The wisdom of Nock

Inarguably the most iconic essay ever penned by Albert Jay Nock is Isaiah’s Job, written in 1936, when Nock himself was 66 years old.  In this essay he gifted the unknown and unknowable collection of individuals who are naturally drawn to the philosophy of liberty with a name: the Remnant.

The Remnant are those who by force of intellect are able to apprehend these principles, and by force of character are able, at least measurably, to cleave to them. The masses are those who are unable to do either.”

It’s considered a classic among libertarian circles, yet I know very few libertarian activists who have read it.  Which is a shame, because it effectively stiffens resolve where it might otherwise wane, when discouragement and a general going against the current becomes too much at times.  It’s message fortifies in a way that few other essays do.  Yes, there are people who are listening to you, taking your message to heart, even if they don’t acknowledge themselves.  They are drawn to the ideal of a free society, usually without knowing why.  Liberty glints and gleams like stainless steel in their dreams, and they look to you for guidance, for more.  And Nock’s entire point is that those who advocate for liberty should never dilute the message for the sake of mass acceptance.  Those with the force of character will listen, and then will rebuild society upon that foundation.  The masses eat up the popular messages of the day, and forget them just as quickly.  But there are those who move silently among us that are drawn to the philosophy of liberty like a compass arrow drawn to true north.  For their sake, Nock says, stay true to your message.

“The other certainty which the prophet of the Remnant may always have is that the Remnant will find him. He may rely on that with absolute assurance. They will find him without his doing anything about it; in fact, if he tries to do anything about it, he is pretty sure to put them off. He does not need to advertise for them nor resort to any schemes of publicity to get their attention. If he is a preacher or a public speaker, for example, he may be quite indifferent to going on show at receptions, getting his picture printed in the newspapers, or furnishing autobiographical material for publication on the side of “human interest.” If a writer, he need not make a point of attending any pink teas, autographing books at wholesale, nor entering into any specious freemasonry with reviewers. All this and much more of the same order lies in the regular and necessary routine laid down for the prophet of the masses; it is, and must be, part of the great general technique of getting the mass man’s ear — or as our vigorous and excellent publicist, Mr. H.L. Mencken, puts it, the technique of boob bumping. The prophet of the Remnant is not bound to this technique. He may be quite sure that the Remnant will make their own way to him without any adventitious aids; and not only so, but if they find him employing any such aids, as I said, it is ten to one that they will smell a rat in them and will sheer off.”

I’m fairly certain that this post will have only done Nock justice if it leads to one person clicking the link and reading the essay in its entirety.  I read it for the first time merely by chance six years ago, in the basement of a college library while waiting for what would later be known as the 2011 “super outbreak” storm to pass over.  Since then, I’ve read it probably ten times, and I find different insights that I hadn’t noticed before.  Nock’s writing has this effect.

Author: S. Smith