In a world where the Left is busy handing out politically correct pamphlets titled “How to Remove Joy from Your Life,” let’s take a moment to discuss a more classical matter that offers a hint of conservatism at its core. We’re talking about Charles Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol.” Yes, that delightful tale where a miserly old man learns the merit of goodwill and generosity in three very supernatural, ghost-filled acts. If Dickens were alive today, he’d probably be accused of cultural appropriation for wishing English Christmas would always be white—a dream that apparently snowed its way into our imaginations simply because it snowed at Christmas during the winter of 1814-1815, and the first eight years of his life.
Dickens was no stranger to hardship. His experiences were not carefully curated Instagram highlights of avocado toast but rather the gritty reality of factory work to help his family. The sacrifice and hard labor clearly baked into his narrative like a plum into a pudding are precisely what gave us the tale of Ebenezer Scrooge. Scrooge starts off epitomizing the cringe-inducing cheapskate, using the existence of government welfare as an excuse to clutch tightly onto his coin purse. For a man as covetous as Scrooge to transform into a paragon of generosity without losing a dime to government-mandated ‘generosity,’ well, that’s a story worth revisiting!
Still, let’s set aside the heartwarming end and look at why Scrooge’s initial stance fits the modern fiscal critiques beautifully. When myopic agenda pushers clamor for entitlements as if they were confetti at the leftist parade, they forget one crucial facet: genuine human charity. Dickens doesn’t sign Scrooge up for a state welfare program; he doesn’t have him champion the social safety net. Instead, he shows a man changed, embracing personal accountability for the well-being of those around him—a concept that today’s liberals could stand to re-read.
It’s fascinating to see how Dickens wrapped this profound, personal transformation in a literary quilt of festive prose and memorable characters. He didn’t need a landslide of negativity or sensational shock to engage his readers—just a tale about humanity at its best and worst, with a sprinkle of supernatural repartee. Today’s cultural arbiters could likely dismiss such light because it lacks intellectual disillusionment, yet Dickens remains evergreen. Perhaps that’s why Dickens’s characters are etched into our societal lexicon; a “Scrooge” and the exclamation “bah, humbug” remain shorthand for miserly foes as surely as if they were lifted straight from a satirical Twitter rant.
“A Christmas Carol,” regardless of its many reimaginings, stands as a tale that resonates with the conservative underpinnings of personal responsibility and heartfelt contributions to community welfare. At a time when it feels like our cultural traditions are under siege by those waving the banner of bland, politically-correct sameness, Dickens reminds us that light is deeper than darkness and that joy, humor, and humanity are the true intellectual veins we should mine in literature—and in life!
