Thursday roundup

 Francis X. Maier of the Ethics and Public Policy Center has a piece called "My Kind of Antichrist." The title had me scratching my head until I grasped the contour of his argument. What he's referring to is how the Enemy impacts each of us individually. After looking at the notions of a personal antichrist put forth by Robert Hugh Benson and Romano Guardini, in which a human figure proves to be the crafty architect of the world's ills, Maier gets to wha we really need to be attentive to:

These weeks between Baptism of the Lord and Ash Wednesday belong to Ordinary Time on the Church calendar. They’re a kind of Great Plains on the Christian wagon train to our real home. They’re where everyday life happens; where the choices are made and the directions are set for our final destination. In other words, they matter. The Antichrist of Benson, Solovyov, and Guardini may one day show up on the human horizon; the Devil has a taste for grand melodrama. It appeals to his pride. But such things are not for us to know, and speculating on them is an indulgence and a waste.

Instead, we might all of us, and each of us these days, profitably read the First Letter of John, especially 4:1-6 and 2:1-6. It turns out that “antichrist” comes in all shapes and sizes. As John says, it’s the spirit of all things not of God. Which means that my kind of antichrist – and yours – is the sin we find easiest to absolve or ignore in ourselves; the sins hardest to resist and most congenial to our appetites. Their name, if we’re honest, is Legion.

And admitting that is the first step toward making Ordinary Time, conversion time.

At his Substack, Ted Goia posits that, by the broad set of criteria by which we need to consider a city's musical importance, we should elevate one above the other contenders:

Which city is our best role model in creating a healthy and creative musical culture?

Is it New York or London? Paris or Tokyo? Los Angeles or Shanghai? Nashville or Vienna? Berlin or Rio de Janeiro?

That depends on what you’re looking for. Do you value innovation or tradition? Do you want insider acclaim or crossover success? Is your aim to maximize creativity or promote diversity? Are you seeking timeless artistry or quick money attracting a large audience? 

Ah, I want all of these things. So I only have one choice—but I’m sure my city isn’t even on your list.

My ideal music city is Córdoba, Spain. 

But I’m not talking about today. I’m referring to Córdoba around the year 1000 AD. 

At Law & Liberty, Rachel Lu exhaustively, and by process of elimination, zeroes in on what she thinks an airtight definition of a woman is.

Along the way, she gives a measured assessment of what she thinks Matt Walsh got right and got wrong in searching for the answer to this question:

Right-wing polemicist Matt Walsh got in on the conversation this year with a documentary simply titled What is a Woman?  It’s a “hostile engagement” piece in the tradition of Fahrenheit 9/11, presented as a kind of ideological exposé in which Walsh skewers the gender-ideology gurus with ease. I dislike this genre, mainly because it opens such wide pathways to dishonesty and distortion. A documentary, by its nature, cherry-picks details to create a smooth narrative. It is a singularly terrible medium for exploring hot-button topics like this. Still, I mostly agree with Walsh on substance, and he did a fairly good job of illustrating some of the deep contradictions in modern gender theory. 

I still had one major complaint. When a documentary is titled with a question, I read this as an implicit promise to answer that question. But he doesn’t, or not really. Supposedly Walsh is a guy who just “likes to understand things,” and he presents that wide-eyed faux-curiosity to the activists and gender theorists. If understanding is really the goal of this film though, it ends in tragedy. Walsh chuckles at Jordan Peterson’s observation that a man who wants to know what a woman is should “marry one and find out.” Then he returns home to his own wife, preparing food in their kitchen, and poses the question to her. She tells him nonchalantly that a woman is, “An adult human female… who needs help with this jar of pickles.” Cue the laugh track. 

Call me a no-fun feminist, but I’d have preferred an answer thoughtful enough to stand on its own, sans pickle gag. I think the audience deserved that, after watching Walsh crusade around like a truth-in-gender Socrates, demanding honest responses to “the question you’re not allowed to ask.” I realize, of course, that the plebeian ending was very deliberate. Walsh wants to imply that sensible, grounded people should not need to pose this question. They know what a woman is, just like their grandparents and great-grandparents before them. From the mouths of sandwich-making housewives, we can still receive commonsense truths now forgotten by our “learned scholars.” I get it. But I still do not approve.

It’s clear enough, certainly, that most humans historically would have laughed at Walsh’s title question. And they did know what a woman was, at least in the sense that they were able to distinguish men from women with a high degree of accuracy. Even today, most people can do this, despite the changed names and puberty-blocking medications. Most of us can tell when the clerk in the frilly pink blouse is a man, even if the name tag reads “Jessica.” We don’t say anything. But we can tell. Gender ideology feels insidious in part because it asks us to “forget” or decline to notice things that we all really see and understand.

Lu concludes by saying that if we define a woman as the adult human being who is equipped o bear children, it actually liberates women and opens the door to productive conversations about the potentialities of all people:

The functional-reproductive definition can help with the fractious issue of gender stereotypes. It liberates us both from needlessly restrictive stereotypes, and from gender-equality crusades. One need not conform to common stereotypes to be a woman, and yet, it should not alarm us to find that some stereotypes broadly hold. I myself prefer football to fashion, and philosophy to party planning; I recognize that this is somewhat unusual for a woman. So what? Most people are outliers in one way or another, and this need not be either laudable or shameful. People are unique. In social settings, we may sometimes find ourselves leaning on “soft stereotypes,” simply because we don’t have time to get to know every person intimately. However, if we properly recognize the difference between defining features of sex and more incidental broad-based trends, we should be able to cultivate some flexibility, abandoning inapplicable stereotypes as we get to know particular individuals. 

Moving beyond the realm of etiquette, we can see that sex has real social and ethical implications, which the functional-reproductive definition makes clear. Men have a stronger sex drive, while women’s biological role in reproduction is far more arduous. Those two facts fundamentally explain why women have sex-specific vulnerabilities, which must be accounted for in both law and culture. Women sometimes need sex-specific protections against the possibility of male predation, and human societies must also compensate somehow for their disproportionately-heavy reproductive burden. Mothers need help, and fathers need to be encouraged to develop relationships with their offspring. The human race has long had a solution to both problems: marriage.

In modern times, we have also become more sensitive to the potential for women’s opportunities to be limited unreasonably when protection becomes the overwhelming social priority where their sex is concerned. Motherhood is a very good thing, but it does not exhaust the full range of women’s potentialities. Women’s sports exist because it seems fitting, in an opportunity-rich society, to cultivate and celebrate the athletic potentialities of both sexes. Women, as a group, are a bit slower and weaker than men, but the female body was built to run, jump, throw, and swim, just like the male body. Women’s sports showcase and develop the female body, which is why it is unjust to allow a man to win the top prizes. That undercuts the purpose of the sport, just as a men’s race would be rendered pointless if a horse were permitted to win first prize. 

Sex is biological, but it goes beyond biology precisely because human reproduction is very important. Children need protection and nurturing, and adults need to learn to respect both their own, and the opposite sex’s, sexual and reproductive powers. But we also need to learn not to reduce people to their reproductive potentialities. Women are more than wombs, just as men are more than Darwinian “selfish genes” seeking to leave the greatest possible number of offspring. Sexed bodies have real significance, but this is just one aspect of human life; people are much more than just representatives of their sex. It can be difficult to understand all of this in a society that is obsessed with identity, and deeply confused about sex and reproduction.

That’s why it is important to define “woman.” The goal is not to vanquish ideological enemies with a knockdown conversation ender. Instead, the conversation should start right here.

At The Public Discourse, Joshua Spalding has a piece called "Don't Immanentize the Eschaton." The title comes from a William F. Buckley quip, which in turn comes from a thought from Eric Voegelin:

Buckley coined the phrase “don’t let them immanentize the eschaton” after reading Eric Voegelin’s The New Science of Politics, which stated that “a theoretical problem arises . . . when Christian transcendental fulfillment becomes immanentized.” While Buckley’s witty slogan distilled something important from Voegelin’s opaque argument, Voegelin’s concept was never intended as some “gotcha” soundbite for conservatives to use against liberals. Voegelin’s concern with immanentizing the eschaton was part of his broader and lifelong project to better understand the intersections of history, politics, and religion.

What can we do in our own time to not immanentize the eschaton?

Christians must make a clear and unequivocal distinction between the historic Christian faith and the misleading political religion that is more pervasive on the right that anyone seemed to realize. We should start by heeding conservatives’ longstanding warnings about immanentizing the eschaton. Then, I suggest the following strategies.

1. Speak truth. “Within this eschatological view of politics,” John Jalsevac explains, “truth claims are no longer approached as facts to be adjudicated by applying old-fashioned rules of logic and evidence, but rather as tests of loyalty—spiritual loyalty.” Mass media targeting specific audiences magnify this problem, allowing each side to marshal their sources, contributing to further entrenchment. Finding a way out of this environment is daunting, but it starts with telling the truth. Truth has inherent power; the more truth is spoken, the easier it becomes to speak. Perhaps no one grasped this better than Eastern bloc dissidents like Aleksandr Solzenhitsyn and Vaclav Havel, who were sustained through their long nights of suffering under Communist regimes by the conviction that living in truth is never in vain.

2. Stop demonizing others. The apocalyptic politics of an immanentized eschaton divides people into sheep or goats, children of light or children of darkness—actual language that was heard at the rally-turned-riot. “If only it were so simple!” cried Solzenhitsyn from behind the Gulag’s barbed-wire: “If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

3. Demote politics. When people find their core identity and ultimate purpose in politics, no one really wins. Politics turns into a Nietzschean battle for survival. Historically, Christians have recognized the subsidiarity of politics and the primacy of other, more foundational aspects of human flourishing: family, community, and church. Demoting politics to a secondary position can help us recover individual responsibility and vibrant personal agency—and the meaning found in these more basic aspects of the human experience.

The American Enterprise Institute's Ruy Teixeira has two important pieces recently.

At UnHerd, he looks at "Joe Biden's False Optimism." Despite some legislative wins and  favorable turns of events on the world stage, it's not all sweetness and light for the president. Those pesky cultural issues, which Trumpists screech about in the most boneheaded manner, are real, of concern to a lot of voters, and are not going away.

At his Substack, he concludes his three part series entitled "From Environmentalism to Climate Catastrophism." I'd encourage you to read parts one and two as well. He traces the arc of that devolution over the past several decades. He arrives at a conclusion similar to the one he expresses in the above piece. Democrats are going to have to ignore the alarmists and get on board with solutions that acknowledge that normal-people energy forms - oil, coal and natural gas - will unavoidably be the big players in the mix for the foreseeable future.

Nicholas Goldberg, writing at the Los Angeles Times, says if Gavin Newsom is seriously considering a run at the presidency, he's going to have to come up with a career narrative that sidelines his obviously privileged background:

The story he’s been stuck with is neither uplifting nor, to use the popular phrase, relatable.

So he’s out to fix it. Which is probably why he’s getting more personal, telling more anecdotes and trying to recast himself as someone who faced and overcame obstacles in his day.

“A child of divorce and dyslexia, trying to find my bearings” is how he described himself at age 10 or 11 in his unusually personal inaugural addressearlier this month. He described his mom, juggling three jobs. The difficulties he faced in school.

“I couldn’t read, and I was looking for any way to ditch classes,” Newsom said. “I’d fake stomach aches and dizziness. I’d bite down on the thermometer in the nurse’s office trying to make the temperature rise past 100.”

The emphasis on family history and personal challenges was “a departure from past speeches,” reported The Times.

Newsom described how his great-great-grandparents came from County Cork “during the first years of California’s statehood.” The first William Newsom, he said, was a working-class Irish immigrant who became a San Francisco beat cop.

I'm not saying it's not all true. No doubt it is. But it certainly appears to be part of a search for a compelling, curated back story that suggests not everything came so easily — one that humanizes him and normalizes him for voters. If he does eventually decide to run for president, expect his stump-speech bio to be rehashed in a campaign autobiography that lays it all out on the printed page.

“What’s the first thing you need to do when you’re running for president or thinking about it? You tell your story,” Katie Merrill, a Democratic political strategist, told The Times.

(Expect to read less in that book about the affair he had with his campaign manager’s wife when he was mayor of San Francisco and how he sought treatment for alcohol abuse. That’s not the kind of overcoming-adversity story voters are looking for.)

By the way, I’m not blaming Newsom for any of this. Personal narratives are an age-old part of politics.

Why do voters crave them? Partly because overcoming obstacles in life is honestly admirable. But also because humans respond to stories more than they do to policies, statistics, polemics, resumes or canned rhetoric. And because we all love a Horatio Alger, up-from-humble-beginnings tale.

Finally, I have a few essays of my own to steer you to. At Precipice, my latest is entitled "The Deadly Idea That It's a Done Deal: Have We Validated Nietzche's Assertion That 'God Is Dead, and We Killed Him"?

My latest two at Ordinary Times are "Notes on the Delicious Art of Arguing" and a eulogy to Jeff Beck.