George Orwell likely never said it, but he should have: “In a time of universal deceit — telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” Whatever its source, is there a popular dictum more apt for the state of things in 2019?
On a daily basis, twenty-first century society tees up circumstances fairly pounding the table for the facts; or some outbreak of commons sense or ground-level decency. All you would-be “revolutionaries”? Provide any of the above and you’re practically there!
Twenty-three-year-old actress Madeline Carroll was churning along nicely in the mid-2000s, landing “family-friendly roles” in film and television. Then she hit her teens and — no surprise — lascivious Hollywood decided the young starlet’s career trajectory needed to change. Performing opportunities became increasingly objectionable to Carroll who, as a Christian, had adopted the radical — revolutionary? — perspective that her work choices ought to please the One she claims to follow.
“I was going to be the … teenage girl that wanted to sleep with everybody in the school” she recently admitted to the National Religious Broadcasters. “[I]t was really devastating for me, because I had [gone] from so much happening to literally nothing happening.”
Her agents were miffed at her for declining these shots at money and fame, but her mother reaffirmed:
“It’s better, Madeline, to err on the ways of righteousness than err on the ways of the world.”
At age nineteen, a big screen part arrived — but nudity was required. She rejected the offer.
“You know, you’re crazy,” chided her agent. “if you don’t want to do nudity, I don’t know what to tell you. Because that’s literally all there is in this industry.”
An exaggeration from an exasperated handler, perhaps. Still, I’m reminded of reading somewhere that first-century Christians simply forswore any involvement in the theater of their day: sexual depravity flatly saturated every aspect of it.
“I laid it down before God and I let my dream die,” confessed the Los Angeles native. “And I truly didn’t think that I was ever gonna pick it back up again,”
Then, 2018 … another head-snapping reversal: Carroll won a major part in the religious-oriented film I Can Only Imagine. The movie opened in that week’s Top 5, wrapping it’s run with an imposing $83 million haul. She’s now collaborating on launch of a “new faith-based studio, Kingdom Studios”. “It’s time for Hollywood to wake up,” presses Carroll, “that there are people out there like me … that want to do something for His glory.”
Nice denouement to her personal drama — practically deserving silver
screen treatment. But before the inspiring third-reel of her story rolled, an ambitious young girl first had to refuse to go along with Tinsel Town’s status quo: No, I won’t disrobe in living color before audiences full of men so they can rush home and masturbate to my mental image. Not gonna be a part of that.
To libido-obsessed modern minds, them’s earthquaking words! And from a woman who pledged she wasn’t going to supinely go-along-to-get-along; at potentially disastrous professional cost. If the entertainment machine is hurtling toward the hot place, looks like it’s going to do so without Madeleine Carroll’s complicity.
Prospective revolutionaries, call your office.
Speaking of imperiling one’s career track: over the past three years upwards of eighteenintrepid souls have quit their positions with Britain’s National Health Service over concerns children are being misdiagnosed as transgender and administered harmful hormone treatments in the process. Each of these former NHS-employees were operating with teams tasked with determining whether kids as young as three should be prescribed puberty-blocking drugs, the effects of which are irreversible.
One staffer worried, “This experimental treatment is being done on not only children, but very vulnerable children.”
Carl Heneghan of Oxford University’s Centre of Evidence-based Medicine concurred, slamming the therapies as an “unregulated live experiment on children.”
These erstwhile NHS clinicians apparently arrived at the same conclusion — enough so that they determined to take attention-grabbing action.
In the span of a few dizzying years, transgender orthodoxy has become an inexorable steamroller before which nearly any cultural resistance, even mere reluctance, obsequiously yields. Count the “NHS Eighteen” as those comparatively few professionals modeling the courageous exception: they’ll no longer have a hand in medically trendy-but-ghoulish hazarding little one’s lives.
It’s the same noteworthy spirit driving a piece over at nationalreview.com where Graham Hillard lately admonished “Conservatives Shouldn’t Use Transgender Pronouns”.
“He”, “she” swapped out for “ze”, “zir”? Someone’s birth certificate specifying “male”, but collectively we’re obliged to fake he‘s “female”? And now humanity has to say grace not only over men’s and women’s willingly disfiguring their bodies, but over the disfigurement of language on behalf of their mental/emotional confusion, as well?
Hillard takes outspoken exception. “Renouncing” such balderdash “may come at a price,” he contends, “[but c]onservatives should pay it.”
While conceding transgender zaniness has become pandemic, he maintains sensible people “are to blame … if our conciliatory language impairs our ability to declare that this is wrong. It is not real. We have to stop it. … [I]f the central transgender assertion is a lie … then God forgive us if we utter a word in its favor.”
Hillard is candid about the risks involved:
To be sure, conservatives will pay a price for their stubbornness. … Jobs may be lost or friendships ruined. Our own children may one day condemn us. What is at stake, however, is the irreplaceable right to say of one thing, “true,” and of another, “false” — to define the basic realities from which our politics proceed. A man is a man. A woman is a woman. Let us not pretend otherwise.
If those embracing Judeo-Christian principles and valuing America’s founding ideals truly believe what we so snappily profess, how can we co-operate, even on the margins, with the demented, reality-disdaining forces assailing this age? Civilization-engulfing fecklessness impacts persons in the most jarringly practical ways: how they conduct themselves, the decisions they take. Civilization-preserving wisdom ought to inform our responses against the same.
Shrugging at the omnivorous fithifying of our culture, at LGBTQ depredations of troubled children or the common understanding of words isn’t an option, either. Hey, it’s just the way things are! is nothing less than a dodging-responsibility card for the culturally passive; the bleat of those complacently drifting along the Leftist-secularist lazy river swamping every front.
Meanwhile, nowadays, those enunciating unfashionable but society-preserving truths should, properly, be labelled revolutionaries. And those moving beyond what their mouths sell, actually walking out its implications? For them, Mr. Orwell, or whoever coined the original adage, should have formulated an even loftier encomium.