John C. Wright's Blog, page 155

Faith and the Scientific Imagination

( This piece was originally published (for pay) here in the Catholic Herald as Aliens need Christ’s redemption, too. Richard Dawkins on his website reprinted it without permission (and without paying me), and the comments boxes are filled with vitriol by folk who by their own admission did not read the article. Rather than having Mr. Dawkins maintain the only version on the web, I reprint it here to archive it.)

The Times reports that Father Jose Gabriel Funes, the Vatican’s chief
astronomer, condones the idea that we have fellows among the stars,
Little Green Men, so to speak, who are our brothers in Christ.

Fr Funes said that just as there existed a “multiplicity of
creatures on Earth”, so there could exist “other beings created by God,
including intelligent ones. We cannot place limits on God’s creative
freedom.” St Francis of Assisi had described our fellow creatures on
Earth as our brothers and sisters, “so why can we not also speak of our
extra terrestrial brothers? They too would be part of Creation.” He
said that aliens, like humans, would be able to benefit from the
redemption offered by Jesus Christ and “the mercy of God”.

The newsmen regard this as news only because they are hypnotised by
the concept that religion and science are antithetical, so to hear a
Jesuit Vatican astronomer speculating about science fiction amuses and
astounds them. This is merely a sad commentary on the ignorance of
newsmen, who seem not to know the noble role the Jesuits have always
played in the history of higher education, or what the role her
handmaiden science fills in relation to the Church.

Nonetheless, this little article suggests several questions that lead us to interesting speculation.

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Harry Potter and the Christian Magicians III — Theological Speculative Fiction

A reader writes in to ask three questions:

1. What is the right way to answer the accusation that
the fantasy genre turns kids into satanists/gnostics/pagans? One sees
this argument most used against Harry Potter, but in recent years I’ve
come upon people who believe that the inclusion of magic in a work is so
evil they won’t even let their children read Narnia.

2. Related to this, I’m curious what your opinion is in regard to
what the proper way is for a Catholic author to handle magic in his
work.

3. What would be your response to those who say that all magic ought
to be portrayed as evil or only used by characters who are stand-ins
for God (Aslan) or who are agents of God (as I have seen some argue
that Gandalf is)?

The first question I answered at some length here. The second I answered at even greater length here. Let is now turn to the third.

As with most questions in life, this question is one concerning how
to strike a happy medium between to opposing duties or desires. The
first is the writer qua man and his duty to the truth and to heaven; the
second is the writer qua writer and his duty to turn out a workmanlike
product.

The first cannot be ignored for the second. A Christian writer cannot
become a pagan for the sake of the marketplace while he takes up his
pen. Indeed, if anything, the opposite. He must take up his pen for the
greater glory of God.

There are two basic kinds of ideas: those that demand the total
loyalty of the total person and influence every aspect of life, and
those that do not. In general, the former are religious or semireligious
ideas, and the latter are everything else. (I call Socialism a
semireligious idea:  there is no aspect of a man’s life that is beyond
its reach, neither the use of gender-pronouns nor the use of Sterofoam
or lightbulbs nor the use of recreational drugs nor the abuse of
scientific climatological data.)

For the Christian, no aspect of life is or should be untouched and
uninfluenced by Christ: even the humblest of work, baking bread or
cobbling shoes, should and can be done in some fashion that reflects the
glory to God, and displays virtue. While the heathen might find this
concept remarkable (or contemptible) it is no  more remarkable than
saying and honest man does any work honestly, whether baker or
shoemaker.

The heathens of the modern day who find the concept remarkable are,
it must be admitted, hypocrites of astonishing insouciance: surely more
than half the commentators on literature list subversion of the current
social order as their express goal: they regard the introduction into
the mind of the impressionable reader skepticism about the values and
the virtues taught by Western civilization to be a healthy part of the
maturation process. But a book supportive of any of the basic values or
virtues of our common Western heritage will be denounced as fascist.
Note, for example, the difference between the applause heaped on
STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND, a snide satire against monogamy and
monotheism,  and the opprobrium heaped on STARSHIP TROOPERS, a heartfelt
paean to the unsung virtues of the footsoldier.

Yet neither can the second be ignored for the first. I have an
obligation to write stories that will entertain not those who share my
philosophy, but those who share my tastes, including the honorable
opposition. Can I not, as a Christian, entertain heathens? Their world
is dark enough as it is. Am I to tell them no jokes, no daydreams, no
glittering ideas about the world of the future nor the world of fantasy?

Now, as science fiction and fantasy writer, my employers, the buyers
of my wares, are ultimately not the editors but the readers: their
interest is primarily in hearing a well told tale. They do not want to
be on the receiving end of propaganda or lecture, certainly not coming
from the pens of the disreputable tribe of fiction authors, that is,
men who earn their bread by inventing fables rather than by honest labor
that callouses the hands.

There are exceptions, of course. Fan of Ayn Rand are fans, by and
large, fond of her lectures, and the same is true of Robert Heinlein:
but such exceptional books are written for a narrower audience or by a
wider talent than the norm. Outside such rare exceptions, tales are
meant to entertain as editorials as meant to editorialize, and tales
should be told for the sake of the telling.

Unfortunately, three factors militate against tale-telling for
telling’s sake with no concern for the underlying philosophy or moral of
the tale: first, the Enemy of Man and God and his agents and tools are
firmly entrenched in the literary circles, so much so that to find a
Christian writer among them is like finding an oasis in a sterile
desert. Such few and refreshing shady pools exist, to be sure, but the
uncounted acres of sand stretch bare and lifeless to the horizon. For
every rare and beautiful pool of Tolkien, there are allegedly subversive
writers busily sharpening and poisoning their pens against the purely
imaginary Victorian prudes they see lurking beneath every doorstep, or
watching with narrowed eyes behind the blinds, writers who think it best
to use their dull sword-and-unicorn books as the proper venue to
propagate the latest fashionable causes of the eternal rebellion: and
they are as countless as the grains of sand in the wasteland.

We cannot abandon the literary field to them, or the market, or the impressionable minds of the young, or the battlefield.

For one thing, the characters and situations they invent are dreary,
and boring only except when they are shocking or grotesque. The
cathedrals of modern literature are carven more and more with goblins
and gargoyles, and less and less with saints.

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The superversive Mr Simon

Below please find a comment by Tom Simon on an issue being discussed recently in this space. I add it here both to show that he can say in a paragraph what it takes my rather more mundane mind ten pages  to say, and to urge any who have not read his essays to do themselves a favor starting with my favorites, here and here and here.

Today, as it happens, I was rereading the inimitable G.K.C.’s Tremendous Trifles; and there I found, and paused to ponder, this neat turn of phrase which seems apposite to the matter at hand:

Folklore means that the soul is sane, but that the universe is wild and full of marvels. Realism means that the world is dull and full of routine, but that the soul is sick and screaming. The problem of the fairy tale is — what will ahealthy man do with a fantastic world? The problem of the modern novel is — what will a madman do with a dull world?

I would submit that the magic of fairy tales is the magic of a w ild and marvellous universe; and the magic of the occult is the magic of a sick and  screaming soul — the art of the Elves and the deceits of the Enemy, as Galadriel called them respectively. I would submit that if we keep them clearly distinguished, and reserve our admiration for the former and our condemnation chiefly for the latter, we shall have done our duty as Christians not to aid the Enemy. Moreover, we shall do two positive goods: the good of what Chesterton  called Mooreeffoc and Tolkien called ‘Recovery’, of waking the imagination to the marvels that are in real things, and recalling the divine gift of astonishment; and the good of discernment, of teaching our readers the vitaldifference between the joyous appreciation of wonders and the dry, salt lust to possess and control them. Neither of these goods will they be likely to obtain from any other source.

Harry Potter and the Christian Magicians II — Baptizing Dumbledore

A reader writes in to ask three questions:

1. What is the right way to answer the accusation that the fantasy genre turns kids into satanists/gnostics/pagans? One sees this argument most used against Harry Potter, but in recent years I’ve come upon people who believe that the inclusion of magic in a work is so evil they won’t even let their children read Narnia.
2. Related to this, I’m curious what your opinion is in regard to what the proper way is for a Catholic author to handle magic in his work.
3. What would be your response to those who say that all magic ought to be portrayed as evil or only used by characters who are stand-ins for God (Aslan) or who are agents of God (as I have seen some argue that Gandalf is)?

The first question I answered at some length here. The third, and to my mind most interesting, because it asks the relation of entertaining fiction to theological fact, must wait until another day. Let me gird up my loins and address the second.
The second question has deep roots. To discuss it, we need to discuss the relation of Christianity to paganism, of poetry to fantasy, and fantasy to the faith.
Each of these discussions is worthy of its own essay: unfortunately for any longsuffering reader, I will cover all three points below in one long essay to suffer through.
This second question is by no means new. The question was put AD 797, by the scholar Alcuin of the court of Charlemagne, echoing the words of St Paul in an address to Higbald, bishop of Lindisfarne, where the monks spent more time chanting the lays of Ingeld than chanting the liturgies and hours: “What has Ingeld to do with Christ?”
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Harry Potter and the Christian Magicians

A reader writes in to ask two questions:

1. What is the right way to answer the accusation that the fantasy genre turns kids into satanists/gnostics/pagans? One sees this argument most used against Harry Potter, but in recent years I’ve come upon people who believe that the inclusion of magic in a work is so evil they won’t even let their children read Narnia.

2. Related to this, I’m curious what your opinion is in regard to what the proper way is for a Catholic author to handle magic in their work. What would be your response to those who say that all magic ought to be portrayed as evil or only used by characters who are stand-ins for God (Aslan) or who are agents of God (as I have seen some argue that Gandalf is)?

The second question would require another lengthy essay. Perhaps another day I can address that one. For now, I will address but the first, and I warn the patient reader this is rather a long answer, because the topic is one I have much pondered.

And it is a topic that has been very much on my mind of late, because in the manuscript under my hand at the moment, I have to decide whether the witchcraft used by one of the characters will be portrayed in that background as lawful or unlawful. (I will have to speak to what I decided in the promised next essay.)

Had you asked me this question a few years ago, I would have said that the best way to answer the accusation was with a belly laugh.

No doubt I would have uttered some snark, along the lines of: “If your biggest worry in the age of dictatorship of relativism in the ever-more socialist dystopia of the culture of death during a global war on terror, faithful Christians, is that a witch flying on a moonless night above your chimney pot will cast her Evil Eye on your milk cow, then you must live a pretty stress-free life.”

But in good conscience, I can no longer be so dismissive. Experience has corrected me.

It is bad form to begin with a digression, but a kind reader will indulge me.

One of my best friends in the world is Willy the Witch.

Willy is a perfectly nice fellow in every respect, kind and generous, funny, clever, a good father, a loyal husband, an honest man, big-hearted to a fault. I love him like a brother.

But he is convinced that occult powers are his to command, and the gods and spirits of the unseen world are manifestations of a mystical force that he, by his rituals and disciplines, can harness to work his will on the world.

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Wright's Writing Corner

Wright’s Writing Corner includes a post on chapters and what makes them what they are.

For three weeks now, I’ve been on the last two chapters of my novel. Not because I haven’t written much in the last three weeks, quite the contrary-I’ve been writing with every free moment, putting other things, like feeding the children, on hold. (Okay, I have been feeding the children. They make a lot of noise if I don’t. But I haven’t been doing other things that really need doing. You would not want to visit my house at the moment.)

No, I’ve been two chapters from the end because I keep deciding to add another chapter break, making the distance between where I am and the end still two chapters, even though I just finished a chapter. (Actually, as of this afternoon, I believe I am only one chapter away.but it could still surprise me and take two chapters to get to the end. Or, I could decide that the last scene, which I have pretty well mapped out in my mind, is long enough, once I write it, to merit it’s own chapter.)

So, the question becomes: What makes a chapter?

 

Read the whole thing here
http://arhyalon.livejournal.com/201895.html

Raise the Debt Ceiling!

A Republic cannot survive once half its citizens become convinced that the other half are irredeemably evil when they are merely good-natured and reasonable patriots.

But, again, a Republic cannot survive once half its citizens, convinced that they are merely good-natured and reasonable patriots, become irredeemably evil.

Please peruse this tidbit from the Anchoress:

http://www.patheos.com/community/theanchoress/2011/08/01/the-veep-goes-vile/

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Derbyshire and Christophobia

I once had respect for John Derbyshire, and was amused and edified by his views, even go so far as to buy one of his books: a decision he has given me cause to regret.

It seems Mr Derbyshire has contracted a terminal case of foaming Christophobia. It is terminal in that it kills any desire I have of reading any further words he pens.

Here, Derb reviews a Religion of Peace? — Why Christianity Is and Islam Isn’t by Robert Spencer

http://johnderbyshire.com/Reviews/Religion/religionofpeace.html

This is a book maintaining several things which I would have thought to be beyond dispute in any put the most lunatic fringe of far Left of circles, namely, the idea that Christianity upholds the rational conception of the universe which is a necessary precondition for the scientific method, and that it is fundamentally a civilized and peaceful religion, the root and core of our Western civilization, whereas Islam is none of these.

But no, Derb’s dislike of Christianity is vehement enough he does not say whether he thinks what Spencer says about Christianity and its role in history is true or false, he merely brays his donkey laugh at the notion of defending Christianity from slander.

He begins by he scoffing that Spencer (or anyone) should bother criticizing the morally retarded stance of regarding Christianity and Islam as morally equivalent. Derb says that the two faiths are equivalent in that they are both magical thinking, or, if they are not equivalent, not that many people say so, therefore it is not an issue worth discussing, and annoying to hear it discussed.

Got that? Derb’s criticism of Spenser is that he should not waste time defending Christianity because no one equates it to Mohammedanism, and, besides, Christianity is no better than Mohammedanism. In the finale of his critique, Derb undercuts himself even further, arguing that Christianity is worse than Mohammedanism.

(Even my lawyerly mind cannot puzzle out a way of setting these arguments as alternatives. They appear to be direct contradictions of each other.)

The whole review is on this same asinine and juvenile level, on the same intellectual plane as drawing a mustache in crayon on the picture of someone you dislike.

It is merely bullying and puking.

I cannot think of a behavior better calculated to compel a reader of my sense of honor to go out immediately and purchase said book. Let me see if I have any dollars left in my book-buying fund.

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Drake Equations and 'It Ain't Gunna Happen' Science Fiction

 

A reader whom I will, for the sake of anonymity, refer to merely as ‘Curmudgeon’ (albeit his real name is Homer Snodgrass of 12 Manitowish Avenue, Mammoth Falls, Wisconsin, 54545, and his social security number is 1205-119-8577, and the PIN number of his bank card is 4560) holds the opinion that too many modern persons of the youthful persuasion (he refers to them as “kids!” or “punks!”) a devoted to science fictional ideas as a thinly disguised substitute for spiritual longings.

‘Curmudgeon’ reads and promotes what he calls the ‘It Ain’t Gunna Happen’ School of science fiction. This school is remarkably similar to the Mundane Movement of Really Boring Self-Righteous Left-Leaning Science Fiction, being mostly a list of things that ain’t gunna happen.

Here is a summary of his manifesto:

(1) There will be no colonization of space, either O’Neil or otherwise, for the same reason no one lives in a submarine at the bottom of a trench in the Arctic sea;
(2) we are never meeting any intelligent extraterrestrial life;
(3) or if we do, they will be incomprehensible, so much so that even the question of whether they are truly ‘intelligent’ or not will be debatable;
(4) there will be no faster than light travel – It is not just a good idea, it’s the Law;
(5) medicine may shift where the top of the bell curve falls, but human beings are not going to live much past 80 or 90;
(6) psionics is just magic wearing a lab coat;
(7) time travel is less possible and less realistic than fairy unicorn sparkly magic;
(8) The Soviets and the Red Chinese and Cubans all promised and vowed to bring about modern, scientifically-run secular humanist utopias very much along the lines of Gene Roddenberry’s ideas. (So… how is that workin’ out for ya’? What is the murder count now for the Utopians? Upwards of 110,000,000? Let’s give the idea one more try!)

Now, for some reason, my friend Curmudgeon thinks I am of his school of science fiction. I am not.

In fact, I am a founding member of the Space Princess school of science fiction writing, which, to date, includes me and a writer named Edward Willet: Albeit we two have retroactively included every big name Willet and I can think of into our movement against their will and over their strong objections, if they ever had any female royalty from outerspace in any story.

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Wright's Writing Corner: the Dreaded Blank Page

Yes, some days writing is like this.

http://arhyalon.livejournal.com/199884.html