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Christopher Hitchens, perhaps the only man with the audacity to bring evidence of greed or corruption against Mother Theresa, has written a new book. Unless you’re a hardline societal watchdog, there’s a good chance you don’t know who Mr. Hitchens is. That he’s maybe the epitome of decisive, no-punches-pulled reporting on things like the aforementioned Mother Theresa, Henry Kissinger’s history and current stature as a war criminal, and race relations the world over, for right now, doesn’t matter. What Mr. Hitchens is, more than anything else, is a brilliant writer.
Hitchens, in his own nonfiction way, is much like Nelson Algren, or maybe even a bit like Joseph Heller—not schmaltzily funny, mind you—although with much more pure thought throughout than either of those two. His newest book, Letters to a Young Contrarian, is an approximation of his world view and his purposes, written as a series of letters to a student of sorts. The style is set to resemble Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, and the layout works perfectly, only once in a while slipping quite briefly into that supposed tone of humility that actually brags openly of the author. But it’s easy to forgive Hitchens, even if he couldn’t care less about our judgements—and trust me, he doesn’t care.
Hitchens’ book is really a long, poetic rallying cry for conscientious objection and arguing for the sake of arguing. It’s too easy to slip into excuses for why we forget or ignore these most important of our democratic responsibilities—especially at a time when Trusting God and Standing By Country are the mottos we’ve agreed to stand behind, even if the paper we print our flag decals on is mass manufactured from virgin lumber and is printed by slave labor in Indonesia. But Hitchens, while not forgiving us for ignoring these responsibilities, pries something even more potent from the argument: namely that we shouldn’t need anyone to call us on our lack of responsibility.
He makes clear from the start, and all throughout the book, that the position of dissenter or contrarian is neither popular nor bound to be received gladly by whatever power structure is in place. Hitchens isn’t stumping for everyone to take up arms about such ridiculous issues as the United States horrible health care system, or the problems inherent in campaign finance; that said, he wouldn’t have a problem with anyone who took up those causes. No, Hitchens, ever brilliant, tries desperately to stay away from specific fights he sees as needing more soldiers—if you don’t find, and then fight, your own war, you’re no better than any other bullied and brainwashed soldier: not really a place for a strong-minded dissenter, now is it?
The brilliance of this book is that, in treating how stupidities and atrocities are perpetuated by idiots and the greedy, Hitchens is actually, the whole time, discussing how to think clearly, how to stay engaged and not chase the bad people but the bad moves. In the words of Deep Throat from Bob Woodward’s Watergate reporting, "Follow the money". Hitchens, in the argumentative sense, is on the money’s track from start to finish.
He doesn’t damn anyone in his book, and it’s a credit that he doesn’t. His philosophy isn’t about wrath, fury, or vindication. He simply pleads for justice, and for a determined new constituency to come forward and take up the cause—any cause, as long as its clear and reasoned. Even with this, though, Hitchens has his caveats: this isn’t something anyone chooses to do, but something one chooses to be. Read the book. Read it in one night, spellbound and hopeful. Think of how you will choose, at every chance from now on, to do justice and integrity and yourself proud. Go to bed and get some rest. You’ll need it.
- Weston Cutter
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