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Man is inevitably inclined to unhappiness while in this world. This is a settled fact, and not even the most daring champions of man’s natural goodness (like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, of the Reformed Church of Geneva, or Francis I, of the Catholic Church of Rome) would deny that, always, in some corner of the human soul, a longing, a desire, or at least a hope, will remain unfulfilled.
Catholics are well aware of this because we know that we are not made for this world and that only in the next, in the infinite fullness of the Divine Presence, has God solemnly promised to “wipe away every tear.” Yet, one does not need to profess the Catholic Faith to recognize this evident truth, which all respectable pagan peoples have known how to express with greater or lesser success. The sublime pre-Columbian verses of the renowned Tiquitoa resonate with melancholy as they sing, “not forever on earth.”
There are unfulfilled longings and hopes specific to certain eras and places, which, in the infinitely complex yet simple plan of Providence, have often spurred certain “movements in history.”
The advocates of Progress, the innate goodness of man, and a perfect world owe it to themselves to demonstrate, in one way or another, that these nostalgias, longings, and frustrations are remnants of a less progressive past that can be overcome with a suitable dose of positive thinking, dialogue, and collective unity to finally fulfill the legitimate aspirations of every individual and people in this world. They – who believe only in matter (though they deny knowing it) – accuse us, who know both matter and spirit, of being the ones who believe in utopias and ideal worlds that transcend true reality. Even if this were so, we do not foster absurd aspirations of perfection in this vale of tears. The “utopia” of Eternal Life bears the testimony of a God who has revealed Himself and even became man, and there is no evidence to prove His supposed non-existence. Even so, our hope for perfection and, why not, full realization rests on an Afterlife, which at least is not constantly contradicted by a reality that resists submission to the petty tyrants of the World of Ideas. Various socialist, Marxist, and liberal utopias face a principle of destruction that the accumulation of scholarly publications cannot match: man, in his essence, is not socialist, Marxist, or liberal; he is simply man. His legitimate aspirations can only be fulfilled by a good that is proportionate to his nature, and no ideologue in the world, who did not himself create man, can devise such a good. Only the Author of nature can fulfill His creatures. Therefore, Catholics accept our partial joys and abundant sufferings. Catholics do not propose utopian solutions that would provide stable, lasting happiness within this vale of tears; instead, we seek what is needed to attain the lasting, stable happiness of Life in God.
Traditional society is not yet another theoretical project, founded on logically irrefutable principles but utterly detached from reality, that some intellectual – well-versed in Western classics but ignorant of his next-door neighbor – jotted down in pursuit of becoming the Grand Architect of a new society. Despite being placed by some historians of thought among the outlandish political theories of the 19th century, traditional society is far from resembling any idealistic projects, Left or Right. This is precisely because traditional society is not idealistic, and its theorists, who brilliantly outlined its fundamental lines, always had one eye on the immutable Principles and the other on things that exist and continually change. Traditional thought, when it fiercely engages with contemporary society, does not demand frantically, like the communist, liberal democrat, or Falangist, “Thus, according to this Ideal (which I just invented), this is how you should be if you want to be perfect.” Rather, traditional thought faces our society with calm and composure, saying gently, “This is how you were until quite recently, striving with effort, though always destined for an inevitable final failure, to come as close as possible to your own perfection, which you could neither achieve by yourself nor was promised to you in this world.”
Traditional society, nearly infinitely perfectible (at least as long as this world lasts), is the only political project that has already been tested and can boast of having actually existed and of having achieved a fairly reasonable degree of success. Its ultimate aim was always to contribute to the sanctification of its citizens by providing everything needed to the divinely instituted society that works for the salvation of men, as long as it did not compromise its own specific obligations as an earthly society. In other words, the Catholic Monarchy’s duty was to provide the Church with all it might need to fulfill its mission, as long as such support did not harm the Monarchy’s entrusted duties. But you know all of this already.
The topic at hand, which we will address over several weeks, is not constructive but defensive. Traditionalists, rightly or wrongly, are accused of suffering from a strange spiritual ailment with a single symptom: the communal. “A ghost is haunting Europe (and the United States): a dark specter in the form of nostalgia for a lost paradise, beloved by traditionalists despite never having known it.” Traditionalists are thus branded as dreamers, indulging in the loss of a world completely alien to them and one they themselves could not endure if it returned. Traditionalism is thus portrayed as a most insidious affliction of the spirit, characterized by the irrational longing for a social and political organization that no normal human being could possibly desire; or, as some joke crudely, “I, too, support going back to the Middle Ages – provided I get to be a bishop, not a serf.” Furthermore, traditionalism leads to the unresolved paradox of engendering in its followers an inconceivable nostalgia, as one cannot long for or miss what they have never known: “To desire the return of a closed society is something conceivable only in someone who lives and enjoys the benefits of an open society.” But we would add: if traditionalism is a nostalgia, a melancholic hope for the return of a time when a single and common Ideal prevailed, we traditionalists have always been the most miserable beings, for we also know that ideals are unattainable: “Carlism, yes, but not forever on earth.”
We traditionalists are many things, but many of the labels, grotesque reductions, and mockeries – filled with ignorance – directed at us by some of our adversaries could mislead the uninitiated. Here, we seek to clarify what we traditionalists are not, while other, more skilled writers in this house explain what we are with perseverance, patience, and finesse.
Because, ultimately, we traditionalists are not advocates of retreating into a kind of provincial sect, solely devoted to our peculiar devotions on the Throne and on the Altar, free from any mingling or contagion with the unfortunate infidels; nor do we hold to a political doctrine so manifestly absurd as to think that the Christian reform of society must be achieved exclusively from the highest levels of power. We believe in good laws, but, for that reason, we seek virtuous citizens (that is, saints). And knowing that sainthood is securely reached only when the treacherous waters of this world are left behind, we are fully convinced that the most complete and perfect Christendom will never be the most perfect or complete. We traditionalists do not believe the Catholic Monarchy to be the best possible regime, just as we do not believe that this world is the best possible world, because neither has ever been in a state of finality (or “perfection,” in its strictest etymological sense). We believe that the world itself, like political organization and the moral life of any individual, even when apparently good, never loses a bit of its internal tension and struggle: no one ascends to the altars without having breathed their last, and no nation or political system has been promised eternal life. The society we traditionalists defend is the one most likely to contribute to the sanctification of its members. Sanctification is a long and arduous process that may well benefit from all the help the City can provide, but in the end, it will last, yet not forever on Earth.
G. García-Vao
Translated by the San Jerónimo Guild
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