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The Unquiet Death of Peter Fechter

Richard Barnes

Most of us are not given to much self-analysis, but if I were to be asked what marked or set the long-lasting or permanent influences or directions for my life, I’d likely join millions in crediting my detestation of godless totalitarian regimes and philosophies. Of course, each of those millions came to his or her position via different paths.

In my case, my father’s unwavering condemnation of Communism — whether of the European, Asian, Latin American, or the American intellectual varieties made no difference to him — undoubtedly set my gut-level course far earlier than that of my heart and mind, which explained to me the religious basis for such a system and the importance of the historic Faith in defending and strengthening the liberties we have enjoyed.

For instance, as an elementary school pupil in El Pao, I instinctively questioned why the Weekly Reader, so popular in schools across the country, would seemingly tip toe around America’s role in the Cold War, such as its purporting to explain that MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction) actually made sense. It didn’t to us, but what did we know? We just wanted to win the Cold War over the Communists. We had to wait several more decades for that victory to be accomplished, albeit not in American faculties.

And then there was the Berlin Wall erected in 1961. After President John F. Kennedy’s inaction and failure to provide the agreed-upon backup in the Bay of Pigs operation, surely he’d act to stop this inhumane attempt to physically divide peoples in Europe, no?

Not even a peep from his administration.

Then, on August 17, 1962, close to the first anniversary of the wall, the utter cruelty, pitilessness, and godlessness of Communist philosophy and politics were laid bare yet again for the world to see and ponder.

In the early afternoon, two teenagers attempting to flee Communist oppression in East Berlin, ran towards the wall not far from Checkpoint Charlie. One clambered to the top as gun fire rained on them, yet stopped to look back for his friend who seemed stuck, unable to move. “Run! Come here!” he screamed, but his companion fell back to the “death strip” on the East Berlin side. Seeing this, the first boy jumped to the West, landing safely.

The border troop files later revealed that the two fugitives were shot at without warning. Four border guards fired at least 35 shots. Peter Fechter was hit as he jumped up onto the wall and fell backwards, leaning against the wall for support. Instead of arresting the defenseless young man, the guards took up new positions and continued firing until he collapsed to the ground.

Gravely wounded, he calmly, but loudly, pled for help, as East Berlin soldiers kept their rifles aimed at him, but did nothing to assist him. On the West Berlin side, American GI’s also remained impassive, doing nothing, one actually saying, “It’s not our problem.”

The wall cut right through the heart of what had once been a vibrant Berlin neighborhood, separating friends and family, in some cases for decades to come. One thing atheistic philosophies are known for is their contempt for anything outside the state. That would include church and volunteer associations; but most importantly, the family. Anything that weakens or divides the home is pursued with gusto, including incentives for family members to report on one another to the state.

So physically dividing a neighborhood is small potatoes for such regimes.

As Peter Fechter twisted in agony and called for help, men, women, and children on either side of the wall watched in horror from their apartments. There is one photograph of an elderly lady, covering her mouth with her hand as she beheld in dismay, unable to help.

His screams eventually ceased after 50 long minutes. Finally East German border troops carried him away and later pronounced him dead.

Pictures had been taken by western photographers and shown around the world, turning his death into a symbol of Communist inhumanity, thereby presenting a ticklish situation to all right thinkers and spineless or bought politicians.

The regime’s chief propagandist’s words should send chills down the spines of anyone alive the past three years of mandated lockdowns and faux medical mandates: “[This event] was good for and in the interest of the state…. The life of each one of our brave young men in uniform is more important to us than the life of a lawbreaker. By staying away from our state border — blood, tears, and screams can be avoided.”

Yes, to avoid unpleasantries, simply bow down and submit.

For decades thereafter, the young man’s family was subjected to state-sponsored harassment, which ended only after the defeat of East European Communism. His sister, Ruth, expressed herself through her attorneys to no longer “be damned by passivity and inactivity.” She told how the family had felt powerless to act against the public denunciations instigated by the state.

One of the more dastardly characters of the “Cold War”, Willy Brandt, was then mayor of Berlin. He called for “calm and prudence”. Even as a child, I felt negatively toward that man. And that sense only intensified as I matured and saw that he always took the Soviet line, no matter what the provocation. 

Brandt resigned in 1974 when it was discovered that his close aide was an agent of the Stasi. When the wall fell, no one in authority called for the prosecution of the brutal and pitiless Erick Honecker, dictator of East Germany. Could it be they took seriously his threat to reveal “interesting interlocks” with the former West Germany’s political class, including Brandt, should he be prosecuted (cf Judgment In Moscow, Vladimir Bukovsky)?

But we did not act honorably either. American City Commandant, Albert Watson, ordered all our men to “stay on our side!” He then called John F. Kennedy’s White House to ask for direction. Kennedy was in California at the moment and was called, “Mr. President, an escapee is bleeding to death at the Berlin Wall.” But no answer was forthcoming. Hours later, Watson called again to say, “The matter has resolved itself.”

For the first time since the war, the call “Ami, go home!” was heard. A sign with the words, “Protecting forces? Murder condoners = accessories to murder” was seen at demonstrations. Cars drove back and forth outside the US Mission gates, honking in protest. When a US patrol was harassed by a passerby, the military dispersed the crowd using M14 rifles with mounted bayonets.

US politicians and media were also unsympathetic, calling the protesting Berliners a “mob”. The US State Department refused to rule out military force against the protests in West Berlin, without a peep of dissent by her mayor, Willie Brandt.

Western European newspapers tended to be more realistic, with one article declaring, “In Communist systems, it’s a good thing to shoot citizens who harbor the wish of escaping from the system.”

As with the Bay of Pigs matter in April, 1961, then the initiation of the Berlin Wall construction in August, 1961, Kennedy, also did nothing in the face of the cold blooded murder of Peter Fechter in August of 1962. Such timidity led to the “Cuban Missile Crisis a mere two months later, in October, 1962.

Peter Fechter was not an “activist”. He was a bricklayer who was close to his family and was used to visiting his sister and her loved ones in West Berlin. When the wall went up and the totalitarian character of Communist East Berlin no longer had the escape valve to the West, he and his friend decided to escape. They simply said in their hearts, “Give me liberty or give me death.”

This post concludes with the words of Peter Fechter’s sister: 

“My parents were broken by [his murder]. My father died young, in 1968, at the age of just 63. He couldn’t get over the death of his son. My mother went to the cemetery every day after the funeral. That was her home. At first, she was always observed by Stasi people during her visits. By the next day, freshly planted flowers had been ripped out or were gone. My mother couldn’t get her head around the fall of the wall. She always said, ‘We just drive to the West and no one shoots, but they killed Peter for it.’ My mother died at the age of 76 in 1991.”

Peter Fechter (1944-1962)

Peter Fechter pleaded for help for 50 minutes. In great pain he finally bled to death in agony before the Communists “rescued” his cadaver.

August 18, 1962. This photo of President John F. Kennedy at a California beach was published in newspapers around the world as West Berliners protested US inaction as Peter Flechter, in great pain, pleaded for help.

Apprehensive East German soldier helps a young boy who had been separated from his family pass through, in 1961. The soldier was seen by his superior and dismissed. Germans affirm that he was shot, although nothing was officially heard from or about him since that day. The wall (obstructions) went up overnight with strict orders to not let anyone pass.

Miami Visit

Richard Barnes

I came to Miami for Cousin Louis’s memorial service to be held Saturday, February 11, at Shake-a-Leg in Coconut Grove. Louis volunteered at Shake-a-Leg, a charitable organization which uses the marine and waters sports environment to encourage and help folks with disabilities.

It had been a while since my last visit to the area so it is good to have a bit of time in which to touch base with friends I’d not seen in close to two decades and also with family.

My grandfather, Max A. Barnes, left Cuba in the late 40s after retiring from Bethlehem Steel. Once, way too late in life, I asked Aunt Sarah what made Grandfather Max leave Cuba when Castro was still over a decade away and come to Miami. She replied, “He saw what was coming. And Miami was tropical, like Cuba.”

Readers of this blog can fully understand my aunt’s reply addressing my grandfather’s concerns, but I did not, until much later when I began looking into Latin America’s revolutionary history, including Fidel Castro’s activities in the very 40s and thereafter. Obviously, Grandfather Max was paying attention. 

And that began a connection with Miami and South Florida that has endured through several generations.

Wednesday, the 8th, my old classmate, Dr. Niberto Moreno, treated me to lunch at the Riviera Country Club in Coral Gables. He called a classmate, Ken Barr, I’d not spoken with in over 50 years. It is very special to renew old  acquaintances. Unfortunately, I forgot to take a photo. Niberto and I still remember the first time we met as young boys in Miami Christian School, “¿Eres de Venezuela?” he asked me, stopping on the walkway and turning to me as I walked behind him to another class. I caught up with him and we talked and became friends ever since. Talking over lunch was as if we’d never parted.

Ken Barr had a great sense of humor. When I told him that over the phone, he inadvertently proved the point when he remarked, “That’s probably all I was good at: not studying but making people laugh!” No. He was a good student with great wit, which not too many possess. I have been blessed with good friends.

Thursday another friend, César López, from the Upjohn Puerto Rico days picked me up to have breakfast at CocoWalk, an open mall with good eateries. César has had tough battles with The Big C (cancer) but his optimism and sense of humor and faith have held him in good stead. It is a marvel to see him so well, although we both know one is never out of the woods in this situation; so he does his best to care for himself.

I don’t think he’ll mind my sharing one story I had forgotten about. He had brought his then six-month-old daughter, Penelope, to visit his mother in San Sebastian, Puerto Rico. It was a joyous reunion. The following morning he sat at the kitchen table talking with his mother as she cooked breakfast. Suddenly, she fell back into César’s arms and died of a brain hemorrhage. There are some things that remain indelibly stamped onto one’s  psyche. It was good to have reconnected with César. And I remembered to take a photo.

Later, I met my cousins Janis, Pete, and Vivian, at Shake-a-Leg in Coconut Grove. We drove around in circles looking for a diner that likely no longer exists. We must have seemed highly suspicious characters to a news crew that saw us drive by at least four times. Finally opted for a Cuban restaurant nearby where Vivian kindly treated us all. What a quiet, wonderful time of fellowship and gratitude! We all recognized that what we had growing up was unique.

Being relatively close to Woodlawn Memorial Cemetery (now Caballero Rivero Woodlawn North Park Cemetery and Mausoleum), I visited my paternal grandparents’s gravesite. Woodlawn is one of the oldest cemeteries in Miami. Much history lies there. For example, the park holds the tomb of Desiderio Arnaz II, Desi Arnaz’s father, who was the youngest mayor of Santiago, Cuba, was exiled in 1933, and died in Miami in 1973. Also, Alfonso, Prince of Asturias, a hemophiliac, died in Miami in 1938 as a result of internal bleeding after a car accident and was buried in Woodlawn but was re-entombed in Spain in 1985. And many more such.

Peafowl (peacocks and peahen) appeared in Coconut Grove in the early 20th Century. They are native to India. Residents have a love-hate relationship with them: beautiful, loud, leave lots of scratches and guano on cars. Ironically, the Peacock family were among the earliest settlers in the area in the 1870s. They opened a hotel in what is now the site of Peacock Park. This was many years before peafowl began to appear.

Finally, Coconut Grove has many old trees, including the Kapok Tree (Ceiba Pentandra) in a quiet corner dwarfing everything around it.

This area is very much a part of my childhood and I am grateful.

César López and I have breakfast

Cousins Janis and Pete Colón, Vivian Edwards, and I enjoy good conversation over lunch

Desi Arnaz’s parents: Desiderio Arnaz II (1894-1973) and Dolores Acha Socias (1896-1988)

Alfonso, Prince of Asturias (1907-1938)

From left: Max A. Barnes (1874-1950), Eustaquia R. Barnes (1893-1951), Alfred L. Barnes (1927-1968), and Sarah L. Rodriguez (1924-2015)

With a peacock friend

Kapok tree in a Coconut Grove neighborhood

Castro In Venezuela In 1989

Richard Barnes

In my research on the Cuba-Venezuela Nexus I read about a remarkable photograph taken when Fidel Castro arrived at the Teresa Carreño theater to participate in the festivities celebrating the inauguration of the second (non consecutive) term of Carlos Andrés Pérez (CAP), on February 2, 1989.

CAP thought highly of Fidel Castro, actually meeting with him secretly multiple times during his first tenure (1974-1979) which was, not coincidentally, the age of massive expropriations in Venezuela. CAP invited the bitter dictator to the inauguration for his second term (1989-1993). 

Bitter because he had an almost lifelong compulsive lust to use Venezuela’s riches to fund his Napoleonic dream of ruling over all of Latin America. A Spanish empire redivivus of sorts, only with lots more executions. He never lost that dream and when President Rómulo Betancourt spurned him he became inflamed with anger and took reckless actions to topple the elected president.

Fast forward to February 2, 1989, when the photo below was taken.

We cannot read another person’s mind. But in looking at this photo, you can! You can, because we now know what was going on in his mind at that moment.

CAP had naively given Castro carte blanche to enter the country with hundreds of “advisors”, by-passing immigration. This was unprecedented … and ominous. CAP also gave the Cubans full use of the Eurobuilding Hotel, then in final phases of construction, in Caracas. During Castro’s visit no Venezuelan was allowed in the sprawling premises, only Cubans, including food and cleaning services.

It was during that infiltration that Nicolás Maduro returned to Venezuela camouflaged as a Cuban adviser. And, just as ominously, scores of fully equipped sharpshooters entered also. Upon departure, Venezuelan emigration officials reported to CAP that the number of Cubans and equipage departing was significantly less than what had entered. 

The president waved aside their concerns. Later, after the 9-day Caracazo (February 27 – March 8, 1989) which by some estimates killed over 1,000 Venezuelans, the usual suspects reported this rioting as “spontaneous” reactions to CAP’s economic policies. There was nothing “spontaneous” about it. The playbook was a reboot of the April 9, 1948 Bogotazo whose aftermath is what Castro wanted for Venezuela. He eventually got what he wanted.

What was the context of the much ballyhooed discontent supposedly suffocating Venezuelans in the 70s and 80s which led to a massive popular uprising which brought a Communist, Hugo Chávez, to power, never to be relinquished?

Between 1973 and 1982, when conspiracies, mostly within Venezuela’s left-wing military leadership, had sworn to do away with “democracy”, Venezuela “was a country whose economy had grown 50% in a decade … and found herself among the 20 top economies in the planet and in the top 10 with the best quality of life. Unemployment was 3.2% and poverty had fallen from 14.4% in 1976 to 9.5% in 1979 … the index of absolute privation was .53%, the lowest percentage of the entire American continent along with Canada and 90% of Europe.” (Source: Thays Peñalver)

Democracy in Venezuela was not ended because of poverty or privation which has been argued or asserted since the late 1980s. She eschewed her democratic institutions according to the designs of leftwing ideologues mostly ensconced in the Venezuela military.

Nor was Venezuela hopelessly in hock to American companies and interests. CAP was ardently anti-US and his policies left no room for doubt. His administration nationalized the oil and iron ore industries, and greatly regulated the American companies operating in the country. Unprecedented actions, all, which, produced an initial period of economic euforia, like a drug rush. But then the piper had to be paid and that was the situation in 1989, when CAP threw a vast party for his second inauguration, with Castro as a guest of honor.

It is difficult for most of us to appreciate the chaos and havoc faced by the citizens of Caracas during those nine days in late February and early March of 1989. 

In addition to his own plane, Castro had arrived accompanied by two Soviet transport planes, later known to have been packed with munitions, weaponry of war, and other arms and grenades with “great powers of destruction”. All this was waved in with not so much as a by-your-leave. And when he departed, only a fraction of the equipage returned with him.

The Venezuelan authorities, not briefed about the unaccounted personnel and equipage brought by Castro. assumed that the disturbances which began in late February were merely local unrest. As police and national guard personnel approached the areas of riots, they fell under unremitting, unrelenting fire. By some estimates as much as 200 sharpshooters ensconced in the roofs of the city’s buildings fired and killed at will — both unarmed civilians as well as police and national guard. Areas of Caracas were virtual war zones as attested by European journalists such as José Comas, who had reported on the wars in Kosovo and Serbia. He described his coverage as, “The Caracas war front”. 

To this day we still lack an authoritative accounting of the death and bloodletting of those nine days. The attacks were so severe and the crossfire so violent that the original intent — the overthrow of CAP, Castro’s good friend –was abandoned and the backup plan was implemented. Now the Caracazo was affirmed to have been the result of heavy handed suppression ordered by CAP himself and executed by the Venezuelan authorities.

Fidel Castro called CAP to express his support and solidarity and to denounce the scum who wished to overthrow him. American newspapers dutifully reported the crocodile tear expressions of the bitter butcher.

A mere three years later, CAP was impeached and removed from office. A few years after that, Hugo Chávez, who had been involved in three coup attempts was elected president and, though dead, his administration continues to this day, under Castro’s hand-picked successor to Chávez, Nicolás Maduro.

One important note: during last coup attempt in 1993, President Pérez, swearing he would not commit suicide like Allende, acted with great courage and audacity, fully armed and fighting his way out of La Casona to Miraflores where he was shortly surrounded once again, forcing him to fight his way out a second time that night. CAP was too much of an ideologue in his enmity of all things US and, worse, he was naive and foolish in his embrace of a rattlesnake like Castro. But when the chips were down, he acted valiantly. We are not cardboard creatures.

Fidel Castro arrives at the Teresa Carreño Theater to celebrate Carlos Andres Perez’s second inauguration on February 2, 1989. He had arrived in Venezuela accompanied by two Soviet Transport planes with war materiel which was allowed into Venezuela without being searched. Most stayed in Venezuela after Castro’s departure and was deployed in the Caracazo of February 27 – March 8, 1989. Surely all this was on his thoughts as he saw the realization of his decades-long dream close at hand.

Scolopendra Gigantea (Giant Centipede)

Richard Barnes

My last visit to Venezuela was in 2005 during which my cousins took me to visit the massive Las Macaguas Dam in Ciudad Guayana. As we walked the site, we eventually entered, in the “innards” of the structure, a small museum dedicated to the creatures encountered during the years of study and construction of Las Macaguas and also the even greater Guri Dam, the second or third largest in the world — sadly saddled with colossal incompetence resulting in far reaching failures for the entire country.

Corporate media reports, including Wikipedia, blame droughts for these life-threatening failures. However, to put it as diplomatically as possible, droughts did not suddenly show up with Chavez and Maduro. For further reading on the deterioration of Venezuelas electrical grid, refer to my posts on the Cuba-Venezuela nexus, such as here.

As we walked the museum we were awed by the variety and gigantic sizes of the insects on display. Childhood memories flooded back as I recalled seeing many of those or similar specimens live-and-in-color as we tramped about El Pao or fished in the Caroní or Orinoco rivers.

A recent email exchange with George and Richard Scheipe, the sons of a gentleman who taught school in El Pao in the 1950s, brought those memories back. George tells of John Tuohy, one of the “older kids” in El Pao, who had come to visit his brother, Ted Heron, Jr., in Pennsylvania, and had brought a dead giant centipede in his suitcase. The mischievous ones hid the critter in aluminum foil in the backyard and “would torment the local kids, including me, with it.” 

These centipedes are the Scolopendra gigantea and are found almost exclusively in South America (but also southern Mexico) with many in Venezuela. They are venomous and their bite can be fatal to small children. In 2014 a 4-year-old in Venezuela died from a bite he incurred when he picked up an empty soda can into which a Scolopendra had hid. In 2015 a 19-year-old man was hospitalized in San Tomé and when he worsened he was taken to a major city for better care. He recovered.

These centipedes can grow as large as 12 inches and are very quick. They are carnivores who feed on any other animal it can overpower and kill, including other arthropods, insects, small birds, lizards, frogs, and snakes. Students have investigated their feeding on bats, something which was not known until relatively recently.

They “climb cave dwellings and hold or manipulate their heavier prey with only a few legs attached to the ceiling.” A study done in southern Mexico discovered that, contrary to earlier belief, bats were killed by these giants pursuant to clever hunting tactics.

It had been believed that the centipedes killed the bats in reaction to being disturbed by the latter when flying in or out of their caves. Careful observation disclosed that the hunters attach themselves to the high walls or ceilings waiting for their prey to fly close, upon which the Scolopendra pounce. “We have observed that, during the trajectory taken by the bats, some perch momentarily. It is during such brief stops that the giant centipede attacks and kills [he who hesitates is lost!].” Also, it is probable that as a bat flies very close to the walls it is also attacked and killed.

I appreciate the recollections of folks who lived in or who have some connection with mid-20th-Century El Pao. Truly we were blessed and had memorable — sometimes frightening — encounters with a unique flora and fauna which so fascinated great explorers such as Alexander Humboldt and others.

Don’t try this at home

Nor this

Represa Las Macagua in Ciudad Guayana, Venezuela

El Pao As Microcosm of American Culture

Richard Barnes

That title promises more than I can deliver in a short post; however, I hope to at least be able to address what my memory retains regarding the evolving culture of my childhood years in a jungle mining camp and how it very much reflected the general culture in the United States. The purpose is not to reminisce but to seek to identify our root cultural problem and how to address it.

With regards to “class struggle” so prominent in modern society, please see my post, Class Struggle, as I will not be repeating those comments here, although for a better overall understanding, that post should be considered in tandem with this one.

Cornelius Van Til’s aphorism is true, in my opinion: “Culture is religion externalized.” So, for example, historically, the culture of Europe is drastically different, even contradictory, to that of pre-William Carey India or pre-WWII Japan. The difference relates or related directly to the vastly different dominant religions of each: Christianity versus Hinduism or Buddhism or Shintoism. Even cultures which arose under a predominantly Protestant Christianity differ markedly from those arising under a predominantly Roman Catholic Christianity. Witness northern versus southern Europe, or North versus South America.

Nevertheless, every major Christian confession, regardless of denomination, makes claims to objective truth; such is not the case with other major religions such as Hinduism or Buddhism, other than categorical statements affirming, at best, dubious claims, such as “all religions are the same”. They most certainly are not, as even my Hindu friends will admit upon reflection.

El Pao’s culture in the 1950s was undeniably Christian, although its population was marked by Roman Catholics, Protestants, non or infrequent church-goers. We also had one or two atheists. Outside of El Pao, I remember genuinely friendly relations with Jewish people in Caracas. Our general Christianity did not generate Anti-Semitism, but rather a tolerance increasingly rare today.

All, even those who denied Christianity, lived according to Christian societal norms.

If I were offered Hobson’s Choice of either living in Mexico City today or living there before Cortes’ arrival in 1519, I would not hesitate to choose to live there today, since I do not particularly care for Aztec human sacrifice, whether my own or anyone else’s. I believe the reader would also choose likewise. We do incline towards self-preservation, after all.

And what makes the difference between Mexico today and Mexico before Cortes? In a word: Christianity.

Unlike the era of the Great Reformation in the 16th and 17th centuries, the crisis in religion today is not denominational or doctrinal (although I do not minimize such serious matters).

The crisis in religion today, as Harold O. J. Brown put it, is in the “radical sensate approach to truth”. That crisis goes well beyond the walls of any church or denomination and into all of society, culture, and civilization.

In El Pao, although we had our doctrinal differences which were cause of strong, even bitter, disagreements, we all generally agreed that we were to live according to the Ten Commandments; that there was such a thing as objective truth; that we were created by the Triune God to Whom we were accountable; that Jesus Christ is God in the flesh; that Christmas celebrated the Incarnation; that the world was never the same thereafter; that society would not survive a denial of these eternal verities….

We recognized our fallen nature, which would be evidenced in sin and unfaithfulness. But overall we sought adherence, however imperfectly, to God’s Law, although sometimes with grumbling.

This began to change openly (at least to my friends and me) in the late 50s and early to mid 60s. I remember in 1966 an American teacher who received his monthly issue of Playboy magazine; I also recall a friend who showed me where his father hid his own monthly issues.

The aforementioned teacher was also very insistent in cramming Darwin’s evolutionary theories down our throats. 

The relationship between the playboy outlook, with its myriad and increasingly degenerate manifestations, and Darwinism is not coincidental: the latter prepares the soil which enables the former to flourish. Of course, pornographic literature preceded Playboy by centuries; however, there is a major difference between the culture in England and the English colonies in 1750 and that of England and the United States in the latter 20th Century: in broad strokes, the former still believed in objective truth and understood that such literature was offensive to God and destructive to society; the latter does not believe in objective truth nor God nor the necessity of morality to the proper functioning of society.

For instance, in the 18th and even 19th centuries, folks had to exert themselves — sometimes traveling across state or even national boundaries — to get hold of bawdy material. By the latter 20th, such material was not only readily available, it was thrust into children’s faces at the grocery checkout, because the conviction that unfettered depictions of such degenerate behavior was contrary to the moral law of God had largely disappeared.

It was no coincidence that, preceding or concurrent with such changing norms, we also witnessed an increasing intolerance of the Christian religion. That is not accidental. The writings of Marx and Engels and Nietzsche, the godfathers of Communism, Nazism, and Fascism — all anti-Christian to the core — are frightening in their depictions glorifying man without God. To wit:

“The New Testament is the gospel of a wholly ignoble species of man … These little herd-animal virtues do not by any means lead to ‘eternal life'” — Nietzshe

“We … reject every attempt to impose on us any moral dogma whatever as eternal, ultimate, and forever immutable moral law …” — Engels

“We say: morality is what serves to destroy the old exploiting society … which is creating a new communist society … We do not believe in an eternal morality.” — Lenin

“The proletariat can only in a revolution succeed in ridding itself of all the muck of ages …” — Marx

“The state can be nothing but the revolutionary dictatorship of the proletariat.” — Marx

“A revolution is the most authoritarian thing there is; it is the act whereby one part of the population imposes its will upon another … [and] must maintain this rule by means of the terror which its arms inspire in the reactionaries.” — Engels

Why are we surprised at Stalin’s gulags, Pol Pot’s killing fields, Mao’s forced famines against tens of millions, Castro’s murders, and Hitler’s gas chambers? They were merely faithful followers of their founding, anti-Biblical prophets and literature. They did not “pervert” Communism or Fascism or Nazism or Nihilism: they successfully imposed such on millions. And their descendants, mostly in western corporate and university boards and faculties, are busy imposing the same.

How can they succeed? 

By the foolish submission of millions to a “radical sensate approach to truth”. 

What does this mean in practice? 

Brown and Sorokin are helpful here. They trace three phases in culture: the Ideational, the Idealistic, and the Sensate. The first sees spiritual truth and values as virtually the only truth, with God and the Scriptures “as the highest and truest realities”.  The second is a compromise between the ideational and sensate, but inclines more to the ideational in that it places a higher value on eternal verities while not ignoring physical realities. The third is interested only in the material things and is accompanied by a rapid degeneration in culture “not only in the technical sense that they no longer form part of a well-functioning integrated whole, but also in the sense that they are morally blameworthy and merit condemnation.”

History has no record of a system of liberty, tolerance, and harmony having been created from a sensate approach to truth. Conversely, the historical record is littered with the remnants of peoples and institutions who perished because of their founding upon or descent into such an approach to truth.

As a first or second grader in El Pao, I vividly recall my teacher talking about her belief that there are levels or grades in hell. She said that Hitler would certainly receive greater punishment than a common thief who did not repent. Such musing by a teacher today is inconceivable. 

As a seventh grader in El Pao, my “Playboy-reading” teacher barely hid his unbelief, but nevertheless respected the Christian norms of the culture in which he thrived. For example, in a discussion about the Beatles, he said something along these lines, “I won’t deny that many of my colleagues play Beatles music in parties. But is such music as long lasting as, say Bach or Beethoven? We can have fun, but we need to be careful to continually learn that which is permanent.”

In his sensate approach to truth, he still retained the old “ideational” or “idealistic” bearings which built the civilization which produced him. However, he failed to see that a society will eventually choose one above the other. And our culture has chosen the sensate.

And now, if we care about our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, we must face the need to return to the Truth. Most of us would readily condemn a Stalin or Hitler; however, have we paused to consider how their approach to truth has become the prevalent approach in our own corporate, educational, cultural, and even religious institutions? Do we really believe that our own homes are immune to such?

How do we push back? By unflinchingly proclaiming the truth — objective, truth — whenever we are given an opportunity to do so. We must not retreat from affirming that some things are good and others are evil and that such is defined by God, not man. And we must recognize that there is nothing new under the sun. After all, it was in the Garden of Eden when man first attempted to define the truth without God: “Ye shall be as gods, knowing [defining] good and evil”.

Teach your children to not mock their grandparents and great-grandparents’ simple faith. The generations whose faith was implicit and simple have done far more to preserve and expand our liberties and peace than generations of multi-degreed faculties and administrations in all Ivy League colleges.

For those who wish to read and understand these themes at a deeper level, I recommend The Sensate Culture, by Harold O. J. Brown, and also The Crisis of Our Age, by Pitirim A. Sorokin. 

Harold O. J. Brown (1933 – 2007)

Pitirim Sorokin (1889 – 1968)