An Explanatory Note

I realize that my first post here was a bit obscure, and likely left you wondering what Exit Cave Right is all about. First, an initial word on Jonathan Swift and A Modest Proposal. Professor Jaffa obviously did not point me to this text for chronological or stylistic reasons, but for moral and philosophical ones. In other words, the pamphlet does not occupy a starting point in time from which all other literary themes flow, nor does it represent the beginnings of a new artistic form. What it does do is present a practical dilemma juxtaposed with a moral one. Jaffa was implicitly telling me that any investigation of Western thought had to be framed by the general question that is asked by the particular circumstances of Swift's 18th century Ireland. That question is simply this: what is "right" as opposed to what is merely useful? A subsequent post will explore this question in light of how and why Swift's satire poses it.

This brings us to another query: What is this blog all about? I envision two complementary purposes for it. The first concerns the already-stated task at hand, that is, a thorough study of the history of Western ideas. This objective itself raises practical dilemmas (where to begin? what path to follow? where to end?), as well as a theoretical paradox (if there is, in fact, a distinct tradition that we can fairly call "the West," what exactly is it? what are its components, and is the sum of those components greater than its parts? what "Western" ideas and ideals have been influenced by "non-Western" ones, and vice versa?). I have only very preliminary answers to this barrage of questions, but hope, through the outlet that this website provides, to gradually move toward more profound and more complete versions of those answers, and to begin to grasp a greater understanding of, and a greater appreciation for, the subject under examination.

So, the first purpose of the blog is to allow me to organize, save, and share my thoughts as I proceed on this quixotic quest (and to benefit from the wisdom of the few select readers whose interest I may capture). The second purpose (and the two are mutually reinforcing) will be to comment on matters, whether contemporary or historic, practical or artistic, that I happen across, even if they may, if only for a moment, wrench my project from its directed path. And, indeed, these may be necessary detours, for what is an understanding of the past without recognizing its ability to illuminate the present? And toward what end go the judgments of today and our visions for the future without grasping what has gone before?

Harry Jaffa and Jonathan Swift

In the summer of 2005 I had the good fortune to find myself seated across from the eminent conservative scholar Harry V. Jaffa at a dinner party in southern California. I'd graduated from college a little more than a year before this encounter, and despite the stamp on my official academic transcript that deemed me a major in the "Classics," I felt that my understanding of the roots of Western civilization was far from complete. To rectify this unacceptable state of affairs, it occurred to me that I might ask Professor Jaffa where to begin if I was to embark on a personal intellectual journey through the philosophy, theology, and history of the rich cultural tradition that I was so much in awe of.

I posed the question, my voice quivering just a bit, and tried to anticipate his response. There were four likely candidates, I thought: the Old Testament, Plato's Republic, the History of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides, and Homer's Iliad. I was wrong on all counts.

"Jonathan Swift," I heard him say.

Excuse me!?

"Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal, are you familiar with it?"

I've heard the name, yes.

"You should begin there."

Baffled at first, the Professor kindly explained his instructions. I eventually understood. Then, on my way back to the east coast, in truly fortuitous fashion, the airport bookstore happened to have one last copy of Swift's famous pamphlet, albeit one that was subsumed by a larger text that included the author's more famous Gulliver's Travels. I took the paperback off the shelf, approached the check-out counter, and handed over four dollars and ninety-five cents.

The journey had begun.