bold vision and coruscating brilliancencapable of dazzling and inspiring anwhole generation of young Americans.nBut at the risk of dampening the jubilationnthat swirls about this book as itnmakes its rounds in conservative circles,nI must raise an objection or two,nif for no other reason than to help Mr.nGilder keep his feet firmly planted innreality as he reads the laudatory clippingsnthat pour in from conservative magazines.nThis matter of altruism presentsnproblems. Man’s motivations and impulsesnform a tangled skein all but impossiblento unravel. This makes it extremelyndifficult to discern the genuinelynaltruistic act. I do not wish to soundnlike a hardened cynic, but it seems tonme that altruism is a scarce commodity.nOther than Mother Teresa of Calcuttanor a woman’s devotion to her child, I amnhard pressed for examples. But Gildernneeds to see the entrepreneur’s actionsnas altruistic, for this forms an essentialnpart of the moral foundation of capitalism.nGilder admits that the entrepreneurnstrives for rewards in the form of financialngain. That does not trouble me,nfor, as Gilder shows, the entrepreneur’snactions benefit society. But that is notnaltruism. The entrepreneur expects anreturn, even though he knows it maynnot come. But then the socialistnideologue expects a return also, in thenform of power over the lives of others.nMan’s fallen nature precludes the existencenof much genuine altruism, so whynnot accept the fact that where politicsnand economics rise to the fore one findsnself-interested men at work? Freedomn—not altruism—is the great metaphysicalnblessing of capitalism.nGilder quotes approvingly JosephnSchumpeter’s contention that “creativendestruction is the essential fact aboutncapitalism,” and Gilder adds: “creativendestruction is always the essence ofngrowth.” Capitalism, then, looks to thenfuture, seeks to shake off the dead handnof the past; socialism, by contrast, embodiesnthe reactionary mentality at itsnworst. Now, just what does this “crea­nZnChronicles of Culturentive destruction” destroy.’ Presumablynthe very things that traditionalist conservativesnfrom Edmund Burke to thenpresent have cherished, most notably annorganic, stable social order that changesnthrough gradual accretion. For traditionalists,n”creative destruction” callsnto mind the terrible simplifiers of thenpast—the Cromwells, the Robespierres,nthe Lenins—who thought that the justnand good society would emerge onlynfrom the ruins of the old order.nA merican traditionalists—especiallynsince the late 19th century—have facedna debilitating paradox: to preserve traditionnin a land given over to change, innovationnand progress. George Gilder’sn”creative destruction” has not madentheir lot any easier. Large parts of thenrural South preserved their traditionalnmores until well into the 20th century.nThe rhythms of rural life remainednmore akin to the ways of a distant pastnthan to the dictates of a modern urban,nindustrial order. And though the Southernncountryman could not divorce himselfncompletely from the currents ofnmodernity, he knew in his heart ofnhearts that, as Andrew Lytle wrote inn1930, “A farm is not a place to grownwealthy; it is a place to grow corn.”nTechnology, industrialization and thenforces unleashed by capitalism havennnlargely destroyed this world. I acceptnthat fact—after all, I have no choice—nbut I adamantly refuse to celebrate thendeath of that world, as George Gildernprobably would.nWe cannot choose this older societynabove one based upon capitalism; rather,nthe choice lies between the social andneconomic system that exists at presentnin America and the socialist vision of anplanned, egalitarian order. I go withnGeorge Gilder on this. Yet I can nevernbe Gilder’s man of the future; I amnrooted in the past, and I live uneasilynin Gilder’s world. I admire his love ofnfreedom, his appreciation of the need fornrisk and adventure, his desire to expandnthe considerable blessings of prosperitynto all Americans; but I shall stand justnbehind him, tugging at his sleeve andnwhispering: “Tradition, George, tradition;nthe past does matter; we neednmore than to hurl ourselves into a futurenof risk, innovation and change.”nI fear something else, though, farnmore than the consequences of Gilder’sndisdain for the past. In the hands of lessnintellectually sophisticated peoplenGilder’s spirited defense of entreprenneurship and supply-side economics mayninspire a utopianism potentially as dangerousnas that promoted by men of thenleft. Some conservatives seem intent onnseizing upon supply-side economics asna panacea that will solve all of our problemsnand lead us into a land of milk andnhoney. The analytical tools of the economicntheorist — be he Marxian, Key nesiannor supply-sider—cannot touch thendeepestsourcesof America’s travail.nRenewed prosperity alone will not bringnAmerica to glory, nor will it release usnfrom the age-old and ineluctable frailtiesnof mankind. Life remains tragic, andneconomic growth will not mitigate thatntragedy. To his credit, George Gildernunderstands this, but do those whonmouth the catchwords of a resurgentnconservatism comprehend this elementalnfact?nWhatever the shortcomings of Gilder’snmessage. Wealth and Poverty hasnappeared at an auspicious moment inn