Afraid of Freedom?
Virginia Stem Owens’ otherwise good review of Dava Sobel’s book, Galileo’s Daughter [“Galileo Had a Daughter,” May/June] was marred by her conclusion: “Galileo was right to trust his senses, and that reliance changed our view of the universe irretrievably. But we have learned that scientific experts do, in fact, need judges over them, and that the necessary qualification for that position goes beyond even scientific competence.”
However charmingly she has worded it, and however she cares to justify her position by talking about her fears of nuclear energy and genetic engineering, fundamentally her mentality is precisely the same as that of those who condemned Galileo in the Inquisition. And I find that inexcusable. Tell me please, that she doesn’t mean what it sounds like she’s saying: the truth is a fearful thing that, when released, will destroy the moral fabric of society. Worse, don’t tell me that she believes that scientific research needs to be policed. Totalitarian mind control and a lack of academic freedom may have been de rigueur at the end of the Middle Ages, but does she seriously believe that such censorship is a good thing? Tell you what, next time she writes a novel or poem, how about she submit it to judges who will decide whether or not what she has produced will be safe for our society. If she finds such an idea unacceptable, then perhaps she’ll understand that scientists, like any creative people, should not be constrained, either. I suppose she’ll say that scientific discoveries can have horrible and unforeseen repercussions; of course, those who censor books and poems say the same thing. How about we just prosecute people when they do something morally reprehensible, rather than oppressing creativity because of the fear that it might lead to something that needs prosecuting?
I’d like to point something out that may have escaped her notice. God thinks that human freedom is more important than human goodness. A shocking statement? Perhaps, but it is the truth. Otherwise, why did God give Adam and Eve the freedom to make the wrong choice? If their moral purity were the greatest good, then he sure screwed up, didn’t he? I would argue that freedom is a greater good than morality. All of human history and the death of his Son is a price God was willing to pay for the sake of freedom.
It annoys me how many Christians, past and present, have been frightened both by the pursuit of truth and by freedom. Of all people, we should know better.
R. P. Nettelhorst Quartz Hill School of Theology Quartz Hill, Calif.
Anti–Semitism at the Roots of Christianity
One can appreciate Lauren Winner’s review of Miri Rubin’s Gentile Tales: The Narrative Assault on Late Medieval Jews [May/June] and still regret that in the process James Carroll’s important new book Constantine’s Sword: The Church and the Jews is treated so dismissively in two opening paragraphs.
Although Carroll is said to be “persuasive” in his presentation of a history that is “deeply troubling and twisted,” everything else about the book is deemed persuasive only to those Christians who “have already all but checked out of the faith.” Winner recommends Rubin’s book “for Christians who agree with Carroll that ‘the story could have gone in a way more consonant with the message of Jesus,’ while yet hoping, contra Carroll, to learn from the past without giving up their faith in the process.”
“Contra Carroll”? Of the many passages throughout the book that could be offered in support of Carroll’s serious Christian commitment, I will quote only this from a section on the resurrection: “His presence was real. On this claim rests the entire structure of Christian religion, and I, for one, recognize it as an unwilled claim on my own experience. The writing of this book is a response to the undefined, unseen, continuing presence in my life of Jesus Christ.” Hardly the words of one who has given up the faith. True, Carroll calls into question a certain orthodox interpretation of Christ’s death and traces its deleterious effects, but those are issues to be debated on their merits.
Near the end of the review, Winner quotes Rubin approvingly when she draws this historical lesson from her study: Because “violent, intolerant language” can lead to violent action, we must pay attention “at the inception of narratives of exclusion, not only at their end” (italics hers).
And so we must. James Carroll would undoubtedly agree, but would insist that we project our attention all the way back through the deeply troubled history of the Church and the Jews to its inception, the fountainhead of the centuries of anti–Semitism that followed–the harsh condemnation of the Jews ascribed to Jesus by the embattled late first–century church–words which arguably Jesus never said.
Carroll’s thoroughly researched, theologically informed, carefully nuanced, and beautifully written history deserves a detailed thoughtful review in its own right, not just as a jumping–off point to another book.
Rudy NelsonAlbany, N.Y.
Democracy Agonistes
Ashley Woodiwiss’s review of books in “Democracy Agonistes” [March/April 2001] revisits the public square and shows contemporary political science’s understanding of the division between those authors who opt for a deliberative democracy and those who opt for an agonistic one. The distance between both of these is not as long as the dichotomy of the reviewer implies since both accord reason some place in order for the citizenry to figure out how to get along together, though, granted, deliberative types expect more from reason than do the more combative agonistic types.
It seems to be that political science, like law, has to see that the increasing divisiveness in the public square is over moral issues and that both of these disciplines have to figure out how morality can come to be considered with some objectivity. The questions they pose and leave unanswered have to have recourse to other disciplines or fields of competence since questions of morality will not get answered procedurally nor by disciplines sitting like silos in the public square. If we are in a situation of moral partisanship, and we most certainly are, theories about political partisanship will not solve our dilemmas.
This leaves us with the question: How can we come from partisan moral positions to hear the other position and either change our own minds or at least come to see the moral value being propounded in positions other than our own? If morality is a merely subjective kind of thing, our moral partisanship is going to become more and more combative and the experiment that is democracy will fail. If morality can get legs beyond and outside the subjective, as I believe it can, it has to prove this by the quality of our ability to hear the reasoning of our adversaries in order to develop our own accordingly. Interactive discourse is not possible if moral values are solely subjective. While authentic subjectivity can hear the moral valuing of another and sort out its value, inauthentic subjectivity is set against and is incapable of discourse in the public square. It can only assert; it can’t hear and learn. So the act of faith that is necessary for democracy, whether agonistic or deliberative is in reason’s ability to hear and develop.
I find the categories of Bernard Lonergan helpful in this matter. He sees subjectivity as needing to overcome four different kinds of biases or mental blocks: those that are unconscious; those that are in the individual’s egoism, those in a group’s egoism; and finally, the bias of common sense which struts as omnicompetent (but in fact knows only the concrete and particular of its own experiences). Two other categories that assist an authentic subjectivity: moral conversion which makes me/us capable of transcending our own needs and wants and stand open to or opts for values socially agreed upon that are consonant with the consciences of the disputing citizenry. Intellectual conversion: I can go from how something appeals to me or disaffects me i.e. from self referential thinking to what–is–in–itself thinking.
Believing in reason is believing in authentic subjectivity (vs. a biased or untranscended use of reason). This is the kind of objectivity we need in order to have a working democracy. Veritas formaliter est solo in judicio. This is not an objectivity that figures out things in political or academic or ecclesial circles and then imposes the conclusions on everyone else. It is an objectivity that all must be invited to enter through the reasonings of those who are in touch with a subjectivity that is open to addressing new questions and answers other than our own.
John Haughey, Sj Professor of Christian Ethics Loyola University Chicago, Ill.
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