[T]he pansexual hedonists of the Netherlands are now in a panic over their nation’s Islamic future. Even the blasé Parisians have begun to wonder whether their nation’s bureaucratically atheist state is acid enough to dissolve the faith of burgeoning immigrants – before the Arabs outbreed, outvote, and expel the residual Frenchmen. The Germans who a generation ago worshiped their race as a pagan god now look on lackadaisically, and welcome the Turk into Europe. To read their children’s future, they may look to the fate of the Christians in Lebanon, or Kosovo – two other lands where the cradle has had its revenge.
Any healthy creature or culture shows two signs of life: It reproduces itself, and it fights off intruders. The West, for the past generation, has lacked the vigor to undertake either task. But each of us plays a part in this catastrophe – or its reversal. Just as we work to awaken our fellow citizens to an immigration policy which caters to the greed of stingy employers and the graft of politicians, so we can each do our part to win back the future. We can open ourselves to life, accept the myriad sacrifices entailed in parenthood, and embrace just one more child than we had hoped for. There’s a Catholic Web site which implores married to couples to do just this, entitled One More Soul. We needn’t (and shouldn’t) concern ourselves with convincing other peoples to reduce their child-bearing. Let’s mind our own business, and populate our own country.
Imagine that: If overnight, the native-born peoples of the U.S. increased their birth rate by 50 percent. Imagine if the same thing happened in Europe. The cries of immigration enthusiasts that we need to import our next generation from abroad would be drowned out –in the yawling and giggling of millions of native newborns. The backbreaking jobs we are currently pressing upon middle-aged foreigners would be taken up soon by teenagers – our own and our neighbors’ children. The immigrants among us would see a vigorous, vital culture – and wish to assimilate. Deprived of constant influxes from the Old Country, their offspring would intermarry with our own, and a little spice to our current stew – instead of filling up our emptying country like a vessel.
Since I love old Europe too, I hope that this generation can rouse itself to reject the invasion of an intolerant, alien faith – a truncated heresy of Christianity best suited to desert nomads – and deed its children a chance of rediscovering their heritage. Better Notre Dame remain unused for a few decades in an underpopulated Paris than be turned, like Hagia Sophia, into a mosque. We owe too much to Europe to slough it off like the shell of a hermit crab. The continent which gave us Charlemagne and Shakespeare, de Tocqueville and Vincent de Paul, deserves a second chance. Out of this filial piety to the cradle of our culture, I pray that the Turks once again will be turned back at its gates.
And I pray that Americans learn to love life once again – to love it rightly and truly, according to the rules its Author imposed. These rules He respected enough to obey them Himself: He was born of woman, poured out His strength in the service of others, and one day He died. The family he fathered with that blood, the Church, lives on in the normal way – by filling its empty cradle with a thriving Christian child.