Wednesday 8 December 2021

"Essays on Catholicism, Liberalism, and Socialism" by Juan Donoso Cortes – Book 1, Chapter 1 Reflections

"Essays on Catholicism, Liberalism, and Socialism" by Juan Donoso Cortes – Book 1, Chapter 1 Reflections

I don’t pretend to go into reading Donoso Cortes’ magnum opus with any expertise – I know virtually no Hispanophone literature of the time, with my knowledge of “conservative reaction” being defiantly Anglophone. But I got a POD photocopy of McDonald’s translation, so here we are.
 
I’m going to write a summary of each chapter as I understood it, plus some notes on specific points. I think these will be useful in cementing my learning, at least. God willing this’ll be of use to others!
 
Book 1, Chapter 1 Summary
Donoso quickly establishes that this work is polemical, in the sense that it is polemos, war; rhetorical war, but war, and therefore direct and aimed at “destroying obstacles” (2 Corinthians 10.5). This first chapter, I take it, has two rhetorical aims: to establish theological truth as grounding any other truth; and to establish the Roman Church as the receptacle of ultimate theological truth. The obstacles he immediately sets himself up as seeking to destroy are any sort of indifferentism and, consequently, any opposition to the Roman Church. This presumably will form a strong subject of the book as a whole.
 
Donoso does not seek to establish some other first principle and from that infer that theology “embraces all things”, as he puts it. His chapter summary is “How a great question is always involved in every political question”, and he seeks to establish this in the very first paragraph. He wryly quotes Proudhon discovering that theology is involved in politics, before simply frankly stating that theology, as “the science of God”, “embraces all things”. This is a statement of pure necessity – if theology is the science of God, then ipso facto it embraces all things.
 
This is not beggaring the question. Any presuppositionalist argument necessarily states as fact its first principle, because without the first principle nothing else can be comprehensible. Van Til put it this way: “we reason from the impossibility of the contrary”. As the self-evident only explanation for the universe is God (thus, say, St Paul in Romans 1), there is no need to prove this beyond the statement of its self-evidence. This Donoso goes on to state in a hymn of praise of (in this translation at least) real beauty.
 
All truth is in God and apprehended through God. Donoso infers from this that where faith diminishes, so does truth. There is not a separate autonomous mode (perhaps given by God, perhaps not) where someone can simply know truth. Yes, Donoso says, God does by common grace preserve some portion of truth to those who do not believe; but even here there is necessarily “the extravagance of the human intellect” in the sense of decadence, of autoolatry, of self-deception precisely through great knowledge. Ages of great knowledge without God are “less luminous than inflamed”. Ultimately, these great ages of wisdom are greatly deceived, greatly lacking in truth.
 
This plainly applies to political questions, too. Political and social science, Donoso says, are not independent things; they are at best descriptions of theological functions. “Man in his weakness distinguishes what is united in God in the simplest unity.” Secularism – including the secularism of many sincere Christians – is ultimately a category error. There is no realm of “the world” opposed to the realm of God (no Non-Overlapping Magisterium). The secular priests of the medieval church, one might say, were in the world (saeculum) on behalf of God; the secularist priests (philosophers, mock-scientists, political thinkers) of the modern age are of the world and against God.
 
“Theology, in its most general acceptation, is the perpetual subject of all sciences, as God is the perpetual subject of all human speculations.” Everything is ultimately theological. Politics, as Proudhon was perplexed to discover, is always theological.
 
With this established Donoso turns to the second of his summary arguments – that the highest receptacle of theological truth is the Roman Church. He does this, intriguingly, not by mere statement, but by a sort of theory of religions. He draws out – in high rhetorical style – the chief features of what he sees as “Eastern” and “Western” religion. Eastern religion is austere, wise, meditative, transcendent, silent; Western religion is heroic, earthy, immanent, harmonic.
 
Pre-Christian Rome is where the two meet, via the Etruscan religions – it has gods, but it has austerity. Pagan Rome is where the true insights of pagan religions meet; it is already the centre of the world, even though it never conquered India or China, because it has approached closest to true understanding. “From Sparta  she has severity; from Athens, culture; from  Memphis, pomp; and grandeur from Babylon and Nineveh. In a word, the East is the thesis, the West its antithesis, and Rome the synthesis.”
 
But this is all upset by a revolting blasphemy, a bizarre inversion, a Child born in a Stable. Jesus may have been acceptable if merely “political”, promising liberation for Israel, but He was also ethical, calling for the toppling of proud hypocrites. And so Caiaphas – the high priest of true religion – and Pilate – the representative of lawful authority, the representative of the centre of the world – came together in judgement. Donoso argues that Pilate’s propensity to mercy is actually an action out of ignorance – he thinks Jesus merely “religious”, where Caiaphas rightly understands that Jesus is ultimately political, will ultimately doom the political settlement of Rome and Judea and everywhere else. Indeed, this finds some backing in the Johannine telling of the Passion, and Caiaphas’ true prophecy there. Pilate – open to exercising mercy, but ultimately “immortal type of corrupt judges” – goes along with this. Jesus is crucified, and “everything as at rest for a moment”.
 
But then signs and wonders multiplied, Jerusalem fell, disasters struck Rome, Kings paid obeisance to the Cross – this is how Donoso ends the chapter. But what happened to produce this? “Nothing . . . only some new theologians  are going about the world announcing a new theology.”
 
Book 1, Chapter 1 Quotes and Miscellany
“Theology, inasmuch as it is the science of God, is the ocean which contains and embraces all sciences, as God is the ocean which contains and embraces all things.” – Theology, the Queen of the Sciences!
 
“This explains why, in proportion to the diminution of faith, truths diminish in the world . . . The diminution of faith, which produces the diminution of truth, does not necessarily carry with it the diminution, but rather, the extravagance, of the human intellect.” – Not a contradiction in logical terms, but this seems a rhetorical weakening – except that Donoso wants to point out that earthly wisdom does not equate to ultimate truth or a virtuous mind. The extravagance is what produces the diminution.
 
“The adorer of the infinite substance is condemned to a perpetual slavery and an infinite indolence; the desert will be for him something more sublime than the city, because it is more silent, more solitary, more grand; and yet he will not adore it as his god, because the desert is not infinite.” – Of “Eastern religion”. We may niggle at the traditional cliché of Oriental indolence, but the identification of the flaw of any pure expression of the Vedic religions is precise. The concept of the transcendent is magnificent, but alone it lacks two things: actual infinity, and sociability. The Triune God is actually infinite, Creator not created; not a concept but three Persons; adorable as God, not idea. Yet the Triune God is also sociable, sociable in Godself but also by the Son’s Immanence as Christ.
 
“[Of Western religion:] In this multitude of cities and of gods all will be disorder and confusion. Men will have in them something heroic and divine, and the gods, something terrestrial and human. The gods will give to men the comprehension and instinct of the great and the beautiful, and men will give to the gods their discords and their vices. There will be men of lofty fame and virtue, and incestuous and adulterous gods.” – The Eastern religion, in this sketch, is magnificently static and silent; the Western religion is music and dance, but only that, and so all falls to confusion. The Western religion desacralizes the gods, as the Presocratics, Socrates, and Plato all lamented. Yet it undeniably affirms the sociability necessary to virtuous life, and endows human life with something holy, something heroic.
 
Donoso calls those who judged Jesus’ fate “the unprejudiced and enlightened people of that age”, who would have forgiven Him a message of vague spirituality with a hint of political liberation, but could not forgive Him His message of spiritual liberation by penance, seeing as it made an existential demand upon them. Here he obviously and openly targets contemporaries. (Spanish Liberals, perhaps? Amongst many others.) The self-titled Enlightened, the self-titled unprejudiced, are those who “suppress the truth” (Romans 1.18) to hide their prejudices and their own obscurantism.
 
“ ‘Give to God what belongs to God, and to Caesar what belongs to Caesar’ – which was the same as – ‘I leave you your Caesar, and I robe you of your Jupiter’” – A lovely exposition, and a powerful insight. This concerns the Roman tribute, and whilst Jesus did not rob any Law-abiding Jew of Jupiter – they did not know him – His division of spheres necessarily topples Jupiter. Though it was the Jews who saw Jesus as a blasphemer, it was the Roman gods He truly blasphemed, if one can blaspheme a fiction.

Tuesday 28 September 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Weeks 9-11 (17th August-4th September 2021): Sick Chickens and Holiday

Week 9
17th August 2021
Brief trip to put chickens to bed. No egg from the Gingernut Ranger hen for over a week, now. Production in general is down, so it may be a hormonal issue related to it being so cloudy (chickens are stimulated to lay by light), or it may be something else.
 
5 eggs

18th August 2021
Helen reports (somehow unsurprising) the Gingernut Ranger hen is ill – sluggish, uninterested in doing much. I visit twice through the day, and watch her actively seek out water to drink – so I make sure there is apple cider vinegar in our water containers, to help stimulate her immune system. Hard to judge the problems – chickens just have problems sometimes, and they usually die. The cost of healthcare is so disproportionate to the market value of a layer that it’s not viable for a working animal.
 
4 eggs, 1 large Black Beauty courgette, 1 small Black Beauty courgette, misc onions, 5.82oz blackberries

19th August 2021
Ginger continues to stick around, and if anything by my evening visit is more mobile – I chivvy her out from a corner where she’s sheltering and she almost runs! She probably has an infection of some kind – she is thirsty but not doing much else – and has, perhaps, a 20% chance of survival. We can’t do much more than we can, but I’m rooting for her.

4 eggs, 1 large Black Beauty courgette, 2oz blackberries, 1 small strawberry
 
20th August 2021
I start harvesting Main crop potatoes, as some are showing above the surface. Mostly red, only a few of great size. Most of the plants are dead, too. May just need to pull them all before we leave on holiday.
 
4 eggs, 2 small strawberries, 1lb 2.65oz Main potatoes, 16.8oz blackberries
 
21st August 2021
Big final harvest before we go, most notably finishing off the Main crop potatoes. The plants are basically all dead above ground, and the issues with shallow and compacted soil mean that erosion will likely expose all that’s left before we’re home, turning it green.
 
The Main crop is, really, disappointing – about 16 potatoes went in and about 30-40 decent ones came out, or something like that. I think they lost their best growth to the poor middle summer, where the Earlies – despite having the strange spring to cope with – just had more time to get going.
 
4 eggs, 3 small strawberries (0.1oz), 2 blackberries (0.2oz), 6 French Breakfast radishes, 3lb 7.25oz Main potatoes, 2oz Early potatoes, 1 Golden Zucchini
 
22nd August 2021
A hurricane of preparation as head off to see family for a fortnight. This is really too long in most circumstances to leave even such a small patch as ours – produce scales, but time does not. The chickens still need daily care, the plants still need watering (at this time of year), and so forth.
 
With a little difficulty we arrange “farm”-sitting, leaving the chickens with extra food, watering whatever needs watering now, and so forth. Then we’re off.
 
5 eggs
 
Holiday (Weeks 10 and 11) – 23rd August-4th September 2021
Our farmsitters keep collecting eggs and courgettes whilst we’re gone (all the crops listed below were harvested in August and will go into that set of accounts; eggs will be split between months per day of collection).
 
The Ginger hen dies. She had rallied a little, and was initially fine whilst we were away, but a week on she faded and then within a day had died. This didn’t surprise us, nor – frankly – upset us. It’s a stressor removed. We were not as ruthless as many smallholders would have been with a sick, non-laying bird, but ultimately, our chickens are there to produce for us, not to be pets. We looked after her; it’s a shame she died; but we move on.
 
At my in-laws, I am left in charge of harvesting from the vegetable patch at the end of the garden. There are a few Aquadulce broad beans left, as well as plenty of Scarlet Emperor runner beans (in fact, they’re only really hitting their crest at this point). I even salvage discarded, overlarge runner bean pods from the compost. I shell them, and we blanch and freeze them alongside the broad beans – they can be cooked together as a bean mix, even though the pods were past eating.
 
We get back at dusk on the Saturday, and I check in on the chickens, who are a little (but not desperately) hungry. Probably they’ve struggled for food on and off since we’ve been away, due to the vagaries of visit timing – they have been looked after well, but both greater experience with them and skin in the game mean you get there more often and judge more quickly what they need.
 
46 eggs, 1 large Black Beauty courgette, 2 large Di Nizza squashes, 1 large Golden Zucchini courgette, ~900g blackberries 

Friday 20 August 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 8: 10th-16th August 2021

10th August 2021
A visiting friend comes down to see the allotment. He has just moved house, and grew strawberries and vegetables in his old garden; the landlady’s “gardeners” had destroyed the last of his harvest as he left by dumping cut grass and branches on the strawberries, and had cut down growing potato plants. There is something strongly metaphoric here – a man rents a patch, improves it, grows a harvest, but ultimately is not allowed to have ownership over the land he improves. Loss of the commons and enclosure come to mind.
5 eggs, 2 large Golden Zucchinis, 2 French Breakfast radishes, 1.75oz Ruby Lights chard

11th August 2021
The tomatoes have had a late surge in pollination – suddenly dozens of extra fruit have appeared! Despite being in a north-facing yard, they are doing reasonably – the warmth of the adjacent house helps. My estimates of how many fruits we’ll end up with have gone from more, say, 30-40, up to 60 or so – from disappointing (but breaking even) to beginning to profit on seeds sown, even if only by a little.
 
6 eggs, 1 large Golden Zucchini, 1 small De Nizza courgette

12th August 2021
Twilight working, with the harvest continuing to roll in. The Golden Ranger hen is very broody, and often sitting on the eggs – that is, she gathers them and sits on them in the middle of the coop, not even in the nestbox! We may have to deal with this, as broody hens can cause problems for the other hens laying.
 
Earlier in the day, Joe (4) picks his first radish from the pot of radish and lettuce he and Zeb (2) sowed last month.
 
7 eggs, 1 French Breakfast radish, 2.1oz Welsh onions, 1 small Golden Zucchini, 1 large Golden Zucchini, misc onions, 1.8oz Meteor peas (0.6oz shelled), 1.2oz blackberries
 
13th August 2021
The blackberries continue to beg to be picked, and the branches lie heavy on the bushes. We have several that overhang only our patch, which are therefore solely our crop – shared with the birds, of course. Given the relative value of soft fruit, this is an incredibly efficient activity. A few minutes for an ounce, say – 28g. 150g costs £2 at Tesco. 15 minutes for £2 – pretty much minimum wage, but of course this is all off your own back, with the food going directly to your table or freezer.
 
I also spot some uncovered Earlies, and set straight to – leaving them till tomorrow means losing more to green weight.
 
4 eggs, 5lbs8.375oz Early potatoes, 1.64oz blackberries, 0.25oz raspberries
 
14th August 2021
A few poor condition courgettes come home – every chance they’ll both end up going to the chickens – but one is our first of whatever the Scallop variety we grew. I also pick a very small but ripe strawberry from the plants at the allotment – the ones at home have both struggled from drouth but also, as far as I can tell, pollinated very poorly, so even where fruit developed there were basically no seed-cells to grow to fruit. Exciting to think that next year we should have a healthy crop of fruit.
 
5 eggs, 1lbs11.5oz Early potatoes, 1 small Golden Zucchini, 1 very small Scallop courgette, 1.375oz blackberries, 1 small strawberry
 
15th August 2021
A second hen (the bantam) has started to brood on the eggs. We really need to dip their bottoms in water and discourage this.
 
4 eggs, 0.63oz blackberries
 
16th August 2021
Our 4-year-old comes down with me after dinner and works with me for an hour and a half. Some of this is self-directed – he starts to fill a hole in the perennial bed (a job that needed doing, actually), he uses some grass shears to cut weeds – whilst some is under direct instruction (he sows radish seeds with me; he helps herd the chickens to bed; he cuts chard under my direction). Why shouldn’t he both contribute to the household now and gain competencies and confidence?
 
In time we want to give the kids their own chance at “businesses” – next year, perhaps, we’ll set up a quail shed and work on it with our 4-year-old, at first – he can collect eggs and help with feeding and cleaning, and in time (when he’s 6 or 7, say) take it over fully. We can then sell the eggs, and he (and any siblings who join him) can split the profits with us.
 
We drop off a food box to the family who sometimes work the allotment with us: 15 eggs, 2 courgettes, half a bag of chard, 5 radishes, a couple of heads of lettuce. Abundance.
 
5 eggs, 4.5 Beauregard lettuce heads, 1 large De Nizza courgette, 1 large Golden Zucchini, 5 French Breakfast radishes, 1 bag of Ruby chard, 0.77oz Meteor peas (0.28oz shelled), 1lbs1oz Early potatoes, 3.84oz blackberries, 1.5oz Welsh onions

Friday 13 August 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 7: 3rd-9th August 2021

 3rd August 2021
Twilight working (and darker than that by the end!). Even when facing challenges, working outside is usually so therapeutic. The feedback loops on the land are direct and comprehensible; some are slow, yes, but none are utterly abstruse, as so many human interactions can be. The seed goes in to the ground, and grows or fails to grow. You can narrow it down to a few possible causes – next time, you can mitigate against them, if imperfectly.
 
Weeds grow because the soil is fertile and the crop does not totally dominate it – so you must act as a browser (feeding your compost or your chickens) to preserve your harvest.
 
Insects and birds and moulds attack in fairly predictable ways and at fairly predictable times (though the wild seasons of 2021 have been their own challenge). You cannot prevent their partial success, but you can work symbiotically with your gardens to further your joint existence – food for you, space for the crops.
 
And the result of this travail is, by the grace of God, harvest. Tonight was a harvest night. A De Nizza courgette, really turned to marrow; several smaller cucurbits; all the remaining small lettuce plants (with the remaining heads being larger than a shop-bought one!); and a basket full of radishes, some as big as a cricket ball.
 
Some, like the radishes, have taken virtually no effort or care – sow, weed, water, repeat. The lettuce needs protecting from slugs too. The courgettes have gone from seed tray to bigger pots to beds here, and need ongoing aid beyond the usual – management of damaged stems, keeping fruit off the ground, and so forth. But of course, it’s fair to say the general value of the harvest goes up alongside – radishes are very tasty fresh, but are chiefly really a chop-in vegetable for stir frys or roast veg trays thereafter; lettuce is fresh and tasty but light; courgettes, on the other hand, can provide real bulk to a meal, all whilst tasting rich and luxurious.
 
By electric light I continue work at home in the yard, trying to help our tomatoes along. Despite poor pollination – widely reported by other growers this year – I think we are still on course to turn a comfortable, if not large, profit on our seeds. Tomatoes are hard, but given they can grow to maturity in the North-East of England, they can’t be that hard! We’ve avoided blight this year, too, which ruined our crop last year. However, we need some sun now to ripen the harvest. I help by trimming dying branches and leaves, and I even pot up some small but fruitful plants (very late in the season, I know!) to help them with their nitrogen needs. The mini-greenhouse plants have grown vigorously, but have struggled even more with pollination than the main crop; I identify only one sizable fruit on any of the ten or so plants, though I imagine a couple more will come through in time.
 
6 eggs, 2 cherry Tomatoes (0.4oz), 1 very large De Nizza squash, 2 small De Nizza squash, 1 small Golden Zucchini, 4 Beauregard lettuce heads (equivalent), 15 French Breakfast radishes
 
4th August 2021
I spend another therapeutic time at the allotment, though shorter this time. I shuffle the Golden Ranger – and this time find an egg! So she is not eggbound, just slow in production. Partly the weather will be a factor, but I really rather suspect her historic injury has left her less vigorous.
 
I also find a miracle bean! Low on one of the (mostly dead) plants I find a rusted bean pod with a very thick centre. At home, sure enough, the outer beans are tiny and shrivelled from infection, but the central pod has grown an absolutely enormous bean. I’ll count it as a little redemption.
 
The potatoes today are mostly brown, but need picking as the earth erodes round the dying plant.
 
6 eggs, 17 raspberries (42.5g), 14oz potatoes (green weight included), 0.56oz Aquadulce broad beans (0.1oz shelled)
 
5th August 2021
Helen brings in a healthy harvest today, including another very large De Nizza, really a small marrow.
 
Brief trip to encourage the chickens to bed in the evening. Fewer eggs today than normal; part coincidence, perhaps, but also reflective of consistently grey weather. I also take the first blackberry of the year – still slightly sharp.
 
4 eggs, 2 large Black Beauty courgettes, 1 small Golden Zucchini, 1 very large De Nizza squash, 1 large De Nizza squash, 1 small De Nizza squash, 7 raspberries (17.5g), 1 blackberry
 
6th August 2021
Again I go to the chickens to chivvy them to bed after finishing work in the evening. I shore up a potato ridge – I’ll need to harvest some of those tomorrow to prevent greening. With the plants having died back, the ridges are eroding, and the most exposed potatoes are no longer covered by the plant’s leaves.
 
7 eggs
 
7th August 2021
I harvest a lot of the remaining Early potatoes, with very little green weight (the only ones really suffering are tiny nodules which had, at any rate, begun to sprout; I might even keep the biggest of these as a sample seed for next year).
 
The sheer weight – 9.6kg, 21lbs – is encouraging. Concentrated carbohydrates to bring us through the winter. But potatoes – like virtually all harvested foods – has expiry risks, so I’ve bought some hessian sacks for storage under the stairs to prevent greening and sprouting.
 
4 eggs, 21lbs 3.3oz Early potatoes
 
8th August 2021
Aside from collecting eggs and chivvying chickens, I go and pick up most of the remaining peapods. They’re still going, though – there are even still a few flowers. Peas keep flowering as long as you crop them – it’s why sweetpeas are a “renewable” flowering plant for decorative purposes. I’m pleased with the peas this year – though we only sowed a relative few, and as a dwarf variety they don’t exactly get big and burgeoning, the way I think of it is this: if for the equivalent of pennies, and a couple of square feet, we get the equivalent of a bag or two of peas, we’ve turned a profit in an exceptionally efficient manner.
 
5 eggs, 0.9oz Meteor peas (0.28oz shelled)
 
9th August 2021
An afternoon trip for the chickens and to make a list. So much to catch up on and to do. Final sowings (some overdue), plant out spare plantlings, weed, harvest.
 
Helen uses a pound of foraged blackberries and raspberries out of the freezer from last year, and there is plenty more where that comes from. Crazy to think of the abundance still in store – for free!
 
I head down in the evening, in rapidly failing light, and hurry through some work, including sowing some carrot seeds – over a month late. Sometimes, though, it’s worth trying something, especially if on a small scale, to see what happens. If they’ll be ready at roughly 3-4 months, we can realistically harvest them at the end of October – and our autumns are usually mild and often sunny and warm (September is often better then August).
 
I finish the evening’s work at home on the July accounts. “Income” below does not include onions, which have been drying, but does include a pro rata guess at the actual value of the Early potatoes harvested in July, bearing in mind the relatively high green content. The (*) represents using a complimentary voucher and reducing the price.
 
INCOME (equivalent £££ saved): £66.71 (Meteor peas 70p, Beauregard lettuce £14, eggs £34, Aquadulce beans £7.50, rhubarb £1.37, Welsh onions 4p, Cherry tomatoes 30p, French Breakfast radishes 60p, Early potatoes £2.30, Black Beauty courgettes £2.40, Golden Zucchini courgettes 20p, raspberries £1.50, De Nizza courgette 80p)
 
EXPENSES: £15.38 (2 bags Layer’s Pellets £14, cabbage mesh £1.38*)
 
£51.33 effective profit, which renders the two months so far in net profit, with 2-3 big income months still to go for the year. The plan has to be to have a good harvest, and then plan winter projects in relation to the effective profit for the summer/autumn, so that by the end of next May we’re breaking even. Then next year can be an outright profit year.
 
7 eggs, 1 French Breakfast radish, 6 heads of Beauregard lettuce, misc onions

Monday 9 August 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 6: 27th July-2nd August 2021

27th July 2021
There are constant small victories and losses on the smallholding. Yesterday the first potatoes came up half-green in a salvage job, and the beans were rotten, but at least the radishes and lettuce were good. Today is all victory. We give some friends some eggs, radishes, and lettuce heads. It is joyful to share abundance. Why else should we grow but to give – to ourselves and others? Grace is designed to overflow.
 
We also begin to see the courgette harvest come in earnest, with two mature Black Beauties, long and glossy black-green, like a dark aubergine, and one Golden Zucchini – a small one, but fully mature, the first off its plant. Picking them regularly naturally encourages growth elsewhere. Helen reports seeing some of our scallop-shaped ones coming through, too.
 
7 eggs, 2 large Black Beauty courgettes, 1 small Golden Zucchini, 0.35oz raspberries
 
28th July 2021
I don’t go down today.
 
7 eggs

29th July 2021
I go down with a friend and the boys, and we bring back a basketful of courgettes and raspberries and peas! The first De Nizza – a green-grey bell-shaped squash or courgette – comes off the vine, and we take a bevy of Black Beauties, which ripen to a gloss black finish.
 
It is a blessing to share the land. Virtually no-one does not enjoy coming down to the allotment – albeit they do not share the hard days in mud – and it is plainly vivifying, to them and me. This renders it the more distressing that we simply do not share land in a general sense. I don’t mean public ownership – I mean social cooperation.
 
The drift from the land had its effects on employment and on rhythms of life at the time, of course, but the greatest long-term impact (I am convinced) is to our sense of rootedness, our connection with natural things, our sense of the rhythms of the land itself. The farming community is closed off, often both literally and metaphorically endogamous – what little public agricultural land (allotments) we have are ever under threat from the temptation of development money – our nature preserves are fragile and lopsided – our greenbelt is often largely in private hands, and sterile to boot.
 
4 eggs, 2 large Black Beauty courgettes, 2 small Black Beauty courgettes, 1 large De Nizza courgette, 30 raspberries (2.64oz), 0.5oz Meteor peas (0.25oz shelled)
 
30th July 2021
Brief trip before bed, and I collect some potatoes!
 
5 eggs, 10 raspberries (0.88oz), 7lbs6oz Early potatoes
 
31st July 2021
I take my dad and the boys down on the way out to play softball. There’s something glorious in generational sharing of the land, even such a small patch. My father’s father, Grandpa Joe, had an allotment – I particularly remember his potatoes and beans, tomatoes from the greenhouse. That legacy has always stayed with me very strongly. It was a bias towards allotment keeping long before I got into permaculture. It’s an inheritance in itself, as sure as the woolly jumpers passed down from him that I still wear. (He died 14 years ago, so they’re doing pretty well to get to this stage!)
 
6 eggs
 
1st August 2021
The briefest of trips to collect eggs and sort out the chickens, after a long and busy day. The Golden Ranger is very broody, but not laying; she doesn’t seem eggbound, though, as she is mobile and happy during the day.
 
6 eggs
 
2nd August 2021
Helen reports that we have strawberries at the allotment bed! Given our losses in the yard, this is encouraging. She’s put out straw to help with moisture and rotting issues.
 
Quick trip to put the chickens to bed. It was probably wise to let them stay out when it was around 20 Celsius overnight – but they need to be encouraged to be wise. Like children, in that respect.
 
I need to find more time to plant out remaining spare seedlings and weed the rhubarb and asparagus. The new rhubarb, particularly, is doing very well; we’ll very likely not take any this summer, as it’s late in its season, and we want the strength to be returned to the crown for next year.
 
6 eggs, 8 raspberries (0.7oz)

Friday 30 July 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 5 (20th-26th July 2021)

20th July 2021
On the evening checkup, I take a close look at the broad beans. We knew we had one or two broken stems, and so a bit of bruised flesh was natural – but looking at the plants tonight, brown and black spots and patches are rife on several plants, even affecting some of the pods.
 
I research this – probably something called “chocolate spot”, which sounds tasty but isn’t. I harvest a number of pods – those on badly affected plants, chiefly. I suspect the plants have ended up growing too closely, which will have exacerbated fungal spread, but it’s probably more than that.
 
When we shell the beans later, aside from a few weirdly half-empty pods, there are also some spotted and unhealthy beans, which have to be discarded. I’m disappointed.
 
Last year we lost perhaps half of our small tomato crop to late blight. Adrian Bell speaks about the gritty desperation of the smallholder, because the smallholder forges independence in incredibly precarious circumstances. That makes every loss all the more painful. Every lost bean is a step away from resilience.
 
8 eggs, 10oz Aquadulce broad beans (1.6oz shelled)
 
21st July 2021
The boys taste the first few ripe tomatoes off our most successful planter. Some of our tomatoes are struggling for nitrogen (shallow pots), and the collection in the mini-greenhouse have definitely struggled simultaneously with being too vigorous (and therefore growing a lot but not flowering) and being intermittently dry (leading to scorching of some of the flowers that do come through). My own fault, of course; my design, my systems. Tomatoes are a bother, it has to be said. Maybe fewer next year?
 
Short evening checkup with a friend. Multiple courgettes now ready, of various colours and varieties. The repeated bird attacks have definitely killed a few strawberry and Brussels plants – but I have spares, so no despair yet.
 
6 eggs, 2 Garden Pearl cherry tomatoes (1.51oz)
 
22nd July 2021
I work in the twilight again. Though cooler the chickens are still preferring to sleep out – I’ll probably have to work on that soon, once the weather turns.
 
Aside from watering and tidying, I fill a harvest basket. More onions, peas, beans, radishes, lettuce, and our first courgette (a black variety; we have 4 varieties out there). The corollary to the pain of losing the broad beans – and the food reserves they represent – is that true resilience spreads its bets. Last year our tomatoes were blighted; this year they’re coping much better. This year the beans have chocolate spot, but we can learn from that – in the meantime we have plenty of other things.
 
Having spotted potatoes peeking above the ground yesterday, I glimpse some more today, and head into the potato enclosure. The Earlies are beginning to die back, slowly – yellowing leaves for now, from nitrogen withdrawal – and some of them have a half dozen potatoes on the trunk above ground, as well as whatever is beneath. This may be due to the density of the clay soils here, but just as likely is just the potatoes being vigorous and cropping heavily. Good news, though bears watching.
 
6 eggs, 2.1oz Aquadulce broad beans (0.32oz shelled), 1.1oz Meteor peas (0.42oz shelled), 5 heads Beauregard lettuce, 7 French Breakfast radishes, 1 small Black Beauty courgette, 1 Garden Pearl cherry tomato/0.75oz, 2.54oz onion greens, misc onions
 
23rd July 2021
Brief visit today with a friend. I move the cold frame from the rapidly overgrowing courgettes to cover the vulnerable strawberries that birds have been attacking (even through the netting, which they have torn!).

5 eggs, 2 Garden Pearl cherry tomatoes/1.51oz
 
24th July 2021
No visit today, due to feeling under the weather.
 
7 eggs.

25th July 2021
No visit today either. Helen mentions on her return that where the potato plants are withering some exposed potatoes are turning green. This is from producing chlorophyll to maximise sunlight intake, but it causes the tuber to become utterly inedible. They’ll need harvesting and then processing – either cutting out edible parts, or composting, or turning to seed potato for next year.
 
7 eggs
 
26th July 2021
A long evening block working at the allotment and then processing. The light is falling away much more quickly than I expected – a month on from midsummer and, with any cloud at all in the sky, it’s gloomy by 10pm. There is a circadian rhythm here, though – there is something fitting about the harvest gradually fading into black.
 
Now, with the cold frame in its new place, I discard dead plants from under it and plant out a couple more strawberries. I also put a few small, quite eaten spare chards in with their brethren – given how regularly we can crop them, the more the better. Space shouldn’t be an issue.
 
I also water everything, before commencing the harvest.
 
More radishes come up – enormous ones, now, bigger than any so far this year, as big as a fingerling courgette. Another handful of bean pods, several heads of lettuce, and then finally a very respectable haul of potatoes – but many half-green.
 
I do remove one plant altogether as it is shallow and has nothing left, and crop off its neighbours heavily. However, it is only a few Early plants in the centre of the Early ridge that are growing tubers above ground; aside from slight exposure, nothing else is. After finishing harvesting these, I dig from the partner ditch and cover a few of the plants more thoroughly so that as their tubers grow, they stay covered.
 
At home, I process everything – shelling peas and the like. The potatoes go in a thick brown paper bag and under the cupboard, the darkest place in the house. The beans, alas, are all rotten – the pods themselves are intact, but the fertilised beans have shrivelled and turned black, and the pod has often grown into that space, like a tumour. I struggle to find an explanation online – they seem to have been pollinated (surely), but perhaps something went wrong there; perhaps it is the effect of the chocolate spot, but this affected even healthy-looking beans. A mystery, for now. Agriculture is a detective story.
 
5 eggs, 0.5oz Meteor peas (0.125oz shelled), 4 heads Beauregard lettuce, 10 French Breakfast radishes, 1.25oz Aquadulce beans (0oz shelled; rotten), 6lbs6.75oz early potatoes (green material inclusive)

Thursday 22 July 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 4 (13th-19th July 2021)

13th July 2021
I resow carrot seeds – another area damaged by the chickens on Sunday. I then cover them with a low tunnel, to dissuade other birds from investigating the disturbed soil. There is a constant battle against entropy in the garden – the weeding, the slug-hunting, the seed-covering. Somehow, through handpower, sun, and water, with no real expertise, this leads to abundance.
 
6 eggs
 
14th July 2021
Allotment Club. Hot but successful. The harvest is beginning to mount as we take the first few Welsh onions (only a very few now, though). These are a small form of onion akin to spring onions or chives, and can be grown and used in the manner of either, and can also be used as small green onions.
 
We have beans, peas, and lettuce with dinner, which involves chicken in a tomato sauce. We will have tomatoes later in the year – in fact, the first few are starting to ripen now! – but we’d need more scale to make any amount of tomato sauce. Possible, though. Even a bit of land, however, would let us keep our own meat chickens.
 
7 eggs, 4 heads Beauregard lettuce, 0.3oz Welsh onions, 10oz Aquadulce broad beans (3oz shelled), 1.5oz Meteor peas (0.65 oz shelled)
 
15th July 2021
Twilight working, which avoids the heat. I water the plants – we watered with liquid compost yesterday, but this time it’s more for hydration. Especially as stuff is fruiting or podding, we need to keep the plants satiated.
 
7 eggs
 
16th July 2021
The hottest day of the year so far, with tomorrow predicted hotter. We have allotment radishes in our chicken pasanda dinner – with land, we could also add the chicken and the garlic, and perhaps other things.
 
I visit briefly in the earlier evening to pick up eggs and drop off scraps to the chickens (illegally!). I don’t have the time to water now, but did water yesterday, and forcing the plants to push deeper is no bad thing. Sometimes fruiting plants suffer for that – you can’t risk too much drought – but a day should be fine.
 
I return later, after dark, to lock up. Most of the chickens have gone on top of the coop, led by the cockerel. The door is still open; this is voluntary. Why? Well, it’s still 16c – they’ve made a judgement about staying cool. I weigh up the minuscule risk of a fox getting into our secure yard, and – contrary to any advice you’ll get – leave the chickens out. They will ordinarily judge much better than I can what is good for them. I deal with the edge cases, or where our needs clash.
 
The sky is clear, and light pollution isn’t overbearing. The heavens really do look like a vault studded with jewels.
 
I lie down on the stone path which I laid myself, feeling the comforting cool on my shoulders. I look up, as Venus rises in the east, a glowing pale yellow, herald of the sun. In the west, stars seem to swim down into the haze beyond the horizon, the brightest still shining but their dimmer brethren swallowed up.
 
Above, the spheres whose music I cannot hear but know by every intuition and by revelation is everpresent and perfectly harmonic. The perfect order of a Divine universe, fully on display and available for free, every night under cloudless skies. What troubles have we wrought by turning on the lights and shutting the curtains?
 
7 eggs
 
17th July 2021
Quick trip to collect eggs and check on plants. I do a bit of watering. The difficulty accessing the potato bed – which is in an enclosure beside the chickens, in half of their old yard – reminds me that we need to finish the internal fence and add a gate. The potatoes are growing mightily, however, including the main croppers. I suppose in a month or so the earlies will die back, after which we’ll leave them in the ground for a few weeks to dry and settle before harvesting.
 
6 eggs
 
18th July 2021
Sunday School at the allotment. The sun pounds down but the children are watered and enjoy themselves. I give out some lettuce at the end. The first courgettes are now visible, too – we’ll probably harvest a couple this week!
 
We pick a few wild raspberries on the way home, and share them out amongst the family.
 
Some plants have been kicked out by foraging birds – probably feral chickens, perhaps pigeons. It’s more chicken-like behaviour, though, with the plants often uneaten. We have netting and mesh spare, so we’ll cover them. In the morning I simply replant the victims.
 
By the evening the plants are grubbed up again – so I net some uncovered strawberries, and also the raspberries, though in their case more to protect the fruit. The canes are quite well-set there.
 
8 eggs, 2 heads of Beauregard lettuce, 6 raspberries
 
19th July 2021
In the evening I water the plants with a friend, after checking on the chickens. The orange Sapphire has something like a cold, sneezing repeatedly, but is otherwise vigorous and happy. One thing with chickens is that if they get seriously ill there’s no point treating them, and if they’re mildly ill the curatives are usually food, water, and perhaps cider vinegar.
 
7 eggs

Thursday 15 July 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 3 (6th-12th July 2021)

6th July 2021
I get down with sunlight still bleeding on the western horizon. The same Copper Black as has been out the last two nights is on top of the coop; I shoo her off. Odd.
 
8 eggs
 
7th July 2021
Allotment Club, with two families as well as ours. Sunny, humid. Buckets of harvest, and as a side to our lunch I pick onion greens. Joe loves them; they’re spicy but luscious, fresh, ripe. The onions are nearly ready themselves – we should get enough for most of the next year. The first courgette flowers are out.
 
A couple of weak bean tillers are snapped off as the children harvest; this is somewhat inevitable, but the grubby-handed smallholder in me is really frustrated by the loss of, perhaps, 30 pods. That’s maybe a half-pound. On the other hand, I should consider it an education cost – the kids have to learn how to pick beans, and there were always going to be casualties en route to their expertise.
 
Later, we host friends for dinner. We use up all the home-grown lettuce left in the fridge, both Gem and Beauregard – and I think: this stuff is just toxic roadside nonsense. We took it and tamed it, like you break a colt, and turned it into something edible and useful...and so varied! The Gem is crunchy, juicy, with pine-dark green leaves; the Beauregard is more delicate, an almost papery leaf in duck-egg green, peppery to taste. The ancient farmer was as close to a wonderworker as any modern geneticist.
 
I sow carrot seed in the evening (late, should have done it last month, but the weather early in the year has knocked everything back). I also check on the potatoes; as well as the 25 Early plants, there are now 19 or so Maincrop plants showing above ground. We may recover the potato harvest yet!
 
The Copper Black goes inside normally; weird streak broken.
 
I hear the progress of the England-Denmark game by listening to the village; the shouts as England score their second goal rise from different points and join, forming a victorious chorus, like a roaring sea. There’s a timeless element here, somehow – of course people are watching on TV, but I am not, and hear news travel by acclamation across the silent land.
 
But that piece of news is trumped as I walk to get some water: a hedgehog! First I’ve seen in years. One of our many declining animal populations, suffering as so many from busier roads, more heavily broken up by human development, the rest of it.
 
The hog watches me pass, and is gone by the time I return. A snuffling mascot for a land-healing ministry.
 
6 eggs, 3oz Meteor peas, 3.75lbs Aquadulce beans (1lb shelled), 3 rhubarb stalks (other stalks were brought home but had withered by the time they were processed)
 
8th July 2021
Only briefly at the allotment, but later, when walking home from a friend’s birthday BBQ, I see another hedgehog. Is this the reverse of the ravens leaving the tower?
 
7 eggs
 
9th July 2021
I enjoy a therapeutic hour in the evening working at the allotment. I spread wood shaving over the chicken yard to help with the mud; by next winter I want to have it woodchipped. This will produces us good compost, help with absorbency, and the chickens will enjoy hunting for bugs amongst the chips.
 
I top up their bedding – we basically “deep bed” them until there’s not room and then clear some of the rubbish out. This is perfectly hygienic – the new bedding covers the old waste and helps the composting process, which also produces a little ambient heat for the chickens. Especially good in winter.
 
I feed and water them. We use layers pellets, plus a little corn and grit. Not organic – I’d rather be grazing them on grass and topping up with minerals, but organic feed is twice the price and so as they’re static we compromise.
 
There is something cleansing about being here; it is not that one is mindless in working. Indeed, doing manual labour allows the mind to wander and reflect more than clerical work. But there is something grounding, reality-setting – yes, I have many worries; yes, there are burdens and obstacles; but here, now, “at the still point of the turning world”, I am present, and able to achieve something, no matter how small.
 
The chickens are fed. The young rhubarb and the cabbages are flourishing. The bean harvest continues apace. If I die tomorrow, I will have served my day.
 
7 eggs
 
10th July 2021
I don’t go down today, having too much other work to do; I miss it.
 
7 eggs, 1 head of Beauregard lettuce, 1 Meteor peapod (0.2oz)
 
11th July 2021
We see a sparrowhawk take out a pigeon on the way down for Sunday School. It watches the whole crowd of us gawking. Another pigeon watches, too, seemingly more confused than distressed.
 
In the evening I come down and discover the chicken yard door had been left open, and the little monsters had gone out on to the allotment in style. The chard and cauliflowers have been thoroughly gobbled (but hopefully can still recover), and other plants have been unearthed. Somehow worst of all, the chickens had all then gone back in to their yard! I spend time replanting plants and covering vulnerable specimens.
 
6 eggs, 1 head of Beauregard lettuce
 
12th July 2021
We have tomato pasta with our own broad beans and lettuce. This is satisfying, of course – but also nutritious! The broad beans are stuffed with easy calories, protein, and minerals, whilst the lettuce is very good for both vitamins and minerals. And this is all very easy to grow – both have basically grown themselves with just a bit of weeding, a single string round the beans, and slug-hunting for the lettuce. Scores of bean seeds, hundreds of lettuce seeds – they cost a pound or two each. Virtually free, easy to grow, nutritious.
 
7 eggs

Tuesday 6 July 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 2 (29th June-5th July 2021)

June 29th 2021
I go down briefly in the evening to do some extra watering and put the chickens to bed.  Peaceful, pleasantly cool.
 
6 eggs
 
June 30th 2021
Allotment Club with Libby and her kids as well as our lot. Harvest Meteor peas, broad beans, and rhubarb stalks. The high summer becomes less a time of planting – though that continues apace, if you want a winter or spring crop – and more a time of harvest, as every pod and fruit wells up like an active volcanic mount, ready to burst. Even a week ago, virtually no pea pods were visible; now we have the first dozen, of many more to come.
 
I rake and hoe out a small section between the raspberries and asparagus in the “Perennial Bed” and put down a couple of inches of compost. Our own compost! The product of our weeding and chicken-mucking, along with millions of co-workers in this land-healing ministry – bacteria and beetles and worms and many others.
 
The six sweet potato plants go in – Beauregard, a semi-hardy cultivar. I still cover it with a cloche, as they won’t grow otherwise. It seems a worthwhile experiment, but I am not hopeful. I bought the slips because Helen loves sweet potatoes.
 
Our (uncovered) tomatoes are growing in bunches in the yard, and the strawberry plants in “half-pipe” guttering on the wall have set a decent amount of fruit. The tomatoes in the mini greenhouse in the garden are bigger but only just starting to flower; they are racing the sun, now, for setting fruit and ripening. Nonetheless, not bad for the North-East of England, especially after the miseries of the preceding winter and spring!
 
7 eggs, 2lbs Aquadulce broad beans (1/2lb shelled), 1/5lb Meteor peas, 7 rhubarb stalks
 
July 1st 2021
I receive some 5-gallon buckets today. I have one already, in use for liquid compost (of which more shortly); these will do for water-carrying duties, weed collection, feed mixing, and whatever else I can come up with involving a 5-gallon bucket.
 
I lump a couple of them back from the nearest standpipe. Ten gallons of water is heavy. There is something quite primeval about carrying water to irrigate the crops in the falling dusk, though.
 
A liquid compost is easy, if smelly: fill a bucket with useful green matter (comfrey leaves, nettles, dock, creeping buttercup – anything with deep tap roots or wide root networks, really), then fill with water, and if you want, crush the leaves in for good measure. Seal or cover. Dilute at 1:10 with water, and use as organic fertiliser. All those trace elements, all that nitrogen, sucked up from the soil by your helpful plant workers, and then redistributed to your food crop.
 
7 eggs
 
July 2nd 2021
Forage season has begun. The blackberries started blossoming today; the raspberries beat them to it, but only just. I cut down sprays of elderflower from a tree overhanging our allotment so that Helen could make cordial. We made elderberry cordial last year; we will again this year, and jam too, perhaps. Dog roses grow in abundance here, too, and we gathered and dried some rosehips last year. Get some more this year, and we could make plenty of rose syrup. (Funny thing, of course, that wild blackberries and raspberries are easy enough, but the elder and rose forage both require technological intervention; human ingenuity finding new foods.)
 
I also do the “farm” accounts for June. I assign a nominal value to the food we harvest for consumption based on the equivalent “main range” product at Tesco. Now, if we could sell our allotment produce (we can’t, by contract), it would command a higher price; the vegetables are organic, though the eggs aren’t strictly. The reality, though, is that if we didn’t have allotment produce we’d be buying the same from Tesco or Sainsbury’s, and so the money we’re “making” is those savings. (Of course, we get higher secondary use out of this food due to having the allotment; bean pods go to the chickens, egg shells go to the compost, etc. But that is reflected in a negative sense – it becomes unbought compost and chicken feed, thereby saving future money.)
 
INCOME: £58 (£32 from 191 eggs, £6.75 broad beans, £5.50 rhubarb stalks, £5.50 Gem lettuce, £3.75 Perpetual Spinach, £3.40 Beauregard lettuce, 80p French Breakfast radishes, 30p Meteor peas)
 
EXPENDITURE: £94.83 (£34.97 5 x 5-gal buckets, £23.99 4 x harvest baskets, £8.50 1 x bag corn, £7.99 1 x bag grit, £7.99 1 x bag wood bedding, £6 4 x preservation jars, £5.39 farm ledger)
 
A loss of nearly £37, but that’s less bad than it may sound. June is not high harvest by any means, and the vast majority of the expenditure was on injection-moulded plastic that, whilst ungreen, is important infrastructure at the level we’re farming. I also got Spear & Jackson to send me a brand new hoe when my hoe’s haft shivered and snapped, which leaves me, when you think about it, with a perfectly good hoe head and some usable pieces of wood.
 
Nonetheless, this augurs a quiet few months over the summer in terms of expenditure – focus on the harvest, and make “profit” to justify future investment.
 
8 eggs, 12 sprays of elderflowers
 
3rd July 2021
Only a quick trip to the allotment in the evening to collect eggs and check on the chickens, but relieved to see some of our battered courgette seedlings re-establishing after pigeon and child attacks. (Many are very well-established, which is promising; they’ve gone out late because of the problems with weather early in the season, but should still, God willing, give us abundant bounty.) The sweet potatoes are also very happy under their cloche, though thereby their compost was dry despite the day-long rain.
 
6 eggs
 
4th July 2021
Sunday School at the allotment. We picked a head of Beauregard lettuce and shared it, and I spoke on the theme “Taste and see that the Lord is good”. Then afterwards some of the children helped with the chickens, and we ate pea pods! I’ve never enjoyed doing children’s spiritual education at church so much; there is something so connected and grounded and joyful in being outside and on the land.
 
In the evening I head down to the chickens in the rain to lock them up. All but one are already in bed; the other (a Copper Black) is roosting on the top, in the rain. The door is open, which puzzles me. I irritate her enough for her to jump off and run around. Her alarm calls – she is very annoyed at me – alert the cockerel, who begins to call back from inside the coop, doing his patriarchal duty of providing a homing signal. Of course, being a literal chicken, he does not come out to check on the predator threat.
 
6 eggs, 1 head Beauregard lettuce, 1.75oz Meteor peas
 
5th July 2021
I again head down late to lock the chickens up, and this time the rooster, the Bantam, and a Copper Black are roosting on the top – though the door is open. Stranger and stranger. I wonder if they have become somewhat used to me coming down in the evening when they are awake, and have partially synchronised their bedtimes with that? I actually switch on my heavy duty lamp and disturb the other chickens (in an attempt to "reset" their bedtime), who are happy to come out for food – probably hungry as they were fairly hastily let out earlier in the midst of other jobs.
 
I then, in the humid, damp, but pleasant night, do a tiny bit of work – again replant one of the battered courgettes, tossed up by a probing bird (the stronger plants can withstand it; there's an argument for letting weak plants die, of course); find slugs out in the dark and wet and throw them into the chicken yard, including some who have snuck under the cloche to bother the sweet potatoes; and a tiny bit of simple weeding. Nature is overfecund, in her way, and the thorns of Eden are real – the land does not abide neglect, even for a day or two.
 
5 eggs

Wednesday 30 June 2021

The Two Pre-Modern Traditions of the English Constitution: A Brief Outline

 This is a brief note on the two competing “traditions” of the English constitution from the High Medieval through to the Early Modern. I use the word “tradition” pointedly – both views or schools saw themselves as upholding an old and proven form of constitutionalism. In the 17th century Locke would offer a constitutional theory from first principles; that is one plausible starting point for a “Modern Tradition” of the Constitution, but at that point it was an innovation, not anything passed on.

 
“The Ancient Mixed Constitution”
The first of the two Pre-Modern Traditions is that of the “Ancient Constitution”. In one form or another, this view traces the mixed constitution of England and then Great Britain to some form of hoary, pre-Conquest past. The general idea is that the balance of powers and rights and duties is age-proven and heritable – to revert upon it is to breach an ancient and healthful compact.
 
This tradition can be found in one form or another from the time of Magna Carta (1215) onwards. Magna Carta itself establishes rather than reaffirms rights, though King John stipulates that the rights so granted are heritable by “their [the Barons’] heirs forever”. Importantly, though, Magna Carta’s Minor brother – the Forest Charter – specifically reaffirms pre-existing, even pre-Conquest rights of forestage. Just as Domesday gave cover of the continuity of law to the great changes of the Conquest, so the Forest Charter establishes common rights to land by appeal to a previous age.
 
The High Medieval jurist Henri de Bracton (1210-1268) forms a link in this tradition, by specifying a distinctive of English law, unique (to his mind) amongst all law codes: the importance of “custom”, unwritten law and tradition approved by usage. Though Bracton’s categories of the purpose of law are otherwise entirely in line with the continental and civil tradition of law, this specific additional category gives his view of English law a distinctive twist.
 
The Plantagenet Chief Justice and Chancellor Sir John Fortescue (1394-1479) drew heavily on two sources for his classic definition of the English constitution as “both royal and political” (i.e. based both on the authority of the Crown and the people): first, the mythology around the founding of England by Brutus the Trojan, and the rights implied by the choosing of a King for the Britons; and second, Thomas Aquinas and his continuator and confessor Ptolemy of Lucca. The mixed constitution of England was proven by long usage and was an inheritance – like the Forest Charter, the idea of ancestral rights is vital here, and for Fortescue those rights date from deep Antiquity.
 
The Elizabethan diplomat Sir Thomas Smith (1513-1577) does not innovate on his sources in his “De Republica Anglorum”, for all that the Reformation has changed matters. Smith particularly uses the language of England having a “mixed constitution”, where each part (or “branch” as we might now call it) balances the others. Like Fortescue, he compares this favourably to the French constitution (though Fortescue is overall much more balanced and nuanced).
 
Sir Edward Coke (1552-1634), the early Stuart jurist and chief author of the “Petition of Right”, also relied on the idea of inherited rights. His Law Reports regularly referred to the idea of the Ancient Constitution. The “Petition”, presented to Charles I in 1628, referred to statutes granted under Edward I and III barring taxation without Parliamentary consent, concluding that “your subjects have inherited this freedom”. The body (Parliament) which had defined this right had never revoked it; the King could not alone do so. This is entirely in line with the pre-Reformation logic of the Forest Charter, Bracton’s proven usage of customs, and Fortescue’s ancient constitution; this is not simply, then, a logical innovation of the Reformation.
 
The Lords Declarant of 1688, led by Lord Halifax (1633-1695), chiefly recapitulate the Petition of Right’s logic in their “Declaration of Right” and “Bill of Rights” of 1689. Particularly, they claim to act in “vindicating and asserting their ancient rights and liberties”. When we trace the constitutional tradition – of a constitution both royal and political, of the right to choose a King finally residing with the people, of heritable political rights – we see that there is a deeper well to the actions of the Lords Declarant than simple ambition (though no doubt there was that, as well). Their actions are not Whiggish cover for Enlightenment ideas – the Lords included many Tories, and their shared tradition was one they traced back centuries or even (re Brutus) millennia.
 
Sir Humphrey Mackworth (1657-1727) and his famous intellectual successor Lord Bolingbroke (1678-1751) sought to affirm this idea of an “Ancient Constitution”. Bolingbroke did so particularly in the face of Walpole’s “New Whigs”, who favoured a much stronger pseudo-Parliamentary executive (but without regular or open elections) and a weakening of the royal power. Bolingbroke sought to fuse the remaining non-Jacobite Tories with the “Old Whigs” in defence of the “Ancient Constitution” vindicated in 1688. Though in his own time this only worked as a short-time measure, in the long run his vision won out.
 
That it won out can be seen in the career of the last great Old Whig, Edmund Burke (1729-1797). (Burke used the term “Old Whig” as a marker of a friend of the Old Constitution, against New Whigs radicalised by the Enlightenment.) Burke – like the Lords Declarant of 1688 – is sometimes seen as inventing wholesale, or taking from some proto-liberal Puritans, a constitutional idea of inheritance and mixed government. He is also accused on inconsistency in his political thinking – for the American Revolution, against the French Revolution, because he was (say) in favour of a slaver revolution and against a progressive revolution. Of course the accuser in the latter case exposes their own priors, but the case must be answered. Burke supported the American Revolution as a vindication of inherited English rights, of taxation relating to representation and so forth; he opposed the French Revolution for its tearing down of inherited traditions. He opposed Dr Price’s reading of the Glorious Revolution as an Enlightened and Liberal, because he did not believe the English Constitution was discoverable from raw first principles; it was a matter of inheritance. Inheritance and familial rights were a regular theme of Burke’s – consider his opposition to the Popery Laws in Ireland affecting land ownership and inheritance, or his plans for an abolition of slavery based on emancipating West Indian slaves via familial land grants.
 
At the end of our period, we see this theory of the English Constitution influencing the American Founding Fathers (particularly Adams) and impressing several French observers (particularly de Lolme and de Maistre).
 
The Absolutist Constitution
 
The opposing tradition has a less simple “through-line”, but rather tends to adduce tradition (whatever the tradition is) in favour of absolute monarchy. The “mixed government” tradition relies on one general argument (the inheritance of rights in the Ancient Constitution) – the Absolutist Constitution springs from several sources but all find that the right of inheritance or the basic law of nature reposes power in perpetuity in the King.
 
Sir Robert Filmer (1588-1653) was the foremost theorist of Absolutism under the aegis of James I and Charles I. His general principle in “Patriarcha” is that power is always invested by God in fathers. Adam was both father of a biological family and King of the world; subsequently Kings serve as fathers of their nations and so have final authority vested in them, with no right of appeal. Where Fortescue relies on Thomas/Ptolemy to adduce Scripture in favour of mixed government, Filmer makes the opposite argument. Filmer is Locke’s target in the “Two Treatises on Government”.
 
Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) is, by some measures, a “tradition”-based theorist in a way his counterweight Locke is not. Hobbes bases a significant part of his argument in “Leviathan” on the pattern of Scriptural government: at each stage ultimate authority in the people of God is vested in one figure (High Priest, King, etc). This both demonstrates a general pattern in nature and is a political economy extended by the New Covenant to “Christian” nations. Hobbes also regularly draws on “first principle” arguments, and is plainly an Enlightenment writer, but he (seemingly sincerely; it’s hard to tell, as Hobbes is a Machiavellian crank) does use a similar form of argument to Filmer. Interestingly, Hobbes is perhaps the only author on this list to seriously frame the discussion in terms of the Reformation – one of his great interlocutors is Cardinal Bellarmine, whose anti-Absolutism Hobbes opposes.
 
Finally, Robert Brady (1627-1700) was the great Stuart apologist in the later Absolutist era, under Charles II and James II. He took aim at the Ancient Constitution, arguing specifically that any such Constitution was entirely uprooted by the Conquest, the feudalism of which vested final authority in the King. Magna Carta, to Brady, was a relief of feudal duties by the King, not an appeal to any older idea of right, or any sort of personal property to be appealed to by future generations. It was entirely in the hand of the King to give and take away. It was to Brady that Mackworth and Bolingbroke replied, seeking to counter this argument. Where for Filmer and Hobbes, absolutism is founded on Scriptural ideas of kingship, for Brady there is, if you like, a different “Ancient Constitution” and legal order – but stemming from 1066, not Brutus and the Saxons.
 
Conclusion
The strength of the Absolutist tradition is, I think, its fairly clear and direct arguments from Scriptural patriarchy, and Brady’s careful historical work on feudal duty. As an “Ancient Constitutionalist”, naturally I have not been wholly convinced. For instance, the Forest Charter certainly presumes pre-Conquest rights were viable claims, and Bracton, Fortescue, and Smith all assume an antique constitution by one route or another. The Ancient Constitution also cannot be simply be dismissed as Whiggish pettifoggery – its earliest systematic exponent is Fortescue, who relies upon Scholastic writers and who (like Bracton) holds to a very traditional view of the moral purpose of princes and kings.
 
Next time I may write about the later Liberal counter-tradition, or focus in on one or more of these authors.

Tuesday 29 June 2021

A Smallholder's Diary, Week 1 (22nd-28th June 2021)

June 22nd 2021
The first beanpods come off the bush, like a tiny green Dachshund, viridian bright and furry. Just two, a check and measure. Tomorrow, the harvest begins.
 
6 eggs, 2 Aquadulce beanpods
 
June 23rd 2021
Bright day with our kids and the Woods’ at the Allotment. We scrub out part of the old brassica bed, where the beans are, and put in rhubarb and asparagus plants, with strawberries on the border. We finish the current crop of French Breakfast radishes (with more in succession), the last of the Gem lettuces, and a lot of beanpods.
 
As we are tidying to leave, Helen follows an odd sound and discovers a feral chicken (one of our neighbour’s flock) nesting under a piece of metal siding leaning in one of our nettle banks; there are at least two visible chicks. A very good mother – most domestic chickens, especially layer hybrids, have very weak maternal instincts. If you wanted more robust and independent flocks, you could do worse than see which hens hatch eggs and which don’t.
 
5 eggs, 9 French Breakfast radishes, 4 Gem lettuce heads, 5lbs Aquadulce beanpods (1/2 lb shelled)
 
June 24th 2021
Helen reports – with photographic proof – that the feral bantam has 11 chicks, many days old at least. This actually is a concern; if there is any sort of reasonable survival rate, they will predate our crops. Consideration must be made about either corralling them or getting our neighbour to take them back. Technical difficulties present themselves, though. Our able mother hen has found a safe spot in amidst nettles, and heads back into cover when she sees humans – so we would either need to destroy her habitat and hope she doesn’t flee in time, or somehow trap her outside.
 
On my way to the shop from the allotments, I pass through a small estate. A lurcher cross launches itself from its garden through an open gate from a ragged garden, barking warning at me. After a moment’s decision, I shout at it to “get back yourself” – and it, after a moment’s hesitation, flees back to its garden. We tamed the wolf; we’ve let some of our own people go feral from want.
 
Whilst putting the chickens to bed, we scrape out parts of an old weedy ridge bed, and add a few inches of homemade compost. Radish seeds and courgette seedlings (small plants, really) go in.
 
4 eggs
 
June 25th 2021
Rain. Particular species of English summer drizzle that is persistent, not over-cold, but eventually drags on your morale. First proper rain in a month or more.
 
One of the feral chicks may be missing this morning. Then, when herding them away from our rhubarb, one gets lost and walks into some long grass; I rescue it and return it to mother. They don’t have very high chances as it is, but it seems chivalrous to give them “hints and tips”. We discuss a plan to use one of our spare cages to trap them when the mother is sleeping, and either raise them or transfer them back to our neighbour. Last night she slept outside in the rain, brooding the chicks beneath her wings.
 
8 eggs
 
June 26th 2021
Hen and chicks back off at seeing us, disappearing into the nettle bank and perhaps the field hedge beyond. Young rhubarb and asparagus plants displaced, perhaps some asparagus eaten – we’ll need to net them or put a run cage over. Our visitors are, in essence, pests – the trick is to efficiently and amiably isolate or remove them.
 
I put a portable chicken run over the asparagus in the evening, and a small dog cage over some similarly disturbed radish seedlings.
 
8 eggs
 
June 27th 2021
Sunday School after church, out at the allotment. 7 kids aged 0-9. We connected Bible stories (Solomon’s foxes in the vineyard, Jesus teaching about the birds of the field) to our wandering bantam and her brood. They are foxes eating our produce, in our view; but they are provided for bountifully by the Lord, whether from our patch or the hedge, with very little worry on their part. How to marry careful protection of our land’s provision with unanxious trust in the Lord – that’s the trick.
 
No sign of the bantam and her chicks all day, though. Very likely have headed off into the hedge or field beyond. There is some disturbance amongst the courgettes not under a cold frame – pigeons, we suspect, as Helen had seen some landing in and around. The rain will have brought more invertebrate food to the surface. The plants themselves are partly scattered but seemingly undamaged. I put a tatty low tunnel over the repaired bed for now. I reflect again on the virtue of getting an air gun and discouraging foraging pigeons in a different and tastier manner.    
 
8 eggs, 1 French Breakfast radish
 
June 28th 2021
A late evening session at the allotment. No sign of our chicken guests all day. Watered everything, including the potatoes – about 15 main crop plants are now showing well above ground, with presumably more to come. The earlies are in flower, with some white blossoms looking like a cross between bluebells and roses! All running late, of course, but that was the work of our spring.
 
The Beauregard lettuce is going beautifully, and I see lots of pea pods on the Dwarf Meteors. Both the peas and the beans will crop more if we pick, so we can afford to be vigorous in our harvest. I plant out some spare cauliflowers from our friend’s Nursery – mostly for children, but it’s an outdoors/play-focussed nursery so they grow vegetables there.
 
As the twilight falls like a deep lavender blanket, my neighbour turns up, and a mystery is solved. The hen and her chicks had returned to my neighbour’s gate, and he’d taken the chicks then, and the bantam a bit later. I now am forced to wonder: would it not have been better for the bantam to take her chances and get a few chicks through to adulthood, breaking the cycle of bred-in cretinism.
 
6 eggs, 2 Beauregard lettuce heads

Friday 21 May 2021

Choose to Settle

A great storm scours the earth, now and for some two hundred years, cracking down the great hornbeams and oaks of the valued past, the traditions under which we shelter. Religion and family and even architectures are tossed aside like broken fences before the wind; the rainwaters undermine the berms and levees, rending great holes through which flood every kind of filth and pestilence.

 

The choice anyone has is whether to blow before the wind, or settle in a ditch.

 

So many of us are wind-blown leaves, scattered across the earth, keeping ahead of the economic and social costs of our society. We move for work, again and again; we avoid to root ourselves, to “trap” ourselves with children; we so often see community institutions as a buffet – do you prefer Anglican or Baptist, cricket or rugby, oven pizza or pasta bake?

 

To those who have always lived in their place, amongst the dust of their ancestors, on the streets their grandfathers built or paid for, the choice I am articulating may seem bizarre – but so many of us have gone to University and never returned, or found work elsewhere and forgotten the old dialect, or even gone into an internal exile, living in the same place but separating ourselves from what has gone before. Windleaves, like us, have the choice, then: choose to fly, unencumbered but ultimately purposeless – or fall to the ground, settle, and in our time compost to leafmould so something new and stronger might grow.

 

Once “settling” might have had a pioneering (or, negatively put, colonial) sound. Now, settling has a strongly negative connotation – to settle is to accept inferiority and limitation, rather than to seek the best. No doubt one should always seek the highest and best in virtue – but there is something in that negative connotation to pluck from the refuse and reconsider.

 

Yes, settling means accepting inferiority and limitation. It means accepting, therefore, that we are human; that we are not immortal, do not have infinite opportunities, and cannot make of our life anything we want. This is not depressing or sad. It is depressing and sad when someone is deluded into believing they can fly, and cannot understand why their wings don’t work; that person is depressed, and their loved ones are saddened by their unmooring from the good things in their real life. Accepting limitation, accepting reality, is a blessing, because then we clearly see the good things in our life, and the real options. We cannot appreciate asparagus spears breaching the soil if we only buy them, perfect and prepackaged, from Waitrose; we cannot see the glory of Jupiter and the beauty of Venus through the neverending twilight of city lights.

 

Settling means turning away from many roads. To settle means not to go on elsewhere – it means not to work in certain jobs, to abandon your dreams of travel, to commit to one person, so long as you both may live (or one monastery, or one community). Those other roads have glories down them, no doubt – but they are not your road. Your road has many sloughs of despond and thorny hills, but it is your road. Strangely enough, though, the same slough would have turned up on any other road you might have taken, in any other season; the slough was settled in you from the hour of your birth. You must deal with it, here or elsewhere – but here, on this road you know, in this place you know, you are on home ground, with the advantage of familiarity.

 

Settling involves sacrifice (as if the Windleaves do not sacrifice, and for no return!) – but sacrifice brings life. Costless consumption brings only death – but sacrifice is the ever-present precondition of life. How else to see the physical risk incurred by a mother bearing a child, and the time and money set aside by both parents for the childhood of their offspring? How else to see the creeping buttercup and horse’s tail fed to the chickens, turned into liquid gold in the egg? How else to see the broken stalks and crushed leaves in the compost, disintegrating and being cast behind by worms, all turned to precious organics to enrich the boulder clay? All that is death and sacrifice, no doubt – and all of it brings life.

 

Settling requires perspective, then. It requires some acknowledgement that what is done is not done for now, or perhaps for any day you will see; it requires the perspective of leafmould. At one time I grew, and drank in the sun; then I flew, dancing in the rain. Then I settled. I settled in the meadow, and provided shelter. The strength of my form provided a wigwam for woodlice, and raincover for seeds. Next the fungus found me, translating my skeletal form to earth, turning from elastic green to crumbled brown. Then the seed I sheltered, now covered in my dust, began to grow, feeding on all that was left behind of me, so that after my death something remained of me – in the life of the courgette or the marigold. Then the bees drank from their flowers, and I became honey. The settled leaf knows many glories: the glory of drinking from Apollo’s own cup, and of the flying dance, and of sheltering, and of transformation; of nurturing, of fruiting, of becoming ambrosial sweetness.

 

The Windleaves never know half those glories, though, always looking for a better meadow or ditch or woodland to settle in.

 

Find a dell in some chalky hillside, scratched at by badgers, overhung by a willow, and settle.

Monday 12 April 2021

Public Morality is not Cancel Culture

I think a distinction needs to be made between “cancel culture” and “public morality”. I judge that they are both real and observable things, and they can be distinguished. However, in my experience, they are regularly confused. Someone says “us wanting this person deplatformed isn’t cancel culture; it’s just ordinary morality”. Another says “this person shouldn’t be sacked for their views – that’s cancel culture”. Yet often those phrases – “[public] morality”, “cancel culture” – don’t seem apposite.
 
So how can we distinguish the two?
 
Public morality is that set of publicly available and acknowledged set of taboos and mores which guides and guards social behaviour both within and beyond the limits of the law. For our purposes, I really mean that component beyond the strict limits of criminal law.
 
If a neighbour’s child is nasty, you don’t let your children play with them; if you hear a shopkeeper is cruel to his employees, you shop elsewhere; if you employ someone who repeatedly airs vile views in the workplace, you are entitled to discipline and dismiss them. Even free speech absolutists tend to agree with those sorts of penalties for corrosive behaviour. (I invite any to tell me that they send their 5-year-old to the local drug den to hear all views on the subject, of course.)
 
Whatever public morality ought to contain – where the theonomist says “God’s Law” and the utilitarian says “the greater good” and the historicist says “the stable mix of current mores” – it has clear, definable features. It is predictable, known, and enforceable. We all basically know what is and is not acceptable; the situations in which such moral perils may arise are clear to all; and the likely range of consequences is explicit. There are also usually known forms of restoring someone to “neighbourness”, even if that has included, at some places and times, the use of the gallows to put someone back within the social pale.
 
“Cancel culture” does not share these features. Though it is chiefly a feature of the cultural left, it can influence though from any segment of society, so it has no specific moral content – it not simply the taboos of one sect or another. Any view or behaviour that is controversial amongst a subset can be punishable by it. But that is one aspect – “cancel culture” very often operates upon contestable views or behaviour, not on the universally abhorred. Only the subset disapproves. These are not public and known taboos, on the whole.
 
Think of Nicholas and Erica Christakis, whose crime was that they consistently defeated free speech and expression at Yale – by defending both satire of the institution and its wealthiest attendees by minority-background students, and arguing against regulation of Halloween costumes. Fairly innocuous views, both – but both controversial to subgroups, and the latter a cause celebré that signalled the rise of “cancel culture”, as students campaigned for the Christakises to be disciplined.
 
The contented nature of sins which excite “cancel culture” is only one feature. Another is the endlessly shifting nature of what constitutes crimes and what is considered appropriate punishment. Public morality is not just generally agreed, but also public and explicit, even if it may transmogrify over time – it is a slow and fairly reliable process, whether or not one likes any given feature of it. Cancel culture invents crimes on the spot. The New York Times parted company with respected reporter Donald McNeil for using the N-word some two years prior – but not as a slur. McNeil was, by his own account, responding to a student’s question about their own historic (when 12 years old!) use of the slur, and so asked something like “Have you ever used [the N-word] in other contexts?” This was no sort of “knowable sin” even in 2019; it was on a private retreat; it was in the context of advising a vulnerable high school student about whether their old (frankly very minor) sin might have a long shadow. This exercise of grace on McNeil’s part led to an internal letter of 150 NYT employees demanding his apology, and led to his sacking.
 
It is not just the punishment that does not fit here – as absurd and wicked as it obviously is – but the crime does not, either. The accusation against McNeil is one of racism, but no one really claims he used the word as a slur. His greater sin, which caused the internal letter campaign, seems to have been that he off-handedly dismissed the accusation by telling the Washington Post “Don’t believe everything you read”. What crime was McNeil punished for? Like a character in Dostoyevsky or Kafka, nothing in the trial is open to rational enquiry: neither the alleged crime, nor the process of arrest and investigation, nor the final punishment.
 
A last feature of “cancel culture” contrasted to public morality can be seen through the examples of Christakis and McNeil. An inordinate focus of “cancel culture” is on two things: the need for ideological self-abasement by the wicked, and their employment status.
 
Public morality, when acting outside of criminal law, usually limits itself to social relations, unless there is a specific problematic behaviour in the workplace. Cancel culture invariably seeks alteration to employment relations – disciplinary procedures, reorganizations, firings. (Indeed, insomuch as it is a culture much more prevalent on the cultural left, a connection can be drawn – employment is connected to “equity”, and so the wicked do not deserve their jobs. Justice is a raw mathematical exercise, and it relates as much to your skin colour or gender as to your actual sins.)
 
Similarly, social restitution in public morality does not require swearing public adherence to the ideology of subgroups without any connection to the activity undertaken. That is, to remain in your Model Railway Club after some contretemps, you may need to say you care about Model Railways; the connection between being a education researcher like Eric Christakis and needing to support the control of Halloween costumes seems much more tenebrous.
 
We need to learn to distinguish between public morality and cancel culture so that we can defend ordinary social relations, freedom of association, and the rest, whilst being able to meaningfully critique the – ah – structurally unjust machinations of cancel culture. So let me conclude by offering practical “examples” of each.
 
The people of Trendia have always eaten babies. An emerging consensus, however, stands against eating babies; the law changes to remove the VAT exemption on edible babies. It becomes less acceptable to partake. Those relative few who continue experience social consequences, in time, from those who find it an obnoxious habit. They are not invited to dinner by Abstainers as often. A workplace which has a rule banning eating babies on the property disciplines the Baby-Eater for repeatedly consuming them at work, in open defiance of the clear rule. The Baby-Eater may continue eating babies, socialising chiefly with other Baby-Eaters, but accepting limitations in public spaces – or they may join the Abstainers. Perhaps this time public morality is wrong – but in time it may shift again, by slow but clear processes.
 
In neighbouring Fadland, the people also eat babies. Well, actually, now they don’t, as of yesterday. Or at least, some of them don’t (quite rich, influential figures with platforms). But you know what I just heard? A philosophy professor defended eating babies five years ago in a debate. Yes, he was just taking a side for the purpose of the debate, but can’t he see how much harm he was doing? Yes, I was eating babies at the time, so what? I couldn’t help it; I have many extenuating circumstances; but the Professor was powerful and should have known better. He needs to be sacked now. Can I have his job, please?

Tuesday 30 March 2021

Freedom and Peace Require Anti-Democratic Systems

“...the democratic [and unitary] republic is the shortest path to the dictatorship of the proletariat. For such a republic . . . inevitably leads to such an extension, development, unfolding and intensification of this struggle that, as soon as there arises the possibility of satisfying the underlying interests of the oppressed masses, this possibility is realized inevitably and solely through the dictatorship of the proletariat.” – Lenin, ‘State and Revolution’
 
As the saying goes, when somebody tells you who they are, believe them. Lenin’s analysis throughout ‘State and Revolution’ – both of historical dynamics and of the real intentions of Marx and Engels – is brilliant. His forecasting is less certain, but he is quite sanguine and open about the need for some reasonable length period of a bloody-handed terror state “of the proletariat”. The USSR was indeed such a state, though its success on Lenin’s terms is more dubious.
 
So when Lenin says that the state organisation most open to Communist revolution has a certain three components, we should believe him – and if we accept the vast proof of history that Communism is morally vacuous and leads inevitably to mass slaughter on an industrial scale, we will work to prevent all these conditions coinciding. What are those conditions?
 
Democratic: Though of course in Marxist-Leninist theory “democratic” in its noblest form means a coordination of local bottom-up power of communes/Soviets with top-down power of the proletarian state which faithfully seeks the good of the people, democratic in Lenin’s definition here is meant more broadly. It certainly includes representative democracy, where that is moderately franchised and empowered. Of course such a representative democracy is ultimately a tool of capitalism to Lenin, but it is a useful transition stage.
 
Unitary: Not mentioned directly in the quote above, but a vital part of the surrounding discussion – federal republics are notably inferior to Lenin than unitary ones. He accepts there was a historic need for a federal, decentralised republic in the USA, but that it was becoming obsolescent in the developed East; he sees it as a liability in Switzerland; he says it would be an improvement on the United Kingdom’s system; it would be a step backwards in Germany. You see that the exact quality of development of a state is relative to its circumstances and history. Lenin considers that the centralised republic is a better guarantor of democracy than the federal one because it allows more power to flow directly to centres of population, and for wider-ranging measures to be undertaken by the right people in power. Note that really this is simply an explication of “democratic”, in Lenin’s terms.
 
Republic: It is interesting that this is a specific point made by Lenin. He does not mean here a republic in the American sense (i.e. “limited republic” contrasted with “democracy”), but in the executive sense. He desires the abolition of monarchies. Of course, you might chalk this up to pure ideological venom – but it is hard to believe that in such a careful and practical analysis this is the case. It also seems implausible that he could gin up so much venom against the vestigial monarchy of the United Kingdom of 1917. I think he probably more clear-sightedly sees that a monarchy diverts energies and passions away from the democratic forge – even in a constitutional monarchy like the Nordics or Britain, an undemocratic figure of reverence dissipates proletarian zeal. At any rate, this too is really a “democratic” constitutional feature.
 
Now the key question: why is this particular combination of constitutional features so germane to the future dictatorship of the proletariat? Because it leads to the “development, unfolding and intensification of this struggle”. Class struggle develops, unfolds, and intensifies under the unitary democratic republic, because the mediating institutions and natural stays on class struggle have been crippled. Marx, Engels, and Lenin see the state as a way in which one class enforces its will against the other classes – it is a management of class relations. Therefore, according to their logic, you should want to render that class arrangement as unstable as possible, and increasingly open to revolutionary vanguards.
 
Now even if we take a more benign view of the state’s effect on class relations – if we believe that it often serves as the most effective and least destructive balancer of class interests available – we can accept Lenin’s conclusion. There may well be certain political conditions more conducive to an intensified class struggle than others, and as a matter of historical fact, certain social and political developments have generally preceded “popular” revolutions. France in 1789, Russia in 1905/1917, Cuba in the late 50s, and even China in 1911 were all “modernizing” nations with growing wealth more widely distributed across the population. That wealth distribution remained, nonetheless, strained and uneven just as communications and education spread the possibility of intelligible dissatisfaction. That dissatisfaction becomes foment, and from the foment many foul bubbles issue forth, all brewing toward tyranny. A growing, educated, democratically-inclined middle class is a severe danger to the peace of a nation, and must be managed with the utmost care by the hands of the state to prevent disaster.
 
Before I proceed to my conclusion from Lenin’s thesis, it must be frankly admitted that he seems – at a very brief glance – to be have been wrong. Those four sample Revolutions did not occur, surely, in unitary democratic republics, did they? But not so fast: first, in general, his principle may be indicatively right if not specifically right, insomuch as it points to general conditions and patterns.
 
Second, and much more to the point, many Revolutions have happened against the very background of a “unitary democratic republic”. The two great Revolutions of the 19th century were, to the Communists, those of 1848 and 1870 in France. The former generated a unitary democratic republic – which soon fell to dissension. The radicals did not win that bout, with Louis Napoleon declaring the Second Empire instead. The latter Revolution was again a secondary effect, with Louis Napoleon captured and deposed by the Prussians; the Communards of Paris rose against their own republican government, feeding off the democratic and radical fervour of the “day of freedom”.
 
Russia and China, in fact, offer something of the same pattern. Yes, in February 1917, the Kadets and SRs and Mensheviks overthrew the Tsar – and founded a unitary democratic republic, becoming all the more unitary as the Soviets were subsumed. It was against that background that Lenin overthrew the Kerensky Government, and it was with the unified state machinery that he suppressed the election results of 1918. China, too, did see its first revolution lead to a pseudo-unitary pseudo-democratic pseudo-republic (it was complex, okay?). The many ructures over three decades led eventually to Chiang crushing the warlords and surviving the Japanese – only for that unified state to be taken by Mao and his Communists.
 
Lenin’s idea of historical development is not watertight, but it is generally successful as an explanatory device. Levelling, centralization, and bureaucratization are not neutral or technocratic or mitigatory processes – they are ultimately a political solvent. (There is sometimes a temporary purpose for a solvent, of course, but its abuse leads to many nightmares.)
 
So my central response to Lenin is this: if one rejects his view of the state as malignly oppressing subaltern classes, but instead believes that it can and ought to serve a regulatory role between classes; and if one recognizes the clear historical process he identifies; then one must make every political effort to prevent the full confluence of the dissolving factors (democracy, the unitary state, and the republic) gathering in one’s state.
 
Now, it may be fairly said that one or more of these has seemed to exist in relative stability in many, many states over time. Sometimes a solvent has its use. But this is because the component – often of long custom and with many checks – has reached an equilibrium with more solid components of the constitution. Britain extended the franchise with only delayed ructure several times in the 19th and 20th centuries – but was renowned through much of that time, including to Lenin, as having an extremely vestigial central state apparatus at home, all whilst under the nominal reign of a hereditary monarch. Many Imperial Chinas – including the current one – have complex bureaucratic systems recruiting for and empowering the centralised state, but there has never been a corresponding democracy, and often only the myth of a republic.
 
I am not, then, arguing against any democracy, or any unitary power, or any republic, as if in a particular local dynamic one of those elements might not work well or be needful. I am saying that you can have wine or ale or Scotch, but not all three in a punch bowl. Selection and localisation is required.
 
With all this in mind, we may identify the manoeuvres of modern day radicals for what they are. When a British person calls for a republic, an extension of the franchise to age 16, and a more powerful administrative state (the state they regularly condemn, remember), they are not in good faith, seeking peaceful solutions for social ills. They desire the fundamental destabilisation of the rather decayed house in which we all live. They would rather topple it, with our children in it, so as to rebuild on some secret blueprint, rather than repair and beautify. When American radicals call for race-based equity programmes and the abolition of their filibuster and the geographic balance of the Senate, they are not calling for any equity that will happen in history. We know how their plans will go, in the end (and they will be as disappointed, deep down, as anyone).
 
The British Monarchy and the American Senate and German Federalism and the old University seats and hereditary Lords and the tradition of finding a reluctant town doctor for your Congressman – these are not merely good old traditions, a fine brocade depicting the ideal of noblesse oblige, an honouring of the localities, a realization of the power of land, a tradition of service, or whatever else. They are those, and much more, and to be vigorously preserved where this age of destruction has not taken them. But to our purpose, let me describe the great advantage of these institutions and social traditions.
 
When you bully a reluctant town doctor to go and represent you, knowing he disagrees with you on many things, and scarcely wants to do the job except out of duty, with him knowing you may kick him out at the next election, but also knowing that in Washington he will be his own man of honour and dignity – then you will not end up with some little theorist or career climber. You may find that devolving power to the localities is inefficient, but an empowered locality is much more liable to successfully resist the overreach of a meddling state than a bureaucratic sub-office of that state. No-one has ever pretended, in England, that hereditary Lords are natively wiser than their neighbour – but they don’t need political patronage, and for a long time they were raised in such a way that they shed proportionately more blood for their nation than any other section, bonding those sections both on the land and at war. And a geographically-based US Senate ensures that the proletariat may never patronisingly say “See, farmers, you are economically vulnerable; you need our vanguard; we are the only ones who can politically succeed.” Wyoming may always turn round and send its two Senators with a polite refusal.
 
If you desire stability, peace, and a modicum of private freedom – preferring the flawed real to the perfect delusion of radicalism and Communism – then you must, in all circumstances, seek to prevent the thorough “democratization” of your state.