Some thoughts on justice, political action and individual choice

I've just finished reading G.A. Cohen's If You're an Egalitarian, How Come You're so Rich? The book is quite interesting, and it covered much more than I can possibly discuss here. So I'm going to limit myself to the topics that tie into what I've been mulling over recently, namely, government coercion and individual justice. Cohen did bring up some interesting thoughts on what the nature of God would be like and why he might have created us, along with some discussions on religious belief in general (specifically the effect of growing up in a certain denomination), but that's for you to read about if you want. I apologize in advance for the ridiculously long post, but I hope you can bear with me as I work through my thoughts on this... so here it goes.

Cohen distinguishes between three different strategies for justice, namely the Marx, Rawls and Christian strategies. Under the Marx conception, justice in the form of equality is an inevitability that will be born out of history (so to speak). Cohen spends a good deal of time challenging the Marx thesis, and he shows (quite convincingly) that equality will not come about on its own. Several lectures within the book were dedicated to showing why this is the case, but for the sake of brevity I'll leave it at this: equality is not inevitable, so the Marx strategy is not going to be sufficient for achieving real justice.

The second conception that Cohen evaluates is the typical liberal view (circa Rawls) that justice can be achieved through political means. Justice isn't (in the case of Rawls) straight forward equality, but we'll leave the difference principle out of it for now. For Rawls, and many liberals, justice can be achieved by constitution-making, or changing the structure of our society and government so that these institutions are just. ( Note: the use of liberal in this sense is the political philosophy use of “liberal” and not the pop culture designation for Democrats and others on the left of the political spectrum. Of course that's tricky in and of itself, but the best definition I found of the Rawls sort of political liberalism is that it's aim is to “ provide a political framework that is neutral between such controversial comprehensive doctrines” (SEP). I wish I had a better grasp of that particular concept, but for now I'll move on.)

The problem that Cohen found in the Rawls' conception is that there is a possibility that you might have a “just government” without necessarily having much in the way of a “just society.” The laws and regulations that govern the 'basic structure' of society can be just without having just-minded citizens within that society. The reason for this divide is that under the Rawls' construction, the people must only agree to (and understand) the principles of justice as they apply to the framework of their society. Rawls' conception is ill equipped to deal with the individual choices of people within those societies and within those structures. I agree with Cohen that this poses a serious problem for his theory of justice. If, for example, you have a “just” structure, but within that structure the choices of individuals counteract (or fly in the face of) the governing principles, then justice has not been fully achieved. It is inadequate to say that a government must achieve the end of promoting the welfare of the least advantaged if the members of that society continually choose to promote their own welfare in ways that disadvantage the worst off. As Cohen (rightly) points out, “the justice of a society is not exclusively a function of its legislative structure, of its legally imperative rules, but is also a function of the choices people make within those rules.”

Cohen give a pretty good critique of Rawls' exclusive focus on the basic structure (whatever that really is), and how that is an inadequately narrow focus for the principles of justice. He goes to on examine how many professed egalitarians suffer from this Rawlsean attitude. By suffer I mean, they live out their lives in the way that Rawls laid out his theory. They are more focused on fighting for the legislative and political achievement of justice, that they neglect to make personal choices that reflect their belief in equality. If, for example, your average political philosophy professor is a proponent of egalitarian ideals, and if he also keeps enough of his (modest) income to allow him to live relatively well-off, then he is not himself promoting justice through personal choice. A truly committed egalitarian would give away as much of her resources as possible in order to ameliorate the plight of those less fortunate than herself. She would live as spartanly as possible in order that her earnings could work towards righting injustice. While I'm sure there's a few egalitarians like that indeed do give away a considerable portion of their income, there is a sizable portion that don't. In fact, as Cohen points out, there is a good number of fairly rich egalitarians out there fighting for social change yet living the good life. Of course this skirts the practical issue of trying to live justly within an unjust environment (and having to include a certain level of risk into your calculations), but for the most part, egalitarians could do more than they currently do (on the personal level).

Cohen asks how this could be. How can so many people believe in equality yet continue to profit from inequality in real life? Cohen goes through a series of excuses (none of which really amount to a decent justification) that the egalitarians could offer, but for now I want to focus on the attitude itself and how that attitude plays out in my own life. The attitude is this: I can't right injustice alone, so I will focus my attention on making sure the government rights injustice (even if that means coerced redistribution). I may not consciously think this way, but unfortunately I behave like I really think this way. It's an attitude that is both pessimistic on the personal level for society, yet also rather pessimistic about my own ability to help voluntarily. I focus on making sure the government forces me to help (and also forces everyone else to help), instead of just getting out there and doing what I can on my own. To be fair, part of the problem is collective action. I'm well aware that by wielding what small power I have in our (supposedly) democratic government I can do more overall good than simply operating on my own. A just society is not the work of any one person. But, it's not the work of institutions either. I must do what I can through my everyday personal decisions, and also through my political decisions. The two must go hand in hand. My behavior shouldn't show contradictory beliefs. Too often the liberal focus is on what the government can do, and not what each individual must do in her own life. Cohen recognizes this problem, and it's one I'm finally starting to see myself.

This brings us to the Christian conception of justice. Under the Christian conception (at least, based on Christian theology and not necessarily how Christians practice today), the fight for justice is really a fight of individuals. Justice will only be achieved if there is a “revolution of the soul” or some sort of individual moral battle. Cohen says, “Jesus would have spurned the liberal idea that the state can take care of justice for us, provided only that we obey the rules it lays down, and regardless of what we choose to do within those rules. And I believe that Jesus would have been right to spurn that idea.” The Christian conception doesn't rely on the government to fight injustice because each person is individually responsible to fight this battle. This is why you don't see as many socially conscious Christians fighting for the welfare state. They are fighting instead within their churches and within their own communities to fix the injustice in their own backyard. They don't fight for the government to feed the poor and shelter the homeless, because they see it as their personal responsibility to do this as a body of believers. There is (or at least, should be) an ethos of justice in the Christian church, and the ethos doesn't want to bother with the government (when it comes to the fight for social justice). Now this isn't true of all Christians (certainly there are Christians who also fight for government-driven justice, and there are also Christians who aren't very socially conscious at all –unfortunately). Part of this, I think, is a mistrust of the government. Why should the government take my money when I know better how to put that money to good use in my community? That is, I think, a valid point. There is an element of mismanagement (at least in the US) within the government (and lack of efficiency), that keeps many well-meaning people at bay (our lack of real control of the government doesn't help much either). I know this because in the church community that I grew up in, the attitude was something like this: it is not the job of the government to take care of the people, it is the job of the church because that is how we are called to share the love of God with our neighbors. This is why many Christians I know don't fight in the political arena; instead they fight in their own backyards.

So if we disregard Marx, then we have these two competing attitudes. One says that we should fight for a just government, and the other says we must fight to make more just-minded people. I think it's too easy to rely on the government to solve our society's problems, so in that respect I think that the Rawls route is a cop-out. It's too easy to support Rawls' route while at the same time living unjustly in your own life. However, I think there's some something missing in the Christian conception. While I whole-heartedly agree that there must be in change in society's character (which must be achieved through individual attitude transformation), I also think that it's wrong to ignore the power we (should) have over the government. If you really want to right injustice, you must both live a just life and use what power you have to ensure justice on a larger scale. For those in democracies, that means wielding your political influence to make sure our coercive government is not unjust. If everyone lived a life a personal justice, then the coercive power of the government would not be needed. However that's unlikely, so we must be prepared to fight at both the individual level and at the collective level to achieve social change. I am still uneasy about government coercion on a whole, because I think that, at least in the US, we don't have much in the way of real control over our government. But let's say we did, then we would morally obligated to use said power to achieve a more just society. Both battles must be fought, because I don't think that either can achieve its desired end alone. A just government is nothing without just citizens, and just citizens can't achieve real justice within an unjust government.

I wrote all of this mainly to sort through my own competing convictions. I have both the desire to see a revolution in our government and also a revolution in the ethos of our society. I want both, and I do a poor job in both battles. A few weeks ago I talked about the Christian stance on wealth, and I stand by my admission that I have yet to conqueror the selfish materialist in myself. At the same time, I don't even know where to begin on the political front (being unimpressed by both the Democrats and the Republicans). It's rather frustrating to read a book like Cohen's, to be caught up in his message, and to then realize that I'm a big part of the problem. I'm convicted in both senses, doing hardly anything to help realize justice on either front. But the first step is awareness, and the second is action. I'm not quite sure what my role is yet, but I'm working on it. So I want you to know that I don't write about all of this in vain, but rather to motivate myself to get out there and be a part of the solution, both as a social activist and (more importantly) as a Christ-follower.

More Golden Compass Stuff

I've recently come across this interview here with Philip Pullman. It was a very interesting read, and I recommend that you check it out. The most interesting Pullman quotes:

On being ingrained with the culture of the Church of England:
"My answer to that would be that I was brought up in the Church of England, and whereas I'm an atheist, I'm certainly a Church of England atheist, and for the matter of that a 1662 Book of Common Prayer atheist. The Church of England is so deeply embedded in my personality and my way of thinking that to remove it would take a surgical operation so radical that I would probably not survive it....My own background, as I've said many times, is Christian to the core. Christianity has made me what I am, for better or worse. I just don't believe in God."

Then he was asked a question about his books carrying Godly messages, though obviously sophisticated, despite his own atheism:
"That would be embarrassing, wouldn't it? But I think this question touches something that I answered in my previous email, namely the tendency among Christians (and no doubt other religions too) to think that anything they like in the work of an avowed atheist or agnostic is a sign that really the said a. or a. is deluding himself, and that he's really Christian, only he doesn't know it. But I resist that interpretation, as you'd expect me to. I'm not deluded: Christians are. There is no God."

In the interview he makes it clear that he gets very upset with Christians monopolizing virtues. If I say that love and self-sacrifice are Christian virtues, then I'm not wrong in the sense that my religion is wrong, but wrong in the sense that my religion cannot monopolize those virtues. I can see what sort of attitude he's talking about, and it's one that's rife in the Church. The attitude is that only believers can do or know good, and non-believers can't. Well that's obviously wrong. Non-believers can cherish the same virtues as we do, and many of them can live by them better than we do. It's not a question of monopoly. Good is universal for the doing, and evil is the same.

Christians need to be careful not to say (or think) that only Christians can have access to these virtues. On the contrary, the existence of these virtues on a universal level testifies to the whole point of Christianity, or the Gospel. The fact that everyone does think love and self-sacrifice are good things, and that selfishness/etc are bad things (and the fact that we often have more of the latter than the former) gives us a good reason to think that the Christian world view isn't all that crazy. No, Christians don't have a monopoly on virtue. But, if the Gospel is right, then the fact that so many stories and authors point to these virtues should be a good sign that there is universal truth in the message of Christ. If you don't believe the Christ bit, that's your own deal. But Christians have good reason to see Christian virtues in non-Christian works. If they didn't, then they'd have a reason to be suspect of what they believe. If, for example, Christ said it was virtuous to be lazy and disobedient, well we'd have to wonder. Not many people of any cultural variety would call that virtuous. Not that all morality of all religions and cultures is equal, which it's not, and not to say that the message of Christ wasn't radical in ways, but rather he spoke to a deeper story and struggle that every human faces. Do you see where I'm going with this? It's okay for Christians to point to the work of non-believers and see a greater message embedded in them. It's because the struggle is universal that you will inevitably find evidence of that struggle everywhere. But no, don't think that only Christians know about or can be live by these virtues. The difference is that Christians (should) realize that they fall short, that everyone does. That's the point.

Now for those books, you can check out my thoughts on them here. If you're a Christian, go read them. The story is great (though the end is wanting), and you won't go to hell for it. In fact, you may just learn something. The opposite of faith is fear (I shamelessly steal from Pastor Chris), and being afraid of a story won't get you anywhere. You need to be able to evaluate everything for what it is, for it's good points and bad. Pullman has some good lessons, and he has some I don't care for. The important part is being able to test for yourself what's worth taking from the books, and what's not. But don't let his atheism put you off. Rather, see this as an opportunity to learn from a different perspective.

Democracy for Sinners

“Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible; man’s capacity for injustice makes democracy necessary” (emphasis mine). Reinhold Niebuhr makes this powerful observation as early as the forward to his book, The Children of Light and the Children of Darkness. Essentially, Neibuhr is a realist regarding human nature, and his views are largely influenced by his Christian beliefs. Niebuhr argues that political idealists, despite their good intentions, always fail in the execution of their ideals because they don’t fully understand the intricacies of human nature. The book doesn’t say much in the way of Neibuhr’s own principles of justice (with one notable exception that I mention later), but instead he focuses on how you move from ideals to reality. He does make it clear that democracy is probably the best bet, but the problem lies in democracy’s traditional justifications. These justifications, according to Neibuhr, not only fail in their justification but also hinder democracy’s ultimate success. Of course this book happened to fit perfectly with the last philosophy class I took, which studied ideal and non-ideal philosophy. And even better, Niebuhr borrows heavily from the Christian world view, to which I am also a believer, so as you may imagine I enjoyed the book immensely. (Let me note before I go on that apparently Niebuhr was a pretty important theologian and philosopher in the previous decade, and this is the first I’ve ever heard of him. My education, both philosophically and theologically, has failed me.)

So let’s start by setting up the scene as proposed by Niebuhr. On the one hand you have the CLs (children of light), who are all those who “believe that self-interest should be brought under the discipline of a higher law.” That includes pretty much all political idealists (the forerunners of democracy, Marxists, and whoever else). Let me point out that the higher law need not be God’s, and in the case of many of the political idealists described by Niebuhr it isn’t. The only common denominator is that they believe there is something bigger than the self out there, and that something is important enough to trump individual interests every now and again. For all intensive purposes, you can call this a sort of objective moral standard, which includes a standard of justice. Now on the other hand you have the CDs (the children of darkness). These are the pessimists, or moral cynics, who “know no law beyond their will and interest.” I would go so far as to include the relativists in this category. So the CDs don’t buy into the whole objective moral standard. Maybe they believe there is no such thing as morality, or maybe they believe morality is really just the pursuit of selfish ends. The point is these folks don’t think there is a greater ‘justice’ to attain, just a will to either suppress or pursue.

Needless to say, the different views of morality will have a profound impact on each group’s political theories. For the CLs, they rightly strive to subordinate society to the claims of justice. For the CDs, they either don’t want to subordinate self-interest, or think that the only workable society will have to completely subordinate people’s selfishness (think Hobbes). The CLs get it wrong because they underestimate people’s capacity to screw things up and be selfish and unjust. The CDs get it wrong because they either pursue self interest shamelessly, or they don’t remember that the leaders of more authoritarian regimes (intended to suppress this sort of pursuit) also have selfish pursuits. Of the two groups, the CDs have the best understanding of the inner crookedness of human nature. Call it sin, call it selfishness, call it whatever you want. Humans have complicated motivations, and it’s rarely ever black and white. The CLs presume that people are basically good and will, for the most part, care enough about justice to make society work. For the CLs that promote democracy, they justify their ideals on the basis that most people will pursue justice within a democracy, and that’s why the government should be controlled by the people. Neibuhr disagrees. Instead, he thinks the justification for democracy is that the government is always going to be made of people, people who are selfish, and so that government should be held accountable to everyone. Democracy is the best way to go because it leaves (in theory) no person unchecked. Authoritarian regimes have no such check. So for Neibuhr, we don’t vote because deep down we’ll all vote for justice; rather we vote because deep down even the leaders of our government will be selfish and ought to be held accountable for their actions.

Neibuhr sees the human struggle as this: we want to flourish but deep down we have these fighting convictions that are hard to reconcile. We have a need to flourish (or as he says, reach our full potential), which is essentially a pursuit for the self. But, we can only reach our full potential in community with others by contributing to other people’s flourishing. So although we have this selfish pursuit of flourishing, its fulfillment depends upon non-selfish means. That’s one part, and he calls it the will-to-live-truly. The other part is called our will-to-power. We have a will to power that is rooted in our recognition of our own insignificance. In the scheme of things, each person is nothing. To compensate for this insignificance, we try to make ourselves as significant as we can, which is translated into a desire for power. The power can be inner power, or power over others (sounds a bit like choice theory). So anyway, the point is that we have two battling desires, and they can (and do) make it both possible for us to do really good things or really bad things. I’d say most people would agree with this. People have the capacity (and desire) to be good, but we have an equal capacity (and sometimes desire) to be bad. It’s Milton’s “able to stand but free to fall” dilemma. Unfortunately, it’s the capacity to fall that most CLs don’t take into consideration. That’s where Neibuhr’s realism comes in. The CLs should borrow from the wisdom of the CDs, who understand the capacity for man to be evil. BUT, he warns, they should “be careful not to borrow too much.”

The lesson: we need to self-critical all the time, and we need institutions that allow us to put this criticism into practice. Democracy is one such institution. But it’s not as simple as that. We can’t, Neibuhr warns, just set up a rigid system and leave it at that or problems will ensue. Neibuhr’s main focus is how to go from the principles of justice (to which he doesn’t propose his own, as I mentioned earlier) to their implementation. This is a big step, from ideal theory to non-ideal situations. How can it be done? What process do you follow? What’s the formula for turning principles of justice into policy? Niebuhr say’s there aren’t any! But, there are important constraints to think about if you’re dealing with a human nature as Neibuhr describes it.

Okay, so let’s say you set up a society with working laws, that are really only relative to the society itself at a certain time period, and you make those relative laws subject to criticism as time, technology, culture, etc changes. Surely that’s enough? Or, should we be able to also criticize the principles of justice themselves? Surely that’s going too far, to allow the principles of justice to be subject to popular mood and selfish interest? Right? Wrong. To the idea that the principles of justice are subject to change, I was initially taken aback. For if even the highest principles are relative, then what is the higher standard supposed to be?? Well, Niebuhr says that even our principles must be subject to criticisms because the beings that discovered them are themselves fallen creatures tempted by selfishness and whatnot. So really, it’s not that justice changes, it’s that our conception of justice must be flexible because it’s always, at some level, tainted by our own capacity for error and sin. Okay, I guess I agree with that. The standard is immutable, but our conception of that standard must be flexible, because our reason is not pure. This differs decidedly from the liberal idolization of human reason. Neibuhr claims that because “reason is something more than a weapon of self-interest it can be an instrument of justice; but since reason is never dissociated from the vitalities of life, individual and collective, it cannot be a pure instrument of justice.”

He goes on to add that as you go from ideal to the real world, each step closer becomes more and more relative because it is linked closer with a specific time in history. The principles are the least flexible, but they still are flexible to some extent. As you go down the latter, the laws and policies must be more and more flexible, because they are too dependent upon currant circumstances.

Neibuhr follows this thesis with an interesting discussion of religious humility, which is the greatest contribution of religion to society. It’s not common even among religious folks, but some religious folks do have it and the best thing for the rest of society is to emulate it. Deep humility comes from an encounter with something so much greater than yourself that, while you have important beliefs in that being and the society you live in, you can’t help but be acutely aware of your own fallibility in the face of this being. In other words, no matter how strongly you hold your beliefs, if you have religious humility, then you are very aware of just how wrong you can be because you realize your own powerlessness and ignorance. That, Neibuhr claims, is very rare, but it is the best sort of toleration for a pluralistic society. What’s more common is religious indifference, which doesn’t come from one ounce of humility, and is the worse for it. Democracy desperately needs this sort of humility for it to work properly. If everyone was aware of how wrong they could be and probably are then we’d all get along much better. Neibuhr worries that “blind ideological devotion” (of either the secular or religious variety) is the greatest threat to democracy, and to justice as a whole. I totally agree, but I don’t anticipate any great humbling of our prideful race any time soon. It’s too bad. (His thoughts on humility are way more extensive and interesting than I’m letting on here, but I just don’t have space to elaborate).

Before you think Neibuhr is himself a pessimist, let me mention this. Neibuhr is very aware that our capacity to fall is equally matched by our capacity to overcome our fallenness. We possess the power to go either way, often we do a bit of both. So the flexibility of the government is not only there to check our fallen moments, but it is also flexible to allow for our moments of redemption. He's not a pessimist, but he's not an optimist. He's a realist. We can go either way. We ought to go one way, and sometimes we should, and our society should be set up in a way to allow for that to the greatest possible extent. But we shouldn't be foolish and forget that we can just as easily mess it all up.

The one principle of justice that he does propose is our global responsibility. His book was written at the culmination of the second world war, and he was very aware of the looming global crisis at hand. Our community, he argues, is not limited to our nation. But, it’s easier said than done, and he also realizes the very real issues involved in a global community. I just thought it was nice that he didn’t limit his discussion to the nation. Justice is worldwide, and there’s no reason for us to be just within our own nation and unjust elsewhere.

He also said something about libertarians that I found quite interesting. He pretty much puts them into the CD category of pessimism about the human race, but they suffer from the opposite problem of Hobbes and the other authoritarians. Where Hobbes didn’t see that the rulers of his government were just as prone to selfishness as the people they rule over, the libertarians overestimate the guiding hand of the market. The hand, Neibuhr argues, is just not strong enough. And if you limit government because you don’t trust the people running it, then you should be even more worried about the people running the market (business leaders) because they can’t be checked. At least the government, however imperfect, can be held accountable, but those in charge of the market can run amuck without reprimand, and that is much more dangerous for justice than a corrupt government. Let me add that I thought libertarians were essentially too optimistic about our ability to run ourselves. I just figured they thought we were better people outside of the government than within. But I see Neibuhr’s point.

Now, what I would really love to know is what Neibuhr thought (or would think) about Rawls’ principles. They are, for the most part, harnessing self-interest, but Rawls doesn’t give much guidance for their implementation. I wonder. And I wonder what Rawls thought about Neibuhr, if he thought about his ideas at all. (I’m sure there’s a book or paper out there about this already)

So the moral of the story: we suck. We need to be checked and rechecked all the time. The good news? God doesn’t suck and He offered to take away our suckiness while at the same time being happy that we tried to not be sucky. Neibuhr puts it more elegantly:

“The task of achieving a [just world community] must be interpreted from the standpoint of a faith which understands the fragmentation and broken character of all historical achievements and yet has confidence in their meaning because it knows their completion to be in the hands of a Divine Power, whose resources are greater than those of men, and whose suffering love can overcome the corruptions of man’s achievements, without negating the significance of our striving.”

Well said.

The Potter problem and some philosophy to boot:

Two weeks ago a friend of mine gave me the first 5 Harry Potter books. I had yet to read any (or watch any of the movies), because it was just so trendy. I felt like reading them would be the equivalent to listening to N’Sync in the 7th grade. It was a matter of principle. It didn’t help that I’m not too keen on magic and the like. I try to avoid books/movies/shows that make magic look fun and cool and innocent. If you believe in the supernatural (which I openly admit that I do), then magic is nothing to take lightly. Those who do practice magic aren’t channeling positive forces (even if they think they are). If you remember my post on CS Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, I really believe that there are spiritual powers at war in this world. Any time you tap into a power not from God, well you can guess where I think it comes from. So I just never bothered to read the books. They were too trendy, and they make little kids think magic is cool (and I admit, after reading them, there have been several occasions where I’ve wished I had a wand to stupefy my students in swim lessons).

But even though I didn’t read them, I didn’t think they were any worse than every other secular book out there (unlike many other vocal Christians in the US that ardently boycott the series). A book without God is just that, a book without God. Of course there are wonderful books with God, and I love many of them (Narnia, Rings, etc). But that doesn’t mean that any book without God is bad to read just because He’s missing from it. Literary achievement isn’t limited to the pious, and there’s a lot you can learn (I know this is obvious) from those who don’t write from a religious perspective (see my Golden Compass post for one example). So I’ve decided to write about Harry Potter from my perspective, and I know many other Christians have already done this but I haven’t read a word of it because I didn’t want anything to be spoiled (so forgive me if I repeat what other thoughtful writers have already written, it isn’t intentional). And I think my discussion of the merits of Potter lends itself to a short discussion of whether we should introduce philosophy to children through their own literature (a subject I have never thought about myself, but have recently been introduced to by Professor Brighouse).

I don’t know if I’ll spoil the books for anyone, so don’t read this if you haven’t read them but plan too (though I don’t think I’ll give away too much, and I doubt there are many people left who haven’t read them yet).

The central plot in HP is one of a war between good and evil, a common enough story line. Voldemort, the evil antagonist, does a Satan slash Darth Vador move by moving to the dark side. His move was motivated by pride and a lust for power. Then you have Harry who is not extraordinary in himself, but rather becomes extraordinary by the combination of the love in his life and his willingness to do the right thing. In the end, love conquers all. Without love, you just can’t win, and you’re pretty miserable in the process. No amount of power can replace love. So minus the glorification of white magic (which, I suppose, is a powerful enough objection on its own, but I don’t think it outweighs the importance of the message in the books), the book does a good job of promoting the story of all time. Why do so many stories focus on the battle between good and evil? Why does love always seem to win out in the end? Why are the underdogs able to do extraordinary things? Well, you can guess what I have to say about that. Love wins because God is love. Evil is here because moral agents are prone to pride, and they have the choice to abandon God is they want. God’s love will win anyways, so those who embrace it (and those people tend to be the underdogs, those who need all the help they can get) also gain the power of His love. It’s a universal story because the battle is etched in our hearts. The God hole is there, the temptation to follow the route of pride is there, the love is there for the taking… The story can come in any shape or form, the characters may change, the setting may be different, but the conflict is the same.

The fact that so many stories have the same conflict speaks to the need that we have for God and His love. By reading secular novels (and going to secular movies and listening to secular songs) you witness humanity’s longing for it. I’ve always thought that sheltering yourself from the shouts of humanity for God is tantamount to ignoring God Himself. We need to listen to everyone else so we can begin to show them the love that we prize so dearly. A few years back some friends of mine and I decided to make a CD about God, but it would be filled with only secular songs. The songs we found spoke of love and redemption and second chances and the need to belong and be satisfied and have a purpose. The overwhelming cry of humanity is this very deep need for love, the unconditional and extraordinary kind. When I read Harry Potter, I hear this cry.

Well I was going to say more on that, but I fear I may just be repeating what other Christians have no doubt figured out already. So that’s all really. Not earth-shattering, but I thought it was worth saying again, as it’s an important lesson or us (believers) to learn.

Here’s where I was going to write about how HP and books like it lend themselves very nicely to discussing philosophy with children, but I think I’ll save that for a future post. Expect it soon enough.

More and Monopoly

Well I finished readying Thomas More's Utopia a few weeks back, and I've finally found some time to write out some of my thoughts. Though, to be perfectly honest, the book left me with mixed feelings, and I have yet to resolve them. Perhaps my confusion is the result of reading this book immediately after Orwell's 1984, but who knows.

For starters, one of More's most forceful critiques was his stance on England's use of the death penalty. At the time, almost everything was punishable by death. More, rightly, points out that petty theft and murder are crimes that are not at all the same, and they shouldn't be punished the same either. He also points out, interestingly, that if a "Christian" nation is trivially putting people to death, then it is, in effect, overriding one of the basic commandments. He makes his observation as follows:

"God said, 'Thou shalt not kill'-- does the theft of a little money make it quite all right for us to do so? If it's said that this commandment applies only to illegal killing, what's to prevent human beings from similarly agreeing among themselves to legalize certain types of rape, adultery, or perjury? Considering that God has forbidden us even to kill ourselves, can we really believe that purely human arrangements for the regulation of mutual slaughter are enough, without divine authority, to exempt executioners from the sixth commandment? Isn't that rather like saying that this particular commandment has no more validity than human laws allow it? --in which case the principle can be extended indefinitely, until in all spheres of life human beings decide just how far God's commandments may conveniently be observed."

Personally, I am undecided on the death penalty. There are issues of how well can we really know that the person is guilty, and to what extent does the State have a right to take away the life of somebody. But do serial killers forfeit their right to live when they kill a bunch of people...? I'm not sure. Regardless, in More's case, he's quite right to point out that we shouldn't use capital punishment for just anything. I mean, the crime must be pretty horrible to warrant it. Anyways, this section just reminded me that I need to think on this some more (esp as a Christian, since Jesus' stance on mercy is pretty clear).

And then there's this wonderful part about how Raphael should give advice to political leaders (as a philosopher). The debate is whether or not he ought to, and whether or not anyone would listen if he did. More (the character) says that there's no room for "academic" philosophy, by which I think he means ideal theory, because it's "irrespective of circumstances." But there is, apparently, room for non-ideal philosophy, if only anyone would bother to care. He goes on to complain that "if we're never to say anything unconventional, for fear of its sounding ridiculous, we'll have to hush up, even in a Christian country, practically everything that Christ taught." That quote in particular made me laugh, as sad as that is.

Now here is where I think More is on to something. In Utopia, of course, there is no money and the usual things that we value (gold, gems) are worthless. Instead, everyone does their share and has what they need and they all seem to be content enough. Now all of that is quite attractive when you read it, but then you realize that it's far from practical (at least for a large nation). Utopia is an island with tons of natural resources, natural defenses, the people are raised to be of a certain sort, etc etc. But, one of the great lessons of their little hippy commune, is their attitude towards work. Check out this passage:

"They never force people to work unnecessarily, for the main purpose of their whole economy is the give each person as much time free from physical drudgery as the needs of the community will allow, so that he can cultivate his mind (yay!) -which they regard as the secret of a happy life."

In the US it seems like we live to work, whereas elsewhere in the world people work to live. Why the turn around? Maybe we can chalk this one up to the Puritans.... In any case, this was a discussion in my french business class where we discovered that the French (apparently) don't like to work, and they only want to work enough to have a decent quality of life. I'm not going to lie, our way seems to be quite stupid (working to work so we can work some more?), but I often find myself following in this stupid American tradition. I don't mean to say that we should do nothing at all, but we should have the free time to do the "work"/ activities that we enjoy (for some that means raising a family, for others it's education, and for some still it's something else entirely).

Moving along, here's a passage that struck me precisely because I've thought the very same thing myself. It's about our desire for precious stones when they look the same as non-precious stones (so it's not really an about the atheistic value, per se, but the whole rarity thing):

"There's another type of person I mentioned before, who has a passion for jewels, and feels practically superhuman if he manages to get hold of a rare one, esp if it's a kind that's considered particularly precious in his country and period -for the value of such things varies according to where and when you live. But he's so terrified of being taken in by appearances that he refuses to buy any jewel until he's stripped off all the gold and inspected it in the nude...But my dear sir, why shouldn't a fake give you just as much pleasure, if you can't, with your own eyes, distinguish it from a real one? It makes no difference to you whether it's genuine or not -any more than it would to a blind man!"

I really think he's on to something. Maybe in the future I should have a cubic zirconium for an engagement ring...(though we'll see if I still feel that way by then!). I never did understand what all the fuss was about. I mean, I've had people think my cheap Claire's earrings were real, so what does it matter anyway? If it's really about how it looks, then costume jewelery should suffice... ;)

Oh, and I particularly liked this bit about the law and lawyers (for those who are unaware, I am heading off to law school soon, so I suppose I ought to find this offensive and not funny). This part I think makes a lot of sense, and it's a wonder we haven't adopted it yet:

"It's quite unjust for anyone to be bound by a legal code which is too long for an ordinary person to read right through, or too difficult for him to understand."

The reason our's is so obnoxious is, of course, the lawyer's fault:

"If nobody's telling the sort of lies that one learns from lawyers, the judge can apply all his shrewdness to weighing the facts of the case, and protecting simple-minded characters against the unscrupulous attacks of clever ones."

Unscrupulous, I like the word usage here. What if one day I became a lawyer that's *gasp* unscrupulous. Heaven help us.

So, I thought the book was clever, obviously, it is after all a classic. It was a bit too unrealistic for me (yes, even me, a philosophy student), and I couldn't shake the image of what the State would turn into when it started to implement it (ie, big brother). But, the attitude is right, and we should at least take that away. This, of course, brings me to my follow-up story from a few nights back. I may have some socialist, maybe even communist, tenancies, but apparently in the face of good old capitalist competition those all melt away and reveal my true colors. By this I mean, the other night I played Monopoly with some of my friends and I found myself bending over backwards to get hotels on Atlantic Avenue, Ventnor Ave, and Marvin Gardens (the yellow properties). We were off to a great start because we landing on free parking 5 times in a row, and, apparently, all that monopoly dough can go to your head. Needless to say we ended up bankrupt with nothing by the end, so that shows you something. Everyone has an inner capitalist within, just waiting to be unleashed by a Parker Brothers game. So much for working together in social unity for the common good. Go straight to jail, do not pass GO, do not collect $200...

Thoughtcrime: 1984

As you may have guessed from the title, this post is about Orwell's book, 1984. I've just crossed it off my summer reading list, which consists of books that I feel like I should have already read but I haven't yet. Overall impression: I loved it. It really lives up to its legacy as a wonderful, thought provoking, and utterly disturbing piece of literature. It's not one I would read again, precisely because it was entirely to creepy for me, though I guess that's a big part of its charm as well. I feel like it did a good job of grounding my Utopian-like fantasies about what sort of society is actually achievable. Though, to be fair, I plan on reading More's Utopia next for the sake of balance. Seriously though, 1984 is a masterpiece, and I am ill-qualified to say much about it here, though I will venture to share the parts that impressed me the most.

Doublethink: "to know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously two opinions which canceled out, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them..."

When this concept is first introduced, I dismissed it. No one could actually, would actually, think that way. Right? To my philosophy trained mind, the worst heresy you can commit is to purposefully ignore logic. But as the book progressed, it occurred to me that its not only the Party members in 1984 who do this sort of thing. We are just as guilty. Honestly, there must be dozens of times when I've knowingly believed two contradictory things and merely refused to reconcile them, all the while telling myself that they are not mutually exclusive. Some out there may think my belief that God and science aren't mutually exclusive would fall under this category, but that's not what I'm think of here (obviously). Consider this two thoughts: 1) I give my life over to God and 2) I must act in my own interest. Both daily thoughts, both require a certain set of actions, both are mutually exclusive. It's entirely too easy to believe them both (at whatever level of consciousness) and never allow yourself to consider that you can't have both. The whole, no one can serve two masters command, is never taken seriously is it? The same sort of thing happens to everyone (albeit with different subjects). So that's a bit frightening. I am willfully illogical on a daily basis. Wonderful.

"Orthodoxy means not thinking --not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness."

Like in the Golden Compass, its a terrible waste when people go through life unconsciousness. We don't even know we do it, but we do. Get up, go to class, try to stay awake, eat, read, watch tv, go to bed, repeat. Not hard to go through the motions. What about stopping to think about why we do what we do, and think about what we should actually be doing, instead of just absently doing it??

"The heresy of heresies was common sense. And what was terrifying was not that they would kill you for thinking otherwise, but that they might be right. For, after all, how do we know that two and two makes four?...If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable --what then?"

1984 seemed to come down pretty hard on idealism, as it should. I know its frustrating to not be able to prove that the computer I am typing on exists in a reality outside of my senses, but let's be serious. I know that makes me a bad philosopher, but I can't believe it. I suppose it could be true, even if what I believe about God is right it could be true, but really? I used to think in class that someone should have punched Berkeley in the face and then asked if he thought her fist was a construction of his sensory experience. But honestly, the book is more condemning of our attempts to water down epistemology. Truth has become so subjective these days, that its not far from the truth promoted in the book. Truth is what we make it, says the party leaders. The past, well that only exists in our memories and records, so again we make that what we want as well. There's even a part where O'Brien (the Kurtz of 1984) convinces the protagonist that if he believes he is levitating, and if the protagonist believes he is levitating, then he is levitating. It's not that idealism is bad, per se, but you see how it can be dangerous. If reality is only what exists in our consciousness, and if the government controls our consciousness, well you understand.

"But if the object was not to stay alive but to stay human, what difference did it ultimately make? They could not alter your feelings; for that matter you could not alter them yourself, even if you wanted to. They could lay bare in the utmost detail everything that you had done or said or thought; but the inner heart, whose workings were mysterious even to yourself, remained impregnable."

Only you can't protect even that, which is precisely why the book creeps me out. If society can break you, emotionally, then you've lost the only true blessing we were ever given. If God wanted mindless zombies, He would have created them. But what if we turn each other into them?? Honestly, we're not far away from that...

"The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power..."

And, Machiavelli has nothing on these guys. At least they're honest? Scary, but I don't think these power-mongers are very different from their real life counterparts...

So what did I learn? Think, think, think. Your humanity depends on it. Your integrity depends on it. Society depends on it. Passively accept nothing, guard your heart, and don't be quick to trust human establishments, of any kind. That's all for now. I promise to have a non-about-a-book-I-just-read post soon...really...

Lessons from the Golden Compass

I just finished reading Philip Pullman's Dark Materials Trilogy (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass). I had previously read the Golden Compass back in the 8th grade, and I liked it... but I wasn't much of a fantasy/sci-fi fan at the time. When I started the 2nd book, I just couldn't handle it because it was too out-there for me. It wasn't until my last few years of high school that I discovered my interest in these sorts of novels. A friend of mine introduced me to the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and I loved it. Then I went out and got the Chronicles of Narnia and read those too (the first book, of which, I had started to read back in 5th grade and didn't like at all... too weird for me... I think I must have been a really boring kid or something, I probably still am). Again, I loved them. Now that I've finished Pullman's books, I can see the similarities between them all. Oxford must be a very inspiring place because it's the home of some wonderful authors. And the great thing about reading all of these books at an older age is that I was able to appreciate the literature in all of it's philosophical (and often theological) glory. Lewis and Tolkien give us stories that evoke the age old struggle of good versus evil, and they make God's role in our world come alive in a whole new way. Pullman, interestingly, takes this same struggle from a whole new perspective. Though Pullman is an atheist, and his story clearly shows this, his books are just as important for Christian readers as those of Lewis and Tolkien. I'm fairly certain that his trilogy wouldn't be allowed in the libraries of many Christian schools, but I'm also fairly certain that shying away from his message would be a mistake.

(I'm trying to write this so as not to spoil it for those who haven't read it yet, but there are somethings I have to include in order to explain why his books were important... so you've been warned.)

Pullman's books focus on the question of consciousness. In the books, consciousness is vital to the survival of the world as we know it, and it's not just about being aware of the world, but it's about being thoughtful, creative, inquisitive, logical, etc. The great tragedy is not physical death, but the death of the mind. Indifference and mindlessness are the great enemies. Loss of one's consciousness is pretty much equivalent to the loss of one's soul (which for some characters in his books, is personified in the form of a daemon --there's actually a really neat connection about how growing up is the time when you settle on your personality, and that's a good thing, unlike in many other books where growing up --loosing innocence-- is bad). The church, interestingly, is afraid of consciousness (real/original/creative thought), and they pretty much associate it with sin. At first, I was kind of offended that the church was the enemy in this sense, but then I realised that Pullman was making a valid point. How often has the church in its history tried to silence dissent? Creativity? Discovery? Not always, of course, but certainly too much. Religious folks of all stripes ought to embrace and utilize their minds! Our reason, our creativity, our imagination, everything -- they are all wonderful gifts from God. Do you think He blessed us with these amazing abilities for us to be afraid of them? Of course not. In fact, I strongly believe that He gave us these specific abilities to be able to find him on our own. He gave us the tools, he gave us the choice, and He left it up to us (with some nudging along the way). Like Milton said, "Sufficient to have stood, free to fall..."

But gifts of the intellect do come at a price. An indifferent individual may not be able to do much good, but they certainly don't do much harm. They just don't do anything, really. On the other hand, someone who is intelligent, clever, and imaginative is in a different boat. She can do enormous good, but she can also do enormous harm. The bigger they are, the harder they fall (couldn't help myself, sorry). After all, what separates Lincoln from Hitler? It's not determination. It's not leadership ability or intelligence (if that was a bad comparison, replace it with a better one). The difference is in the motive; it's in the heart. God gifted both of these individuals, but they had to choose how to use their gifts. So the Church is afraid of what happens when we use our minds for evil, I understand that. But stifling thought prevents the enormous good that can be achieved by cultivating our gifts. So, Christians take heed. Pullman's worry should be ours as well...

Lesson two: the kingdom. What do you usually hear (well-meaning) Christians say about the kingdom of God?? If I can just make it through this life, I'll have a hell'va time when I get to heaven. If I can just hang on, I'll find peace when I die. I'll be rewarded, as soon as I leave this world. What kind of life does this sort of attitude lead to? If you are merely surviving this life, you aren't doing much to improve your (or more importantly, other people's) lot in the present. In other words, you kind of lack a big motivation to make the world a better place. But the Lord's kingdom isn't some far off paradise. It's here. It's now. One of the big lessons I pulled away from Pullman was his insistence that we must start living in the kingdom (republic, for him, more on that below) today. As a matter of fact, I recently heard a sermon about this at church. It was about how the kingdom of God is alive and well in our hearts and in this world, and it is our job to bring this kingdom to everyone else. In God's kingdom, love reigns supreme, and so we should daily live to love, to bring God's kingdom to the world. Don't believe me? Jesus said it too: "Once, having been asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, 'The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within (or among) you'" (Luke 17:20-21). I really believe this is the most important lesson for any Christian who reads Pullman. We must start living in the kingdom now! Decide for yourself what this will mean for you in a practical, day-to-day sense. It means different things for everyone. Everyone has a different role in the kingdom, and everyone has a duty to get started right away. Don't know what that means for you? Ask. Seek. Knock. You'll find the answer, as long as you're listening.

Of course there were a few things in Pullman's books that I didn't agree with. The main principle I really disagreed with was the Republic of Heaven. I'll try not to give to much away, but in essence the books show how every conscious being (spirit or physical) is equal. That entails that humans are in no way inferior to God (nor could they be, really, given who God really is in the books... but that's for you to find out when you read it). And I see the appeal of this line of thought. Of course, why should we be lower than Him? Don't we deserve to be on his level? Well, that's kind of how humans have gotten off track with God from the start. Sin isn't about sex and lies (contrary to what you'll often hear Christians getting worked up about today). It's about thinking of yourself first, before God, before anyone, and asserting your own interests. Pride? Isn't that really just a will that wants to be it's own God? In my heart, equality with God is not something I desire (well, I guess I probably do sometimes). That, after all, is our whole problem. We want to be God. We are gods, in our own minds. We want to be superior, to be above him, to be the rulers of our lives. Well, if God really did create us, then our lives are gifts. We are entitled to nothing, but we are blessed with everything. We ought to take the attitude of Jesus when he came down to dwell with us: "Christ Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant" (Philippians 2: 5-7).

Another thing I was disappointed with was that the second two books don't really live up to the first one. The first one was by far my favorite, the second was okay, and the third I really only read to see what would happen. His setup is superb, but the follow through is wanting. It's hard to explain why, but I got the feeling that his wrap up lacked the subtlety and sophistication of the story he began. The ending wasn't quite as thrilling as the "prophecies" foretold, so I guess that must be it. It just seemed too easy, and I just didn't buy it. But perhaps, that just shows that I couldn't accept the whole last half of the epic tale on a faith level, who knows. Even if the last half wasn't so "out-there" I think I would have still been disappointed with the ending. That didn't happen for me when I read Tolkien, but it did somewhat with Lewis. Tolkien got better as the story progressed, and I think I enjoyed Lewis's middle novels better than the first and last ones. But if you disagree, feel free to tell me so.

So go read the books (at least the first one). And do it quickly, because Hollywood is about to bastardize yet another wonderful children's series by again during it into a major blockbuster. Quick tangent: I have a hard time when these sorts of books get made into movies. They are of the variety they are precisely because they are fuel for the imagination. But when movies come out, children go and see the movie first, and then half the fun of reading the books is gone. It's like taking a dagger to the imaginations of a whole generation. Of course, it's sometimes neat to watch the movie after the fact, but I'd give up that pleasure (and sometimes its not, because often they ruin it anyway) if that meant children would be able to read the book and fully exercise their imaginative juices. If you are curious, though, now that I've mentioned it, you can check out more info here. Some big stars will be in it. But don't look at the site if you haven't read the books yet.

**I just found this out about the upcoming film:

Fans of the Philip Pullman novel His Dark Materials have expressed outrage over news that director-screenwriter Chris Weitz (American Pie) has removed references to God and the Catholic church in the movie. Weitz told a website set up by fans of the novel, bridgetothestars.net, that New Line Cinema, the company producing the film, has "expressed worry about the possibility of perceived anti-religiosity." He said that the studio had told him that if the references remained, the project would become "unviable financially." He remarked that he had discussed the matter with Pullman, who had told him that the role of the Authority (God) in his book, could be transformed into "any arbitrary establishment that curtails the freedom of the individual." The religious villains in the film, he said, "may appear in more subtle guises." He added: "you will probably not hear of the 'Church.'" One fan posted a message on the website calling the changes a "blatant cop-out to the Bible Belt of America."

Hollywood studio New Line have banned proposed references to God and the church from new film His Dark Materials. Philip Pullman's screenplay portrays the church as an institution which is experimenting on its congregation in a effort to remove original sin. But the strong religious material terrified New Line bosses, and director Chris Weitz agrees changes were necessary for the scripts big screen incarnation. He says, "They have expressed worry about the possibility of perceived anti-religiosity. "All my best efforts will be directed towards keeping the film as liberating and iconoclastic an experience as I can. But there may be some modification of terms. "I have no desire to change the nature or intentions of the villains of the piece, but they may appear in more subtle guises."

I don't know how I feel about that. But I suppose the message of the books is universal enough that any institution that suppresses original thought could be the 'enemy.' I wouldn't be surprised if the more die-hard Pullman fans get really mad.