Letting Go

Wednesday, 12-16-2015

Some people hang onto bitterness because of malice toward others, toward God, or toward themselves.  Others hang on long after the original impetus is spent because there is a morose pleasure in sucking at dregs.

But there are yet others who hang onto bitterness because they think letting go would betray some cossetted conviction.  Recently I read of a novelist who perished in rancor just because he thought most of the world to be morons.

Someone of that sort might think that to let go of his acrimony he would have to close his eyes, deny the truth, pretend not to see that they were morons.  That might have seemed to him a coward’s way out.

But he was shirking a greater courage.  A man of greater bravery might have been intrepid enough to love morons even knowing they were morons.  Loving them might have given him the valor to discover that some of them had unsuspected non-moronic qualities which were different than his own.  Ultimately he might have gathered the fortitude to face what was moronic in himself; perhaps, were it possible, to overcome it.

 

The Moral Case for Manners

Tuesday, 12-15-2015

The Moral Case for Manners

To see the dancers in motion, click here

A man who cannot keep an appointment is not fit even to fight a duel.  --  G.K. Chesterton

I published the following article in The National Review in 1995, during the Clinton Administration.  Considering how the tendencies I described have not only accelerated since then but even been applauded on both the left and the right, I thought it might be timely to re-post it here.  I have resisted the temptation to update the references.

+++++  +  +++++

Good manners seem to be taking it in the chops lately.  Consider only rudeness.  College students blatantly read newspapers in class.  Columnists in these newspapers call the First Daughter ugly.  The President calls Rush Limbaugh fat.  Rush Limbaugh defends a liberal for calling women broads.  Women give men dirty looks for opening doors.  Panhandlers gather around the doors to insult passersby.  Passersby sport T-shirts insulting panhandlers.  Auto bumpers sport stickers telling other drivers what they can eat if they don't like how the owner is driving.  Drivers steal parking places from other drivers.  The other drivers make crude gestures because they are trying to get to their assertiveness training class.  The class starts late because the teacher is never on time.

Discourtesy, ingratitude, boorishness, and indecorum are now so much expected in public life that one begins to make sport of them.  At any televised awards ceremony, odds are good that one of the following things will happen:  One of the recipients will abuse the presenters; one of the presenters will abuse the recipient; either a presenter or a recipient will abuse third parties not present; or the proceedings will be disrupted by demonstrators.  Place your bets.

Could the decline of good manners be a sign of progress?  Some people think so:

The ultimate value is authenticity, but good manners are inherently inauthentic.  Only a hypocrite feigns what he does not feel.  Don't I have to be me?

The ultimate value is equality, but good manners are inherently inegalitarian.  Only a fool defers slavishly to age, authority, or the female sex.  Aren't I as good as you?

Good manners make a fetish of the form of conduct while ignoring its goal.  Sometimes a speaker should be shouted down without a hearing, and sometime he shouldn't.  Doesn't it all depend on whose ox is being gored?

Bad manners are a way of blowing off steam.  They give people a way to settle their scores without resorting to violence.  Repression merely invites a bigger explosion later.  Isn't a rude word or a slammed door better than a punch in the head?

Finally there is the argument I call, with apologies to the Vatican, the "preferential option for the poor":

Demanding good manners is merely a way of keeping down the disadvantaged.  They can't join your mannerly debates because they haven't got the education.  To ban the use of shouting, vandalism and obscenity is to ban their only way of getting your attention.  Aren't you really telling them, "Shut up?"

Although the preceding arguments come from the cultural left, the assault on courtesy finds echoes on the right as well.  Consider an example.  The fall of chivalric or gentlemanly courtesy has had the predictable consequence of weakening men's sense that women are to be protected instead of preyed upon.  Unable to recognize the true sources of the problem, feminists now make it worse by defining men as predators:  Marriage is slavery, intercourse is rape, courtesy subordinates, compliment is sexual harassment, accusation is presumptive evidence of guilt, and so on.  Sometimes, in satirizing these fanatics, we miss an opportunity to rake up the embers of the older ideal.  In order to reestablish the propriety of appreciating female beauty, for instance, the most talented rhetorician in conservative ranks humorously calls attractive women "babes" and pretends to transmit "mental orgasms" to them.  As intended, this outrages feminists.  But it also outrages ladies.  If I were privileged to advise Mr. Limbaugh, I might speak to him as follows.  A lady does not, like a feminist, expect us men to cut off our organs of generation.  But she rightly expects us not to speak as though our organs were always erect.  By an in-your-face defense of conduct that violates the code of gentlemanly courtesy, we merely deepen its disrepute.  We lose sight of the same thing that the feminists do.

For these and many other reasons we find that courtesy and good manners need more than teaching and reinforcement today.  They need an intellectual defense.  If we cannot make a moral case for manners, we had better give them up.  Has the exercise any point?  I think so.  Obviously, some people are beyond reaching, but most do not fit in this category.  Some of the young have good intentions, but are baffled by the culture and are trying to figure things out.  Some of the grown have figured things out already, but could use a reminder.  Some of the rest of us need answers for barbarian colleagues who demand reasons for what ought to be obvious.  And some of us simply need to have our spines stiffened before we face our children.  Why must I write Grandma a thank-you letter?  She knows I got the present, and I didn't like it anyway.  You don't want me to lie, do you?

In brief, then, here is what might be called the theory of manners, which is part of the applied theory of virtue.

Becoming better than we are.  Good manners are a species of custom.  Courtesy is the virtue that concerns them.  This virtue finds its initial place in a world in which people are flawed in virtue generally, but would like to be better than they are.  For courtesy has two interesting properties.  One is that because it has more help from custom, it requires less exertion of judgment than some of the other virtues and is therefore easier to learn.  The other is that up to a point, it pulls some of the others along.  It incubates them, providing a protected environment in which they can grow.

The sincerity of pretense.  Here is how this incubation works.  As I am now, I want what I ought not want, and I do not want what I ought to.  My feelings are at war with the person I want to be.  One of the things I do about this is wear a mask, just as beautiful as I can make it.  Masks, of course, can be used to deceive, but in courtesy that is not the aim.  As C.S. Lewis, Gilbert Meilander, and others have explained, I wear the mask partly in the hope that my true face will gradually grow to fit it, and partly in the hope of not setting a bad example in the meantime.  "If you please," "thank you," and "the pleasure is mine" may be mere formulae, but they rehearse the humility, gratitude, and by grace, even charity, that I know I ought to feel and cannot yet.

Playing along.  Good manners concern not only my mask, but yours.  Though I may not have sense or self-knowledge enough to recognize all of the bad habits by which I make life unnecessarily difficult for you, even a well-meaning clod knows some of the counsels of courtesy because they are taught to him by custom.  I should not be late for my appointments; that risks provoking you and making your mask slip.  If you are my customer, I should not use your first name as though you were my fishing buddy; we need to remember which masks we are wearing because differences in station dictate differences in duties.  If I am a woman, I should not wear a party dress to work; that is both confusing and provoking, because the ambiguity annoys.  Out of context it seems to be a come-on.  Can one wear two masks at once?

The golden mean.  Even with the help of custom, some judgment is necessary to the practice of courtesy, because customs are rules that work only in most cases, and there are always exceptions.  Thus, more than just a habit of following good manners, courtesy is a developed ability to adapt them wisely to place and time in a way that preserves their intention.  In this it resembles the other virtues.  As courage finds the mean between the cowardly and the rash, friendliness finds it between the cool and the codependent, and tolerance finds it between the narrow and the overindulgent, so courtesy avoids two opposite mistakes:  On the one side rigidity of manners, on the other side carelessness.

Celebration.  All this talk of avoiding opposite vices may seem depressing.  But we need not be somber about courtesy.  Really well done, good manners not only rehearse the ideal of virtue but anticipate and celebrate it, much the same as ballroom dancing celebrates the ideal of marriage.  In both there is a playful, shifting counterpoint of speech and movement in always mutual, yet always asymmetrical submission.  "May I?"  "Please go on."  "Shall we?"  "By all means."  Step, step, step, turn.  Among the saints, rehearsal would be nothing, celebration everything; courtesy would be a mode of frolic sanctity.  There is a glimpse of that in every courteous smile.

So armed, can we reply to the debunkers?  Yes:  Not necessarily to their satisfaction, but at least to ours.

As to the argument that good manners are inauthentic:  There are two mistakes here.  The small one is that every kind of mask is meant to deceive, and we have already seen why that is false.  Behind this small error is the larger one of thinking that being myself is a thing of great value.  In fact it has hardly a value at all.  Only by losing my life will I save it; only by forgetting about being myself will I find out who I was meant to be.  It will be objected that this is a religious answer.  That I cannot help; it happens to be true.  Anyway, Authenticity is a religion too.  It is just not a particularly attractive one.

As to the argument that good manners are inegalitarian:  So they are, root and branch.  And there is a grain of merit in thinking this smells fishy.  Humility is necessary for everyone, because we share in both the dignity of being made in God's image and the shame of not acting like it.  Here the equality of grace might begin; but here the equality of nature ends.  We do not all have the same strengths, weaknesses, experiences, or stations.  By pretending that we do, we lose the only ground on which we can support or make claims on one another.  One cannot build an arch from identical bricks.

As to the argument that manners depend on whose ox is being gored:  At least the debunker is right in one point.  Not only in arms but in ideology, there is a time for war and a time for peace.  But if we are to speak of war, let us speak of Just War:  There must be justice not only in the cause, but also in the way of waging it.  Adapted to ideological warfare, the principles for waging war justly are as follows.  First is right intention.  The aim of those who war for truth should be agreement in the truth; therefore, they should avoid any acts that would hinder ultimate conversion.  Second is proportionality.  Combatants should avoid tactics that do more harm to truth in general than good to the particular truth that is at issue; therefore, they should use no force but the force of better argument.  Third is discrimination.  Deliberate attacks on non-combatants are impermissible; therefore, not only the speakers but the audience should be respected.

As to the argument that discourtesy blows off steam:  This line of reasoning works no better in the debate over manners than in the debate over pornography, for one bad deed may be catharsis, but a series of bad deeds is merely practice.  The only way that slamming a door blows off my wrath is by indulging it.  By failing to practice self-control I grow less and less able to exert it.  Instead of growing to fit a beautiful mask, my face freezes in the expression of hell.

As to the "preferential option for the poor":  No point that requires shouting, vandalism, or obscenity for its expression is worth hearing.  If the poor really lack the education to get one's attention without such means, truer justice would be to educate them.  Does the debunker believe they are incapable of education, or does he believe they are incapable of courtesy?  Which side here shows them greater respect?

One hears that people today have bad manners because they are too wrapped up in seeking what is good for themselves.  I don't think they care too much about the Good; I think they care too little.  Bodily and external goods are nearly worthless without the goods of character, for then, once our comfort has been secured, the rest of our lives is blown away in spume and eaten up in vexation.  I said before that courtesy finds its initial place in a world in which people are flawed in virtue generally, but would like to be better than they are.  The dance of courtesy is interesting only to those who have discovered the romance of virtue.

 

Sins of the Fathers

Monday, 12-14-2015

Monday, as always, is letter day.

Question:

I have questions about the Catholic Church, but I want to talk with someone that acknowledges my own conflicted views, and that does not seek to treat me like an idiot, or wicked for denying self-evident truths.  I want you to explain to me the (at times) total disconnect between lofty ideals and wicked deeds.  I want to be able to say how those wicked deeds color my understanding of the theory, and to be given a better explanation than “look at those other things.”

Let me start by saying in my birth country in Latin America, at least some bishops went to bed with dogs, and were shocked that people did not trust them because they were covered with fleas.  And because of the coverup.

You see why I have a problem with the Church, and why I have trouble believing that words like yours are for real?

Reply:

You point out that from time to time in history, some Church officials have supported tyrants and atrocities and others have covered them up.  This is true.

It would be a devastating refutation of the Church’s claims if the Church taught that such things could never happen, but what the Church actually teaches is just the opposite.  Holy Scripture warns that from time to time evil shepherds will get in among the flock, and tells people to avoid them.

The Church has also confessed publically that at various times in history representatives of the Church have sinned gravely.  There have been bad priests, bad bishops, and even bad popes.  Pope Paul VI remarked that as though through some fissure, the smoke of Satan enters the temple of God.

God does not promise that hell will never subvert anyone.  What He promises is that the gates of hell will not prevail.  God, who cannot be defeated, will preserve the Church and its work of salvation, despite the sins and follies of some of the people who speak in her name.

 

Beyond Argument

Sunday, 12-13-2015

Some things must be placed beyond argument; disputation can never make progress unless there are some things that we no longer need to dispute.  In logic, for example, denying the law of non-contradiction is beyond the pale, or ought to be; in ethics, denying the Holocaust or defending the bayonetting of infants; in Christian theology, rejecting the Resurrection.

But by what authority are we to decide which things are beyond argument?  Notice that I said “authority,” not “power.”  I am not proposing that anyone should be coerced to accept such authority.  I am merely pointing out its indispensability.  The progress of reason itself requires authority.  For it is all very well to say that we should reach the decision about which things are beyond argument by argument, but by what authority are we to say that the argument has reached a conclusion? 

Secularists answer the question, “By human authority.”  Thus we have politically shaped conformity.  Or else they say “By no authority,” which effectively means either anarchy (which doesn’t last) or socially shaped conformity.

Protestants answer, “By the authority of the Holy Spirit,” understood as operating either through each individual (which effectively means by no authority -- see above) or through the sundry religious teachers, congregations, or denominations to which individuals adhere (which effectively means by human authority – see above).  So in practice the Protestant and Secularist solutions embody the same alternatives.  They are in this respect indistinguishable.

Some things must be placed beyond argument; disputation can never make progress unless there are some things that we no longer need to dispute.  In logic, for example, denying the law of non-contradiction is beyond the pale, or ought to be; in ethics, denying the Holocaust or defending the bayonetting of infants; in Christian theology, rejecting the Resurrection.

But by what authority are we to decide which things are beyond argument?  Notice that I said “authority,” not “power.”  I am not proposing that anyone should be coerced to accept such authority.  I am merely pointing out its indispensability.  The progress of reason itself requires authority.  For it is all very well to say that we should reach the decision about which things are beyond argument by argument, but by what authority are we to say that the argument has reached a conclusion? 

Secularists answer the question, “By human authority.”  Thus we have politically shaped conformity.  Or else they say “By no authority,” which effectively means either anarchy (which doesn’t last) or socially shaped conformity.

Protestants answer, “By the authority of the Holy Spirit,” understood as operating either through each individual (which effectively means by no authority -- see above) or through the sundry religious teachers, congregations, or denominations to which individuals adhere (which effectively means by human authority – see above).  So in practice the Protestant and Secularist solutions embody the same alternatives.  They are in this respect indistinguishable.

Catholics answer, “By the authority of Holy Spirit,” understood as operating through the Church founded by Christ.  This solution is distinct from the other two only if the Church is correct about what she actually is, which of course Protestants and Secularists deny.

Is she?  We are not answering the question today.  But this is the crux of the matter.

 

Things That Ought to Be Obvious, Nos. MCCCLIX-MCCCLXI

Saturday, 12-12-2015

MCCCLIX.  We tend to fall in love with people we spend time with.  Therefore, decide whether she might be a suitable person to fall in love with before deciding to spend time with her, not after.

MCCCLX.  She is suitable to fall in love with if she is good person to marry and raise a family with.

MCCCLXI.  She is a good person to marry and raise a family with if she is a prudent and virtuous person, loves and is wise about children, and could faithfully love you too.

Women, change “she” and “her” to “he” and “him.”  Everything else is the same.

 

So Full of Saints

Friday, 12-11-2015

The other day I happened to reflect on what a good man a certain friend is.

Such a delight it is, such a refreshment of spirit to think of such persons.  Virtue is in decline, yet the world is full of saints.

 

These Days She Would Have Said Cool

Thursday, 12-10-2015

The conversation took place years ago, but it made quite a dent in my memory.

A:  “I love think her theology.  I think it’s so neat.”  B:  “Do you mean you think it’s true?”  A:  “Who cares?  I’m just saying it’s neat.”

Chesterton remarks, “Pride consists in a man making his personality the only test, instead of making truth the test.  The sceptic feels himself too large to measure life by the largest things; and ends by measuring it by the smallest thing of all.”