everyone is a radical now

I’ve recently subscribed to David French’s really good Substack newsletter (named The French Press – kudos to David for such a pun!) He’s the first real conservative writer I’ve added to my daily rotation, unless you consider Andrew Sullivan a conservative (I don’t; he’s much too middle of the road, in a good way.) David wrote this last week a very perceptive post on the extremism of the culture wars that I can’t recommend enough, and that I’ll write a few posts about here. While I certainly don’t see eye to eye with David on the substance of a lot of political issues, I like reading him because temperamentally I think we are so similar – the same way I view Alan Jacobs, another conservative-ish writer who I value greatly. We all hold strong positions, but we do so in an even keeled way – temperamentally conservative, while not necessarily being politically so (at least in my case.)

What really jumped out to me in his piece was his identification of something I have felt myself over the last couple of years: the rise of the conflict between extremism or radicalism and moderation, over and against the classical conflict between left and right. Here is David:

Last month The Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg published a fascinating interview with Israeli prime minister Yair Lapid. The entire interview is worth reading—especially if you have interest in Israeli politics and the prospects for Middle East peace—but two sentences from the prime minister stood out as particularly insightful. “Everybody is stuck in this left-versus-right traditional dynamic,” he said. “But today, all over the world, it’s centrist versus extremist.”

I wanted to stand up and cheer. Now, to be clear, this is a strange position for me. I’ve always been conservative. In the left versus right context, I’ve always considered myself a man of the right—the Reagan right. But when the extremes grow more extreme, and the classical liberal structure of the American republic is under intellectual and legal attack, suddenly I’m an involuntary moderate. 

I identify very strongly with this. Politically, I am a creature of the left. I carry a strong commitment to a class-based, social democratic labor-leftism, and I support policies that advance the interests of the working class and minority groups within a framework of responsive, egalitarian democracy. But, I find myself occupying a place within our current political moment that is more centrist or moderate than I’ve ever been. Just a David finds himself on the outs with what constitutes the right today, I find it hard to identify with the American left in many ways. Not because I’m drifting right, but exactly because I’ve stayed pretty steady in my political commitments and watched the left drift away from me, not further left, but instead in a direction that would be more vertical on a scale of political orientations. Think something like this:

I’m in that green square, near the horizon line but just below it, and about 2/3 of the way left. The mainstream left seems to not have moved much left, but instead just further and further up the scale. Same on the right: the libertarian right is almost non-existent, while the mainstream right has moved very quickly up. In this drift, on the the left and the right, those of who have maintained political commitments- and even more importantly, have refused to be buffeted by the fickle winds of American politics – have been left somewhat homeless. Another way to put this is, mainstream politics no longer shifts along the left-right axis, but instead sees who can go vertical the fastest, and those of us committed to a debate on that left-right axis are largely shouting into the abyss.

Here is David on his view of being left behind (sorry for the long quote, but its all so crucial to argument I’m making here):

So, for example, I’m a person who believes in the traditional Christian doctrines of marriage and sexual morality. I don’t believe in sex outside of marriage between a man and a woman. I don’t agree that trans men are “men” or that trans women are “women,” and while I strive to treat every person I encounter with dignity and respect, I don’t use preferred pronouns because their use is a form of assent to a system of belief to which I don’t subscribe.

That makes me pretty far right, correct? Not when the right gets authoritarian or closes its mind and heart to the legacy of real injustice. I’m apparently the conservative movement’s foremost defender of the civil liberties of drag queens. I’m constantly decried as “woke” in part because I don’t discard all of the relevant insights gained from critical race theory, I strongly oppose efforts to “ban” CRT, and also because I believe in multigenerational institutional responsibility to ameliorate the enduring harm caused by centuries of racial oppression. 

The through line is pretty simple. I’m both a traditionally orthodox Christian and a strong believer in classical liberalism, pluralism, and legal equality. I’m a believer in those political values because I’m a traditionally orthodox Christian. I want to create and sustain the kind of republic that was envisioned by George Washington at his best, a place where “Everyone will sit under their own vine and under their own fig tree, and no one will make them afraid.” 

I do not want to commandeer the government to “reward friends and punish enemies,” and I do want to protect the fundamental freedoms of even the most strident of my political opponents. This is not because they’ll like me if I do, but because it is just and right to defend the rights of others that I would like to exercise myself. 

Again, I certainly don’t share the specifics of these politics with David, but I share this feeling and this temperamental commitment to liberalism, even if I at times have strong criticisms of the liberal tradition1. Such much of politics today is about owning our enemies on social media, about punishing those with disagree with, and even more so, those who dissent from the orthodoxy of the moment. Its become about using the power of politics and media to control and enforce a vision of the world, not economically, but culturally. I have no problem using the levers of government to craft a more economically egalitarian and fair world; I do have issues with using those levers to force people to believe certain things. For a long time, its been understood by most people that the First Amendment forbids such things; now, that is a decidedly fringe belief, according to the new consensus among the authoritarian left and right. (Just do a search on Twitter for the term “free speech bro” to see what I’m talking about.)

I wanted to highlight this from David’s essay and write this post as a way of laying down a marker about something that has increasingly become an intellectual prior for me at this point: our politics is all extremism and radicalism at this point, and that is a bad thing. I feel left behind by this, and I think a lot of other smart people are too, especially a large contingent of normies who aren’t obsessed with politics and social media culture. Its a new Silent Majority in the making, not built around latent racism and disapproval of the counterculture, but instead around a tendency to shake our heads at all the braying idiots in our cultural arenas and a desire to live our life, for things to make a little more sense, and for our leaders to just try to make the world a little better and easier for everyone to live in. This marker is important for me because its influencing so strongly the things I’m thinking and writing going forward. Consider me a libertarian-leftist-moderate.

1 Those criticisms are theologically rooted, however, not politically. I think in politics, liberalism is about the best we can do right. But it still has shortcomings that a good theological lens brings into view.

do some good, white men

I like this by Freddie deBoer, and I think he is absolutely right:

I understand that a lot of white men feel a little at sea right now and are kind of trying on different personalities in an effort to be cool people. I have a modicum of sympathy! What should white men do, in 2021? Comfortably and unapologetically occupy their space as white men and make conscious decisions to increase justice and reduce suffering in whatever ways they are able. I’d like white men, in other words, to be good people, as all of us have the capacity to be, and to leave the endless impotent posturing about one’s identity to others. If you’re a young white man and you’re trying to navigate evolving social mores, I think that the path forward is blissfully simple: do everything you can to be a good person and do not waste a single moment feeling guilty about being a white man. Such guilt never helped anyone, and besides, your concern is your integrity, and integrity is about choice. You didn’t choose to be white or male, so those things are not relevant to your integrity. Be kind. Be honest. Be gentle. Protect those weaker than you. Tell the truth. And don’t spend a day of your life apologizing for who you are. I promise, you’ll do more good for others that way than you will farming likes and retweets by complaining about white men on Twitter.

We lose a lot of energy and passion by imploring people to spend a lot of time navel gazing, instead of getting out in the world and doing something good. This is especially true of the Church. Many churches, it seems, would rather do the work of meeting together and observing their own shortcomings, and this often takes away from getting out and being the hands and feet of Christ.

Now, this isn’t at all to say that introspection does not have a time or place, nor that we should be completely unaware of the social position our various identities bring to us. But those observations should fuel us to doing some good in the world, not wallowing in our own guilt. Nor should it be used as a way to exclude or marginalize anew, or to excuse oneself from doing Good for others.

The world is probably ending, but I don’t feel too bad about that

One of my pet fascinations/habits over the last year or so has been what you might call “optimistic catastrophizing.” What I mean by this oxymoron is that I have been kind of obsessed with the end of civilization1 and how that might come about and what that would mean for how people live their lives. I have a lot of thoughts around this, and I should probably write more about them.2

Anyways, I don’t necessarily view this end of things with a worried or pessimistic view, beyond my natural concern for the harm that would come to many, many people. The reason I observe things “optimistically” is because I tend to think some sort of “end” to civilization as we understand it today – and have understood it since at least the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, or perhaps even the Enlightenment – is somewhat inevitable, possibly within my lifetime, fairly probable within that of my children. Whether its environmental degradation, massive political unrest, permanent economic disruption, or hubristic and fatal technological development (or perhaps a combination of all these things), I do think big, irreversible changes are coming, after which life will look radically different for everyone. This is in terms of social interaction, economic activity, travel, consumption, entertainment: all of it will mostly go away, or at best, become extremely difficult to access and participate in.

But I stay optimistic precisely because I see it as inevitable, and thus something in need of preparation for, at least psychologically (I’m not really interested in survivalist/prepper-style hoarding and planning, mostly because I think the idea that one can plan logistically for that kind of thing is really hubristic and misguided). These shifts are coming, and we need to be ready for the day when we can’t simply hop in our car and drive to the local grocery for everything we might want to consume, or click on the television or phone for endless entertainment and distraction. Despair is not helpful, nor is it something Christians are allowed to traffic in. So, I try to stay optimistic, in the sense that tomorrow really is not promised in any way, and each day will bring us struggles and challenges and even tragedy we must confront, that giving up and curling into a ball is not really an option, especially for those of us with children and family and other human beings we love and feel a sense of responsibility for. To reference my post on friendship from yesterday, another demand of human relationship that many people shy away from is that of hope: that is, the hope that no matter how bad things may be, the love and fellowship we have with one another is not dependent on any outside product or construction or value. We can survive it all simply through our attachments to one another and our commitment to mutual care, love and interaction.

All this is a long set up for me to praise this piece by Oliver Burkeman on his fantastic newsletter “The Imperfectionist.”3 Titled “It’s worse than you think”, it is a wonderful piece of writing that successfully pulls off the trick of being terribly pessimistic and oddly uplifting all at the same time. Here is a taste:

Or maybe your issue is feeling anxious about what the future holds, in your life or the world at large. You feel as though you need to engage in constant planning, or reassurance-seeking from others, or some other form of psychological self-defence, in order to cushion yourself from the worst of the uncertainty. But it’s worse than you think! In fact, anything could happen at any moment. The future is always entirely uncertain. And while planning has its uses, it will never do the slightest thing to alter what the spiritual author Robert Saltzman calls your “total vulnerability to events.”

That’s….oddly comforting. You can try to plan for every eventuality. But honestly? Everything is going to go to shit at some point, because we are limited beings and entropy is a fact of the universe and we just can’t foresee every permutation things could take. You could try to plan for it all. But chances are, you’re gonna be wrong. And in the end, we all are fatally wrong at some point.

My optimism arises here (where I think most people would turn to nihilism) because this is a pretty freeing notion, if you think about it. Stop grasping after the future. Live today. Love today. Experience today. You can’t stop the inevitable, and the end is in fact inevitable, whether you like it or not. Yeah, things are gonna hurt at some point. Everything you built may come crashing down. You never know. You can’t predict it, and trying to it a fools errand. So just be. Here is Oliver again:

In short: we can’t ever get free from the limited and vulnerable and uncertain situation in which we find ourselves. But when you grasp that you’ll never get free from it, that’s when you’re finally free in it – free to focus on the hard things, instead of the impossible ones, and to give this somewhat preposterous business of being a human everything you’ve got.

Honestly, I think this is also a radically Christian view of things. Ever heard the phrase “let go, and let God”? Yeah, that’s some cheesy and shitty cultural Christian schlock that’s often used to justify injustice. But there is a kernel of truth in there too. Part of surrendering to Christ is just that: surrendering. Jesus told us: building up a bunch of treasure here is foolishness, because its all going away eventually.

The end is coming sooner or later. Things are falling apart. It really is all probably a lot worse than we imagine it is! But you know what? It always has been. If we all just spent a little more time caring for those around us, and a little less time trying to erect unwieldy, complicated and Babel-esque structures in some Sisyphean effort to stave off the inevitable, things would probably work out for all of us a little bit better in the end.

1 Note the word civilization here, not world. I don’t think the ending of the entire world is something worth worrying over. But the ending of western civilization as we understand it today? Completely within the realm of possibility within my lifetime, I believe.

2 I have a longer piece, centered around a review of the novel Station Eleven, that has been in the works at my newsletter for a while. Perhaps I’ll wrap that up and publish it soon. In the meantime, subscribe to my newsletter!

3 credit to Alan Jacobs for first pointing the way to this piece on his “Snakes and Ladders” newsletter.