If there is anything that most non-Catholic Christians accuse Catholicism of wrongly being, it's excessively papal. The Magisterium is, for many Protestants and Orthodox, a stumbling block and a scandal. The fact that most Catholics believe that "infallibility" means the pope is never wrong and that everything that comes out of the Vatican is the word of God only helps make this problem worse. This raises, for non-Catholics, the question of authority. Many Catholics, myself included, even question the authority of a body of old, celibate, European clerics when it comes to life in the regular world.
It is my goal to look briefly at examples of authority and attempt to make sense of what really goes into them. This post will examine both the nature of authority and discuss intellectual authority. The next post will discuss political and ecclesial authority.
There are many factors that contribute to what exactly authority is. Different disciplines would even give different definitions and different explanations for it. The political scientist would provide an explanation of power dynamics. The social Darwinist could explain strength and how different attributes, such as brute force, intelligence and charisma affect authority. We will begin our discussion, however, with a look to political philosophers.
John Locke and Thomas Hobbes place the authority of governing structures in the human necessity for protection. For Locke, the authority of a political structure only lies in its ability to successfully benefit the populace. For Hobbes, the political structure necessarily requires authoritative figures to protect us from ourselves. For Friedrich Nietzsche, authority is much more complex and is attributable to several competing factors. One such factor is brute strength and violence, an attribute he gives to the now infamous "blond beast" of ancient Europe. Another such factor is cunning and intellectual manipulation, which he attributes to the "weaker" faiths of Judaism and Christianity.
It seems to me that Nietzsche is partially right, at least when it comes to the intellectual portion. People see some agency or person as an authority because they see that person as well-versed and competent in whatever it is he or she is doing. This attribution may be due to intimidation, psychological manipulation, rational evaluation, or simply complacency.
Intimidation, or fear-based authority, is respect for a person or organization due to what one is afraid that person or agency might do. For example, I might consider the king's authority to be legitimate because he killed the previous king, and if I refuse to cooperate, he could kill me as well. Similarly, a child might be afraid of her parents' anger. This is often the authority that binds more vicious people to the law, but can also be seen in examples of harsh teachers, whom students might not respect intellectually but might fear poor marks, or some preachers, who might preach Hell and damnation for disobedience.
Psychological manipulation, it seems to me, is the most common form of authoritative respect. Buzz words to look out for in this style of authority are "brainwashing," "propaganda," "peer-pressure" and "coercion." While intimidation relies on threats and fear, psychological manipulation does better and relies on people actually believing the authority of a subject based mostly on words. The proper way to garner this trust in authority is rhetoric. Generally, a person we trust, one whose authority we already have established, shares with us her trust in another person or institution. Because we respect the judgment and the authority of the person who tells us this, we, in turn, begin to trust the authority of whatever it is she is promoting. Commonly, one hears, "Becky swears by it," or "Joe says she's a great professor," however it is not strictly limited to choosing an authority. Once we have placed our trust in an authority, the rhetoric of that authority, as long as we have no reason to doubt it, will only strengthen its authoritative power over us. This, then, is the arena that people often find patriotism, ecclesiastic loyalty, partisanship, and brand loyalty. Often the authority is not a person, but a group, thus, it holds more sway by sheer numbers.
Rational Inquiry is the most basic form of trust in authority and occurs mostly on the level of persons. As I get to know a person and his or her ideals, I begin to question whether or not he is worth my confidence. As happens sometimes, this could be prevented by my trust in other authorities, perhaps because I belong to a certain religious of philosophical school and he belongs to another, or because our political views are influenced by different political camps. This, then, is the tragedy of the psychological manipulation mentioned above. If our cultured biases interfere with our ability to rationally judge the veracity of a supposed authority, then we have failed to truly understand what authority is. Notable examples of this are Conservatives who dismiss the authority of Ecologists or atheists who dismiss Christian Ethicists. A truly rationally curious approach would examine the technique and the motivation of the authority. A talk-show host who utilizes irrational accusations, baseless claims and appeals to the Ethos is most often less trustworthy than the biologist who utilizes the scientific method and produces results open to scrutiny and replication. The problem, however, of rational inquiry is that it requires a discerning spirit as well as a hard work.
Then there are instances where people are not swayed by appeals to the Pathos, Ethos or Logos. Due to laziness, confusion or apathy, some people attribute authority to those whom they think "probably just know better." This is often the case with people like the lapsed Catholic or the discontent American. He might not agree with the Church on many issues, but because he feels a certain loyalty to it, he will follow regardless, and likely not attempt to reconcile the cognitive dissonance he feels. Similarly, he might regard the decisions and politics of the government as foolish and futile, but going to the ballot box he'll choose the candidate that he thinks will be less likely to make a mess of things. This is the trust of the pessimist. He thinks nothing good will arise, but he sees no preferable alternative.
These four sources, it seems to me, are the main ways in which we decide which authorities to listen to. They appeal, as previously mentioned, to the Pathos, the Ethos and the Logos and often struggle against other competing voices.
In the intellectual world, our trust in authority often depends on matters of psychological manipulation and rational inquiry. We trust a person or an institution as an intellectual authority usually because we have studied its tenets and found them reasonable. We distrust others because we have found them lacking, or because we have been convinced by other authorities that they are wrong.
In academia, this is most often found in the subjects of philosophy and theology. Theologians often have differing theologies, many of which are incompatible with others, but the average theologian will attempt to achieve "balance" by not decrying those of differing mindsets. However, due to the breadth of theological query, which covers two thousand years of thought and most cultures of the world, there are many times when theories compete. Philosophers, on the other hand, are less likely to gingerly talk about their opponents. Since philosophers are usually not operating under a pre-determined set of doctrines or rules, they experience much more freedom to outwardly deny other philosophies and to freely label other philosophers as fools.
Disciplines where one does not usually see competing schools of thought tend to be the hard sciences, though physicists often argue about string theory versus quantum mechanics versus special relativity. The arts and humanities, such as literature, psychology and linguistics often have differing and opposing views, but, at the end of the day their differences aren't of the same sort of soteriological (saving) or eschatological (end of the world) significance as philosophers and theologians tend to think of their differences.
Often times, when a person decides one school of intellectual thought is right for her, she normally decides so on the basis of what she is used to, what seems most rational or simple to her, or what seems to validate her experience. The mystic is less likely to embrace a purely rationalistic theology than he is an ascetically oriented one, and the existentially curious reader will be more likely to read Sartre than Jane Austen.
Of course, as mentioned before, there is also a great deal of psychological manipulation that influences our decision in intellectual matters as well. Someone raised in a staunch, conservative Baptist household is probably not going to give much credence to the radical Catholic theology of Michael Baxter. On the other hand, a student raised to value empiricism and scientific methodology is more likely to respect Thomas Watson and Albert Einstein as intellectual authorities than he is to respect Jerry Falwell or Billy Graham.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Verbosity as a tragedy
If there's one thing I cannot stand about theologians, it's how removed they often are from ordinary life. On one level, it's easy to see that the priest, who is taken care of financially by the diocese, who is not married, who spends all day studying theology and whose every move is checked and instructed by the Church, cannot truly relate to most of his parish on many levels. But this is a topic for another day and, perhaps another rant (as a theology student, it can be extremely frustrating knowing that there's no money to be made in theology, so while I put myself in debt there's no financial pay-off while people in religious orders often get tuition and living expenses covered).
What I mean to say is that often the things we talk about in theology classrooms are so far removed from both comprehensibility and practicality that it seems like we're talking for our own benefits. I've had plenty of professors who seem to just enjoy the sound of their voices. So the problem is, I think, twofold. First, I think there's a problem of actually seeing how what we're studying has any real application. Luckily, since I study at the School of Theology and MINISTRY, there are a lot of ministers in my classes who make the professors aware of this problem. Additionally, in moral theology classes, at least, the very subject matter is of such a nature that it is supposed to be directly applicable. While there is a lot of talk of theory and formulae, moral theology is really where the aetherial musings of theologians materialize. Abortion, gay marriage, suicide, euthanasia, politics, work and wages, the plight of the poor--essentially the actual happenings in the lives of the faithful--are the real topics of moral debate.
The second problem, however, is much harder to address and fix. Theologians often like to use and incorporate language that is often confusing and usually unnecessary. Then, they often use the terms as if they're obvious when, in fact, they often mean different things depending on the person.
Take, for example, objectivity and subjectivity, two terms which, I believe, were started by the ever-so-confusing German philosopher Immanuel Kant. Objectivity, in one usage, means what is actually the case. Subjectivity, on the other hand, is "just your opinion." However, another usage of objectivity is looking towards the object, in other words "your perspective" and another usage of subjectivity is looking towards oneself, in other words "introspection." However, rather than using terms that are much easier to remember and follow, theologians often opt to interchange objectivity and subjectivity in such a way that one finds himself reading the same passage multiple times to tease out the meaning only to realize at the end that the solution was simple and just confusingly worded.
One of my roommates, in her zeal to show her enthusiasm for Systematic Theology purchased a fridge magnet with one of those quotes on it, the kind that normally are supposed to either inspire, comfort or amuse. On the magnet was a quote from Bernard Lonnergan, a Jesuit theologian, and the quote said, "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity." While I would first rather have something like a quote about teamwork posted on my fridge rather than some out of context quote that means nothing to the average person, I decided to actually ponder the meaning. It seems to me that what is meant by this quote is that objectivity, according to my first definition, is the result of subjectivity, according to the second definition. In other words, seeing the way something is happens when we practice introspection. I don't know about the other readers out there, but I would rather read something like that as an inspirational quote over "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity" any day.
but those borrowed philosophical terms aren't even the extent of it. Within theology, especially "systematics" (already NOT a self-apparent term) there are several smaller branches whose meanings are just as cryptic or non-apparent. There's ecclesiology, or the way the Church runs, soteriology, or how we're saved, christology, or Jesus and the Trinity, apologetics, or defending the faith, eschatology, or the end times, exegesis, or interpreting Scripture, and others. Most of the terms are fanciful but unnecessary. It's almost as if theologians feel the need to come up with specific terms for anything that they might find interesting just in order to give it more credibility as a discipline. The problem, of course, comes when one tries to actually relate it to anybody who hasn't studied theology for years.
Then, of course, the terms get put into buzz-word formulas. In business meetings one might hear, "We need to actuate more synergy by cooperative endeavors" but in theology it's even more confusing. One of my professors this week made a joke about St Paul and stated, "His christology is his soteriology." Would it not be much easier to simply say, "He believed our salvation was only through Christ?" Another professor of mine gave a homily today in which he stated we need to make the subjunctive into the indicative. Not only was that a reference that only a theologian would understand, but he would also have to be grammatically familiar with a language that has both subjunctive and indicative like Latin. It occurred to me that the priest, God bless him, was trying more to impress with his knowledge of grammar and the liturgy than he was trying to give an actual lesson.
Alasdair MacIntyre, no small name in his own right, once said in a class that one should not pretend to have mastered a concept until he can explain it to his grandmother who only has a third grade education. This seems quite applicable, as I can't even understand some of what these elite professors are talking about, even with a grad student's level of understanding.
The cultured despisers of the world often criticize theists for being ignorant and uneducated. Truth be told, most of the theologians I have met have been legions more intelligent than the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Charles Dawkins, Samuel Dennet et al. How, though, is anybody in the world supposed to know this when we theologians use overinflated language and tend to confuse rather than explain. I'm not saying the content needs to be watered down or lightened, heaven forbid, but rather that rather than using bombastic terms like "objectivity" or "soteriology," why is it that we cannot actually say what we mean?
What I mean to say is that often the things we talk about in theology classrooms are so far removed from both comprehensibility and practicality that it seems like we're talking for our own benefits. I've had plenty of professors who seem to just enjoy the sound of their voices. So the problem is, I think, twofold. First, I think there's a problem of actually seeing how what we're studying has any real application. Luckily, since I study at the School of Theology and MINISTRY, there are a lot of ministers in my classes who make the professors aware of this problem. Additionally, in moral theology classes, at least, the very subject matter is of such a nature that it is supposed to be directly applicable. While there is a lot of talk of theory and formulae, moral theology is really where the aetherial musings of theologians materialize. Abortion, gay marriage, suicide, euthanasia, politics, work and wages, the plight of the poor--essentially the actual happenings in the lives of the faithful--are the real topics of moral debate.
The second problem, however, is much harder to address and fix. Theologians often like to use and incorporate language that is often confusing and usually unnecessary. Then, they often use the terms as if they're obvious when, in fact, they often mean different things depending on the person.
Take, for example, objectivity and subjectivity, two terms which, I believe, were started by the ever-so-confusing German philosopher Immanuel Kant. Objectivity, in one usage, means what is actually the case. Subjectivity, on the other hand, is "just your opinion." However, another usage of objectivity is looking towards the object, in other words "your perspective" and another usage of subjectivity is looking towards oneself, in other words "introspection." However, rather than using terms that are much easier to remember and follow, theologians often opt to interchange objectivity and subjectivity in such a way that one finds himself reading the same passage multiple times to tease out the meaning only to realize at the end that the solution was simple and just confusingly worded.
One of my roommates, in her zeal to show her enthusiasm for Systematic Theology purchased a fridge magnet with one of those quotes on it, the kind that normally are supposed to either inspire, comfort or amuse. On the magnet was a quote from Bernard Lonnergan, a Jesuit theologian, and the quote said, "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity." While I would first rather have something like a quote about teamwork posted on my fridge rather than some out of context quote that means nothing to the average person, I decided to actually ponder the meaning. It seems to me that what is meant by this quote is that objectivity, according to my first definition, is the result of subjectivity, according to the second definition. In other words, seeing the way something is happens when we practice introspection. I don't know about the other readers out there, but I would rather read something like that as an inspirational quote over "Objectivity is the genuine fruit of subjectivity" any day.
but those borrowed philosophical terms aren't even the extent of it. Within theology, especially "systematics" (already NOT a self-apparent term) there are several smaller branches whose meanings are just as cryptic or non-apparent. There's ecclesiology, or the way the Church runs, soteriology, or how we're saved, christology, or Jesus and the Trinity, apologetics, or defending the faith, eschatology, or the end times, exegesis, or interpreting Scripture, and others. Most of the terms are fanciful but unnecessary. It's almost as if theologians feel the need to come up with specific terms for anything that they might find interesting just in order to give it more credibility as a discipline. The problem, of course, comes when one tries to actually relate it to anybody who hasn't studied theology for years.
Then, of course, the terms get put into buzz-word formulas. In business meetings one might hear, "We need to actuate more synergy by cooperative endeavors" but in theology it's even more confusing. One of my professors this week made a joke about St Paul and stated, "His christology is his soteriology." Would it not be much easier to simply say, "He believed our salvation was only through Christ?" Another professor of mine gave a homily today in which he stated we need to make the subjunctive into the indicative. Not only was that a reference that only a theologian would understand, but he would also have to be grammatically familiar with a language that has both subjunctive and indicative like Latin. It occurred to me that the priest, God bless him, was trying more to impress with his knowledge of grammar and the liturgy than he was trying to give an actual lesson.
Alasdair MacIntyre, no small name in his own right, once said in a class that one should not pretend to have mastered a concept until he can explain it to his grandmother who only has a third grade education. This seems quite applicable, as I can't even understand some of what these elite professors are talking about, even with a grad student's level of understanding.
The cultured despisers of the world often criticize theists for being ignorant and uneducated. Truth be told, most of the theologians I have met have been legions more intelligent than the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Charles Dawkins, Samuel Dennet et al. How, though, is anybody in the world supposed to know this when we theologians use overinflated language and tend to confuse rather than explain. I'm not saying the content needs to be watered down or lightened, heaven forbid, but rather that rather than using bombastic terms like "objectivity" or "soteriology," why is it that we cannot actually say what we mean?
Friday, January 14, 2011
The Published Article!!
After waiting the better part of a year, my article is finally out! In December's edition of Interreligious Insights, under the title "The Mormon Godhead and the Christian Trinity" my research article was finally published.
Link to the article
Link to the article
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Giftmas
As much as I like that we have an entire holiday season (Advent-the Christmas season) to celebrate the miraculous birth of the Word Incarnate, I can honestly say that I have always been a bit of a "Scrooge" when it comes to Christmas. It isn't because of the emphasis on the birth, and it isn't because of the family. It is only partly because of the endless Christmas music being played right after Thanksgiving, the store ads encouraging everyone to buy, the crowds at shopping centers and the high running emotions of everyone else. These things don't bother me as much as one particular thing: the gift exchange.
The reason why I always dread the gifts is simple: It's not really a system of giving. For one thing, often times we get what we expect. We ask for certain things, thereby, what we receive is not truly a gift, but rather is the fulfillment of a request. I ask friends for favors from time to time, and if a friend fulfills this, I don't really understand the fulfillment of a request to be on the level of gift, but more closely related to the level of promise fulfillment.
This leads to the second point. Gift exchange is exactly that: it's an exchange. I hope to get something good from those whom I am close to who have more resources. Likewise, I have to give according to my own resources. However, I am expected to give to those who give to me and I, in turn, expect a gift from those to whom I give presents. Furthermore, though I fully intend to spend something appropriate to my means, I feel guilty if my gift does not approximate the value of the received gift, and likewise the giver feels slighted. This can lead to the exact opposite goal of Christmas, which ought to bring people together, rather than create rifts within them. For this reason, Christmas gift exchange is even more emotionally and socially disruptive than is birthday gift exchange, in which one person receives with no expectation to provide similar gifts.
Third, the gifts almost always are expected to be some material possession. The children need to have the brand new toy advertised on cartoons. Adult friends may expect a fine wine or liquor, or perhaps jewelry. The gift's worth is measured not in the uniqueness, or the emotional worth, but rather the economic worth. A six-pack of beer that I brewed might be nice, but ONLY if my brew itself turned out well. A handmade piece of furniture, or art is only a "good" gift if it measures up to my expectation of aesthetic appeal. If I write you a poem, it better be framed, or published. Even these gifts, however, have more appeal to them than a gift of time. If I swear a few hours of my time to you to talk or fish or see a movie, this is not considered an adequate gift, though, in all reality, this gift improves the relationship much more than does a shiny new computer, car or television.
For this reason, gift giving functions more as an economy than as gift. Jacques Derrida speaks of the "economy of gift" an economy of giving and taking. However, he argues, the true gift is the one that can not be returned.
I agree with this. Gifts, as gifts, are not given as a sort of promissory note for something of equal value. They are not vouchers guaranteeing future gifts. This mindset, this "economics of giving" mentality creates for us a selfish social system. What kind of gift are we giving if we expect a return? Are we merely making an investment? And, if so, what is our purpose in giving the gift? We say we give gifts to each other on Christmas to commemorate Jesus' life. Sometimes we use the rationale of the gifts of the Magi, other times we compare our gifts to Jesus' gift of life (or death, to use Derrida's words). What did the Magi receive for their gifts? Certainly it wasn't eternal life, for that was given to all of humanity. What did Jesus receive for His gift? He received death! How can we expect gifts if we say we are celebrating the Incarnation?
Gift giving is strange in this way, especially in contemporary Western society. In some cultures, like certain Asian cultures and the ancient Greeks, gifts were given from a patron to the object of his affection. The wealthier, more established men or women would shower their disciples with gifts, with no expectation of return, for the mentor would probably pass on before he could be repaid. In certain Native American cultures, gifts were given as a sign of respect, and those who received them only accepted them if she deemed them worthy of her. While this fosters a sort of tributary system, the receiving party never expected to repay the gift, and thus it was, in ways, a true gift. In other cultures, gift exchange demonstrates who has the dominant position in a relationship. Whoever gives the greater gift is the more powerful and the other person is indebted, though will not pay the debt off with another gift.
While these three examples don't necessarily demonstrate what Derrida and I mean by gift, they do represent the purpose of gift much better than does the Western style of giving. For one thing, in these systems gifts are not expected. Thus, the gift itself comes as a surprise and is not a request, nor an expectation. Second, the gifts are not meant to be repayment or to equalize parties. This is important because the relationship develops a sort of dependence quality to it. The parties are loyal to each other because one feels indebted to the other, and the other is loyal out of respect for the loyalty received. In the Western system, we try to achieve independent equilibrium, maintaining that we owe nothing to anyone and preventing true relational bonding. Third, if a gift of a certain value is not expected, the gift does not have to take the form of something financially quantifiable. I can freely give you unique advice. You can freely take time you would otherwise not to spend time with me. He can devote his weekend to making sure things go well for her on an important occasion. We already do these things, but we don't consider them gifts because we have become caught up in the notion that gift must entail retail value.
Derrida's definition of gift, then, is something that cannot be repaid, something that cannot be expected or requested and cannot be thanked. It must either be anonymous or circumstances must make it impossible for the donor to receive recognition. It cannot be out of request, otherwise it is merely fulfillment of promise and thus functions more contractually than beneficently. It must be of some nature that the receiver cannot make restitution, otherwise it is merely purchase or trade.
Jesus tells us not to give for recognition (Matthew 6:1). Those who "blow a trumpet" or otherwise make a scene of their donation do so only to gain something. It is not a true gift. It is an exchange for fame, patronage, favorable recognition or legacy. Those who "do alms in secret," on the other hand, don't receive earthly reward. Of course, the verse states that God will reward those who do alms which sets up the problematic situation of doing alms to get in heaven (read: Indulgences), however, the moral theologian realizes that while the Scripture states that God will reward those who do "invisible alms" the truly beneficent person will do alms out of a sense of the good and not for some Karmic reward. The point is not whether we receive God's blessings openly but rather that we learn to enjoy giving without recognition.
Jesus also tells us when we have banquets to invite those who cannot ever hope to repay (the poor and the handicapped) (Luke 14:13). Once again, there is the promise of some sort of supernatural reparation, but, once again, the point here is not that we receive some great reward in Paradise. Rather, the point is that we ought to have those who can never repay us owe us. This is not to lord it over them, but rather, it is to teach us not to require the repayment of everything. We give to those who cannot repay us because it is no longer a gift if we have been repaid for it.
Jesus, as a gift Himself, represents the way in which gifts do NOT need to be financially estimable. "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son" (John 3:16). What monetary value is the crucifixion of Jesus? How does one calculate salvation? Is there a special box on our tax forms for the gift of Grace? One cannot put a price tag on a human life, especially if that life happens to be God become man. Thus, we see that God demonstrates this gift form best of all, for no amount of money can be equivalent to the gift of Jesus.
We see in Jesus, then, the ultimate, and true, gift. In Jesus' death, He gave us something that He could receive no personal recognition for. While we now venerate and worship Jesus, we cannot personally thank Him, and even as he hung on the cross, he received not so much as an expression of gratitude. Rather, he received scorn and abuse from most, and, at best, the weeping and wailing of a few. He also gave us something we can never pay back the "gift of death." Jesus died for us, and we cannot, in turn, die for Jesus in the same way. Jesus' death provides for us. The best we can do, in turn, is to die in His name, though it does nothing personally for Him, for He is already saved and is already risen (however, in the case of the martyrs, if it comes down to dying for Him and denying Him, much theology suggests right relation with Christ requires not denying Him). Finally, as previously mentioned, there is no monetary value one can fix for the Passion, death and resurrection.
Thus, if I might leave but one thing with you for this Christmas season, and indeed, for all year around, it's that the true meaning of Christmas is not found in the manger, nor the jolly red-suited saint and especially not in the public exchange of items of equal value. Rather, the true meaning of Christmas lies in Christ's ultimate gift for us, a gift of death and life, a gift that we can never repay and a gift that we can never thank Him enough for.
The reason why I always dread the gifts is simple: It's not really a system of giving. For one thing, often times we get what we expect. We ask for certain things, thereby, what we receive is not truly a gift, but rather is the fulfillment of a request. I ask friends for favors from time to time, and if a friend fulfills this, I don't really understand the fulfillment of a request to be on the level of gift, but more closely related to the level of promise fulfillment.
This leads to the second point. Gift exchange is exactly that: it's an exchange. I hope to get something good from those whom I am close to who have more resources. Likewise, I have to give according to my own resources. However, I am expected to give to those who give to me and I, in turn, expect a gift from those to whom I give presents. Furthermore, though I fully intend to spend something appropriate to my means, I feel guilty if my gift does not approximate the value of the received gift, and likewise the giver feels slighted. This can lead to the exact opposite goal of Christmas, which ought to bring people together, rather than create rifts within them. For this reason, Christmas gift exchange is even more emotionally and socially disruptive than is birthday gift exchange, in which one person receives with no expectation to provide similar gifts.
Third, the gifts almost always are expected to be some material possession. The children need to have the brand new toy advertised on cartoons. Adult friends may expect a fine wine or liquor, or perhaps jewelry. The gift's worth is measured not in the uniqueness, or the emotional worth, but rather the economic worth. A six-pack of beer that I brewed might be nice, but ONLY if my brew itself turned out well. A handmade piece of furniture, or art is only a "good" gift if it measures up to my expectation of aesthetic appeal. If I write you a poem, it better be framed, or published. Even these gifts, however, have more appeal to them than a gift of time. If I swear a few hours of my time to you to talk or fish or see a movie, this is not considered an adequate gift, though, in all reality, this gift improves the relationship much more than does a shiny new computer, car or television.
For this reason, gift giving functions more as an economy than as gift. Jacques Derrida speaks of the "economy of gift" an economy of giving and taking. However, he argues, the true gift is the one that can not be returned.
I agree with this. Gifts, as gifts, are not given as a sort of promissory note for something of equal value. They are not vouchers guaranteeing future gifts. This mindset, this "economics of giving" mentality creates for us a selfish social system. What kind of gift are we giving if we expect a return? Are we merely making an investment? And, if so, what is our purpose in giving the gift? We say we give gifts to each other on Christmas to commemorate Jesus' life. Sometimes we use the rationale of the gifts of the Magi, other times we compare our gifts to Jesus' gift of life (or death, to use Derrida's words). What did the Magi receive for their gifts? Certainly it wasn't eternal life, for that was given to all of humanity. What did Jesus receive for His gift? He received death! How can we expect gifts if we say we are celebrating the Incarnation?
Gift giving is strange in this way, especially in contemporary Western society. In some cultures, like certain Asian cultures and the ancient Greeks, gifts were given from a patron to the object of his affection. The wealthier, more established men or women would shower their disciples with gifts, with no expectation of return, for the mentor would probably pass on before he could be repaid. In certain Native American cultures, gifts were given as a sign of respect, and those who received them only accepted them if she deemed them worthy of her. While this fosters a sort of tributary system, the receiving party never expected to repay the gift, and thus it was, in ways, a true gift. In other cultures, gift exchange demonstrates who has the dominant position in a relationship. Whoever gives the greater gift is the more powerful and the other person is indebted, though will not pay the debt off with another gift.
While these three examples don't necessarily demonstrate what Derrida and I mean by gift, they do represent the purpose of gift much better than does the Western style of giving. For one thing, in these systems gifts are not expected. Thus, the gift itself comes as a surprise and is not a request, nor an expectation. Second, the gifts are not meant to be repayment or to equalize parties. This is important because the relationship develops a sort of dependence quality to it. The parties are loyal to each other because one feels indebted to the other, and the other is loyal out of respect for the loyalty received. In the Western system, we try to achieve independent equilibrium, maintaining that we owe nothing to anyone and preventing true relational bonding. Third, if a gift of a certain value is not expected, the gift does not have to take the form of something financially quantifiable. I can freely give you unique advice. You can freely take time you would otherwise not to spend time with me. He can devote his weekend to making sure things go well for her on an important occasion. We already do these things, but we don't consider them gifts because we have become caught up in the notion that gift must entail retail value.
Derrida's definition of gift, then, is something that cannot be repaid, something that cannot be expected or requested and cannot be thanked. It must either be anonymous or circumstances must make it impossible for the donor to receive recognition. It cannot be out of request, otherwise it is merely fulfillment of promise and thus functions more contractually than beneficently. It must be of some nature that the receiver cannot make restitution, otherwise it is merely purchase or trade.
Jesus tells us not to give for recognition (Matthew 6:1). Those who "blow a trumpet" or otherwise make a scene of their donation do so only to gain something. It is not a true gift. It is an exchange for fame, patronage, favorable recognition or legacy. Those who "do alms in secret," on the other hand, don't receive earthly reward. Of course, the verse states that God will reward those who do alms which sets up the problematic situation of doing alms to get in heaven (read: Indulgences), however, the moral theologian realizes that while the Scripture states that God will reward those who do "invisible alms" the truly beneficent person will do alms out of a sense of the good and not for some Karmic reward. The point is not whether we receive God's blessings openly but rather that we learn to enjoy giving without recognition.
Jesus also tells us when we have banquets to invite those who cannot ever hope to repay (the poor and the handicapped) (Luke 14:13). Once again, there is the promise of some sort of supernatural reparation, but, once again, the point here is not that we receive some great reward in Paradise. Rather, the point is that we ought to have those who can never repay us owe us. This is not to lord it over them, but rather, it is to teach us not to require the repayment of everything. We give to those who cannot repay us because it is no longer a gift if we have been repaid for it.
Jesus, as a gift Himself, represents the way in which gifts do NOT need to be financially estimable. "God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son" (John 3:16). What monetary value is the crucifixion of Jesus? How does one calculate salvation? Is there a special box on our tax forms for the gift of Grace? One cannot put a price tag on a human life, especially if that life happens to be God become man. Thus, we see that God demonstrates this gift form best of all, for no amount of money can be equivalent to the gift of Jesus.
We see in Jesus, then, the ultimate, and true, gift. In Jesus' death, He gave us something that He could receive no personal recognition for. While we now venerate and worship Jesus, we cannot personally thank Him, and even as he hung on the cross, he received not so much as an expression of gratitude. Rather, he received scorn and abuse from most, and, at best, the weeping and wailing of a few. He also gave us something we can never pay back the "gift of death." Jesus died for us, and we cannot, in turn, die for Jesus in the same way. Jesus' death provides for us. The best we can do, in turn, is to die in His name, though it does nothing personally for Him, for He is already saved and is already risen (however, in the case of the martyrs, if it comes down to dying for Him and denying Him, much theology suggests right relation with Christ requires not denying Him). Finally, as previously mentioned, there is no monetary value one can fix for the Passion, death and resurrection.
Thus, if I might leave but one thing with you for this Christmas season, and indeed, for all year around, it's that the true meaning of Christmas is not found in the manger, nor the jolly red-suited saint and especially not in the public exchange of items of equal value. Rather, the true meaning of Christmas lies in Christ's ultimate gift for us, a gift of death and life, a gift that we can never repay and a gift that we can never thank Him enough for.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Nihilism vs Mysticism (revisited)
This piece probably should have been written in September or October at the latest. Two months ago, a 35 year-old man dressed in all white on Yom Kippur, walked up the stairs of Harvard Memorial Church shot himself in the temple with a silver revolver in front of a group of tourists. This, however, was not some sort of spectacle or art piece. It was, in fact, a statement, but it was a statement that concluded his 1905 page Magnum Opus, a book he entitled Suicide Note. Essentially, the piece is a Nihilistic anthem, an explanation of why the world is absurd and why life is not worth living.
I find myself resonating with his words. I feel he found a truth. In that, I admire him. However, what I find tragic is not that he felt this way, but that while he found a truth, he did not find the truth.
The truth he found was follows thusly. He argued that if all value systems (moral theories, philosophies and religions) are equally plausible, than none have precedence. If none have precedence, then all are equally right, and just as equally wrong. If all have equal value to them, then there is no single truth and every attempt to explain life worth is just as wrong as any other. If this is the case, then life has no real inherent value. Thus, there is no value in actually living and the only truth comes in not living.
I find his reasoning and his logic completely valid. However, where he and I would differ is that I reject his first claim. I don't think all value systems are equal. As a Catholic and as a Theologian, I think that some (particularly Christian theologies) have more precedence over others. Thus, my argument for the value of human life stems from a Christian understanding of life, salvation, faith, hope, the eschaton and God's Providence.
Both his position and mine are very controversial positions to take today. Very few people today would agree with him in saying that human life is devoid of intrinsic value, but similarly, the upper echelon of society would also reject my premise that human value lies in our relation to God. The sister of Mitchell Heisman, the suicide, said that had she known her brother was intending to commit suicide, she would have tried to convince him otherwise. She would have tried to convince him to make his own value for life. This is a position I find that many people take up today. She went on to admit, however, that he probably knew she would do that and thus never told her. Heisman's choice was not made because nobody had tried to convince him to make value of his life. Rather, it was the ultimate realization that making value for oneself is lying. This would be well for many, but his goal was to find truth, and accepting a lie for truth would not have satisfied him. He had come to the critical Nihilism vs Mysticism moment, and found that the competition of differing mysticisms left him with only the choice of abject Nihilism.
At this point, I would like to try to reconstruct how it is that a position like Heisman's becomes possible in our modern culture as well as how his sister's position becomes socially acceptable though logically absurd.
Heisman noted the pluralism of value systems. In our post-Reformation, post-Enlightenment, globalized society, there is almost no end to the value systems appropriated by people around us. In Medieval Europe, all were Catholics, with the exception of the Jews who were relegated to a lower status in society. Even post-Reformation, regions generally remained homogenous with a sect rather than accepting multiple religions in the region. Today, in large cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles we often encounter on a daily basis people who are Protestant, Orthodox, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, and even Taoist. People follow Kant's Universal Law or Utilitarianism. There is no end to the systems one can follow, including agnosticism and atheism, arguably non-systems (which, in itself, makes them systems, though not very systematic).
Furthermore, our society has lost the original sense of value. In place of quality, quantity has become the norm. Rather than speaking of inherency or universality, we have changed our view point to an emphasis on quantity and empiricism. Post-Enlightenment thought has led us to value not only what can be empirically proven, but what is popular. This Age of Democracy that we live in insists that something is right because we say it is. While I have decried the risk in place in this thinking in the last couple pieces, it should suffice to say that today we often think that something can only actually said to be right if there is unanimity, or at least something close to that.
At this point, we have enough to understand the situation. With value pluralism being a reality in our culture as well as the divergence of opinion and adherence to different systems, we wind up in a relativistic culture. The relativistic culture makes the following claim: "There are many ways that people follow for understanding value in their life. A definitive acceptance or rejection of a system would show that it is wrong. Very few systems are widely rejected (such as Satanism or extreme fundamentalism) and very few systems are widely accepted (such as patriotism and rights-based morality), thus most cannot be shown to be either resoundingly right nor resoundingly wrong. Thus, most have equal plausibility and their acceptance or rejection is a matter of mere personal preference."
Many people today live by a credo that mimics or mirrors the previously set out philosophy. Generally, it is the excuse adhered to for doing whatever somebody wishes to do. The excuse is that he or she did not see the act as wrong and the fact that someone else does is merely a matter of the value systems they both accept and reject. This eliminates universal right and wrong except in extreme cases (such as rape, and murder). However, this is a bad ethic. No good (not in the sense of morally good but in the sense of reasonable or rational) ethicist has ever taken a relativist stance, not even the antichristian Friedrich Nietzsche. "Pure relativism" is a sham, a cop-out for hedonism. It is the new opiate of the people--an seemingly rational philosophy that allows people to do what they please with no dire consequence.
Heisman realized that relativism is a sham. Perhaps we might declare him one of the few pure relativists. He plainly saw that if all systems have equally viable claims to truth, then there is no real truth and life has no real value except for a lie. The tragedy of Mitchell Hesiman was not that he did not understand the value of life as much as it was that he understood what few other relativists have the courage to admit--that if all is equal, then all is valueless.
This, then, is where I assert the value of Christianity. Though this is deserving of an entire apologetic, suffice it to say for now that even this claim is a difficult one to make. The Catholic Church, since Vatican II, has tried to acknowledge the inherent value of other value systems, but at the same time it has always maintained that it solely has claim to predominance. One might ask, "What gives you the right?" The simple answer to that is that someone NEEDS to claim that right. A look at apologetics, including Ss Thomas Aquinas and Augustine and Blessed John Cardinal Newman, will answer this question better than I can or will, but the point is that IF no one does claim the right, then, rationally, logically, we are forced to make the same tragic conclusion that Mitchell Heisman made.
I find myself resonating with his words. I feel he found a truth. In that, I admire him. However, what I find tragic is not that he felt this way, but that while he found a truth, he did not find the truth.
The truth he found was follows thusly. He argued that if all value systems (moral theories, philosophies and religions) are equally plausible, than none have precedence. If none have precedence, then all are equally right, and just as equally wrong. If all have equal value to them, then there is no single truth and every attempt to explain life worth is just as wrong as any other. If this is the case, then life has no real inherent value. Thus, there is no value in actually living and the only truth comes in not living.
I find his reasoning and his logic completely valid. However, where he and I would differ is that I reject his first claim. I don't think all value systems are equal. As a Catholic and as a Theologian, I think that some (particularly Christian theologies) have more precedence over others. Thus, my argument for the value of human life stems from a Christian understanding of life, salvation, faith, hope, the eschaton and God's Providence.
Both his position and mine are very controversial positions to take today. Very few people today would agree with him in saying that human life is devoid of intrinsic value, but similarly, the upper echelon of society would also reject my premise that human value lies in our relation to God. The sister of Mitchell Heisman, the suicide, said that had she known her brother was intending to commit suicide, she would have tried to convince him otherwise. She would have tried to convince him to make his own value for life. This is a position I find that many people take up today. She went on to admit, however, that he probably knew she would do that and thus never told her. Heisman's choice was not made because nobody had tried to convince him to make value of his life. Rather, it was the ultimate realization that making value for oneself is lying. This would be well for many, but his goal was to find truth, and accepting a lie for truth would not have satisfied him. He had come to the critical Nihilism vs Mysticism moment, and found that the competition of differing mysticisms left him with only the choice of abject Nihilism.
At this point, I would like to try to reconstruct how it is that a position like Heisman's becomes possible in our modern culture as well as how his sister's position becomes socially acceptable though logically absurd.
Heisman noted the pluralism of value systems. In our post-Reformation, post-Enlightenment, globalized society, there is almost no end to the value systems appropriated by people around us. In Medieval Europe, all were Catholics, with the exception of the Jews who were relegated to a lower status in society. Even post-Reformation, regions generally remained homogenous with a sect rather than accepting multiple religions in the region. Today, in large cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles we often encounter on a daily basis people who are Protestant, Orthodox, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, and even Taoist. People follow Kant's Universal Law or Utilitarianism. There is no end to the systems one can follow, including agnosticism and atheism, arguably non-systems (which, in itself, makes them systems, though not very systematic).
Furthermore, our society has lost the original sense of value. In place of quality, quantity has become the norm. Rather than speaking of inherency or universality, we have changed our view point to an emphasis on quantity and empiricism. Post-Enlightenment thought has led us to value not only what can be empirically proven, but what is popular. This Age of Democracy that we live in insists that something is right because we say it is. While I have decried the risk in place in this thinking in the last couple pieces, it should suffice to say that today we often think that something can only actually said to be right if there is unanimity, or at least something close to that.
At this point, we have enough to understand the situation. With value pluralism being a reality in our culture as well as the divergence of opinion and adherence to different systems, we wind up in a relativistic culture. The relativistic culture makes the following claim: "There are many ways that people follow for understanding value in their life. A definitive acceptance or rejection of a system would show that it is wrong. Very few systems are widely rejected (such as Satanism or extreme fundamentalism) and very few systems are widely accepted (such as patriotism and rights-based morality), thus most cannot be shown to be either resoundingly right nor resoundingly wrong. Thus, most have equal plausibility and their acceptance or rejection is a matter of mere personal preference."
Many people today live by a credo that mimics or mirrors the previously set out philosophy. Generally, it is the excuse adhered to for doing whatever somebody wishes to do. The excuse is that he or she did not see the act as wrong and the fact that someone else does is merely a matter of the value systems they both accept and reject. This eliminates universal right and wrong except in extreme cases (such as rape, and murder). However, this is a bad ethic. No good (not in the sense of morally good but in the sense of reasonable or rational) ethicist has ever taken a relativist stance, not even the antichristian Friedrich Nietzsche. "Pure relativism" is a sham, a cop-out for hedonism. It is the new opiate of the people--an seemingly rational philosophy that allows people to do what they please with no dire consequence.
Heisman realized that relativism is a sham. Perhaps we might declare him one of the few pure relativists. He plainly saw that if all systems have equally viable claims to truth, then there is no real truth and life has no real value except for a lie. The tragedy of Mitchell Hesiman was not that he did not understand the value of life as much as it was that he understood what few other relativists have the courage to admit--that if all is equal, then all is valueless.
This, then, is where I assert the value of Christianity. Though this is deserving of an entire apologetic, suffice it to say for now that even this claim is a difficult one to make. The Catholic Church, since Vatican II, has tried to acknowledge the inherent value of other value systems, but at the same time it has always maintained that it solely has claim to predominance. One might ask, "What gives you the right?" The simple answer to that is that someone NEEDS to claim that right. A look at apologetics, including Ss Thomas Aquinas and Augustine and Blessed John Cardinal Newman, will answer this question better than I can or will, but the point is that IF no one does claim the right, then, rationally, logically, we are forced to make the same tragic conclusion that Mitchell Heisman made.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Chaos, Anarchy, and the contemporary world
It occurs to me that the term "Anarchy" has become synonymous with "wrongful disorder." It is seen not as simple disorder, the result of which can be something grand such as the American Revolution (certainly disorder) or struggles for civil rights. Rather, "Anarchy" is viewed as being inherently pernicious--it has been given an ontological polemical attribute. Other words that have such distinction are "defamation," "murder," and "robbery"--words which, as part of their definition, imply that they are wrong.
It is my contention, however, that 1) anarchy is not inherently wrong 2) what we often mean by "Anarchy" is "chaos," 3) this polemical label is, in large part, a product of our modern age and 4) finally, I would like to explain why anarchy might not be too bad.
What I would like to clarify first is what "Anarchy" means. A common definition is "lack of government" or rather "lack of order." This latter definition is certainly false. It is easy to understand "Anarchy" as lack of order since the prefix "a" in Greek often means "no" (such as Atheist, and Apathy) and "arch" often means "government" (monARCH, oligARCH). I would like to note, however that "arch" does not mean "crat" (theoCRAT, demoCRAT, aristoCRAT), which rightly means "ruling." Anarchy does not imply no ruling feature or sensibility, rather it means no central body determining what one does. In its purest form, anarchy means what democracy tries to mean, that is the people decide. In its most adulterated form, it means something like chaos.
Before I get to that part, however, let me first explain the position of a right-minded anarchist. The pure anarchist is not a deviant bent on the destruction of all society and culture. Early anarchists were often affiliated with Marxism, though not all have been. Essentially, the anarchist feels that the government is more interested in self-preservation and self-furthering than it is with the people. It follows the mantra "power corrupts" and the pure anarchist understands why Communism failed in the Soviet Union--because the party forgot the people it had originally promised to save. In this way, the anarchist is often more of a realist. He knows that campaign promises are idle talk and that as much as politicians discuss how to help the poor, they deliberate twice as much about increasing their own salaries and spend countless hours on the road fund-raising in order to maintain their position of prominence. In this way, many Americans today would agree with the original position of the anarchist, however, they disagree where the anarchist decides that having no government to lord over the people is better. This will be addressed more later on.
We often think of anarchy as "chaos" because we understand government as bringing about order. When we think "Anarchy" we think of a number of scenarios 1) the lawlessness of the French Revolution (or even the Soviet Revolution), 2) primeval tribal warfare and 3) post-apocalyptic social Darwinism. If we look at these three examples, we'll see why what we mean is chaos and not really anarchy. In example one, we need to realize that though, technically, revolution is a state of anarchy (because there is, quite literally, no one governing), it is only a transitional state. In the example of the French Revolution, the most gruesome and ghastliest part of the Revolution was the Reign of Terror, which was not anarchy in the least, but rather tyranny. In the second example, we ought to realize that establishing one's society is not really anarchy, and that tribal warfare has not really gone away. Rather, instead of killing a few men with bows and arrows, our advanced government has given us the ability to kill hundreds of thousands at an instant, which leads us to the third case. This, once again, is the crow magnon sense of anarchy. People inevitably in science-fiction, resort to forming tribes once again and the struggle to survive is only a primordial drive (that we still have today). In the first situation, what we fear is that the wrong people will seize power, so we wish to hold on to a government which we have a sort of control over (however Democracy should not be considered to be infallible, as the National Socialist Party was popularly elected in Germany). In the last two examples, what we are afraid of is a lack of resources necessary for survival. In a very real way, this is what a lot of human drama is still about today and people are shot on the streets of Boston, New York and Los Angeles everyday for resources. What we are really afraid of is the utter chaos of the Reign of Terror and the utter chaos of instability of resources.
Now, it must be understood that anarchy has been feared for literally thousands of years. One only needs to read the Book of Judges in the Bible, which most scholars date to pre-exilic Israel (around 800 BC), wherein the lack of a governing body ultimately resorts to the lawlessness of a community gang raping a man's wife, and the resulting near-genocide of the tribe of Benjamin (Judges 19-21). However, though society has had this polemic against lack of governance, it must also be remembered that the rest of the Old Testament (TeNaK) warns against the abuse of power of kings.
The modern polemic against anarchy, as near as I can tell, begins with the writings of Hobbes, realistically. Thomas Hobbes wrote that people were inherently evil and needed government to protect them from themselves. This thought has been very influential in political science. Even his contemporary, John Locke, who took a much more moderate and optimistic approach, stated that though people were probably good, government was meant to serve the people. What is often forgotten, however, is that he also advocated revolution when the government fails (a very influential position for the Founding Fathers). Since Hobbes and Locke, governments have attained enough power to incur the nationalism that created the First World War, per Hobbes, and have been subject to many coups and revolutions, per Locke. In America, however, the note has been Nationalism since early on. Even when many states sought to reassert their own power in the War of Northern Aggression, the Union was reunited with the result of even greater governmental authority as well as the beneficial result of the end of chattel slavery. During the World Wars and the Cold War Era, patriotism was of utmost importance, and loyalty to the government we have was absolutely demanded. Even as the situation became more acceptable to be critical of the government, we had the events of September 11, 2001, which brought back the need for a strong national ethos. So it has been that ever since the late 1860s dissent has not been an acceptable option in this country.
Part of this has been the very propaganda spread by our own government, and much of this has been reinforced by national emergencies. Worrying about the invasion of the Japanese, the Russians or the Terrorists brings with it a certain amount of need for security, found in our government. Here Hobbes and Locke are proven right, and their position of anti-anarchy is only more strengthened. Being "unAmerican" has at times (possibly even today) been tantamount to being a cannibal or a Satanist.
Furthermore, the image of anarchists has been tainted by the counter-culturalists. The Sex Pistols' song "Anarchy in the U.K." became, for years, the anthem by which "punks" and other subversive, non-conformists rallied under. The chant "Anarchy" has been lifted high in punk concerts and other events which the more established and sophisticated of the populace see as pernicious and uncouth. Thus, since the 1970s, the very notion of anarchy has been taken up by those who incur a negative reaction from much of the population while at the same time being demonized by Cold War Era nationalism.
Finally, I would like to make my claim for the virtues (if I might be so bold) to be found in anarchy. Some of my favorite anarchists include Dorothy Day, Ammon Hennacy, and Daniel Berrigan. All of these people have been involved in the Catholic Worker Movement, a movement which seeks to eliminate poverty, sees the inherent worth of people, and stands against violence. None of these people ought to be considered the antichrist. I would argue the contrary. Dorothy Day was one of the founders of the movement and many have called for her canonization since she died in 1985. Ammon Hennacy, though he left the Church, picketed with the migrant workers in the 60s, often worked manual labor, put his two daughters through college, and took care of many of the poor in Salt Lake City for ten years. Daniel Berrigan, though most controversial, was a priest, and worked hard to fight war (often at the cost of damaging property) as well as set up his fair share of Houses of Hospitality. All of these people were for order, all of them were for discipline, but none of them were for the abuses that they saw the government bringing.
Additionally, looking at a few things government has done for us is in part helpful. With the exception of World War II, none of the major wars we have been involved in over the last 100 years have been necessary. We lost Vietnam, we're still in Afghanistan, we defended Saddam Hussein then ten years later deposed him and were involved in a war only about national pride (World War I). Additionally, even though health care has recently been re-evaluated, there is still no "public option." Roads are in disrepair and families are starving while congress men and women have multiple homes. People who are normally friends get in heated, and sometimes friendship damaging, arguments about why one thinks the president is doing a good job but the other disagrees. Politicians spend time that could be used to combat real issues campaigning. Congress itself votes along party lines, not on conscience lines, effectively creating a veritable deadlock. Since the development of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles, and especially both our and the Soviet Union's stockpiling of them, we now have to face the very real threat that we could all very well die at a moment's notice. Tax cuts to the rich ensure that they get richer while the Middle Class and the poor have to bear the brunt of that burden.
Now try to imagine a world of anarchy. Without inserting the notion of chaos let me define: You will live according to your conscience, and you will do what's in your best interest. We often think that government dictates our morality, but the truth is that it does not. The rules that we agree with, we follow. If speed limits were an issue of morality (which they are, in reality), we would be a lot more hesitant to speed. The real place we get our morality is from those we most closely associate with--our parents, church leaders, other relatives and friends. If we break the law, it is likely because "we hang out with the wrong friends." If we are polite drivers, it is likely because our parents or teachers taught us to be polite. If we take care of the poor, it might be because a sermon had a great influence on us.
Government, in reality, does two things: 1) it enforces a certain brand of morality through the law and 2) it trivializes morality by making it an issue of punishment. Without government, we would not have these. In the first place, our idea of morality would be different. We wouldn't think that allowing people from a certain region come move near us because of opportunity constituted a grave injustice, nor would we think that taking care of the poor and elderly is solved by our paying taxes. We would have to come to grips with a new, more pure, brand of morality--one that transcends the legalism of politics. Secondly, we would have to follow morality for new reasons. We would not shoplift, not because we are afraid of being caught and being arrested but because we feel inherently it is wrong, or that we would not like that to happen to us, or that God would not like it. The speed we would drive would not be determined by our sense of whether we could avoid being pulled over, but rather by what we thought was safe. In short, we would live morally because we found some greater reason in doing it (whether it is religious, deontological, happiness or fairness).
For a more practical example, let us examine murder. It is easy to say that without government, everyone would go about killing other people. To begin with, this happens already. Furthermore, one of the excuses for using the death penalty is that it has deterrent force. Were this the case, after the first or second, or even third person was killed for murder, there would be no more executions. Unfortunately, the truth is that we still do execute people, that people still do commit murder. Death Penalty is no more of a deterrent than is life in prison. On top of this, people don't kill others for the same reason they don't violate all sorts of other moral codes. Either they think life itself is sacred, or they are afraid that someone will take vengeance, or they fear the judgment of God, or they just think that it's wrong. Government does not determine right or wrong, it simply determines legal and illegal.
To conclude, in a world of legalism and government, right is determined by numbers. We win a war if we lose fewer people than we need to. We adjust laws if a certain amount of people die. Our lives are merely a number that has no real significance by itself. In an anarchistic society, persons can truly be appreciated for who they are. We follow the Golden Rule. We adhere to Natural Law. We take care of people for who they are AND we don't have to worry about the threat of nuclear devastation or of paying the salaries of people whose concerns are not our own.
It is my contention, however, that 1) anarchy is not inherently wrong 2) what we often mean by "Anarchy" is "chaos," 3) this polemical label is, in large part, a product of our modern age and 4) finally, I would like to explain why anarchy might not be too bad.
What I would like to clarify first is what "Anarchy" means. A common definition is "lack of government" or rather "lack of order." This latter definition is certainly false. It is easy to understand "Anarchy" as lack of order since the prefix "a" in Greek often means "no" (such as Atheist, and Apathy) and "arch" often means "government" (monARCH, oligARCH). I would like to note, however that "arch" does not mean "crat" (theoCRAT, demoCRAT, aristoCRAT), which rightly means "ruling." Anarchy does not imply no ruling feature or sensibility, rather it means no central body determining what one does. In its purest form, anarchy means what democracy tries to mean, that is the people decide. In its most adulterated form, it means something like chaos.
Before I get to that part, however, let me first explain the position of a right-minded anarchist. The pure anarchist is not a deviant bent on the destruction of all society and culture. Early anarchists were often affiliated with Marxism, though not all have been. Essentially, the anarchist feels that the government is more interested in self-preservation and self-furthering than it is with the people. It follows the mantra "power corrupts" and the pure anarchist understands why Communism failed in the Soviet Union--because the party forgot the people it had originally promised to save. In this way, the anarchist is often more of a realist. He knows that campaign promises are idle talk and that as much as politicians discuss how to help the poor, they deliberate twice as much about increasing their own salaries and spend countless hours on the road fund-raising in order to maintain their position of prominence. In this way, many Americans today would agree with the original position of the anarchist, however, they disagree where the anarchist decides that having no government to lord over the people is better. This will be addressed more later on.
We often think of anarchy as "chaos" because we understand government as bringing about order. When we think "Anarchy" we think of a number of scenarios 1) the lawlessness of the French Revolution (or even the Soviet Revolution), 2) primeval tribal warfare and 3) post-apocalyptic social Darwinism. If we look at these three examples, we'll see why what we mean is chaos and not really anarchy. In example one, we need to realize that though, technically, revolution is a state of anarchy (because there is, quite literally, no one governing), it is only a transitional state. In the example of the French Revolution, the most gruesome and ghastliest part of the Revolution was the Reign of Terror, which was not anarchy in the least, but rather tyranny. In the second example, we ought to realize that establishing one's society is not really anarchy, and that tribal warfare has not really gone away. Rather, instead of killing a few men with bows and arrows, our advanced government has given us the ability to kill hundreds of thousands at an instant, which leads us to the third case. This, once again, is the crow magnon sense of anarchy. People inevitably in science-fiction, resort to forming tribes once again and the struggle to survive is only a primordial drive (that we still have today). In the first situation, what we fear is that the wrong people will seize power, so we wish to hold on to a government which we have a sort of control over (however Democracy should not be considered to be infallible, as the National Socialist Party was popularly elected in Germany). In the last two examples, what we are afraid of is a lack of resources necessary for survival. In a very real way, this is what a lot of human drama is still about today and people are shot on the streets of Boston, New York and Los Angeles everyday for resources. What we are really afraid of is the utter chaos of the Reign of Terror and the utter chaos of instability of resources.
Now, it must be understood that anarchy has been feared for literally thousands of years. One only needs to read the Book of Judges in the Bible, which most scholars date to pre-exilic Israel (around 800 BC), wherein the lack of a governing body ultimately resorts to the lawlessness of a community gang raping a man's wife, and the resulting near-genocide of the tribe of Benjamin (Judges 19-21). However, though society has had this polemic against lack of governance, it must also be remembered that the rest of the Old Testament (TeNaK) warns against the abuse of power of kings.
The modern polemic against anarchy, as near as I can tell, begins with the writings of Hobbes, realistically. Thomas Hobbes wrote that people were inherently evil and needed government to protect them from themselves. This thought has been very influential in political science. Even his contemporary, John Locke, who took a much more moderate and optimistic approach, stated that though people were probably good, government was meant to serve the people. What is often forgotten, however, is that he also advocated revolution when the government fails (a very influential position for the Founding Fathers). Since Hobbes and Locke, governments have attained enough power to incur the nationalism that created the First World War, per Hobbes, and have been subject to many coups and revolutions, per Locke. In America, however, the note has been Nationalism since early on. Even when many states sought to reassert their own power in the War of Northern Aggression, the Union was reunited with the result of even greater governmental authority as well as the beneficial result of the end of chattel slavery. During the World Wars and the Cold War Era, patriotism was of utmost importance, and loyalty to the government we have was absolutely demanded. Even as the situation became more acceptable to be critical of the government, we had the events of September 11, 2001, which brought back the need for a strong national ethos. So it has been that ever since the late 1860s dissent has not been an acceptable option in this country.
Part of this has been the very propaganda spread by our own government, and much of this has been reinforced by national emergencies. Worrying about the invasion of the Japanese, the Russians or the Terrorists brings with it a certain amount of need for security, found in our government. Here Hobbes and Locke are proven right, and their position of anti-anarchy is only more strengthened. Being "unAmerican" has at times (possibly even today) been tantamount to being a cannibal or a Satanist.
Furthermore, the image of anarchists has been tainted by the counter-culturalists. The Sex Pistols' song "Anarchy in the U.K." became, for years, the anthem by which "punks" and other subversive, non-conformists rallied under. The chant "Anarchy" has been lifted high in punk concerts and other events which the more established and sophisticated of the populace see as pernicious and uncouth. Thus, since the 1970s, the very notion of anarchy has been taken up by those who incur a negative reaction from much of the population while at the same time being demonized by Cold War Era nationalism.
Finally, I would like to make my claim for the virtues (if I might be so bold) to be found in anarchy. Some of my favorite anarchists include Dorothy Day, Ammon Hennacy, and Daniel Berrigan. All of these people have been involved in the Catholic Worker Movement, a movement which seeks to eliminate poverty, sees the inherent worth of people, and stands against violence. None of these people ought to be considered the antichrist. I would argue the contrary. Dorothy Day was one of the founders of the movement and many have called for her canonization since she died in 1985. Ammon Hennacy, though he left the Church, picketed with the migrant workers in the 60s, often worked manual labor, put his two daughters through college, and took care of many of the poor in Salt Lake City for ten years. Daniel Berrigan, though most controversial, was a priest, and worked hard to fight war (often at the cost of damaging property) as well as set up his fair share of Houses of Hospitality. All of these people were for order, all of them were for discipline, but none of them were for the abuses that they saw the government bringing.
Additionally, looking at a few things government has done for us is in part helpful. With the exception of World War II, none of the major wars we have been involved in over the last 100 years have been necessary. We lost Vietnam, we're still in Afghanistan, we defended Saddam Hussein then ten years later deposed him and were involved in a war only about national pride (World War I). Additionally, even though health care has recently been re-evaluated, there is still no "public option." Roads are in disrepair and families are starving while congress men and women have multiple homes. People who are normally friends get in heated, and sometimes friendship damaging, arguments about why one thinks the president is doing a good job but the other disagrees. Politicians spend time that could be used to combat real issues campaigning. Congress itself votes along party lines, not on conscience lines, effectively creating a veritable deadlock. Since the development of Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles, and especially both our and the Soviet Union's stockpiling of them, we now have to face the very real threat that we could all very well die at a moment's notice. Tax cuts to the rich ensure that they get richer while the Middle Class and the poor have to bear the brunt of that burden.
Now try to imagine a world of anarchy. Without inserting the notion of chaos let me define: You will live according to your conscience, and you will do what's in your best interest. We often think that government dictates our morality, but the truth is that it does not. The rules that we agree with, we follow. If speed limits were an issue of morality (which they are, in reality), we would be a lot more hesitant to speed. The real place we get our morality is from those we most closely associate with--our parents, church leaders, other relatives and friends. If we break the law, it is likely because "we hang out with the wrong friends." If we are polite drivers, it is likely because our parents or teachers taught us to be polite. If we take care of the poor, it might be because a sermon had a great influence on us.
Government, in reality, does two things: 1) it enforces a certain brand of morality through the law and 2) it trivializes morality by making it an issue of punishment. Without government, we would not have these. In the first place, our idea of morality would be different. We wouldn't think that allowing people from a certain region come move near us because of opportunity constituted a grave injustice, nor would we think that taking care of the poor and elderly is solved by our paying taxes. We would have to come to grips with a new, more pure, brand of morality--one that transcends the legalism of politics. Secondly, we would have to follow morality for new reasons. We would not shoplift, not because we are afraid of being caught and being arrested but because we feel inherently it is wrong, or that we would not like that to happen to us, or that God would not like it. The speed we would drive would not be determined by our sense of whether we could avoid being pulled over, but rather by what we thought was safe. In short, we would live morally because we found some greater reason in doing it (whether it is religious, deontological, happiness or fairness).
For a more practical example, let us examine murder. It is easy to say that without government, everyone would go about killing other people. To begin with, this happens already. Furthermore, one of the excuses for using the death penalty is that it has deterrent force. Were this the case, after the first or second, or even third person was killed for murder, there would be no more executions. Unfortunately, the truth is that we still do execute people, that people still do commit murder. Death Penalty is no more of a deterrent than is life in prison. On top of this, people don't kill others for the same reason they don't violate all sorts of other moral codes. Either they think life itself is sacred, or they are afraid that someone will take vengeance, or they fear the judgment of God, or they just think that it's wrong. Government does not determine right or wrong, it simply determines legal and illegal.
To conclude, in a world of legalism and government, right is determined by numbers. We win a war if we lose fewer people than we need to. We adjust laws if a certain amount of people die. Our lives are merely a number that has no real significance by itself. In an anarchistic society, persons can truly be appreciated for who they are. We follow the Golden Rule. We adhere to Natural Law. We take care of people for who they are AND we don't have to worry about the threat of nuclear devastation or of paying the salaries of people whose concerns are not our own.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The Modern Pantheon
In an age where "atheism" for once actually means the denial of a theos, of a god, and where people proudly where the moniker, it seems self evident that either one worships a god or doesn't. Of course, the question becomes exacerbated when people ask "Which god? The Christian god? The Jewish god? Allah? One of the Muslim gods?" And while the discussion of monotheism, deism, pantheism, is an interesting subject, that is not the subject of this post.
I do, however, need to treat of pantheism, at least briefly. I was informed some weeks ago by a friend that her husband considers himself a pantheist--that is, seeing God in everything, and everything in God. This is not pantheism, in the traditional sense, but rather universalism. My fear is that people do use "pantheism" in this way, or to say "worshiping all gods," a sort of religious relativistic pluralism. By pantheism, I mean the term that is related to the word "pantheon." By pantheism, I wish to mean worshiping all the approved gods. The pantheon of Rome, for example, included Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury, but it also included the Emperor, and even, according to Acts 17:23, to a certain extent the god of monotheism. These were all culturally and religiously acceptable gods to worship. By religiously, I mean that the official religion of Rome allowed that one could pray to any and all of these gods (at certain times, it was necessary, as with the martyrs not praying to the emperor). The concept of worshiping approved gods will be central to this post.
In contemporary culture, one may rightly belong to a specific religion, say Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Sheikism, Taoism, Shamanism or any other worshiping body one might know of, and we consider this all fine and well. In America, especially, we say that one has a right, and it is a Constitutionally given right. However, there are still a significant number of people who do not consider themselves "religious." This list includes the skeptics, the atheists, the agnostics, the non-active believers, the "spiritualists," the "mystics," the Nihilists, the scientistic, et cetera. While these people may state that they don't participate in worship of a deity, my argument is that they do, and in fact, they often one of the following gods of the modern, or perhaps Post Modern, pantheon.
The first god I wish to mention is the god of mysticism. This is the god of divination, psychics, omens, good luck charms, astrology, and other quasi-mystical things. This correlates to the god Hermes or Mercury in the Greco-Roman pantheons. Today, we don't consider this god to be an actual anthropomorphic deity, but rest assured, many of us do believe in it. For the sake of the post, we'll call her Lady Luck. This is the goddess whom we think magically makes things work. "I didn't wear my lucky socks, that's why the Irish lost!" The realistic correlation of a pair of smelly socks and an entire football team winning is absurd, but we often posit such bad fortunes to our lack of properly divining. "A stranger smiled at me, that must mean I'll do well on my test." Another example of non-correlative, though perhaps coincidental happenings. I shall not beleaguer the issue, but I hope the point is clear.
Similarly, we consort her twin sister, Lady Fate. This is how "true loves" find each other. It isn't a matter of compatibility or openness to another person, but "the forces of the universe" bring it together. Lady Fate is considered to be a stronger deity than her sister, and is attributed with "if it's meant to be, it will be." There is a sense, tied with her, that we are incapable of forging our own experiences or controlling them. She is associated with Stoic-like people, the unambitious, and those who want follow Lady Fate. One might think of the Muses or the Fates (or the Norns if you follow Norse mythology).
Next we have the god of Chaos. The position of Chaos is randomness, unintelligibility, meaninglessness, Nihilism, disruption, the void, confusion, depression et cetera. This god may have the most followers up till now (though one should not pretend he cannot worship more than one of these deities). The Post Modern age has given rise to paintings, literature, philosophy, cinema, television, sculptures, music and many other media that pay homage to Chaos. The Existentialists hinted at him, but many atheists and agnostics also follow him. The Nihilists especially follow him. The main thing that this god conveys is a sense of confusion at meaning and a loss of hope for reality. One might think of any number of gods of Chaos from ancient pantheons: Loki, Hades, Pluto, and others.
In opposition to this god, we have the god of scientific certitude. Scientism is the position that many skeptics take up, claiming that nothing but what can be positively proven is worth talking about. There is no value to anything that cannot be quantitatively measured. This god, additionally, often exhibits a very jealous quality, demanding absolute adherence. Note well, though, that scientists may be Christian or Jew or Muslim, but they will not grant Science their religious devotion. Their is an ironic quality of this god, however, in that often it demands adherence to principles that have not yet been proven. I don't mean the Big Bang or Evolution, but rather String Theory, Multiple Universe Theory, and, of course, time travel. The only equivalent I might think of is Athena, though this analogy is incomplete since Athenian wisdom is not the same as Post-Enlightenment science.
Additionally, we have the goddess of Materialism. This goddess is worshiped by capitalists, economists, aesthetes, the rich and famous, and business men and women. Her rewards are the most apparent. Devotion to her brings real material wealth. One may devote her life to learning to make money, with priestess-like devotion, and so long as she's a worthy priestess, she will be richly rewarded. Priest-like discipline, found in investment bankers and stock brokers, brings its rewards, and if the market goes badly, it's likely that the goddess needs to be appeased. This consumerist god has no parallel in the ancient world, as capitalism is a modern phenomenon.
Then comes the god of Excess. This is the Bacchic god of college students, the famous and scandalous, alcoholics, narcotics, gluttons, and any other hedonistic devotee. Parties are the common form of worship, and those (I consider myself one of them, to my detriment) who follow this cult find themselves looking for chances to worship as often as possible. Often, devotion to this god causes disruption of family, legal consequences and humiliation. This god is the obvious parallel of Bacchus and Dionysus.
Finally comes the god of Patriotism. This god has more voice than any other god does. This is the god that tells us that the interest of the United States comes before our ability to help any other country. This is the god that tells us that if we do not support the war, we hate our troops. This is the god who tells us that if we don't vote, we have no voice to protest. His adherents are legion. And the worst part is that this god claims more adherents to other faiths, such as Christianity, Judaism and Islam, encouraging them to confuse their country obligations with their religious duties. The phrase "In God we trust" on our currency, for example, is an example of how Patriotism has overcome our Christian, Jewish, or Muslim sensibilities to tell us that being a Christian and a Patriot are synonymous. This god says civil disobedience, pacifism, and protest are all despicable, and that no good Christian should ever do so. This is the god of propaganda. This is the god of politics. This is the god of "American tradition." This is the most noxious worship, as it defines all our other practices. Consider, for example, the Messianic way people thought of President Obama's election, though as a president he has really done about average. This is not an attack on him, but rather a question of the idolization of political figures and national pride.
This concludes the pantheon. While we might not actually profess faith in any of these "gods," nor pray to them, we do pay homage to them (in the form of wearing symbols, devoting our careers to them, and other practices of religious devotion). There are undoubtedly more gods the average American, or simply Westerner pays devotion to, without thinking about. This is simply a brief summary. And while for an atheist or agnostic, devotion to these gods might be fine, if we consider ourselves monotheists, we need to seriously re-evaluate the religious devotion we pay to various things. As a Catholic, for example, if the United States declared war on the Vatican, what would my reaction be? Rather than trying to discern God's will, am I trying to divine, to find omens or just trust that the stars will align just right for me? Do I spend time trying to earn money at the cost of anything I hold sacred?
Perhaps the problem with the new pantheism arises from the rise of Christendom. After all, early Christians had to consider their faith in life and death terms, but what do we sacrifice for it today? Or do we rather offer up sacrifices to things other than what we profess to believe?
I do, however, need to treat of pantheism, at least briefly. I was informed some weeks ago by a friend that her husband considers himself a pantheist--that is, seeing God in everything, and everything in God. This is not pantheism, in the traditional sense, but rather universalism. My fear is that people do use "pantheism" in this way, or to say "worshiping all gods," a sort of religious relativistic pluralism. By pantheism, I mean the term that is related to the word "pantheon." By pantheism, I wish to mean worshiping all the approved gods. The pantheon of Rome, for example, included Jupiter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury, but it also included the Emperor, and even, according to Acts 17:23, to a certain extent the god of monotheism. These were all culturally and religiously acceptable gods to worship. By religiously, I mean that the official religion of Rome allowed that one could pray to any and all of these gods (at certain times, it was necessary, as with the martyrs not praying to the emperor). The concept of worshiping approved gods will be central to this post.
In contemporary culture, one may rightly belong to a specific religion, say Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Sheikism, Taoism, Shamanism or any other worshiping body one might know of, and we consider this all fine and well. In America, especially, we say that one has a right, and it is a Constitutionally given right. However, there are still a significant number of people who do not consider themselves "religious." This list includes the skeptics, the atheists, the agnostics, the non-active believers, the "spiritualists," the "mystics," the Nihilists, the scientistic, et cetera. While these people may state that they don't participate in worship of a deity, my argument is that they do, and in fact, they often one of the following gods of the modern, or perhaps Post Modern, pantheon.
The first god I wish to mention is the god of mysticism. This is the god of divination, psychics, omens, good luck charms, astrology, and other quasi-mystical things. This correlates to the god Hermes or Mercury in the Greco-Roman pantheons. Today, we don't consider this god to be an actual anthropomorphic deity, but rest assured, many of us do believe in it. For the sake of the post, we'll call her Lady Luck. This is the goddess whom we think magically makes things work. "I didn't wear my lucky socks, that's why the Irish lost!" The realistic correlation of a pair of smelly socks and an entire football team winning is absurd, but we often posit such bad fortunes to our lack of properly divining. "A stranger smiled at me, that must mean I'll do well on my test." Another example of non-correlative, though perhaps coincidental happenings. I shall not beleaguer the issue, but I hope the point is clear.
Similarly, we consort her twin sister, Lady Fate. This is how "true loves" find each other. It isn't a matter of compatibility or openness to another person, but "the forces of the universe" bring it together. Lady Fate is considered to be a stronger deity than her sister, and is attributed with "if it's meant to be, it will be." There is a sense, tied with her, that we are incapable of forging our own experiences or controlling them. She is associated with Stoic-like people, the unambitious, and those who want follow Lady Fate. One might think of the Muses or the Fates (or the Norns if you follow Norse mythology).
Next we have the god of Chaos. The position of Chaos is randomness, unintelligibility, meaninglessness, Nihilism, disruption, the void, confusion, depression et cetera. This god may have the most followers up till now (though one should not pretend he cannot worship more than one of these deities). The Post Modern age has given rise to paintings, literature, philosophy, cinema, television, sculptures, music and many other media that pay homage to Chaos. The Existentialists hinted at him, but many atheists and agnostics also follow him. The Nihilists especially follow him. The main thing that this god conveys is a sense of confusion at meaning and a loss of hope for reality. One might think of any number of gods of Chaos from ancient pantheons: Loki, Hades, Pluto, and others.
In opposition to this god, we have the god of scientific certitude. Scientism is the position that many skeptics take up, claiming that nothing but what can be positively proven is worth talking about. There is no value to anything that cannot be quantitatively measured. This god, additionally, often exhibits a very jealous quality, demanding absolute adherence. Note well, though, that scientists may be Christian or Jew or Muslim, but they will not grant Science their religious devotion. Their is an ironic quality of this god, however, in that often it demands adherence to principles that have not yet been proven. I don't mean the Big Bang or Evolution, but rather String Theory, Multiple Universe Theory, and, of course, time travel. The only equivalent I might think of is Athena, though this analogy is incomplete since Athenian wisdom is not the same as Post-Enlightenment science.
Additionally, we have the goddess of Materialism. This goddess is worshiped by capitalists, economists, aesthetes, the rich and famous, and business men and women. Her rewards are the most apparent. Devotion to her brings real material wealth. One may devote her life to learning to make money, with priestess-like devotion, and so long as she's a worthy priestess, she will be richly rewarded. Priest-like discipline, found in investment bankers and stock brokers, brings its rewards, and if the market goes badly, it's likely that the goddess needs to be appeased. This consumerist god has no parallel in the ancient world, as capitalism is a modern phenomenon.
Then comes the god of Excess. This is the Bacchic god of college students, the famous and scandalous, alcoholics, narcotics, gluttons, and any other hedonistic devotee. Parties are the common form of worship, and those (I consider myself one of them, to my detriment) who follow this cult find themselves looking for chances to worship as often as possible. Often, devotion to this god causes disruption of family, legal consequences and humiliation. This god is the obvious parallel of Bacchus and Dionysus.
Finally comes the god of Patriotism. This god has more voice than any other god does. This is the god that tells us that the interest of the United States comes before our ability to help any other country. This is the god that tells us that if we do not support the war, we hate our troops. This is the god who tells us that if we don't vote, we have no voice to protest. His adherents are legion. And the worst part is that this god claims more adherents to other faiths, such as Christianity, Judaism and Islam, encouraging them to confuse their country obligations with their religious duties. The phrase "In God we trust" on our currency, for example, is an example of how Patriotism has overcome our Christian, Jewish, or Muslim sensibilities to tell us that being a Christian and a Patriot are synonymous. This god says civil disobedience, pacifism, and protest are all despicable, and that no good Christian should ever do so. This is the god of propaganda. This is the god of politics. This is the god of "American tradition." This is the most noxious worship, as it defines all our other practices. Consider, for example, the Messianic way people thought of President Obama's election, though as a president he has really done about average. This is not an attack on him, but rather a question of the idolization of political figures and national pride.
This concludes the pantheon. While we might not actually profess faith in any of these "gods," nor pray to them, we do pay homage to them (in the form of wearing symbols, devoting our careers to them, and other practices of religious devotion). There are undoubtedly more gods the average American, or simply Westerner pays devotion to, without thinking about. This is simply a brief summary. And while for an atheist or agnostic, devotion to these gods might be fine, if we consider ourselves monotheists, we need to seriously re-evaluate the religious devotion we pay to various things. As a Catholic, for example, if the United States declared war on the Vatican, what would my reaction be? Rather than trying to discern God's will, am I trying to divine, to find omens or just trust that the stars will align just right for me? Do I spend time trying to earn money at the cost of anything I hold sacred?
Perhaps the problem with the new pantheism arises from the rise of Christendom. After all, early Christians had to consider their faith in life and death terms, but what do we sacrifice for it today? Or do we rather offer up sacrifices to things other than what we profess to believe?
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