Simone Weil and nationalism (4)

Some comments on Weil

Weil's proposed Christian nationalism is in most respects an attractive idea, and something resembling it should doubtless be encouraged. However, it seems likely that such a nationalism, if it had to stand on its own, unsupported by more traditional nationalistic motives, would prove to be somewhat feeble. Yes, it is a good thing to value a country as a means to the satisfaction of the needs of individuals, and to treasure it all the more because of its fragility in the face of historical forces. On the other hand, regarding a nation solely in such utilitarian terms is perhaps insufficient to produce a citizenry who are disposed to sacrifice themselves on its behalf. Nor, probably, is everyone capable of appreciating the beauty inherent in fragility.

In renouncing the admiration of power, Weil is probably making a serious mistake. If we do not admire strength, we may not bother to cultivate it, even if it is necessary as a means to other ends we do support. It is natural and healthy to admire strength and to wish to be strong. The key, as classical ethics (as described by Josef Pieper, for example) would recognize, is to subordinate strength to higher purposes, rather than to idolize it as the supreme end; this is true on the national as well as the personal level. We ought to acknowledge that power, physical or otherwise, is a gift and a responsibility, rather than something that is created by and at the disposal of our own egos. Admittedly, to look on power in these ways may be difficult, especially where our grasp of higher values is shaky, as nowadays. Perhaps the Romans suffered only limited harm by deifying national power, because they were for most of their history polytheists, and so could keep other gods in mind as well.

Weil's attitude to the Romans strikes me as wrongheaded and dangerous (though it is apparently also backed by another major thinker, Bernanos). It is reminiscent of those leftists who denounce as "fascist" everything to their right on the political spectrum. Rome was not Nazi Germany. Nazi Germany was revolutionary; Rome was profoundly conservative. Nazi Germany's "thousand-year Reich" was a mere advertising slogan; Rome really did endure for a thousand years and more. Rome had a concept of justice, even if it was inferior to ours in some respects; the Nazis jeered at the name of justice. Rome contributed a knowledge of government and law to the world; the main scientific contribution of Nazism was probably in the theory of manipulation of minds through propaganda. The power-lust of Rome in its age of imperial expansion did not extend to the totalitarian organization of life.

In rejecting the cultural legacies both of pre-Christian Rome and of Judaism, Weil is in effect espousing an etherealized Christianity, one that has no foundation in worldly existence—though she does open the possibility of restoring such a foundation by accepting the Greek side of the classical inheritance. It has been pointed out by F. Schuon, for example, that Christianity is an esoteric religion that has been extended to the masses. Such a religion is probably viable only in combination with an exoteric foundation, which might, in the case of Christianity, be drawn either from classical culture or from Judaism. What happens if one rejects this foundation? One is then left with an extremely demanding religion whose requirements few people are capable of meeting. Such a religion scarcely distinguishes between the radically evil and the ordinary: both fall short of the critical level necessary for salvation of the soul. In practice, the consequence of this is that the adherents of the religion, unwilling to face the prospect of near-certain failure, will falsely claim to have reached the high spiritual level the religion prescribes. That is, they will go about aping the behaviour of saints. This "spiritual deception" (as the Orthodox Church would term it) seems always to have been a hazard in Christianity, but it may be an even worse one in a post-Christian society that is unconscious of the Christian sources of its basic beliefs. (If it is unaware of its Christian roots, how can it become aware that the version of Christianity it is working from is defective?) We in post-Christian society have rejected the serious study of ethics—which we could obtain from the discarded classical component of our cultural heritage, by turning towards Judaism, or perhaps from the non-scriptural traditions of the older churches—but are left with a few fragmentary Christian ideas such as "turning the other cheek" and the equality of souls. Attempting to apply these ideas in a political context, by imposing them on the average citizen, is likely to prove disastrous. "Turning the other cheek", for example, will turn into the institutionalization of cowardice. Weil's Christianity seems to be much more seriously held than than the ethics of most contemporary liberals, but it might turn out to have much the same effect if one tried to make it the basis of the political system.

One "esoteric" aspect of Christianity is its emphasis on inward thoughts and motives rather than merely on outward actions. If one attempts to apply the Christian standard of purity of motive to national history, one runs into difficulties. Most historical deeds, Weil would undoubtedly agree, are probably not performed out of pure motives; also, it is difficult to uncover other people's motives, especially those from the scantily documented past. There may be a tendency systematically either to overrate or (as more recently) to undervalue the motives of figures in the national history. It would seem necessary, in describing a patriotic national history, to concentrate on concrete actions, without worrying much about the motives behind them. But Weil would presumably not find this to be adequate for encouraging a true Christian patriotism.

It seems to be generally accepted that great historical accomplishments are usually brought about by people whose motives are probably, for the most part, rather sordid and short-sighted. Weil's understanding of Christianity apparently excludes such accomplishments from the category of the admirable. It is of no account, for example, that the Romans united the known world into a single peaceful and ultimately Christian society: they were motivated primarily by self-glorification, so their achievement is, spiritually speaking, merely a useless by-product of sinful worldliness. This is not, however, the only possible Christian interpretation of history. One can also regard a nation which accomplishes something great, even if out of obscure and probably not very laudable motives, as a chosen instrument of Providence. "By their fruits ye shall know them"—not by their motives as interpreted by long-distance psychoanalysis.

Is not the possession of such a Providential role a legitimate basis for national self-respect? If one's culture has achieved great things, this should suffice to oblige one to fight to preserve it, without demanding to examine the inward states of the architects of those achievements, to see if they pass muster with one's own refined moral sensitivity—a sensitivity which incidentally is very cheaply purchased when one only needs it for debunking heroes, not for individual self-examination. This is not the only basis for a legitimate patriotism, but it is one that seems to be missing from Weil's patriotic palette.