The Enormity of Normality

Times are strange, to say the least. Most people will admit that. Yet, it seems that when a man recognizes this and subsequently rejects a particular, oppressive authority in this modern world he is quickly lumped into a category of being opposed to all authority generally. Disobedience at any level will likely land you be labeled as an anarchist or rebel. To draw a line anywhere is somehow perceived as abolishing all lines everywhere. Never mind the clear and obvious fact that the accusation was prompted by your saying, “Here! This is a line that I believe in!”

The reason for the name-calling is that it shifts the attention—it is an immediate defense mechanism that the accused use in order to make their accusers look lunatic. The “anarachist” or the “rebel” will point out the oppressive behavior and say, “He is to blame.” Then, before any investigation into the legitimacy of the claim can begin, the blamed hurls the diverting label.

Now, ‘anarchy’ is a much abused word. The typical view is that anarchists despise any semblance of order. Some do; but some is not all. Anarchy can simply be a refusal to be governed by particular authorities or by particular manners. To be opposed to a certain order is not the same as opposing order, altogether. Simply because a man rejects certain theoretical physics does not mean he is opposed to physics. As a matter of fact, the contrarian might be opposed because he so staunchly believes in the laws of physics. Likewise, just because we are opposed to the morals of the modern world—its economy and its politics—does not mean that we are opposed to morality. As a matter of fact, we are contrarians because we staunchly believe in morality.

The labels of ‘anarchist’ and ‘rebel’ might be appropriately distracting if what we are suggesting were some brand new world order or some cockamamie scheme. Yet some ‘anarchists’ and ‘rebels’ believe in order, just not this current one that is vastly centralized and largely irresponsive. The faith of these sort of folks is “free, efficient, creative, enjoyable, and enduring.” Consequently, the nemesis of these same folks is “bigness,” which is “impersonal, insensitive, and lusts to concentrate power.” Now, how that means we are gone-bonkers, lunatics, and off-our-rockers, I don’t know. I just think that this means we believe in common decency and the dignity of the human person. As such, we are not espousing any new morality, simply a recognition of the basic morals of life, liberty, and property, not to mention the pursuit of happiness. Despite the perception, we actually have very high standards and very much believe in legitimate authorities.

The problem with modernity is that it has mutilated the ordinary life into something despicable. Normal people are gutted of their spirit and souls as they are further conformed to a mechanical life. We cannot imagine lives where less is more, small is beautiful, and humility is power. The past holds only examples of extraordinary people who resemble the Amish more than ourselves. Yet, I am firmly convinced that despite what the commercial world tries to tell us, that in the heart of every man is a small family farmer. It is the primitive Adam & Eve in each of us. Is this romanticizing the past or violating some rule against nostalgia? Maybe. But at least it lends some meaning to our lives and our labors that our 40-hour week, corporate world do not. Can we really be called dreamers because we believe in something real? Can we really be called silly idealists because we believe in the power of property, work, and material? We’re the spiritualists and the realists, both at the same time. Our position, oddly enough, is quite incarnational.

Modernity is fundamentally opposed to normality. Morality, being the common song of every soul, not only tends toward the normal, but resides therein. ‘Vulgar’ may have a foul connotation, but I’ll take it over modernity, any day. In its purist sense it simply means the common-folk, or the common-place, which may, indeed, have people rough-around-the-edges, but, at least, they have edges. At least they are willing to recognize they are not all-encompassing, that they begin, and they end. As a matter of fact, they end where you begin, and they see that. Vulgarity may not respect silly rules of etiquette from the cultured elite, but it does respect people. Modernity can’t say that—it respects an idea, an abstraction, a vision of progress. The problem with classic liberalism, a professor recently said, is that “it will line a human being up on a wall and shoot him for the sake of the abstraction.”

When will men be men? This is a question Gilbert Keith asks. They will be men when they realize that they are, in fact. When they realize that they are not cogs in a machine, not interchangeable parts. When they realize they are not radicals or anarchists or rebels, at least not in the way that others are supposing and implying. Men will be men when they stop settling for less so that others might have more—we will be men when we assert our right to normal, dignified, and simple lives. We are not relying on dreams or ideals, but real things and moral standards. As G.K. reminds us, when the modern-day Rockefeller says, “You are a rebel!,” you must respond, “No, I am a respectable man, and you are not. You, sir, are a robber.” We are not rebelling, but reclaiming; not proposing new, but relying on old; not opposed to authority, but opposed to usurpation; not asking for the extraordinary, but desiring to be ordinary. Normal lives—lives centered on God, property, family, and hard, life-sustaining work—is what will make men men.