When high priests of America’s political right and left as articulate as William F. Buckley Jr., founding editor of National Review, and Anthony Lewis, a columnist for The New York Times Op-Ed page, peddle the same drug legalization line, it’s time to shout caveat emptor--let the buyer beware. For the boomlet to legalize drugs like heroin, cocaine and marijuana that they--and magazines like National Review and New York--are trying to seed among the right and left ends of the political spectrum, is founded in fiction, not fact. And it’s our children who could suffer long-lasting, permanent damage.

The political climate has changed dramatically in light of the Republican landslide in the fall elections and the Contract With America. But what astonishes me is not so much the content of the contract or the rhetoric of the debate, but the zeal and seeming joy with which social programs are being actually dismantled or put in line for their time on the block. This is coupled with the battle cry of "dismantle government," a return of the get-the-government-off-our-backs rhetoric of the late 1980's, all this dignified now by the rhetoric of devolution and states' rights. More dismaying than anything else, however, is the underlying theme of isolated individualism, a cry of "I've got mine, now you get yours." The Irish nationalist movement, for all its excesses, has at least recognized that the basis of reform is "Sinn Fein"--we ourselves. Our cry seems to be I myself. And we will be the worst for it.

When Pope John Paul II slipped in his bathtub on the evening of April 28, he fractured more than his right thighbone. The papal itinerary for the next several months was also pretty well shattered, and before it can be rescheduled many disappointed people will be obliged to revise their own travel plans.

From 1977 onward a significant number--perhaps 30,000--Episcopalians left the Episcopal Church/U.S.A. because it had begun to ordain women as priests; had changed or was changing radically on a variety of sexual-ethical issues, for instance, on abortion and on the indissolubility of Christian marriage, and had altered The Book of Common Prayer (B.C.P.) in ways that the departers perceived as falsifying certain Christian doctrines.

Graham Greene's The Comedians is surely the most famous novel set in contemporary Haiti. The book, published in 1965, introduced the English-speaking world to the methods of governance of président-a-vie Francois Duvalier. Following the novel's publication, both Greene and his book were banned in Haiti. Papa Doc was furious with the expose, certainly, but he was also vexed by the ethnographic detail of the novel. Trained as an anthropologist, the dictator knew that careful observers like Greene are always more difficult to discredit. Duvalier did his best, however, going so far as to produce a glossy bilingual pamphlet, Graham Greene Demasque, which depicted the writer as "unbalanced, sadistic, perverted ... the shame of proud and noble England." Although Greene would later term this assessment "the greatest honor I've yet received," Duvalier was not joking. The Comedians, travelers to Haiti were warned, was a book that even the luggage-rifling thugs at the airport could recognize.