Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The politics of recognition

Taylor's suggestion in this landmark essay is that, in fact, we ought to act with the presumption or premise that we owe equal respect to all cultures. It involves, he says, an act of faith. The claim: 'that all human cultures that have animated whole societies over some considerable stretch of time have something important to say to all human beings.' (He does get vague when it matters, ole Charlie T.). But this operates as a presumption, a starting point, which has to be demonstrated concretely in actual encounter.

However, in this encounter with another culture, we have to learn ourselves to move in a broader horizon, to develop new vocabularies of comparison:

if and when we ultimately find substantive support for our initial presumption, it is on the basis of an understanding of what constitutes worth that we couldn't possibly have had at the beginning. We have reached the judgement partly through transforming our standards.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Charles Taylor and difference-blind liberalism

There's a form of liberalism that imagines it can offer a neutral ground on which people of all cultures can meet and co-exist. And it polices that ground - the prosecution of the 'Catch the Fire' ministry for saying some pretty awful things about Muslims in Victoria is a case in point.
On this view, it is necssary to distinguish public and private, religion and politics and so on, so that you can put contentious difficulties into a non-political sphere as far as possible.

Taylor writes:

...a controversy like that over Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses shows how wrong this view is. FOr mainstream Islam, there is no question of separating politics and religion the way we have come to expect in Western liberal society. Liberalism is not a possible meeting ground of all cultures, but is the political expression of one range of cultures, and quite incompatible with other ranges. Moreover, as many Muslims are well aware, Western liberalism is not so much an expression of the secular, postreligious outlook that happens to be popular among liberal intellectuals as a more organic outgrowth of Christianity - at least as seen from the alternative vantage point of Islam. The division of church and state goes back to the earliest days of Christian civilisation.

(Taylor, 'The politics of recognition' p. 62)

Cricket - notes towards a theology

Yesterday's match at Blenheim Palace, in which I took part - for the Duke's team.



I shall not attempt something so presumptuous as to claim the preference of a game for the Almighty: I am sure he can choose for himself. However, as an Englishman of Jewish heritage once said:

‘I tend to think that cricket is the greatest thing that God ever created on earth - certainly greater than sex, although sex isn't too bad either’ - Harold Pinter

Cricket is itself a byword for grace: for the supremacy of the spirit over the letter. ‘It’s not cricket’ is an accusation above all of Pharisaism, of perhaps mastering the frame of the game but not its understanding its essence. In the infamous Bodyline series of 1932-33, the Australian captain Bill Woodfull famously said to the English manager: ‘I do not want to see you, Mr Warner. There are two teams out there. One is playing cricket and the other is not.’

Cricket is a game with a doctrine of creation perhaps only rivaled by that of golf. It is a game that relates directly to the surface of the earth; it is exposed to the wind and the rain and the sun. Cricket is a game invented by shepherds: it is a pastoral game.

Cricket has a biblical relationship to time. It combines the universal truths of the sages with the dynamic progressions and epic dimensions of covenant history.

If Cricket's messiah was Don Bradman, her Abraham was the appropriately named W.G. Grace. Well, perhaps he was more a Jacob of a figure: a wily grasper and a shamateur at that, a replacer of bails...but an impassable bearded giant at the crease.


Friday, September 14, 2007

Jonathan Edwards on preaching

Well this is too good not to note:

...the impressing divine things on the hearts and affections of men is evidently one great and main end for which God has ordained that His Word delivered in the holy Scriptures should be opened, applied, and set home upon men, in preaching. And therefore it does not answer the aim which God had in this institution, merely for men to have good commentaries and expositions on the Scripture, and other good books of divinity; becasue although these may tend as well as preaching to give men a good doctrinal or speculative understanding of the things of the Word of God, yet theu have not an equal tendency to impress them on men's heats and affections. God hath appointed a particular and lively application of His Word to men in the preaching of it, as a fit means to affect sinners with the importance of the things of religion, and their own misery and necssity of a remedy, and the glory and sifficiency of a remedy provided; and to stir up the pure minds of the saints and quicken their affections, by often bringing the great things of religion to their remebrance and setting them before them in their proper colours, though they know them, and have been fully instructed in the already...

Edwards' Religious Affections is to my mind the best piece on Christian spirituality there is. He got the emotions just right it seems to me. What I can't understand is why conservatives and charismatics don't sit down and read it together: I think both groups would feel rebuked and encouraged by what he says.

(it almost makes up for that terrible sermon, Sinners in the hands of an angry God. But that's another story...)

A martyr? who can say?

Robin Grove certainly is not convinced by Eliot's Thomas:

‘…he sweeps forward thourgh temptations progressively more inward, until the victory is gained…We know, because he says so. Or maybe, the doubt springs up, he has conformed God to his will, and chosen martyrdom vaingloriously after all.
There is simply no way anyone could tell. Whatever Becket’s motives, an audience can never be sure of them; only God can see his heart… Having directed us towards a light into which we cannot peer, the drama leaves un simultaneously exalted (God has given us ‘another Saint in Canterbury’) and pleasureably skeptical (the pious have been taken in by another holy fraud…).’

Perhaps the Knights are right after all? Whatever the case, Grove’s insight is that the true action of the drama, which is the nature of Thomas’ final choice and the divine verdict on it, has become ‘inaccessible to view’; and the spectators themselves become the subject of judgement by the play. Grove seems to find this turn to the audience quite unpleasant.

Robin Grove, "Pereira and After: The Cures of Eliot's Theatre " in The Cambridge Companion to T.S. Eliot, ed. Anthony David Moody, Cambridge Companions to Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), p. 170.

Eliot the conservative, continued...

Critic Donald Davie wrote of Eliot:

...when it came to deciding what Christian sect he should join, it was of the utmost importance to him that he choose what should seem to be not a sect at all but a national norm, its normality shown in that it was backed by the secular and institutional forces of the nation-state.' (Davie, Eliot in His Time, p. 186)

What a strange thing to be said of the author of Murder in the Cathedral! Thomas is depicted as unable to accept this kind of version of Christianity (as I read it, anyhow), because it so badly domesticates Christianity... This version of Christianity's role in society owes more I think to Kant and his idea of 'religion' than it does to authentic Christianity. For his part of course Nietzche couldn't see this normality of Christianity; but then, as some have argued, Nietzche understood Christianity in its true genius better than almost anyone...

Eliot the conservative, and religion

Scrutonian conservatism is not dissimilar to TS Eliot's conservatism. Eliot, in his 'The Idea of a Christian Society' described the necessity for society to have religious institutions for its benefit and even for its survival. Christianity, in the form of an established church, meshes well with the traditions of Englishness. It implies a life in conformity with nature, he says - not in a pagan sense, but in that it aids and abets family and social and national life as they spring, as it were, from the soil. He is not silly enough to suggest that this means that every is a Christian if they are English: but rather, that a Christian society might provide fertile ground for the discovery of Christ by the individuals within it. So he says: 'We need to recover the sense of religious fear, so that it may be overcome by religious hope'.

Strangely, in Murder in the Cathedral it seems that Eliot is also aware of what a great temptation this is for the church! Society may want what the churches have to offer: but the churches may not be able to give it in the way that society wants...

The values debate in Australia replicates this tension. Society clearly wants a version of Christian values of the kind that liberalism is unable to provide. And it will pay for it. We just may be tempted to accept the offer...

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Is Rowan Williams a postmodernist?


Is Williams then a ‘postmodernist’? I am not sure that these terms have today the descriptive usefulness they once might have had. Certainly, Williams is determined to understand from within as much as possible, whereas old school modernist Maurice Wiles finally determines to stand over and against. However, as he insists, Williams is not a radical sceptic, just critically wary of epistemological claims that are a little too sanguine. In another respect, Williams is quite ‘postmodern’: throughout his work, he is acutely sensitive to the charge that theological language can be and has indeed been used in the service of power in a malevolent way. As child of the 60s he accepts that generation's suspicion of power and of language's role in the maintenance of power.
In a third sense, Williams shares the postmodern love of flux over fixity, of many over mono. He just loves staring into the Heraclitean fire...

Roger Scruton on establishment

As a real live intelligent conservative, Roger Scruton supports the establishment of the church. That is, from a social and political point of view he sees great benefit in church-establishment for the country as a cohesive and visionary institution. The existence of a prominent established religion helps to maintain the social bond, he argues.

This only functions well insofaras the Church 'attends to the consoling myths which have drawn people to it'. As the church falls prey to secular causes - as he puts it, becoming 'a sanctimonious addendum to Gay Power' - then its authority is lost. That is: it must be true to its own mission and identity - alien though it may seem - if it is to maintain its position at the heart of the nations political authority. Society needs the church, he argues, in order to bring order and sense to the great passing moments of birth, marriage and death. Secularisation brings only confusion, 'a thousand irrelevant creeds'. Established religion also serves to protect the nation from the violence of fanaticism, and from the 'Manichean idiocy' so prevalent in California.

Scruton offers a great temptation to the church then, from the point of view of society. Society needs the church to perform a function that society is unable to do on its own. Will the church perform this role? The great danger would be for the church to imagine itself as the chaplain of social cohesion, just as it is a great danger for the church to imagine itself as persistently taking a revolutionary attitude to society and the state.

Williams on orthodoxy

Pre-Nicea, Williams paints a picture of an international network of churches who were perhaps like no other group determined to connect with one another in travel and by epistle:

Only against such a fluid and complex background does the emergence of a canon of writings become possible and make sense. 'Orthodoxy' in short depends heavily on the sheer mobility of believers as missionaries in the first generation and emissaries later on; it has a great deal to do with ease of communication in the Roman world, with all that- paradoxically - makes it possible to creat and sustain a 'rival' world of interlocking and supportive communities.

Letter writing and travel it seems were decisive to the development of orthodoxy. The ethos generated by this mutuality includes 'a capacity to question or distance oneself from the deliverances of a narrowly conceived present experience, from the merely local in time as well as space'.
That is: difference and criticism is already built in to orthodoxy.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

The Meaning of Conservatism - Roger Scruton

Prague Castle, seat of Wenceslas andmore latterly, Vaclav Havel.

Roger Scruton's major early book was his The Meaning of Conservatism: a pre-Thatcher era defence of the intellectual grounds for a conservative approach to political, social, national and family life.

He targets especially the social contractarian liberals for their sheer voluntarism. The family itself is a naturally occuring unit in which authority is to be found without it needing to be imposed from outside. Likewise, the society is not a voluntary association of free individuals who may withdraw at any time: it is 'naturally' occuring, having its origins beyond human choosing. And authority appears within it, of course. Why should we have to provide a theoretical justification for it, as liberals try to do? Such a justification always appears artificial. Power is always already there in these 'natural' affiliations, by means of a 'transcendent bond' which exists outside the realm of individual choices.

As with all political philosophers, he wants to say something about the self (even if, like Rorty, you want to say 'there is no self!' you still want to say it):
There is, to put it bluntly, something deeply self-deceived in the idea of a fulfilled human being whose style of life is entirely of his own devising; The cult of 'authenticity' - emphasizing the truth that the individual self is in some sense an artifact - espouses the self-contradictory position that it is by himself that he is made. This myth of self as causa sui is one to which few people now subscribe....I shall argue that, once we have rejected the cult of 'authenticity' we shall be forced to abandon the attempt to erode whatever is 'established', whatever has a versted power to overcome opposition, which is the first principle of liberal as of socialist thought... p. 38

Williams on Wiles III

From Williams’ perspective, then, there is no way in which Jesus can be merely illustrative of theological truths which are independent of him: he must rather be constitutive for Christian speaking about God. If this is so, doctrine ‘will be an attempt to do justice to the way in which the narrative and the continuing presence…of Jesus is held actively to shape present horizons, in judgement and in grace’.[1]
The way in which Williams’ carefully distances himself from Wiles reveals a great deal about the cast of his own theology. This piece in dialogue with Wiles touches on themes are that given a more full-orbed expression in several other essays. Though definitely affirming of the need for ‘doctrinal criticism’, Williams wants to prevent criticism from overwhelming the potential of the texts to critique us. The objective stance of the modernist scholar a la Wiles, won’t do.[2] By not allowing the theologian to hold Jesus and the tradition of talking about him at arms length, Williams hopes to show how the ‘narrative and continuing presence’ of Jesus functions as a judgement on the Christian, the church and the world, in such a way as new and surprising possibilities are brought to light. As Williams finally asks, ‘Wiles is far from insensitive to this priority of krisis over Kritik; but how can his model of doctrinal criticism allow it its proper weight?’[3]

[1] Ibid., p. 260.
[2] Is Williams then a ‘postmodernist’? I am not sure that these terms have today the descriptive usefulness they once might have had. Certainly, Williams is determined to understand from within as much as possible, whereas Wiles finally determines to stand over and against. However, as he insists, Williams is not a radical sceptic, just critically wary of epistemological claims that are a little too sanguine. In another respect, Williams is quite ‘postmodern’: throughout his work, he is acutely sensitive to the charge that theological language can be and has indeed been used in the service of power in a malevolent way.
[3] Williams, "Doctrinal Criticism: Some Questions," p. 261.

War - What is it good for?

Dresden after it was bombed.

I am not a pacifist. I think that pacificism is not the position of the Scriptures, nor even of Jesus himself (unless you edit him). But I am not comfortable with the label 'just war theorist' either. I have Christian pacifist friends whom I respect a good deal, and I owe a great deal to pacifist writers like Yoder and Hauerwas. One of the problems with pacificism in my view is that automatically you rule out the moral evaluation of acts of war because you disagree with them as a species of act in any case. I would rather allow for the possibility that 'war' is sometimes a necessary action in the pursuit of justice and the protection of the innocent - even if such a war has never been fought.

Two books I have been reading have touched on the appalling futility of war: Martin Gilbert's excellent Somme: The Heroism and Horror of War and A.C. Grayling's Among the Dead Cities - a ethical evaluation of the targeting of civilian populations in war (the answer is 'no, it is never justified' by the way).

Of course, it is no news to discover that war is appalling in almost every respect. Grayling's book shows that even in the case of a (by general consensus) morally 'justified' war (WWII) there were terrible atrocities committed by the victors - in the name of their good cause. The good cause did not sanctify the actions of those who possessed it, clearly.

The reading of these books made me all the more determined to question the West's ongoing pursuit of, and belief in, military action as a geo-political solution all in the name of liberal democracy.


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Williams on Wiles II

Williams is not, however, happy with Wiles’ take on the way in which the transforming impact of Jesus is to be described and applied. On Williams’ account (and this is why I say rather cheekily that there is a generational dispute between the two) Wiles comes very close to the profession of a ‘very full-blooded abstract universalist rationalism’.[1] While professing agnosticism about the veracity of Christian truth-claims, in reality his stance is positively skeptical. In other words, Wiles does tend to favour the settling of issues of truth while at the same time he appears to eschew them. Like the more conservative Pannenberg, Wiles assumes for his criticism in practice the standpoint of a universal tribunal in a quasi-legal paradigm. Williams reminds us of the Kantian orgins of the idea of ‘criticism’ in this mode; and of the post-Enlightenment turn against such ‘legal’ universalism. Willaims writes:
To say that there is no universal tribunal, that pluralities of perception cannt be settled by ‘legal action’, is not necessarily to doom ourselves to irrationalist relativism. It is, though, to acknowledge that what is sustainable, what can be asserted without arbitrariness…has more to do with how particular perceptions cope with and absorb contesting claims and maintain elements of critical ‘listening’ provisionality within their own frameworks than with meeting foreordained universal conditions of legality.[2]
For Williams it is axiomatic (he uses the word ‘commonplace’) that neutrality is not available in the assessment of traditional doctrinal statements. The alternative is not, however, hopeless nihilism. Rather, it is the process of ‘coping with’ and ‘absorbing’ the various transitions along the line of Christian tradition that requires attention ­– a process that actually serves to ‘extend and outgrow’ even the pots in which it is planted. That is: one can’t posit beforehand the terms by which the validity of doctrinal statements ought to be judged, not least because these statements themselves exist in a dialectical relationship to the conventions of making sense, and involve, repeatedly over the course of history, the transformation and renewal of theological discourse.
[1] Ibid., p. 260.
[2] Ibid., p. 259.

Williams on Wiles I

Rowan Williams’ contribution to the festschrift for Maurice Wiles[1] sketches out, with characteristic elegance and urbanity, some aspects of shared commitment to a critical approach to the study of the truth and adequacy of doctrinal statements. Though the two theologians were colleagues at Oxford during the 1980s, what becomes readily apparent is that they were of different generations. Wiles, as Williams presents him, was to be thanked for asking the right questions about Christian doctrine ­– inquiring, for example, as to the production and rhetorical purpose of doctrinal statements.[2] Wiles was raising the pertinent problem of how traditional doctrinal statements, concieved as they were in particular historical and intellectual conditions that are nigh on unrecoverable from the contemporary standpoint, might now be received. For Wiles, the propositional truth of the doctrinal formulae was only of secondary interest: he argued that the real focus ought now to be in the ‘experiential impulse’ (Williams’ phrase) that generated them. Doctrinal claims (such as the incarnation) in the patristic era arose rather haphazardly out of a impulse to find an ontological ground for the dramatic experience of the transforming impact of Jesus. Whatever else, Wiles affirms that Jesus does make a difference. The challenge of doctrinal criticism (offered by Wiles, and which Williams accepts) is to ‘read’ this difference, and, furthermore, to read properly the first and subsequent ‘readings’ of him.

[1] Maurice Wiles (d. 2005) was Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford University from 1970-1991; and was most famous for being a part of the publication in 1977 of The Myth of God Incarnate
[2] ‘…Wiles has succeeded in placing on the map of Anglophone theology a set of issues of the first importance’. Rowan Williams, "Doctrinal Criticism: Some Questions," in The Making and Remaking of Christian Doctrine : Essays in Honour of Maurice Wiles, ed. Sarah Coakley, David A. Pailin, and Maurice F. Wiles (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), p. 240.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Wannenwetsch on managerialism

I attended only one paper at the Society for the Study of Christian Ethics Annual Conference, that by my own supervisor. The theme of the conference was 'The Ideology of Managerialism in church, politics and society'.

Bernd Wannenwetsch's paper was titled: 'The Birth of Economisation of the Church: Out of the Spirit of Protestant Inwardness'.

His very strong thesis was that the churches were succombing to the temptation of managerialism with its emphases on outcomes, meeting felt needs, efficiency and benchmarking. He cited the case of the Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD) who had hired the management consultants McKinsey to advise them and to help them with recruitment. This was, as Wannenwetsch saw it, the church selling out the church by commodifying the gospel.

When the gospel is tailored to meet the needs of the supposed target audience, then we lose the Reformation emphasis on the externality of the word. The church has its identity as a listenting/hearing church in response to the gospel. It is a creature of the Word. It does not have the gospel as a possession to offer in order to meet people's spiritual needs.

He sourced this turn back to Schleiermacher's Romantic era inwardness: that the logos is found inside every person 'always already', and only needs the church to connect with it in some way contrasts with the Lutheran teaching that the gospel comes to us from outside of us. We have shifted from a doctrine of the Word to a doctrine of Faith. Now, human needs and not the gospel are seen as inexhuastible. The church becomes not the hearing and obedient church, but rather the spiritually expert church.

The great biblical passage that he reminded us of was the challenge between the prophets of Baal and Elijah on Mount Carmel. The sheer dynamism of the power of Yhwh contrast with the ineptitude of Baal. Elijah does not need to imprecate Yhwh, but rather to wait on him.

As Wannenwetsch said: 'The gospel has not come to meet our needs but to transform our needs into something worth having'.

SO: the spirit of managerialism is... a demonic spirit!

Theology as pure method?

This summer I obtained two books for my 9-year old son to read - The Philosophy Files 1 and 2 by Stephen Law.

They are quite brilliantly conceived books, using a dialogical style to introduce kids to the great issues of philosophical debate. Law is able to give the arguments for both sides in most instances, and then prompts some further questions. We had great fun talking about whether eating meat was ok, for example.

My thought was, why aren't there similar books on theology for Simon's age group: books that are fun, stimulating, don't talk down, don't provide cheap easy answers and have cool pictures in them?

But then a further realisation: Law is able to do what he does because he presents philosophy as a method of thinking rather than any particular set of thoughts. Essentially, as he offers it, philosophy means developing your skill in rational thinking (it's a very English view!). What answer you come to on the various questions is in the end irrelevant pretty much: it is the process of thinking them through that concerns him. And it makes for a more interesting book because it is open-ended in this way.

Can theology be presented like this? Can we say 'this is good theological thinking' without actually resolving some of the questions the philosopher is happy to leave unresolved? How could you then present theology to intelligent 9-13 year olds as not merely a set of answers but a way of thinking?

Friday, September 07, 2007

A good lecturer...

1. Doesn't spoon-feed the students, even when they beg and beg and beg. Never hand out full text notes, or make them available.

2. Stimulates futher thinking and reading rather than provides the definitive answer for all time. But doesn't shy from conclusions either.

3. Gives you an account of the views of others, but is unafraid to give their own opinion - with passion if necessary. Prejudice is a wonderful pedagogical tool!

4. Gives a brief but quality reading list.

5. Is disciplined about questions, and is even quite harsh with rambling or hectoring questioners if necessary. Perhaps he or she makes clear how questions are going to run before the lecture. If there is no time, then tough.

6. Is disciplined about discussions or other in class activities.

7. Does check to see if he or she is being listened to, and asks for clarification questions.

8. NEVER belittles other students for a laugh. In fact, is secure enough not to have to be funny all the time.

9. Makes time for female students to ask questions, speak, talk, interact etc.

10. Starts on time/finishes on time.

11. Never or rarely runs out of time: but each lecture is presented whole.

12. Makes an effort to communicate with colour and variety.

13. Isn't obsessed with powerpoint.

14. Provides a simple outline. One A4 sheet is sufficient.

15. Appears to be enjoying him/herself.

16. Gives clear and simple information about assessment. Doesn't spend too long fussing about it.

17. Is accessible outside the class room.

18. Knows what he or she is actually talking about.

19. Is not defensive when questioned, but firm.

Can you add to the list?

I'm not old

From Monty Python and the Holy Grail...
[thud]
[King Arthur music]
[thud thud thud]
[King Arthur music stops]
ARTHUR:
Old woman!
DENNIS:
Man!
ARTHUR:
Man. Sorry. What knight lives in that castle over there?
DENNIS:
I'm thirty-seven.
ARTHUR:
I-- what?
DENNIS:
I'm thirty-seven. I'm not old.

I couldn't agree more...

Cruelty - the worst thing we can do?

As Richard Rorty tells it (and he gets this from Judith Shklar), a liberal is someone who thinks that 'cruelty is the worst thing we do'.
Shklar herself wrote:

Sins are transgressions of a divine rule and offenses against God; pride, as the rejection of God, must always be the worst one, which gives rise to all the others. Cruelty, as the willful inflicting of physical pain on a weaker being in order to cause anguish and fear, however, is a wrong done entirely to another creature. When it is marked as a supreme evil, it is judged so in and of itself, and not because it signifies a rejection of God or any other higher norm. It is a judgement made from within a world where cruelty occurs as part both of our normal private life and our daily public practice. By putting it irrevocably first—with nothing above it, and with nothing to excuse or forgive acts of cruelty—one closes off any appeal to any order other than that of actuality.
Cruelty stands alone as a kind of self-referencing evil: for Shklar it is evil on its own terms and not because of some higher norm. Christians may loath cruelty, but unless they put it first and worst, she argues, they will always find a reason somewhere to excuse it. She sites Christian history to prove it - the terrible episode of the Conquistadors being just one.
Of course, liberal democracies have also been complicit in cruelty - whether by participating in economic systems which produce it or by the explicit use of torture in war.