Point of no return

I’ve written a lot about the idea of the Third Dark Age, my belief that we are stumbling into a time of technological and social stagnation or even regression to rival those of the sixth century AD and the 12th century BC. A time when the flames of the Enlightenment go out, sending our Western world into the dark depths of tyranny, dogma, and destruction.

The last flicker of flame may have died on Wednesday.

I don’t hold up Charlie Kirk as any sort of intellectual powerhouse. I never listened to anything more than brief clips of his debates, and only really paid attention to him when screenshots of his Twitter posts appeared where I could see them. But I do know that he was a moderate. Indeed, a centrist, which is already a rare breed in this polarized times. Most of all, he truly believed in one of the core values of "classical" liberalism and the Enlightenment: that the free marketplace of ideas is where progress happens.

He attempted to face the anti-human forces in our modern world using a tried and true weapon, the same weapon wielded by Milton, Jefferson, and so many other luminaries. Through his work, he aimed to use rationality to debunk the claims of the irrational. He stated unequivocal truths—that a man cannot become a woman, for example—as his opinions, then offered to let anyone change his mind. For being moderate, he was branded an extremist. For showing tolerance, he was deemed a bigot.

For wanting to talk, he was killed.

That is what rattled me. Not out of any love for the man himself; I would claim indifference on Charlie Kirk as a person, not disinterest. But his legacy is as a man who tried to walk the same path I walk. That makes me acutely aware of the danger of the world for those of us who carry the light of wisdom in our hearts.

The danger, however, truly does come from both sides. Progressives have now demonstrated beyond any doubt that they will gleefully kill those who disagree with them. And I do mean gleefully: hundreds of thousands of messages on Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, Bluesky, Mastodon, and other hotbeds of anti-human thought illustrate this perfectly.

Yet conservatives are showing that they’re willing to destroy the foundations of modern civilization itself in retaliation. Prominent right-wing speakers on Twitter, for instance, are calling the alleged shooter and his ilk "literally demon-possessed". Which is, of course, nonsensical on its face. Demons don’t exist. It doesn’t take a Descartes or Kant to understand that someone can’t be literally possessed by something which doesn’t exist.

People who deny basic truths aren’t afflicted by a supernatural being—well, some of them are afflicted by their belief in one, but bear with me—they are victims of society, of a civilization that fails to protect its own. Morality is not only a virtue, but a necessary part of any functioning state. To prevent an inevitable decay into anarchy or tyranny, we must have a shared set of values.

In the United States, the foundation for that is supposed to be the works of our Founding Fathers: the Declaration of Independence and Constitution, the Federalist papers, and so on. Yet children are now taught to hate them, to vilify them for not being sufficiently left-leaning for certain modern types. When that link to the past, to who we are, is lost, we as a people are left adrift.

Charlie Kirk wanted to do what the Founding Fathers did. He wanted to live in a country where matters of import were solved through debate, voting, through the processes that great men created to break free from the vicious cycle of tyrannical kings. For that, progressives believe he deserved to die.

If so, then any right-thinking American deserves the same fate. Anyone who would dare to champion the ideals of liberty and justice for all, of the free marketplace of ideas, of a free press and the protection from Establishment, we all deserve death, do we not? For our crimes of standing strong in the face of darkness, for defending what we believe in, we would all be made martyrs to Lady Liberty herself.

So be it.

Those who would seek to destroy my country, I name them my enemy. Those who would grant me no quarter shall receive none in turn. Those who wish to bring about the Third Dark Age, know that I carry the light, and I will not relinquish it until my dying breath.

To be a libertarian is not, as many would claim, to be against government in all its forms. No, it is to understand that liberty itself is a value worth fighting for, that freedom is the first and most basic prerequisite to progress. Our country, if it is to regain the mantle of greatest, must have a populace who is free and secure, able to work towards the goal of betterment of all without fear of retribution. This I believe with all my heart.

To be an agnostic is to understand that, while there are things we do not yet know, there is nothing in this world that we cannot know. Knowledge is the light that casts aside the darkness. Rationality is our best protection in what Carl Sagan so eloquently named "our demon-haunted world". Yet all those demons are nothing more than men in costume. This I believe with all my heart.

To be an American is not merely to inhabit the territory of the United States. It is to carry on the legacy of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, Patrick Henry, and so many other great men. It is to cast aside the notion of kings and accept the idea that we are all responsible for our country. Its survival, its prosperity, its very existence is owed to every American. Kennedy’s famous proclamation, "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country," did not refer to civil service or sacrificing rights to the state. It meant bearing the weight of history, which far too many see as a burden, to carry America to ever greater heights. This I believe with all my heart.

I know I am all but alone in these beliefs. Many will share one or two, but few share all three. I’m okay with that. For four decades, I have walked the lonely path. I expect I’ll keep walking it for however many years I have left.

But at least that path will have light.

Summer Reading List 2025: Third

Under the wire once again. Today’s the last day, and I finished the last book last night. At last. I have reasons for my tardiness, and I hope to explain them in the near future. For now, let’s worry about reading.

Fantasy

Title: A Crucible of Souls
Author: Mitchell Hogan
Genre: Fantasy
Year: 2013

I think I’m starting to experience fantasy burnout. I was very critical of Brandon Sanderson’s latest book a few months back, and he’s my favorite author. Mitchell Hogan might be a great writer, but this book ensures he’ll never get high up on my list.

A Crucible of Souls is a fantasy novel. Usually, I’ll be able to qualify "fantasy" with some other subgenre. Martin and Jordan wrote epic fantasy. Sanderson sometimes veers into science fantasy, if of a different bent than Star Wars. Brian McClellan? Riflepunk. Peter Brett? You could almost call his post-apocalyptic fantasy.

Here, I’m just calling a book a plain, vanilla fantasy novel without any further qualifiers. I feel comfortable doing that because it’s a very…generic story. There are few cases where I just never got interested in a book—The Waking Fire is one such—but I can’t remember the last time I was genuinely bored by fantasy.

And that’s because there’s just nothing here. A lot of words, almost no substance. A plot that barely goes anywhere. A cast of characters that sometimes seems like D&D pregens. (The orphan boy with hidden talents, the female fighter to show diversity, the necromancer anti-hero…) This really is the most generic novel I’ve read in probably 30 years. And the ones back then were Magic: the Gathering tie-ins!

Just so I don’t spend the whole post bashing the novel, let’s talk about the good points. First of all, the magic system Hogan describes is built around wards and runes inscribed into various materials. It’s similar to the wards of Brett’s Demon Cycle series, but they feel a lot more science-y. Although the descriptions were barebones, my imagination visualized them as something more akin to schematics than anything. And the narrative does reinforce that image in a few places. Very cool to my rational and geeky brain.

Another aspect of the magic of this created world is the perceived difference between destructive and creative sorcery. Many of the "craftings" (my ebook copy inexplicably had this word italicized in every occurrence) are made from wood or metal, and they have a constructive purpose. They’re lights or security systems, in effect, which only adds to the engineer-like flavor. On the other hand, "destructive" magics are banned, prohibited, verboten, and considered downright evil.

Here’s where the author had a chance to make a positive statement, but punted. The sorcerers of the major city that is the focus for the book’s action have a secret police dedicated to stamping out any embers of alleged destructive sorcery. Naturally, they have to use this same forbidden knowledge to fight against it, but what they consider destructive is…odd, to say the least. Elemental magic is prohibited, because someone could use magical fire to commit arson, for example.

It’s the typical progressive argument against gun ownership, merely transplanted into a fantasy world. At multiple points, in fact, Master Simmon, the teacher character who leads this covert ops team—that’s not even an exaggeration—states that destructive sorcery is banned despite its positive benefits, because some people might use it for ill. In other words, because a random thug decided to shoot someone, the rest of us can’t defend ourselves.

Indeed, the idea of disarming the populace extends beyond that, as denizens of the city of Anasoma, even including their cops, are barred from carrying a sword in public. Civilians can’t even carry a club. It’s a liberal paradise, really, but Hogan doesn’t do much to show why that’s a dystopia to anyone with any sense. Even those seeking to invade don’t care about the politics.

But that’s because he doesn’t do much to show anything. The city is depicted as a cesspool of crime and violence; the main protagonist, Caldan, is mugged in his first week there. It’s a place where everyone is out for himself, everything is bleak and depressing, and we’re somehow supposed to care about it. By the end of the book, I didn’t mind if it was razed to the ground, along with the rest of the empire.

If I sound harsh, it’s because I expected more. A Crucible of Souls got great reviews, and was recommended by people I usually trust. I figured it would be a titanic clash of sorcerers, an epic setting, and all those nice things. Instead, it’s a very generic story. The characters are cookie-cutter. There’s very little worldbuilding. The subplots don’t really go anywhere, yet somehow get bundled up at the end in a bit of deus ex machina.

There’s nothing bad about this book. (Well, maybe some of the prose, but I’ve become a terrible critic of that in recent years.) The problem is, there’s nothing really good about it, either. Except for the magic system, which is genuinely interesting and would give me enough material for an entire series of my own, very little actually stands out. At times, it feels like an RPG campaign that got carried away.

And that’s fine, if that’s what you’re after. I prefer distinctiveness. I prefer books, even fantasy novels, that make me think, that make me consider angles and aspects I may have dismissed before. Failing that, give me a story that’s a fun ride.

Maybe Mitchell Hogan can pull that off. From what I saw in A Crucible of Souls, however, I doubt it. This is a rare miss, and the only reason I finished it is because I didn’t have time to read a different book. So the Summer Reading List for 2025 ends on a down note, alas. Fortunately, the rest of my life makes up for it, as you’ll see soon enough.