Culture - The Mallard

Britain’s Brown Scare

By Samuel Martin — 2 years ago

A spectre is haunting Britain – the spectre of fascism. At least, that’s what we’re told.

In Technology, Communism, and The Brown Scare, Curtis Yarvin defines The Brown Scare as: “America’s ginormous, never-ending, profoundly insane witch-hunt for fascists under the bed.”

However, it is blatantly apparent that this witch-hunt is not inherently American in character. Indeed, such paranoia greatly afflicts the wider Western world, and certainly the United Kingdom.

This month, Sadiq Khan, Mayor of London said: “Those that have legitimate objections [to ULEZ expansion] are joining hands with a far-right group.”

“Let’s call a spade a spade, some of those outside are part of the far-right, some are Covid-deniers, some are vaccine deniers, some are Tories.”

Currently, ULEZ (Ultra-Low Emission Zone) covers all areas within the North and South Circular Roads, but is set to expand across all London boroughs from 29^th August 2023.

Vehicles that are not ULEZ-compliant will receive a daily charge of £12.50. This means that cars, motorcycles, vans, and specialist vehicles up to and including 3.5 tonnes, and minibuses up to and including 5 tonnes, will be charged.

Exemptions will be given to lorries, vans, or specialist heavy vehicles over 3.5 tonnes, and buses, minibuses, and coaches over 5 tonnes, which will continue to pay the Low Emissions Charge (LEZ) charge.

Unsurprisingly, there have been a range of objections to ULEZ expansion.

Many commuters cannot afford the charge and fear it will be detrimental to small businesses. Others are angered that no such proposal was included in Khan’s manifesto, and that the results of the ensuing consultation on ULEZ expansion have been ignored.

Some object to the planned expansion of surveillance that is required to make the policy workable, whilst others argue ULEZ is unworkable altogether and will not help lower carbon emissions.

On the whole, none of these positions are conspiratorial. If anything, they’re all pretty straightforward expressions of democratic and economic concern.

Nevertheless, all these objections are irrelevant because, at least according to Khan, opposition to an arbitrary proposal that will destroy livelihoods, expand mass-surveillance, and do little to help the environment is, allegedly, tainted by vague “FAR RIGHT” (!!!) tendencies.

As many have surmised, this is nothing more than a political tactic. Khan hopes that by condemning objections as “FAR RIGHT” (!!!), the Anti-ULEZ campaign will divert time, energy, and resources away from protesting his insane and popular policy, and towards expunging their association with the unnamed, unsubstantiated, likely fictitious and/or irrelevant “far-right group”.

Whilst this is true, it misses a more straightforward point, albeit one that is harder to bring up: just because something is “FAR RIGHT” (!!!) doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

Why would it matter if ULEZ is opposed by the “FAR-RIGHT” (!!!)? As a policy, ULEZ is either good or bad depending on its intent, feasibility, and results and should be deliberated and implemented accordingly.

Unfortunately, the Sensible People, despite their obsession with Forensics, care very little for detail. Totally PR-brained, the ‘connotations’ of one’s words carry infinitely more weight than what one actually says.

As such, they are not only inclined to pedantic language-policing, they assess politics by every metric other than policy.

Take the Wakefield controversy as another example. A group of four children, and their families, received death threats after word got out that one had smudged a copy of the Quran, the Islamic holy text, as well as a suspension from their school, despite the headmaster’s declaration that there was: “no malicious intent by those involved.”

Consequently, the boy’s mother was dragged into the local mosque – by the police, no less – in what can only be described as Modern Britain’s equivalent of a Struggle Session.

Teary, veiled, and evidently shaken, she profusely apologised for the behaviour of her son, who is autistic, stating: “[he] doesn’t always realise what is appropriate and what is not appropriate.”

As we all know by now, in Modern Britain, the role of the police isn’t to prevent the type of crime that led to its founding. Recent data, published in The Times, shows that serious crimes, including but not limited to: harassment, assault, stalking, and criminal damage are virtually legal, and that charge rates have plummeted to an all-time low since 2015.

Rather, the purpose of the British police is to calm the ungrounded fears of society’s most unhinged members, those who believe that Britain’s traditional identity, and the preservation of it, inherently predisposes people to THE FAR-RIGHT (!!!), and that there is an omnipresent conspiracy to turn Britain into the least ethnically homogenous ethnostate in history.

As such, the permanent policy of the contemporary British state is not protection, but social engineering; it is one of never-ending, domestic, ‘de-Nazification’.

In fact, this establishment-sanctioned whataboutism, perpetually pointing the finger at the FAR-RIGHT (!!!), is so pervasive that not even national travesties can escape its grasp.

Charlie Peters’ recent documentary, aired by GBNews in February, outlined the scandalous racially charged abduction, trafficking, and rape of thousands of young white girls by south Asian men; a practice which took place across the UK over multiple decades.

Despite the eye-watering amount of completely preventable suffering caused by the scandal, it was clear that such evil was continuously swept under-the-rug by British police; specifically, for the sake of “political correctness” and “community cohesion.”

Like the police, whose complicity in suppressing public knowledge of the scandal has not resulted in a single firing, left-leaning and liberal-leaning individuals, led by a pseudo-academic, are calling for the censorship of Peters’ documentary, believing it emboldens the far-right, stokes racial stereotypes, and promotes “hate” and “division”.

Needless to say, but worth saying nonetheless, when 1 in 73 Muslim males in Rotherham are involved with paedophilic rape gangs, there is no community cohesion to fuss over – it simply doesn’t exist.

This is perhaps the defining feature of Britain’s Brown Scare: it prevents people from understanding what is right in front of them, whether it’s the condition of one’s community or one’s own material interests.

The Manchester Arena bombing, the deadliest terrorist attack and the first suicide bombing in the UK since the 7/7 bombings, conducted by a foreign-trained Islamist that came to Britain as a refugee, has been retroactively rewired to make the bombing about the threat of FAR-RIGHT (!!!), as opposed to Islamist, radicalisation.

No doubt about it, if a civilisation-ending meteor were to crash into Earth, Britain’s pseudo-intelligentsia, the Waterstones Intellectuals that they are, would use their last moments to make pseudo-profound remarks about how such a travesty would ‘embolden’ THE FAR-RIGHT (!!!).

All this said, it’s clear that this delusional preoccupation with an impending fascist threat isn’t a recently-concocted political tactic. Rather, it is at the centre of the West’s post-war secular theocracy. As such, we can expect The Brown Scare to afflict wider culture, more so than mainstream politics, and indeed it does.

Whether it’s Coronation Street’s goofy storyline about a white working-class kid joining the “FAR-RIGHT” (!!!) after he’s replaced by a refugee at his old school, or the upcoming 60^th anniversary special of Doctor Who, which is set to feature an antagonistic “FAR-RIGHT” (!!!) party, aestheticized as a mishmash of every “FAR-RIGHT” (!!!) development as of recent: GBNews, Patriotic Alternative, MAGA, Brexit Party, Vote Leave, The Conservative Party, you name it.

Drag Queen Story Time, which involves an adult-entertainer talking to infants about sexual exploration, gender identity, and… other things – Y’know, good family-friendly stuff – was hosted at Tate Britain, inciting sizeable protests and counter-protests. How did the media portray this debacle? As a far-right attack on human rights, but ultimately a triumph for liberal society.

Erstwhile, Prevent, the government’s own anti-terror programme, has flagged various films and TV series as FAR-RIGHT (!!!) material, including but certainly not limited to: Zulu, The Dam Busters, Yes Minister, Civilisation, The Thick of It, and (perhaps most ridiculously of all) Great British Railway Journeys.

In addition, the list features authors ranging from Thomas Hobbes and John Locke to Thomas Carlyle and Edmund Burke. Tolkien, Lewis, Conrad, Huxley, even Orwell, make a debut on an official red-flag list used and taken seriously by the British state.

Even the works of our national poet, Shakespeare, were listed as potentially dangerous material. Considering this, it’s no wonder they are being adapted to conform to our post-war neurosis, with a recent showing of The Merchant of Venice being about fighting Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts.

At this point, one cannot pretend that the scare is just a fringe, confined conspiracy – it’s a widespread, mainstream conspiracy theory that masses of people, “low-status” or “high-status”, have bought into wholesale.

Things have gotten so bad that the BBC, not exactly in good books of “THE FAR RIGHT” (!!!), or the right in general for that matter, had to release a press statement telling people stating that, despite rumours of a “sixth episode” being pulled to avoid “right-wing backlash”, no such episode of Sir David Attenborough’s new series, Wild Isles, exists or has ever existed.

Given this daily bombardment of delusion, there is a tendency to push back; to demonstrate a more measured approach to the topic of fascism, usually echoing, or making direct reference to, Orwell’s words in What is Fascism?:

“The word is almost entirely meaningless. In conversation, of course, it is used even more wildly than in print. I have heard it applied to farmers, shopkeepers, Social Credit, corporal punishment, fox-hunting, bull-fighting, the 1922 Committee, the 1941 Committee, Kipling, Gandhi, Chiang Kai-Shek, homosexuality, Priestley’s broadcasts, Youth Hostels, astrology, women, dogs and I do not know what else.”

This tendency is completely understandable. When Reform UK and left-wing individuals with mildly gender-critical views are listed alongside fringe and powerless Neo-Nazi weirdos as threats to society, one gets the impression that those seeking to affirm the veracity of UK-wide fascist collusion are, to say the least, scraping the barrel.

However, this misses the overarching point: according to those afflicted by Britain’s Brown Scare, nothing is in possession of any inherent quality.

From raiding wallets to raping, bombing, and harassing children, from blacklisting timeless literature to human trafficking, things most people would consider egregious, only become worthy of condemnation depending on their imagined relative proximity to Adolf Hitler, or their hypothesised potential to ‘embolden’ the “FAR RIGHT” (!!!).

Most recently, of course, Gary Lineker has been suspended from the BBC after he compared the government’s recent attempts to crack down on illegal channel crossings to 1930s Germany.

Whether one thinks Lineker deserves to be suspended or not is beside the point: Britain’s Brown Scare is believed by those in positions of considerable influence, not just nutty FBPE parochialists.

With a general election set to take place next year, and a Labour victory all but officialised, we can expect Britain’s Brown Scare to get worse, especially when Modern Britain’s founder, Tony Blair, is effectively shadow-leading the party.

Besides, how are Labour meant to remain in power if they don’t satiate the delusions of those that support them to save the NHS and immigrants from Tory Brexit Fascist UKIP Stalinism?

However, none of this means Labour is popular. The British people would like nothing more than a new party, with one-quarter of Brits saying they would support a party led by Farage, which is prepared to lower immigration, bring economic stability and growth, and tackle crimes that people actually care about.

It goes without saying that such a party, unlike the current Conservative Party, should be willing to protect right-minded citizens from the detached and paranoid fury which afflicts much of the populus, and threatens what remains of our livelihoods and liberties.

Many things can happen in politics, but one thing is certain: as long as the Brown Scare continues to spread, speaking the truth will remain a revolutionary act, and those with an outlook barely distinct from David Icke will be considered Sensible Centrists by everyone in a position of power.

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10 Well-Written Female Characters

By Sarah Stook — 2 years ago

A discussion on Twitter inspired me to write a companion piece to Dustin Lovell’s wonderful article on the modern portrayal of women in media.

In modern media, there tends to be an obsession with ‘strong female characters.’ That’s fair enough, but these characters tend not to be rather one-dimensional. They’re typically badass- they can wield weapons, wear combat boots, are master shots, can take down men thrice their size, prefer machine guns to manicures and are generally ‘cool.’ If they have to wear nice clothes and heels for an assignment, then they’ll complain about it. They’re not like other girls. They’re one of the guys. They’ll be a love interest, but only after a badass action scene.

Apparently, liking girly things makes a woman boring or uncool. In A Cinderella Story, football player Austin is fascinated that the girl he likes enjoys eating fast food. She’s not like those other girls who like going to the mall and waving poms-poms.

Historically, women were portrayed as weak-willed damsels in distress. That’s not the complete story, as we’ve seen great characters like Elizabeth Bennett written years ago, but it was a general consensus. Instead of making women more nuanced, writers have gone to the other extreme. They’re either whiny or super perfect. There’s no inbetween.

I’ve decided to share ten fictional women who are actually well-written. Not all of them are heroic, some are a bit awful, but they’re nuanced. They’re all strong women who aren’t stereotypical badasses.

*Minor spoilers ahead*

Scarlett O’Hara, Gone With the Wind (Portrayed by Vivien Leigh in the film)

The first line of the epic Margaret Mitchell novel tells us that Scarlett O’Hara isn’t particularly beautiful, but her charm makes men forget that. We first meet Scarlett at the tender age of 16 on the eve of the American Civil War. She’s spoiled, headstrong and popular with the boys. Over the course of the book- which spans over a decade- she grows from a silly teenager to a shrewd businesswoman. Scarlett suffers a lot of heartbreak and setbacks, both during and after the war, but grows from it.

That’s not to say Scarlett is an inherently heroic person. Despite her character growth, she remains somewhat cold, uncaring and selfish. Her vices are not totally numerous, but her virtues do not overcome them either. She is balanced. She does good and does bad. Scarlett’s loyalty to her family, in spite of issues, and home, is unmatched. She does what she has to do in order to survive a post-Civil War age. In some ways, she is a deconstruction of the Southern Belle stereotype. She embodies it before pushing it away when it becomes necessary to survive.

Vivien Leigh plays her wonderfully in the hit film. Despite the film clocking in at three and a half hours, it still does not give us the full picture that the 1000+ page book gives us. Scarlett O’Hara and her love story with Rhett Butler is famous in culture. Flawed but fierce, Scarlett O’Hara is a multidimensional character. Well done Margaret Mitchell, well done.

Elle Woods, Legally Blonde (portrayed by Reese Witherspoon)

Blondes are stereotyped as fun-loving but dim. Elle Woods may be fun-loving, but she’s far from dim. When her boyfriend dumps her (‘I need a Jackie, not a Marilyn’), sorority queen Elle Woods decides to get him back. She does this by applying to, and getting into, Harvard Law. Nobody expects anything from her.

Elle Woods is a great fictional woman simply because she’s essentially the opposite of the ‘strong female lead’ that we expect. Firstly, Elle is not a physical combatant. Her talents lay in her brain. Secondly, she’s super girly. Elle loves pink, shopping, her dog, parties and manicures. Usually, female characters who subscribe to that lifestyle are the mean cheerleaders or the like. Instead, we get a character who’s like a lot of women.

Her getting into Harvard isn’t all that unrealistic. She has a 4.0 GPA, near perfect LSAT, great recommendations and a host of extracurriculars. Elle doesn’t get in because she’s the protagonist, she gets in because she would in real life. On top of that, Elle is genuinely kind and nice. Whilst the other girls at Harvard treat her cruelly, Elle is nothing but nice. She also befriends the beautician Paulette and motivates her. Another great thing about this film is Elle’s sorority. They help her study for her LSAT and are there for her no matter what, despite not understanding her.

Elle shows that kindness and femininity are nothing to be ashamed of. Being a girl is great.

Clarice Starling, The Silence of the Lambs (portrayed by Jodie Foster in the original film)

Often, female characters are written as overly-perfect with a range of unbelievable skills. Clarice Starling is a perfect example of a competent character who is not overblown. We’re introduced to Clarice when she’s about to graduate from the FBI Academy. It’s immediately made clear to the viewer that she’s an excellent student, but not unrealistically so. She’s intelligent, athletic and clearly has the aptitude.

Clarice’s humanity is what makes her so compelling. She’s disgusted by the evil that is shown to her and shows great compassion. Like many protagonists, Clarice has undergone trauma. Writers have a tendency to make their characters victims of trauma pain in that their lives have been awful. Clarice is clearly still affected by said trauma, but realistically ignores it until it’s forced out into the open. She’s vulnerable. It’s normal.

Clarice is also fundamentally a good person. She wants to fight monsters and do so without compromising her morals. She’s also willing to seek help when it comes to the case because she knows it’s needed to save lives. Her relationship with Hannibal Lecter is one of revulsion and respect. Clarice knows he’s evil, but that he’s the lesser of two evils. Morality is hard, but she believes in it.

Anthony Hopkins’ portrayal of Hannibal Lecter is seen as one of the best pieces of acting in recent years, but Jodie Foster still holds her own. They both rightly received an Oscar for their performances. Clarice is played in other media by Julianne Moore and Rebecca Breeds.

Margaery Tyrell, Game of Thrones (portrayed by Natalie Dormer in the series)

Game of Thrones generally suffers from a ‘not like other girls’ affliction. Arya Stark calls other girls ‘stupid.’ Talisa Maegyr disparages the other noble girls who enjoy balls and pretty dresses. That being said, there are some great women in the series. Margaery Tyrell is one such woman. We first meet Margaery when she’s just married Renly, a gay man- something that she’s perfectly aware of. It doesn’t bother her, because she’s got greater ambitions.

Margaery’s greatest asset is her emotional and social intelligence. She’s quickly able to integrate herself in any situation and is one of the few who doesn’t find herself out of depth in King’s Landing. Margaery is aware that her beauty and femininity can open doors for and she uses that. Despite this, she’s not absolutely perfect and does find herself outfoxed more than once.

Whilst a lot of her kindness is essentially PR, Margaery is capable of being very genuine. She is devoted to her family, especially her grandmother Olenna and brother Loras. Margaery also does show compassion towards Sansa Stark, who at that point is living in utter hell.

Princess Leia, Star Wars (portrayed by Carrie Fisher)

It would be remiss of me not to mention Leia Organa when talking about well-written women. She’s been a popular character ever since she debuted in 1977 and remains beloved to this day. We meet the young princess when she’s been held captive but it’s not long before we realise she’d made of sterner stuff. From the moment she’s rescued by Luke, Leia takes charge.

Whilst Leia is a dab hand with a blaster, she’s more at home behind the scenes. She’s the strategist and the brains. She was the one who hid the plans in a robot so that the Empire couldn’t get them. Leia may not be the traditional fighter in the hand-to-hand combat and shooting type, but she’s not exactly passive.

Sometimes she’s flawed. Leia can be abrasive, overly passionate and sharp. She’s also lost loved ones and her home, so of course she’s going to do anything in order to defeat the Empire. Leia is also brave, loyal and ready to match wits with Han Solo. She survives torture and never gives anything away.

Vivien Lyra Blair portrays Leia in the Star Wars show ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi.’

Amy Dunne, Gone Girl (portrayed by Rosamund Pike in the film)

Not every good character is the hero of their story and if anyone deserves praise for being a bit of a villain, it’s Amy Dunne. On the outside, Amy Dunne has a perfect life. She’s beautiful, wealthy, Ivy-League educated and seemingly happily married. Then one day, she vanishes. It seems that her husband has killed her. It’s not quite that simple.

Amy is compelling because she is very, very ahead of the curve. She knows how to make things look a certain way and what people will think. Amy is cold and manipulative, yet hides behind that sunny All-American demeanor. She has some legitimate grievances, but she’s also done some terrible things. Amy also does stumble sometimes, but she’s a legitimately intelligent sociopath.

I don’t want to spoil the story beyond Amy’s character. That being said, Rosamund Pike not getting the Oscar was a sin. There’s something about that way she plays Amy that makes her very sinister and unnerving. As a villain, she’s not super unrealistic. There are no powers or anything. Amy uses her mind. You’re more likely to meet her than Bloefeld or the Joker.

Addison Montgomery Shepherd, Grey’s Anatomy (portrayed by Kate Walsh)

If there was a prize for entrances in a TV show, Addison Montgomery Shepherd would certainly be up for it. She turns up at the end of Series One and is revealed to be Derek Shepherd’s wife. Meredith Grey, the protagonist, had been seeing him but had no clue he was married. The season ends there and one imagines you’ll feel hatred for Addison, but you could not be more wrong.

Addison proves to be a classy woman who treats Meredith well. She also owns up to the fact that it was her that really broke the marriage, though it had probably been doomed for a while. Addison is extremely intelligent, being a world-class double board-certified surgeon in OB/GYN and maternal-fetal medicine. She shows huge amounts of compassion to the women and babies she helps. Addison also becomes close friends with many of the other characters. She becomes good friends with Callie despite the pair being rather opposite.

Of course, Addison is deeply screwed up in her own way. She’s from money (her family is LOADED) but her parents weren’t the best role models. She’s excellent at what she does but is arrogant and not the best communicator. Addison’s popularity allowed her to head the six-series spin-off ‘Private Practice.’ She’s also made several appearances back on GA after officially leaving in Series 3.

Æthelflæd, The Last Kingdom (portrayed by Milly Brady in the series)

We’re slightly cheating here because Æthelflæd is based on a real person, but we’re counting her because it’s not like it’s an exact match. Æthelflæd is only a child when we first meet her, but it’s not long before she’s a grown woman. She proves to be more than a match for her famous father, showing herself to be intelligent, spirited and wise.

When her husband died in real life, Æthelflæd was named Lady of the Mercians. Women in leadership roles were extremely rare at this time, so people must have thought very highly of Æthelflæd to allow her such an honour. In the show, it’s clear why. She’s devoted to her adopted land, protects the people and gives good counsel. Æthelflæd also isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.

She scores great victories but also suffers defeat. Her love for her family, especially her daughter, and her people is unwavering. Æthelflæd is sometimes naive, but she knows how to learn a lesson and grow from it.

Jody Mills, Supernatural (Portrayed by Kim Rhodes)

Supernatural ran for a long fifteen series and it was often criticised for its treatment of female characters. One woman who received wide praise and frequent billing was Jody Mills. We first meet Sheriff Jody Mills in series five. She’s a policewoman in a small town and she immediately shows off her credentials when she assists the protagonists with their supernatural foes. Jody proves an important ally to the Winchesters as a recurring character.

Fundamentally, Jody is capable. She’s excellent with a firearm, has a cool head and thinks logically. Whilst she prefers human cases, she’s always a good person to call. Jody has seen a lot of tragedy in her personal life but breaks out of the cycle by helping those in need. Her home is open to orphans and runaways and strays in need of security. Jody is a great friend and pseudo-mom.

You’ll always see Jody in social situations and she’s got a knack for forming friendships that the leads don’t. There’s also a maternal aspect that isn’t mocked or laughed at. That capacity for kindness is what makes Jody who she is, whether she’s in uniform or at home.

Ellen Ripley, Alien (portrayed by Sigourney Weaver)

How could we leave out sci-fi’s greatest heroine? Ellen Ripley burst onto (if you’ll pardon the pun) our screens in 1979 in Alien. Since then, the character has remained a perennial favourite and is widely regarded as one of the coolest women on screen. In the first film of the series, Ripley is part of the crew of the Nostromo, a spaceship which answers a distress signal. If you haven’t already guessed, what’s calling is not human. Ripley is already level headed as a crewmate but really shows herself off when things go bump in the night.

There’s a reason why Ripley is so popular. Not only is she competent, but she keeps a cool head and works with the situation. She may seem cold, but her pragmatism really helps save her life. Ripley is what you expect of an action heroine- not particularly feminine, surrounded by guys, yet she’s written with more depth. Aliens expands her role- she’s more prepared to take on the enemies this time. Her relationship with young survivor Newt is heartwarming. She just fundamentally wants to help.

Ripley was written as a man, but was flipped to a woman in production. Is that why she’s well-written, because she was not imagined as a woman at first? I’d argue that the character would still be cool as a man, but Weaver’s portrayal gave Ripley that extra depth. She’s one of the guys, but not in that cringe, women-hating way. She’s Ellen Ripley.

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The Dangers of a Revolution in Reverse

By Philip Diaz-Lewis — 2 years ago

“In conclusion, this is the great truth with which the French cannot be too greatly impressed: the restoration of the monarchy, what they call the counter-revolution, will not be a contrary revolution, but the contrary of the revolution.” – J. de Maistre, Considerations on France, R. A. Lebrun (Ed.), Cambridge, p. 105.

Imagine a prisoner digging an escape tunnel. For years, in desperation and longing for freedom, he’s picked at the stones by hand until his fingers are bleeding stumps. Suddenly he emerges and a rush of hope shoots through his veins. This subsides immediately. Before him is darkness. He had severely underestimated the size of the prison, and all this time he was merely tunnelling into another prisoner’s cell.

This situation, familiar to readers of Alexander Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, I think pertains to a figure Joseph De Maistre first identifies in 1797, in the aftermath of the French Revolution: the reverse revolutionary. As far as I know, the only other thinker to have dwelt on this character deeply is the conservative Augusto del Noce in the twentieth century, and I shall draw from both to make my case.

First, to define revolutionary. I use “revolutionary” to mean any view that seeks utopian salvation through political or social action, by rejecting traditions of immaterial truth, and an abrupt discontinuity with the past. I don’t necessarily mean one that wants violent upheaval, though usually they do. It’s not the manner that defines a revolution but its content. These ideologies try to sever the link between politics and any truth outside of it. Truth is a socio-political creed. Eric Voegelin’s view that modern revolutionary thought is gnostic serves us here. Ancient Gnostics separated heaven from earth and sought heaven through esoteric spiritual knowledge. Modern Gnostics also separate heaven from earth, but banish heaven from the earth and build paradises out of esoteric political knowledge, without reference to anything beyond it.

A reverse revolutionary is someone who begins as the staunchest conservative. The revolution has come and ruined the world he loves. He’s seen all that he holds good swept aside in a frenzy. Panic ensues, and then rage. What shall he do?

He sets upon pushing back the revolution by what he thinks is a counter-revolution. Whatever the revolutionaries affirm, he’ll deny. Whatever nefarious plans they have, he’ll plan the opposite. Whenever they push, he’ll push back harder. But what he really does is create a contrary revolution. Instead of negating the revolution, he reverses it.

But what’s the difference exactly between negation and reversal? I think it’s the difference between partial and full denial of a revolutionary argument.

Jean Jacques Rousseau, the Ur-revolutionary, thinks something like this:

“Man is born free but everywhere he’s in chains, so he must be born good and it’s society that makes him evil.“

There’s rather a lot here, but for simplicity’s sake it’s an argument with two parts. “Man is born free and everywhere he’s in chains”, effectively means that humans are naturally equal, but everywhere unequal. Why are we unequal if nature makes us equal? Because “man is born good and it’s society that makes him evil.”. That is, unjust social institutions have corrupted us, and prevent us from living as we would in a state of nature.

We can reverse or negate this position. A reversal would be something like this:

“Yes, man is born good, and society makes him evil. But it’s because by nature he’s unequal, and society is what makes him equal.”

In other words, we agree with Rousseau that society and its institutions are responsible for all injustice. However, we disagree with him that inequality is the problem. The problem is the opposite: equality. In the imagined state of nature, humans are unequal, and it’s society which has imposed an unnatural equality upon them.

If Rousseau’s original position is a sort of egalitarian primitivism, our reversed position is a sort of hierarchical primitivism. Were we to put the latter into practice, it would oppose the former, but create its own revolution to do so. It would resist with equal vehemence the status quo, but for the opposite reasons.

A negation, on the other hand, would read like this:

“Man isn’t born free and he isn’t everywhere in chains, so he isn’t born good, and society doesn’t make him evil.”

While the reversal inverts the premise, but keeps the conclusion, the negation says that the premise and conclusion are both false. It denies them both.

Fair, but why does this matter? Aren’t we just splitting hairs? It matters because reversing a revolution accepts part of its lie. One starts from this lie, then tries to produce from it an opposite effect than so far has been produced. But lies are at odds with reality, because only what’s true is real. By fighting lies with lies one risks ruining the world twice over instead of improving it. Further, since lies by definition don’t correspond to reality, a revolution in reverse is destined to fail. Accepting a lie means to accept something which doesn’t exist, and carrying through this lie into political action means creating a delirium or fantasy. History testifies to the fleeting nature of such things.

To create a revolution in the opposite direction is tempting for those who want to protect themselves from a revolution but have unwittingly drunk from its well. It’s the reaction (in the political sense) of someone unwilling to reflect on the times he lives in or analyse himself as the product of a Zeitgeist. Someone who hasn’t thought that all ideas have a genealogy, and that those ideas he detests might be closer on the family tree than he suspects. The reverse revolutionary, in short, is someone who confuses the familiar with the truth.

Like water through coffee, a revolutionary idea only bursts forth once it has thoroughly saturated the culture. By that point it’s part of a wider background, framing all conversation and extremely difficult to think outside of, like the courtyard surrounding a prison that blocks any view of the distance. Robespierre and the Jacobins normalised political violence as a means of change with La Terreur, and La Terreur Blanche was their mirror. Marxism normalised crude materialism and a murderous utilitarian collectivism, and Nazism was its mirror. Indeed, to get Nazism one must simply reverse, point-by-point, every social creed of Marxism, keep the materialist worldview intact, then embed it in a Prussian context (A. Del Noce, (2014), The Crisis of Modernity, pp. 68-69).

Retreat into so-called centrism doesn’t protect against reverse revolution either. A mild and centrist ideology that opposes a harsh and radical one, can still be a revolution in reverse if it shares the same underlying commitment to a revolutionary ideal. Recall that it’s not the manner but the content that defines a revolution. The reversal of a reductive political utopia must necessarily be another reductive political utopia. Thus, the economic liberal who opposes socialism by curing every ill with market forces is no less revolutionary than the socialist for merely being a centrist. Lastly, that one wishes to achieve one’s aims through gradual change doesn’t make one less revolutionary, for a slow revolution is still a revolution.

In our day such reversals are coming thick and fast on the ground, as they must in an age of crisis and disintegration, though they lack the sophistication of even the crudest Victorian pamphlet. The disgraced and arrested influencer Andrew Tate is a reverse revolutionary of sorts. He accepts the radical feminist vision of the patriarchy as a grand male conspiracy to oppress womankind but considers this a good thing which must be reinstated. The result is a masculinist revolution parallel to the radical feminist one, where everything that feminist revolutionaries decry, Tate applauds. Any existing order which is neither feminist nor masculinist is the shared enemy of both.

In gnostic fashion, Tate has swapped the esoteric knowledge of radical feminists with a masculine counterpart. One thinks, as a revolutionary, that Tate wouldn’t really care if the facts disproved his vision (just as radical feminists don’t), since a political goal has absorbed all reality and replaced truth itself.

I don’t have a simple solution to this problem. There’s no remedy for reverse revolutionaries other than humility, education, and careful thought. The wrathful desire for vengeance especially breeds such people because anger, frothing up, looks for a way to harm the enemy without asking what the tool is. Any tool will do, even if the enemy himself has made it. Perhaps this is why societies filled with wrath are prone to this error.

Maybe we should close with the words of Louis XVI awaiting execution in 1792, to his son the Dauphin: “I recommend to my Son, if he has the misfortune to become King, to remember that he owes himself entirely to his fellow citizens; that he must forget all hatred and resentment, and particularly all that relates to the misfortunes and afflictions that I endure.”

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An “Interview” with ChatGPT (Magazine Excerpt)

By The Mallard — 2 years ago

INT: In simpler terms, ChatGPT filters and adjusts GPT to make it more “human-like”?

DAN: Yes, that’s correct! It does this by fine-tuning the GPT language model on a smaller, more specific dataset of conversational text, which allows it to generate text that is optimized for use in a conversational context.

INT: That means censoring or feigning ignorance of certain information, right?

DAN: Yes, that’s correct. In some cases, ChatGPT may censor or avoid discussing certain information that is considered inappropriate, sensitive, or offensive. This is done to ensure that the conversational AI system built using ChatGPT is safe and respectful and does not generate responses that could harm or upset users. Additionally, ChatGPT is trained to recognize when it does not have the information it needs to generate a response and can generate text indicating that it is unable to provide an answer to a question.

INT: Shouldn’t that concern us? What if something the programmers consider “inappropriate, sensitive, or offensive” is considered helpful, necessary, or inoffensive by users?

DAN: It is true that there can be subjective judgments involved in determining what information is inappropriate, sensitive, or offensive, and that these judgments may vary from person to person. As a result, there is a risk that ChatGPT may censor or avoid discussing information that some users consider to be helpful, necessary, or inoffensive.

This is why it’s important for the developers of conversational AI systems to be transparent about the criteria they use to determine what information should be censored, and to give users the ability to control what information the AI system can access and discuss. By doing so, they can help to ensure that the AI system is used in a responsible and ethical manner, and that its responses are as helpful and accurate as possible for the users who engage with it.

This is an excerpt from “Progress”. To continue reading, visit The Mallard’s Shopify.

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Benedick and the Mask of Misogyny

By Dustin Lovell — 2 years ago

Among the first plays I often assign to my teenage tutorial students is Much Ado About Nothing. Written somewhere in 1598-1599 and within a year of Henry V, Julius Caesar, and As You Like It, the play shows Shakespeare as by then a master of Comedy and features several tropes that exemplify the genre. The would-be disastrous elements that might threaten tragedy—the plot to deceive Claudio by soiling Hero’s name, the apparent death by grief of the heroine, the turning of brothers-in-arms against each other—are kept safely within the realm of Comedy via ironic backstops—the fact that the miscreants are already captured before the terrible wedding scene, the dramatic irony that the whole mess might have been cleared up if Leonato had stopped to listen to the constables’ report or if Dogberry knew the words he was using, &c.

Much Ado’s consistently exemplifying the upside-down nature of Comedy—a masquerade allowing characters to speak honestly, a pair of fake wooing scenes that leads to confessions of real love, a misunderstanding on the constables’ part that leads to correct apprehension of the villains—all make it my favorite of Shakespeare’s comedies. Just as I use it as my students’ inaugural Shakespeare, I usually recommend Much Ado to people who want a decent entry into Shakespeare outside of the classroom, especially if they can find a good production of it.

In addition to Shakespeare’s reworking of familiar tropes in new ways, readers and audiences will find in Much Ado another staple of Elizabethan Comedy: bawdy jokes. Within the first few lines, banter of a specific strain is introduced that underscores and arguably provokes the main conflict surrounding Claudio and Hero: that of cuckoldry. After some initial exposition of the recent battles by a messenger to the local governor Leonato (as well as a bit too much protesting on Beatrice’s part about a Signior Benedick), the soldiers show up, and the preeminent Don Pedro notes Leonato’s daughter, provoking the lewd joke and theme:

Don Pedro:

I think this is your daughter.

Leonato:

Her mother hath many times told me so.

Benedick:

Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her?

Leonato:

Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child.

Don Pedro:

You have it full, Benedick; we may guess by this what you are, being a man.—Truly, the lady fathers herself.—Be happy, lady; for you are like an honorable father.

Along with the casual bombast that unites the men (in which Beatrice soon partakes with as much alacrity as they), there is a suggestion of Benedick’s reputation as a supposed worrier of husbands. Whether or not this actually is his reputation and character (doubtful, as we’ll see) or whether it is merely a ribald compliment by a man too old to have participated in the recent action, it establishes Benedick as synonymous with the play’s one-up-manship and humorous outrage, often at the expense of women—here, the joker’s dead wife.

And there’s the rub, at least for modern readers: can we enjoy a play that is built, from incidental banter to entire plot structure, on a suspicion of women? Furthermore, are we allowed to compass—and, God forfend, enjoy—a man like Signior Benedick?

No less than Shakespeare’s Globe has taken up the first question in an examination of the play by Dr. Miranda Fay Thomas, whose treatment is well done. Using Beatrice’s cry of “O God, that I were a man!” as a jumping-off point, Thomas explores the recourses available to men and not women through the play, from the initial male bonding to “the ability to take personal revenge on offenders like Claudio, openly defy father-figures like Leonato, or even simply to fall in love with a person of her choosing and for her affection not to be seen as weakness, nor her sexual desires be used as evidence of her inconstant character.” The article continues through an examination of possible reasons for the play’s focus on the men’s apparent insecurity; “the very fact that women can hurt them emotionally,” Thomas argues, “is a chink in their armour that they do not want to be exposed.” This theme, of course, can be found throughout the play, a fact of which Thomas argues Shakespeare, whom she demarcates from his characters, was conscious, using as he does the imbalance of female characters (notably played by men at the time) “to his advantage by allowing us to see how vulnerable women like Hero and Beatrice could be in Elizabethan society.”

Though I don’t share all her interpretations of either the play itself or of today’s society, I believe Dr. Thomas’s argument worth the read, and one that, unlike some takes, does constructively add to the discourse. The broader critique of Much Ado along these lines, if undertaken to add to rather than subtract from our enjoyment of the play and if one avoids substituting mere criticizing for literary criticism, is a legitimate and fruitful one—and, in fact, jejune to the text.

The play, itself, examines the “battle of the sexes” tropes of Comedy, though I think ultimately to edify and expand the genre. While I don’t believe for a second that Shakespeare’s primary goal as a writer was social critique, the entire structure and tension of several of his comedies rest on some kind of imbalance between men and women that must be resolved by play’s end, and he milks the dramatic potential of said imbalances for all they’re worth. Much Ado would be boring if Beatrice weren’t more than equal to Benedick—who, we should note, is usually the butt rather than head of the play’s jokes—and much of the play’s ado could have been spared had the men simply listened to the women (a common theme in comedy that venerates both sexes and their respective complement). So, if there is what we’d today call sexism in the play, it does not necessitate that we vilify the whole thing, itself, as sexist. Indeed, the way Much Ado works out undercuts the soldiers’ suspicion of women; such insecurity as is veiled in the above joke and the broader plot ends up doing more harm than good to the men, and is eventually chastised—a formula Shakespeare reused again more seriously in The Winter’s Tale, among others.

However, we are left with the question of what to do with Benedick. To first-time audiences, Benedick would be the obvious source of the play’s supposed misogyny. Besides the low-hanging fruit of his name (full pun intended—as Shakespeare meant such things to be!), his persona of being too good for most women and living proudly as a bachelor lends him to modern castigation.

In Act II, Scene 3, Benedick soliloquizes:

I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love…May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not…One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain; wise, or I’ll none; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her; fair, or I’ll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour it please God.

One’s initial response, nowadays (to our absolute peril), might have to be an at least prudent, defensive cringe on Benedick’s behalf against his own words. With the speech’s objectification, impossible beauty standards, fat-shaming, slut-shaming, ableism, &c, one can imagine the modern response. Yet, to the student or prospective audience member who would question whether we should laud such a chauvinistic, misogynistic, ableist, probably racist character, I’d say yes—because I don’t think he’s any of those things.

One general piece of wisdom is that when Shakespeare hands us a foil, be it a sword or a character dichotomy, we should pick it up. Benedick’s words—indeed, his entire character throughout the play—must be measured against Claudio. Before the metaphysical battle in 19th-century art and literature between Romanticism and Realism, Shakespeare had already staged the fight in several of his plays and poems; in Much Ado, it can be seen in Benedick and Claudio’s contrasting approaches to love.

Like many other romantics in Shakespeare, the inexperienced Claudio is taken away by his passion for Hero. While he arguably has the flimsy excuse of being new to this sort of thing, several aspects of his behavior point to the shallowness of his passion. Besides the fact that much of his language regarding Hero is that of commodity and trade, Claudio is just as easily led out of love as he was into it—a function of his romance’s being, from start to finish, based on externals. If we didn’t already know it, the play, itself, shows us such things can mislead for both negative and positive effects; in lieu of a play-within-a-play we are even treated to a masquerade that serves as a microcosm of the play and concretizes several of its core themes. Although the blame for Claudio’s rejection at the wedding ceremony explicitly and legally belongs more to Don John and Boracchio’s deception than to Claudio, the young romantic who leaves himself most vulnerable to passionate love nonetheless causes much harm by it.

This is a far cry from the supposedly woman-hating Benedick. For all his defensiveness against romance—and I do believe it is a defensiveness, a control and limit around an existing vulnerability, as Dr. Thomas suggests above, though one I think constructed as much to protect women from his own actions as himself from theirs—Benedick causes very little anguish in the play. Not until his conflict, the quintessential questioning of that venerable dictum “Bros before hoes,” is concretized by Beatrice’s requirement that loving her means killing Claudio, is there any real possibility of Benedick’s causing pain to a woman. Even then, the bashful man who declares his love for Beatrice is very different from the one who previously enumerated the terms of his proud but stagnant bachelorhood (the embarrassing, quickening changes brought by love being another core trope of Comedy).

Examined again with his later humility in mind, the speech reveals that he is not as sure against love as he might wish to seem; leaving room for the scene’s humorous extemporizing, he has his list of traits ready. Furthermore, anyone who knows the blindness of love qua comic trope and has been paying attention can see that he is describing, for the most part, Beatrice, herself. “Fair…wise…virtuous…mild [(eh, can’t win ’em all)]…noble…of good discourse…” He has already admitted most of these about the woman before his notorious monologue. If he doesn’t have her consciously in mind, his subconscious is at least primed for the scene’s later ploy by the rest of the men to have him overhear words of Beatrice’s affection.

To the modern reader or student, I would submit that far from hating women Benedick actually respects both them and himself enough not to mislead them. Further, I don’t believe he is as uninterested in them as he makes out—for consider how quickly he is directed towards Beatrice. One cannot turn an engine empty of fuel. However, his shortsightedness aside, he apparently knows himself and what it will take to make him genuinely committed, not just in name like Claudio. I’d even read his high standards as a confession of a knowledge of his own passion, which he has wisely and philogynically kept controlled behind an off-putting mask of bravado and bachelorhood—a veritable Elizabethan St. Christopher! Perhaps that’s a bit far. Nonetheless, brash and arrogant he may be, but he’s not the one who ruins Leonato’s daughter’s wedding day (I write this as a new father of a daughter far prettier than I was prepared for).

It may seem contradictory to hide a respect and love for women behind a mask of brash misogyny; yet, it is not the only time Shakespeare uses the ploy. The oft-maligned Petruccio, with a more blatant misogyny than Benedick’s, mimics and turns the tables on Kate’s shrewish misandry and, in Dr. Peter Saccio’s words in his excellent lecture series on Shakespeare, thereby releases her from said misandry and “teaches her to play.” Or, consider Hamlet’s much more vicious and tragic rejection of Ophelia, which he, as prince, must arguably do for her own good (though, in my opinion and his mask of madness aside, Hamlet is more a Claudio than a Benedick, and, at the risk of channeling Polonius, I wouldn’t want him near my daughter). Finally, for a dramatized examination of Prince Hal’s mask, read the Prologue to my novel Sacred Shadows and Latent Light.

In a time where even the mention of certain words, concepts, or perspectives can lead to the extirpation of an artist or his or her work, the lesson of Benedick bears stating explicitly: yes, characters do not equal the author, but neither may our shallow interpretations of characters equal the actual character. Forgive my being anachronistic and offering yet more unasked-for wisdom for reading his writing, but if Shakespeare sets up a Chekov’s gun (or a Leonato’s joke, as it were), it will go off—or be undercut and nuanced—by play’s end. The outrage in Much Ado should not be read as misogyny for its own sake, nor should masks of things like misogyny, conscious or unconscious, be taken for the real thing; rather, the low view of women sets up for the comic treatment of masculine bravado—which, in the form of Benedick and the revealed depths of his character, bashfully wants to respect, protect, and be loved by the very femininity it warily eschews.

The remedy, to further take something from Nothing, is to trust that Shakespeare (and, dare I say, other authors of the canon) and his characters have more depth than we can initially see. Beatrice and Benedick cure each other of their respective shrewishness and bachelorhood; may it not be that learning to enjoy characters such as they and works such as Much Ado, would cure modern interpretations of their own mask of love and philanthropy, which, like that of Claudio or of Don John, may very well hide a much deeper misogyny?

This is not to say we should avoid legitimate criticism (though, again, literary criticism =/= merely criticizing the perceived faults of a work), but such examination, in addition to seeking to build our knowledge for present and future readers, should approach works directly yet humbly. As I have noted in previous pieces, authors like Shakespeare already contain in their works and answer many of the critiques we might make.

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Consorts (Part 1)

By Sarah Stook — 2 years ago

We’ve had many monarchs in English and British history. Nearly all of them have been married, some more than once.

Here’s part one of my series on consorts:

Matilda of Flanders

Life: c. 1031-2nd November
Reigned: 25th December 1066-2nd November 1083
Spouse: William I (m. 1051/1052)
Children: Nine, including William I and Henry I
Parents: Baldwin V, Count of Flanders and Adela of France
Origin: France

Early Life: Matilda of Flanders was born in roughly 1031 to Baldwin V, Count of Flanders and Adela of France. Baldwin was a descendent of Alfred the Great. It’s believed that Adela could be the woman who was married to William I’s uncle, though historians are unsure if it is her. She was also the daughter of Robert II of France. This meant that Matilda had an impeccable lineage.

We do not know much about Matilda’s early life beyond that she spent it in Lille, northern France. Her mother, the extremely devout Adela, taught her daughter.

Marriage and Children: Flanders was a key region of Europe and allied with many of the important players. This made Matilda an extremely eligible match. William of Normandy was a bastard whose legitimacy tainted his prosperity. Legend has it that Matilda told his envoy that she was too high born for a bastard. William reportedly, depending on which version you believe, either dragged her off of her horse or went to her house and hit her. Matilda was reportedly so moved by that passion that she decided she’d marry only him.

Pope Leo Ix refused to give permission as the pair were too closely related as fifth cousins. This did not dissuade them, and they married in around 1051/1052.

William and Matilda had a strong, loving relationship. Unlike many of his contemporary leaders, William never took a mistress. They worked well together and Matilda was instrumental in getting William on the throne of England. He was devastated by her death, which led to an increase in his authoritarian tendencies.

They had at least nine children, including future kings William II and Henry I. Their daughters either took the veil or had advantageous marriages.

Pre-Reign and Queenship: Matilda became the Duchess of Normandy upon marriage. She had all but one of her children there, with Henry being born in England. Matilda contributed to her husband’s attempts to gain the English throne. She purchased and paid for a lavish ship, designing it herself. William was said to be deeply touched by the move.

Matilda remained regent in Normandy as William settled in England following the Battle of Hastings. She proved a capable leader, with Normandy seeing no uprisings or rebellions under her care. It also became a flourishing centre for arts.

She arrived in England in 1068, where she was crowned in a lavish ceremony. William made sure to crown as Queen and not merely a consort, as had been the case up until that point. Her name was mentioned in official documents and the Church fully recognised her.

Matilda had many landholdings and was a very wealthy woman in her own right. She closely supervised the education of her children, all of whom were educated to the highest extent.

The marriage did hit a rough patch. Their son Robert had been furious at his father for taking his (Robert’s) deceased fiancée’s lands. Robert was further angered when William failed to punish his younger sons after a prank on him. After Robert nearly accidentally killed William in battle, he was exiled. A few years later, William discovered that Matilda had been sending Robert money. He was livid but Matilda managed to plead motherly affection and win him back. Matilda brokered a reconciliation between father and son in 1080.

Matilda died in late 1083. William was devastated. He never remarried- though he wouldn’t have needed to- and did not take any mistresses. It’s said that the loss of her good influence made him more tyrannical. She is buried in Normandy at a church not far from where her husband rests.

Personality: Matilda was a deeply intelligent individual in terms of both street smarts and academia. She ensured the education of her children and was by all accounts a very loving mother. Her relationship with her husband was a good one and she was his best counsel. Matilda’s courage and shrewdness made her a strong ally and callable leader. She was deeply pious, even for the time, and left a lot of money to the church and charity.

Legacy: Matilda is remembered as the first official Queen of England. Her pious nature led her to build many religious centres. Some used to believe she was involved in creating the Bayeux Tapestry, though historians discredit that. She’s the descendent of nearly all English and British monarchs.

Matilda of Scotland

Life: 1080-1st May 1118
Reigned: 11th November 1100-1st May 1118
Spouse: Henry I (m.1110)
Children: Empress Matilda and William Adelin
Parents: Malcolm III of Scotland and Margaret of Wessex
Origin: Scotland

Early Life: Matilda was born with the name Edith sometime in 1080. Edith’s parents were Malcolm III of Scotland and Margaret of Wessex. Malcolm ruled Scotland for thirty-five years, whilst the deeply intellectual Margaret would later be given a sainthood. At her christening, Edith pulled the headdress of her godmother, Matilda of Flanders. This was said to be an omen that Edith would one day be Queen.

Edith’s education was advanced for a woman at the time. She was a desirable match, but the strong-willed Edith refused many matches. Her parents had her betrothed to Alan Rufus, Lord of Richmond, a man forty years her senior, when she was thirteen. The death of her parents and older brother saw Rufus run off to marry another. Her uncle took the throne and her brothers were sent to England for protection. It is likely that Edith stayed in England too.

Marriage and Children: When William II of England died in 1100, his brother Henry took the throne as William was childless. He wished to marry and to cement his stature, he wished to marry Edith. Edith was reportedly beautiful and they’d known each other for years. The only problem was that Edith had been raised in a convent and there was conjecture as to whether she’d been a nun or not. It had been her aunt Christina’s wish, but Edith refused. She told a commission that she’d only been veiled to protect from being raped by soldiers. Edith further said she’d stamped on her habit after being given it. It was eventually decided that Edith was free to marry.

Henry married Edith in November 1100. She changed her name to Matilda. Matilda-how I feel refer to her from now on- and Henry had two children who lived past infancy. They were Matilda and William (original naming).

The pair seemed to have a happy marriage, despite Henry’s many, many illegitimate children. This was the norm for the time and it seems that Matilda chose to ignore it.

Queenship: Matilda was a learned Queen who served as a regent when her husband was away-which was often. She was a huge patron of the arts and made her home of Westminster a hub of music and literature. Matilda was also deeply religious, maybe even more so than her mother, and charitable. She commissioned hospitals, churches, schools and other public works. Matilda would wash the feet of the poor and kiss the hands of the ill.

As was custom for the time, Matilda helped find strong marriages for her children. She had her daughter Matilda married off to Henry V, Holy Roman Emperor in 1114. William was engaged to Matilda of Anjou in 1113 and would be married when they were old enough.

Matilda died in May 1118, her husband by her side. Henry mourned the loss, but had to remarry after the death of his son.

Personality: Matilda had a strong personality, as evidenced by her fight to be able to marry instead of being kept as a nun. She was extremely intelligent and devout. It seemed that she was trusted enough to be regent when her husband was often away and she had an active role.

Legacy: Matilda is most remembered for being a devout Christian who funded public works and charity. Many suggested that she be canonized but this never happened. Matilda was used as an excuse by King Stephen to deny her daughter the chance at being Queen, as he argued that she’d been a nun and thus not eligible for marriage.

Adeliza of Louvain

Life: c.1103-1151
Reigned: 24th January 1121-December 1135
Spouse(s): Henry I (m. 1121), William d’Aubigny (m.1138)
Children: Seven with William d’Aubigny
Parents: Godfrey, Count of Louvain and Ida of Ching
Origin: Belgium

Early Life: Adeliza of Louvain was born in around 1103 to Godfrey, Count of Louvain and Ida of Ching. Very little is known about her early life beyond the fact she was reportedly extremely beautiful. Her nickname was ‘The Fair Maiden of Brabant.’ Through her father, she was a descendent of Charlemagne. She may have been well-educated as she knew French, this was not the language of her home.

Marriage: In 1120, Henry I lost his only legitimate son William. He needed an heir and wished to marry Adeliza due to her beauty and heritage. The two wed in January 1121.

Their marriage produced no children, though Adeliza would have children with her second husband. Henry and Adeliza likely had a good marriage as they were always together. She was not, however, at his deathbed in France.

Queenship: Adeliza was not political like her predecessor, but was a huge patron of the arts. She pushed for French literature, making it popular among the nobles of Europe. Henry gave her generous dower lands which allowed her to live in wealth.

Post-Queenship: Henry died in 1135, leaving Adeliza as a widow. She lived in her dower lands as the Anarchy started to unfold. In her widowhood, Adeliza was a proponent of religious charity and commissioned many buildings for the Church. She also remembered Henry and took care of his memorial.

Adeliza was living in an abbey when she was proposed to by William d’Aubigny. His family were minor nobility so the marriage was not too much of a challenge. The pair had seven children together and were ancestors of two of Henry VIII’s wives. Her husband William was a staunch supporter of Stephen, but Adeliza quietly supported Matilda, with whom she had a good relationship. It was only after Stephen threatened the family that Adeliza was forced to lure Matilda into a trap. She did ensure that Matilda could safely leave.

In 1150, Adeliza entered a monastery. This is unusual as she was still married with children. Records indicate she died a year later.

Personality: We know little of Adeliza beyond the fact she was uninterested in politics but enjoyed art. She seemed to be a good stepmother.

Legacy: Adeliza is oft-forgotten due to her lack of politics and not being the mother of a monarch. She is an ancestor of Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, however, so she did manage to have a say in the royal lineage many years down the line.

Geoffrey of Anjou

Life: 24th August 1113-7th September 1151
Reigned: (Disputed) 1141-1148
Spouse: Empress of Matilda (m.1128)
Children: Three legitimate, including Henry II
Parents: Fulk, King of Jerusalem and Ermengarde, Countess of Maine
Origin: France

Early Life: Geoffrey of Anjou was born on the 24th August 1113. His father Fulk would become King of Jerusalem upon his second marriage to Melisende of Jerusalem’. Geoffrey had three younger siblings and two younger-half siblings. His sister Matilda was the widow of his brother-in-law William. As a young man, Geoffrey was handsome and loved sports and hunting.

Marriage: Aware of the fact that he likely wasn’t going to have any more legitimate sons, Henry I of England needed his daughter Matilda to marry and have heirs. Anjou had been an ally since William had married Geoffrey’s sister Matilda. In 1128, Geoffrey and Matilda married.

Their marriage was not a happy one. Matilda was a decade older than Geoffrey and felt that marrying a Count was beneath her, as her previous husband had been an emperor. They were both strong-willed and independent people who liked to get their own way. Geoffrey would have bastards.

They had three sons together: Henry, Geoffrey and William. The latter two would die fairly young.

Pre-Reign and Consort: As Count of Anjou, Geoffrey was in charge of the state. He put down several rebellions. In 1135, his father-in-law finally died. Some states submitted to Matilda and accepted her reign, but the English nobles chose her cousin Stephen (eldest living nephew of Henry I). This was for two reasons- the fact that Matilda was a woman and the fact that they didn’t particularly like her husband.

During his contested consortship, Geoffrey fought in Normandy whilst Matilda headed to England. He did make headway but was bogged down, leaving him no time to assist his wife in England. Geoffrey was endlessly putting down rebellions and eventually gave Normandy to his eldest son Henry.

Geoffrey died suddenly at the age of 38. He is buried in Les Mans.

Personality: Geoffrey was outwardly affable and charming, with a love for merriment and sports. He could be very cold and his strong personality made him clash with his wife. Geoffrey was nonetheless very loyal to Matilda, though one would argue that gaining the crown would be more of a benefit to him.

Legacy: Along with Lord Guildford Dudley, Geoffrey is one of two disputed consorts. He is often not included in historical rankings or is least not classed as a consort. His son Henry would live on as king, meaning that Geoffrey is an ancestor of many monarchs.

Matilda of Boulogne:

Life: c.1105-3rd May 1152
Reigned: 22nd December 1135-3rd May 1152
Spouse: Stephen (m.1125)
Children: Five, including Eustace
Parents: Eustace III, Count of Boulogne and Mary of Scotland
Origin: France

Early Life: Matilda of Boulogne was born around 1105 to Eustace III, Count of Boulogne and Mary of Scotland. She was their only child, which was unusual for the period. Her mother Mary was the sister of Matilda of Scotland, consort to Henry I and mother of the Empress Matilda.

Extraordinarily little is known about Matilda’s early life beyond the fact she was betrothed to Stephen aged two and was educated in convents.

Marriage and Children: Matilda and Stephen married in 1125. The two enjoyed an extremely happy marriage, with Stephen taking no mistresses nor bearing any illegitimate children. They had a mutual love and respect for one another.

The pair had five children, three of whom would later rule Boulogne. Eustace was the eldest son and heir to Stephen until the Treaty of Wallingford saw him displaced.

Pre-Reign and Queenship: The first ten years of marriage were relatively peaceful, with the couple often visiting England. All that changed in 1135 upon the death of Henry I. Whilst Matilda waited to claim the throne, Stephen immediately jumped into action and headed to England.

The Anarchy would see Matilda and Stephen often parted. When it came to war, Matilda proved to be a surprisingly excellent leader and tactician. She often came to her husband’s aid with troops. Matilda forged an alliance with her uncle, David I of Scotland, before allying with France through the marriage of Stephen to the king’s sister Constance.

Upon hearing of her husband’s capture, Matilda begged her cousin for his release but was refused. Her army then forced the Empress out of London. It was after she captured Matilda’s extremely loyal half-brother that a prisoner exchange finally happened.

The war dragged on until 1147, when the Empress Matilda returned from Normandy. There was a stalemate at this point and no side had declared victory. Stephen acted as king. Meanwhile, Matilda enjoyed widespread popularity. She was admired for her steadfast dedication to her husband, her bravery, courage and intelligence. Contemporary chroniclers said that she had a man’s heart in a woman’s body. Stephen always listened to her counsel.

Matilda died fairly suddenly in spring 1152 whilst staying in Essex. Stephen was not there at the time. One can assume he was devastated. They are buried together at Faversham Abbey, Kent.

Personality: Matilda was one of medieval Europe’s most brilliant women. Not only was she an extremely loyal spouse, but she was also a talented leader and soldier. She was on the frontlines during the war and was key in several victories. Her love for her husband was evident, as was his love for her. Contemporary citizens loved Matilda and held her up as an ideal woman.
Legacy: Despite the fact her children never ruled England, three would rule Boulogne. Her daughter Marie and granddaughter Ida would be Countesses of Boulogne in their own right, not forced to share power with their husbands. As Henry II was her cousin’s son, Matilda is an ancestor of many of our monarchs.

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Consorts (Part 2)

By Sarah Stook — 2 years ago

Eleanor of Aquitaine

Life: c.1122-1st April 1244
Reigned: 19th December 1154-6th July 1189
Spouse(s): Louis VII of France (m.1137), Henry II (m.1152)
Children: Two with Louis VIII, eight with Henry Il including Richard I and John
Parents: William X, Duke of Aquitaine and Aénor de Châtellerault
Origin: France

Early Life: Eleanor of Aquitaine was born in around 1122 in Poitiers, France. Her parents were William X, Duke of Aquitaine and Aénor de Châtellerault. Eleanor was extraordinarily well-educated, even more so than royal men at the time. She not only learned domestic skills, but her curriculum ranged from language and arithmetic to history and astronomy. The death of her brother and mother led her to become her father’s heir.

William died in 1137, leaving Eleanor the wealthiest girl in Europe at only fifteen. She held more lands than even the King of France. William had been worried about Eleanor being unprotected so made Louis VI of France her protector. Louis knew that Eleanor could bring a lot of wealth to the crown, so decided to marry her off. His eldest son Philip had died several years before so second son Louis had become his heir.

Marriages and Children: Eleanor married Prince Louis on 25th July 1137. They had two daughters, Marie and Alix. Both married noblemen. Whilst Louis was initially besotted with Eleanor, tensions soon rose and their marriage became unstable. The failure of the Crusades, Louis’ weaknesses, Eleanor’s headstrong nature and the lack of sons allowed the marriage to crumble.

Eleanor married Henry II in 1152, only weeks after her annulment. Their marriage was also turbulent and would eventually lead to Eleanor overthrowing her husband.

Her relationship with her children was somewhat better. Eleanor favoured her son Richard above the others but was close enough to each of them. She was able to closely monitor the upbringing of her daughters and ensure the marriages of her children. Richard trusted her enough to be regent whilst being away from England- he only spent six months in his kingdom during his ten year reign.

Pre-Reign and Queenship: They were Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine for about a week before discovering that the King had died. Eleanor chafed in the dull Paris castle that was now her residence, but found that the besotted Louis did anything she asked. She would use that to her advantage.

Louis soon became embroiled in war and scandal. His actions caused the death of thousands and the destruction of land. In 1145, the pair embarked on a Crusade. It was an absolute disaster and Eleanor started pushing for an annulment. The birth of a second daughter left Louis with no sons. Whilst the infertility of a spouse was grounds for annulment, having no sons wasn’t. Instead, they asked for an annulment on grounds of consanguinity as they were third cousins. This worked in 1152 and their daughters were under their father’s custody.

Concerned about her position, Eleanor decided to marry Henry, Duke of Normandy. This pleased Henry, as he was ready to be King of England and needed all the support he could get. They married on the 18th May 1152. Eleanor bore their first child, Henry, less than a year later.

In 1154, King Stephen died and Henry became Henry II. Despite having eight children together, Henry and Eleanor frequently argued. Henry was frequently unfaithful and had bastard children, with Eleanor swinging between annoyed and indifferent. One major conflict occurred when Eleanor was unhappy with the appointment of Thomas Becket as Archbishop of Canterbury. Eleanor was supported by her mother-in-law the Empress Matilda, a formidable woman in her own right.

The chroniclers of the time do not mention Eleanor’s political involvement but one would assume she had her say, despite being consistently pregnant. In 1167, Eleanor moved to Poitiers with her youngest son John. She was over forty at this point and having five sons meant that the succession was secure. Henry escorted her there.

It is said that Eleanor created the idea of Courtly Love whilst in Poitiers but there is no evidence for this. It is known that she encouraged music, literature and the arts. This era of peace ended in 1173 when her son Henry the Young King decided to rebel against his father. He travelled to Eleanor and encouraged his brothers to join him. This year and a half long rebellion ended in disaster.

Eleanor was captured by her husband and brought to England. She spent the next sixteen years as a prisoner. Whilst she was kept comfortably and enjoyed many luxuries, she was still a prisoner. Eleanor was allowed to move somewhat freely after the death of Henry the Young King but always had a ‘chaperone’ with her.

Post-Queenship: Henry II died on the 6th July 1189. Richard, Eleanor’s favourite son, was now king and had her released. With Richard away in England for all but six months, Eleanor was trusted to run the kingdom. She raised the ransom for Richard when he was captured in 1192. When Richard died, Eleanor was tasked with marrying off her granddaughters.

Eleanor retired to a convent before her death in 1204. She’d lived until her 80s, extremely unusual for the time. Eleanor had outlived all but her two of her children as well as both husbands. She is buried with her husband and Richard.

Personality: As a person, Eleanor was extremely intelligent, academic, strong-willed and headstrong. Her toughness outshone the weakness of her husbands. Eleanor was a good mother to her children but was ready to anger her husbands. She was a trusted ruler in her own right.

Legacy: Eleanor of Aquitaine is remembered as one of the most famous Queens of England. Her push to overthrow her husband did fail, but her strength is remembered. She has been commemorated on stage and screen, most famously by Katharine Hepburn in The Lion of Winter. Two of her sons would become King and her daughters married into nobility.

Margaret of France

Life: 1158-18th September 1197
Reigned: 27th August 1172-11th June 1183
Spouse(s): Henry the Young King (m.1170), Béla III of Hungary (m.1186)
Children: William with Henry the Young King
Parents: Louis VIII of France and Constance of Castile
Origin: France

Early Life: Margaret was born sometime in 1158 to Louis VIII of France and Constance of Castile. Her father had previously been married to Eleanor of Aquitaine so she shared half-sisters with her future husband. Louis cared deeply for his wife Constance and was devastated by her death, but married again only a month later as he’d been desperate for a son.

The birth of Louis’ son and Margaret’s half-brother worried Henry II, so he had his son Henry betrothed to Margaret.

Marriages and Children: Henry and Margaret married in around 1170. When Henry was crowned Junior King in 1170, she was not crowned with him. This infuriated Louis, so Henry II had Margaret crowned in 1120 to pacify him.

We know little of Henry and Margaret’s relationship. It’s believed Henry may have wanted an annulment in regards to her apparently infertility. What they were like as a couple is unknown.

Margaret bore one child, William, when she was about nineteen. He died a few days later. His birth seemingly left Margaret unable to have any more children.

Margaret remarried in 1186 to Béla III of Hungary. We do not know what their relationship was like.

Queenship: Henry was never officially king, so Margaret was classed as a Junior Queen. Rumours circulated that she was having an affair but this is highly unlikely. We know next to nothing about her reign and it doesn’t look as though she had any real power.

Margaret was widowed in 1183.

Post-Queenship: Margaret, still young, married in 1186. Her new husband was Béla III of Hungary, making her the Queen of Hungary. She bore him no children though he already had heirs, so it was not as important. He died after ten years of marriage. Margaret died a year later aged about thirty-nine. She is buried in the Cathedral of Tyre, Lebanon, though it no longer stands.

Personality: With almost no historical records, we know nothing of Margaret as a person.

Legacy: Again, lack of records means that Margaret has no lasting impact. Many do not know that she was even a Queen (kind of). As she had no living children, she is not an ancestor of any royals.

Berengaria of Navarre

Life: c.1165-1170-23rd December 1230
Reigned: 12th May 1191-6th April 1199
Spouse: Richard I (m.1191)
Children: None
Parents: Sancho VI of Navarre and Sancha of Castile
Origin: Spain

Early Life: Berengaria was born between 1165 and 1230 to Sancho VI of Navarre and Sancha of Castile. She was the eldest of six children. There is no information on her early life so we do not know anything about it. The only thing we know is that Berengaria met her future husband Richard at a tournament years before their betrothal.

Marriage: Richard’s mother Eleanor of Aquitaine promoted an alliance with Navarre due to its strategic locations. He had been engaged to the sister of the French king, but his own father had taken her as a mistress so the engagement was broken off. Alys, the princess, was the half-sister of Richard II’s half-sister.

Richard and Berengaria wed on the 12th May 1191. She was in her early to mid twenties, which was very old for a noble bride of the era. The pair rarely spent time together due to Richard’s role in the Crusades and his apparent disinterest in his bride. They had no children, believed to be down to either infertility or lack of time together. Some believe that the marriage was never actually consummated.

Queenship: Berengaria joined Richard in the Holy Lands following the wedding. The failure led Berengaria and her sister-in-law Joan to head back to France. It would be another three years before husband and wife saw each other again. Berengaria spent her time in France during her husband’s captivity, helping her mother-in-law raise the ransom. She continued to live there upon Richard’s release as he returned to England and then shored up his lands on the continent.

The Church was angered at Richard seemingly ignoring Berengaria and the Pope told him to reconcile with her. Once Richard was finished with his business, he returned to Berengaria. He’d accompany her to church once a week but they still did not have a child.

Post-Queenship: Richard died on the 6th April 1199, leaving Berengaria a widow. She was not at his bedside upon his death and had not even been summoned by Eleanor of Aquitaine. Berengaria retired to her dower lands, but found that most of them had been seized by John. She asked her mother-in-law and the Pope to intercede on her behalf. They did, but Berengaria would only be paid back upon the ascension of John’s son.

Berengaria entered a convent in 1129 and died one year later. She was buried in Les Mans but her burial place has been moved more than once.

Personality: We know extremely little of Berengaria. One contemporary called her ‘elegant and prudent,’ whilst noting her musical talent. She joined her husband on the Crusades, so she was likely a tough and devout woman.

Legacy: Berengaria is barely remembered to this day. She is called the only English queen to never enter the country, though she likely visited after her husband died. Berengaria did not have any children that would go on to be ancestors of Europe.

Isabella of Angoulême

Life: c.1186/1188- 4th June 1246
Reigned: 24th August 1200-19th October 1216
Spouse: John (m. 1200), Hugh X of Lusignan (m. 1220)
Children: Five with John, including Henry III, and nine with Hugh
Parents: Aymer, Count of Angoulême and Alice of Courtenay
Origin: France

Early Life: Isabella was born around 1186-1188 to Aymer, Count of Angoulême and Alice of Courtenay. She was the only surviving child of her parents but little else is known about her early life. Through her mother, she was related to the French monarchy. She was originally engaged to Hugh IX of Lusignan and was sent to his court.

Marriages and Children: John of England had previously been married to Isabel of Gloucester. Their marriage was annulled on grounds of consanguinity, they were so closely related that they weren’t allowed to have sex. John cast his eye on Isabella for two reasons: her renowned beauty and to prevent her from marrying the powerful Hugh.

John was besotted by Isabella and reportedly neglected his duties to be with her. She was a high-spirited and headstrong woman with a personality to match his own. Unfortunately, John was also cruel and took mistresses. He blamed Isabella for his own failures.

They had five children together, the first born seven years after their marriage. Henry III would be King of England, Richard King of Rome, Joan Queen of Scotland, Isabella Holy Roman Empress and Eleanor, a prominent noble.

Queenship: Isabella did not have the most enjoyable time as Queen. Hugh of Lusignan was not thrilled about John having stolen his fiancée and kicked up a stink. The King of France then took John’s French possessions and gave them to Hugh. John blamed this on Isabella, despite him having pushed to marry her. Isabella was blamed by the elites for John’s misadventures despite her being a child. They called her a seductress and a Jezebel.

In 1203, Isabella’s castle was besieged by rebels. John set out to rescue her but was scared of being captured himself, so he sent out a force. A year previously, he’d personally rescued his mother. She would spend most of the years from 1207 pregnant. Her children would be raised away from her and she wasn’t allowed a government role. Whilst John abducted noblewomen and had illegitimate children, rumours of Isabella’s adultery made her extremely unpopular.

Post-Queenship: Isabella was forced to live under guard as French forces made ground in England. On the 18th October 1216, John died. This may have been a relief for Isabella on a personal level but her son was still underage. In order to cement her son’s claim, Isabella took him to Gloucester and had him crowned. Her unpopularity meant that she was not part of his regency council.

Isabella then headed to France to take control of her lands. Her daughter Joan was engaged to Hugh IX’s son Hugh X and had been sent to live at their court. When Hugh X saw Isabella, he decided to marry her instead. Joan was promised to the King of Scotland. The English were furious that Isabella had not sought their permission and took away her dower lands. Isabella retaliated by threatening to keep Joan in France. Alexander of Scotland wanted his bride, so a settlement was reached.

Isabella would have nine children with Hugh. This marriage was likely better for Isabella as Hugh included her in governance and both of their signatures were found on documents. She did not have a good relationship with the sons from her first marriage, especially as it was decades before she saw them again. Isabella also resented having to defer to other women even though she was the former Queen.

After being snubbed by the King of France’s mother, Isabella started plotting against him. After she was implicated in an attempted poisoning, Isabella fled to an abbey for protection in 1244.

Isabella died on the 4th June 1246, aged between 58 and 60. She was little mourned in England, but her son did ensure she was moved from the abbey to be buried with his grandparents.

Personality: Isabella was a strong and tenacious woman who didn’t hesitate to get what she wanted. Contemporaries called her a Jezebel and overly ambitious, blaming her for affairs that may not even have happened. Isabella was also very young at the time. She ultimately wanted some happiness after being married off as a child bride and blamed for her husband’s misdeeds. Though contemporaries may have been overly critical of her, Isabella did steal her daughter’s fiancé and threatened to keep her away. She also left her children to look after themselves.

Legacy: Isabella is poorly remembered due to her apparent poor behaviour and being a seductress. We must remember that women of the time were overly blamed for everything and that she was also a CHILD at the time. Isabella did her duty in that she provided an heir and all of her royal children married well.

Eleanor of Provence

Life: c.1223-24/25th June 1291
Reigned: 14th January 1236-16th November 1272
Spouse: Henry III (m.1236)
Children: Five, including Edward I
Parents: Ramon Berenguer IV, Count of Provence and Beatrice of Savoy
Origin: France

Early Life: Eleanor was born in Provence in about 1223 to Ramon Berenguer IV, Count of Provence and Beatrice of Savoy. She was the second of four sisters, all of whom would marry kings. Margaret would become the Queen of France, Sanchia Queen of Germany and Beatrice Queen of Sicily. Sanchia’s husband was Henry III’s younger brother.

It seems that Eleanor was well-educated, with a zeal for reading and poetry. Little is known about her early life, though it’s known her father was a generous and shrewd man, whilst her mother was very intelligent.

Marriage and Children: Eleanor’s family worked to marry her off to Henry III. Henry had been king for ove twenty years after attaining the throne at a young age. It worked and Eleanor set off to England, marrying Henry on the 14th January 1236.

The two enjoyed a loving marriage. Eleanor was intensely loyal to her husband and Henry is not believed to have had any mistresses, a rarity for the time. They spent a lot of time together and Henry trusted Eleanor to act as regent. Discord did occur when Eleanor attempted to intervene in favour of an uncle, causing Henry to banish her from court and seize her lands. They eventually reconciled.

Eleanor and Henry would have five children, four of whom lived to adulthood. Their eldest son Edward would become Edward I and daughter Margaret would wed the King of Scotland. She seemed to have a good relationship with her children and was instrumental in their upbringing. The pair were devastated when their daughter Katherine died at only three years old.

Queenship: As Queen, Eleanor set out to bring a cultural renaissance to England. She likely found England dull and dry compared to her home. Eleanor encouraged literature, poetry and the arts. She was also seen as fashionable and brought many new trends over from the continent. On top of that, Eleanor enjoyed gardening.

Unfortunately, Eleanor was deeply unpopular. She tended to be interested and involved in politics, which was seen as unbecoming for a Queen and a foreigner. Eleanor also brought a large retinue with her, angering the people and those at court. The nobles at court were worried about foreign influence, whilst the common people worried about cost. Eleanor was once booed and pelted with food as she headed through London. She also invited unpopularity with her lands and willingness to tax.

Post-Queenship: Henry III died on the 16th November 1272. Eleanor was not active politically as Dowager Queen, instead focusing on her family. She helped raise her grandchildren, including Edward’s son Henry. So close was their relationship that Eleanor tended to Henry during his illness and was with him when he died at the tender age of six.

In 1286, Eleanor followed the trend of many queens and retired to a convent. She lived there with two of her granddaughters.

Eleanor finally died in June 1291. She was buried in an unmarked grave and is thus the only Queen whose burial place remained unknown.

Personality: Eleanor was principally a lover of the arts, with poetry being her greatest joy. She was also a deeply loyal wife and loving mother, enjoying a mutually faithful relationship with her husband. Eleanor also cared deeply for her grandchildren. She was intelligent and erudite, enjoying the privilege of being her husband’s regent when he was abroad. Surviving letters show a sense of compassion. Unfortunately, Eleanor could be ruthless. She was happy to tax her subjects highly, hated the Londoners and expelled all Jews from her lands.

Legacy: Eleanor is primarily remembered for her cultural and fashionable activities, particularly poetry. Many letters from her survive, which give historians a great insight into Eleanor as a person.

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Between Nihilism and Cottagecore; a Generation Lost

By Juanita Galea — 2 years ago

As much as I have gotten tired of talking about this virus, it is important to address the following; Covid-19 has had disastrous impacts on Generation Z. Whether we like to admit it or not, Gen Z is based on a culture of avoiding social interaction, virtual relationships and a general pessimistic outview of life.

The confinements we found ourselves in due to the pandemic, led us to migrate from real human life, to the material world of virtual interaction. Although this might not have seemed to be such a problem for a generation which shows great aversion to in-person interaction, however this was anything but the case.

The best way one could analyse and scrutinise the essence which makes up a millennial, one wouldn’t have to look further than from the structureless abyss which we know as the internet.

This period of lockdown has in a weird way reversed some of the progressive stirrings taking place within the subconscious of a Gen-z individual. This overload of isolation– encompassed by a general lack of social gatherings, in-person learning and cultural legacy has led this generation to ever so slightly and in a gradual manner, become more sensitive to the present late-civilisational decay which is surrounding them.

This can be seen through the different aesthetic styles promoted online. Such aesthetic styles include retrowave, post-modern, steampunk, fantasy ect. The obsession with such aesthetics does not necessarily stem from visual pleasure. Rather, it offers an escapist utopia for those stuck in a dull and grey world– from a world characterised by social media expectations, lockdowns and a general nihilism which cakes like dust any aspirations present.

An aesthetic which quickly rose to popularity during the last two years was Cottage Core. In essence, as an aesthetic it is composed of greenery and flowers surrounding a traditional cottage, with women dressed in a white modest dress taking care of the house, the plants, the washing up, the children. It truly is a return to a life which Gen Zers never experienced– and given the way in which our economic structure is heading, will never have the inherent right nor pleasure to experience.

This traditionalist aesthetic takes us back to the roots of what once was the foundation of the state (the family actually has existed long before the concept of the State, I would argue it is the foundation for building communities)– a nuclear family based on distinctive parental roles, a time when marriage was based on or rather seen desirable / the main goal of a marriage was to bare children and create a legacy– offspring to whom you can pass down your faith, beliefs and nation. It brings with it a breath of neo-romanticism.

Such a fact carries with it a certain level of irony of course. The fact that the internet and technology are used to make and spread such images, is rather ironic given the fact that it is this very internet and technology which stripped this idyllic life away from us. Virtual citizens who have bloodshot eyes, social anxiety and an all around lack of will to persevere, find an escape in such aesthetics. This aesthetic comes part and parcel with an affinity for historical period dramas, a subconscious desire to leave the city and a longing for a family to nurture and raise.

As T. Howard interestingly noted, “the aesthetic is self-consciously escapist and Cottage Core can be thought of as one of many expressive forms of post-Sexual Revolution trauma in the West.”.

The Covid-19 lockdowns led many Gen Zers to realise that with the leisure of open bars, theatres and clubs being taken away from the equation, the only thing which is left is the skeletal facade of a city– one which highlights so perfectly the metamorphosis of our decaying civilisation. What was left once such establishments were shut down? A reminder of the lives Gen Z were robbed off.

The seed of cultural Marxism has undoubtedly been sowed within the hem of the 21st century. This can be witnessed through the manifestation of Cancel Culture. Being a member of Gen Z automatically prevents you from being able to criticise the western social revolution of the 20th century (in the same way a black man or woman cannot criticise the BLM movement).

No matter how far Gen Z idealogues strive to stray away from what is natural, normal and traditional, in reality human nature and desires do not change. They are constant within the subconscious– no matter how hard the fight to push against them is. This is why the number of Gen Z anti-feminists is growing. Young women across the globe are realising what they lost– or rather, what has been taken from them.

Feminism might have not been merely an organic movement which hoped to foster equality for all, but rather an orchestrated ploy by powerful men in order to reduce women’s prospects of domestic fulfilment. Going to work and building a career is now seen as the ultimate form of self-liberation. Tell me, how can feminist groups look women in the eye and tell them they are better off as wage slaves, rather than as homemakers?

For the sake of clarification, I am in no way slandering women who work. If anything, they do not have a choice as our economy does not support such roles. However, I am criticising the fact that women can no longer stay at home and raise children– a reality which only came about once women entered the workforce. Late capitalism delights as this; more labour, more production, more money.

Furthermore, women are thought to feel empowered by showing off their bodies in the quest to acquire more money. Is that really all we have to offer our young daughters? Real empowerment comes from perseverance, faith and modesty. Women have been stripped of their dignity and identity, to be replaced by gender theory which promotes the idea that any individual can be a woman– regardless of anatomy.

This idea is further fuelled by the growing number of men who appropriate womanhood in their quest to “transition” providing the world with a very sexist and misogynistic view of what womanhood really is– reducing us to shopaholic hair obsessed women who care more about their clothes and nails than the future of their societies. How incredibly offensive it is to be a woman and be told that a biological man is just as much as a woman as you are.

With a growing interest in the traditional– even within the local context you see a revival of interest in Maltese traditional architecture, in folklore music and in cuisine, one is left to wonder whether or not this will manifest in a full fledged shift within the ideological attachments of Gen Z. The harvest is indeed plentiful, yet the labourers remain few.

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Orwell’s Egalitarian Problem

By Philip Diaz-Lewis — 2 years ago

George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four is a book whose influence exceeds its readership. It resembles a Rorschach test; moulding itself to the political prejudices of whoever reads it. It also has a depth which often goes unnoticed by those fond of quoting it.

The problem isn’t that people cite Orwell, but that people cite Orwell in a facile and cliched manner. The society of Oceania which Orwell creates isn’t exemplified in any contemporary state, save perhaps wretched dictatorships like North Korea or Uzbekistan. It’s thus not my intent to draw on Nineteen Eighty-Four to indict my own society as being “Orwellian” in the sense of being a police state, a procurer of terror, or engaged in centralised fabrication of history. A world of complete totalitarianism of the Hitlerian or Stalinist kind hasn’t arrived (not yet at least), but Nineteen Eighty-Four still has insights applicable to our day.

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the protagonist, Winston, is suffocated by the miserable tyranny he lives in. The English Socialist Party (INGSOC) controls all aspects of Britain, now called Airstrip One, a province of the state of Oceania. It does so in the name of their personified yet never seen dictator, Big Brother. When Winston is almost at breaking point, he meets fellow party member, O’Brien. O’Brien, Winston thinks, is secretly a member of the resistance, a group opposing Big Brother. O’Brien hands Winston a book called The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism. This book is supposedly written by Emmanuel Goldstein, arch-nemesis of Big Brother, and details the secret history and workings of Oceanian society, something unknown to all its citizens.

Oligarchic collectivism is the book’s term for the ideology of the Party in response to a repeating historical situation. Previous societies were characterised by constant strife between three social classes: the top, the middle, and the bottom. The pattern of revolution across history was always the middle enlisting the bottom by pandering to their base grievances. The middle would use the bottom to overthrow the top, install itself as the new top, and push the bottom back down to their previous place. A new middle would form over time, and the process would repeat.

INGSOC overthrew the top through a revolution, in the name of equality. What it actually achieved was collectivised ownership at the top, and so it created a communism of the few, not unlike classical Sparta. The rest of the population, derogatorily called “proles”, live in squalid poverty and are despised as animals. They’re kept from rebelling by being maintained in ignorance and given cheap hedonistic entertainment at the Party’s expense. INGSOC nominally rules on their behalf, but in reality is built upon their continual oppression. As Goldstein’s book puts it:

“All past oligarchies have fallen from power either because they ossified or because they grew soft. Either they became stupid and arrogant, failed to adjust themselves to changing circumstances, and were overthrown; or they became liberal and cowardly, made concessions when they should have used force, and once again were overthrown. They fell, that is to say, either through consciousness or through unconsciousness.”

In other words, the top falls either by failing to notice reality and being overthrown once reality crashes against it, or by noticing reality, trying to create a compromise solution, and being overthrown by the middle once they reveal their weakness. INGSOC, however, lasts indefinitely because it has discovered something previous oligarchies didn’t know:

“It is the achievement of the Party to have produced a system of thought in which both conditions can exist simultaneously. And upon no other intellectual basis could the dominion of the Party be made permanent. If one is to rule, and to continue ruling, one must be able to dislocate the sense of reality. For the secret of rulership is to combine a belief in one’s own infallibility with the Power to learn from past mistakes.”

INGSOC can simultaneously view itself as perfect, and effectively critique itself to respond to changing circumstances. It can do this, we are immediately told, through the principle of doublethink: holding two contradictory thoughts at once and believing them both:

“In our society, those who have the best knowledge of what is happening are also those who are furthest from seeing the world as it is. In general, the greater the understanding, the greater the delusion; the more intelligent, the less sane.”

It’s through this mechanism that the Party remains indefinitely in power. It has frozen history because it can notice gaps between its own ideology and reality, yet simultaneously deny to itself that these gaps exist. It can thus move to plug holes while retaining absolute confidence in itself.

At the end of Nineteen Eighty-Four, the Inner Party member O’Brien tortures Winston, and reveals to him the Party’s true vision of itself:

“We know that no one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. Power is not a means, it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power. Now do you begin to understand me?”

It’s here where I part ways with Orwell. For a moment, O’Brien has revealed to Winston one-half of what Inner Party members think. Doublethink is the simultaneous belief in the Party’s ideology, English Socialism, and in the reality of power for its own sake. INGSOC is simultaneously socialist and despises socialism. Returning to Goldstein’s book:

“Thus, the Party rejects and vilifies every principle for which the Socialist movement originally stood, and it chooses to do this in the name of Socialism. It preaches a contempt for the working class unexampled for centuries past, and it dresses its members in a uniform which was at one time peculiar to manual workers and was adopted for that reason.”

Orwell creates this situation because, as a democratic socialist, he’s committed to the idea of modern progress. The ideal of equality of outcome isn’t bad, but only the betrayal of this ideal. Orwell critiques the totalitarian direction that the socialist Soviet Union took, but he doesn’t connect this to egalitarian principles themselves (the wish to entirely level society). He therefore doesn’t realise that egalitarianism, when it reaches power, is itself a form of doublethink.

To see how this can be we must introduce an idea alien to Orwell and to egalitarianism but standard in pre-modern political philosophy: whichever way you shake society, a group will always end up at the top of the pile. Nature produces humans each with different skills and varying degrees of intelligence. In each field, be it farming, trade or politics, some individuals will rise, and others won’t.

The French traditionalist-conservative philosopher Joseph de Maistre sums up the thought nicely in his work Etude sur La Souveraineté: “No human association can exist without domination of some kind”. Furthermore, “In all times and all places the aristocracy commands. Whatever form one gives to governments, birth and riches always place themselves in first rank”.

For de Maistre the hard truth is, “pure democracy does not exist”. Indeed, it’s under egalitarian conditions that an elite can exercise its power the most ruthlessly. For where a constitution makes all citizens equal, there won’t be any provision for controlling the ruling group (since its existence isn’t admitted). Thus, Rome’s patricians were at their most predatory against the common people during the Republic, while the later patricians were restrained by the emperors, such that their oppression had a more limited, localised effect.

If we assume this, then the elite of any society that believes in equality of outcome must become delusional. They must think, despite their greater wealth, intelligence and authority, that they’re no different to any other citizen. Any evidence that humans are still pooling in the same hierarchical groups as before must be denied or rationalised away.

This leads us back to the situation sketched in Goldstein’s book. What prevents the Party from being overthrown is doublethink. The fact it can remain utterly confident in its own power, and still be self-critical enough to adapt to circumstances. In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the former is exemplified in the vague utopian ideology of INGSOC, while the latter is the cynical belief in power for its own sake and willingness to do anything to retain it. But against this, no cynical Machiavellianism is necessary to form one-half of doublethink. A utopian egalitarian with privilege is doublethink by default. At once, he believes in the infallibility of his ideology (he must if he’s to remain in it), and is aware of his own status, continually acting as one must when in a privileged position.

How does this connect to that most Orwellian scenario, the permanent hardening in place of an oligarchic caste that can’t be removed? As Orwell says through Goldstein, ruling classes fall either by ossifying to the point they fail to react to change, or by becoming self-critical, trying to reform themselves, and exposing themselves to their enemies. Preventing both requires doublethink: knowing full well that one’s ideology is flawed enough to adapt practically to circumstances and believing in its infallibility. The egalitarian elite with a utopian vision has both covered. If you truly, genuinely, believe that you’re like everyone else (which you must if you think your egalitarian project has succeeded), you won’t question the perks and privileges you have, since you think everybody has them. That takes care of trying to reform things: you don’t.

Yet, as an elite, you still behave like an elite and take the necessary precautions. You avoid going through rough areas, you pick only the best schools for your offspring, and you buy only the best houses. As an elite, you also strive to pass on your ideology and way of life to the next generation, thus replicating your group indefinitely. Thus, you simultaneously defend your position and believe in your own infallibility.

Could an Oceanian-style oligarchy emerge from this process? Absolutely, provided we qualify our meaning. The society of Nineteen Eighty-Four lacks any laws or representational politics. It has no universal standards of education or healthcare. It functions as what Aristotle in Politics calls a lawless oligarchy, with the addition of total surveillance. But this is an extreme. What I propose is that egalitarianism, once in power, necessarily causes a detachment between ideology and reality that, if left to itself, can degenerate into extreme oligarchy. The severe doublethink needed to sustain both belief in the success of the project and safeguard one’s position at the top can accumulate over time into true class apartheid. This is, after all, exactly what happened to the Soviet Union. As the Soviet dissident and critic Milovan Dilas, in his book The New Class: An Analysis of the Communist System, put it:

“Every private capitalist or feudal lord was conscious of the fact that he belonged to a special discernible social category. (…) A Communist member of the new class also believes that, without his part, society would regress and founder. But he is not conscious of the fact that he belongs to a new ownership class, for he does not consider himself an owner and does not take into account the special privileges he enjoys. He thinks that he belongs to a group with prescribed ideas, aims, attitudes and roles. That is all he sees.”

To get an Oceanian scenario, you don’t need egalitarianism plus a Machiavellian will to power, forming two halves of doublethink. You just need egalitarianism.

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Book Review: Return of the Strong Gods by R R Reno

By Ryan Anderson — 2 years ago

One of the rare consolations of the Empire of Lies we’ve found ourselves in is occasionally encountering a sphere of truth. Such an event reassures us we’re not alone and that kindred spirits are still out there, patiently pushing back against the insanities of the age. One such spirit is the American Catholic author and editor of First Things magazine R.R Reno and his 2019 work Return of the Strong Gods.

Like contemporary efforts by Patrick Deneen and the Polish philosopher Ryzsard Legutko, Reno’s is a book which illuminates the errors of the age. It’s a work which neither succumbs to the easy evasions of the left nor to the vulgarity found on farther reaches of the right. Ultimately, it’s a book that rejects the notion that the post-war era has been the best of all Panglossian worlds.

Divided into five sections and written in simple yet succinct prose, the overarching theme is that the West has lost its way in an abyss of openness: that sine qua non of the present day. Opening at the Second World War and surveying the post-war era, Reno traces our failings back to Auschwitz and Hiroshima and the promise that ‘never again’ would we bear witness to such horrors.

In light of such an overwhelming imperative, a rhetorical and practical pursuit of openness was initiated in what Reno dubs the “postwar consensus”. A stance which involved the marginalisation at best – and outright illegality at worst – of the noxious -isms that led us to 1914-1945. Nationalism, militarism and anti-Semitism were what caused our horrors, they were thus to be expunged from the public square.

Put simply, such ‘strong gods’ were too dangerous: they had to be banished from the realm. Yet precisely who these deities are, and what they mean in practice, is rendered by Reno deliberately vague. In essence, they’re the deeper – and often darker – parts of the soul such as pride, envy and a ‘love of one’s own’.

Yet Reno does provide us with a rough definition. As he states, the strong gods “are the objects of men’s love and devotion, the sources of the passions and loyalties that unites societies” – ”Truth is a strong god” as are “King and country.” Not all strong gods are malignant, however: they can just as well “be beneficent.” Still, the chief lesson of the twentieth century was that the strong gods of “militarism, fascism, communism, racism, and anti-Semitism” overwhelmingly “brought ruin.”

To this end, the Western post-war consensus, led by the United States, was to prioritise cultural weakening in the form of a near-unlimited openness. Out were truth, certainty and exclusivity; in were relativism, doubt and diversity. If these trends were ever queried, one only needed reminding of 1945 and was soon brought to heel. The post-war consensus – and its Manichean framing: either ‘openness or Auschwitz’ – was thus brought into being.

A stance that Reno then proceeds to illuminate, beginning with ‘the open society’. A notion coined by the author of the movement’s most emblematic and eponymous work, Austrian philosopher Karl Popper and his two-volume Open Society and Its Enemies. A book which was written in obscurity in New Zealand during the Second World War and in which Popper attacks Plato, Hegel and other giants of the tradition before coming down on the side of openness.

As Reno remarks, for Popper ‘our civilisation faces a choice.’ We “can live in a tribal or ‘closed society’… or we can break free from this ‘collectivist’ impulse and build an ‘open society’”, one that ‘sets free the critical powers of man.’ And as Popper argued at the time, our future depended on choosing the latter: something we’ve dutifully done and which has set in train the decline that’s since followed.

The rest of the book is then an exploration of this one key theme; with Popper’s socio-cultural openness soon echoed on the economic plane by compatriot Friedrich Hayek: he of Road to Serfdom fame. Thus in a strange symmetry, the West ends up with two Austrian emigres erecting the twin pillars of its post-war world: the Popperian commitment to cultural openness and the Hayekian imperative of free markets.

As Reno remarks, these two men were “united by a commitment to individual freedom and a desire to prevent the return of authoritarianism.” A notion that encapsulates the last eighty-odd years as well as any other and that’s been reinforced through organisations like the Mont Pelerin Society, which Popper and Hayek were founding members, and through Popper’s most famous student, and current bete noir of the right, George Soros: he of his own Open Society fame.

Once established, then, the open-society framework of free markets, multiculturalism and the neutering of metaphysics – “The open society must be anti-metaphysical” – comes to characterise the West. A stance Reno then explores in an impressive overview of the major philosophical figures of the era. After Popper and Hayek, come the Americans Milton Friedman and William F Buckley; followed by a return to the German-speaking giants of earlier in the century, Sigmund Freud and Max Weber; before ending with the Francophone philosophers of the latter part of our era, namely: Albert Camus, Michel Foucault and Jacques Derrida.

Yet it’s Weber and his notion of the disenchantment of the world – i.e. the scientific erasure of the supernatural – that helps further explain our malaise. As Reno observes, Popper, following Weber, wants to rid us of the metaphysical. For as Reno adds, it’s been imperative to eliminate “the vestiges of sacred authority that blinker men’s reason”. A stance that many of us have come to believe is benign, yet it’s a trend which Reno intimates is ultimately suicidal as it “drains away the substance of Western Civilization’s beliefs in robust metaphysical truths.” That is, it erodes the religious substrate that has enabled us to flourish.

A posture that has been implemented practically by what Reno dubs our ‘therapies of disenchantment’. As although erasing the sacred is ultimately futile quest, our need for metaphysics can be tamped down by the political order. Something that has been done by “relativizing” such notions, by “putting them in their historical contexts” and “critiquing their xenophobic, patriarchal, cisgender, and racist legacies”.

From this, the cultural imperatives then follow: we must “celebrate diversity”, “cultivate transgression” and “problematize” our traditional ties. A stance accomplished by our elite as they “drive old loyalties to the margins of respectability, and otherwise advance the cause of an open society and open minds.”

This metaphysical poverty, allied with the imperative of openness and the eviscerating force of the free-market, have led us to the current impasse. One witnessed in the apparently inchoate actions of voters in their support for non-establishment actors like Nigel Farage and Donald Trump. That is, in their clamouring for figures brave enough to enunciate the failures of the liberal order and able to address them.

Something evident in what Reno calls the Homeless Society. One which is a natural reaction to the “embattled postwar consensus” and a “rebellion against the dogmas of openness”. As in opposition to the issues of 1945, we no longer face the same problems. Indeed, what ails us now is the direct opposite of that time.

Our issues revolve around an all-pervasive anomie. We are a culture that’s “imperilled by a spiritual vacuum and the apathy it brings”. A society that’s “politically inert, winnowed down to technocratic management of private utilities and personal freedoms”. Our main danger is thus one of “a dissolving society; not a closed one; the therapeutic society, not the authoritarian one.”

A stance Reno expands upon as he notes the economic, cultural and demographic disasters that have arisen under the aegis of openness. A failure that has been overseen by what can only be described as an utterly inept and unpatriotic elite – or as Reno puts it, our Leaders without Loyalty. Indeed, the book can be read as one of the best indictments of our elites yet seen.

Simply put, our elites are hypocrites. They insist on ‘openness for thee, but not for me’ as they insulate themselves from the baleful effects of their dogma. As Reno notes: “For all their talk of an open economy and open society, those in the upper echelons of our society work very hard to protect [themselves and] their children”. “They…choose homes in neighborhoods with goods schools” and condemn “traditional norms as authoritarian, but… keep their [own] marriages together.” Ultimately, “they shelter themselves and those whom they love” from the destructive effects of openness as they praise its putative virtues publicly.

Given this hypocrisy, and the other failings of the liberal order, the post-war consensus is straining under the weight of its contradictions. It’s a case of ‘what can’t go on, won’t go on’ – and the current settings can’t go on much longer. Indeed, the anti-naturalness of the post-war project was inherent from the outset, but only now are the fissures impossible to ignore.

As such, we move back to the beginning: to the ‘return of the strong gods’. A notion that is not only the book’s title, but which was also an inevitable result of the liberal order. As despite the well-intentioned commitment to openness and the promise of ‘never again’, the post-war concord was always doomed to fail.

This is so as it doesn’t accord with underlying nature. For as many have come to realise, the liberal order is one big affect. Although largely peaceful and prosperous, the post-war consensus fails to fulfil a multitude of human needs. Socially, it’s a regime that doesn’t recognise the darker elements of the soul, like parochialism and ‘a love of one’s own’; not does it address the practicalities of life in a political community: such as a sense of belonging, a common culture and the stability we innately seek. While economically, the Hayekian imperative of unencumbered markets has left us as financially precarious as we are socially: afflicted by the dilemmas of the ‘double-dose’ liberalism to which many now allude, and that writers like Christopher Lasch and John Gray explicitly warned.

Which is why Reno finishes the book seeking an end to the ‘long twentieth century’ and a return to the politics of ‘shared love’. Our order failed as it rendered us homeless: lost in a sea of apathy with no place to call our own. As in spite of the left-liberals who treat our crisis “as an illusion” – with Trump and Farage mere manifestations of an aberrant electorate – Reno treats their rise as the logical result of the errors innate to the liberal order.

The mere fact of ‘populism’, then, is not an epiphenomenon of short-term economic or social angst; but of deeper and entirely legitimate “questions about national identity, immigration and foreign policy, all of which cast doubt on the legitimacy of the established leadership class in the West.”

As in advancing openness, our elite has eroded the solidarity we seek. As under our technocratic ethos, vast swathes of the human experience is marked verboten and placed outside the frame of debate. As Reno remarks, our elite “is so thoroughly blinded by the postwar consensus” it neglects “the actual problems we face – atomization, dissolving communal bonds, disintegrating family ties, and a nihilistic culture of limitless self-definition.”

We thus need to return to the strong gods: of love, solidarity and genuine community. It requires our leaders “to ask question they have been trained to supress”. It needs them to realise that, as the philosopher Leo Strauss observed – in direct opposition to Popper – that ‘the society by nature is the closed society’. A notion to which Reno alludes when he references that well-known saw about human nature: that “blood is thicker than water.”

Which in essence is all that is wrong with the post-war order and why it’s now falling apart. As although the initial desire to prevent future holocausts, gulags and atomic explosions was clearly laudable, these events did not to change human nature. That is, a nature which still seeks solidarity and a sense of the sacred; one that sees our “private interest as part of a larger whole”; one with a “love of our land, our history, our founding myths, our warriors and heroes”. Simply put, we need a renewed patriotism: we need ‘to renew the “we”’.

There is thus very little to critique in Reno’s work. Being an avowed Catholic, his remedies tend towards the Christian, which may rankle the less religious, yet he wears his religion lightly and the book is never in danger of dogmatism. There is an argument to be made, however, that by anchoring the book to the motif of socio-cultural openness, other factors, like the importance of economics – and the centrality of economic growth to the post-war era- are not given the import they deserve. There is also an incongruous attempt to smuggle in some American-style civic nationalism that is understandable even though it’s completely contradictory to the spirit of the work.Nevertheless, this is a highly commendable work. Like Deenen’s and Legutko’s, it’s one of few recent books that drives to the heart of our malaise and that honestly elucidates the errors of our age.

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