What do you think of the Catholic movement called integralism?
You won’t like this, because if you frame the question that way, I can’t answer it.
Integralism is supposed to be an opinion concerning the proper role of the Church vis-à-vis the state. But it is also said to mean the rejection of certain other isms, the embrace of something called the “throne and altar” view, and lots of other things, and the various definitions are not consistent.
The most important thing I can say to people on all sides of these debates is that we need to argue more carefully. It is extraordinarily difficult to state precisely either what either integralists are for, or what their opponents are against, because crucial distinctions are so often overlooked – almost always by non-Christian scholars, but often by Christian scholars too, both Protestant and Catholic.
For example, concerning the status of the Church in the modern state, it is one thing to ask whether it would be good for the state, while protecting religious liberty, to recognize in some sense the divine mission of the Church (yes), but quite another to ask whether under all circumstances the Church must seek such recognition (no).
Concerning the use of law, it is one thing to ask whether the law may be used to force persons into the faith (no), but quite another to ask whether the law may be an instrument of friendly cooperation with it (yes).
For that matter, the very phrase “recognition of the divine mission of the Church” may mean different things. Are we speaking of declaring Christmas a national holiday, inventing a new national holiday called Thanksgiving, inscribing a cross on the coinage, requiring that the Decalogue be taught in public schools, requiring that its divine origin be taught along with it, forbidding blasphemy, or what? These are very different kinds of things.
The same goes for terms such as “coercion.” All law coerces, but not in the same way. Are we thinking of making people do something, forbidding them from doing something, telling them that if they do it then they must do it in a certain way, commanding public officials not to forbid people from doing it, or something else?
We sometimes try to cut these knots by saying “I just believe in separation of Church and state,” but people mean different things by separation too. Does it mean that citizens should not consider their faith when they vote? (Bad.) That the state should not subject candidates for public office to a religious test? (Good.) That firemen may not put out fires in churches? (Bad.) That the state may not tell the Church what to teach? (Good.) That the Church may not condemn evil and unjust laws? (Bad.) That priests are not magistrates? (Good.) That magistrates are not priests? (Good.)
Sometimes the use of “ism” words is unavoidable – I use them myself -- but in a case like this one, I try to avoid them. Instead of expressing an opinion about integralism – a term which means too many different things -- I prefer to say “Here is what I think about the proposition that ....”
Currently, I am preaching through Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I find myself at the tail end of the “household code” in chapters 5 and 6, which teaches the duties of husbands and wives, children and parents, and slaves and masters. I have arrived at slaves and masters.
My congregation may be described as a typical small American church with no slaves or masters in sight and a strong belief that slavery is a great moral evil. I want to listen to the text on its own ancient terms. I particularly like the notion of Joseph Capizzi, who wrote that in the mind of the apostle “slaves and masters are judged by their behavior, not their status.” Such a thought is radically countercultural today, of course, and I would like to go deeper in my understanding of it.
Do you think it is possible to be faithful to the text of Ephesians -- which clearly does not take an abolitionist approach -- while also showing rationally that Paul’s ethics are both in harmony with those of Jesus, and acceptable to the dictates of a well-formed conscience? Any help would be much appreciated.
I notice that St. Thomas regulates slavery virtually out of existence, in much the same way that we would like to be able to regulate abortionists out of existence. I also read Aristotle as implying that slavery could be morally permissible only if slave and master were friends – but I cannot imagine how they ever could be.
You are surely right about the household codes. Their precedent was the Stoic household codes, which were addressed to persons of higher rank and merely mentioned persons of lower rank. However, the New Testament household codes are radically different. In the first place, they not only mention persons of lower rank, but address them personally. Moreover, New Testament codes always list social roles in pairs -- husband and wife, parent and child, master and slave. Although the duties in each pair are not identical, nevertheless they are reciprocal, based on the love of each person for the other member of the pair. Nothing like this appears in Stoic teaching, where the main concern is not that I make myself a servant, as Christ did, but that I maintain the dignity of my position.
St. Paul’s letter to Philemon is very much in line with the New Testament household codes, because Philemon and his runaway servant Onesimus are now expected to view themselves as brothers. Although Paul doesn’t place Philemon under command, it would be difficult for Philemon to read the letter without concluding that he should manumit Onesimus. Tradition holds that this is the same Onesimus who later became a bishop and a saint.
I can imagine a sort of friendship between a master and a bondservant. Homer depicts deep mutual faith between the returning Odysseus and his old bondservants, the shepherd Eumaos and his aged nurse Eurkyleia. She is the first to recognize him when he returns to his home incognito; the scene is portrayed in today’s image. I don’t think this touching mutuality was intended as fantasy, but as something the possibility of which Homer’s listeners would have recognized. We also see that in European history, vassals sworn to give their lives to protect their royal master were sometimes called his “Companions.” That is how they were regarded, and that is how they regarded themselves. It was considered a privilege to be able to say to one’s lord, “Command me!” And this ought to be our attitude toward God.
What else can I say? Not much, I’m afraid. But I do have a few small reflections.
As we know, people prattle about how the Bible “condones slavery.” But “condones” is a sneaky word. The Bible “condones” slavery only in the way it “condones” revenge. We have to view even divine law in a developmental context, because the Old Testament law was not just law, but also pedagogy. The people were not yet ready to be told that they should not take revenge or hold slaves. Yet wherever possible, Torah moderated such practices. Revenge was limited to equivalent damages. Slaves were to be freed in jubilee years, and this is but one of the many restrictions on bondservice.
In the same way, the Fathers of the Church thought that when Jesus explained that Moses permitted the Israelites to divorce their wives “because of the hardness of their hearts,” he meant that if they had not been permitted to divorce them, they would have killed them. Perhaps slavery should be viewed that way too. If the Israelites had not been permitted, say, to makes regulated slaves of those taken in war, they might have practiced barbaric cruelties upon them and then cut their throats.
This must be the sort of thing St. Thomas Aquinas has in mind when he argues that the law must lead people to virtue gradually rather than all at once, lest they break out into even graver evils. Quoting from Proverbs, he reminds us that “He who bloweth his nose violently bringeth forth blood.”
We also forget today that ancient slavery was not all one thing. Being a slave in the mines must have been very like being in hell. On the other hand, some ancient slaves occupied such positions as secretaries, tutors, and estate managers. Negotiated hostages, kept by both sides to guarantee adherence to treaties, were not slaves, but they were not free to leave either.
In our own day too, we need to make distinctions among various kinds of bound service. Draftees are in a condition of indentured servitude. For that matter, so are those who voluntarily enlist, and those who sign contracts with private employers committing them not to change jobs within a specified period of time. Convicted criminals who are compelled to perform labor are in penal servitude.
I suspect that much of our difficulty in accepting what the New Testament says and doesn’t say about slavery arises not from our being morally elevated, but from our not being elevated enough. We quickly judge the sins of other times, such as slaveholding, but not the sins of our own time, such as abortion and exploitive sexuality. We do not really believe that one can be inwardly free regardless of his legal or exterior condition. Even the Stoics knew that this was possible; it is shameful to think that we Christians, who ought to know better, cannot even rise to the Stoic level in this respect. And although nothing is more common than to give lip service to carrying our crosses, we do not want to believe that submitting to suffering really conforms us to Christ. When we read the passage in which St. Peter encourages those who are treated unjustly to be patient, we are likely to think he is “blaming the victim” – which rather misses the point.
See the website maintenance notice at the end of this post!
According to the so-called harm principle, most actions that cause no harm to others should be permitted by law. This may be true, if we don’t take it as a definition of morality. But even if it is only about the law, it settles fewer questions than one might think.
I pointed out in a previous post that the harm principle is ancient. Contrary to popular belief, it was not invented by John Stuart Mill. He invented only a particular brand of the principle, according to which almost nothing counts as harm.
In Mill’s view, harm to which a person consents is not harm; destroying one’s abilities to fulfill his duties to others is not harm; seduction to evil is not harm; and so on.
Today we see that those who are wrapped up in racial and sexual identity politics have their own brand of the Harm Principle, one according to which a great many things count as harm.
In their view, having their feelings hurt is harm; having their identities questioned is harm; having to take notice that others disagree with them is harm; and so on.
We might call Mill’s brand the “get out of my space” harm principle, and the identity politics brand “don’t tread on my snowflake” harm principle.
Sometimes people imagine that if only we follow the harm principle, we don’t need an agreed-upon standard of morality. Actually, without an agreed-upon standard of morality, we can’t agree about which brand of the harm principle to use either. The brand we deploy becomes a stalking horse for deeper moral views – often not openly expressed -- which tell us what harm is.
This is why protests about the violation of free speech get so little traction in the public square. No matter how repressive one is, one can always define harm in such a way as to paint the other fellow as the true enemy of liberty. I’m not harming him. He’s harming me!
As you may have noticed, The Underground Thomist is undergoing some maintenance and repairs. Consequently, from time to time during the next few weeks, you may have trouble reaching it, or it may look a little odd (for example, an image may be missing, or a line of computer code may appear at the top of the screen). If this happens, just keep trying, and eventually the site will return to its normal condition.
All this will pass. I am grateful for your patience and your interest.
Some time ago, I debated my brother on the issue of reason. He argued that reason is not important. All that matters is that I do the things that I like and that I get good results, no matter the method. How do I even engage with people who deny the point of reason?
Related to that, for most of my young adulthood, I was tempted by my family to drive without a license. I found that immoral because it was disobeying a legitimate law, but my family kept arguing that many people drive without a license and do just fine. I couldn't really defend myself against this. In fact, they think that if a multitude of people do well without obeying the law, then it is okay, and they will defend this fallacy stating that what matters most is that it is effective.
How do I defend myself from these sorts of statements?
Your brother obviously wants to have a good life. That’s not bad, it’s good. The problem, to paraphrase the philosopher Mortimer Adler, is that he thinks having a good life is the same as having a good time. If it is put to them this way, most people can see that it isn't. We can do all the things we like and still be unhappy. For example, the drunkard is doing the thing that he likes – getting drunk – but he is ruining his life, not enhancing it. The unfaithful husband is doing the thing that he likes – sleeping with other women – but he is very likely to ruin not only his life but also his wife’s and children’s, and he isn’t doing those other women any favors either.
One way to get started on this sort of conversation is to ask which things it is good to like doing. Which ones add up to a good life, and which ones don’t? Your brother may say that reason is not important, but in saying that, he is already reasoning. He is giving you a reason to believe that there is no need to give reasons. The problem is that he is not reasoning very far.
By the way, if he did reason far enough, he would discover not only that there is a difference between having a good life and having a good time, but also that having a good life includes finding out what is really true -- what everything is really all about.
Now about driving without a license. Just as with your brother’s statement about doing what he likes, so with your family’s statements about driving, the issue isn’t reasoning, but reasoning badly. You recognize this yourself when you call your family’s argument a fallacy, because a fallacy is an error in reasoning.
However, I don’t think you will get very far just by saying to your family, “You have to get a license, because it’s the law.” It might work better to turn conversation to the purpose of law, which is to promote the common good. Now it may sometimes be right to disobey a law which seriously injures the common good, but plainly the law requiring driver licenses doesn’t injure it – it promotes, it, by keeping people who don’t know how to drive or read road signs off the street, so that they are less likely to hurt other people.
There is no need to deny your family’s point that many people who drive without a license do just fine. That’s quite true, but it’s not the point. The point is that a great many people don’t do just fine, and the requirement for a license helps weed them out.
I am sure that the members of your family know all this. They are making excuses for not doing what they know they ought to do, because they don’t want to go to the trouble of doing it. Perhaps each one tells himself, “Well, I’m a safe driver. I don’t need to be kept off the road.” And perhaps he is a safe driver, but that is not the question. Point out: Not everyone who thinks he is a safe driver is really a safe driver, yet most bad drivers think they are safe drivers. Now ask: Are we all better off letting each person decide for himself whether he is safe driver, or are we all better off requiring each person to prove it? Obviously, the latter.
Now about how to defend yourself from the sorts of things your family members say. You don’t have to. Don’t.
In obvious matters like driving without a license, when you say we should do the right thing, why do you come under attack? Because it embarrasses people who want to do the wrong thing. They already know you are right. And when you approach the discussion as a debate -- as you did with your brother -- it makes them dig in, because it seems like a contest. So rather than defending yourself or debating, calmly explain why you believe what you believe.
But choose your time. The time to speak is when the other person might actually listen. He is more likely to listen when just the two of you are talking -- brother to brother, perhaps. By contrast, when a lot of people are in the conversation, anyone who does listen loses face in front of the others. So that is a time to be pleasant and say, “I won’t argue with you, but I know this is right.” Sometimes, the most persuasive speech is silence.
For an old style car, first you refine hydrocarbons – say, oil. Then you transport the resulting gasoline into the car’s fuel tank. Then you burn it to make the car go.
For an electric car, first you refine that oil. Then you burn it in a power plant to make electricity. Then you transmit the electricity to a battery charging station. Then you use the electricity to charge the batteries. Then you use the batteries to make the car go.
Can someone tell me why a process involving five steps is more efficient than a process involving only three? I concede that it is not mathematically impossible – with the right relative conversion efficiencies, anything is possible -- but forgive me for nursing a doubt.
Again, both the three-step and the five-step processes release waste heat and waste gasses into the biosphere. But the five-step process releases not only these, but additional problematic substances including cobalt and cadmium.
This time can someone tell me why the five-step process is friendlier to the environment? I may be missing something here too, but it isn’t obvious what.
And we haven’t even compared the health risks of coal miners and gas and oilfield workers with those of coal miners, gas and oilfield workers, plus cobalt and cadmium miners.
I want a clean planet too, but the political enthusiasm for electric vehicles is fueled largely by payoffs, sometimes called subsidies, and unexamined assumptions. Thus far it seems to be much more about virtue signaling than about virtue.
This post began to spark correspondence the moment I posted it online. Thanks to those who have written!
Yes, I know that not all electricity comes from burning hydrocarbons, and I share the hopes some readers have expressed for better alternatives than we have. Solar power generation isn’t there yet. It may never be, and not just because it requires the right climate and lots of sunny days.
We speak as though what we do now has environmental risks and what we propose doing doesn’t. Has anyone tried to estimate the effect that devoting enormous acreage to solar collection would have on temperatures? Some authors have proposed putting the collectors out in space instead and beaming the energy back down via focused microwaves, but I would hate to be in the way if the aiming software failed. Zzzt.
Fission is not on the table; we all know why. Fusion would be great, but we don’t know whether we can get it to work. For the foreseeable future, the other alternatives, such as tidal and geothermal electric power generation, seem more plausible as supplements to the conventional methods of power generation than as replacements.
Last point. When I said I might be missing something, I meant it. I don’t have the answers. What do I know? But sunny assumptions aren’t answers either.
Though never nurtured in the lap of luxury, yet I admonish you,
In the name of mercy, some recent theologians have suggested that there are elements of good in some objectively wrong acts and relationships. For example, friendship is good, and there certainly is an element of friendship in an illicit sexual relationship.
Or for that matter in the collusion of two thieves in a theft. Funny that we don’t apply the argument to theft.
We always stop with sex.
But why? There may be an element of intelligence in a well-planned fraud, an element of the love of kin in genocide, and an element of the love of beauty in the theft of a work of art. Friendship, intelligence, love of kin, and love of beauty are all good in themselves. But this is irrelevant to the question of whether these acts and relationships are wrong.
The question should not be whether there are elements of value in sins, but whether there is anything valuable about sinning.
Consider: No one can love evil for its own sake. The only thing it is possible to will for its own sake is good. Thus, the only way it is even possible to will an evil is that something about it seems good to us.
But something seems good to us in every evil, because evil cannot exist in itself. The only way to get an evil at all is to take something good and distort it.
The upshot is that the fact that evil contains disordered elements of good doesn’t mean it isn’t evil. What this fact shows is why evil can be attractive.
Now back to mercy. If I am hurting myself by what I am doing, if I am hurting others, if I am separating myself from God -- then I want my friends to love me enough to tell me. Lying to me in the name of “elements of good” does not help me. It is not mercy but indifference.
So although it is certainly possible to tell the truth without being merciful, it is impossible to be merciful without telling the truth.