by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Step by step, Allende’s Chile is sinking into the dark, cold depths of the communist regime. With the Marxist president in power, each day brings new measures in this direction. Here are a few examples at random. Chile’s foreign minister announced the government’s plan to establish diplomatic relations with all communist states. On the anniversary of the Soviet regime’s founding, the new president and his foreign minister visited the Russian embassy to offer congratulations. A monument honoring “Che Guevara” was unveiled in Santiago: on a pedestal, the communist guerrilla holds a rifle; medallions at its base commemorate other “heroes” of the guerrilla movement, including Carlos Marighella. The nationalization (read: confiscation) of all private banks was announced.
At the same time, Allende is setting up his own system to impose the passive acceptance of these and other measures on Chileans. The system’s first element is terror. Workers’ strikes are announced. The government has granted amnesty to all agitators and terrorists arrested by order of Frei. A political super-police force is being organized to support the Marxist government.
The other element of the system is silence. In newspaper companies, unrest is growing over worker involvement in management, which essentially means newspapers and magazines will be handed over to unions controlled by Allende supporters. As a result, the Marxist president will dominate the entire press and silence his political opponents.
Amid all this, Cardinal Silva Henriquez stays cheerful. For his part—we say it with filial respect and concern—Paul VI continues to watch calmly as the tragedy unfolds.
These are clear and undeniable facts.
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Someone might ask, but what can Cardinal Silva Henriquez do? What about Paul VI? A wave of discontent is sweeping across the world. The masses are demanding reforms, and it’s impossible to ignore them. To protect democracy from the surge of violence, the Church must work effectively with the leaders fighting for the people’s emancipation. This wise approach should be executed through careful silence and timely concessions. Therefore, Paul VI and Cardinal Silva Henriquez have the right strategy.
I would respond, among other things, that defending the rights of the masses is definitely not the same as implementing communism. Just ask the unfortunate “volunteers” who cut sugar cane in Cuba. I should add that the masses are not influenced through concessions.
Francisco Luís da Silva Campos (1891-1968) was a controversial public figure, much like most public figures in some way. However, his achievements as an intellectual have always been unquestionable.
A few days ago, by pure chance, I received his booklet titled The Relevance of Don Quixote. There, I learned not only how this scholarly spirit felt the yearnings of the masses but also what he expected from the Head of Christendom for the salvation of democracy.
I believe he overemphasizes the importance of emotion and limits the pope’s role in worldly affairs by viewing him solely as a defender of democracy. Because of his position, the pope is the cornerstone, leader, and guide of something greater and deeply sacred—Christian civilization. Still, it’s hard to read Francisco Campos’ reflections without feeling how sincere, deep, and inspiring they are. I will let him speak for himself.
Ancient life was ceremonial; it followed a rite, an order, the rhythm of a broad and steady movement like the sway of the sea or the procession of nature’s cycles, seasons, or phases.
Ceremony has vanished from modern life, along with the sweeping waves of thought and emotion, the rhythm of waiting that, supported by the past, helped us leap over the present, uniting in a single experience the influences of the three times that make up human existence.
With the disappearance of ceremony, the rhythmic dance of the ages, each with its own measure or golden number, also fades away. Today, different eras are mixed, each feeling ashamed of itself, and it is common for some to adopt the measures, numbers, rhythms, swings, or steps of dances from other ages, whether past or future.
Where, then, can the emotional potential of today’s man, which is no less than that of yesterday’s man, be used? If not in the passivity of a spectator, where else? In movie theaters, stadium stands, political rallies, auditoriums for speeches and lectures—these settings only deepen their instability instead of easing their tension or emotions. They simply spark the start of movement, which is quickly suppressed in its early stages, heightening the feeling of frustration that often characterizes modern man. Lacking suitable outlets for releasing his emotional energy, it naturally spills over into “political agitation, the sinister masquerade of revolutions, the horrors of war, crime, literature, and the hermetic art of intellectuals.”
The illustrious Brazilian concludes that only a crusade can revitalize today’s world:
When I say crusade, I mean a true crusade. Not just programs, speeches, radio broadcasts, statistics, articles, and lectures. It may be a quixotic effort, but it must be a crusade filled with soul, devotion, sacrifice, courage, risk, and passion.
Finally, here is how he conceives this crusade:
The world calls for a crusade. Here is how I imagine this major upheaval or scandal that the world desperately needs could start. The pope would leave his gestatorial seat, accompanied by all orders, confraternities, and brotherhoods. Large crowds of pilgrims and penitents would follow.
It would be a grand procession with fitting statues, emblems, banners, and songs. Ceremonies, sacraments, and liturgical events would be celebrated through towns and cities where this new Christendom advanced. Most importantly, people would give sincere testimonies of sacrifice, humility, penance, mercy, and imitation of Christ. Their controlled emotions would find in greatness the freedom they seek. … The higher the ideal, the more it resonates with people’s hearts. …
Like Sancho abandoned by his master, today our world calls for Don Quixote’s return, feeling their lives would be meaningless without him. From all angles, under the most diverse names and contradictory appearances, Don Quixote’s return is what today’s man asks for, demands, and eagerly awaits.
* * *
Here, Don Quixote does not symbolize decadent, Don Juanesque, fatuous chivalry. He symbolizes chivalry at its best: lofty idealism, lion-like courage, and contempt for petty calculations of opportunity.
How different all of this is from the cold and dry triviality of Cardinal Silva Henriquez’s festive progressivism and Sancho Panza-like surrender. How different it is from the silent omission of the one whose name cannot be mentioned without the veneration and love owed to the Pope, Paul VI!
And how true it is that the Church can only move today’s crowds through the power of a spiritual crusade!