Chairman's Blog
Some worries about Macron's war on Islamism
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| Something nice to look at. Mass at St Augustine's, Ramsgate, celebrated by Fr Christopher Basden, during the 2019 St Catherine's Trust Summer School. This photo is to adorn a new version of the LMS information flyer soon to be printed. |
Emmanuel Macron, President of France, has ordered a crackdown on Islamic extremism following the beheading of schoolteacher Samuel Paty, in the name of free speech. As the Free Speech absolutists at Spikedhave pointed out, however, this turns out to include policing the views of 10-year-old schoolchildren, who expressed sympathy with Paty’s murderer. Given that Islamic extremism, however one wants to define it in detail, is a set of ideas, I suppose it's not so surprising if countering it, in defense of free speech or for any other reason, includes intervening in the exchange of ideas.
The French state also tries to combat these ideas less directly, not only by silencing those who disagree, but by obliging them to listen, or look at something. This was essentially what cost Paty his life. In accordance, it seems, with French educational policy, he had, as Spiked expresses it,
dared to show some of Charlie Hebdo’s cartoons of Muhammad to his pupils during a lesson on why the liberties of thought and speech are so essential to the French Republic.
Bear in mind two important facts: that among other reforms, Macron is outlawingalternatives to France’s state schools (private schools and homeschooling), and that these cartoons are painfully obscene, with Our Lady, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Trinity, among their targets. I will not link to any from here… For myself, if I were obliged, on pain of imprisonment, to send my children to a state school, and if my children were then obliged to view blasphemous anti-Catholic images, then I would not, of course, behead the teacher in the street, but I certainly would not be happy about it.
Another way the French have tried to tackle the world-view of Islamism is by the enforcement of codes of dress and behaviour. So Muslim school girls are punishedfor wearing skirts that are not short enough: well, not just Muslim girls I assume, and indeed nuns in habits can be dragged off French public beaches. The sight of armed police threatening to pepper-spray women on beaches for being too modestly dressed is something truly new which the French have brought the world.
It is obvious that what Macron is concerned about is not freedom of expression in the normally accepted sense of the term, but adherence to a specific set of values, as dictated by the state. Not only that, but showing children cartoons and forcing them to wear short skirts is not a way of tackling their ideas rationally, through argument, but by bullying and humiliation. This is France’s post-Revolutionary, rational, secular, and supposedly freedom-loving state at work. In the words of the Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who was an inspiration for the Revolution, if people’s ideas prevent them from being truly free, then they should be “forced to be free”.
As the history of totalitarianism has shown, such techniques can have at least some degree of effectiveness. If people see the most exalted symbols of their world-view dragged through the mud, metaphorically or indeed literally, this tends to break down their allegiance to them. It can also lead to a violent reaction, however. Since France, for all its faults, is not actually a North Korean re-education camp, there is reason to worry that the present policy will prove to be counter-productive. It is also, obviously, deeply unjust.
It would not normally be controversial to say that showing children indecent images is wrong. It is an offence against purity and a form of child abuse. If the indecent images are also calculated insults against religious figures—showing Muhammed or the Holy Trinity engaged in sexual acts, for example—then in most countries it would fall foul of hate speech legislation, and perhaps human rights protections. It is one thing to say that people should be allowed to publish such images; it is quite another to forcechildren to view them. Indeed, this stands on its head the usual libertarian defense of indecency: that people are not obliged to view it.
I’m not a free-speech absolutist: I don’t think that the free exchange of ideas necessarily leads to the truth, for example. In Medieval Europe Church and state, with varying degrees of success, attempted to prevent the spread of heresy: thought cannot be policed directly, but the spreading of dangerous ideas can be, up to a point. Today the targets of the suppression of ideas are anti-vaccination conspiracy theories and strange ideas about 5G mobile networks, ideas which are considerably less harmful to public order, let alone to the immortal soul, than the ideas of the Lollards, which inspired sacrilegious violence in late Medieval England.
In order to suppress dangerous speech, whether it be the idea that vaccines are bad for you or the Lollard's favourite, that veneration of the Blessed Sacrament is idolatrous, you need to have a conception of what is good and what is bad. Macron’s problem is that his conception of the good apparently includes indecency and blasphemy.
Faldstool covers given to Corpus Christi, Maiden Lane
The Coronavirus epidemic made it easier in some ways to complete the project--a lot of distractions disappeared!--but a lot more difficult to deliver them, since we didn't simply want to bung them in the post. We have finally managed it, Deo gratias.
The Guild's usual autumn retreat 2020 had to be cancelled, but the spring 2021 Sewing Retreat one will take place (we hope) in February as planned, and booking is already open for the autumn Retreat in November 2021. These take place in Douai Abbey, Friday to Sunday, with the Traditional Mass.
Go to the Guild blog for updates, to join the mailing list, or to hear about other sewing events, such as the sewing day taking place in Oxford this very Saturday...
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Sticker wars in Oxford and Edinburgh
After a pause due to everyone being confined to their homes due to the coronavirus, the war of the fly-posted stickers is hotting up. In Edinburgh, someone has posted stickers on street furniture saying, “Seahorses ARE horses. Hotdogs ARE dogs. There is no debate. #WarOnWomen.” Another says, “I © JK Rowling.” Rowling, the author of the Harry Potter series of children’s books, has been attacked for not supporting the trans agenda.
I have seen similar stickers in the streets of Oxford. What the reports tend not to say is that this is a conflict of two sides. Certainly in Oxford, stickers asserting the existence of women (“Woman: noun. Adult human female”) are a response to a long sticker and graffiti campaign by trans activists. Last October, I captured images in Oxford of stickers saying “Oxford [heart] our trans sisters” and spray-painted “Trans happiness is real.” Posting stickers is a form of vandalism and is illegal, as is graffiti, but although the perpetrator was boasting about it on Facebook, where full personal details could be viewed, the local police had better things to do than enforce the law in this case. When someone started posting stickers from an alternative point of view, the reaction was very different.
Seeing lamp posts, poles carrying street signs, parking-ticket machines, benches, post boxes and so on covered in stickers, some partially torn off by irritated humans or the effects of the weather, contributes to an impression of lawlessness and neglect. Along with litter from fast-food outlets blowing about the gutters and homeless people sitting in doorways, central Oxford, which is of course a World Heritage Site, can look pretty slummy. Perhaps the police really do have more pressing priorities, but it doesn’t take much imagination to anticipate the consequences of allowing one side in the most contentious cultural issue of the day to have the run of public spaces for their propaganda, in a city full of students. Yes, someone is going to go into competition.
Read the whole thing.
LMS Launches the Iota Unum podcast series
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| Another image from the Bedford Pilgrimage |
David Starkey attacks the Real Presence
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| The 'commixtum': High Mass for the LMS Pilgrimage to Our Lady of Guadaloupe at Bedford |
Having been “cancelled” by various charities and academic institutions for racism, David Starkey has taken to a new, British, anti-woke magazine, The Critic, to snipe against the “trans” phenomenon, as the champion of common sense against the “experts”. How does he do this? By comparing gender ideology to Catholicism.
In case anyone of intellectual self-respect was inclined to feel sorry for Starkey, allow me to fisk this strange article for you. The idea, you see, is that when transsexuals tell us that they can change sex just by saying so, so the Church says that the bread and wine is changed into the Body and Blood of Christ just by a priest saying some words. This is terribly neat because Starkey can then say that trans ideology is taking us “back to the Middle Ages”.
I should point out in passing that his characterisation of trans ideas is off the mark. As I understand it they take more or less the opposite view to that attributed to them by Starkey: they think that sexual identity is discovered, not invented or asserted, and it is discovered by feelings, not by words. Be that as it may, Starkey’s characterisation of Catholic doctrine is extremely strange. Catholics do not believe that bread and wine can be made into the Body and Blood of Christ by mere assertion: a process, as he puts it,
in which words replace action, the abstract the concrete and pseudo-grammatical structures are imposed (in Russell’s phrase) on “the world-structure”.
The crucial idea entirely missing from Starkey’s article in the action of God: for transubstantiation to take place God must intervene to change the substance of bread into the substance of Christ’s Body, just as Christ changed water into wine, but in this case leaving the bread looking like bread.
In truth it is not clear exactly what Starkey’s objection to transubstantiation actually is. At one point it seems to be the fact that the Consecrated Host still has the appearance of bread: as if it were impossible for one thing to look like another. A crocodile can look a lot like a log floating in a river: if there is a problem here Starkey needs to explain what it is.
At another point Starkey quotes Bertram Russel’s criticism of the notion of Aristotle’s theory of substance, in which Russell claims that substances are subjects of sentences—essentially, nouns—in order to claim that Aristotelians confuse language with reality. But not all the things picked out by nouns are substances in Aristotle’s theory, and while he thought there was a connection between language and reality, the idea was that language and thought reflect reality, not the other way round.
Starkey’s fundamental misunderstanding resembles the idea popular in the Protestant polemics of times past that Catholic theology is super-subtle nonsense and ordinary Catholics are its dupes. This trope may appeal to Starkey’s dislike of experts, but it implies a very low view of ordinary Catholics. The real problem with the polemic, though, is that complex theology and philosophy generally do not lead Catholic doctrine, but follow it.
In this case the point is easy to prove. The use of the term “substance” in relation to the Real Presence did not begin with the followers of Aristotle. In order to be reconciled to the Church, the former heretic Berengarius affirmed in 1079 that the bread and wine “are substantially changed”, and thereafter are the Body and Blood of Christ, not just symbolically, but “in truth and substance”. Yes, it’s all there in Denzinger, §355. When Starkey says that Aristotle’s theory of substance “was adopted wholesale by the Scholastic philosophers of the Middle Ages”, he is referring to a process which began when Aristotle’s Physics and Metaphysics first appeared in Latin, almost exactly a century later.
Starkey refers to Thomas Hobbes’ attack on Catholic teaching:
it took a lot of learning to spout such nonsense. On the other hand, [Hobbes] observed, the “common sort of men seldom speak insignificantly”.
But the Catholic teaching on the Real Presence has always been understood and defended by the ordinary Catholic faithful, the “common sort of men”, because it’s meaning is perfectly clear. The Consecrated Host, whatever it lookslike, really is the Body of Christ, just as Jesus Christ said it was in the Gospels. Technical language was not necessary to convey this truth to Catholics for the first ten centuries of the Church; it became necessary in response to people like Berengarius, or Wycliffe as quoted by Starkey, who sought to turn a simple assertion of fact—a mysterious, miraculous, fact, but a fact all the same—into something terribly complicated about symbolism, which they apparently found easier to believe.
If Starkey wants to defend common sense against the experts, he must ask himself why he has joined the ranks of desiccated intellectuals such as Wycliffe, Hobbes, and Russell to mock the beliefs of the simple faithful.
The new normal
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| Viewing Mass through the window at the back of SS Gregory & Augustine, in Oxford |
Some people are excited about a post-Covid future, since the epidemic and government responses to it have had some good results, such as cleaner air, and have speeded up some processes they regard as positive, such as a move of economic activity online. For the World Economic Forum, which may perhaps be beginning to regret popularizing the phrase “the Great Reset” (too late now), a bright future beckons. All we need to do is “adapt”. Well, I don’t mind if some tedious and pointless meetings in the future take place online, and if that means that some people take fewer long-haul flights, that’s great. But I’m not sure they have really thought about the cost.
Suppose we come out of the epidemic with a much lower tolerance of face-to-face meetings, whether for health reasons or because we’ve adapted to working from home so we can’t so easily go to a meeting room in our workplace. Certainly, a lot of people, myself included, who’d used the internet for video conversations only infrequently up until 2020, have now had to get used to this way of communicating. So, this is possible. It is clear to me, however, that what this means is a greatly impoverished quality of human interaction. It simply isn’t as easy to have a meeting of minds online. I don’t know exactly why. No doubt it is some combination of the loss of social cues when one can’t see more than the other party’s face, the imperfect sound reproduction, the time lags, and the difficulty of inserting oneself into a monologue or conversation, and similar factors, to say nothing of technical problems. Whatever it is, it is real, certainly in my personal experience, at the level of large group meetings, at the level of intense one-to-one conversations, and everything in between. I fear that as we get used to it, what we will be getting used to is meetings where half the participants are playing solitaire and we’re all just going through the motions.
Suppose, again, we come out of the epidemic with a significant shift to online commerce, whether for health reasons, or simply because so many physical shops have closed down. Internet shopping has been a big growth story for years but there was a long way for this trend to go, and the epidemic has undoubtedly speeded up the process. Is this is a good thing? I won’t shed any tears over out-of-town megastores, which already had the impersonality of internet shopping without the convenience. But the swift disappearance of shops where we can examine unpackaged goods and talk to live, human, assistants is a massive blow not only to our quality of life but also to efficiency. Some things you need to see before you can make a meaningful choice about buying. The reason small bookshops and “mom and pop” grocery stores and the like had not all disappeared already by the beginning of 2020 is that they were valued: people wanted to use them. Being suddenly deprived of that option adds nothing to human welfare.
Suppose, finally, we come out of the epidemic, if we ever do, with a significantly heightened concern about hygiene. If people with colds are expected to stay at home or wear a mask, where people hesitate to shake hands, and try to keep their distance in social interactions. We’ve seen “compensation culture” make life difficult for children’s sports and playgrounds, and practically impossible for sectors of the medical profession in some places, so I think such a turning of the dial of risk aversion to an extreme setting is a very real possibility. What would this mean? Certainly, the business model of restaurants, cinemas and the like will need to be drastically reconsidered, and either they’ll be much more expensive, or impossible. More broadly, such a development would affect our experience of human interaction in a profound way. It would cut us off from natural human contact: being close to friends, of getting to know a stranger, of sharing space with people. It will also cut us off from the shared experience of watching live sport, of films, plays, and concerts: to say nothing of the liturgy. The atmosphere, the ability to pick up other people’s responses as well as to have one’s own, to what is going on, is simply impossible if we are all spread out, or online.
I have been talking about consequences of the epidemic and associated restrictions which may follow quite naturally from the current period. Things could be much worse if there are ongoing legal restrictions. I fear that even without significant ongoing restrictions imposed by the state, there will be no “return to normal”. If states step in to shape the “reset”, then anything is possible. It won’t all be good.
Ecumenical martyrs: Letter in The Tablet
John Mulholland (Letters 7th Nov) regrets the lack of a memorial to both Catholic and Protestant ‘martyrs’ in our cathedrals. Having lived with such a monument in Oxford’s University Church for some years now, I cannot agree.
As well as obvious candidates like Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley and a number of canonised Catholics, this large and expensive memorial lists Catholics who took up arms in the local version of the Prayer Book Rebellion in 1549, who were executed by Cranmer’s regime, Archbishop Laud, executed by Protestant zealots, and Stephen College, a co-conspirator with Titus Oates, executed by the spiritual heirs of Laud.
I think College’s name alone renders this memorial deeply embarrassing, not to say insulting, but the alternating rounds of persecution it recalls raises deeper questions. Do we really want to say that the persecutors of the Prayer Book rebels, or of later Protestant non-conformists, or of High Churchmen, were sanctified simply by the fact that the wind changed direction and the law caught up with them?
It is surely a good principle that people should not be commemorated together who would not wish to be. Putting Thomas Cranmer alongside Edmund Campion may make us feel virtuous, but it is an historical falsehood. As Mgr Ronald Knox pointed out, ‘Each of them died in the belief that he was bearing witness to the truth; and if you accept both testimonies indiscriminately, then you are making nonsense of them both.’
Yours faithfully,
Joseph Shaw
Gregorius Magnus, magazine of the FIUV: new edition available
Want a break from the US election?
You can read a good dal about the response of the Foederatio Internationalis Una Voce (FIUV) to the survey of the world's bishops on the Traditional Mass carried out by the CDF earlier this year in the newly published magazine of the FIUV: Gregorius Magnus 10.
Having recently returned from Rome, I can say from multiple sources that what the bishops have said about the EF in their dioceses is not all negative by any means, and no one seems to expect any bad outcomes from this survey. Nevertheless, the FIUV has also presented the CDF with a report, covering 368 dioceses from 52 countries, of the experiences of the traditional faithful, whether in enjoying the Traditional Mass or merely asking for it, to supplement the perspective of the world's bishops.
Gregorius Magnus also has much else of interest which I hope readers will appreciate, including extracts from traditional Catholic magazines from around the world, some published in English for the first time.
It is now available as a pdf here.
Coronavirus restrictions and Mass-going
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| A be-masked Supply of Ceremonies Omitted in the Private Baptism in Oxford last weekend. |
A lot of people are very upset about the obligation to wear masks, particularly in church. Certainly, there is something a bit weird and oppressive about being obliged, nor for any religious or symbolic reason—for example as a sign of mourning—to cover one’s face, and to see everyone around one doing the same. I can’t say I’m happy about my four-month old baby not being able to see me smiling at her during Mass.
Perhaps the public health arguments in favor of masks are justified, and perhaps they are not. I’m not qualified to take a view on that, but equally I’m not one to insist on the most stringent interpretation of the rules where there is room for maneuvre.
What I determined to do, however, is to make the most of what freedom there is to maintain my own sacramental life, and to help others to do the same. The Latin Mass Society is organizing and facilitating events to the maximum amount allowed. Most parishes and dioceses are doing the same. If the Government says something is allowed, after all, then it is allowed.
So, insofar as Mass is allowed, insofar as the normal and worthy service of the altar is allowed, the normal distribution of Holy Communion, singing, confession, and public baptism, then we will have them.
It was a huge relief to be able to return to Mass, after months of watching online, even if this meant donning a mask, sanitizing one’s hands, and keeping a distance from other households. I know, however, that not everyone has embraced the chance to return to Mass—not only the sick and vulnerable—and some who did so at first have become weary, or angry, about the continuing restrictions. The more zealous Catholics, perhaps those reading this article, are not easily put off meeting Christ in the liturgy, and receiving Him in Holy Communion, but perhaps it is also the more zealous Catholics who are most sensitive to the restrictions. When we are in God’s house, there is something particularly painful about feeling one is under irksome, invasive, and possibly arbitrary and absurd regulation from the secular power. There is something offensive about it.
What I would like to say, however, is that we should not be put off. The way to respond to these restrictions is to do the most we can, within them, and not to let them stop our devotions. We can, also, complain to those responsible for them, and remember that such complaints have not entirely been in vain up to now.
Thus, after a lot of debate and upset the Catholic Bishops of England and Wales seem to have accepted that they can’t stop people receiving Holy Communion on the tongue, at least ‘outside Mass’—even if that just means immediately after Mass. Don’t expect them to admit publicly they were wrong: just pocket the concession.
Even more impressively, when the UK Government announced that public liturgies would again be banned, the President and Vice President of the Bishops’ Conference wrote a letter of protest: a sharp contrast to their attitude in the first lockdown, when they actually advised the Government to impose a ban on public services.
For the moment at least, these are battles English Catholics have won. We should be happy about that, and press for more concessions. This isn’t the moment to give up on going to church altogether.
Our priests, applying these rules—perhaps absurd, perhaps oppressive—are certainly not doing so to annoy us or to restrict our access to the Sacraments. They can be, and in some cases have been, denounced, to the police, to hostile media, and to their bishops, for real or imaginary infringements of the rules. We share the planet, unfortunately, with people who are frightened, perhaps irrationally, about the virus, and also with people who will use any weapon which comes to hand against the Church, or those they dislike within her. If priests have to do some silly things to give us the sacraments, think of the priests of penal times wearing disguises, or pretending to be the gardener.
Many of our predecessors in the Faith risked their freedom or even their lives to attend Mass. Some went into exile. Some travelled long distances on foot. Their privations should instruct us: we should not give up the Mass lightly, because we think masks unjust or annoying.
It is also something we owe to our priests. They need our support, financial, and even more, moral. If they take a different view from us, even about something as important as the reception of Holy Communion, we can go to other parishes, certainly, but we must also respect their sincerity, and equally their limitations. Yes, they may be weak: so are we all. As St Paul exhorts us, ‘bear ye one another’s burdens; and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ’ (Gal 6:2). And we must embrace the sufferings which come to us in our ordinary lives, and with St Paul, ‘rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for his body, which is the Church’ (Col 1:24).
UK Government consults on regulating home-education
From an email
This will inevitably result in state interference in what and how parents teach their children at home, in the same way that the RSE and LGBT agendas have been imposed on schools.
The Christian Institute have produced a very good short briefing on the matter setting out the key issues at stake and suggestions of best way to respond in the consultation:
https://www.christian.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/Home_Education_briefing_Oct20.pdf
The consultation itself is here (I understand the proposals only apply to England though anyone can respond):
https://committees.parliament.uk/call-for-evidence/255/home-education/