"I profoundly believe it takes a lot of practice to become a moral slob"
About this Quote
There is a deliciously patrician sting in Buckley’s claim that you have to practice to become a "moral slob". The line flips a comforting assumption: that ethical decay is just laziness, a drift into bad habits. Buckley suggests the opposite. To live shamelessly, you often need discipline - not the admirable kind, but the steady training of the conscience to stop flinching. "Profoundly believe" heightens the irony: he adopts the solemn cadence of moral philosophy to diagnose the mechanics of moral surrender, as if he’s issuing a theorem about human self-deception.
The phrase "moral slob" does cultural work. It imports a class-coded, domestic insult - the messy person, the one who can’t keep things together - and applies it to the inner life. Buckley, the high-style conservative editor who made argument sound like sport, is policing not just actions but the aesthetics of character: slovenliness as spiritual failure. It’s also a jab at modern permissiveness. By the mid-to-late 20th century, the American elite debate wasn’t only about policy; it was about whether guilt itself was an outdated technology. Buckley implies that you don’t shed guilt by enlightenment; you shed it by repetition.
Subtext: moral collapse is rarely an accident. It’s a skill you acquire by rationalizing, minimizing, and surrounding yourself with people who call your vices "authenticity". Buckley’s intent isn’t merely to scold; it’s to warn that vice can be industrious, even ambitious - and that the most dangerous sins are the ones you rehearse until they feel like normal life.
The phrase "moral slob" does cultural work. It imports a class-coded, domestic insult - the messy person, the one who can’t keep things together - and applies it to the inner life. Buckley, the high-style conservative editor who made argument sound like sport, is policing not just actions but the aesthetics of character: slovenliness as spiritual failure. It’s also a jab at modern permissiveness. By the mid-to-late 20th century, the American elite debate wasn’t only about policy; it was about whether guilt itself was an outdated technology. Buckley implies that you don’t shed guilt by enlightenment; you shed it by repetition.
Subtext: moral collapse is rarely an accident. It’s a skill you acquire by rationalizing, minimizing, and surrounding yourself with people who call your vices "authenticity". Buckley’s intent isn’t merely to scold; it’s to warn that vice can be industrious, even ambitious - and that the most dangerous sins are the ones you rehearse until they feel like normal life.
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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