it was until I went to the Novena of St. Gerard Majella in Dundalk this past week, as did thousands of others. There, amdist the confessionals, the soaring arches, the beautifully vaults of the ceiling and the high altar did I make my first confession in a quite some time. There really is nothing like having a weight lifted off of you to give some perspective on exactly how silly you have been. I started to analyse exactly why I had been the way I had been.

My answer came to me as soon as myself and my mother walked back to our car. We passed by a corner bar, quite a large one, that had been shut down. Iron grates placed upon the windows and doors and in a doorway there was a pair of red slippers and an empty bottle of vodka.

It was a microcosm. The reasons why I had been in such despair in miniature form. Upon asking my mother about the bar I learned it was actually quite a popular one back in the day, and the most stereotypical of Irish bars as Irish bars get and looks about what you'd expect. Complete with the now old fashioned hanging sign advertising Guinness. The global recession had killed it and the area was poorer and more distraught for the loss. And as we drove passed newly built yet thoroughly empty office buildings I began to consider what else had been killing me silently.

The first of many instances I recall was walking in the castlecourt shopping center in Belfast. I was standing in line for burger king (fastfood being a problem in itself but one cancer at a time please), and in front of me in the line were a pair of girls no older then 14, 15 at the most. Both were wearing black jackets with a pink female figure in silhouette on its back grasping a pole suggestively. They were both attendants at some pole dancing instructor class, I saw this and my heart broke. What was once and still is illicit, erotic and shameful is now being thought to young girls as exercise and socially acceptable. This and a million other things accumulated silently but it was only now I realized that it wasn't these evils that had been having such an effect on me, but my impotency in countering it.

I am reminded of a post on the badcatholic blog on Patheos, which rages against the ephemeral and immaterial nature of modern day language and concerns. Modern morality is relativistic, good and evil are relative, which ultimate means all moral concerns are immaterial and do not ultimately matter. Therefore you must constantly talk in circles when confronting someone on a matter. He compared it to something like trying to grasp smoke or boxing with a ghost. Futile by design.

And it was this powerlessness that got to me in the end. What was I to do? Scream at the children in front of me that they were being trained to prostitute themselves? Insist in paying the shopkeeper in grams of gold for my purchases to frustrate the monetary noose around our necks? What issue could I truly solve without proclaiming myself Dictator and usurping the nation?

And so I festered, failing to look after my own well being of body or soul for such was my despair. I started this blog knowing I was fighting an uphill battle from the utter depths of the Marianas trench for a goal that was ultimately intellectual: that of propagating monarchism as a valid idea in the Irish consciousness. But all the horrors of the modern world desecrating absolutely everything sacred and beautiful, and the blunt truth that nothing but forceful emotionalism will win hearts in this narcissistic age of hedonism and vice forced me to curl up in my foxhole, shell shocked. King David had it easy, it seemed, at least Goliath could be struck.

So it would have been the end of this blog had it not been for that Novena and my remembrance of that kernal of Irishness. That stubborn, dogged, bloody minded refusal of evil. The same spark that brought the Drunkard to prayer, and the spiteful man to give to charity. Less because it is expected and more because it is what ought to be done and somewhere within us we know it. It is what brought my mother to confession even though she continues to stress to me that she doesn't believe she requires it. A strange sort of hope that confounds despair, and sunders confusion. That even now with our culture so thoroughly ravaged and destroyed by Americanism and the financial follies of the modern world, Hibernia can still be saved, body and soul. If Ireland could survive the horrors of neglect, murder, rapine, famine, torture and war through the centuries, it will survive this most brutal of drug addictions. Such is what I believe. Or else I will die.

I know not how, or by what means, but this ship will be righted and by God, it will have a crown.