Break sex and you break man.
If sex stopped working altogether, so that there were no more babies, the whole shooting match would be over. Man qua man depends upon successful sex. If we don’t get sex right, we are doomed.
It should hardly surprise us then to find that literally everything human depends upon the successful operation of sex – and so is thereby ordered, and thereto. Any aspect of human life that is not somehow directly or indirectly ordered to the support of that success (as, e.g., with the family, the polis, the thede, and all their appurtenances) is at the very least informed by sex (e.g., even ascetic celibacy is what it is only in virtue of, and in respect to, the inherent human orientation and ordination to sex: celibacy is of and about sex). The connection may sometimes be attenuated, but it is always there. Take – oh, take the art of fireplaces, say (I happen to be facing one as I write). Prima facie, fireplaces would seem to have nothing to do with sex. But fireplaces warm the house where the children are raised; they support the success of sex. So masonry and bricks are partly about successful sex.
Take away children, leaving only sex, and almost all the meaning and verve, all the significance and importance, would drain out of life; there would be no point to any of it, really, even for those who never have either sex or children. If the very engine of human life as such were rendered impotent, that life would wholly die, rotted in all its departments. Take away children, and you render sex unsuccessful per se. Prevent its natural consummation and you prevent sex ab initio, and with it all other human things. Frustrate the final success of sex in healthy children themselves grown to reproductive maturity, and you frustrate humanity as such.
Bearing all that in mind, consider now the staggering chutzpah of the social engineers who, in the last 125 years or so, have proposed to fix humanity by breaking sex, and who then went ahead and did it. They broke the operation by which the human species reproduces itself. Considered in the light of its full meaning, the hubris of this undertaking beggars the imagination. It makes Faust seem prudent.
Were they insane, evil, or both? What the hell were they thinking?
Look around, and ponder how many ruined bits of our formerly noble civilization have been depraved by the depravation of sex. Not just marriage, but movies, music, literature, education, you name it. Technology keeps getting better, true; but more and more of it is designed for and devoted to the service of depravation; to the bad economy.
Those of us alive since the 40’s and 50’s remember when the social order was still mostly intact. We can remember when sex worked. There had by then for decades already been much talk among the chattering classes about the need to ditch the old sexual mores. But not much progress had yet been made on that score among hoi polloi. There had been much discussion of what ought to be done, and provisions had been made for its doing, but not much had yet actually been done. Contraception and divorce, for example, had long since been allowed within the pale legally and – what is more important – ecclesially, but when I was a boy in 1965 it was still a rather sickening shock to meet another boy my age whose parents were divorced.
This all changed almost overnight with the Pill. With the Pill, we severed at one stroke the thick ontological connection between sex and its natural end in procreation. We’d been talking about breaking sex for decades, but with the Pill we actually broke it. We had been on a slippery slope for a long time by then – this being the only reason the Pill found a ready market, or was worth developing – but with the Pill, the slope increased dramatically.
It was a sea change, the world turned upside down. In 1965, divorce was horrific, shameful, unthinkable almost. By 1975, my parents had divorced. So had most of the parents of my friends.
With the Pill, the sexual reforms that the intellectuals (they are not called philosophers anymore, or even sophists) had long championed could at last be implemented far and wide, and at low upfront cost. So we reaped the whirlwind, and all around us now, things fall apart.
Yet there are two causes for hope. The first is that, mirabile dictu, those who rejected reproduction are not reproducing themselves, while those who did not are burgeoning. The future belongs to the traditional religious orthodox.
The second is that our bodies are inherently conservative. No one feels quite as good about an epicene man or a mannish woman as they do about a masculine man or a feminine woman. People like babies and kids. No matter what they say, everyone recognizes that perversion is perverse – even the perverse, who delight in its perversity. And this is not difficult to discern: almost everyone still feels normally heterosexual, and likes it that way, and finds the alternatives disgusting as a proposal for the disposition of their own lives. Our bodies as originally given want what tradition hands down to us as right and natural to our condition.
Things could still get a lot worse. Indeed, I expect that they will, since they can, and seem inertially bound that way. But because the success of sex is the forecondition of man, so that man is wired to seek that success, so then will he seek it, and want to seek it, in all that he does. Perversion then, as self-annihilating*, is bound first to destroy its own acolytes, and then to leave in their wake a robust, calcined and hardy remnant of men who would be men, and women who would be women: human beings who want to be human.
So we may reasonably hope that sex may be here and there fixed, and again prosper man and his handiwork. We may hope that little cells and organelles of sanity will survive the general collapse, and will then propagate. But this is to say that there is no need for orthosphereans to despair, and great reason for us to set forth on the noble project of raising a traditional, orthodox family with lots of kids. Nothing else is worth doing if there aren’t some kids around.