It is clear that written argument and spoken discourse are potent in their own way. But some would argue that words are powerless to effect large-scale change unless supported by action—that ideas expressed through force are stronger than ideas manifested on paper. American independence was secured not by Jefferson’s pen in Philadelphia, but by Washington’s sword at Yorktown. The institution of slavery was defeated not by the Emancipation Proclamation, but by the Union army. Wars are the most obvious example, but one would be hard pressed to find any successful political or social movement that triumphed by the might of the pen alone. And are not some evils so repugnant as to require immediate action, even violent action, to bring about their downfall? Further, one could argue that our postmodern culture is particularly resistant to intellectual arguments, making the pen less formidable today than in previous eras.

This is all well and good. But if our society is intransigent, isn’t this ultimately an intellectual problem, which resists remedy by physical means? If the failure of our culture is a failure to recognize the connection between ideas and actions, which allows and even encourages dissonance between what we believe and what we do, then the sword will only serve as a tool for purposeless destruction in the hands of a blind reformer. How can the sword be effective unless its bearer is fighting for some fixed and certain truth, which he can communicate effectively?

Of particular interest is how we, the individual members of the Federalist Party, participate in the dichotomy between the pen and the sword. As students at Yale, we have an obligation to take up the pen—to devote ourselves to a pursuit of wisdom. But as conservatives and members of this Party, we know that the good life involves action as well as words, or else our debates are only banter, and we are mere sophisters. Does not our commitment to resist the errors of the age require a serious exercise of the body as well as the intellect?

The pen and the sword both have their merits, certainly. But when is the time for debate, and when is the time for action? Must violence (or intentional non-violence) be only a last resort after discourse has failed, or do they go hand-in-hand? Are there any causes so urgent as to make discourse impractical? Further, does the university have a responsibility to teach us not just which beliefs to hold, but how they should be manifested? If so, should we view our education as mere preparation for some eventual “battle,” or is the love of wisdom and truth a high enough calling on its own?