National Cheerleading Makes Sense for Some Cultures

Portrait of Gabriel Nicolas de La Reynie by Pierre Mignard (1670). (Source: Wikipedia.)

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Like many social-media junkies on the Right, I find it incredibly entertaining to read and respond to posts on Twitter/X written by grievance-mongering liberals or delusional Africanists if only because it gives me the opportunity to pounce on at least some of the half-baked idiocy that passes for thinking these days. These “ratios” are, if futile, quite satisfying nonetheless, at least as much for me as for the original shit-poster who banged out nonsense on his or her keyboard just because.

Occasionally, however, despite recoiling in disdain at some random example of the doltishness of my fellow man, I’m actually glad for the opportunity to set the record straight on a subject which, up until that moment, I was unaware even needed correction or clarification. On these occasions, the post in question expresses an opinion so outlandish and so intellectually anemic that nothing but a rebuttal in essay form will satisfy me, an activity I believe to be akin to using disinfectant in the hope that one can stay the spread of contagion.

Of course, the offender will remain immune to my “intervention.” The essay will most likely appear in a webzine firmly in line with the values the piece espouses, and so once again, I’ll be preaching to the choir — or as James Kirkpatrick recently put it, “screaming into the void . . . just scratching an emotional itch.”

The most recent instance of this was inspired by an individual engaged in African cheerleading — an activity full of sound and fury, yet signifying nothing if ever there was one. In an attempt to rebuke the French for their colonialist history of raiding Africa of its valuable treasures, this X-er posted a photo of France’s considerable gold reserves (allegedly looted from African goldmines) accompanied by the statement, “Without Africa, France would be a shit-hole.”

When I saw this, after emitting a loud and involuntary guffaw, I sputtered to the screen, au contraire, mon ami.

You can buy Greg Hood’s Waking Up From the American Dream here.

For the benefit of those whose firm (and correct) understanding of what constitutes a great culture has been shaken by relentless propaganda (which would, in the case of France, include even one of its presidents), let’s review a few reasons why this example is but one of the many imbecilic ravings of the culturally deprived and perennially envious.

I could, of course, begin with the most exquisite creations of the French imagination, such as couture, cuisine, and champagne, just to name three, but that might play into the hand of the ignorant philistines who associate culture — either its creation or acquisition — with material wealth. So I won’t go down that road despite the power that France wields over the entire world in dictating the very terms of glamour. (To remind yourself how much that is the case, go out and about for one day noting the number of times you encounter an image of the Eiffel Tower. That iconic symbol is used incessantly in advertising to effortlessly evoke France and its association with sophistication and good living. Simply put, it’s a glamour-fetish.)

Although despite the fact that couture at the highest level is created by men and women with fabric, needles, and thread in ateliers more realistically understood as crowded attics; despite the fact that champagne was an accident created by men living a monastic life; despite the fact that haute cuisine is only a matter of choices about what to do with the products of farm and garden; despite those humble origins for the products most associated with France’s reputation for sophistication, we’re going to ignore for the moment whatever it was that Julia Child was going on about and consider a single, humble example that shows why the French were innately capable of creating the world’s most exceptional culture and civilization, and most importantly, why it had nothing to do with the acquisition of gold from anywhere.

My decidedly unglamorous choice involves the implementation of a system of street lighting in seventeenth-century Paris, which came about because Louis the XIV was determined to make the city safer at night in order that business and entertainment could continue late into the evening.[1]

After several different experiments attended by varying degrees of success (including escorts who accompanied pedestrians or carriages with lit torches for a fee based on 15-minute intervals), the Sun King charged one man with the task of getting Paris lit. Once installed in his new position (a combination of Mayor and Chief of Police), Gabriel Nicolas de La Reynie decided that stationary lamps were preferable to those carried around by escorts. However, the (successful) system he created was complicated, cumbersome, and involved a lot of different people responsible for different tasks.

His solution was to have lanterns attached to designated houses, at least two per block, and to oblige their owners to be responsible for lighting them. This process, most likely carried out by a servant in the household, involved first lowering the lanterns by a pulley accessed by a lever located in a locked box to which only that household possessed the key. The candle wick was then trimmed or the candle replaced, after which the lantern was then raised back into place. These homeowners were also responsible for making sure that the lanterns were in good condition, for their glass panels would often be in need of repair or replacement.

What impresses me about this effort is not only the initial creativity revealed by La Reynie’s solution, but the degree of cooperation necessary to simply get the project off the ground, and then further, to maintain it. The lighting up of Paris was a city-wide endeavor which required a vast number of Parisians at all social levels to understand the goal and participate actively in its fulfillment. Even if you were a wealthy homeowner able to delegate the implementation of your designated responsibilities to servants, they had to be on their toes to make sure everything was maintained for the lighting system to work; otherwise, the home owner would be fined. (And occasionally they were.)

When the lanterns were lit on schedule on October 29, 1667, they numbered nearly 3,000, and this system, with all of its potential complications, lasted until 1818, when gas-lit street lamps became the norm.

Monumental endeavors like this one, such as cathedral- or shipbuilding, required a large number of talented, energetic people who at the same time were capable of coordinating their efforts as a group. The sheer numbers such projects require compels me to ask, especially in the light of the original Xer’s post that inspired this essay, where the resources were located that were necessary to accomplish these feats.

The answer is, of course: within the people themselves.

Jocelynn Cordes has collected 26 of her published essays in a volume titled Critical Musings from a Traditionalist.

Note

[1] The information concerning this particular brainchild of Louis XIV, as well as so many others, is detailed in a marvelous book by Joan E. DeJean titled The Essence of Style: How the French Invented High Fashion, Fine Food, Chic Cafes’ Style, Sophistication, and Glamour (New York: Free Press, 2005). I heartily recommend it, as it contains many intriguing details and fascinating accounts relating to the cultural development of seventeenth-century Europe.