Thursday, December 1, 2011

A Tale of Two Philosophies in the Civil Rights Movement

Ecclesiastes 9:11: “The race is not to the swift - It is not by swiftness, nor by strength and valor, that races are gained and battles won.” The Bible teaches that “races” are won by humble virtues like perseverance, excellence and diligence. Christianity’s spread across the ancient Mediterranean world was due in large part to Christians’ persistence in doing good –from saving unwanted babies to caring for the poor and orphaned on Rome’s streets- even under the enormous pressure of persecution. Christianity didn’t conquer the ancient world by overturning the Roman state. No doubt there were those who resented Rome and wanted to fight fire with fire, like the Jewish zealots before them. But this was not to be. Christians chose the plan laid out in the Bible. It was doubtless far harder in the short run, but it guaranteed a lasting victory. Christianity won through sheer perseverance, beating an overconfident but napping Rome at its own game. As the Emperor Julian said, “Nothing has contributed to the progress of the superstition of the Christians so much as their charity to strangers… the impious Galileans provide not only for their own poor, but for ours as well.”

This classic conflict between power and humility, speed and patience, self-confidence and endurance has been played out many times in history. A more recent example can be found in the civil rights movement. The man who was in many ways the father of the movement was Booker T. Washington. He had been born in slavery, the illegitimate son of a white landowner. After his family was freed following the Civil War, Washington had to pull himself up by the bootstraps through working grueling jobs like tending a salt furnace and mining coal. He then worked himself through a secondary education and was appointed as the head of the Tuskegee Institute, a new school for freedmen. Over the years, Washington created a vast network of entrepreneurs, philanthropists (many of them white) and charitable organizations to fund schools and vocational opportunities for African-Americans throughout the South. Although he also worked to end Jim Crow laws and supported civil rights initiatives, his philosophy was not primarily one of setting blacks’ political power against whites’. He believed that any enduring victory won by African-Americans would have to rest on a more solid foundation than ballot-boxes and legal jargon on paper. Just like Christians’ victory in ancient Rome, this would have to be a victory over the hearts, minds and pocket books of the enemy. Better to overcome mistreatment and discrimination by showing how baseless they were than by wresting power and winning a legal victory only. The key was "…industry, thrift, intelligence and property." Washington encouraged African-Americans to become the very best in whatever field they worked. This far-sighted and conciliatory attitude is made even more remarkable when one recalls the difficult circumstances of Washington’s early life and all the reasons he had to harbor bitterness.

But it made him enemies, including a fellow black intellectual named W.E.B. Dubois. Dubois had tremendous talent, the result of an innate gifting helped along by both an upbringing in relative wealth and a Harvard education. Understandably, he was tired of African-Americans plodding along at a snail’s pace towards freedom and acceptance. But this impatience and frustration with discrimination in attitudes and laws - though he had not experienced them the same way Booker T. had – pushed him to advocate for a faster solution. Dubois viewed education and power as the only way to achieve true equality, and he vocally opposed Washington’s strategy, even going so far as to give him the nickname “the Great Compromiser." Through attaining positions of influence in the government, the legal system and academia, African-Americans would be able to shape society to win full equality. Eventually this emphasis on a top-down approach to equality led Dubois and the organization he helped found, the NAACP, to embrace socialism. According to this view, the slow, steady methods of Washington were tantamount to treason

Dubois’ desire to see his race achieve equality in his lifetime was certainly a noble intention, but noble intentions can be hijacked by impatience. If that impatience is allowed to define beliefs, it can lead to embracing the gravely erroneous notion that the “ends justify the means.” Booker T. Washington’s ideas promised no immediate change and may not have not had as much appeal at the time for that reason, but they’ve been vindicated in retrospect. Regardless of the political power wielded by African-Americans, the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s would have been impossible to win long-term without the support of whites nationwide. That support was gained between the 40s and 60s largely because African-Americans had (knowingly or not) followed Washington’s advice: they became the very best at whatever they did. African-Americans’ skill as sports heroes (like Jackie Robinson and Mohammed Ali), singers and musicians (Sam Cooke, Chuck Berry, Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, the Supremes and the Temptations) defined the popular consciousness of the entire nation during the 1960s. Every teenager listened to Doo-Wop, Rock and Roll, Soul and Motown – all genres that had their beginnings in African-American music. Through television and radio, African-American stars found their way into every home and car. A whole generation grew up seeing that the other race was every bit as capable of innovation as their own. African-Americans had won the battle of the mind and heart, therefore ensuring victory in the political battle that Martin Luther King Jr. would lead.

Booker T. Washington’s capitalistic and individualistic philosophy was thus vindicated, making it all the more unfortunate that fifty years later it’s in danger of being thrown away. When the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed, people mistook the culmination of the civil rights movement for its cause. They seized the opportunity to invoke Dubois and use the state as a sort of “savior” for African-Americans. This has since become the prevailing philosophy in talks about equality between the races. It has created endemic dependency on government, poverty. It has also fostered a bitterness and victim mentality that had no place in the life of the one who began the movement - one who had actually known the horrors of life as a slave. Washington would be appalled. In eschewing power and instead stressing industry, excellence, patience and winning the war of the mind, he recognized that it was folly to exchange aristocratic Southern masters for a whole government of far more powerful masters.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Civilization's Prodigal Generation

"The Course of Empire: Consummation," by Thomas Cole, 1836

Hatred of “civilization” is back in vogue. The storm clouds have been gathering for generations, but until recently they were a mere speckling on the horizon, confined to whimsical people like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Paul Gauguin or Margaret Mead – people who could afford to wile away their lifetimes turning their angst into fashionable theories. Few men and women had that privilege. That changed when the Industrial Revolution radically improved living standards all around the world (but particularly the Western world). Not surprisingly, as each succeeding generation saw their parents do things once thought impossible, they began to see the world in new ways. Their sense of mastery grew. With freedom from economic and governmental constraints came a longing for freedom from morality. Evolution wasn’t new (indeed, the essential tenets would have been familiar to all students of Greek philosophy) but the intellectual climate was. Darwin’s theory would have been universally rejected even fifty years before, but now the academia who ruled the Enlightened world jumped at the thought of boarding their ships like Tolkien’s Numenoreans and taking their grievances to the very shores of God’s country.

One hundred and fifty years later we’re still dealing with the fallout. If there is no Creator, then truth is relative, good and evil are mere conventions and life is meaningless. This new understanding of the world has been behind a relentless degrading of civilization, including the institutions, religion and arts that sustain it. It wasn’t so very long ago that Western Civilization courses were considered one of the brightest ornaments of a liberal education. Now there's an extensive campaign to mitigate them where they aren't discarded entirely. Multiculturalism reigns supreme, imposing its fluency in Ebonics, minority history courses, feminist, gay and lesbian studies on impressionable minds. Whether or not there's any intrinsic worth in such subjects, what's galling is that they're passed off as equally important as the humanities or Greek, Roman and American history. We’re essentially told nowadays that the art, architecture and culture of past civilizations, still magnificent to travelers even in ruin, are really no more remarkable than native huts and whittling. It just depends on how you look at it (And parents and teachers wonder why children are underachievers). Triumphs of science and technology that launched revolutions of the human condition are, by extension of this relativistic worldview, fruitless and vain. Thinkers, philosophers and conquering heroes represent oppression, not innovation. Consequently, where real oppression does happen, like to women in Muslim countries, we can’t be morally indignant because that would be insensitive to the culture or circumstances that produced it.

We must be quite a spectacle. Awash in wealth -even in what’s apparently the fiercest economic downturn since the Great Depression- with hardly a care in the world, yet hating every moment of it. Or is this self-loathing only a pretentious front put up to soothe our guilty consciences? If popular culture of the Avatar sort is the slightest indication, the American is to style himself a sort of Citizen Kane. This time disenchantment in Xanadu isn't confined to doubting whether the love of money can satisfy. It extends to doubting the morality of money and money-making themselves. And "Rosebud" is even more elusive. The neo-hippies of the self-sufficiency variety, the entertainment industry and Occupy Wall Street are all panting for a return to some fantastical, pre-Industrial state. Not that this ever existed, but the idea is that everyone farmed (but wasn’t a serf), ate only their own food (but didn’t die of malnutrition), made everything they needed themselves (including mining, smelting and forging all metal implements, presumably) had no need for society’s institutions (but was perfectly safe from theft, war and other myths), money (that cardinal token of vice whereby people are inspired to make things others want to buy) or banks or loans, and yet had plenty of time leftover for self-expression and writing free verse poetry (with homemade paper and ink?). If our familiarity with civilization has bred contempt, then our unfamiliarity with the lack of it has bred fantasies.

Friday, November 18, 2011

The Schism in Modern Political Thought

“I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” It’s better to be consistent - to be hot or cold. Even a man who sells his sword to the wrong cause, but fights like the Devil in defense of it, wins honor and respect from his enemies. In the same way, if a man believes something false, but believes it with all his heart, he earns a kind of honor by his sheer dedication. He weighed the sides of the controversy and chose one to throw his whole weight behind. But a man who's weak, inconsistent or illogical is not only wrong; he’s contemptible.

Perhaps this is why the philosophies of two men continue to inspire so much respect. Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton could not have been farther apart on the political spectrum of 18th century America. Where Jefferson trusted “the people” to order their affairs better than someone in Washington could, Hamilton excoriated them as slaves to the “impulse of passion.” Jefferson wanted low taxes and the self-reliance of local governments; Hamilton wanted high taxes and a policy of easy credit for industries, roads, canals and bridges. Distribution and decentralization of government, the Jeffersonian ideal, stood in stark contrast to Hamilton’s desire for a “common, directing power.” The differences extended into foreign policy as well. The gentleman from Virginia wanted the policy of limited government he advocated on American soil to be equally as limited abroad: “Peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none.” The New York lawyer had his heart set not only on establishing a European-style government, but an army and navy imperial enough to win battles, glory and overseas possessions. Despite all these differences, these two men had one thing in common: the beliefs of each formed a logical, reasoned whole.

Regardless of which man history vindicated, both have an unimpeachable record of intellectual honesty. Both were consistent. They understood that beliefs filter through one’s whole worldview to form an integral whole; beliefs can’t be mixed and matched according to preference. They can't be pawned to win votes or do what’s politically expedient without shaking the whole foundation on which they rest. Hamilton knew and admitted that an aggressive foreign policy required a complex, bureaucratic state at home. Jefferson knew that power corrupted. This led him to the conclusion that small government at home was meaningless if a powerful military establishment tempted the young republic into wars and empire-building. As his friend James Madison said, "War is the parent of armies; from these proceed debts and taxes; and armies, and debts, and taxes are the known instruments for bringing the many under the domination of the few." Republicans today have rebuked their heritage as the party of humble foreign policy and instead embraced a massive military-industrial complex – as if this can be maintained with the low taxes and small government they trumpet. Democrats are no better. How can a welfare state of crony capitalism and exploding government hope to preserve the liberties the party professes such attachment to? Today's administration and its rivals insult our intelligence. Hamilton –whatever else one might say of him- would have known better.

Friday, November 11, 2011

In Praise of Myth

Before God was declared dead in 1882, the European elite had lost their willingness to believe. Nietzsche’s famous statement simply reflected the grave error of thinking that the intelligentsia’s lack of faith had nullified God’s faithfulness. Years before, European academia as a whole, stretched and stressed between rationalism and pantheism for decades, had made the fatal decision to play it safe and discard faith for reason. These Deists, blind to anything but what they could stare at past their own noses, promptly found that the next logical thing to do was to throw out the object of their faith, too.

Yet despite the relentless march of over a century-and-a-half of “progress,” the rocks still haven’t had to cry out (it must be frustrating to be a secular visionary). It seems that faith in something is as fundamentally needed in the human condition - even in its fallen-ness- as breathing. Think about it. It doesn't matter what archaeologists' spades do or don't uncover deep in the English loam. King Arthur held court in Camelot, surrounded by a troop of gallant knights. In the same way, the story of Robin Hood emerging from the shadowy eves of Sherwood Forest to secure justice for the oppressed is every bit as real in our mind's eyes as if he had existed just as the tales say he did. 

Decades of stressing objectivity, empiricism and rationalism in our schools have failed to erase these pictures, these “forms” that lie somewhere in the back of our minds in a place reason can’t reach. In the process of trying to snuff them out and preach only what we can know with absolute certainty, we've reduced history to a jumble of numbers and equations and proofs. Endless pages of quantitative statistics are needed to establish causality – and even then scientists accept that, at best, we can only know “probabilistic” truth. We've bumped up against the same wall through reason for which we through faith out the window.

And here we are, unable to teach Arthur or Robin Hood in history courses; unable to incorporate our highest aspirations and fears – in short, anything resembling a purposeful story – into scholarship. But why? Are these impressions false? Do they pervert our sense of history simply because they can’t be corroborated by a rock some farmer's plow caught upon by chance? Quite obviously, in the search for absolute meaning, it’s a zero-sum game: science has come up just as short as “myth.” I’m not saying legends should be taught as fact, but I am saying that they would not have been believed in the first place unless they contained a grain of truth. More importantly, in their essence they convey more truth than ten thousand pages of quantitative analysis. Arthur embodied for the Welsh the same kind of hope in a temporal redemption that they had in a spiritual one. Robin Hood will always be a lesson of compassion and justice conquering in the face of unjust rulers. In the words of Winston Churchill, "It is all true, or it ought to be." Which is safer? To accept things that we can't know beyond the shadow of a doubt and risk being wrong once in a while, or to acknowledge that we can't know anything?

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Two Wolves and A Sheep

"The Triumph of Representatives," William Hogarth, 1755
The Anglo-Saxon scholar Alcuin once wrote to Charlemagne, “And those people should not be listened to who keep saying the voice of the people is the voice of God, since the riotousness of the crowd is always very close to madness.” We of the 21st century can no doubt agree with Alcuin of the 8th. It’s a disturbing thing when the Mubaraks and Gadhafis of the world are unseated, mistreated or killed by the very people who brought them to power years ago. It would be shameful enough if it had been a single person who had offered himself in service to a master only to turn around and stab him in the back. But what are we to say when the instigator of this madness is an entire people? It makes the theorists’ claim that the people are a safer repository for liberty than the prince look specious at best.

One would have divine sanction for these macabre doubts, too. There is no religion in the world so opposed to the Tyranny of the 51% as Christianity. Chapter 23 of the Book of Exodus contains a prescient warning against such mob rule: “Do not follow the crowd in doing wrong. When you give testimony in a lawsuit, do not pervert justice by siding with the crowd….” The New Testament continues this theme vividly. Indeed, we Christians have the distinction of being the only religion who can claim God as a casualty of democratic vote. Though he was raised from the dead, this was the work of an autocrat.

My point is not that monarchy or oligarchy is better than good, old “demokratis,” which, as an ideal, has been there right along with us throughout all the summers of Western Civilization. No, I agree too much with Winston Churchill that “…democracy is the worst form of government - except all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.” Christianity recognizes that all men are equal, that they are given rights by their Creator – and this is the foundation of democracy. But it's not the cornerstone. Intimate knowledge of our own sin is. Truly, the only thing that makes the voice of people the voice of God is when the people know they are the farthest things possible from God. When they can acknowledge that they are the silliest, most temperamental and dangerous beings in the universe, then democratic government just may work – fingers crossed.

This knowledge of our fallenness is the vital ingredient missing from democracy across the globe today. It’s why Athens and republican Rome fell thousands of years ago and the French and Bolshevik revolutions created Hell on earth. It’s why the media’s pet Arab revolutions never know what to do but tear themselves apart once Big Brother’s gone. It’s why Occupy Wall Street’s solution is far worse than the problem. We’re no longer democrats because we recognize that we can’t trust ourselves with power over other people. We’re democrats because we think that we deserve whatever anyone else has. The same rights, the same treatment and the same amount of money. Bertrand Russell was right: "Envy is the basis of democracy."

Thursday, October 20, 2011

The Language of Creation

"Caspar David Friedrich in his Studio,"
Georg Friedrich Kersting, 1819
Christmas Day, 1807. The Count of Thun and his family fought blustery winds on their way to their private chapel at Tetschen castle, Bohemia. This year's religious pageantry was made all the more spectacular by a new addition to the sanctuary. There, in place of the old, ponderous altar-piece stood a newly-finished masterwork. A glinting frame enrounded a painting of Calvary reimagined in an Alpine setting, craggy and crowned by firs. The cross itself stood silhouetted by the brilliant pink hues of a setting sun. This was The Cross on the Mountains, the first major work in what was to be the long and brilliant career of German painter Caspar David Friedrich.

This painting was not just an expression of faith, it was a way for the Thun family to show a cosmopolitan streak. Friedrich’s work was part of a fashionable new movement that was attempting to wash the Enlightenment out of Western Europe. The previous century's overreaching search for rational truth had left the earth a barren wasteland through its insatiable desire to force all knowledge inside of men’s heads. Mysteries and miracles that didn’t conform to formulas had been rejected. For the first time in centuries, Christianity had been publicly attacked. The artists in this new school styled themselves “romantics.” By depicting the inexplicable, the beautiful, and most of all, nature in its glory, they sought to free men from bondage to their minds. Others, chief among them Caspar David Friedrich, painted to remind men that it was not just truth that could be found throughout all of creation, but the truth of the Christian God.

The Cross on the Mountains drew its most vehement criticism, not from Deistic intellectuals, but from a most unlikely source: a fellow Christian. That Christian was the aptly named Basilius von Ramdohr. Unlike Friedrich, von Ramdohr was born and bred among the upper classes of German society. He had acquired a reputation as a conservative lawyer and defender of traditional German values, which led to a career as a cultural critic. With a hint of contempt, no doubt, von Ramdohr went to see Friedrich’s much talked about "romantic" piece when it was on special display. He was deeply unsettled by the painting, so much so, in fact, that he wrote a painstakingly long refutation of the ideas he saw represented in it. He objected that the pine trees had been illustrated to the point of painting each needle. The way the light was rendered was against “all the rules of optics.” And what of landscape paintings themselves? Surely nature itself can contain no explicit meaning and is improper in a church. The rock was rendered poorly, a “most strident contrast to the bright sky, without any transition or harmony.” Perhaps worst of all, in von Ramdohr's opinion, the cross was not located in the center of the painting, and Jesus was not facing the viewer – and surely this would convey the wrong message to worshipers..

With his fledgling reputation at stake, Friedrich was forced to respond. His answer? “Jesus Christ, nailed to the tree, is turned here towards the sinking sun, the image of the eternal, life-giving father. With Jesus’ teachings, an old world dies – that time when God the Father moved directly on the earth. This sun sank and the earth was not able to grasp the departing light any longer. There shines forth in the gold of the evening light the purest, noble metal of the Savior’s figure on the cross, which thus reflects the earth in a softened glow. The cross stands erect on a rock, unshakeably firm like our faith in Jesus Christ. The firs stand around the cross, evergreen, enduring through all ages, like the hopes of man in Him, the crucified.”

Unfortunately, it is very easy for us Christians to make the same mistake von Ramdohr did. In our very desire to keep the Gospel pure, it is tempting to keep our artists in the shadows. We are prone to confusing convention with the Gospel; to thinking that a change in style means a change in substance. Can God only speak through us when we make sure that two pieces of wood are at the exact center of our painting like von Ramdohr wanted? The Bible tells us that God can speak through donkeys, rocks, burning bushes and David’s harp-playing. We forget that though symbols may change, Christ himself can still remain at the center of the work. The greatest stories of salvation are usually told, not through hackneyed altar-calls, but through metaphors. Jesus’ parables are prime examples of this. And what is nature but a majestic metaphor? By depicting Creation in a way that's good and beautiful (Philippians 4:8), we can challenge peoples' deepest beliefs. A God who's evident through the physical world challenges today's naturalists in a way they can't respond to. On the other hand, to deny nature’s revelation of God like von Ramdohr did is to deny what God called “good.” Like the Apostle Paul before his conversion, this man was an intellectual who thought he was advancing the kingdom of God by purging it of false revelation. It turned out that what they were both calling false was God's voice. What place do landscape paintings have in church? Friedrich showed in his response what the psalmist declared long before in chapter 19: "The heavens declare the glory of the Lord; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge."

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Becoming the Beast

"Justice and Divine Vengeance Pursuing Crime," Pierre-Paul Prud'hon, 1808
No one can fail to have heard about the assassination of Anwar al-Alwaki last week. What you may not have heard was how unprecedented this killing was. Never before (as far as I'm aware) has our government been legally allowed to kill anyone, much less a citizen, without having to prove his guilt in trial. His guilt was beyond doubt? It doesn't matter. I’ve written about this previously, but there’s a reason that our symbol of Justice, the Roman goddess Justitia, is portrayed with a blind-fold and a scale. These aren’t just artistic flourishes; they communicate a deep truth. God’s justice is perfect. He is "no respecter of persons" - he is blind. He always convicts the guilty and exonerates the innocent because he can see into their hearts and minds and can separate truth from lies - he is balanced. Our human judges thankfully don’t have this same omniscience, and “there’s the rub” in this case. Whatever blood may have been on his head, Alwaki was killed unjustly because he never got a chance to defend himself to the nation. Without the accused having that chance, the verdicts of governments, judges and juries can be easily mistaken. They can be swayed by their own prejudices, false testimony and their own lack of knowledge. Verdicts are, at best, educated guesses. Then how can we protect the innocent from being hauled into court and jailed or executed on false premises? How do we keep justice blind and balanced like a scale? These were just the questions Englishmen faced in the 17th century and Americans in the 18th century: kings and courts abusing their powers to bend people to their tyrannical wills.

As the Anglo-American world found out, the answer lay in keeping true to the old maxim “innocent until proven guilty.” This principle has been the cornerstone of our legal system ever since. After all, the men who codified our laws had lurid experiences with judges who convicted the innocent so as to increase royal power in the colonies. Even before that hard lesson, however, our Founding Fathers had defended the innocent even when it was incredibly inconvenient. Two examples will suffice. After the Boston Massacre, John Adams (a lawyer in Boston at that time) thought it was so important to give a fair trial to the British soldiers involved in the shooting that he went against his every inclination (he later hazarded angry mobs, his reputation and his livelihood) to defend them personally. Bostonians were caught up in the tragedy of the moment and wanted the soldiers dead. Wasn’t their guilt evident enough after three people lay bleeding in the streets? But human passions can cloud fair judgment. What they took to be certain guilt was actually not so certain at all, as Adams proved. Or take Thomas Jefferson, who, as a young lawyer, took slaves and free blacks as clients to defend in court, when having dark-skinned clients was enough to imperil even the most well established law practice.

Given how integral this idea of blind, even-handed justice is to Christianity, and how it launched the life of our nation and its heroes, it’s deeply unsettling that many Americans and Christians are ignoring our government's departure from these principles in the case of Alwaki's assassination. Alwaki was not shot on a battleground. In fact, as far as we know he only ever preached violence. While there can be little doubt judging from his sermons that Alwaki was an evil man, the simple fact is that, under our Constitution, even the most evil of men are entitled to a fair trial for their crimes. Nazis whose guilt was established beyond the residue of doubt were famously given trials at Nuremberg. Although Southerners were regarded as traitors after the Civil War, those who were captured outside the field of battle were at least afforded hearings in military courts. According to the Bible, conviction of murder (not the preaching of murder, but murder) requires the testimony of “two or three witnesses.” (Deut. 17:6) The verse goes on: “…no one shall be put to death on the testimony of only one witness.” And what about when the person himself isn't a murderer? Are the testimonies of fewer witnesses required to convict him than to convict an actual  murderer? Why, even Iran sees the need to keep up the semblance of a capital trial as it tries to convict Yousef Nadarkhani. The fact that our "Christian" government doesn’t feel compelled to put on a charade of justice should give us pause to consider whether, through fear of our enemy, we are becoming the beast we mean to destroy.

Monday, September 26, 2011

The Forgotten Father of Constitutional Liberty

Stephen Langton, from the exterior of
Canterbury Cathedral
Very little is known about Stephen Langton's childhood. What we do know is that he was born in the late twelfth century in the county of Lincolnshire. He first emerges from the shadow of obscurity as a star pupil at the University of Paris, where he befriended a fellow student who later became Innocent III, the most powerful of medieval popes. Thanks to this friendship, Langton was made a cardinal years later. He became renowned throughout Europe as a prolific expositor of scripture, publishing commentaries and treatises  - he even divided the Bible into the chapter/verse format we're so familiar with today. As profound as these accomplishments were, they pale in comparison with his greatest.

Hundreds of miles away, Langton's home was being torn between the teeth of Normans and Saxons, rich and poor, barons and king, church and state. The latest controversy was who would be Archbishop of Canterbury and therefore control the English church. King John had his man who would be sure to be loyal to the Crown, and the churchmen of England had theirs. Innocent III, ever intent on strengthening Papal power wherever it reached, saw an opportunity here to bring the English church firmly under Rome's control. He stepped in and engineered the election of a third candidate: a friend and a champion of the church; someone who would take orders from Rome without question. Langton's election was thus engineered, and King John's vengeance predictably broke out like a torrent.The struggle mounted until the king's plundering of the church resulted in his excommunication.

As serious as this conflict was, in English minds it was only a sideshow to one that had been simmering for centuries - that of barons and king. Every monarch since William the Conqueror had seen his greed for land, power and money frustrated by his equally greedy nobility. These barons were tired of spending their lives and fortunes in fruitless contests for what they considered the foreign lands in France.This friction between throne and fief had embroiled the kingdom in almost constant civil war for generations. Now that King John had been declared apostate by the church, this civil war became a holy war for the barons.

There seemed to be a thousand different ambitions clashing in the realm, like a pack of dogs tearing each other to pieces without a goal in mind. Langton saw an opportunity to bring order from the chaos, and it was now that he leaped into the contest. He had been reminded of something which the lords and churchmen of England could use to the advantage of themselves and the kingdom and posterity. He called for a council of churchmen and barons at Westminster, where he reminded those assembled of a certain "Charter of Liberties" which John's great-grandfather, Henry I, had been compelled by the barons to sign. True enough, that charter had dealt with only inconsequential matters like the illegality of certain fees kings had been accustomed to collect. But Langton saw here a precedent: that kings, too, were under the law. The Charter of Liberties should be expanded, renewed, and used to keep a lawless king accountable. With loud shouts of acclamation, the council swore an oath to conquer or die in defense of their liberties.

By now, however, the wily king had outmaneuvered his enemies. By swallowing his pride and submitting to the pope he had secured a powerful ally, but it had not been without a price. John's olive branch was nothing less than England itself - it would be governed as a Papal fief. Innocent III had jumped at the opportunity, but Langton balked. The last thing he wanted was more exploitation of the English people, whether from Westminster or Rome. Yet, the tables were now turned against him, and his cause was still fruitless. Continuing the struggle to check the king would mean going against the full might of both church and state. Perhaps Innocent had been misinformed. Clinging to that hope, the archbishop urged the barons to continue their efforts to check the king's ambition by refusing to submit to his taxes, and pressuring him to renew the Charter of Liberties or face open rebellion. John remained unmoved, and so in June 1215 the barons gathered their might to march on London, whose gates were thrown open by a sympathetic populace. There, with support from both France and Scotland, they forced John to agree to approve a royal charter that recognized the rights of his noblemen and, for the first time, codified legal limits to the king's power. Langton hurriedly set to work articulating the barons' grievances.

Dutifully, and no doubt seethingly, the king and his entourage processed to the nearby meadow of Runnymede to sign this charter in the midday sun of June 15, 1215. What he was forced to affix his seal to cannot have pleased him.The charter that Langton and the barons produced went far beyond the provisions of the Charter of Liberties in its effort to restrain the Crown. A few examples will suffice: Section 12 of this "Great Charter" said that "No scutage or aid shall be imposed on the kingdom unless by common counsel...." This principle became a rallying cry that found its way into subsequent charters until it was enshrined in the English Bill of Rights and became a principle of our own Revolution: "no taxation without representation." Section 20 said that barons could only be judged by their peers, not by courts in the pocket of the king. Freemen, too, would be judged by the oaths of honest men in their own neighborhoods. If this principle of English liberty sounds familiar it's because the Sixth Amendment of our Constitution contains it: "In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed." The guarantee of a "speedy trial" was also found originally in Magna Charta: "To no one will we sell, to no one will we refuse or delay, right or justice." The document further guaranteed the rights of merchants, provided that all sheriffs and constables would be "competent" and first enumerated the idea of a constitutional government: "All fines made... against the law of the land...shall be entirely remitted." To enforce these concessions, a council of 25 barons was appointed to oversee the king, his laws and fines.

Shortly after signing Magna Charta, John proceeded to break nearly every rule in it with the full sanction of Innocent III (who also condemned the document). John's successors, too, were not particularly more faithful to its idealistic clauses. But this does not mean that Langton's work was forgotten. It gave the struggle against tyranny a profound legitimacy, and the idea of a limited monarch entered into political thought. To see just how much the document mattered to the nation, consider that over the next two hundred years, the English kings were forced to renew the document over 30 times. Finally, during the dictatorial reign of Charles I (1600-1649), what were by now considered centuries' old liberties were transferred into the English Bill of Rights, thus diffusing throughout the English-speaking world to, among other places, America, where the principles Langton had devoted his life to securing found their way into colonial charters, state constitutions, and the United States Constitution itself.


Thursday, September 8, 2011

Rousseau, Human Nature and Our Foreign Policy Problem

Put aside for a moment the constitutional arguments (and they are many) against being involved in the internal squabblings of governments overseas. Put aside the pragmatic arguments of finance and sustainability that see these wars for the vacuous black hole that they are. Even put aside the Founding Fathers' warnings against "foreign entanglements." Let's examine the philosophical moorings required to think we can"make the world safe for democracy."

As Christians, it is our duty to not only recognize, but actively live like we believe that sin is something each of us has the choice -the free-will- to indulge in or resist. Furthermore, God tells us in his word that man is fallen, that he delights in sin, just as St. Augustine delighted in stealing an apple, not to eat, but for the pure pleasure of sinning.  How does this reverberate into how we should see man's place in civil society? He is a law-breaker by choice. 

Not everyone agrees with what the Bible says, however. In fact, for a couple hundred years now it's been in vogue to take a position that owes more to Jean Jacques Rousseau: that man is born free and decent, and it's society's institutions that corrupt him. Break the back of these institutions and a violent man suddenly finds himself cherubized. Freud agreed. Man is a complex animal without a soul who responds to impulses in his environment. Pavlov believed that his famous discovery of reinforcement and the salivating dog was equally true of human beings: man is mechanical and needs stimuli to provoke the "right" responses. As these theories became mainstream, education shifted from its classical focus on searching for truth and instead began treating children like Pavlov's dog. It became about conditioning children to make the right responses to stimuli in the world.

Once this generation of children became adults, they could be found at the helm of this nation and most others in the Western world. They had a firm belief in the innate goodness of man - if only the harmful stimuli can be removed. Man is perfectible if he can just be given the right environment. Crime was no longer the rebellion of the soul, it was the automatic response to poverty and inner-city decay. Housing projects and the welfare state resulted. But there was something else, too. If this picture of human nature was true, then it was now within the grasp of the government of the United States of America not only to perfect its own citizens, but to perfect the citizens of the world - in effect to create a new world order of peace and prosperity for all. To free them to that natural state that Rousseau had talked about. Remove the evil effects of institutions and governments and you will cure the men under them. Or in more modern terms: "If we only remove the dictators, they will be good people." The French tried it in their Revolution of 1789. We did it in Cuba, in Europe (twice) and all across the third world ever since, and we've seen how it's played out. Iran was one of our first projects in the 1950s. Now it's Iraq and Afghanistan, which, despite all dreams of flag-waving Iraqi children, are not Jeffersonian democracies or anything remotely like. Egypt has been delivered, not to democracy, but to the Muslim Brotherhood. Now there are reports that Libya may be falling under the sway of Al Qaeda.

The problem of our foreign policy is primarily a problem with our view of human nature. Try as we might to export freedom and American ideals, our plans will continue to backfire until we understand that we cannot make men and women desire freedom by getting rid of the evil around them. Correcting our foreign policy starts with understanding that sin is a choice; that any inherent desire for freedom and democracy in the human race is outweighed by an inherent desire to sin. People around the world need to be reached by the Great Commission, not by Operation Odyssey Dawn.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Thomas Jefferson and Leading By Example

A perilously high national debt, burdensome taxes, corruption, political favors, extreme partisanship, a powerful executive branch, and a bitterly divided government. Does any of this sound familiar? It may surprise you, then, that I’m describing the United States as it was in the afterglow of John Adams’ administration over two hundred years ago. It’s true that, in relative terms, taxes, debt and the size of the national government in 1800 were a vastly different affair from what they are today. But it was a more principled world, where infractions that we may think small were taken greater notice of and recognized as a threatening precedent for posterity.

Carried by the tumultuous winds of politics, it was the Virginia gentleman, philosopher and statesman Thomas Jefferson who was chosen to lead the young nation. He was to be a sort of shepherd to lead them away from the shadowy valleys of nationalism to the still waters of republicanism. Although dubious as usual about being away from Monticello, Jefferson ascended triumphantly -but without Adam's pomp and circumstance- into the swamp that was Washington D.C. (it was still under construction). After ten years of European-style experiments with national banks, standing armies, censorship of newspapers, excise taxes and piling on of debt, Americans were ready to see the Revolutionary goal of “a wise and frugal government” manifested. They got just that in the “Revolution of 1800.”

We are familiar today with incoming presidents talking up bipartisanship and then proceeding to stack their deck with friends, relatives and donors. Typically, they blame the other side of the aisle for every problem the country experiences. Jefferson set a different course. After declaring "We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists" in his First Inaugural Address, he answered Adams' last minute stuffing of the government with Federalists with stunning decency. By refusing to replace any except the most dogmatic among them with Republicans, the president diffused the cyclical feuding that had seized the nation for years. The next problem to fix was one of finance, and Jefferson began by selling  the stately coach, swords and elements of ceremony that Adams and Washington had favored. The president of the nation's first republic could often be seen braving the muddy streets of Washington on foot. The example he intended to set among his countrymen extended to his dress, which was very plain, a practice most shocking to foreign dignitaries. He made himself readily available to any and all. In fact, it was his rule to respond to every letter, and receive every guest who called on him during his presidency.

The federal government in 1800 was minuscule by today's standards, employing around 130 men. However, a number of these had been hired by the treasury under Hamilton's spendthrift secretaryship. Jefferson thought the positions an unnecessary waste of the peoples' money, so he eliminated them. In like manner, he scrapped more than half the navy (believing it encouraged foreign adventurism), reducing the government's expenditures by more than 25% even while abolishing the excise taxes that the previous administrations had devised. To Jefferson, a government with debt unnecessarily led its people down the road to servitude. A couple years of thriftiness later, his administration became the first to entirely pay off the national debt. Although some of Jefferson's later years would tarnish the brilliant beginning of his presidency, he left an example of how a president who leads by example, and is the first to take the sacrifices he asks others to accept, can heal a torn nation and give it a strength and solvency that has yet to be matched again.

Friday, June 3, 2011

From Burke's "On the Sublime and Beautiful:" the Effects of Tragedy

"IT is thus in real calamities. In imitated distresses the only difference is the pleasure resulting from the effects of imitation; for it is never so perfect, but we can perceive it is imitation, and on that principle are somewhat pleased with it. And indeed in some cases we derive as much or more pleasure from that source than from the thing itself. But then I imagine we shall be much mistaken, if we attribute any considerable part of our satisfaction in tragedy to the consideration that tragedy is a deceit, and its representations no realities. The nearer it approaches the reality, and the farther it removes us from all idea of fiction, the more perfect is its power. But be its power of what kind it will, it never approaches to what it represents. Choose a day on which to represent the most sublime and affecting tragedy we have; appoint the most favourite actors; spare no cost upon the scenes and decorations, unite the greatest efforts of poetry, painting, and music; and when you have collected your audience, just at the moment when their minds are erect with expectation, let it be reported that a state criminal of high rank is on the point of being executed in the adjoining square; in a moment the emptiness of the theatre would demonstrate the comparative weakness of the imitative arts, and proclaim the triumph of the real sympathy. I believe that this notion of our having a simple pain in the reality, yet a delight in the representation, arises from hence, that we do not sufficiently distinguish what we would by no means choose to do, from what we should be eager enough to see if it was once done. The delight in seeing things, which, so far from doing, our heartiest wishes would be to see redressed. This noble capital, the pride of England and of Europe, I believe no man is so strangely wicked as to desire to see destroyed by a conflagration or an earthquake, though he should be removed himself to the greatest distance from the danger. But suppose such a fatal accident to have happened, what numbers from all parts would crowd to behold the ruins, and amongst many who would have been content never to have seen London in its glory! Nor is it, either in real or fictitious distresses, our immunity from them which produces our delight; in my own mind I can discover nothing like it. I apprehend that this mistake is owing to a sort of sophism, by which we are frequently imposed upon; it arises from our not distinguishing between what is indeed a necessary condition to our doing or suffering anything in general, and what is the cause of some particular act. If a man kills me with a sword, it is a necessary condition to this that we should have been both of us alive before the fact; and yet it would be absurd to say, that our being both living creatures was the cause of his crime and of my death. So it is certain, that it is absolutely necessary my life should be out of any imminent hazard, before I can take a delight in the sufferings of others, real or imaginary, or indeed in anything else from any cause whatsoever. But then it is a sophism to argue from thence, that this immunity is the cause of my delight either on these or on any occasions. No one can distinguish such a cause of satisfaction in his own mind, I believe; nay, when we do not suffer any very acute pain, nor are exposed to any imminent danger of our lives, we can feel for others, whilst we suffer ourselves; and often then most when we are softened by affliction; we see with pity even distresses which we would accept in the place of our own."

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Florence: the Architecture of a Renaissance

To live in Florence in the mid-fifteenth century was to be at the center of the world and the crossroads –or as it seemed to its inhabitants, the fount- of civilization. The narrow, medieval streets had given way to stately lanes wide enough to accommodate bustling cavalcades of merchants and tradesmen. All along the streets stretched shops upon shops. Rising above these were palazzos flanked by high gates, geometric gardens and statuary. This was the reign of Lorenzo de Medici, or “Lorenzo the Magnificent” as he quietly encouraged himself to be known. The Medici were a medieval success story. Over several generations, they had pulled themselves from obscurity to become the bankers to many noble families in Italy. They had even earned the distinction of protecting the Papacy's enormous assets. Since the turn of the fifteenth century, a combination of trade, usury and philanthropy under the Medicis' direction had transformed Florence into the "Athens of the Middle Ages" and the home and patron of Europe's master artisans.

The city was anything but peaceful, and its wealth made it a tempting prize to other city states. The busy streets were not seldom the site of riots, workers' strikes, and lynchings by families jealous of the Medici's power. In the midst of this tumult, Florentines learned that it is neither peace nor security that guarantees prosperity. Like Athens millenia before, the city-state of Florence was the birthplace of a renaissance (in this case, the Renaissance) because of the competitive spirit of its people and rulers. The ingredients were all there. As early as the 13th century, the guilds had secured fair competition through the "Ordinances of Justice." Florence was also the home to Europe's soundest currency since antiquity: the "florin." This foundation of lawful commerce paved the way for an explosion of enterprise. Much to the consternation of the common people of the city, immigrants (the "gente nuovo") poured in, pushing costs of labor down and production sky high.

This race for employment shows only one facet of how deeply ingrained competition was in the Florentine psyche. The master sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti was chosen from among many contest entrants to build the "Gates of Paradise" for the Battistero of San Giovanni. Brunelleschi's spectacular dome -the greatest architectural feat in a millenium- that sits atop Florence Cathedral was likewise a prize-winning design. In fact, the masterpieces of Florence's Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Sandro Botticelli all emerged from the dust of this struggle to win contracts from noble families and the Papacy. This was an era before reckless self-expression hampered the creative genius of artists, and art's inspiration was found in the tastes and culture of its audience. "Primavera," "Mona Lisa," the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and countless other masterpieces, all stand as testimonies, not only of timeless beauty and vision, but of how "infinite in faculty" the human genius can be when allowed to enjoy the fruits of its labor.

Friday, May 27, 2011

From The Confessions of St. Augustine, Book II: Sin a Counterfeit of God

 "For so doth pride imitate exaltedness; whereas Thou alone art God exalted over all. Ambition, what seeks it, but honours and glory? whereas Thou alone art to be honoured above all, and glorious for evermore. The cruelty of the great would fain be feared; but who is to be feared but God alone, out of whose power what can be wrested or withdrawn? when, or where, or whither, or by whom? The tendernesses of the wanton would fain be counted love: yet is nothing more tender than Thy charity; nor is aught loved more healthfully than that Thy truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity makes semblance of a desire of knowledge; whereas Thou supremely knowest all. Yea, ignorance and foolishness itself is cloaked under the name of simplicity and uninjuriousness; because nothing is found more single than Thee: and what less injurious, since they are his own works which injure the sinner? Yea, sloth would fain be at rest; but what stable rest besides the Lord? Luxury affects to be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art the fulness and never-failing plenteousness of incorruptible pleasures. Prodigality presents a shadow of liberality: but Thou art the most overflowing Giver of all good. Covetousness would possess many things; and Thou possessest all things. Envy disputes for excellency: what more excellent than Thou? Anger seeks revenge: who revenges more justly than Thou? Fear startles at things unwonted and sudden, which endangers things beloved, and takes forethought for their safety; but to Thee what unwonted or sudden, or who separateth from Thee what Thou lovest? Or where but with Thee is unshaken safety? Grief pines away for things lost, the delight of its desires; because it would have nothing taken from it, as nothing can from Thee.

"Thus doth the soul commit fornication, when she turns from Thee, seeking without Thee, what she findeth not pure and untainted, till she returns to Thee. Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee, who remove far from Thee, and lift themselves up against Thee. But even by thus imitating Thee, they imply Thee to be the Creator of all nature; whence there is no place whither altogether to retire from Thee. What then did I love in that theft? and wherein did I even corruptly and pervertedly imitate my Lord? Did I wish even by stealth to do contrary to Thy law, because by power I could not, so that being a prisoner, I might mimic a maimed liberty by doing with impunity things unpermitted me, a darkened likeness of Thy Omnipotency? Behold, Thy servant, fleeing from his Lord, and obtaining a shadow. O rottenness, O monstrousness of life, and depth of death! could I like what I might not, only because I might not? For so doth pride imitate exaltedness; whereas Thou alone art God exalted over all. Ambition, what seeks it, but honours and glory? whereas Thou alone art to be honoured above all, and glorious for evermore. The cruelty of the great would fain be feared; but who is to be feared but God alone, out of whose power what can be wrested or withdrawn? when, or where, or whither, or by whom? The tendernesses of the wanton would fain be counted love: yet is nothing more tender than Thy charity; nor is aught loved more healthfully than that Thy truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity makes semblance of a desire of knowledge; whereas Thou supremely knowest all. Yea, ignorance and foolishness itself is cloaked under the name of simplicity and uninjuriousness; because nothing is found more single than Thee: and what less injurious, since they are his own works which injure the sinner? Yea, sloth would fain be at rest; but what stable rest besides the Lord? Luxury affects to be called plenty and abundance; but Thou art the fulness and never-failing plenteousness of incorruptible pleasures. Prodigality presents a shadow of liberality: but Thou art the most overflowing Giver of all good. Covetousness would possess many things; and Thou possessest all things. Envy disputes for excellency: what more excellent than Thou? Anger seeks revenge: who revenges more justly than Thou? Fear startles at things unwonted and sudden, which endangers things beloved, and takes forethought for their safety; but to Thee what unwonted or sudden, or who separateth from Thee what Thou lovest? Or where but with Thee is unshaken safety? Grief pines away for things lost, the delight of its desires; because it would have nothing taken from it, as nothing can from Thee."   

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The General Welfare Clause

Ever since the mid 20th century, it's been fashionable to believe that the Constitution was written to give government the power to do essentially whatever it wishes. Nothing could be further from the truth. The entire Bill of Rights builds on the foundation set by the First Amendment, which begins: “Congress shall make no law...” This document was not written to give powers to the government, but to keep government from seizing powers. If the Constitution specifically mentioned, or “ennumerated,” a power (such as the power to found a post office), then that was a legitimate power. Whatever was not mentioned (such as the power to regulate the food we eat) was, in the words of the Tenth Amendment, “reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.” This wasn't just a novel idea thought up by philosopher-statesmen. This was the result of years under an oppressive British government that had claimed to have more than its ennumerated powers.

Writing in Federalist #45, James Madison, the “Father of the Constitution,” observed, "The powers delegated by the proposed Constitution to the federal government are few and defined.” (emphasis added) Thomas Jefferson wrote in 1798 that “...whensoever the general government assumes undelegated powers, its acts are unauthoritative, void, and of no force.”

Originally, these were common beliefs. Anything broader was extreme. But an egregiously broad interpretation is just what both neoconservatives and liberals use today to justify their statist machinations, whether it be the welfare state or the warfare state. One, poor sentence in the Constitution called the General Welfare clause is invoked most often as justification. This clause, it is argued, is a gateway for the government to take upon itself whatever powers it deems are in the “general welfare.” Here's what the clause actually says:

“The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States....” (Article I, Section VIII)

It's important to note that “Welfare” is not used in the sense of  “financial relief of impoverished citizens.” That usage is an invention of recent years. What this clause is saying is that the government can only collect money and use it in pursuance of a power that is not only ennumerated, but benefits everyone in the entire nation – the “general Welfare.” An example of taxes raised and money spent for the “general Welfare” would be funding for national security. But isn't providing for the “general Welfare” an ennumerated power in itself? No. Why, then, would the rest of Article VIII bother to spell out the specific powers granted to the federal government, like that to create “needful buildings?” Madison himself said, “For what purpose could the enumeration of particulars be inserted, if these and all others were meant to be included in the preceding general power?”

No Supreme Court ruling during the entire history of the Republic ever held otherwise – until the late 1930s. Up until that point, the Court had resisted Franklin D. Roosevelt's agenda of vastly expanding federal power. After the president infamously threatened to “pack” the Court with justices of his choosing, however, the justices' decisions coincidentally began to rubber-stamp the New Deal agenda. Two of these cases in particular, United States v. Butler and Helvering v. Davis, expanded the nation's view of the General Welfare clause to allow the Social Security system to be erected. This was then enshrined in the minds of succeeding generations, courtesy of the public school system.

The problem that a loose view of the General Welfare clause creates used to be obvious. So obvious, in fact, that James Madison predicted it in 1792: “If Congress can employ money indefinitely to the general welfare, and are the sole and supreme judges of the general welfare, they may take the care of religion into their own hands; they may appoint teachers in every State, county and parish and pay them out of their public treasury; they may take into their own hands the education of children, establishing in like manner schools throughout the Union; they may assume the provision of the poor; they may undertake the regulation of all roads other than post-roads; in short, every thing, from the highest object of state legislation down to the most minute object of police, would be thrown under the power of Congress…. Were the power of Congress to be established in the latitude contended for, it would subvert the very foundations, and transmute the very nature of the limited Government established by the people of America.”

Monday, May 2, 2011

The Measure of All Things

Human beings have a rare talent for abusing power. For millenia, we've bound ourselves by oaths to protect ourselves and others from our own avarice for just this reason. The oaths follow a common formula. Usually a deity is called upon as a witness and becomes the rule against which the oath-taker's actions and intentions are to be judged by his fellow men. If the promises made are kept, blessings are expected; if the terms are violated, curses divine and human will follow. Either way, justice is done so that life and well-being are secured.

These oaths aren't just for officeholders or magistrates, but for any human being who finds himself faced with the gravity of holding the life or death of another in his hands. Hippocrates of Cos, the ancient Greek physician and “father of medicine”, was in just such a position. Strongly pro-life, his famous “Hippocratic Oath” contains the line “...I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy.” Because of its harmony with Biblical views on the sanctity of life, this oath was administered unaltered by many western medical colleges until the late twentieth century, when such an antiquated line was tossed aside in favor of feeble advice such as “...tread with care in matters of life and death.” Other cultures across the world have also, by and large, forsaken their commitment to life. Japan's “Seventeen Rules of Enjui” (echoing Hippocrates' oath in its condemnation of abortion) no longer bind its doctors. Nor do Jewish doctors practice under the constraints of anything like their ancient “Code of Asaph”.

One of the more recent oaths required of the medical profession is the Physicians' Oath of 1948. After the physician pledges his life to the “service of humanity”, the oath goes on “I will maintain the utmost respect for human life from the time of conception, even under threat, I will not use my medical knowledge contrary to the laws of humanity.” Defending life from conception was not long possible once mankind had become “the measure of all things” Today, most medical students graduating will take an oath that values human choice more than it does human life -a logical step if mankind is God. They would do well to remember the first time our race abused its freedom of choice and played God. The fruit Satan offers may appear different, but God’s words remain the same – “The moment you eat from it you are surely doomed to die.”

Friday, April 29, 2011

"Reserved to the States..."

A quick read-through of the Bill of Rights will leave you with a sense of how narrow the powers were that our Founders gave the Federal government. The First Amendment begins with the words “Congress shall make no law...” and the rest of the document continues in that vein. Congress' rights are limited so that the peoples' rights can be preserved. It's not that Madison and the other Framers didn't have a wealth of good ideas to pour into the new republic. They could have written dozens of pages into the Consitution to denote what every aspect of life should be like. Instead, they wrote 6 pages. This is because the power to determine all issues except for the ones addressed in the Constitution was left to the states, or to the people. Whether a state's citizens pass harmful laws or not, the federal government is duty bound to respect their decisions. Just like a family should never have to be told how to raise their children whether they do it poorly or well, so the states -closest to the people they serve- should be allowed to exercise their own discretion.

That's why it's disturbing to see Christians increasingly looking to Washington D.C. to define moral issues. Amendment X clearly leaves these “to the States respectively, or to the people”. Yet, some pro-lifers suggest that a Constitutional amendment would solve our problems. The proposal is to enlarge Amendments V or XIV to define when life begins. Though well intended, the addition of these words would fundamentally transform our Constitution. For the first time in its long history, it would be offering a moral definition. Once this weapon was added to the arsenal of government, everything sacred could be laid bare before the power of the state. Neither church nor individuals would have the shelter the Constitution was meant to provide in matters of faith. One day this power would be misused. What if an amendment were passed that defined marriage as between “two individuals”, for example? Unable to resist a Constitutional mandate, voters in the states could no longer decide for themselves. Before we rush into a legislative solution, let's remember that it was the Supreme Court's Roe vs. Wade that declared that the unborn were not human beings. Shouldn't it be the judicial branch, then, where it's resolved? If that ruling were reversed, States could expand their fetal homicide laws to prohibit abortion. This is the Constitutional way to end abortion and protect human life.

J.R.R. Tolkien had profound insight into what happens to us when we use forbidden power to advance our cause. When Frodo naievely offers Gandalf the One Ring, the wizard replies “I would use this ring from a desire to do good, but through me it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.” Before we resort to a Constitutional amendment to protect the unborn, let's keep that in mind.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

The Dream of the Rood


Apart from reading the wonderfully harmonious Gospel accounts of the crucifixion, one of my favorite Easter traditions is reading the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Dream of the Rood." ("rood" means "crucifix" in Old English) Not only are these verses the first, full Christian poem in the English language, they comprise what may be one of our earliest of all English poems. Historians theorize that the poem may have been penned by Caedmon, whom the Venerable Bede tells us was a plain, uninspired herdsman until taught in the course of a dream to write hymns to God. The poem's enduring quality apparently caught on among the churchmen of Northumbria. Parts of it were inscribed on an equally masterful work of art, the Ruthwell Cross. Side-by-side with such engravings as Mary Magdalene washing Christ's feet with her hair, the healing of the man born blind, and the flight from Egypt, the poem -through the eyes of the cross upon which Jesus died- captures the paradoxical nature of Christ at once submitting to, and yet conquering, death.
.

1 Lo! I will tell of the best of dreams,
   what I dreamed in the middle of the night,
   after the speech-bearers were in bed.
   It seemed to me that I saw a very wondrous tree
5 lifted into the air, enveloped by light,
   the brightest of trees. That beacon was all
   covered with gold. Gems stood
   beautiful at the surface of the earth, there were five also
   up on the central joint of the cross. All those fair through eternal decree gazed
10 [on] the angel of the Lord. [It] was certainly not a wicked person’s gallows there,
   but holy spirits, men over the earth,
   and all this famous creation gazed on him.
  Wondrous was that tree of victory, and I stained with sins
  wounded sorely with defects, I saw the tree of glory,
15 honoured with garments, shining joyously,
  adorned with gold....

(Read the remainder of the poem here)

Monday, April 18, 2011

The Decline of Federalism, Part II

(If you missed the first part of this series, check it out here)

Over the next thirty years, the United States became embroiled in the slavery debate. The balance of free and slave states tenuously ebbed and flowed until the Supreme Court’s infamous Dred Scott decision. In Chief Justice Taney’s final verdict, slaves were branded as “property,” and Southerners’ defense of slavery as a matter of states’ rights was upheld. This pairing of two different issues in one unfortunate decision made state sovereignty, that vital half of federalism, appear specious, if not downright evil. Several years later, when the South resorted to the hotly debated right of secession, Abraham Lincoln built on Jackson’s precedent and called forth Federal troops to reduce the South to submission.

Even the most just wars end in diminished liberty, and the Civil War was no exception. The victorious Union overreacted to the problem the states had posed in their appeal to a supposed “right” to own slaves by stripping them of their rights altogether. The Fourteenth Amendment expanded the Bill of Rights to restrict states and placed liberties that had been sacrosanct to those states and their citizens perilously under Washington’s control. A wave of nationalism obliterated what loyalty remained to the state governments. Secession was branded with eternal infamy. “What was once a legitimate argument and rallying cry [came] to symbolize…the terrible injustice of a slave-based society.”

As Calhoun had observed thirty years earlier, “…it is not possible to distinguish, practically, between a government having all power, and one having the power to take what powers it pleases.” With the states robbed of any effectual means of checking Federal power, federalism was dealt a mortal wound. As if on cue, Washington’s powers began to explode. Woodrow Wilson’s administration first passed the 16th Amendment. This legalized the income tax and ensured that the Federal government had a vast financial advantage over the states. “By employing its ability to make grants to the states to…implement national programs, Congress has…[transformed] the states…into administrative arms of the national government.” The 17th Amendment followed, making senators directly elected and divorcing them from their position as the states’ agents. The states were now without a voice in the government they had created.

Most foreboding of all was the Supreme Court’s new interpretation of the Constitution as a living document. This had its genesis in the relativistic view that, in Wilson’s words, “[Government] falls, not under the theory of the universe, but under the theory of organic life. It is accountable to Darwin.”

A Supreme Court armed with the ability to redefine the Constitution undermines the very idea of a written constitution and imperils our rights. It has proved especially deleterious to what traces of federalism remain to slow things down. In the 1930s, the Court coupled this judicial activism with support for the New Deal’s engorgement of Federal power. In 1941’s U.S. v. Darby Lumber, the Court held that the Tenth Amendment’s reservation of power to the states and people was only a truism; in Wickard v. Fillburn, the wheat a farmer grew for his own chickens was declared to be under the jurisdiction of the Constitution’s Commerce Clause.

In retrospect, Jefferson’s and Madison’s warnings were remarkably farsighted. Without true, state-centered federalism, the Supreme Court has indeed become a mere rubber stamp for Washington’s agenda. The Court’s endorsement of the New Deal led to its endorsement of the welfare agenda of Lyndon Johnson’s “Great Society” and the surge of Federal power it required. Moreover, the Court’s expansive view of the Bill of Rights as a limit not just on Congress, but on the states, has led it to conjure de facto “rights.” 1965’s Griswold v. Connecticut saw justices discover an individual “right” to contraception that overrode Connecticut law. Americans were granted the “right” to murder an unborn child eight years later in Roe v. Wade, even though most states had outlawed abortion. One wonders what other “rights” might be contrived by our government next - the “right” to gay marriage?

In 2001, George W. Bush’s “No Child Left Behind” initiative seized more control of education from the states and gave it to a Washington bureaucracy. Federal education spending has tripled, but grades have continued to decline. During the BP oil spill, FEMA regulations prevented states’ timely response to the disaster. Arizona’s controversial immigration law was a desperate answer to Washington’s inability to enforce the powers it has assumed. After more than a century of living outside federalism’s constraints, our government is finally facing its overextension. Our fiscal crisis is fundamentally caused by the consolidation of a massive array of powers that were designed to be dispersed to the states and people in true federalist fashion.

The answer to the fiscal crisis, abortion, gay marriage, government corruption, an out of touch administration, and citizens’ apathy, is to revive federalism and restore to the states the decision-making power they were intended to wield. “Federalism was all about keeping government within reach of the individual. It was…about keeping government in its place…and maintenance of…democratic sentiment. As federalism has diminished as a constitutional…and political principle, much of what makes this nation what it has been is put at risk…. Our ability to restore the primacy of federalism in America may well shape what this nation is to become.”

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Straightening Crooked Judgments

By the early 6th century B.C., the people of Athens were embarking on a course free of monarchy. Without a king, a maelstrom of ambition ensued. Plutarch tells us of a struggle between the people of the hills who clamored for democracy, and those of the urban valleys who sought the protection of an oligarchy. The universally admired aristocrat Solon, full of poetic sparkle, seized this deadlock to make promises of "straightening crooked judgments" and equal justice for all. Shouts of acclamation from rich and poor alike made him dictator for a year. Solon quickly took control over the city's olive oil producers and banned the selling of cereal crops abroad so that they could instead feed Athenians. It didn't matter to Solon whether or not this meant bankrupting the cereal farmers. Solon's most radical reform was the abolition of the commoners' debts. Not only usurers, but all creditors, saw their money forcibly disappear as it was redistributed to the poor. Abuse was rife. The annals tell us of several of Solon's friends who anticipated this policy by taking out loans to buy swathes of land in the very hours before debts were to be eradicated.

Several centuries later we can see Rome's reformers treading the same proverbial road to hell paved with good intentions. As the Republican armies haphazardly acquired lands abroad, and as the Equestrians and Populares sought more influence in government, the Senate became divided. A starry-eyed reformer named Tiberius Gracchus arose from among the governing class. Tiberius had traveled throughout the colonies and had come to identify the financial plight of farmers as Rome's greatest problem. Encouraged by two Greek scholars, Tiberius presented a proposal to seize the lands of Rome's noble families and spread them to the lower classes. The tribune Octavius became the voice of the aristocrats' furor at this blatantly unjust scheme. But democracy, then as now, knew no law. Tiberius simply held an unconstitutional election where the Roman mobs deposed Octavius. After even this, the measure was not to pass. Tiberius was killed by rioting senators; his brother Gaius followed him when he attempted to carry out the very same plan. Robbing the rich to give to the poor was something that Romans were not yet anesthetized to.

So much for the celebrated ancient reformers. To find an example of reform that was fair to all, regardless of the money they had or didn't have, it's necessary to look beyond the West. We now turn to the story of the exiles' return to Israel. Although the Israelites astonished their neighbors by reconstructing Jerusalem's walls, problems still abounded. The fields that had lain un-tilled for so long could not immediately bear a harvest. This plunged farmers into debt as they enslaved their children in order to get grain. The governor, Nehemiah, recognized the property of all men as sacrosanct. Instead of using his power to force the redistribution of weath, he relied on the Israelites' fear of the Lord to prompt their voluntarism. Nehemiah exhorted the noblemen to restore the fields, vineyards, sons and daughters that had been taken from the poor, lest they all become an object of scorn amongst their neighbors. As one, the nobility disavowed usury and restored what they had taken. Unlike Solon's bankrupting of Athens' creditors, or Tiberius Gracchus' socialistic seizure of private property, this manner of reform didn't entail taking at sword point from those who had in order to give to those who had not. It required a people who feared the Lord, and an understanding that only by encouraging man's free will, his voluntary effort, can good ever be done. Socialism knows no higher law than the here and now, and so it compels what is right. The fact that it creates poverty by grinding down the rich reminds one of Proverbs 12:10: "Even the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel."

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The Decline of Federalism, Part I

(Read part II here)

When conservatives look to Washington to enact every part of their agenda, they are unwittingly kicking the supports -all fifty of them- out from under conservatism itself. How far we have come from our Founders’ vision of a republic where “The powers delegated…to the federal government are few and defined. Those which are to remain in the State governments are numerous and indefinite." If the states are closest to the people, it is only in their legislatures that most issues can be properly and effectively settled. "When all government, domestic and foreign, in little as in great things, shall be drawn to Washington as the center of all power,” Jefferson warned, “it will render powerless the checks provided of one government on another, and will become as…oppressive as the government from which we separated." The most pressing public policy issue of our day is the decline of “federalism,” that is, the dispersal of power between states and the nation. Indeed, our “Federal” government’s increasing lack of federalism is at the heart of every other struggle our nation faces today.

To the Founders, the states were indispensable bastions of freedom. The people identified themselves as Virginians or New Yorkers, not Americans. They were represented in their state capitals by men whom they knew, and who knew their concerns, often personally. The states also maintained a healthy competition with each other in their rich diversity of tradition and law. “For these reasons, the states seemed the more appropriate locus for government authority. Only by maintaining the sovereignty of the states could republican government flourish.” To that end, but also to impel cooperation among the states, the Constitution created a Federal government that could act decisively in its own sphere of power, but one that would “owe its existence more or less to the favor of the State governments….” This dependency was another piece in the elaborate machinery of checks and balances that the Founders planted in our nation at its inception, ensuring that Washington’s reach would remain limited.

Almost immediately after the ratification of the Constitution, this novel idea of a “federal” government of “dual sovereignties” -a national government with a few defined powers, the others being retained by the states or people- aroused fierce controversy. James Madison had made it quite clear in Federalist #39 that “The proposed Constitution…is…neither a national nor a [confederal] Constitution, but a composition of both….” but finding this middle ground of “federalism” proved difficult for the young nation. As early as 1798, when the dubiously constitutional Alien and Sedition Acts were passed, parties emerged that erroneously claimed that the government was one or the other. The disagreement revolved around whether an act of Congress that was unconstitutional was binding on the states. The implications were profound.

In response to the Alien and Sedition Acts, men like Jefferson and Madison argued that, had the United States been founded as a national government whose decisions were binding on the states even if unconstitutional, then “…that would have made its discretion, and not the Constitution, the measure of its powers….” In effect, Congress could acquire new powers without fear if it was accountable only to its own Supreme Court, and not the states. To that end, it was argued, each state reserved “an equal right to judge for itself, as well of infractions as of the…measure of redress” –i.e. the right to “nullify,” or refuse to enforce, an unconstitutional Federal act.

Although Daniel Webster had used this theory of nullification to oppose the draft, and the Hartford Convention had drawn from it to encourage New England’s secession, no one put it into practice until 1828. A Federal tariff passed that year was refused enforcement by South Carolina on grounds of unconstitutionality. Taking up Jefferson’s mantle, Vice President John C. Calhoun defended this act of nullification, contending that “The Government is one of specific powers, and it can only exercise those powers expressly granted…all others being reserved to the States….” Nullification was seemingly discredited when President Jackson threatened to send troops into South Carolina, and the state backed down. The more vital issue of state sovereignty became guilty by association. It now appeared to be simple Southern feather-ruffling. This did not bode well for federalism, hinging as it did on the concept of states’ independence in their own sphere. If the Federal government could intrude into that sphere to force acceptance of its will, did the states retain any freedom in reality? 


TO BE CONTINUED

Thursday, March 31, 2011

America and the Freedom to Fail

Our world today has made greater strides in fighting poverty than at any time in its history. Even counting recent struggles and upheavals across the globe, peace and order have reigned like they rarely have before. Then there's the seemingly daily buzz of one frontier of science after another being crossed, or this or that record being broken. Literacy is at rates never fathomed before, college education is almost universal, and standards of living continue to rise. In the midst of so much success, why are we afraid as never before at the thought of failure?

Author Michael Goodwin points out in his video that this fear is inherent in our idea of “social promotion,” that is, giving students who haven't learned their subject a passing grade. As a senior pursuing a bachelor's degree in History, I have seen this philosophy spread to our universities as well. Curved scores are only the most obvious symptom of a teaching rubrik that harms the very students it professes to help. Academic success cannot be achieved by robbing our children of recognition when they succeed, and of the help they need when they don't.

The economist Milton Friedman once observed that “If you are not free to sin, then neither are you free to be virtuous.” How much freedom do we really have when we're only allowed to succeed? Yet this philosophy so pervasive in our school system has been adopted by our government. Rather than letting corporations fail when they can't turn a profit, Congress has voted to rescue them. This sends them the same message that schools send our children: ethical, honest, and diligent behavior doesn't matter. You can do just as well with less work, less honesty and less accountability.

We are created to learn by failure; it's at the very core of what's made us great as a nation. George Washington's celebrated victories at Trenton and Monmouth came only after crushing defeats had taught him what tactics didn't work. Our Founding Fathers never would have proposed the Constitution if they hadn't faced the shortcomings of their Articles of Confederation. The same is true of the new and uniquely American ideas of "capitalism” and the "self-made man.” Would they have been possible in a world like today's when they fundamentally depend on rewarding only the successful? If he had lived in an era of "social promotion,” would Thomas Edison have been inspired to try his lightbulb the 10,000th time?