Restoration

‘RESTORATION” has not evoked warm feelings from conservatives in recent years. The term suggests a royalist sense of entitlement and a Tory sensibility. It reminds the literate that Henry Kissinger wrote a book praising the decidedly un-American Metternich under the title A World Restored. Kevin Phillips, seeking to delegitimize the Bush victory, called it a restoration. The usage did not outlast 9/11, but it was a shrewd thrust: Most contemporary American conservatives see themselves in the pioneering terms of the New World, breaking new ground, establishing societies based on merit, and favoring innovation generally. They equate restoration with an unproductive nostalgia. Once we transfer this attitude to the arts, however, it seems absurdly philistine. Even in direct political terms conservatism’s success in the 1980s in the U.S. and Britain was in part the rediscovery of traditions of enterprise and patriotism that had been derided only a few years before. And when it comes to the permanent things, Russell Kirk is there to remind us that tradition is their carrier even in such preeminently modern nations as the U.S. If that is so, how much more true must it be of countries in Central and Eastern Europe that had their traditions uprooted by half a century of totalitarianism. Innovation there was almost purely destructive. To the degree that they could, Nazism and Communism made their subject nations physical and moral wastelands. Poland suffered more than most-but it managed to preserve its moral character and national traditions largely because the Catholic Church, too powerful to suppress entirely, acted as their guardian. Now Poland is free to restore its distinctive civilization in freedom-and the process of restoration is visible on every hand.

Cracow is one of the most beautiful of European cities. Its superb central square is the equal of the great squares of Brussels and Madrid. It is also one of the most learned of cities-hosting about a dozen universities-and an unusually devout one. It is the city of which Karol Wojtyla was archbishop; his picture is everywhere.

About the Author

John O’Sullivan

John O’Sullivan is a senior fellow at National Review Institute and a contributing editor of National Review.

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‘RESTORATION” has not evoked warm feelings from conservatives in recent years. The term suggests a royalist sense of entitlement and a Tory sensibility. It reminds the literate that Henry Kissinger wrote a book praising the decidedly un-American Metternich under the title A World Restored. Kevin Phillips, seeking to delegitimize the Bush victory, called it a restoration. The usage did not outlast 9/11, but it was a shrewd thrust: Most contemporary American conservatives see themselves in the pioneering terms of the New World, breaking new ground, establishing societies based on merit, and favoring innovation generally. They equate restoration with an unproductive nostalgia. Once we transfer this attitude to the arts, however, it seems absurdly philistine. Even in direct political terms conservatism’s success in the 1980s in the U.S. and Britain was in part the rediscovery of traditions of enterprise and patriotism that had been derided only a few years before. And when it comes to the permanent things, Russell Kirk is there to remind us that tradition is their carrier even in such preeminently modern nations as the U.S. If that is so, how much more true must it be of countries in Central and Eastern Europe that had their traditions uprooted by half a century of totalitarianism. Innovation there was almost purely destructive. To the degree that they could, Nazism and Communism made their subject nations physical and moral wastelands. Poland suffered more than most-but it managed to preserve its moral character and national traditions largely because the Catholic Church, too powerful to suppress entirely, acted as their guardian. Now Poland is free to restore its distinctive civilization in freedom-and the process of restoration is visible on every hand.

Cracow is one of the most beautiful of European cities. Its superb central square is the equal of the great squares of Brussels and Madrid. It is also one of the most learned of cities-hosting about a dozen universities-and an unusually devout one. It is the city of which Karol Wojtyla was archbishop; his picture is everywhere.