2024

THE ANGLOSPHERIC DIFFERENCE:

The Dream World of Modern Intellectuals (Robert Lowry Clinton, 8/05/24, Public Discourse)

Much of modern philosophy is a deterministic fantasy world.The doctrine that most fundamentally characterizes modernity’s spiritual revolt is materialism. The fateful rediscovery of the ancient philosophers Democritus and Lucretius by René Descartes, Thomas Hobbes, and others in the seventeenth century led ultimately to a revolution in the way many people (especially intellectuals) conceive the nature of reality. Hobbes taught that everything is made of matter, and that even human thoughts are a result of the motion of material particles in the brain. It goes without saying that the implications of this teaching are vast, for if materialism is true, then much else will follow in its trail.

Materialism holds that all is matter. If this is true, then psychologism—the doctrine that human behavior is motivated entirely by underlying forces in the human psyche that are essentially and ultimately beyond our control—must also be true. This is the case for two reasons. First, if all is matter, the mind is matter and the laws that govern mind are the laws that govern matter. Hence mind is reducible to brain—atoms, molecules, electrical impulses and the laws that govern such things. Second, since the part of the human psyche that governs our relation to physical things is the appetite (desire and aversion), and since the part of the psyche that governs our responses to the satisfaction (or non-satisfaction) of appetite is emotion, it follows that, under materialism, human beings are necessarily governed by appetites and emotions. Since appetites and emotions are either unconscious or semi-conscious forces, the idea that a purely rational faculty exists that is capable of governing our appetites and emotions (what we want or how we feel) must be regarded as an illusion.

If materialism and psychologism are true, it follows in turn that determinism—the doctrine that all events, including human choices, are strictly determined by previous events or situations—is also necessarily true. This must be so because all matter—including the atoms, molecules, and electrical impulses that constitute the brain under materialism—is extended in space. That is, all material objects (however small) “take up” or “occupy” space. At the same time, all appetites take time (again, however small the interval) to fulfill or satisfy. So we might say that appetite is likewise extended, not only in space, but also in time. This means that human choices, which are fully motivated and constituted by desire for material objects and the emotions consequent upon satisfaction (or non-satisfaction) of such desire, are strictly determined by the character and intensity of the desires. In other words, the desires are always antecedent to their satisfaction or non-satisfaction, and the emotions are always consequent to the same. Thus Hobbesian atomism inexorably generates psychological determinism.

Epistemology

Scientific naturalism, or what I prefer to call “scientism,” is the chief epistemological complement of materialism. It is the doctrine that holds that the only route to knowledge is through the physical sciences, that we can only know what these sciences discover. Full-blown scientism involves a number of doctrinal corollaries, and all of these are rooted in materialism in one way or another. If materialism and its metaphysical complements are true, then all is matter, and it stands to reason that, since matter is all there is, then matter is all there is to know, is all that can be known, and the ways of knowing matter are the only ways of knowing anything at all.

Going hand-in-hand with the idea that the ways of knowing matter are the only ways of knowing anything, is the doctrine of empiricism, which in its general form holds that we can know things only through sense experience. This stands to reason because the five physical senses provide our only direct access to the material world. If matter is all there is, and all that can be known, then our knowing anything whatever must be wholly dependent on that part of the psyche that provides direct access to what may be known. When combined with materialism and scientism, empiricism takes a radical form that denies the existence of any knowledge not directly traceable either to sense impressions or to quantitative reasoning based on those impressions. As David Hume famously said, any other knowledge claims should be committed to the flames, for they “contain nothing but sophistry and illusion.”

Morals and Politics

Materialism and its epistemological complements have catastrophic implications for moral and political science. Perhaps the most obvious of these is hedonism: the doctrine that reduces human happiness to pleasure. Since human beings seek happiness, it is understandable that, if we think that all is matter, we will seek our happiness in the satisfaction of physical desire. Likewise, if we build our social science on this premise, we will seek to find a way to measure such satisfaction so that it can be made the basis for social policy. This leads straightforwardly to utilitarianism—the doctrine that happiness equals satisfaction maximized, measurable in “utiles,” and aggregable as a basis for policy decisions.

In the end, the metaphysics, epistemology, and morality of materialism generate an almost irresistible urge in some thinkers to attempt the construction of secular utopias via the employment of political power. The reason for this is clear: human beings cannot really live with the full implications of materialism and its complements, because the ultimate implication of all these doctrines is death. All such attempts are rooted in the illusion—the quintessential second reality—that Man can replace God as ruler of the world.

The insight that Rationalism is another form of faith saved us from the error of these ways, which afflicted the Continent.

NO ONE WILL MISS CHEVRON:

Cutting Red Tape To Spur Economic Growth: U.S. states that have implemented policies such as regulatory budgets that cut red tape tend to grow faster than states that have maintained the status quo (Patrick McLaughlin, Aug 01, 2024, Discourse)

[S}everal U.S. states have reformed their regulatory process in some way over the past few years. The movement was arguably inspired by the Canadian province of British Columbia, which in 2001 recognized a need to cut some of the regulatory red tape that had built up over time. British Columbia’s groundbreaking red tape reduction initiative succeeded in reducing the quantity of regulations on its books by about 40% within three years. Moreover, the red tape reduction caused the province’s economic growth rate to increase by more than one percentage point, thereby converting British Columbia from economic laggard to leader in just a few years.

Now that some U.S. states have taken steps toward cutting accumulated red tape as well, we can start to answer some basic questions about these policy innovations: How well are they working in terms of cutting red tape? And are reform states seeing increased economic growth as a result, like British Columbia experienced? The positive effect of reforming the regulatory process and cutting red tape should not be ignored: Seemingly, any jurisdiction that proactively avoids unnecessary accumulation and cuts red tape might be able to boost its economy as British Columbia did.

GOD BLESS THE CRUCIBLE:

How and Why American Communism Failed: One historian’s about-face on the Communist record (Ronald Radosh, Aug 02, 2024, The Bulwark)

WHAT MAURICE ISSERMAN HAS ACCOMPLISHED in this well-written and superb history of the American Communist Party is a fresh assessment that will force many who have previously studied the party to revise some views. Fellow-traveler historians rejected any critical views of the party’s role, and argued that Communists valiantly fought to expand American freedom and dismissed the accusations of espionage against party members as unwarranted McCarthyite attacks. Even the historian Eric Foner argued that “the tiny Communist Party hardly posed a threat to American security” and that its members were guilty of “nothing more than holding unpopular beliefs and engaging in totally legitimate political activities.” Isserman has put an end to the argument of those who still believe in the Communist Party’s total innocence.

In contrast, the anti-Communist liberal Sidney Hook famously wrote first in a 1950 article in the New York Times titled “Heresy, Yes—But Conspiracy, No,” later expanded into a book by the same title, that the CPUSA was a conspiracy on behalf of the Soviet Union under Stalin and hence its members could not be judged by the standards used to discuss arguments made by advocates of other doctrines. The Communist teacher, for example, was not expressing a heretical idea; he was under Communist Party discipline and was in fact advocating for revolution and subservience to policies of the Soviet Union, thus was not engaging in ideas that could be freely debated. Even those who had no connection with espionage, in Hook’s eyes, were part of the conspiracy.

Isserman establishes that in fact, many American Communists struggled to wage a good fight for things like full civil rights for black Americans at a moment when others either gave it mere lip service or supported Jim Crow laws. Yet these same Communists who often made sacrifices to expand American democracy would, when instructed, betray their own country and become spies for the Soviet Union.

In fact, the party frequently put aside its principles—egalitarian, revolutionary, or otherwise—for the sake of political expediency. During World War II, the party was so loyal to the Roosevelt administration that it gave its tacit support to the internment of Japanese Americans, even though American Communists of Japanese descent were among those rounded up and imprisoned there. Similarly, the CPUSA approved of the Justice Department’s successful prosecution of a group of Trotskyist leaders of the Teamsters Union in Minnesota under the Smith Act, which criminalized advocating the overthrow of the U.S. government by force and violence, and later cheered any government crackdown against anti-war groups. The Trotskyists, unlike the CPUSA, viewed the American war effort as an imperialist act of aggression. Ironically, during the postwar Red Scare, major CPUSA leaders were convicted under the same law.

THE RULE OF LAW REQUIRES LAWS:

Looking at Loper Bright More Broadly (Jim Harper, 7/31/24, AEIdeas)

Loper Bright restored courts’ authority to determine the law, as opposed to giving agencies the power to decide what their authorizing statutes mean. This, Lyons rightly says, will pose challenges to “FCC initiatives that capitalized on ambiguous language to accomplish the agency’s policy objectives.”


He’s right, and it is amazing to observe that net neutrality regulation—the law governing the provision of internet service—has been a political ping-pong ball. It has absurdly changed (or threatened to change) with each change of political control in the White House. In what kind of banana republic does the law change simply with the election of one candidate or another? That is no “rule of law” country.

THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS ONE TRUE LOVE:

What Is Love? A Philosopher Explains It’s Not A Choice Or A Feeling − It’s A Practice (Edith Gwendolyn Nally, Aug 1, 2024, Discover)


The ancient Greek philosopher Plato thought that love might cause feelings like attraction and pleasure, which are out of your control. But these feelings are less important than the loving relationships you choose to form as a result: lifelong bonds between people who help one another change and grow into their best selves.

Similarly, Plato’s student Aristotle claimed that, while relationships built on feelings like pleasure are common, they’re less good for humankind than relationships built on goodwill and shared virtues. This is because Aristotle thought relationships built on feelings last only as long as the feelings last. […]

Plato and Aristotle both thought that love is more than a feeling. It’s a bond between people who admire one another and therefore choose to support one another over time.

Maybe, then, love isn’t totally out of your control.

A RELIGION OF FORM, NOT SUBSTANCE:

Nineteenth Century French Catholics’ Challenge to Integralism (Jennifer Conner, 2023, Hillsdale Forum)

But not all nineteenth century Catholics felt that liberalism, and the tolerance it brought with it, was getting in the way of the common good. For these Catholics, liberal policies were the guarantors of the Church’s freedom, and a free Church ultimately brought about the common good. Freedom of the Church was a major concern in restoration France. The Concordat signed by Napoleon was still in effect, making Church officials salaried employees of the state and obliging clergy to swear an oath of loyalty to the French state. Historic Church lands were still in the possession of the state and the state monopolized education. The Church and state seemed to be working closely together, but it was hindering the Church.

In the newspaper L’Avenir, Henri Lacordaire argued that the Church needed “to rid itself of all solidarity with a power [the French state] which was not animated by [the Church’s] spirit, and to seek the exercise of the freedoms promised to every citizen.” Lacordaire argued that the French state was not acting in consonance with the Church’s best interests. Critically, his proposed solution is not immediately conforming the state to serve the Church’s interests but rather granting proper freedoms for every citizen. In his view, the state ought to allow the Church to function freely and fulfill its mission. This approach hearkens back to Augustine’s claims in City of God that the task of the state is to maintain peace so that the Church can function. This is very different from Vermeule’s integralist model. Rather than an elite religious group enforcing very particular moral standards from the top of the government, the state would promote tolerance and allow the Church to educate the citizenry and care for their souls. Only then would the people be virtuous, and when their virtuous interests were represented by their government, the laws would become more virtuous in turn, and serve the common good.

In Lacordaire’s view, as long as the state had, in principle, the power to suppress individual rights for the purposes of promoting Catholic ends, it also had the power to oppress the Church. The French state seemed to benefit the Church by bankrolling its officials, but the salaries came with strings attached, including state interference in Catholic education. Lacordaire took umbrage with this particular infringement and, with the help of Lamennais and Montalembert, opened an unsanctioned Catholic school for boys in Paris. Shortly after its opening, state officials came to close the school and seize the building. Lacordaire was forced to send the boys home and he only barely retained the building by claiming it as his residence and pointing to his sleeping mat in the corner of the classroom.

The solution, for Lacordaire, was not a return to an integrated Catholic monarchy, but to promote the separation of Church and state. The Church, he argued, “always had the words reason and liberty on her lips when the inalienable rights of the human race were threatened.” Lacordaire might have been inclined to agree with Joseph Ratzinger’s later explanation of liberty as “having to do with being given a home.” It was through the Church that an individual could reach his true home and true liberty, and in order to fully participate in the Church — to receive a Catholic education, for example — the state ought to adopt a policy of tolerance. Thus there are two kinds of “liberty” at play here: the one is the theological liberty of membership in the Church, and the other is a sort of political tolerance, or willingness to allow a political regime to remain agnostic on certain questions, at least temporarily.

Crucially—here Lacordaire’s liberalism differs from a kind of libertarianism which admits no vision of a common good—the separation of Church and state does not mean that religious values must always remain absent from the law. Ultimately, once individual souls have been gathered into the Church, their moral interests will be represented in popular government and therefore the positive laws of the state will accord more closely with morality. This is a process to be undertaken and it relies upon the conversion of souls; it is not a top-down fix predicated upon an all-knowing religious elite at the top of government foisting their views upon the hoi polloi.

When Lacordaire took Alexander de Tocqueville’s vacant seat in the Académie Francaise, an American reporter remarked that it was strange to see “a man so thoroughly imbued with the worship of the Catholic religion defend, before the world…liberty and equality.” As Lacordaire took the seat dressed in full Dominican habit — he had helped refound the Order of Preachers in France after its abolition during the Revolution — he saw no contradiction. At his induction, he delivered a powerful address affirming the consistency of sincere faith with tolerance, proclaiming his wish to “die a repentant religious and an unrepentant liberal.”

mAN fELL:

SimCity Isn’t a Model of Reality. It’s a Libertarian Toy Land (Kelly Clancy, 6/27/24, Wired)

After Bill Clinton won the 1992 US presidential election on the platform of health care reform, a nonprofit foundation commissioned Thinking Tools to design a hospital-management simulator. Released in 1994, SimHealth was played by policymakers and the public alike—including, famously, Clinton’s daughter, Chelsea. Maxis marketed SimHealth as more than mere entertainment: It was a policy tool and could be used to explore and reason about complex systems. Players assumed the role of a newly elected politician campaigning for health care reform. They used their finite political currency to promote policies that aligned with the values on which they based their election promises. They could track their policy changes against their stated values using a compass-like indicator that pitted Liberty against Equality and Community against Efficiency—ideals that are, in reality, by no means opposed.

Unlike SimCity players, SimHealth players could tinker with the underlying model and adjust hundreds of parameters. Yet tweaking the parameters was not the same as tweaking the models themselves, and the game had a clear ideological bias. Much as in SimCity, there wasn’t exactly a win state. But SimHealth’s values were hard to miss. The game trumpeted a somber funeral march whenever the Canadian-style single-payer socialized medicine plan popped up on the screen. As Keith Schlesinger writes in a review for Computer Gaming World, there was one easy way to win: “All you have to do is adopt an extreme libertarian ideology, eliminate all federal health care (including Medicare!), and cut other government services by $100–$300 billion per year.” Unfortunately, this could hardly be called a health policy victory, as it left the virtual citizens entirely without health coverage. Even the private insurance companies went bankrupt in the first few months. The game was a flop, and 30 years later, health care remains an intractable issue plaguing American politics.

Whereas SimRefinery gave players a new perspective on a complex, though defined, process, the US health care industry is so complex that SimHealth only muddied the waters. Paul Starr, who was a health care policy adviser to the Clinton administration, dismissed the game entirely. “SimHealth contains so much misinformation that no one could possibly understand competing proposals and policies, much less evaluate them, on the basis of the program.” He was concerned that people would mistake the game for a legitimate description of reality. He despaired that his daughter, an avid player, accepted the game’s libertarian-leaning strategies because that was “just the way the game works.”

All simulations are ultimately constrained by their creators’ assumptions: They are self-contained universes ticking along to preprogrammed logic. They don’t necessarily reflect anything fundamental about the world as it is, much less how we may want it to be.

The Bible is the story of even The Creator learning this lesson, which bequeaths liberalism.

BEAUTY IS OBJECTIVE:

Misunderstanding Plato (Paul Krause, July 5, 2024, Minerva Wisdom)

Plato’s cosmos is rationally ordered and hierarchal. It is a reflection of the perfection of the Forms, but not the whole cosmos is a perfect, or ideal, reflection. For instance, we all know the form of beauty looms large in Plato’s philosophy. The cosmos, taken as a whole, is a perfect reflection of the form of beauty. Constitutive parts, the sun, the moon, the stars, the earth, the rivers and trees and hills, etc., are not a perfect reflection of the form of beauty and never will be. Instead, every part of the cosmos has some beauty to it in differing degrees. This is only made possible, and makes sense, when you subscribe to a hierarchy of value and beauty as Plato did (which many moderns no longer do which makes it easier for moderns to misunderstand Plato). That is, in a hierarchy some things are naturally greater than others. Those things that are greater are closer in reflection to the ideal. For Plato, wholeness is the perfect reflection of the ideal. Smaller parts, breaking down to individual pieces, while having some embodiment of the ideal within them, are lesser than the whole.

Thus, the earth, and all that is within the earth, possess nature, a reflection of the ideal, but in comparison to the whole of the cosmos, the earth is lesser. Hence, the earth (alone) is not the fullest reflection of the form of beauty. Instead, the earth, when brought together with the sun, moon, stars, and other planets – that is, when the earth is properly situated in the whole of cosmos – becomes far more important and precious when you understand what function, or role, the earth plays in the perfect beauty and reflection of totality. This coming to know the truth magnifies the beauty of the earth and all within it.

CRANK IT UP:

The Scholar Who Inspired a Legion of Cranks (Colin Dickey, JULY 16, 2024, The Chronicle Review)

The publication of The Book of the Damned was a watershed moment in 20th-century culture. Without Fort, there would be no X-Files or Twin Peaks, no Unsolved Mysteries or In Search Of…, no Ancient Aliens or the dozens of similar shows on History and the Discovery Channel. Fort’s book gave space to theories and beliefs that were dubious, unpopular, and problematic; it gave readers tools to push back against biologists, physicists, and historians; and it encouraged people to remain skeptical toward academic orthodoxies. There had been plenty of cranks before Fort’s time: amateurs who’d set themselves up as pseudo-archaeologists to argue for the existence of Atlantis or pseudo-physicists to prove that ghosts were real. Having tried and abandoned that tactic, Fort found success by critiquing the establishment without offering a fully fleshed-out alternative theory. He didn’t need to have the answers; what he instead demanded was that scholars take seriously all that he claimed they had ignored and damned to irrelevance.

Fort inspired a legion of acolytes, and they are the subject of Think to New Worlds: The Cultural History of Charles Fort and His Followers (University of Chicago Press, June 2024), by Joshua Blu Buhs. While Fort himself has been the subject of several biographies, Forteans, Buhs writes, are far less understood, “ignored or dismissed as etiolated imitators.” This is unfortunate, he argues, because those who wrestled with Fort seriously “forged a unique response to modernity,” and their influence had a long, if unexpected, tail. These followers set themselves the task of transforming Fort from an outlier — “a magnificent nut,” in Tarkington’s words — to the center of a movement. How, they asked, could Forteanism be made into some kind of discipline, method, or system? Can a positive program be assembled from the facts of the damned? Can one make a science out of the rejection of science?

Perhaps the person most invested in this question was Tiffany Thayer, Fort’s main devotee and the man most responsible for attempting to shape his legacy. During the 1930s, Thayer had been an incredibly successful novelist, his lurid blockbuster Thirteen Men having made him a household name. (The follow-up, Thirteen Women, would be adapted as a pre-Code shocker starring Myrna Loy and Irene Dunne.) Thayer reached out to Fort when the latter’s career was at a low ebb, and helped get Fort’s third book, Lo!, published in 1931. He subsequently helped organize the original Fortean Society in New York City — a collective that would include Dreiser and Tarkington as well as other eminent literary men like the cultural critic H.L. Mencken and the playwright and screenwriter Ben Hecht. The Society’s goal, according to Dreiser, was “to make scientists take Fort seriously — as a thinker, not a crank.” It was a group effort at first, with the various members taking turns editing the Fortean Society’s magazine, Doubt. But gradually Thayer came to the fore, taking over the editorship of Doubt as well as Fort’s archives after Fort died in 1932.


Thayer devoted most of the rest of his career to attempting to shape Fort’s legacy and to establish a Fortean way of doing things, a methodology that could be self-sustaining in the absence of the author’s inimitable literary personality. Think to New Worlds chronicles Thayer’s attempts to create a stable discipline of Forteanism while constantly pushing back against the various ways in which other readers and thinkers tried to use Fort.

In a sense, the Fortean method was simple: Doubt everything, refuse to accept anything on faith, and seek out that which is generally excluded from dominant epistemologies. This radical skepticism was, Buhs notes, a kind of “anti-religion,” and Fort’s books became a Bible for those who’d seen the improbable or believed the implausible. Ufologists, from the start, leaned heavily on Fort’s work. As soon as the pilot Kenneth Arnold reported seeing nine shiny, unidentified flying objects flying past Mount Rainier in June 1947 (setting off the modern UFO craze), believers were quick to look to Fort for answers. A Chicago AP writer published a report of Arnold’s sighting alongside various evidence that he had pulled from Fort’s collected works as a means of bolstering Arnold’s claims: The unsigned article, “Rare Book Tells of Freak Discs in the Sky Long Ago,” culled passages from The Book of the Damned regarding “a luminous cloud moving at high velocity” over Florence, Italy, in 1731, “globes of light seen in the air” over Swabia in 1732, an “octagonal star” seen over Slavange, Norway, in 1752, and an event that happened in Skeninge, Sweden, in 1808, where the “sun turned brick red” and “there appeared on the Western horizon a number of round objects, dark brown in color and seemingly the size of a hat crown” that “passed overhead and disappeared on the eastern horizon.” Arnold’s was not, it seemed, an isolated experience: Here was a long, detailed history of similar sightings, alongside rains of frogs and reports of mutilated livestock. As more sightings accumulated and as people began to think governments were hiding something from the public, ufologists increasingly turned to Forteanism to help bolster their credibility.

Thayer fought back against this tendency, doing his best to keep Forteanism from becoming synonymous with ufology. Doubt had long solicited reports from its readers, but by the early 1950s Thayer’s mailbag was swamped with UFO sightings, which he tried to keep out of the magazine as much as possible. He had begun to doubt the doubters, and wondered whether the whole thing was only a hoax concocted by the CIA. The credulity with which the public embraced UFOs bothered him, and the ways in which the UFO community wanted to reduce all examples of Forteana to visitation by aliens enraged him. In 1953 he wrote to a friend, “I am now killing every man woman or child who says ‘saucer’ to me.”

Another contingent of Forteans could be found among science-fiction writers, who consistently mined Fort’s work for ideas. As John W. Campbell, author of Who Goes There? (the basis for John Carpenter’s The Thing) and editor of Astounding Science Fiction, wrote of the 1941 Thayer-edited omnibus The Books of Charles Fort, “It probably averages one science-fiction or fantasy plot idea to the page.” Fort had offered up nothing but a litany of the weird, the unusual, the thought-provoking, and the impossible — precisely the kind of things that science-fiction writers loved. H.P. Lovecraft’s The Whisperer in Darkness begins with a textbook Fortean element: newspaper reports of odd and inexplicable things of unknown organic matter (“pinkish things about five feet long; with crustaceous bodies bearing vast pairs of dorsal fins or membraneous wings and several sets of articulated limbs, and with a sort of convoluted ellipsoid, covered with multitudes of very short antennae, where a head would ordinarily be”) found in the wake of a historic flood. An early Robert Heinlein story, “Goldfish Bowl,” features two Fortean investigators whose inquiry into a pair of mysterious water spouts (a favorite anomaly of Fort’s) leads to revelations of disturbing alien intelligence. Frank Herbert, the author of Dune, mentions Fort by name in his story “Rat Race,” and in Stephen King’s novel Firestarter (which is about pyrokinesis, a staple Fortean topic), a man reads Lo! to his daughter as a bedtime story.

Thayer tolerated the science-fiction writers more than he did the ufologists, but not by much. Despite his own success writing commercial potboilers, Thayer remained far more interested in modernism and the avant-garde: “Science fiction was too conventional, too hackneyed, and boring,” Buhs explains. Thayer dreamed of Fortean dance, Fortean music, whatever that might possibly look like. But he found it impossible to guide Doubt’s readership away from science fiction and weird tales.

Swapping one crank science for another is not skepticism.

NIRVANA?:

What it’s like to live for five days on an uninhabited Scottish island (Patrick Galbraith, July 6, 2019, Country Life)

Scarba is a precipitous mountain rising up between two notoriously dangerous tidal races. To the south, the Corryvreckan Whirlpool rages and, to the north, the Grey Dogs rushes out into the Atlantic. The former almost killed George Orwell in 1948 when he misread the tide and the latter is said to be the watery grave of a Viking prince’s canine companion. According to Hebridean lore, the ghost of the drowned dog prowls the cliffs on moonless nights, seeking out the souls of shipwrecked sailors sheltering in caves along the shore.

It was in the back of one of the more luxurious caves — luxurious on account of the goat dung littering the floor being relatively dry — that I decided to unpack my sleeping bag. Five minutes later, after finding a ledge for the books I had with me and pouring a little whisky, I declared the place home.

Earlier that day, a ginger-haired man on the mainland assured me that, not far above the rocky scree on Scarba, there’s ‘a wee lochan full of famished trout’. Capitulating to my hunger, I picked up my fishing rod and walked out into the rain.

An hour later, I was still walking and, an hour after that, with darkness beginning to threaten, I traced my way back.

That night, as the flames of my feeble fire threw shadows on the back wall, I shivered in silence and looked at my dog. Not long ago, she would have roamed the island looking for things to kill, but, now, her muzzle grows grey and she only cares for afternoons by the Aga.

‘Fishing with hunger in your belly and despair in your heart is altogether different’
At 8pm, I forced myself into a sleeping bag that had belonged to my brother when he was a Boy Scout of slender build. Lying there half-suffocating, with my nipples exposed to the wind and desperately willing sleep to come, I evaluated Hattie. In 2011, I paid £200 for her as a puppy, so I estimated she’s cost about 0.05p a day — remarkable value for a dog of such kindness.

Then, I awoke. Hoping it was 4am or 5am, I turned over my watch. Painfully, it was just 10pm. The rest of the night followed the same pattern — I would lull myself to sleep with some tedious calculation and then awake an hour later, starving, frightened and cold.