The end of the world
There is considerable dispute on the date of the end of the world, sometimes even up here in the High Doganate. It is a gentlemanly dispute, however, in which the (aspiring) gentleman who lives here politely considers & then rejects the various alternatives to his own beliefs. I have been doing that all my life. Sometimes I find that I am wrong, but only in retrospect. In prospect my vision is 20/20. Things that haven’t happened yet have never failed to happen. And I have a perfect track record because in every case, as I would be willing to demonstrate, they fail to happen only in the future. Which is to say, elsewhere in the multiverse, not here.
Once again the issue is in the air, for I gather the President of the United States was so foolish as to predict the end of the world, should the “sequester” of funding he proposed himself be allowed to happen on the first of this month. It is wise normally to predict the end of the world for a more remote date; the President was guessing it would happen “tomorrow” on the very eve. Curiously, he had done everything in the power of his office to assure that the end of the world would take place; for like many petty politicians before him, outraged by budget cuts, he made sure they would fall in the most visibly destructive manner on essential government services, leaving mountains of pork & incredible waste untouched. He wants his opponents on their hands & knees, begging him to restore these services & promising to raise more taxes on “the rich” to support them. It is a game so tawdry, & played so many times, that I’m amazed anyone can still be suckered by it; but needless to say the entire liberal media are playing along with his latest “crisis narrative.”
And yet, it is March 3rd already, the sequester has happened, & the world has not ended; just as it did not end at the Winter Solstice, when the ancient Mayan calendar hit 13.0.0.0.0, & nothing followed beyond the usual news & views. There was not even a memorable earthquake in, say, Tierra del Fuego. As we write, south of the border, there is no evidence of a catastrophe yet unfolding. It turns out that even if you remove la crème de la crème of the most necessary functions of the U.S. Government, nothing much happens. The President will have some explaining to do.
Eschatology is not a science we have much pursued (up here in the High Doganate). This may have something to do with our low regard for the statistical methods that are too often employed in calculating the date on which the world will end. They strike us as almost amateurish sometimes. Of the eschatological systems of the great religions, other than my own, I have sometimes taken note from a motive that could be confused with pure self-entertainment. It is not: I think such spiritual insights as each may provide are presented compactly & vividly, in each end-of-world scenario.
Let us consider in passing Frashokereti, the Zoroastrian expectation, which comes to mind whenever I am reading news of anything from “frosh week” in a university to the hydraulic “fracking” of mineral resources. In brief, there are three ages in the world, that of Creation, of Mixture, & of Separation. The first was good, but into the second evil was insinuated. In the third, which is surely coming soon, God, under the name “Ahura Mazda,” effects a winnowing. There is a huge battle between the Yazatas & Daevas (the proponents of good, & evil, respectively). In the course of their exchange, all the dead are raised. Too, the metals of this world melt & flow by tributaries into one great river through which all must pass. No supernatural agent nor force will be able to intervene on behalf of individuals: each man & woman will be tried in the balance of all his thoughts, words, & deeds. The good will find the river as warm milk, the evil will experience it as a consuming fire. The molten stream will itself pour over the ledge of this world, into the depths, where it will find & annihilate “Ahriman” (the very Devil & his Hell). It is an optimistic cosmogony.
Before I receive death threats from aggrieved Zoroastrians, let me acknowledge that this is not from the Avesta, but from interpretive, non-scriptural works. The Avesta itself, or the parts we retain, contain only poetical allusions to this End Time. The most sacred Gathas — hymns attributed to Zoroaster — are in a very old form of Persian indeed (7th century BC?) but the interpretations were written in Book Pahlavi far more than a millennium later (9th century AD). It makes no sense to speak confidently of any Avestan eschatological doctrine; & yet the power in such ancient prophecy can be discerned in resemblances to every other earthly eschatological doctrine; for in all, the worth of men is tested. And on a Zoroastrian view, as from a Christian, it makes no sense to assign specific future dates, or treat prophecy as a prognostic method.
On the other hand, lest gentle reader titter at the introduction of so exotic a body of mythic moral teaching, let me remind him that from Jehovah’s Witnesses, Christian Scientists, Seventh Day Adventists, Mormons, & others, we often encounter doctrines as arcane. Each, to my mind, is the product of very sincere “visionaries,” without “conventional” (not to say, “Catholic”) formation, struggling to convey an experience of unknown otherworldly origin in worldly terms; without first subjecting it to the reasoning of the wise. Then seeking followers among the spiritually estranged & hungry.
For some time in childhood I became a kind of connoisseur of the illustrations in publications of the Watch Tower Society — then as now fairly widely disseminated — which showed the lion lying down with the lamb rather literally, & a multicultural assortment of humans smiling as if they had all just won the Irish sweepstakes. These pictures of an imminent heaven on earth struck me as naïve, & contributed to my youthful, smartass atheism. Moreover, as I was distantly aware, the Society & other congregations of “Christian outliers” had been almost trigger-happy in predicting that imminent end, projected from quite worldly political events.
Yet in retrospect, it seems there is something sound woven into their notions. The significance accorded by the Jehovah’s Witnesses to October 1914 — when Christ was held to have resumed the throne of which He had been deprived by the Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem, & the End Time began to unfold — was well chosen. I myself assign not that event, but something cognate, to a moment a little earlier in that year: to the 28th of June, 1914, when Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated at Sarajevo. The summer which followed consisted of an extraordinary matrix of declarations of war, & acts of invasion. By September, Tannenberg & the Marne trench warfare; by October, Ypres.
The Great War was an entirely man-made, planetary disaster, whose vortex was Europe, then fairly plausibly the centre of everything. Its effect was like Constantine, in reverse. Almost everything we now live is fallout from that War: through Communism, Fascism, Nazism, Islamism, to the effects of mass democracy & the construction of Nanny States. In the background, everywhere, the replacement of religion with ideological totalitarianism, & the moral & spiritual blindness which follows from our new loyalties to the available “least evils.” We entered an era that might be called with justice the Age of the Mass Grave; or if you will, the Culture of Death with Wheels On; or with less colour, “post-modernity.” The evils of the Modern Age came home to roost, among all the false hopes of “man’s triumph over nature.”
One might call 1914 the beginning of the end, but let me credit the Jehovah’s Witnesses for also discerning, while I was growing up in the ‘sixties, the impending end of the end in that decade. Though let me quickly add that, in retrospect, John Lukacs (the historian of Chestnut College, not to be confused with György Lukacs, the fatuous Marxist) put the matter more elegantly in his book, A Thread of Years (1998). This book offered a series of vignettes, from commonplace life, cast year by year from the beginning of the 20th century, to 1969, in which the decline & final extinction of “the idea of a gentleman” was knowingly presented. It stands in my mind as the greatest of several dozen of the author’s imaginative yet authoritative historical works.
Though I don’t entirely agree with Lukacs’s world view, which I consider too Anglophile & Churchillian, I think he offers real insights into what has gone down. In particular, his understanding of the emergence of the bourgeoisie in “Renaissance” modernity, & of its development into the Populism of our post-modernity, is essentially correct. He owes this to an astute grasp of 20th century history. As a World War II survivor himself (Budapest son of divorced parents, a Catholic father & a Jewish mother), personally acquainted with forced labour in the penumbra of the Holocaust, he was able to spot a lie at the heart of historical teaching in liberal academia. It was the lie that the German working classes were opposed to Hitler. No: they were his principal support. It was the goad for Lukacs to expose more generally false teaching.
To say that he despises Populism is almost an understatement. I despise it with some warmth, & Lukacs despises it with more than I will ever muster. There is a crucial question we would answer, perhaps, a little differently. I anchor Populism in the self-worship of man, per se. He, to my mind, is a little too indifferent to this philosophical question, & comes closer to despising it for itself. But for practical purposes, the difference comes out in the wash. We have been led, through post-modernity, by men who were truly representative of “the people,” & not by any of the old, & now demonized, men of aristocratic vocation. The carnage may be attributed to the ideal of “democracy” in itself & in its natural ramifications; to the promise of giving the people exactly what they want, without reference to the better angels.
This democratic ideal, though already eloquently expressed through the bloodletting of Paris after 1789, may be said to have matured definitively by the summer of 1914. One might even call it the greatest triumph of democracy — with mass public demonstrations in all the capitals of Europe, from all sides, demanding immediate total war. In cause & effect, we have this history backwards: again, from the lies taught in our schools. It was not old aristocratic politicians cynically manoeuvring “the people” into war against their will, to serve their own mysterious interests. It was “the people” manoeuvring them, into an Armageddon; one which many of the aristocratic, old school, “balance of power” diplomats did actually foresee, & did everything in their power to forestall, fearing it would be the end of their own class.
But it was not a simple process, not some new or sudden thing, for the history of the rise of “popular” national chauvinism & jingoism goes much deeper. We look here only at the point of combustion, through which the politics of the world were radically & unambiguously transformed, from a degree of self-critical civilization, to a high-tech barbarism incapable of self-appraisal. Within this new world order, that emerged from all the blood lust: an oscillation between the “total war” of conscripting national armies, & the “total peace” of conscripting national bureaucracies.
It has been an apocalyptic scenario, to be sure; & it is understandable that we, in consequence, have come to look forward — sometimes religiously, more often superstitiously — to a nuclear incineration, or some equivalent environmental catastrophe. In our gut, we feel that we may have contributed to this as tiny atoms; but at large it is something over which we believe ourselves to have no control, being mere cells in the body politic, hardly to be held to account. From the train of secondary explosions throughout the 20th & into this 21st century, we expect things to end, inevitably with a bang not a whimper.
*
In fact, the world ended on the 10th of August, 1969. This happened to be a Sunday. People look to the future for an event which actually happened in the past; but I am glad to see that Alain de Benoist, the celebrated French pagan of the nouvelle droite, has picked up on this, over at Occidental Observer. He is the compleat crackpot of course, or cinglé as I believe it is called over there, with a long history of viewing everything upside down. That might be his strength, however. Turn him right side up & all becomes coherent. Meanwhile, let me offer encouragement for the first thing he may have got right: in his essay entitled, “Yes, the end of the world has happened.”
For decades I have held this view against all comers. Indeed, I have held it since the 10th of August, 1969, when I was sixteen. How do I know the date? Because I was there. I remember it perfectly. I was standing at the time in a ruined coastal fortification, from World War II, near New Waterford, Cape Breton. I was up in a concrete tower (once disguised as a church steeple), looking down over a field of blank concrete slabs (once pretending to be a churchyard). It must have happened around two o’clock in the afternoon, Atlantic time; which is to say, about Vespers, GMT.
At the time, I will admit, I was not entirely certain that the world had come to an end that day. But everything I have since read or otherwise learned has tended to confirm my initial observation.
People often ask me what happened that day. “It was the end of the world,” I reply. “You are asking me to mention something bigger? What else could you want? Surely the end of the world will do for a newscast.”
Pressed on the point, of what happened on the day the world ended, I say, “Nothing much.” It ended, after all, not with a bang as everyone had expected, but instead with a whimper, or less. Pressed further, I recall that the LaBianca murders also happened on that day, “But that was sheer coincidence.”
I am even asked what happened to me on that day, as if my own personal fate could have any significance against this world-historical background. “Again, nothing much,” I explain. “The usual adolescent stuff, you know. Unrequited love & all that.”
And nothing much has happened, since; or at least, nothing much good has happened. Forty-three years, & a half, have passed in which people have gone on, not realizing it is over, pretending to themselves that the end of the world has not, in fact, happened. It is obtuse to look to the future for something that has already occurred in the past. I protest against this general obtuseness, & argue earnestly that it must be overcome. We have reached the point of stasis, at the end of the pendulum; we hover there. But I look for some movement, sooner or later, in which the pendulum begins to swing back, the other way.
Working obtusely through what I take to be layers of irony, does your last sentence suggest that the 1969 fin du monde was not irrevocable? If so, would it not be a disruption or interruption rather than an end? And does the date, coming shortly after the moon landing, suggest that the moon was as far was we were supposed to get?
When I saw the title of the post, I expected a treatment of the prophecies of St Malachy, according to which the pope to be elected by the conclave now assembling will be the last to rule from Rome. Some cry “fraud,” but other serious people find the evidence inconclusive or leaning in favor of the authenticity of the document recording the forecast. I suppose the question is not whether the prophecy is true but whether it makes any difference in what we do tonight. If the world is already ended, apparently not.
Once upon a time I calculated what would have to be the size of the world’s sewage system in case the Jehovah’s Witnesses were right and a huge number of immortals and animals, all with perfect digestive tracts and eating fruit and rough vegetables, were to live in poor planet Earth. What about that for eschatology?
Mistah Speakah, you touch so many of my favorite themes here that I am seriously considering the possibility that you’ve been reading my mind. I do believe we have been careening to some kind of end. Personally I am a bit tired of the Marxist fable that seems to have invaded everything (yawn). I do yearn for the times when I was still to be born and so were Marx, Freud, and Darwin. In those clean intellectual environs, to take a stroll down the Oxford countryside along with Newton or Shelley could have been something.
I have news for you. The end is coming but not yet. Our eyes have the privilege to see this terrible time, filled with cruelty and bloodshed but bereft of any noble trait. I know for certain that this kind of world will end because it is in the nature of the culture of death to die. The trick for us is to outlast the present evil.
Why must everything of significance have happened in the 1960s?
It would be paradoxical if the stasis referred to by Mr Speaker had the appearance of the “careening to some kind of end” aptly described by Mr Caso-Rosendi, who, like me, sometimes feels the Speaker is reading his mind. Mr Caso-Rosendi’s point about the natural tendency of the culture of death to die is also excellent. I wonder if somewhere around August 1969 was the point where we tipped decisively against the notion of natural law discernible by reason as the basis for virtue and order, a tip which would have been coming for a long time and certainly since 1914.
My strange little point here, implied not expressed, is that we tend, like the secular post-humanoids, to forget that God may have something to do with the unfolding of our human universe; that this something or these myriad somethings may in their “nature” happen despite our worst efforts; that God is in His “nature” given to Love rather than settling petty scores, & at His most excoriating more likely “permits” things to happen than “punishes with intent.” And as I have observed, things seem almost invariably to turn out better than they should have turned out, given what we did. Grace may not be presumed upon, but its presence is real & is often made visible in the emergence of something like “existential mercy.”
In a puzzling way, Adam Smith’s “hidden hand” is at work in nature. But I don’t think he began to appreciate the “complexity” with which private vices could result in public virtues, & acts selfish & far from good in themselves could result in goods. (Little pun there; sorry.) Nor appreciate that some things he puritanically assumes to be private vices may actually be subtly virtuous, when all context is supplied. This is not, certainly not, to endorse unsaintly behaviour; merely to observe the extraordinary ways in which the sins of the fathers are so often not visited upon the sons, very nearly in defiance of reason.
John Lukacs was my history teacher in college. He guested at La Salle College, which was then still men only, and conducted a history of Western Civ seminar for honors students. I have found his books, The Passing of the Modern Age, and At the End of an Age, convincing.
The problem of dating the end of the world (or at least of an age of the world) is whether the operative date is when the explosion rocked the tower and it began to crumble or when the rubble hit the ground. Something big does not fall all at once.
Over at Just Thomism (“On Apocalypse scenarios,” July 18, 2010), James Chastek raised “the question of whether apocalypse scenarios are too optimistic.”
“When confronted by decadence, authoritarianism, and a sense that one’s liberty is slipping away, it’s easy to comfort oneself with the notion — no doubt supported by plausible arguments — that the system will soon be swept away by economic and political collapse. But for one who sees the apocalypse coming, it is more horrifying to contemplate the possibility that the system might not collapse — and that ten, forty, or a hundred years from now, America will feel pretty much the same as it does now, even after a few more financial meltdowns or wars — or even after the apocalypse. Isn’t there something horrible about this?”
“America will feel pretty much the same as it does now, even after a few more financial meltdowns or wars — or even after the apocalypse. Isn’t there something horrible about this?”
I think this horror ridden optimism is unfounded.
In the foreword to one of the volumes of his autobiography, Laughter in the Next Room, I think, having lived through two world wars, English writer and poet Osbert Sitwell was well qualified to help us peer into the future. Writing in 1948, he used the supremely apt analogy of a chasm, to illustrate the rupture, the place, where one civilization (this one) ends and another emerges. What would a future civilization looking back across the chasm make of us, Sitwell asked. He thought it a good thing that we should never know since, “it is unlikely that we either should see much that would please us or hear much good of ourselves.” He also wrote of staring out of the window and “trying to conjure up the metropolises of the future when men have again crept out of the ground into which they will have been forced.”
We shall see won’t we.
“It is currently said that hope goes with youth, and lends to youth its wings of a butterfly; but I fancy that hope is the last gift given to man, and the only gift not given to youth. Youth is preeminently the period in which a man can be lyric, fanatical, poetic; but youth is the period in which a man can be hopeless. The end of every episode is the end of the world. But the power of hoping through everything, the knowledge that the soul survives its adventures, that great inspiration comes to the middle-aged; God has kept that good wine until now. It is from the backs of the elderly gentlemen that the wings of the butterfly should burst. There is nothing that so much mystifies the young as the consistent frivolity of the old. They have discovered their indestructibility. They are in their second and clearer childhood, and there is a meaning in the merriment of their eyes. They have seen the end of the End of the World.”
~ G.K. Chesterton, “Charles Dickens”
“But for one who sees the apocalypse coming, it is more horrifying to contemplate the possibility that the system might not collapse.”
Someone told me long ago: “The problem my dear is not what are we going to do if Jesus comes but what are we going to do if He doesn’t.” I think the only antidote to the horrible fate of being ruled by a pseudo-Marxist emperor such as Mediocrates of Pedestrium, currently ruling the Unlucky States of Apple-pie, is to be convinced that obviously God is in control. Otherwise we would have blown ourselves to smithereens several times over.
This is merely an opinion but it makes enough sense to start a new religion somewhere west of New York. Let me explain. When Jesus founded his Church on Peter and set the unlikely band of twelve on their way to conquer the world, something started to grow in this world that is not of this world. The Church went on growing but with difficulties (“in the world you shall have tribulation”) because the raw materials were not really suitable to build that sort of organic thing that lasts twenty centuries against all odds. Because of the imperfect raw materials it was inevitable that some kind of echo, some kind of tumor would grow inside or around this organism. The genius of God was to make that bad thing grow to fulfil a good mission. Once the “man of lawlessness” grows to maturity, it will serve as a trigger to signal the world that the process is reaching completion. Perhaps all of it was planned when God whispered to Abraham “this land I will give to your descendants” about forty centuries ago atop a hill in Chaldea. Perhaps the organism is that old. Be patient, I am getting to the point.
The tumor grew and tried many times to gain control of the host organism but it was not the right time. Eventually it started gaining a foothold when the Church was about ten centuries old. The great assault began in earnest about the time when Constantinople fell. We know what it is. It is lawlessness, disobedience. It began as a war on paternity because all paternity emanates from God. The first target was the Pope, then the kings, then the rest of nobility, then the industrious bourgeoisie. By 1914 the hit job was well advanced. The last of the crowned heads of old Christendom succumbed or were neutralized. The tumor moved its tentacles to grab the jugular. At that point a war ensued in 1939 to decide how the New Order (which was really bad old disorder) would work: the main options were unbridled Capitalism, crony Fascism, and oppressive Communism. The war ended but no one really won the prize. The system became a mix of the three contenders. They divided the world and set to enjoy the fruits of the stolen vineyard. Little did they know that their children would grow to be like them. Someone forgot to turn off the anti-paternity device and the children rebelled against … all authority. In May of 1968 the fire quickly grew from the Champs-Élysées to the Plaza de las Tres Culturas in Tlatelolco and then to California and everywhere after that. The monster began to consume itself.
Forty-five years later those kids have reached the presidential palaces and parliaments of the world. Because they are all mediocre and stupid, as all tumors are, they do nothing but consume energy and spew bad stuff, the whole edifice of civilization is in danger of a permanent collapse. We all can see that. They know it too, they can feel they are choking the host organism but they don’t know any other way to survive, they are parasites after all.
What they don’t know is that their growth has triggered the alarm. They cannot hide now from the shiny scalpel of the Great Surgeon. The Surgeon is the one Who started it all and he is also called The One Who Takes Away the Sin of the World. He is about to do just that. In my humble opinion.
Forgive the dozen metaphor daiquiri. Ha!
Just because (Archibald MacLeish, “The End of the World”):
Quite unexpectedly, as Vasserot
The armless ambidextrian was lighting
A match between his great and second toe,
And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting
The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum
Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough
In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb —
Quite unexpectedly the top blew off:
And there, there overhead, there, there hung over
Those thousands of white faces, those dazed eyes,
There in the starless dark the poise, the hover,
There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,
There in the sudden blackness the black pall
Of nothing, nothing, nothing — nothing at all.
Mr Speaker,
The end of the world is one thing, the end of this blog another. Where are you?
We have received reports that every Tuesday evening you choose to inhabit the vast wasteland of Sun TV, or whatever it’s called. (Aside to all American and 99.999% of Canadian Commentatorians of this blog: Sun News TV is … oh, forget it.)
That you chose to desert this august forum without so much as an adios is one thing; that you concealed your desertion from the faithful is another.
Marshall McLuhan, what sayest thou to this artless dodge?
I hereby nominate myself as new Speaker of this House. If elected, I will accept appropriate remuneration. Perhaps had our absent Speaker done so, he would not be out moonlighting with thugs.
But Mr McCloskey, there’s important work to be done on television. Why only yesterday I had to defend the Dark Ages on Mr Ezra Levant’s show, after he rudely compared them to the Canadian Supreme Court.
Perhaps I will post something here tomorrow, for I am much inspired by a YouTube clip I’ve just watched from, “Korea’s Got Talent.”