Joseph Pearce, author of “Solzhenitsyn: A Soul in Exile”, joins Crisis Point to discuss the life of this 20th century giant, and the lessons we can learn from him in our current crisis. We get to the root of Solzhenitsyn’s life work, and include practical steps we can take today to follow in his footsteps.
Links:
• Solzhenitsyn: A Soul in Exile
• Joseph Pearce website
• “In a Nutshell” series
• Rebuilding Russia
• The Solzhenitsyn Reader
Why Mises Rejected Common Notions of "Progress"
Ludwig von Mises has some characteristically acute and important comments on the idea of progress in history, and in what follows, I’d like to address some of these. In the way he develops his views, one of the key themes of his notion of ethics plays an important role.
In contrast to those, like Herbert Spencer, who think that human history is progressive because it forms part of larger process of biological evolution, also viewed as progressive, Mises says that in biological evolution, what develops later is not “better,” or for that matter worse, than what has gone before. If natural selection results in one species’ supplanting another, that does not make the second species superior, even if it has traits that we prefer to those of the first. Mises puts the point in this way:
It was one of the shortcomings of nineteenth-century philosophies to have misinterpreted the meaning of cosmic change and to have smuggled into the theory of biological transformation the idea of progress. Looking backward from any given state of things to the states of the past one can fairly use the terms development and evolution in a neutral sense. Then evolution signifies the process which led from past conditions to the present. But one must guard against the fatal error of confusing change with improvement and evolution with evolution toward higher forms of life. Neither is it permissible to substitute a pseudoscientific anthropocentrism for the anthropocentrism of religion and the older metaphysical doctrines.
In what he says about evolution, Mises is in accord with the understanding of most modern biologists.
When Mises speaks of “pseudoscientific anthropocentrism,” what he means is that we human beings project our own importance to ourselves onto the process of evolution, so that we take ourselves to be the goal of history. But, he says, this is not part of science, which is purely descriptive.
As the argument stands so far, it contains a gap. From the fact that science is limited to describing and explaining change and cannot, within its own terms, properly speak of “improvements,” it does not follow that evolution has no goal. That would be true only if the standpoint of scientific description were the only way to assess what has occurred in the historical development of life or if no other way of assessment allowed room for a goal. In speaking of “goal” here, I have in mind a goal of the whole process, rather than the goals of individual persons. It is not part of descriptive science that such goals are precluded but only that they are not included within it.
Mises has anticipated this objection. He says: “The term progress is nonsensical when applied to cosmic events or to a comprehensive world view. We have no information about the plans of the prime mover.” I must say that Mises has given rather short shrift to claims of cosmic design, but to him his point was obvious, and one can see why he makes it. His fundamental aim in all his economic and social writing is to defend the system of social cooperation through the free market from all attacks against it. If people were to say that they have access to God’s plans for history, this might lead them to support interference with the free market, and it is Mises’s opinion that almost all those who did claim such direct access propose interfering with the market. For that reason, he opposes them. It doesn’t follow from this that Mises rejects religion, but to the extent he views it positively, it is religion that confines itself to individual salvation and avoids social doctrines that oppose the free market.
Mises takes aim also at another doctrine of progress. During the Enlightenment of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, many intellectuals thought that the growth of science and reason made progress inevitable. Mises rejects this view also, as it overestimates the influence of reason on human conduct. He says,
Eighteenth-century social philosophy was convinced that mankind has now finally entered the age of reason. While in the past theological and metaphysical errors were dominant, henceforth reason will be supreme. People will free themselves more and more from the chains of tradition and superstition and will dedicate all their efforts to the continuous improvement of social institutions. Every new generation will contribute its part to this glorious task. With the progress of time society will more and more become the society of free men, aiming at the greatest happiness of the greatest number. Temporary setbacks are, of course, not impossible. But finally the good cause will triumph because it is the cause of reason…. All these hopes were founded on the firm conviction, proper to the age, that the masses are both morally good and reasonable. The upper strata, the privileged aristocrats living on the fat of the land, were thought depraved. The common people, especially the peasants and the workers, were glorified in a romantic mood as noble and unerring in their judgment. Thus the philosophers were confident that democracy, government by the people, would bring about social perfection.
This prejudice was the fateful error of the humanitarians, the philosophers, and the liberals. Men are not infallible; they err very often. It is not true that the masses are always right and know the means for attaining the ends aimed at. ‘Belief in the common man’ is no better founded than was belief in the supernatural gifts of kings, priests, and noblemen.
You might think from all this that Mises has no use at all for the concept of progress, but that is not correct, and it is here that his view of ethics enters the scene. He thinks that ultimate ends cannot be rationally assessed. Nevertheless, almost everyone wants peace and material prosperity and these aims, we can show by strictly scientific, value-free argument, only the free market can achieve. To the extent that the free market is accepted, we can properly speak of progress; but we cannot say that the desirability of the market will lead to its general acceptance. That only time will tell.
In the foregoing, I have as usual confined myself to an account of Mises’s thought and have not sought to assess it critically.
Our rights as Americans can never be separated from our duties. But we must also ask, what is our liberty for?
We live in an age of determinism, especially when it comes to academics and academia. There’s little choice, it seems, and everything is driven by some autonomous and often abstract forces, progressively (often) and inalterably. In the late 19th century, it was biology (Darwin), economics (Marx), or sexual urges (Freud); in the first half of the twentieth century, it became ideology (socialism, communism, and capitalism); and, in the late twentieth century, it became race, class, and gender and, more recently, the environment.
While I would never deny that biology, economics, sexual urges, race, class, or gender or the environment do not influence us, I would rather argue that each does shape us and, at times, delimits us, but we are also free, moral agents. I would also argue that life is messy. Sometimes, we are rational and sometimes we are passionate. Sometimes, we are calculating and sometimes we are spontaneous. In short, I would say that we are—especially as individuals—incredibly complicated.
For nearly 3,000 years, we have asked and debated: what is the human person? What is the relationship of man to man; and what is God? Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Thomas Jefferson were all concerned with these questions.
What liberty allows, therefore, is moral agency; it is the willingness to take responsibility for one’s choices, for good and for ill. We must consider ourselves, importantly, morally capable and morally culpable.
Our rights, though can never be separated from our duties. But, we must also ask, what is our liberty for?
In his 1790/1791 lectures at the University of Pennsylvania, founding father James Wilson (one of the few to sign the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution and was also radically anti-slavery) asserted—with no taint of shyness—“Government, in my humble opinion, should be formed to secure and to enlarge the exercise of the natural rights of its members; and every government, which has not this in view, as its principal object, is not a government of the legitimate kind.”
The government best suited (but the most difficult to maintain) was a republic, a form that embodied and balanced the best of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. The republic means “the common good,” “the good thing,” “the public thing.” It reflected the natural law as well as the order of the soul.
Like most of the Founders, Wilson thought the right to property was the highest right—but, by property, he didn’t mean stuff. He meant self.
“Character may be considered as a species of property; but, of all, the nearest, the dearest, and the most interest. . . . By the exertion of the same talents and virtues, property and character both are often acquired: by vice and indolence, both are often lost or destroyed. The love of reputation and the fear of dishonour are, by the all-gracious Author of our existence, implanted in our breasts, for purposes the most beneficent and wise.”
Expressing a typical Revolutionary-era sentiment, Wilson continued. “As a man is justified in defending, so he is justified in retaking, his property, or his peculiar relations, when from him they are unjustly taken and detained.”
In attendance at these lectures was our first president, George Washington, who said, in his first inaugural:
I dwell on this prospect with every satisfaction which an ardent love for my Country can inspire: since there is no truth more thoroughly established, than that there exists in the economy and course of nature, an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness, between duty and advantage, between the genuine maxims of an honest and magnanimous policy, and the solid rewards of public prosperity and felicity: Since we ought to be no less persuaded that the propitious smiles of Heaven, can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right, which Heaven itself has ordained: And since the preservation of the sacred fire of liberty, and the destiny of the Republican model of Government, are justly considered as deeply, perhaps as finally staked, on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.
It’s worth repeating: there are no rights without duties. Cicero, the greatest of Roman republicans said it was our duties (not our rights) that defined us. Still, in the words of George Washington, there was a caution or two. Just what makes a people worthy of liberty and of republicanism? Can they sustain the balance of rights and duties; can they follow the eternal rules of right and order?
Most of the Founders were trepidatious about our prospects as a republic. One of the least remembered—but at the time, most interesting of the Founders—was Mercy Otis Warren, author of a three-volume history of the American Revolution, published in 1805.
Though the name of liberty delights the ear, and tickles the fond pride of man, it is a jewel much oftener the play-thing of his imagination, than a possession of real stability: it may be acquired to-day in all the triumph of independent feelings, but perhaps to-morrow the world may be convinced, that mankind know not how to make a proper use of the prize, generally bartered in a short time, as a useless bauble, to the first officious master that will take the burden from the mind, by laying another on the shoulders of ten-fold weight.
And,
If this should ever become the deplorable situation of the United States, let some unborn historian in a far distant day, detail the lapse, and hold up the contrast between a simple, virtuous, and free people, and a degenerate, servile race of beings, corrupted by wealth, effeminated by luxury, impoverished by licentiousness, and become the automatons of intoxicated ambition.
Here, Mercy Otis Warren sounds very much like Livy in his lamentation for the end of the Roman Republic:
To the following considerations, I wish every one seriously and earnestly to attend; by what kind of men, and by what sort of conduct, in peace and war, the empire has been both acquired and extended: then, as discipline gradually declined, let him follow in his thoughts the structure of ancient morals, at first, as it were, leaning aside, then sinking farther and farther, then beginning to fall precipitate, until he arrives at the present times, when our vices have attained to such a height of enormity, that we can no longer endure either the burden of them, or the sharpness of the necessary remedies.
Cicero, already mentioned, compared the republic to a painting.
Thus, before our own time, the customs of our ancestors produced excellent men, and eminent men preserved our ancient customs and the institutions of their forefathers. But, though the republic, when it came to us, was like a beautiful painting, whose colours, however, were already fading with age, our own time not only has neglected to freshen it by renewing the original colours, but has not even taken the trouble to preserve its configuration and, so to speak, its general outlines. For what is now left of the ‘ancient customs’ on which he said ‘the commonwealth of Rome’ was ‘founded firm.’? They have been, as we see, so completely buried in oblivion that they are not only no longer practiced, but are already unknown. And what shall I say of the men? For the loss of our customs is due to our lack of men, and for this great evil we must not only give an account, but must even defend ourselves in every way possible, as if we were accused of capital crime. For it through our own faults, not by any accident, that we retain only the form of the commonwealth, but have long since lost its substance.
These are words from roughly 50 B.C., but there’s no reason why one couldn’t state them in A.D. 2021.
The most important advocate of the American Revolution (and fiercest opponent of the French Revolution) was the grand Anglo-Irish statesman and philosopher, Edmund Burke. He, too, wrestled with rights and duties, with liberties and obligations.
Taking it for granted that I do not write to the disciples of the Parisian philosophy, I may assume, that the awful author of our being is the author of our place in the order of existence; and that having disposed and marshalled us by a divine tactick, not according to our will, but according to his, he has, in and by that disposition, virtually subjected us to act the part which belongs to the place assigned us. We have obligations to mankind at large, which are not in consequence of any special voluntary pact. *They arise from the relation of man to man, and the relation of man to God, which relations are not matters of choice. On the contrary, the force of all the pacts which we enter into with any particular person or number of persons amongst mankind, depends upon those prior obligations. In some cases the subordinate relations are voluntary, in others they are necessary—but the duties are all compulsive. . . .Dark and inscrutable are the ways by which we come into the world. The instincts which give rise to this mysterious process of nature are not of our making. But out of physical causes, unknown to us, perhaps unknowable, arise moral duties, which, as we are able perfectly to comprehend, we are bound indispensably to perform. . . . If the social ties and ligaments, spun out of those physical relations which are the elements of the commonwealth, in most cases begin, and always continue, independently of our will, so without any stipulation, on our part, are we bound by that relation called our country, which comprehends (as it has been well said) “all the charities of all.” 39 Nor are we left without powerful instincts to make this duty as dear and grateful to us, as it is awful and coercive. Our country is not a thing of mere physical locality. It consists, in a great measure, in the antient order into which we are born. We may have the same geographical situation, but another country; as we may have the same country in another soil. The place that determines our duty to our country is a social, civil relation.
While the American Revolution was one of the most extraordinary events in the history of the world, it did, rightly, have a context. And to do it and our Founders justice, it is just and right to consider it within the larger framework of Western civilization. The Founders, as a whole, were liberally-educated men, attending college at age 14, after proving fluency in Greek and Latin.
Editor’s Note: This is part one of a presentation that Dr. Birzer gave at Dakota State University in Madison, South Dakota, on October 21, 2021. The second essay may be found here. It was the inaugural lecture of the Forum on History and Ethics series. He would especially like to thank President Griffiths, Provost Hanson, Dean Kenley, Professors Justin Blessinger and Jody Bottum, and Jon Lauck.]
The Imaginative Conservative applies the principle of appreciation to the discussion of culture and politics—we approach dialogue with magnanimity rather than with mere civility. Will you help us remain a refreshing oasis in the increasingly contentious arena of modern discourse? Please consider donating now.
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The pandemic will end, and yet Covid-19 will remain in some form or other. Much of life will return to normal, except for those seeking the chimera of “zero-covid.” But what kinds of men and women will we have produced?
but if I must determine which of the two courses was the more successful in training, moulding, enlarging the mind, which sent out men the more fitted for their secular duties, which produced better public men, men of the world, men whose names would descend to posterity, I have no hesitation in giving the preference to that University which did nothing, over that which exacted of its members an acquaintance with every science under the sun. (Idea of a University, VI.9)The pandemic will end, and yet Covid-19 will remain in some form or other. Much of life will return to normal, except for those seeking the chimera of “zero-covid.” But what kinds of men and women will we have produced? We can get a good indication from the recent episode of a rude encounter New Yorkers used to take pride in. Frederick Joseph claimed to be on the receiving end of racially charged remarks by a woman on the street. He filmed the latter half of the encounter and put it online with the express intention of getting her fired from her job. It worked, of course, and he was pleased with the result.
See more here - Source: https://lawliberty.org/
La ampliación del plazo para abortar a las catorce semanas, la eutanasia... Las leyes sociales que van tomando forma lo revelan más que nunca: se impone una nueva moral. ¿Cómo explicarlo? Una civilización de dieciséis siglos, el cristianismo, está "agonizando", explica Chantal Delsol.
En La Fin de la chrétienté, la filósofa demuestra que la moral se está transformando por una inversión normativa similar a la que lanzaron los primeros cristianos. La trascendencia está desapareciendo, el paganismo está volviendo, otra idea del hombre está tomando forma... Un libro esclarecedor sobre el fin de una era que conduce a otro mundo, que algunos encontrarán escalofriante.
Anne-Laure Debaecker la ha entrevistado para Valeurs Actuelles:
-Según un sondeo de Ifop publicado el 23 de septiembre, el 51% de los franceses ya no creen en Dios. ¿Qué piensa usted?
-Es muy difícil hacer una encuesta sobre las creencias, que son íntimas y fluctúan. Sin embargo, podemos ver claramente la desaparición de las creencias cristianas en Occidente, y esto ha sido así desde hace ya varios siglos. Sin embargo, hoy en día la caída de las prácticas religiosas es significativa. Hemos entrado en una nueva era. Pero no nos vamos a convertir en ateos, todos los pueblos son religiosos y ninguno puede prescindir de las creencias, aunque no sean religiones constituidas.
»Muchos cristianos piensan que después de ellos llegará el nihilismo, la nada. Pero se equivocan. Ninguna cultura vive del nihilismo, no existe. En su estado natural, todas las sociedades humanas son "paganas", si se quiere politeístas, con múltiples creencias inmanentes. El monoteísmo (judío, cristiano) es la excepción, con un Dios único y trascendente. Cuando el monoteísmo se desvanece, la sociedad vuelve naturalmente a formas de paganismo, que nacen por sí solas, que son, si se me permite decirlo, el caldo primigenio. Ahí es donde estamos.
-¿Qué religión es cada vez más frecuente?
-La ecología, una forma de cosmoteísmo, es la principal religión de nuestro tiempo. Naturalmente, los graves problemas ecológicos que hoy nos preocupan son cuestiones científicas, basadas en datos científicos. Pero lo que ocurre es que esta ciencia da lugar a una religión ecológica, o se transforma en una religión ecológica. Es decir, se ve superada por creencias y miedos que la minan y la perjudican, e incluso cuestionan su veracidad. Hoy en día, la ecología funciona como una religión: tiene sus sumos sacerdotes y sus misas, su catecismo enseñado a los niños, su profetisa, sus excomuniones y anatemas.
»El mero hecho, por ejemplo, de que se prohíba hablar a los escépticos del clima demuestra que las creencias religiosas están ocupando el lugar del pensamiento científico. En principio, la ciencia no teme a sus oponentes: discute los argumentos, no lanza anatemas. Creo que la ecología se ha convertido en una religión para sustituir al cristianismo, que ha sido borrado. Es una forma de panteísmo, y la religión común hoy en día es el panteísmo, o el cosmoteísmo si se quiere: la gente abraza a los árboles o adora a las ballenas, los himnos a la Madre Tierra, etc.
»Nuestra contemporaneidad ha borrado por completo la trascendencia y adora este mundo. He puesto el ejemplo de la Carta a Diogneto, de los inicios del cristianismo, donde el autor anónimo le dice a Diogneto que los cristianos son en este mundo "extranjeros domiciliados", es decir, que los cristianos aspiran a otro mundo. Nuestros contemporáneos ya no quieren ser "extranjeros domiciliados", ya no quieren que esta tierra sea una "estancia" y el más allá la única "morada", quieren que esta tierra sea su "morada".
-¿Cómo define usted el cristianismo, que es el tema de su nuevo libro? ¿Cuál es su legado?
-La cristiandad es la civilización que tiene como fuente y fundamento el cristianismo o incluso el judeocristianismo, sin olvidar las antiguas influencias. Comenzó a finales del siglo IV con el reinado de Teodosio: la moral cristiana se impuso a todos y las leyes del Imperio se inspiraron directamente en los dogmas cristianos. Terminó en la segunda mitad del siglo XX, con las leyes de transformación social.
»Puede decirse que el cristianismo contribuyó a producir la Ilustración y fue destruido por ella, que es su hijo salvaje e indomable. No existe la Ilustración en otras culturas. Es un producto cristiano, que mata a un padre que se quedó demasiado antiguo. Actualmente nos encontramos en el despliegue exponencial, a menudo aberrante y utópico, del espíritu emancipador de la Ilustración.
Chantal Delsol (1947) es una de las más notables figuras de la intelectualidad francesa. Profesora emérita de la Universidad de Marne-la-Vallée y directora del Instituto de investigación Hannah Arendt, es miembro de la Academia de Ciencias Morales y Políticas y autora de varios libros. Colabora habitualmente en Le Figaro y Valeurs Actuelles. En España se ha publicado su ensayo Populismos. Una defensa de lo indefendible.
»El cristianismo nos inculcó la idea de una dirección en el tiempo, que se convirtió en progreso con la Ilustración, y estamos en proceso de volver al tiempo cíclico y apocalíptico (a los niños se les enseña el próximo apocalipsis en el jardín de infancia). El cristianismo nos inculcó una dignidad humana sustancial, y empezamos a pensar que los animales son tan dignos como los humanos. El cristianismo nos inculcó la idea platónica de la verdad, y estamos abusando de ella y volviendo, en muchos sentidos, a la era de los mitos.
-Su análisis se centra en el final de este cristianismo: ¿qué fue lo que marcó su fin hizo sonar su campana de muerte?
-Es una larga agonía que probablemente comenzó en el Renacimiento, alcanzó un punto de inflexión crítico en la época de la Ilustración y luego se ha confirmado en los dos últimos siglos.
-También señala usted que incluso el pensamiento cristiano ha ido renunciando al cristianismo: ¿cómo y por qué?
-Sí, es sorprendente ver hasta qué punto los propios cristianos, empezando por el clero, ya no están interesados en defender todo lo que significaba el cristianismo en términos de poder. La historia juega aquí un papel importante: en la primera mitad del siglo XX, el cristianismo intentó sobrevivir a través de regímenes fascistas corporativistas, que resultaron ser bárbaros.
»En general, los cristianos y sus clérigos son hijos de su tiempo: ya no queremos el dominio de la fuerza, ya no queremos conquistar, ni política ni religiosamente. Y hoy existe una vergüenza en la Iglesia por las conquistas cristianas históricas, al igual que existe una vergüenza en nuestras sociedades por las conquistas políticas históricas. Si le diijeras a una asamblea de obispos que el cristianismo ha muerto, creo que te responderían interiormente: "¡Que les vaya bien ¡Ya era hora!".
Chantal Delsol, en un debate radiofónico sobre la cuestión que aborda en su libro: el final de la Cristiandad y lo que va a sustituirla.
-Sobre el tema del rechazo a las leyes de influencia cristiana, usted menciona una inversión normativa, ¿de qué se trata?
-Es una inversión de las normas morales, que todos habrán notado. Durante un siglo, todo se ha invertido. Después de muchas aventuras, el divorcio ha pasado de estar prohibido a facilitarse. El aborto estaba penalizado, ahora está legitimado. También se legitima la homosexualidad. La Iglesia no ofrecía funerales a los suicidas, nosotros aspiramos ahora al suicidio asistido, que sin duda pronto se legitimará. La pena de muerte fue legitimada, es criminal. La tortura fue un último recurso parche, un daño colateral de la guerra: es un crimen. La pederastia también era un daño colateral: es un delito (¿próximamente imprescriptible?). Estas inversiones marcan el fin de las creencias subyacentes, que eran cristianas. Marcan la entrada en una nueva sociedad, con creencias diferentes.
-¿Por qué compara a los cristianos de los siglos XIX y XX con los paganos del siglo IV?
-Quería mostrar que en el siglo IV el cristianismo naciente realizó la misma inversión, pero en sentido contrario: por ejemplo, penalizó el infanticidio y la homosexualidad, y prohibió el divorcio. Lo que ocurre hoy no es una ruptura inédita. Ha habido otras. Siempre es el cambio de creencias el que lleva al cambio de leyes sobre la moral. Las reformas sociales actuales suponen una revisión: durante décadas, las leyes cristianas se aplicaron a mentes que ya no tienen las correspondientes creencias cristianas.
-¿Cómo podemos definir esta nueva moral que se está imponiendo?
-En algunos aspectos, retoma la moral evangélica, pero sin la trascendencia y de forma exponencial, porque ya no dispone de antropología y cree que todo es posible. Por ejemplo, la igualdad y la benevolencia se retoman y se desarrollan en exceso, sin tener en cuenta la realidad. Chesterton llamó a esto verdades cristianas enloquecidas. Varios autores (Scheler, Kolnai) han hablado de humanitarismo para describir esta moral originada en el cristianismo pero que se ha vuelto errática e ilimitada. No es humanismo, ya que el humanismo significa la primacía del hombre y nosotros ya no creemos en la primacía del hombre. La transformación del protestantismo en evangelio social en Norteamérica ha sido bien estudiada. Los vicios que eran la envidia, el orgullo, la intemperancia, se han convertido en: imperialismo, colonialismo, homofobia. Ahí hay una especie de transposición extravagante.
-¿Cómo podemos explicar el auge de las religiones asiáticas?
-Ninguna sociedad puede prescindir de la religión: el ser humano es una criatura demasiado consciente de su propia tragedia como para no imaginar misterios detrás de la puerta. Por eso, cuando tiene necesidad de religión (como es nuestro caso), va a buscarla a otra parte. Esto siempre ha sido así. Hoy, con el desvanecimiento de las religiones de nuestros padres, las espiritualidades asiáticas están en el momento adecuado para ofrecer a nuestros contemporáneos necesitados la ayuda que necesitan.
-¿Cuál es el lugar de los cristianos en nuestro mundo moderno? Encontrarse en una sociedad cuyas leyes y moral se desaprueban es tener la tentación de ceder al fatalismo y replegarse en su propio espacio... ¿Deben seguir manifestándose para expresar su oposición a las leyes sociales? ¿Deben tratar de hacer oír su voz, de luchar por un mundo que les parezca mejor?
-Sí, hablamos de exculturación: vivir en una sociedad cuya cultura no aprobamos. Esta es la eterna situación de la minoría, que no es fácil, que tiene sus leyes, su grandeza y sus miserias. Los católicos necesitan tomar algunas lecciones de los judíos y los protestantes. Pero esto no responde a la vocación misionera del cristianismo: creo que se es tanto o más misionero por ser testigo que por ser prosélito.
Traducción de Elena Faccia Serrano.
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