The Social Justice Warriors and the Alt-Right Are More Alike than Not

In Germany, in the 1920s and early 1930s, communists and Nazis were fierce antagonists; they protested against each other and sometimes brawled in the streets. Only a month after Adolf Hitler became Chancellor of Germany, Nazis blamed an arson attack on the Reichstag on communist conspirators and so cemented their hold on power.

The Nazis and the German communists had many similarities–the Nazis were nationalist socialists while the Communists were international socialists.

Fast forward to today. I think Brendan O’Neill makes a fair point below. To be clear, I do not think it is unavoidable or defensible that white supremacy would be a reaction to the excesses of racial identity politics, but I think there is a connection.

 

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“Anhedonia and Internal Emptiness”

The zeitgeist of our generation:

It’s of some interest that the lively arts of the millenial U.S.A. treat anhedonia and internal emptiness as hip and cool. It’s maybe the vestiges of the Romantic glorification of Weltschmerz, which means world-weariness or hip ennui. Maybe it’s the fact that most of the arts here are produced by world-weary and sophisticated older people and then consumed by younger people who not only consume art but study it for clues on how to be cool, hip – and keep in mind that, for kids and younger people, to be hip and cool is the same as to be admired and accepted and included and so Unalone. Forget so-called peer-pressure. It’s more like peer-hunger. No? We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded encagement in the self. Once we’ve hit this age, we will now give or take anything, wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young. The U.S. arts are our guide to inclusion. A how-to. We are shown how to fashion masks of ennui and jaded irony at a young age where the face is fictile enough to assume the shape of whatever it wears. And then it’s stuck there, the weary cynicism that saves us from gooey sentiment and unsophisticated naivete. Sentiment equals naïveté on this continent…

…Hal, who’s empty but not dumb, theorizes privately that what passes for hip cynical transcendence of sentiment is really some kind of fear of being really human, since to be really human (at least as he conceptualizes it) is probably to be unavoidably sentimental and naive and goo-prone and generally pathetic, is to be in some basic interior way forever infantile, some sort of not-quite-right-looking infant dragging itself analytically around the map, with big wet eyes and froggy-soft skin, huge skull, gooey drool. One of the really American things about Hal, probably, is the way he despises what it is he’s really lonely for: this hideous internal self, incontinent of sentiment and need, that pules and writhes just under the hip empty mask, anhedonia.

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

Farewell, Facebook

On August 15, 2007, I joined Facebook. On August 15, 2017, I will be leaving. It’s been a wonderful decade using the site. When I first joined, I only knew two people who used it, though it had already exploded in popularity. When I leave, 831 people will have one fewer “Friend” in Facebook parlance, although of course my friendships in the true sense have not changed. I have my reasons for leaving, as you’ll read below, but I still believe the site is valuable and one of our generation’s most intriguing innovations. But we need to think about how we use it.

I’ve often defended Facebook to my friends, and I realize now that when I was an acting as an evangelist for the site, it was because I wanted the people I was talking to to be part of my social network. The more people I care about there are on Facebook, the more likely I am to use the tool. But now that Facebook has essentially reached 100% penetration among my loved ones, I’m throwing in the towel. Why?

All of us who use Facebook have become inured to the numerous downsides. Being able to connect with our friends and people whose thinking we admire is certainly a great thing, and a lot of other things would have to be wrong with Facebook for it to tip the scales towards abandoning the site.

But that’s where I am. For me, there were two drivers behind my decision. I will talk about each in turn.

  1. The fighting

This is something almost everyone mentions when you ask them about Facebook. But what specifically bothers me is the fighting between people I admire, over issues I care about, where I can see both sides of the story. For example, when Tim Keller (whom I admire) was recently called out by other people whom I admire for a slightly dodgy statement about the Trinity, I felt both the necessity to talk about the Trinity in accurate terms, and the danger of creating a sort of “Trinity police” that would review all statements regarding the Godhead to ensure that they did not include any heresy, or thoughtcrime.

Of course, this sort of infighting isn’t unique to Facebook, but for me, Facebook brings it to the front of my mind. (I want to emphasize the personal aspect here, because other people thrive in the intellectual debate between people across the world that Facebook makes possible). Facebook does not bring out the peacemaking side of my personality. My personality is divided between the impulse to find common ground between two sides, and the impulse to interject with a witty or sarcastic comment that moves the discussion forward not an inch. In that sense, Facebook has made me a bad peacemaker and a bad debater.

2. The addiction

I recently finished David Foster Wallace’s novel Infinite Jest. One of the central concerns of the book is a fatally seductive bootleg film, referred to most of the time simply as “The Entertainment,” although its title is in fact Infinite Jest. Anyone who watches even a few seconds of “The Entertainment” is consumed with the desire to keep watching it. If the viewer is given his way, he will watch “The Entertainment,” forgetting to eat, sleep, or use the toilet, until death by starvation. Even if the viewer is unable to continue watching “The Entertainment,” he will refuse food and become catatonic with desire and eventually die in much the same way.

In Infinite Jest, almost every character displays some form of addiction to everything from marijuana to alcohol to sex. Reading the book with even a cursory knowledge of Wallace’s own struggle with narcotics gives the heartrending depictions of addiction a creepily autobiographical aspect. “The Entertainment” is the apogee of addiction; it gives pleasure so intense that life itself becomes worthless in comparison.

Facebook is for most people, including, I hope, myself, a pleasant diversion, rather than a crippling and life-sucking addiction. But a pleasant diversion that extends across so many minutes for so many days and weeks– eventually, an entire decade–must become something else.

The longest time I previously went without Facebook was 5-6 days, in 2010 or so. Because, like many users, I check Facebook compulsively, a conservative estimate puts my total number of clicks to Facebook 36,000. A little more math allows me to see that I’ve probably spent somewhere between 12-20 days on Facebook in the last decade. That’s not a huge amount when you consider that I’ve spent 1,216 days sleeping in the same time period, but if every minute of every hour of our lives holds significance, then those are days for which I will one day be called to give account.

I am not leaving Facebook permanently. Or at least, I haven’t decided to do so yet. I will be completely deleting my account (so that if I do come back, I will have a clean slate). I will be taking a one-month sabbatical at least, which I will probably extend for months, perhaps even years, perhaps permanently.

I don’t anticipate that my life will change enormously as a result of this. I won’t become a better person overnight. I will probably use much of the time I save from not compulsively checking Facebook checking other sites or wasting time in other ways. But this is a part of my quest to take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ. Wish me luck, my friends!

 

Beauty in Sodom: In Defense of Secular Culture

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The greatest [secular] band of our time.
I am currently listening to [the secular band] Radiohead’s magisterial 2006 album In Rainbows, specifically the [secular] song “Bodysnatchers.” I have just read Joshua Gibbs’ post on the Circe Institute blog, in which he reveals that he is selling his popular music collection and that, for Lent anyway, will only be listening to music over 100 years old. But he goes further than that, attacking the Christian project of “cultural engagement” in its various confused forms:

For some, engaging the culture means inviting neighbors for dinner. For some, making subtly Christian films which will soften the hearts of unsuspecting secularists. For some, public debates with local scientists. And for some, “engaging the culture” means writing think pieces about how the latest Kanye West record reveals his latent desire for a Savior.

Leaving aside the idea that maybe some or all of these things could be considered rightly within the “big tent” of Christian cultural engagement, Gibbs has a point. And he doesn’t stop there. One by one, he takes apart his own reasons for listening to Kanye, Drake–even Radiohead, or watching popular secular film. His ultimate defense, he says, was St. Paul’s Mars Hill sermon, in which Paul clearly displays a knowledge of secular idol worship and secular poets — enough to engage with his Athenian audience.

But as Gibbs points out, Paul’s example isn’t quite how he had portrayed it in his mind. For example, the pagan poet Paul quoted to his audience had written hundreds of years before. It would be more like quoting Shakespeare in our time than Rihanna. As Gibbs approaches his conclusion, he gets more stark:

Popular music glorifies a bad situation but offers no direction. A spirit of searching and longing attends the best pop music, though the search is aimless and the longing arbitrary, unformed. Rachmaninoff’s Vespers (Op. 37) is also about longing, though it lacks the craft cool of Modern Vampires of the City or the high vaulted passion of The Joshua Tree. Rachmaninoff cannot offer any Christ-haunted cosmopolitan thrills, for he is not haunted by Christ, but inhabited by Him.

Finally, Gibbs is convinced that his previous deep indulgence in secular music and film may be a cause for judgment. “Repent,” he concludes. “The judgment of your motives is at hand. The judgment of your tastes is at hand.”

To be sure, our motives and our tastes will come under the judgment of the Son of God, when all of us will stand before his throne and give account. But I think Gibbs is too hasty in his rejection of popular music and culture. In fact, I think he is committing a grave error.

It is our Christian duty to seek after righteousness (which is beautiful), and to nurture it where we find it. How can we do this if we shut off for ourselves the glorious stream of humanity, which some may call secular culture but which we could, if we take the long view, call “culture, soon to be redeemed?”

I’m not sure that listening to secular music, even a record as important and near-perfect as Radiohead’s In Rainbows, has contributed to my growth in wisdom. But it certainly has helped me perceive and identify beauty, wherever it may be found. And it may be found everywhere. And it is our duty to seek it out.

Where is beauty? It may not be where we expect it, or where we want to find it. Dostoevsky says, “Is there beauty in Sodom? Believe me, that for the immense mass of mankind beauty is found in Sodom. Did you know that secret? The awful thing is that beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield is the heart of man.”

The victory of God in this battlefield does not entail the Christian leaving beauty behind, but it will mean leaving Sodom behind. God will use the Christian to take the beauty that is in Sodom, and bring it in His train to Jerusalem. So it is our Christian duty to divest Sodom of its beauty, appreciating all the while that whatever is beautiful is good, and whatever is good is of God.

If Gibbs throws out “new” music because of its newness, and devote himself to music that is more than a century old instead, he will commit chronological snobbery, and furthermore all men through all times are under judgment as sinners. The musicians of the past were, taking everything together, not better people than those of today. Rachmaninov was a great composer, perhaps even “Christ-inhabited” as Gibbs asserts. But his near contemporary, Igor Stravinsky, was not (at the time) so blessed. He wrote The Rite of Spring, a celebration of paganism that no modern artist has yet to match. [It is important to note that Stravinsky later became a devout believer in the Russian Orthodox Church.] If Gibbs avoids the last century of music, he will miss the great wealth of Christian music to come out of Africa and Asia, with their burgeoning and joyful populations of Christians.

It might be easier to give up on popular culture than to redeem it, to consign it to the godless who always seem to have the upper hand. “Redeeming culture” is the tiredest of tired phrases, but it is not a tired concept. It is where the great Christians of the last centuries, for the most part, have heard Christ’s call. Many of them have believed, as I do, that cultural engagement (perhaps a redefined and discerning version thereof) is one of the avenues by which Christ will save the world. Here is G.K. Chesterton:

Things can be irrelevant to the proposition that Christianity is false, but nothing can be irrelevant to the proposition that Christianity is true…All things not only may have something to do with the Christian God, but must have something to do with Him if He lives and reigns.

What are we leaving behind, if under the guise of faithfulness we leave behind popular culture and any prospect of redeeming it, and head for the hinterland of culture? Let’s think long and hard before we start on our journey. As part of our research, I would assign the Radiohead album In Rainbows.

Common Good, Common Ground, Common Sense: Welcome to the American Solidarity Party

12718126_616210021881478_34948“When offered a choice between two politically intolerable alternatives, it is important to choose neither.”

-Alisdair McIntyre

The two major-party candidates in this election are not just liars and panderers in the way politicians are. Many Americans, an unprecedented number, believe that Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton belong in a criminal trial rather than on a presidential ballot. This man and this woman represent the nadir of American politics; they are manipulated by the New York moneymen and the demagogues of both parties, and they represent the very worst of the American elite.

Most people know this or suspect it, but they are willing to hold their noses and pick one of them anyway. I think that’s exactly the wrong solution.

Why should we only have two choices, especially when the choices are this bad? Other democracies don’t create a false dichotomy for themselves in the way we do. As much as anything else, my third-party vote is a protest against the injustices of the two-party system. But it’s also more than that.

I chose the American Solidarity Party simply because the party complements my political and religious beliefs far better than the Republican Party or the Democratic Party ever have. So, what does the American Solidarity Party believe? Why should you vote for them on Tuesday?

Basically, to understand the ASP, you need to have a handle on these three terms: Catholic Social Teaching, Distributism, and Subsidiarity. Nota bene: ASP is not a Catholic party per se, but it’s founded on largely Catholic ideas and 80% of the membership is Catholic or Orthodox. I, for one, would like to recruit more Protestants.

What is Catholic Social Teaching (CST?) A framework of political and social thought steeped in the doctrine of historical Christianity and brought into concrete form by a series of popes in a series of encyclicals (letters sent by the pope to bishops in the church). The Conference of Catholic Bishops lists seven tenets of CST, all of which form a part of the American Solidarity Party Platform. CST is distinctive in that it cannot be categorized as left-wing or right-wing. It has been carefully shaped into something that is a genuine Third Way, with meaty critiques of the ideologies of the Left and the Right. Although I am a Reformed Protestant, I find Catholic Social Teaching to be incredibly valuable. For more information, here’s the Wikipedia page on CST, which is accurate and helpful.

What is Distributism? Distributism is a political and economic philosophy first dreamed up by the Catholic thinkers G.K. Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc. Distributists believe that ownership of property and tools is part of political power, and so ownership should be as widely distributed as possible. Workers should own all or a portion of the means of their own production. Distributism can be simple and uncoerced (credit unions, co-ops, employee-owned corporations), or it can be more complex and coercive, as in Taiwan’s postwar Land-to-the-Tiller program, which distributed ownership of thousands of acres of land to the tenant farmers who tilled it. I think there are some important lessons in Distributist thought for our capitalist society–it’s important to stress that most modern Distributists would say that Distributism can come about through a grassroots, compassionate Capitalist movement rather than by government edict.

What is Subsidiarity? The idea that power and decision-making abilities should reside at the lowest practicable level. I like to think of this in financial terms: why does the federal government collect my income tax, and disburse money to the states and eventually to the municipalities for schools, Medicare, etc.? Why don’t municipalities and states collect the bulk of taxes, and remit to the federal government only what is necessary? This is a political principle that, although radical, is widely agreed to be wise policy. Of all the things the ASP advocates, this is probably the most revolutionary and, paradoxically, the least controversial. Having important policies determined in your area, instead of in Washington D.C., has its own pitfalls, but the very idea of it excites people.

Out of these three ideas spring the whole of the ASP platform. Here are a few policies the ASP advocates, chosen nearly at random:

  • All military activities must adhere to Just War principles (this goes back to Augustine)
  • “[S]trict accountability in the use of lethal force by officers of the peace.”
  • “We oppose the privatization of Social Security and other public pension systems.”
  • “We oppose the sudden elimination or reduction of income supports such as welfare, food stamps, and unemployment insurance, when no other safety net is in place.”

  • “We support constitutional and legal measures that establish the Right to Life from conception until natural death.”

  • “We call for an end to capital punishment.”

You may not agree with all of these policies–in fact, it would be surprising if you did. But go read the Republican or Democratic platforms and you will see what a breath of fresh air this is. Yes, I get it, it will be a Republican or a Democrat in the White House next January, just as it has been since any of us can remember. But the huge dissatisfaction with both candidates is also an opportunity: if the system is failing spectacularly, change the system. Vote third party. Vote American Solidarity Party.

But the huge dissatisfaction with both candidates is also an opportunity: if the system is failing spectacularly, change the system. Vote third party. Vote American Solidarity Party.

Is it crazy? Well, Father Zosima was asked a similar question in The Brothers Karamazov (quoted in this great piece on the ASP in First Things).

[W]e must keep the banner flying. Sometimes even if he has to do it alone, and his conduct seems to be crazy, a man must set an example, and so draw men’s souls out of their solitude, and spur them to some act of brotherly love even if he seems crazy, so that the great idea may not die.

I don’t think it’s crazy, but so what if it is? It’s a great idea–let’s keep it alive.

Stepping off a Sinking Ship: Leaving the Republican Party for Something Better

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In the official platform of the Republican Party, curtailing abortion is mentioned 35 times. It is obviously important to Republicans that abortion be severely limited, and eventually banned. So why has the party nominated someone for president who was, for most of his life, “strongly” pro-choice? Earlier this year, Donald Trump, our “pro-life” candidate, held five different positions on abortion in three days. Trump’s nomination has weakened, and will perhaps sink, the Republican party.

The party that nominated Trump is pro-life and pro-trade, and certainly pro-national defense. Trump is, arguably, none of these things. Either there were no better options, or the Republican party has given up attempting to be a truly conservative party, or the Republican party is slowly collapsing. Unfortunately there’s a strong case to be made for the latter.

In our lifetimes, the GOP has aways been divided four ways: between the wealthy, socially liberal defenders of the status quo, like George H.W. Bush, the “movement conservatives” like Newt Gingrich, the “Tea Partiers” like Sarah Palin, and the devout religious conservatives like George W. Bush or Mike Huckabee.

The GOP has only ever been a marriage of convenience between these warring factions. In other countries, they might have formed four different parties. But for decades the Republican Party has played the role of a “big tent,” a partnership of cobelligerents against cultural leftism, high taxes, etc. Now it seems that the big tent is coming apart.

Donald Trump’s nomination reveals a desperate party bereft of ideas, leadership, or passion.

Trump’s main asset to the GOP is that he is newsworthy in both traditional and new media. He is a Kardashian to them, creating instant clickbait in a country at once attracted and repelled by his antics. What is he going to say next? Who is he going to slur now? These are the questions you ask about a shock jock radio personality, not a president. But the 24/7 Trump media circus keeps him at the front of people’s minds, and the old adage that there’s no bad publicity except your obituary rings true: he is trailing Clinton, to be sure–but not nearly as much as he would be if his support were based on his policies instead of his entertainment value.

The smart money predicts the election won’t be close. Republican leaders have been wringing their hands for months about the effect of Trump’s loss “down-ballot,” that is, in state and local elections where thousands of more palatable Republicans will appear on the same ballot as Trump and may suffer the effects of Trump’s likely defeat.

Here’s the problem. I say “more palatable,” but many of these Republicans have cravenly endorsed Trump, against their convictions, for fear of backlash from the Trump-loving base. In fact, only a few prominent Republicans have come out against Trump, although they include big names like Sen. Ben Sasse of Nebraska, House Majority Leader Paul Ryan of Wisconsin, the Bush family, and six–six–former chairmen of the Republican National Committee.

And this leads to an unpleasant question: did Republican voters settle on Trump because there were no other good options? Or do they genuinely share his views and believe, despite all evidence to the contrary, that he is qualified to be president?

Unfortunately, all evidence points to the latter. Donald Trump elicits deep and abiding enthusiasm among a large part of the Republican base: older white men without a college degree, and in almost no other demographic group.

  • The Republican party gets its smallest vote share among Millennials and its highest vote share among voters aged 69-86 (the oldest measured group).
  • The Pew Research Center reports that “…Democrats hold an 80%-11% advantage among blacks, lead by close to three-to-one among Asian Americans (65%-23%) and by more than two-to-one among Hispanics (56%-26%),” while Republicans “hold a 49%-40% lead over the Democrats in leaned party identification among whites.
  • The GOP’s advantage widens to 21 points among white men who have not completed college (54%-33%).”

All of these trends portend bad things for the Republican party: its voters are uneducated, getting older, and they will be demographically outnumbered by growing Hispanic and Asian populations. Unless something changes, the party is headed for a long spell in the wilderness, unable to gain meaningful majorities at the polls or enact its policies at the national level.

But more than demographics, it is those policies themselves that are the problem.

The Republican party has been conservative, championing traditional values and policies, ever since anyone can remember. This has been a great strength, and a weakness. The same party that fights tooth and nail for upholding the Constitution as the framers intended it, and for the rights of the unborn, was slow to embrace civil rights, and as always harbored a disinclination to help the poor and downtrodden. The party stands for a strong national defense, but concomitant with that it advocates dangerous and expensive intervention in foreign conflicts. I could go on — there’s a whole laundry list of Republican policies that aren’t really conservative at all.

Of all the groups within the Republican Party, the “religious right” has to bend over backwards the most to fit in. A party that disdains the poor and advocates for unjust wars shares little in common with the Church of Jesus Christ. And yet if the American Church continues to be joined at the hip to a party that uses it cynically for votes, it will lose its way.

There’s a saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. The Republican party has fooled religious conservatives time and time again. Russell Moore, a Southern Baptist luminary, thinks it’s time for the “religious right,” the once-powerful political arm of faithful right-wing Christians, to fade away. Other respected Christians aren’t so sure. Both Moore and Susannah Black, whose posts are linked above, would agree that there is a third way. They would disagree about the specifics, but I’ve come to my own conclusion.

I’m done with the unceasing cries to “reform the GOP from the inside.” I’m done with the forced dichotomy of the two-party system. I’m done with craven politicians pandering to the religious vote. It’s time for Christians to start thinking for themselves, to stop holding their noses and pulling the lever for the guy with the (R) after his name. It’s time for us to prayerfully consider each candidate and each policy, not according to any worldly standard, but according to Biblical principles and the doctrine of the Church. I’m not the first to say it, and if faithful Christians had been more consistent in our political witness I wouldn’t need to say it now. But here we are.

So I’m pleased to announce that I’ve found something better. In my next post (which is up HERE), I will introduce you to the American Solidarity Party, and perhaps convince you to join me in voting for them. It’s something bigger and better than a protest vote for me–I’ve found a political home. Maybe the ASP can be a home for you, too, in this political wasteland.

Review: “The English and their History” by Robert Tombs

englishThe English and their History by Robert Tombs (Alfred A. Knopf, 2014)

Over the course of 900 pages, Cambridge historian Robert Tombs lays out the stunning history of a people, the English, who have had an outsize effect on the world. From pre-history to 2014 A.D., Tombs tells a succession of gripping stories that will entrap experts and amateurs alike.

If Tombs’ sprawling book has a theme, it is the upending of revisionist theories of English history. Neo-revisionism, I suppose you could call it. A typical passage might state that, on the whole, England bore no more responsibility than other nations (particularly Spain, Portugal, and later the United States) for the growth of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, and did more than any of those nations to end it — contra the revisionist narrative proffered by historians of the left.

Tombs holds up various previous historical ideas up to the light, and in his modest, incredibly well-researched way, finds them wanting. The “Whig version of history” fares particularly poorly. In this enduringly popular genre of historiography, as popular among American progressives today as it was for 18th-century English whigs, history is a story of rampant progress from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom, from ludditism to technological nirvana. This paradigm necessarily makes the past look pretty black, to make the gray present look good by comparison–and Tombs methodically dismantles this by showing how the past and present (or the past and the more recent past) were not as different as the Whig narrative maintains, and that it is damaging to believe otherwise.

The opposite of Whig historiography, at least in Britain, is “declinism,” the largely post-1945 phenomenon of British journalists and historians writing off Britain as a world power, or even as a major force in Europe, due to much-publicized failures like the Suez crisis, deindustrialization, and (more recently) the fairly disastrous British contribution to the Iraq war. Tombs dismantles this narrative with equal quiet fervor, pointing out pesky facts that industrial decline (which no one can deny), happened just as quickly under the woman who is supposed to have doomed British industry (Margaret Thatcher, 1.9% yearly) as it later did under a man who by party affiliation at least was diametrically opposed to her policies (Tony Blair, 1.8% yearly).

The British Empire, subject at various times to both Whig and declinist narratives, gets a fairer, middle-ground treatment here. In fact, that is the enduring value of Tombs’ book. Unlike most academic historians (notably, in my limited reading, Piers Brendon), it is impossible to pigeonhole him as a man of the Left or the Right — he skewers them both with quiet gusto when they need it, and praises them in turn. He does this without suspending moral judgment — some things are certainly right, and others are certainly wrong, and some people belong in one camp or another for advocating such and such.

Tombs covers the English wars of religion evenhandedly and even gives Cromwell a fair hearing. However, at one point, he says something to the effect that the motivations of some English politicians of the early 19th century were difficult for us to understand because they harbored a fervent evangelical faith “nowhere in the modern world, except perhaps in the deepest reaches of the American Bible belt.” Tombs’ own book, much later, gives the lie to this statement by briefly mentioning the vibrant revival of Evangelicalism and Pentecostalism in London itself due to (largely black) devout Christian immigrants from the Commonwealth and elsewhere.

If you would learn about English history, I can’t think of a better place to start. Tombs’ book is more than the sum of its parts. It is the history of a people that is written with such evenhanded clarity that even its method, to say nothing of its well-researched conclusions, has implications for the study of history.