The Underground Thomist
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Why Drag God into Natural Law?Monday, 06-22-2015
Question: “If the content of natural law is inherent in man’s nature, and the means of knowing it is inherent man’s natural power of reasoning, then why is God so fundamental to natural law theory?” Reply: I’m cheating a little, because the second part of my answer recycles a post from last year, and both parts are cadged from one of my books. But if you’d read everything I’ve ever written, you wouldn’t have asked, would you? Let’s begin by setting up the background to your question. The central claim of the classical natural law tradition can be expressed in just a few sentences. Law may be defined as an ordinance of reason, for the common good, made by legitimate public authority, and promulgated. Nature may be conceived as an ensemble of things with particular natures, and a thing’s nature may be thought of as the design imparted to it by the Creator -- as a purpose impressed upon it by the divine art, so that it is directed to a determinate end. The claim is that in exactly these senses, natural law is both (1) true law and (2) truly expressive of nature. Natural law is law because it has all that all true law has. It not an arbitrary whim, but something reasonable; it serves not some special interest, but the universal good; its author has care of the universe, for He created and governs it; and it is not a secret rule, for He has so arranged this Creation that the basics of right and wrong are known to every human being. Natural law is natural because it is built into our deep structure, into the constitution of the human person. It is built into the inclinations of the moral intellect, for we spontaneously recognize such things as the right of being grateful for good done to us, the wrong of deliberately taking innocent human life, and the good of knowing the truth. It is built into the rest of our inclinations, for example the way men and women complete and balance each other, and how they are drawn to each other as partners in turning the great wheel of posterity. Finally it is sewn into the fabric of experience, for lives that go with the grain of the created universe tend to prosper, while lives that go against it suffer loss, usually even by their own reckoning of “loss.” But this opens a larger question. Why not just say “Follow the natural law because it is naturally good for you,” and leave it at that? Why drag God into the picture? One answer is that we don’t drag Him into the picture; He is in it already. There wouldn’t be a nature without God; there wouldn’t be natural goods without God; there wouldn’t be anything without God. The natural law depends on God in the same way that everything depends on God. That answer is good so far as it goes, but it is incomplete. It shows how natural law depends ontologically upon God, but it doesn’t show how it depends practically upon God. Someone might suggest that for practical purposes, God can be ignored. Even conceding that He made our nature, still, now that we have been made, we should seek what is naturally good for us, just because it is naturally good. Yes, He commands it, the Objector says, but that is not the reason we obey. Yet this suggestion too is incomplete. It supposes that God is one thing, and good another. What if God is our good? What if, in some sense, friendship with Him is our greatest good? That is exactly what the natural law tradition proposes. But in that case, even if we do pursue the good “because it is good,” it isn’t redundant that He commands it. Now "friendship with God" might mean either natural friendship with God, which lies in the concordance of wills, or supernatural friendship with God, which lies in union. Supernatural friendship with God lies beyond anything we can reach by human power alone. But even natural friendship with God would be a colossal good, if only it could be achieved. Consider just the good and beauty of mortal friendship. We enjoy it, yes. But we also appreciate it, and this fact itself is a good; it reflects and thereby doubles the original enjoyment. Did I say doubles? Say rather triples, quadruples, quintuples, as the enjoyment of friendship reverberates in the strings of memory, gratitude, and delight. If we never remember of our friends, have no gratitude for them, and are never moved to joy just because they are, we can scarcely be said to have experienced friendship at all. We are diminished, impoverished, mutilated; something is wrong with us. But if all that is true even in the case of goods like mortal friendship, then isn’t it still more true in the case of friendship with God? If we cannot take joy in remembering Him, being grateful to Him, and delighting in the thought of Him, aren’t we missing the very note on which the chord of good is built? We are missing it, and this fact alters and deepens the motive for obeying the natural law. True, the natural law directs us to nothing but our good. The Objector responds, “Then we should have done it anyway, even apart from God’s command.” But is it possible that part of what makes it good for us lies in doing it just because He commands it? What lover has not known the delight of doing something, just because the beloved asked? What child has not begged Daddy to give him a job to do, just so he could do it for Daddy? What trusted vassal did not plead of a truly noble lord, “Command me!” just in order to prove himself in loyal valor? If in such ways, even the commands of mere men can be gifts and boons, then why not still more the commands of God? Tomorrow: The Same as to Knowledge,Part 3 of 14
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Anything GoesSaturday, 06-20-2015
A silly idea is making the rounds that so-called gay marriage should be embraced by conservatives because “marriage is a conservative principle.” By this reasoning, conservatives should embrace incestuous “marriages,” coerced “marriages,” and “marriages” with children too. Of course marriage is a conservative principle. Nothing is more fundamental to the well-being of children and to the flourishing of the family than the bond between their father and mother. Nothing else can join those now living with all the generations dead and not yet born in an unending covenant of love and kinship. Marriage is the name of the procreative partnership that does these things. Just because it does them, law protects it. The problem is that the other so-called kinds of marriages are not marriages. They aren’t because they don’t do those things. One might as well define cats as another kind of dogs, nighttime as another kind of day, or rain as another kind of sunlight. If anything goes, if marriage is in the eye of the beholder, then why have marriage laws at all? There is nothing for them to be about; there is nothing to protect. We won't have redefined marriage. We will have abolished it. Tomorrow: Why Drag God into Natural Law?
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“The Same as to Knowledge,” Part 2 of 14Thursday, 06-18-2015
Have I Misunderstood?Before considering whether what St. Thomas says about moral knowledge is true, let’s make sure I haven’t misunderstood him. Someone might suggest that when he says that the general principles of the natural law are the same “for all” as to knowledge – meaning that everyone knows them -- he really means that almost everyone knows them. As C.S. Lewis suggested, those thinkers who said that everyone knew the natural law “did not mean, of course, that you might not find an odd individual here and there who did not know it, just as you find a few people who are color-blind or have no ear for a tune. But taking the race as a whole, they thought that the human idea of decent behavior was obvious to everyone.”[1] No doubt some natural law thinkers did think this way about the race as a whole. But St. Thomas didn’t. In the following passage he clearly distinguishes between principles that are the same for all in every case, and principles that are the same for all with rare exceptions: Consequently we must say that the natural law, as to general principles, is the same for all, both as to rectitude and as to knowledge. But as to certain matters of detail, which are conclusions, as it were, of those general principles, it is the same for all in the majority of cases, both as to rectitude and as to knowledge; and yet in some few cases it may fail, both as to rectitude, by reason of certain obstacles (just as natures subject to generation and corruption fail in some few cases on account of some obstacle), and as to knowledge, since in some the reason is perverted by passion, or evil habit, or an evil disposition of nature.[2] So although St. Thomas agreed that you might find an odd individual here and there who does not know one of the detailed precepts of the natural law, he really did believe that everyone knows the general principles of the natural law. Someone might also propose that when St. Thomas says the general principles of the natural law are the same for all as to knowledge, he is speaking only of the first, indemonstrable principle of practical reason. In its ontological form, this may be expressed “good is that which all things seek after.” In its preceptive form, it may be expressed “good is to be done and pursued, and evil is to be avoided.” So the only thing that is the same for all as to knowledge – the only thing that each of us really knows – is that he ought, in fact, to pursue those things which are such as to draw his pursuit, and avoid those things which are such as to repel it. The knowledge of what these things are is not the same for all as to knowledge, so I am entirely mistaken in thinking that it includes such details as “Honor thy father and thy mother,” “Thou shalt not kill,” and “Thou shalt not steal.” The difficulty with this interpretation is that St. Thomas explicitly contradicts it. Hold that thought until Part 3.Notes1. C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, rev. ed. (New York: HarperCollins, 1952, 1982), p. 5.2. Summa Theologiae I-II, Q. 94, Art. 4. I have omitted the final clause from this quotation, but only in order to return to it later.Link to Part 3 of 14
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Undermen and OvermenMonday, 06-15-2015
Monday – Student letter day! Question: Secular humanists deny God, holding that nothing is greater than human beings. However, do they think that some humans are greater than others? Reply: Some do. A good example is the influential jurist Oliver Wendell Holmes, founder of the school of thought called legal realism (which would more properly be called legal anti-realism, because it denies the reality of moral law). Holmes did not believe there was anything above human beings, but he didn’t think there was anything special about them either. He wrote, “I see no reason for attributing to a man a significance different in kind from that which belongs to a baboon or to a grain of sand.” Having thrown moral and spiritual values out the window, he had nothing left to believe in but lethal force: “The world has produced the rattlesnake as well as me; but I kill it if I get a chance, as also mosquitoes, cockroaches, murderers, and flies. My only judgment is that they are incongruous with the world I want, the kind of world we all try to make according to our power.” The same rule of conquest applied in his view to the relations of strong humans with weak ones: “All my life I have sneered at the natural rights of man.” “I believe that force, mitigated so far as may be by good manners, is the ultima ratio.” “Every society rests on the death of men.” What he called “my starting point for an ideal of the law” was “taking in hand life and trying to build a race.” In practical terms, this mean killing everyone “below standard”: “I can imagine a future in which science … shall have gained such catholic [universal] acceptance that it shall take control of life, and condemn at once with instant execution what now is left for nature to destroy.” Bear in mind that secular humanism is not a single ideology but a family of ideologies. Although certain kinds of secular humanists do claim to recognize the dignity of the human person, in practice they find it difficult to keep from being sucked into the black hole of HHHolmesian brutality. Consider for instance the widely-circulated “humanist manifestos.” Although the signatories of Manifesto II devote an entire section to ethics, they insist that ethics is “situational.” This means there are no exceptionless rules; so given the right situation, anything might be permitted. In the same oxymoronic spirit, they declare that “the preciousness and dignity of the individual person is a central humanist value” and affirm belief in “the principle of moral equality,” but at the same time insists on the right to abortion. So all humans are equal, but some are more equal than others. The quotations from Oliver Wendell Holmes are taken from Albert W. Alschuler, “A Century of Skepticism,” in McConnell, Cochran, and Carmella, eds., Christian Perspectives on Legal Thought (Yale, 2001). A condensed version of the chapter is available here. Humanist Manifesto II can be found here. Next time: The Same as to Knowledge, Part 2 of 14.
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Felons’ Tears, RevisitedSaturday, 06-13-2015
Last month I wrote about my conversation with a federal judge who told about the many defendants in his court who weep when they hear the pre-sentence report. Subsequently I asked him for details, and here is his reply. “Yes, I was telling you about the experience I've had on many occasions of sentencing an adult male for a crime and watching him cry over what a mess he's made of his life. Often he has been in the county jail awaiting sentencing while a pre-sentence report is being prepared. As a result, he typically lacks access to drugs and alcohol and has a forced period of sobriety. Sometimes he will tell me at his sentencing that this is the longest time he's been sober in years. “The pre-sentence reports are very thorough and include sections on the individual's family of origin, education, employment, his own children and relationships, health (including mental health and history of substance abuse), finances, a detailed account of the offense he is being sentenced for, and his prior criminal history. I've described it as a version of the old TV show ‘this is your life.’ The offender goes over the report with his attorney before sentencing and is forced to confront what he's done to others and what its impact has been not only on them but on his own loved ones, i.e., wife (or more often ‘fiancée’), children (often multiple, each with a different mother), and his own parents. “The result can be sincere remorse and resolve to change, often accompanied by a discovery of, or return to, Christianity. Unfortunately, once the sentence is completed, sobriety is no longer forced but is a choice, and given the failure to form any habits of discipline and self-restraint, as well as the environment that the offender returns to, the resolve is often short-lived until age, illness or death overcomes the propensity to abuse himself and others. “I think I also mentioned that when I read the social history, which often begins with a single mother (sometimes a child herself, alcoholic, drug addicted or all three), no father or, worse, an abusive, neglectful or criminal father (or again all three), I can't help wondering what I would be like if I had so little in life. “On many occasions, I've thought of the old saying ‘don't remove a fence unless you know why it was put up.’ As a society, we have removed many fences over the past fifty years because we thought they were relics of an oppressive past that unreasonably restricted human freedom. Anyone who works in the courts should be able to recognize the empirical evidence that shows why those fences were put up. Instead of promoting human freedom, removal of the fences has robbed many, especially the poor and uneducated, of the freedom to become what human beings are capable of being. “Unfortunately, too many people have a vested interest in the fences remaining down, and no one knows how to put them back up, even if we wanted to.” Next time: Undermen and Overmen
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“The Same as to Knowledge,” Part 1 of 14Thursday, 06-11-2015
For some years I have been building a case about moral knowledge, moral denial, and the revenge of conscience. In this new series, I will simply and concisely put all the pieces of the argument in one place. It will run only on Thursdays, with posts on other topics several other times a week. This is all copyrighted, of course. The Same for AllIn the Summa Theologiae, First Part of the Second Part, Question 94, Article 4, St. Thomas Aquinas – asking whether the natural moral law is the same for all men – makes the very strong claim that “the natural law, as to general principles, is the same for all, both as to rectitude and as to knowledge.” Let’s unpack this statement to see why it is so astonishing. To say that the general principles of the natural law are the same “as to rectitude” means that they are right for everyone. For example, just as it would be wrong for me to murder, so it would be wrong for you to murder. This claim is already quite strong, and a good many people in our time consider it pretty dubious. We hear every day that “what’s right for you may not be right for me,” and that this is why we must not “judge” anyone else’s acts by our own standards. But St. Thomas makes this already-strong claim stronger still. For to say that the general principles are the same for all “as to knowledge” means that everyone knows them. For example, not only is it the case that theft is wrong for everyone, but everyone knows that theft is wrong, even thieves. I take this to mean not only that everyone knows that theft is wrong for him, but that everyone knows that theft is wrong for everyone. Of course we are not speaking of persons incapable of reason; “all men” means everyone with an undamaged adult mind. Nor are we speaking of the remote, detailed implications of the general principles; I may understand the wrong of theft in general, yet be confused about whether it would always be theft to refuse to return property entrusted to me at the time it is demanded. Notice, too, that we are speaking of knowledge of the natural law itself, not the knowledge of the theory of natural law. For example, people in general may not know that “Do not steal” is a natural law; they may not even know that there is such a thing as natural law. They may, in fact, steal. Nevertheless, they know that they ought not steal. This is the claim. If St. Thomas is correct, then no matter which kind of denier we are speaking of – whether the universal denier, who denies that there are any true moral universals, or the particular denier, who denies particular true moral universals such as the wrong of adultery or murder – the denier knows better. Though he may give seemingly rational accounts of his objections, he is unreasonably resistant to solutions, because the obstacles that prevent him from acknowledging true moral universals lie less in the realm of the intellect than in the realm of the will. He may even desire to concoct intellectual obstacles, because they give him a pretext for refusing to admit to himself that he knows what he does, in some sense, know. And if this in turn is true, then we have an enormous problem. It implies that a good portion of contemporary ethical and meta-ethical debate is not carried on in good faith. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Here I am worrying about the implications of the proposition that persons who deny true moral universals know better, when I have not even presented any reasons to think that they do, in fact, know better. Some people would say that I am even further ahead of myself than that, because I have not established that St. Thomas really means what I say he means when he states that the general principles of the natural law are the same for all as to knowledge. Here then is what I propose. First I will reply to possible arguments against my interpretation of St. Thomas’s claim; then I will present objections to his view and offer replies; then a more general argument for thinking that he is right; then why it is so important that he is right. Finally I will return to the question of what to do about all of this. Link to Part 2 of 14
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Moral Problems, Technological SolutionsWednesday, 06-10-2015
Why was former President George W. Bush so resolute in assembling a coalition and a massive accumulation of force to achieve regime change during the Second Iraq War – but so irresolute (though not so irresolute as his successor) in stabilizing the country afterward? To be sure, he radically underestimated the difficulty of the latter task. He expected the coalition troops to be greeted as liberators, which for a short time they were. But this is not a complete explanation. He realized that the Americans and their allies might not have the moral nerve to stay the course in a protracted conflict. But through the new military doctrine of “shock and awe,” heseems to have believed we would get in and out so quickly, with such overwhelming dominance, that there would be no course for us to stay. As to the Iraqis, he expected our manner of waging war to impress them so thoroughly that even after the shock had dissipated, the awe would persist, transforming their civil society. In short, he was attempting to apply a technological solution to a pair of moral problems – on our side, weakness of will, and on the Iraqi side, unreadiness for self-government. And that is why he failed. Tomorrow: The Same as to Knowledge, Part 1
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