Interesting article by Dr. Peter Kwasniewski on 1Peter5 about a young man torn between going to a diocesan seminary and being formed at a traditional one. Thoughts on the article from the folks here? https://onepeterfive.com/discerning-priesthood-forms/

“Red-pilled” Catholic men these days who are thinking seriously about priesthood or religious life are wondering if it makes any sense to enter a Novus Ordo seminary or community. Could God be calling them to be “infiltrators” who usher in a more traditional future? Or should they interpret their growing love for the old Latin Mass as a sign that God is asking them to take the more radical step of following an exclusively traditional path?
The following discussion was based on a real email exchange, which has been edited for compactness as well as to remove personal indicators. The name of my interlocutor is a nod to 1 Samuel 3. Also, please note that while this article’s title uses the language of “one form” and “two forms” as a convenient shorthand (in keeping with Benedict XVI’s legal terminology), it fully recognizes that there is only one authentic Roman rite, which currently coexists with a fabricated “modern papal rite.”

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Samuel: God may be calling me to serve Him as a priest — and I want to respond with a resounding yes, if that is His will. Initially, I just thought I should make inquiries with the vocations director of my diocese. But as I continue my discernment, I’m in a bind. I’ve been exposed to the Latin Mass, and this made all the difference to me. It put a fire into my spiritual life. I can see that this Mass, along with the different kind of Catholicism it represents, has to be a significant part of my life. So I want to discern in a serious way, but I’m stuck at the first step: should I go to my diocese and ask for admission to the seminary, or should I explore a religious order or community (I don’t know exactly what to call them) that uses the TLM? For my whole life I have looked up to St. John Vianney — even chose him for my confirmation saint — and I still really believe that diocesan priests like him can make a huge difference, and that we need to have good ones coming into the parishes so we can reach the vast majority of Catholics where they’re at.
Dr. K: You are right. We need good diocesan priests, and they will someday be in charge; they will not always suffer under the thumb of the Generation That Doesn’t Get It. This middle-aged bureaucracy, lording it over us now, will soon be senile, and the clergy next in line will have their day. If you decided to go this route, the key would be to enter seminary in a diocese that not only has a genuinely Catholic bishop at its head, preferably a good number of years away from retirement, but also has been nurturing a lot of Ratzingerian clergy for quite a while. Then, if the terrible day arrives when Francis or Francis II puts a modernist in his place, there will be a support network of like-minded clergy who will not be easily suppressed. It’s far from ideal, but then again, neither is any particular monastery or religious order or society of apostolic life. In any state of life, one is making a radical entrustment of oneself to another, be it a spouse, a superior, or a bishop.
Samuel: I was speaking to a diocesan priest friend about this matter a few weeks ago. He just retired from being pastor of a rare diocesan parish that celebrated the old rite (he called it the “real rite”). I brought up what I took your argument to be: the Ratzinger Generation will have its day, and then its adherents can make tradition prevail. He disagreed, saying: “Consider what habits the so-called Ratzinger Generation will have to cultivate for their initial years serving in parishes. They will spend their young priesthood compromising and making concessions with what they know to be wrong, hiding their spirituality even though it is meant to shine, living an isolated and fearful intellectual life — and acting in such a way more to please men than to please God. These habits will affect every aspect of their priesthood, from the way they celebrate Mass to the advice they give in the confessional. And the habits will become ingrained. Do you think these habits will serve them well in their mature years? Do you think they will suddenly be able to divest themselves of such habits once they turn, say, 50? That would be asking a great deal from human nature — more, I think, than it can give. In my opinion, the system wears down commitment to principles as it prepares the next generation of bureaucrats who live off the status quo.”
Dr. K: Your friend is more straight-talking than most. As sobering as that sounds, I’m afraid it’s a pretty convincing portrait. I guess that’s the death of my argument! Unless one wants to take the very existence of your friend as evidence that not everyone is corrupted by the system…
Samuel: He continued: “In addition, no one may do something bad for the sake of something good. This is consequentialist ethics, and there’s a flavor of consequentialism in the generational argument. That is why I do not accept it.”
Dr. K: Do you think he might be right?
Samuel: What he says makes sense to me. And there are obvious liturgical implications…
Dr. K: Yes. One of the realizations that pushed me all the way over to tradition was when I came to see how easily the Novus Ordo is held captive by its overlords. The traditional Latin Mass  —  and this is true of the entire preconciliar liturgy  —  is governed by a tried and true centuries-old set of protocols that are not likely to be changed any time soon (and if an attempt was made, I think we’d have a minor revolution on our hands). The Novus Ordo is flexible, adaptable, full of options — and that means manipulable by those in command. In other words, even with the best intentions in the world, a lowly parish vicar will have to do — or at least, not contradict — his pastor’s and his bishop’s will in regard to how to “do” the Novus Ordo. Put simply: The road to a beautiful and reverent celebration of the Novus Ordo is steep and narrow, while the road to an abusive ego-pleasing celebration of it is broad and easy. This is what shreds the nerves of some young clergy: the conflict between their innermost desires and the institutional mediocrity, narcissism, and corruption that surrounds them.
Samuel: In that case, it seems the diocesan route is extremely risky. I mean, more risky than a vocation ought to be, if things in the Church were not so chaotic.
Dr. K: Then we have to move to the next logical question. Why would you not try your vocation with a traditional community? If you already see the goodness, even the superiority, of the TLM, then it’s something you yourself should have regular access to, for your own spiritual benefit — and, if God makes you a priest, it’s something you should share with the faithful, for their spiritual benefit.
Samuel: It’s a fair question. For one thing, my parents are not too keen on the old Mass. They see that young people are going to it, and they’re happy that I’m practicing my faith, but I think they find it all a bit “fringe.” Why would you go out of the normal, mainstream Church world? Anyway, I do love the E.F., but I don’t see myself entering a traditional monastery, or joining the Fraternity or the Institute.
Dr. K: But let’s say your parents would resign themselves to your decision, or maybe even be won over to it in the long run. What’s your hesitation?
Samuel: While I greatly respect the work of groups like the Institute and the Fraternity, I guess I’m just nervous about the phenomenon of people completely abandoning their regular parishes and attaching themselves to special parishes and oratories. It’s like a parallel universe. I don’t think it’s healthy to have a bunch of traditional Catholics in one place, while the other parishes are sort of abandoned to decay.
Dr. K: I disagree. In my view, we need these all-traditional parishes or chapels or oratories more than ever. Man is a social and political animal, so he seeks to band together with others from whom he will receive support, encouragement, strength, guidance. Living in society is meant to bring us blessings, not simply aches and pains. When I see a flourishing Fraternity or Institute parish, I see a powerful cell of renewal in the midst of a body racked with cancer. Such a parish multiplies its inherent good by first concentrating it and then diffusing it like a fragrance that attracts others in search of an integrally Catholic life. It may seem a severe mercy to let other parishes wither on the vine, but it is not as if we are wishing actively that they wither. The worst thing for us would be to wither along with them, out of a misplaced Simone Weil-like wish to “suffer in solidarity.” As St. Thomas explains, the first duty of charity is to love oneself, to love the good of one’s own soul by doing all that one can to achieve union with the supreme Good. Our union will always be imperfect in this life, but we are not permitted to positively seek out imperfection. It can only be tolerated when it cannot be removed or avoided ...