In this space, we are examining St. Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae (specifically the Secunda Pars) through a distinct lens: how judgment in arts and letters connects to the virtue of prudence by bringing it down from the speculative heights of philosophy to everyday life.
Secondarily, we approach "taste" as the lifelong cultivation of critical judgement and contrast this becoming daughter of the virtue of prudence with its evil stepsister we call snobbery.
Two points on snobs: first, they exist and must be ridiculed. Among Christians (especially the most traddie sort), they are rampant and their presence off-putting. That is true. Notwithstanding my own preference for traditional form, I will not overlook that reality in the least! But there is also erring by the other extreme: to believe that anybody who believes in the objective moral order is a snob or a prig (if not a "fascist" or some other such thing) is also amiss.
"Snobbery" so-called is conflated in the eyes of a democratically minded people (and here I'm using a charitable euphemism by calling them "democratic") as tantamount to the belief in superiority per se. But even the masses have their celebrities, their "idols", and so this is plainly untrue that everyone is "equal."
We all believe in hierarchies and ranks.
We all make so-called "value judgements" day in and day out.
Some are simply more honest and upfront about it. That is the only difference. As a work of pure fantasy, a true moral relativist seems a very quiet monster, true, but a monster all the same. Toleration of great evils is itself monstrous by participation. It isn't a reach to say that our world is full of such petty monsters.
Our understanding of "elitism" must change then not because it is unfashionable to admit it exists, but only because what passes for an "elite" today is not actually worth emulating.
How so? Well, do I have enough time in the day to speak of their false virtue?
First, they are not brave. Claiming to be "brave" and actively doing something society actually incentivizes at such a low cost does not make one "brave."
As far as politicians go, they don't send their sons into the war. They sign off on things and go to lunch. They do not experience the repercussions of their beliefs about this or that military "operation." They are no Charlemagnes leading their men into war. They are no Churchill broadcasting on the radio during an air raid.
Moreover, they are neither family-oriented nor chaste. There raise no "model families" for households to emulate. In fact, their families are practically just an economic convenience only.
Beyond that, they are immodest in their public personas and sully their own dignity by welcoming more and more attention for themselves.
They are liberal in their opinions but not so with their time, talent, and wealth. "Magnanimity" is something that would strike them as a funny sounding word.
They lack a sense of disinterestedness in things they understand which used to be the hallmark of an aristocrat or humility in staying clear of what they do not know because a well-bred person is cautious of preserving his socially bound interests which discretion alone enables.
What the Italian courtiers called sprezzatura eludes them. They do not stay in their own lanes but mistake their fame with excellence in general. Because 10 million people bought their sound-engineered album of little merit or originality, they think they are experts of geopolitics, the environment and public health.
They are profoundly ignorant and lack all shame as to their lack of understanding because they know which side is winning and lean into it (Aristocrats toward the end of their existence once entirely served simply to put a check on public opinion not to aid and abet it).
They simply do not cherish the virtues in public life (and thus, they cannot claim to be "leaders"). Yes, even while many elites in the past did not live up to the virtuous life in private, few actually challenged the role they were expected to play. That is no longer the case today. Bill Gates does not want you to think of him as different than you in a very specific and explicit sense even when his behavior says otherwise.
To downplay one's own elitism and privilege is a way of passing the buck of social responsibility. That much is painfully obvious.
And these are woefully irresponsible times.
Because we no longer have a true aristocracy even in name, we must rescue the charge of "snobbery" and even "elitism" from the task of cultural criticism itself by reserving that label for the poseurs who lack self-awareness and humility when tasked with society's great challenges.
Yes, there are snobs. They are noted for their inability to demonstrate their undeserved sense of superiority not because of their taste alone. The whole compass of their motivation is to seem deserving without actually being superior and making the sacrifices (either by omission or commission) by virtue of their contribution to social reality.
Now, am I just a second-rate Christopher Lasch? I hope not! For I ask a higher question: what does the heavenly hierarchy have to do with an earthly aristocracy and its loss? And why if the former is necessary is it somehow ok to neglect the latter?
How should Christian Democracy contend with the reality (and thus necessity) of Christian elites [including the fact that we have priests, bishops, cardinals, etc.]? How should a Christian of high social standing comport themselves in the face of institutional decay and pseudo-individualism of Mass Man? Where are we to provide a modern mirror of princes to those who have the talents and vision to lead? These are big political questions, but their inroads are mainly cultural and concern the education of elites [that is, the opening topic of Plato's Republic]. For this reason, a blog about the culture of private education is worth exploring.
Complex political problems, which we obviously face, cannot be resolved if the decision makers remain totally vicious.
Alongside this moral and political task, we will consider how reading secular literature can complement what we traditionally call "spiritual reading". The thrust of this sub-blog is mainly for youth and those who educate, but it can equally apply to the parent who wishes they had a liberal education in the first place.
Why Prudence and Literature Go Hand-in-Hand
Prudence is a cardinal virtue that steers us toward the right path in life. But how do we practice making sound decisions without facing the full, dangerous consequences of our mistakes?
Other than entertaining us, this is where literature proves invaluable. Reading allows us to test-drive life's choices through other people—whether real or imaginary—without bearing the actual fallout first-hand. Much like Dante observing the burning desire of Francesca and Paolo, we can witness the destination of unchecked passions without stepping into the fire ourselves.
The Fractured Meaning of "Good"
Why is there such a disconnect between a moral "good deed" or aesthetic "good taste" and qualitative judgments like a "good apple," a "good knife," or "good lawnmower"?
That split is not natural in that one is "subjective" and the other "objective" but largely reflects the result of our fallen state and our spiritual blindness as to the objective moral order.
Yet the imagination is not merely a tool for temptation as a kind of self-willed overlay to moral reality. When properly directed, it can help form our conscience, guide our self-betterment, and (at least for observant Catholics) prepare us for a more honest approach to the Sacrament of Penance.
Why We Think in Stories (And Why Jesus Taught in Parables)
Humans are embodied creatures living within time. Because our lives follow a beginning, middle, and end, we naturally make sense of existence through narrative.
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The Power of Story: Stories provide patterns to live by. They shape our affections—evident in how people "fall in love" through shared narratives—and help align us with something higher than ourselves.
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Divine Precedent: Jesus did not merely hand down abstract bullet points; He taught in parables. By using phrases like "The Kingdom of Heaven is like...", He employed the known world to help us grasp the unknown, meeting our narrative-driven nature head-on.
Navigating Beyond Relativism and Absolutism
Reading literature through moral theology helps us navigate the complexities of modern life without falling into two common extremes:
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Moral Relativism: The false premise that no actions are intrinsically right or wrong.
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Strict Moral Absolutism: A rigid approach that ignores the particular, messy circumstances of individual lives.
By drawing on the wisdom of courtier Balthasar Gracián and the moral theologian Alphonsus Liguori (an unlikely pairing), we can learn to balance fixed principles with real-world realities.
Literature helps train our tastes and sensibilities, rendering divine truths more appealing and worldly distractions less tempting. But developing discretion requires much study and even more reflection upon your both first-hand and second-hand experiences.
The Parallel Between the Novel and the Confessional
Have you ever noticed how reading a novel feels deeply intimate and even confessional?
Between the 18th and 20th centuries, "book reading" emerged as a primary vehicle for moral education. Some literary historians note a fascinating parallel: the novel placed the reader in isolation with their conscience and the inner life of characters, much like the confessional placed the penitent alone with a priest.
Unfortunately, as formal religious observance has declined in the West, the habit of reading followed by a century or so later. That is no coincidence. As this sub-blog will explore, these downward cultural shifts are deeply interconnected. What explains both?
Moving Past Cynicism and Reclaiming the Classics
Today, cultural critics often view "distinction" or "taste" as mere societal gatekeeping—a tool for asserting intellectual superiority. But it does not have to function that way.
Instead of yielding to the cynical critiques of postmodern "critical theory" or an endless obsession with fleeting entertainment, we can return to the classics. As G.K. Chesterton observed, true progress should mean shaping the world to fit a timeless vision of the good, rather than constantly altering our vision to fit a broken world. To become a classical gentleman does not mean relinquishing your authentic self anymore than operating within the constraints of a given genre means all detective stories have basically the same plot and characters. If so, why are only a certain handful of detective stories actually read and re-read while so many stay on the bookshelves?
It is worth meditating upon the relationship between a genre and a classic of that genre. Sometimes the preferred course of action is not to do something "new" or "revolutionary" from the beginning but to do something great, or nearly perfect, by the end.
Where We Go From Here
True cultural and spiritual reform does not begin with grand political revolutions. It begins quietly—within the intimate space of our thoughts, the pages of a well-worn book, and quiet reflection.
Let us leave the noise behind, look to the Angelic Doctor for guidance, and learn how to read, think, and live with greater purpose.
The world could offer us so much more, if we merely demanded more from ourselves alone.