Eugene Vodolazkin:

In one of the nonbiblical writings, it is said that the devil, wishing to sink the human race, transformed into a mouse and began to gnaw the bottom of the ark. Noah then prayed to God and a lion sneezed, releasing from his nostrils a tomcat and a she-cat, and they strangled the mouse. That is how cats, who are still a rarity in our land, came about.

Here Prince Parfeny comments:

In Nifont’s text we find apocryphal pieces of information that the modern reader will regard as steeped in legend: I have in mind the story of cats. The details, which show the difference between storytelling and Darwin’s ponderous prose, are wonderful and all that is wonderful is true in some way.

And there it is: the origin of a species, without being dragged out over hundreds of pages. What can be seen clearly here are cats, and there you have them: flying out of a lion’s nostrils, meowing as they flip in the air and land on four paws. Without forgetting their super-objective, they end up next to the mouse in one leap and then scritch-scratch! I say scritch-scratch because I have in mind that the duel was unusual to the highest degree. Did the cats know who they were up against? That’s a good question.

It is true that these pieces of information do not fully correspond with Darwinism but that’s more likely a problem with Darwinism. Its founder simply would not have understood the story about cats. It seems to me that he didn’t know how to smile.

On a serious note. Given my considerable age, I am often asked about my attitude toward Darwin. What can I say? His ear that caught the rhythms of evolution turned out not to hear the pulse of metaphor and (more broadly speaking) poetry. Only Charles’s inability to hear metaphor can explain his pouncing on the Holy Scripture. Only his insensitivity to poetry prevented him from understanding that he was not contradicting a biblical text. I think the deceased now understands that.

James Alan McPherson (1993):

Meanwhile, while we retreat into a debate over which group is more victimized and deserving of close attention, the larger and more important issue remains: just who, even under the purview of the old Roman Jus Gentium, remains a foreigner, and what is left of the Romans who maintain the remnants of the old Jus Civile? The antagonistic cooperation, the creative tension, between the rule of law and a settled code of conduct, could be ripe with human possibilities. The Americans of the coming centuries will emerge, and mature, out of this tension. According to my own thinking, they will be the ones who act, and who encourage others to act, in areas beyond either a fixation on Civil Rights or on the preservation of the more negative and reductive aspects of the white status quo, both of which have produced nothing more than human stasis. They will be the ones who accept the greater challenges and goals of full and equal citizenship, of a higher ethical responsibility towards the human individual, in a space far above and beyond the fires of two radically opposed camps. But after the destruction of most of the country’s large-souled men, and during this time of fear, such people, even if they do exist, have no good reason to announce their presence among us, even if they were welcomed.

A near perfect match for that 1930 Karl Jaspers quote I never tire of:

The truly real takes place almost unnoticed, and is, to begin with, lonely and dispersed. . . . Those among our young people who, thirty years hence, will do the things that matter are, in all probability, now quietly biding their time; and yet, unseen by others, they are already establishing their existences by means of an unrestricted spiritual discipline.

Kevin Williamson:

The “Little Americans” finally are getting their way. I hope they get full—and eternal—credit for the results.

You know the Little Americans. They are our version of the Little Englanders, self-proclaimed nationalists who advocate a smaller, less ambitious, less engaged nation, hostile toward international trade and international alliances, hostile toward immigrants (and, often as not, native-born citizens of recent immigrant background), driven by resentment, sneering at our highest national ideals, demanding to know why all the money being spent in Ukraine or Israel or wherever isn’t being used to fill potholes in Sheboygan or to increase grandma’s Social Security benefits, strangely envious of less important countries such as Belgium or Ireland. It would be a lot easier and a lot cheaper, they insist, if the United States would just give up and allow itself to become just “another pleasant country on the U.N. roll call, somewhere between Albania and Zimbabwe,” in the words of George H. W. Bush, who had bigger things in mind.

There was a kind of sorry consistency to the old-school Little Americans, men such as Pat Buchanan and Ron Paul, who advocated a general American withdrawal from international engagements and international institutions. (Paul, to his credit, remained a free-trader while in public life, describing that position as a “policy of peace.”) Today’s Little Americans have a strong scent of Norma Desmond about them: They expect to withdraw and command at the same time, that the United States can give up its international commitments but still expect to get its way more or less on demand, as though the U.S. position as a big and rich consumer-goods market should be enough to ensure that the rest of the world defers to Washington. (In case you hadn’t noticed: It ain’t.) They are the political equivalent of the old guy in the blue blazer complaining about the corkage fee at the country club and threatening to cancel his membership. Their sense of America’s metaphysical destiny is undiminished, and they remain committed, as only a Protestant can, to the notion that the United States of America is at the center of some kind of biblical narrative. (Some of them don’t know they are Protestants.) But they seem to think the nation can maintain that imperial pretense while living out a nickel-and-dime philosophy day to day. […]

Of course, the Little Americans hate the Ivy League—and Wall Street, and Silicon Valley, and the cities where the people and the GDP are, and Hollywood, and Broadway, and the big New York book publishers, and the newspapers, and the philanthropic foundations, and the think tanks, and the big global companies with the cosmopolitan management teams that create most of the profits and the jobs, and most of the churches, and any institution that has not been mau-maued into making an oath of fealty to the idol of the moment—because they love America, or at least a full 18 percent of it. They are nationalists, of a sort, but nationalists whose friends are all in Moscow and Budapest and whose enemies are all in Los Angeles and Boston. Xi Jinping knows what they are: chumps, albeit dangerous chumps—but less of a danger to his interests today than they were a few years ago.

——

Take in, if you will, the sorry spectacle of U.S. Trade Representative Jamieson Greer.… Beijing, which aims to finish the trade war the dolts in Washington started, has announced new export controls on rare-earth products, including magnets, and has targeted not only the United States but the world at large, empowering Beijing to use selective enforcement of its new licensing regime to make it very expensive to be a friend of the United States. Greer, whining on behalf of the government of these United States of America, protests that that move is “not proportional.” He continued: “It is an exercise in economic coercion on every country in the world.”

I kind of pity the poor silly bootless bastard having to stand out there in the late October wind in nothing but the moral equivalent of his skivvies and pretend that “not proportional” and “an exercise in economic coercion on every country in the world” was not the plainly stated flippin’ policy of the imbecilic and incompetent administration he has chosen to serve for some ineffable reason. Does no one remember the “proportionality” of the so-called Liberation Day tariffs, “proportions” that were simply made up? Does no one remember that the administration targeted every country in the world and a few that were made up?

——

Donald Trump is a man with a short attention span, a toddler’s sense of entitlement, a high-school mean girl’s thin skin, and the approximate IQ of today’s lunch special at Joe’s Stone Crab, none of which leaves him very well suited to the kind of long-term administrative and management work that effective policy development requires. The Trump administration does not do implementation. Instead, Trump simply tries to bully his way through every disagreement, assuming—wrongly!—that, as the president of these United States, he’ll always have the biggest stick in the fight. He thinks he is the president of a country club or, as he himself has put it at times, the manager of a department store, a tyrant overseeing a petty domain in which he can rearrange the lives of human beings, nations, and institutions like chessmen. But even within the well-defined borders of a tennis court or a golf course, the real-world math can get pretty hairy pretty quickly, and the world is not a tennis court or a golf course—and Trump does not understand the game he is playing.

——

Xi is 100 percent tyrant and 0.00 percent fool—Donald Trump’s proportions are somewhat differently mixed. It is strange to me that so many of my friends take that, even now, as a comfort.

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

Are you – Nobody – too? 

Then there’s a pair of us! 

Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!

How public – like a Frog – 

To tell one’s name – the livelong June – 

To an admiring Bog!

—Emily Dickinson

Tipsy Teetotaler:

I counter with “Yes, but Trump truly is worse because he does it right out in the open, shamelessly.” If hypocrisy is the tribute vice pays to virtue, it joins smoking and drinking on the very short list of vices Trump doesn’t practice. Otherwise, his brazenness coarsens every thing he touches and everyone who cheers him. For a guy so enamored of gold leaf, he’s oddly opposite King Midas.

I never thought I would lament the loss of hypocrisy.

Karl Barth:

At all times there have been persons who have managed without this help [of the church]. Perhaps you are among those persons. The church has often performed her service badly. That is quite certainly true of our church and of myself. Of the church, therefore, I can only say to you: “She is there in order to serve you. Do what you think is right.” The church is not Jesus, and Jesus is not the church.

The same holds true of the so-called Christian world view. If you understand the connection between the person of Jesus and your [politcal] convictions, and if you now want to arrange your life so that it corresponds to this connection, then that does not at all mean you have to “believe” or accept this, that, and the other thing. What Jesus has to bring to us are not ideas, but a way of life. One can have Christian ideas about God and the world or about man and his redemption, and still with all that be a complete heathen. And as an atheist, a materialist, and a Darwinist, one can be a genuine follower and disciple of Jesus. Jesus is not the Christian world view and the Christian world view is not Jesus.

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Gilbert Meilaender:

Anselm distinguished a divine disposition from a divine distribution. The divine disposition requires that we go where God wills, that we be obedient to his disposition, even if it should require separation from friends. At the same time, however, the divine distribution bestows the gift of friendship in our lives. This paradox, which Anselm finds in his own experience, is one of the central problems of the Christian life. Earthly affections like friendship are bestowed by the Creator and no fully human life can do without them; yet that same God may lay upon us a task which makes the enjoyment of such attachments difficult or impossible. “The cause of God,” Adele Fiske writes, “may often run contrary to human affection…. Anselm says rather piteously: ‘do not love me less because God does his will with me.’”

God gives both the earthly bond of friendship, which enriches life, and the calling, which serves the neighbor. Theories which rest content in preferential loves or, alternatively, which glorify the calling above all else fail to appreciate the paradox of the divine will which Anselm discerned. The tension between bonds of particular love and a love which is open to every neighbor (in the calling) cannot be overcome by any theory, however intricate. Our thinking can only warn against certain mistakes, certain wrong turnings which we might take. But this central problem of the Christian life must be lived, not just thought. This much, if Adele Fiske is correct, Anselm clearly realized. “St. Anselm soberly faces the fact that God’s will often seems to work against itself, destroying the gift it has given. This problem is solved ambulando, or it is not solved; he suffers and admits it, but does not try to escape by turning away from human love to love ‘God alone’.” The tension between particular bonds and a more universally open love—of which the tension between friendship and vocation is an instance—cannot be eliminated for creatures whose lives are marked by the particularities of time and place but who yet are made to share with all others the praise of God. The tension between particular and universal love is “solved” only as it is lived out in a life understood as pilgrimage toward the God who gives both the friend and the neighbor.

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James Alan McPherson:

For me, the goal had never been economic success. For me, it had always been a matter of personal growth within a communal context unstructured by race. It is a very hard fact of life that there exists no such community in any part of the country. But at the same time, it does exist in every part of the country, among selected individuals from every possible background. But this community is a floating world, a ukiyo, sustained, incrementally, by letters, telephone calls, faxes, e-mail, visits from time to time. It is not proximity that keeps it alive, but periodic expenditures of human energy and imagination and grace. This is what I have now, as a substitution for a hometown. I find it more than sufficient.

Hannah Arendt (1958):

The discussion of the whole problem of technology, that is, of the transformation of life and world through the introduction of the machine, has been strangely led astray through an all-too-exclusive concentration upon the service or disservice the machines render to men. The assumption here is that every tool and implement is primarily designed to make human life easier and human labor less painful. Their instrumentality is understood exclusively in this anthropocentric sense. But the instrumentality of tools and implements is much more closely related to the object it is designed to produce, and their sheer “human value” is restricted to the use the animal laborans makes of them. In other words, homo faber, the toolmaker, invented tools and implements in order to erect a world, not—at least, not primarily—to help the human life process. The question therefore is not so much whether we are the masters or the slaves of our machines, but whether machines still serve the world and its things, or if, on the contrary, they and the automatic motion of their processes have begun to rule and even destroy world and things.

… In place of both utility and beauty, which are standards of the world, we have come to design products that still fulfil certain “basic functions” but whose shape will be primarily determined by the operation of the machine. The “basic functions” are of course the functions of the human animal’s life process, since no other function is basically necessary, but the product itself—not only its variations but even the “total change to a new product”—will depend entirely upon the capacity of the machine.

To design objects for the operational capacity of the machine instead of designing machines for the production of certain objects would indeed be the exact reversal of the means-end category, if this category still made any sense. … As matters stand today, it has become as senseless to describe this world of machines in terms of means and ends as it has always been senseless to ask nature if she produced the seed to produce a tree or the tree to produce the seed. By the same token it is quite probable that the continuous process pursuant to the channeling of nature’s never-ending processes into the human world, though it may very well destroy the world qua world as human artifice, will as reliably and limitlessly provide the species man-kind with the necessities of life as nature herself did before men erected their artificial home on earth and set up a barrier between nature and themselves.

For a society of laborers, the world of machines has become a substitute for the real world, even though this pseudo world cannot fulfil the most important task of the human artifice, which is to offer mortals a dwelling place more permanent and more stable than themselves. In the continuous process of operation, this world of machines is even losing that independent worldly character which the tools and implements and the early machinery of the modern age so eminently possessed. The natural processes on which it feeds increasingly relate it to the biological process itself, so that the apparatuses we once handled freely begin to look as though they were “shells belonging to the human body as the shell belongs to the body of a turtle.” Seen from the vantage point of this development, technology in fact no longer appears “as the product of a conscious human effort to enlarge material power, but rather like a biological development of mankind in which the innate structures of the human organism are transplanted in an ever-increasing measure into the environment of man.”

Daniel Sarewitz:

Seventy years of growing entanglement between science and politics show that the truths that matter most in democratic decision-making emerge from the political arena, not the laboratory. When Democrats sell themselves as the party of science, truth, and rationality, what they are really saying is that if you are rational and believe in science and truth then obviously you will support Democratic policies. But given that half the country does not ideologically align itself with Democrats, this is a hard case to make, and those who disagree with Democratic agendas may in turn wonder why they should accept the science those agendas bring with them. Such skepticism may not be irrational, or even anti-science. Yet it has created a space not just for Trump’s endless effusion of lies, but for the attacks he and his minions are mounting on mainstream scientific knowledge and on the scientific institutions that Democrats had labeled as their own.

Meša Selimović:

I laughed at his discomfort. It was inconvenient, no doubt, but one couldn’t help laughing. He talked of his fear like a child, openly and directly, without any self-consciousness. Fear is ugly when we see it in another.

I wouldn’t have it like that! I’d said, pretty insincerely, trying to encourage him, “A man dies only once.” But now I really thought that way. It wasn’t courage but shame at being humiliated. Fear was the worst traitor, Osman had said. But it seemed to me that fear was the greatest shame in this world and man’s greatest humiliation, raised above him like a whip, pointed at his throat like a knife. Man is surrounded by fear as by flame, drowned in it, as in water. He fears fate, the morrow, the law, a stronger man; and he isn’t what he wants to be but what he has to be. He fawns before fate, prays to the morrow, blindly follows the law, smiles humbly at the man in power whom he hates, reconciled to being a monstrous creation made up of fear and obedience.

If man was sometimes sad, it was because he recalled himself as he was in his dreams, as he could have been, were he not as he was. And if the world were not what it is.

I wouldn’t have it like that!

I said, I am not afraid of you, fate! Nor you, tomorrow! Nor you, powerful man! But this I said to myself, and I said it with fear, half free, split down the middle. One part isolating itself because it couldn’t accept, the other silent because I didn’t want to suffer.