A few readings I have done recently have me thinking about that gloomiest of ideas, determinism. A three-in-one book review in Modern Age quarterly encouraged conservatives to grant more significance to economic and social changes in charting the course of political history, as opposed to giving almost exclusive import to the parallel history of ideas. He argues the point well in his limited space, but he still rejects genuine determinism to a degree that could comfort the worst pessimist. Meanwhile, in one of the books I am presently reading, Raymond Aron's The Dawn of Universal History, a collection of his mostly 1950s essays on total war, the totalitarian state, and ideology (I originally purchased this one as a college text, but in my effort to get the full money's worth out of it, it's proven a fascinating leisure text), Aron repeats, again and again, that we must beware the temptation to believe that everything which has happened, had to happen, and that the future is predetermined by some factor x.

A great temptation indeed, in an age where widespread a knowledge of mathematics and physics leads some to begrudge mankind recognition of his free will! The news media, for its part, simply revels in the changes to come due to technology and too easy communication. The coverage of the ongoing rioting and protests in response to the Iranian elections credits Twitter and other technologies with making government suppression almost impossible. There are clearly bad things about the Iranian regime (the present cause of discontent, a possibly stolen election, makes one wonder: why didn't the clerical leaders just reject the unacceptable Mousavi in the candidate approval process? For that matter, how came it about that no one did their homework back in 1979, and realized that the creation of a faithful Islamic society, like any political project striving for some higher goal, is hindered and helped by allowing people to elect their leaders?). However, I do not share the reporters' giddiness at the prospect of mass political movements driven by messages of up to 140 characters. At least on blogs such as my own, one has the option of laying out one's reasoning at length; with Twitter, communication without resorting to soundbites and ideological cliches is not even possible. This may perfect the art of speaking in abstract ideology (what the Modern Age reviewer cautioned us to avoid); such a Twitter-powered political order would be a lexocracy, or rule by just a few words. Or in other words, the world as a whole would come to resemble the interior of your local Urban Outfitters. That possibility has to be the ultimate low in the realm of the political.

Are we all doomed to inhabit a society where meaningful communication is stifled by the very ease of interaction, and the prevalence of new technologies favors ever more dubious ideas? Perhaps. At least that seems to be happening with the unrest in Iran. The libertarian, anti-intellectual property Pirate Bay has launched a project to aid the opposition. In such a world, of course, a person could still live the good life, and nurture their mind with worthy letters. I, for one, often gain solace by reading Chronicles: A Magazine of American Culture. The monthly, written from a paleoconservative and usually Catholic perspective (the column by Aaron T. Wolf, a Protestant, is jokingly entitled "Heresies"), is everything the weekly National Review should be but isn't. Heavily philosophical, its articles always serve to lift one's head out of the proverbial clouds of Breaking News, celebrity stories, and other varied flashing lights. [Whether one actually agrees with everything or not. How I was irked when editor Thomas Fleming's recent column, "The Good Life," specifically excluded "Rihanna" and "graphic novels," which I assume includes manga, from such a life. I cannot say I never listen to Rihanna, and certainly see nothing wrong with "graphic novels," so long as they are not all one reads. If there is on excellence I have developed, it is the ability to switch from following up on the struggle among the Rozen Maidens at they try to become Alice, the perfect girl and daughter, to the speeches of Zarathustra or the sober observations of Aron, and vice versa. They can all be part of the complete, good life, which Shinku, the fifth doll, exemplifies, since she reads extensively in her spare time. Like most of the Maidens, she uses French phrases on occasion: who knows, maybe she has read Aron as well.)] But such a life, like the Christian life in general, has to be lived in opposition to the world, out of necessity rather than contrarian's preference. And its difficulty can ward off many who might otherwise follow such a life.

Yet, the history of conservatism points to a possible reassurance that all change will not be for the worse. Actually, my happy meditation began a few days ago, when I was standing downtown in the rain for a few minutes. Water is often connected with death and rebirth, sweeping away the present and christening in a baptismal renewal. I thought of how even the decay of organic matter, often sped up by moisture, occurs because of the flourishing of microorganisms. Water universally vivifies, and torrents of revolution and technology seem to be equally indiscriminate in their effects, even if the most obvious consequences benefit the advance of liberalism. I mean, though industrialization and the French Revolution sped the decline of the old order in the West, it also spurred the birth of conservatism as a reaction. Edmund Burke, the first modern conservative, could never have written his Reflections without a Revolution to think over (happily, Reflections is on the required readings list for one of my classes in the Fall, assigned by the same great prof who selected Aron). The upheaval, destructive and undesirable as it was, made reactionaries aware of the patrimony they were defending, allowing them to understand, and therefore combat effectively, the revolutionary forces and innovations threatening the traditional order. This may be a briefly elaborated reassurance after my reasonable griping, but I can't predict what form such a new awareness would take. Maybe (to speak of society more broadly and not merely the political order) the ever growing disregard for grammar and spelling, not to mention the bubonic plethora of smiley faces used in lieu of words to express one's mood, will lead some to a greater appreciation of syntax, diction, and other elements important to a language. The future of will probably not be quite so glorious as the correspondents at CNN imagine, nor should we expect so a dark night as monochrome as good Thomas Fleming awaits.