Hooper?

In the early pages of Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh introduces a young British officer, Hooper, who serves the story less as a character than as a symbol: of the decline of Western man, of Christendom’s ideal, the death of the moral imagination.

"Hooper had no illusions about the Army - or rather no special illusions from the general, enveloping fog from which he observed the universe. He had come to it reluctantly, under compulsion, after he had made every feeble effort in his power to obtain deferment. He accepted it, he said 'like the measles'. Hooper was no romantic. He had not as a child ridden with Rupert's horse or sat among the camp fires at Xanthus-side; at the age when my eyes were dry to all save poetry - that stoic, redskin interlude which our schools introduce between the fast-flowing tears of the child and the man - Hooper had wept often, but never for Henry's speech on St Crispin's day, nor for the epitaph at Thermopylae. The history they taught him had few battles in it but, instead, a profusion of detail about humane legislation and recent industrial change. Gallipoli, Balaclava, Quebec, Lepanto, Bannockburn, Roncevales, and Marathon - these, and the Battle in the West where Arthur fell, and a hundred such names whose trumpet-notes, even now in my sere and lawless state, called to me irresistibly across the intervening years with all the clarity and strength of boyhood, sounded in vain to Hooper."

The Hooper Project, then, is a small effort to reverse this decline – as it is reversed in Brideshead – by holding up a candle to the “enveloping fog” of cultural illiteracy, setting some kindling beneath a vain popular culture, and, hopefully, igniting in some boys the moral imagination that teaches the best of men see, know, and love the good, the beautiful, and the true.

And that is where the Hooper Project gets its name.