The Populist Farmer, Revisited

Via John Schwenkler, I see that Norman Borlaug has just celebrated his 95th birthday. Borlaug, a recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, is one of the primary architects of modern global agriculture, one of the father’s of the “Gree...

Reasoning about Stories

Devon, PA. Here is something for you that no one will dispute: all complaints about modernity, including those that fit under the rubric of “conservative,” are arguments about stories.  Much more than mere competing narratives t...

Against Monoculture

Alexandria, VA. From time to time, I hope to re-post here on this site some writings I’ve previously posted on my website, “What I Saw in America.”  This entry – dated April 27, 2008 – has proven to be among th...

You Say Liturgy, I Say Lechery

I hurried up to Columbia University to inform my friends on the campus that I had located the Communist Party, had made contact with it, and was, in fact, a registered member. By chance, the first man I met as I crossed the campus was one o...

The Rediscovery of Agriculture?

RINGOES, NJ. Recently, a friend and I visited Polyface Farm outside Staunton, Virginia. Polyface is owned and operated by Joel Salatin, whose parents started farming these verdant five-hundred acres in 1961. Polyface is not simply a farm. S...

Wilhelm Röpke’s Swiss Front Porch

One of the few “Austrian economists” to give serious attention to familial, agrarian, and communitarian themes was Wilhelm Röpke , born in Germany yet long associated with his adopted Switzerland. He saw family life as “na...

Men, Boys, and Guns

This past weekend, I was pulled away from the computer, from a sprinkler system that needs to be fixed, from a garden wall that needs to be built, from grading papers and tests, and from all the other vicissitudes of my life as a hopefully ...

Localism vs. Globalism

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS. Mark Thompson has penned a challenging broadside against skeptics of free trade, including me, and he makes a number of arguments that deserve to be answered. There does not seem to me to be much to the argument that comm...

The Surveillance State and Me

PHOENIX, ARIZONA. Three hundred sixty bucks. Two tickets. Over the course of one month. Handed to me not be an overzealous rookie or a peace officer with a quota to meet or . . . well, even by a human being. But by a camera. A camera with p...