Austin Hall Library

On the Nightstand

A quick glimpse at several of the books I am currently in the process of reading:

Why Matter Matters: Philosophical and Scriptural Reflections on the Sacraments by David P. Lang. Is it really important that the wine we use for Communion be made only of grapes? Why not use corn oil to anoint the sick instead of olive oil? An insightful book dealing with an important subject--material substances as means of grace.

I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher's Guide to Wine by Roger Scruton. This may be Scruton's most enjoyable work to read. He skillfully and humorously argues that wine, drunk in the right frame of mind, is good for the soul.

Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl. Confined for five years in Auschwitz and other Nazi concentration camps, Frankl movingly argues that man's greatest needs in life are not material, but rather finding meaning and purpose in life.

The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy. The second book in McCarthy's Border Trilogy, this book is sort of a "coming of age" story written in McCarthy's customary western-gothic style.

The Nature of Law

The most important books are often the least well known. That is certainly true of Thomas E. Davitt's, The Nature of Law, which at first glance seems to be a misnomer. This excellent book is a detailed historical and philosophical study of the major thinkers who addressed the problem of the nature of law from the point of view either of the primacy of the will or the primacy of the intellect. 

While this brief summary may cause the eyes of most who read this post to glaze over, there may be no other legal issue more far-reaching in society today. In short, how one sees law--from the point of view of the primacy of the will or the primacy of intellect--determines whether one is a positivist or whether one embraces the natural law tradition.

To the positivist, all that is necessary for a law to be legitimate is that it be posited (enacted) by a proper authority. Obligation is the principal intrinsic effect of law. Thus, there is never a necessary connection between law and morality. The contrary view is that law is an act of the intellect and, thus, laws oblige in conscience because they simply specify means that lead to an end that man, by his very nature, is already obliged to work toward. In this view, for a law to be legitimate it must always be moral in its end and in its means. Therefore, there is always a necessary connection between law and morality.

Admittedly, this whole discussion is somewhat complex and rooted in a philosophical argument seldom considered these days. But its effect can be made concrete with a couple of questions. Are laws legitimate simply because an authority wills (by enacting a law) to oblige those under it to this or that? Or, is an authority responsible to enact laws that are moral in their ends and their means in order to oblige those under it to this or that? These are likely the most important, and ultimately the most practical, questions in law today. And, Davitt's outstanding historical and philosophical work, The Nature of Law, is perhaps the most comprehensive introduction to the subject. Unfortunately, I believe it is out-of-print and must be secured on the secondary market.

One final note. Beware, those who take the view that by the very fact that God wills it, an act (or law) becomes good and just. This was the view of William Ockham, who said: "Hatred of God, stealing, committing adultery, are forbidden by God. But they could be ordered by God; and, if they were, they would be meritorious acts." At its root, and in principle, this view is no less positivist, and no less destructive, than the view that the will of the State is the source of obligation . If Ockham could see where his views have taken us, he might have seen the issue of primacy of the will or primacy of the intellect differently.

The Judgment of the Nations

The news these days of involvement in yet another American war has had a sobering effect on me. 

Notwithstanding the avowed end, war always tends to the deterioration of cultural standards. As Christopher Dawson acknowledged, it cannot be otherwise, "when all the power and resources of the modern state are organized for human destruction." He noted, the temptation to "howl with the wolves" is so overwhelmingly strong in war, since the only thing that will curb the focus of disorder is "mastering them [the enemy] by a violent effort of disciplined will." War, as a state of organized violence, is by its very nature opposed to the ideals of the moral virtues in a civilized culture. While it is true that there are things worse than war, and however necessary it may be in certain limited circumstances, it is nevertheless a great evil as a destructive element in society.

These are ideas underscored by Dawson in his brilliant The Judgment of the Nations, written in 1942. If he is right, America need not be concerned these days only with strained resources and the loss of lives. She should also be concerned with further thinning her cultural fabric, and further loosening her moral restraints.

Dawson’s great erudition, his command of history, and his profound understanding of human nature are evident in The Judgment of the Nations--an attempt to “bring civilization “back to the right road” by cultivating the spiritual foundations of society at an individual level. An omnivorous reader and gifted historian, after becoming acquainted with the work of Ernest Troeltsch in the early 20^th century, Dawson thereafter devoted himself entirely to the study of the relationship between religion and culture. A prolific author, he wrote numerous works, when taken together, are an attempt at nothing less than a world history. Like no other before or since, he convincingly argues that only a return to the traditions of historic Christianity will save civilization, for culture, having lost its spiritual roots, is dying.

Interior Freedom

"We are not always masters of the unfolding of our lives, but we can always be masters of the meaning we give them."

How does one deal with a life one did not choose? Reading Jacques Philippe's masterful Interior Freedom is a good place to start, especially his chapter titled "Consenting to the Life You Did Not Choose."

"The highest and most fruitful form of human freedom is found in accepting, even more than in dominating. We show the greatness of our freedom when we transform reality, but still more when we accept it trustingly as it is given to us day after day."

This is a book that should be read slowly, reflectively and more than once. Interior Freedom is illuminating by itself, but when followed by Trustful Surrender to Divine Providence and Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence, one has the the ingredients for a proper realism in life. Take these three books and get away for a week-long silent retreat and see if you don't agree.

St. Thomas Aquinas Made Plain

Occasionally, there comes along a book so unexpectedly rich and deep that it simply cannot be read except in small sections and with much reflection on its contents. My Way of Life: Pocket Edition of St. Thomas--The Summa Simplified for Everyone is just such a book. I ran across this little-known work hidden away in a used bookstore in Virginia last summer, and I have found it a magnificent simplification of St. Thomas' Summa. Moreover, I have found it a powerful aid to the spiritual and moral life when combined with frequent reflection and meditation on the simple truths contained therein.

The beauty of this little book, in addition to the profound thoughts of St. Thomas it captures, is the outstanding writing of its two authors. Part I is the work of the distinguished Thomist scholar, Walter Farrell, O.P., who died after its completion. Parts II and III were written by Martin J. Healy, former Professor of Dogmatic Theology at the Seminary of the Immaculate Conception in New York. Both authors relate in clear and easily understandable terms the weighty thoughts of St. Thomas, which is no small task.

I cannot recommend highly enough this virtual handbook for living. Farrell's first two chapters (Part I) on "The One God" and "Knowledge and Love of God" are a stunning introduction to the places this book will take you. And, the section (Chapter V of Pt. IIa) on "Happiness and the Passions" made me dizzy with its depth, complexity and profundity. Healy writes: "The passions are all ordered, whether directly or indirectly, to the good of man. If they lead a man to evil, whether physical or moral, it will be due to some defect in man's perception of what is good or evil for him or to some defect in his will which leads him to choose what is physically or morally evil." The chapter (V of Pt. IIb) , "Justice: Happiness in Society", ought to be required reading in American law schools (but don't hold your breath).

Clearly, My Way of Life is Catholic in its theology, particularly Part III, but much within its pages would be profitable to all people of good will. "Unless the mind of a man is nourished on truth, his heart is shrunken and starved . . . Our hearts can be aflame only with the fuel offered by our minds." (pp. 24-25). This book will nourish the mind and set the heart aflame.

The Fate of Reading in an Electronic Age

I ordered and read Sven Birkerts', The Gutenberg Elegies: The Fate of Reading in an Electronic Age, when I ran across the following quote in Morris Berman's The Twilight of American Culture: "Language is the soul's ozone layer, and we thin it at our peril."

In short, Birkerts believes that the growth of the electronic age will result in the erosion of language and the use of critical thinking skills. Initially published in 1994, certain of the author's concerns are now fulfilled prophecy. This book should be read with Neil Postman's Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology, which is a classic on the cultural impact when technology is deified, meaning "the culture seeks its authorization in technology, finds its satisfactions in technology, and takes its orders from technology."

From Birkerts: "A change is upon us--nothing could be clearer. The printed word is part of a vestigial order that we are moving away from--by choice and by societal compulsion. I'm not just talking about disaffected academics either. This shift is happening throughout our culture, away from the patterns and habits of the printed page and toward a new world distinguished by its reliance on electronic communications." From Postman:"Technopoly (when new technologies come to alter the things we think about) eliminates alternatives to itself in precisely the way Aldous Huxley outlined in Brave New World. It does not make them illegal. It does not make them immoral. It does not even make them unpopular. It makes them invisible and therefore irrelevant.  And it does so by redefining what we mean by religion, by art, by family, by politics, by history, by truth, by privacy, by intelligence, so that our definitions fit its new requirements. Technopoly, in other  words, is totalitarian technocracy."

I found Birkerts insightful and virtually prophetic, given the early date of his initial publication. The first half of the book was difficult to put down and the last half was difficult to finish (it was dry and technical), but the author is on to something important for the future of our culture. "If a person turns from print--finding it too slow, too hard, irrelevant to the excitements of the present--then what happens to that person's sense of culture and continuity?"

No Story for the Faint of Heart

I seldom listen to audiobooks, but I dropped by the local library on my way out of town for a recent business trip and selected Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men. I posted briefly on the book and McCarthy's work here a couple of years ago.

I must admit that the audio version was as mesmerizing as the print and the movie versions of the story. McCarthy is a master storyteller and the narrator did a fine job--sounding very much like the characters in the movie version. I finished the audiobook on the trip and it made my drive seem much shorter. I previously noted McCarthy's intense style, but this story is hauntingly gripping in a way none of his other works can match. But, it's not for the faint of heart.

Gentle Regrets

Inspired by T.S. Eliot, Roger Scruton is quite simply my favorite modern traditionalist. His autobiographical book of essays, Gentle Regrets: Thoughts from a Life, is a nothing less than beautiful introduction to his thoughts, beliefs, and the things that shaped his life.

Scruton, a rare conservative British philosopher, is a writer whose style ranges from polemical to poetic, and he is one of the last true Renaissance men. In Gentle Regrets alone he writes elegantly about Burkean conservatism, the soulless condition of modern architecture, music in general and opera in particular, the philosophical relationship between men and their animals, and the need for individuals to recover religious faith. The book evoked in me longings for the true, the good, and the beautiful like no other book has since I read George Weigel's Letters to a Young Catholic.   

Perhaps the thing that stands out most for me about Scruton personally is the fact that there is virtually no aspect of life that escapes his philosophical reflection and associations. He is a model of the thinking, reasoning man. And one other thing--he appears immune to the inflated sense of self-importance so prevalent in some of religious faith today. With traditional conservative wit, he says that "the duty of a Christian is not to leave this world a better place. His duty is to leave this world a better man." 

A Terrible Glory

I have long been a reader of the history of the 7th Cavalry and its Western campaigns in the mid to late 19th century. Having lived near the Little Bighorn Battlefield, I have visited it and retraced the path of Custer's last battle on a number of occasions. I never tire of visiting the battlefield and I never tire of reading the latest written accounts of Custer's life and the events of the battle.

I recently stumbled across James Donovan's 2008 book, A Terrible Glory: Custer and the Little Bighorn--The Last Great Battle of the American West. Exhaustively researched and very well written, it is the first book with a fresh interpretation of the battle and the events leading up to it in a very long time. Donovan leaves no stone unturned (the endnotes alone cover 82 pages) and does a credible job of making a case that Custer was made a scapegoat by his direct command following the battle.

There are more technical works about the Battle of the Little Bighorn, but A Terrible Glory is an even-handed and very interesting narrative written from primary sources. It is the best and most comprehensive work I have read on this subject to date.

Another excellent treatment of this subject is Evan S. Connell's, Son of the Morning Star: Custer and the Little Bighorn , which is a delightful read, if somewhat meandering in style. This book was made into a less interesting movie, filmed, in part, a block from my former home in Billings, Montana.

The Twilight of American Culture

"If you have finally had it with CNN and Hollywood and John Grisham and New Age 'spirituality,' then pull up a chair, unplug your phone (beeper, TV, fax machine, computer, etc.), and give me a few hours of your time. I promise to do my best not to entertain you."

These are introductory words by Morris Berman to his provocative book The Twilight of American Culture. I don't recall how I came across the works of Berman, but I have found him an insightful critic of the American postmodern cultural scene. He laments that "like ancient Rome [American culture] is drifting into an increasingly dysfunctional situation", and he locates the cause in the increasing dominance of corporate culture and the global economy. He claims that these have created a corporate and consumer culture that has lost its appreciation for art, beauty, literature, and critical thinking. In response, Berman calls upon serious thinkers to renounce the "fashionable patois of postmodernism" and pursue "Enlightenment values" by becoming "sacred/secular humanist monks."

While Berman is a bit unconventional, is certainly theoretical in his response to the cultural crisis, and overly optimistic about the values of the Enlightenment, he is a serious and gifted cultural critic. I found his analysis of the current corporate climate and consumer mentality utterly compelling. His message that America is like other cultures in that it will decline and, in fact, already has, needs to be broadly heard and understood. 

Unfortunately, Berman's apparent prejudice against forms of conservative religion sporadically tarnishes his work and obscures his vision. That aside, in my opinion Berman may be read most usefully not for his answers to America's cultural crisis, but for his clear analysis of many of the country's current problems.