Why do we keep finding ourselves at war?  Why can’t all nations agree to a rules-based international order?

The reason is that what the foreign policy establishment likes to call “rules-based international order” is something like a constitution without a government.  Since there is no overall authority to enforce the rules, the system gives the advantage to rogues, who exploit the reluctance of rule-following states to act against them.

Of course, even without an overall authority, likeminded states can act together to punish violations of the rules.  But reaching agreement to do so is difficult, and the difficulty goes beyond merely getting them to agree.  For how do you do away with the temptation to be a free rider?  If some states agree to enact sanctions, then other states will use the opportunity to cut a deal with the rogue.  In fact, even states which approve the sanctions in principle will be tempted to work around them quietly.

Besides, the goal of those who cherish the idea of a rules-based international order is predictability.  Everyone knows what everyone else will and won’t do under every condition.  So those who aren’t pleased with the status quo game the system, always walking right up to the line and putting their toes a quarter of an inch beyond it.  The temptation of the status quo states is to keep moving the line back.

Thus, without occasional resort to force, the so-called rules-based international order makes certain disruptions of international order more likely rather than less.  And that means less peace rather than more.

We know now that the FBI’s infamous Richmond Memo, targeting traditional Catholics as potential terrorists and comparing them with Islamists, was not merely the product of a few rogues in a single field office, as the agency had claimed.  Multiple offices were involved in drafting it, and it was distributed to over a thousand employees.

This post is not going to be a rant against the Biden administration.  What interests me is what was going on in the analysts’ heads.  I credit them with sincerity.  But why did they think traditional Catholicism is comparable to the ideology of radical Islam?

The most generous interpretation which can be placed on the memo is that the analysts thought of fanaticism simply as strong belief, and assumed that any strong belief is potentially violent.

But a sensible definition of fanaticism would emphasize the content of belief, not its strength.  You aren’t a fanatic for believing very strongly that you should “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.”  The more strongly you believe that, the less likely you are to be a terrorist.

On the other hand, you really are a fanatic for believing that you should “kill them wherever you find them,” meaning Jews and infidels.  The more strongly you believe that, the more likely you are to be a terrorist.

The content of belief did come into the analysts’ definition in one way.  They plainly believed strongly in their own ideology, yet it seems never to have occurred to them to view themselves as fanatics.  It seems, then, that in their view, the term “fanatic” must have meant not just "anyone who believes strongly," but rather something like “Anyone who believes strongly enough in God, rather than in progressive dogma, for his belief to influence the rest of his life” – and the full force of the federal government must be used to surveil and suppress all such people.

So by their definition, yes, traditional Catholics are fanatics.  But by a more sensible definition, which ideology is a better candidate for being called by that label?

Gentle readers:  Not long ago, I was interviewed by Marco Casanova for the Desert Streaming Podcast, and the interview has just been uploaded.  The topic is “Anchored in the Body: Understanding Identity in a Post-Human Age.”  You can go straight to the podcast, or go to my Talks page to see what else there is to see and hear.  Hope you enjoy it!

The word “philosophy” comes from the Greek words for love of wisdom.  Often, though, what we call philosophy isn’t really love of wisdom, but merely love of unsettling received opinions.  This love is often connected with contempt for any beliefs we can’t give reasons for.

Ah, but there are reasons and reasons.  The sort of reason one has in mind when he demands “Why do you believe so and so?” is a reason for so and so which the other fellow believes with even greater confidence than he believes so and so itself.  But there is a problem with demanding that in every case.

Certainly we can demand it in some cases.  I believe that if two glasses have the same amount of milk, and that if I add the same amount of additional milk to each, then they will still have the same amount of milk.  Why do I believe that they will?  Because equals added to equals are equal.   I am much more confident that equals added to equals are equal, than I am about my perceptions of milk.  Very good.

But why do I believe that I am sitting at my desk, writing about the matter?  Sure, I could give “reasons” of a sort.  I believe that I seem to be doing that.  I believe that I remember sitting down.  I believe that don’t remember getting back up.  But although I am confident of those reasons too, I couldn’t say that I am more confident about them than I am that I am sitting at my desk.  They aren’t that kind of reason.

In fact, I seem more confident of some of my beliefs than I am of any of the reasons I might give for holding them.  For example, I could certainly trace my belief “It’s wrong the twist the baby’s arm” to still deeper premises.  But is that why I believe it?  Probably not.  And that’s okay.  It is wrong.

Matters of common sense which we believe even more than any of the reasons we might give for believing them are sometimes called “Moorean beliefs,” after the late philosopher G.E. Moore, who wrote about them in a famous article entitled “A Defense of Common Sense.”  I happen to be thinking about them today because of a new book by Brian Besong, which defends natural law sexual ethics in terms of Moorean beliefs.

The book, called Sex in Theory, is coming out in August, and I know about it because I was asked for a blurb.  “At the very least,” I wrote, “a good moral theory should be able to explain our most obvious and deeply rooted beliefs and intuitions about right and wrong.  Analytical philosopher Brian Besong convincingly shows that by this test, most theories of the rights and wrongs of sex spectacularly fail the test. Utilitarianism, for example, can’t explain the problem with bestiality, and Kantianism can’t even tell what is right about the natural intercourse of husband and wife. Exactly one theory passes the test:  Natural law.  This book is a truly fine contribution not only to the theory of sexuality, but to the renaissance of the natural law tradition.”

Very interesting.  It’s not an easy read for non-philosophers, but I recommend it.

“The science is finally settled on this one,” reads this magnificent specimen of reasoning: “people who consistently make good decisions enjoy an undeniable and unfair advantage in life.”  No, it is not a satire.

Silly me, I always thought making good decisions is “merely a matter of luck.”  Amazingly, say the authors, it’s not!  Then could it have something to do with prudence?  Not that either!  What a relief!  But why doesn’t it?  Because actually, good decisions result from a “virtuous cycle.”

A virtuous cycle sounds like a good thing, doesn’t it?  Wrong again.  “Good decisions lead to better outcomes,” we find, “which in turn provide more opportunities and resources to make even better decisions in the future.”  But by definition, all such advantages are “ill-gotten,” because deriving benefit from good decisions is unfair to everyone else.  This is why “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.”

And that’s not all.  Consider that virtuous cycle again.  If good decisions lead to good results, and if good results lead to still more good decisions, ad infinitum, then we have a “compounding accumulation of ill-gotten advantages.”

“Compounding” – where have we heard that word before?  Why, that’s just like compound interest!  And you know what that implies!  As the authors explain, “You need not have listened to many Warren Buffett lectures to get the less than subtle hint that this good decision-making is inextricably linked to capitalism.”

For the sake of equity, from now on I will try to make all my decisions foolishly.

I’m so glad that “the science is finally settled on this one.”