In Defence of Traditionalism

These are momentous times in which we live. Over the last thirty years, and indeed since the post-war period, an entire and multifaceted nexus of events, processes, influences, and factors have changed this country to a point beyond recognition. Thatcher, Blair, Attlee – these great names have had their influences, and mustn’t be underestimated, yet it is only when we combine these with the larger social forces and pressures – the economy, foreign policy, social inequality – that we can truly understand the scale of the transformations and its causes.

Arguably, the next decades will see a far greater pace of change. Demographic crises will force us to question fundamentally the organisation of our society and money. The impact of technology, that great and unstoppable lever of change, will increase exponentially, with AI, quantum computing, hydrogen power and nuclear fusion all within our grasp. On foreign policy, many predict and indeed already recognise the decline of the US and rise of China to the point where we may very well see a multi-polar world, something unthinkable since the end of the cold war. On disease, the Covid Pandemic and its associated panic have already shown us the way in which our inter-connected world can so easily but shut down. Indeed, the way in which fear can be mobilised by governments of previously free societies have shown the increasingly perilous situation in which we find ourselves.

In this time of rapid change, human beings are naturally fearful. Conditioned as we are by hundreds of thousands of years of evolution, we naturally cling to stability. Like fear of the dark or spiders, there is some fundamental common sense basis for this, even if in the
modern anthropological world the exact basis and make-up of these fears is to be called into question. It is the instinct of liberals to tell us to disregard these fears. They say that, in our evolutionary journey, we have crawled out of the dark cave of our development and into the sunlit uplands of progress, governed by the smile of reason, and the thinkers of the enlightenment. And yes, I concede, much of this is valuable – in overcoming our prejudices, in becoming better people, we must not be reactionaries, but adapt to change when we must.

This is the fundamental tenet of conservatism. Our politicians may not discuss it enough, indeed they may have lost any sense of a vocabulary in which to articulate it, but every government decision, every policy platform and law must be governed by the deep conservative instinct to protect what we love, while adapting those things which we see have gone to decay, in the beautiful music and moving words of the coronation service. This is the spirit of truly great minds – of Cicero, Burke, Scruton, Hitchens. This is not backwards looking, it is not evil, it is not bigoted, and it is not stupid, no matter what the sneering, Guardian-reading Remainer liberals of Islington may say. In this deep spirit of traditional conservatism, we see a deep ingrained wisdom.

In these times of change, it can be very easy to lose a sense of constancy. To see what really requires changing, and what we should preserve. The great mistakes of the conservative movement since the disastrous years of the 1960s, have not been in not fighting hard enough, but in not choosing the right battles. How else, despite spending so long out of government, could the left have developed such an iron grip on our institutions?

And so, the first step on the road to re-asserting traditional conservatism must be to regain our sense of home. Place, that concept so lost in our globalised world, is a thing to treasure. It is not a restraint, but a safety harness. It is not shackles, but the very way in which we can achieve true unity. In the words of the psalm, I shall react not against the chastening of the Lord.

How then, can we hope to recover this sense of place? The answer is far from simple, but it is an important question, and therefore it deserves thought. It is our duty, task and aid to examine those things which resist the frothing of the mob. As Horace said, odi profanum
vulgus et arceo, I hate the vulgar crowd and I avoid it. Do not mistake Horace. He is not arguing to bigotry, for isolationism. No man, indeed, in the words of the poet Donne, is an island, but is part of something greater. What Horace argues for is a sense of belonging governed by a true individualism. Not a shallow, economic individualism that purported ‘neo-liberals’ spurt today, but a true, liberating and enriching sense of freedom.

How can we achieve this? In ways, the idea of prescribing any solution may seem to
contradict the idea of individualism, of true individualism. And yet the point should not be
called individualism, but ‘equilibrilism’. A true and healthy balance between society and the individual.

Thus religion is extremely important. One of the great disasters of Western
civilization since the end of the Great War has been the decline of organised religion. Though understandable, given the way in which the Church was so associated with the killing fields of the Somme, it is nonetheless a tragedy. Religion is of course non-partisan, and there are many elements of it which, by our radical leftist bishops, are appropriated to liberalism. And yet, in the image, as Orwell put it, of the maid cycling through the mist to Evening prayer, we see the very heart and soul of the Church of England, and thus of this country. This is not to outlaw other religions. Far from it. Rather, it is merely to recognise that a truly healthy multi-polar society can only exist within the bounds of a greater culture.

Something else great which we must strive to preserve is classical music. In the
soaring notes of Beethoven, in the romanticism of Schubert, the precision of Bach, we see
something timeless, good culture, something which will span the centuries. Something beside which all popular music pales by comparison.

And so, I implore you, my friends, let us regain the mould of traditional conservatism,
restore those things decayed, and defend and improve the country we love.

Charlie Chadwick (The Treasurer-elect, St. Anne’s) is a third year undergraduate reading Literae Humaniores.

Image Credit: Dave Price on Geograph, under licence