The Wasteland

Eliot: "Man can only take so much truth."

We are, collectively, passing through a desert of meaninglessness.

We have been since the early 20th century; but it has recently been getting worse.

There used to be prominent voices, at least, who spoke truth: T.S. Eliot, Winston Churchill; in my youth, Buckminster Fuller, Margaret Thatcher, Milton Friedman, Daniel Patrick Moynihan.

The hallmark of truth is its simplicity. Once said, it seems obvious. It is lies that are complicated, ambiguous, “ironic,” “nuanced.” Liars need the cover of deniability.

So, it is true, do some truth tellers at some times; Jesus himself spoke in parables. This is so of artists generally. But when truth is covert in this way, it can be easily missed or misunderstood.

The Vatican, especially under John Paul II and Cardinal Ratzinger, then Benedict XVI, was the great redoubt of plain truth; perhaps the last redoubt. But under Pope Francis, it too has gone all ambiguity and nuance, barely distinguishable from the rest of the culture.

This leaves a terrible lack of meaning emerging from any commanding voices in high places.

And even the artists seem to have fallen silent.

Under this regime of political correctness, speaking truth seems only dangerously naive.