Bybee’s “Good Faith,” Ctd.

A reader writes:

From an attorney's perspective, your post was right on the money. I read the memos, and my immediate reaction was: "if I had submitted this kind of analysis in law school to my first-year legal research and writing professor, I would have been given a failing grade." I couldn't believe how thin the analysis was, especially given the significance of the issues involved and the credentials of the attorneys who would have researched and drafted the memos. There were sparse citations to authority and there was little, if any, credit given to potential counterarguments or other pitfalls to the proposed conclusion. Attorneys have an obligation to point out such issues in memoranda of this type.

On a daily basis, junior litigators in big firms churn out memoranda on far more mundane issues than the torture question, which memos are far more thoroughly researched and well thought out. Also, in my current line of work, if I drafted a memo like this but failed to caution my boss about the Texas case you mentioned, I would get bawled out big time if it came back to bite him later. These guys are supposed to be among the best legal minds in the country. Besides bad faith, I don't see any potential explanation for such shoddy work quality.

Me neither. One of the great benefits of actually reading the memos is that the transparent bad faith in which they were crafted under orders from above is unmistakable. The fundamental point is that Cheney decided that torture would be his central weapon in fighting Jihadist terrorism from September 2001 onward. Why else pick Gitmo? Why else remove Geneva protections from the get-go? Why else study torture techniques immediately?

And, being a very smart operator, Cheney also knew that all this was illegal.

He does not believe that the president of the US is subject to the rule of law in conducting military operations but was canny enough to know he needed a legal paper trail to cover his tracks and provide transparently shallow rationales for war crimes. He got what he wanted from a pliant legal bureaucracy already indoctrinated in the notion that the executive can never be checked in wartime.

Once you see the entire period and all its decisions as part of a concerted, planned attempt to violate the Geneva Conventions, it all makes sense. No other rationale works. The torture was not desperately authorized when all else failed. It was planned meticulously in advance.

Faith Before Reason

Mark Vernon wrestles with David Hume:

Theologians, and their critics, get into the reasons 'afterwards', as it were, and also to help 'the faithful' with the important process of discernment: 'faith seeking understanding' in Anselm's famous formula. So there is an important, even vital, dialogue to be had between faith and reason. The arguments are worth having because of the way they shape faith, or the lack of it. But faith itself is prior to reason; it is the existence of faith that gets the debate about belief going in the first place.

Clinging, Ctd.

A reader writes:

I also was raised as a Catholic. I was married in the Catholic church to a Catholic-raised woman, and we baptized all of our kids in the Church. Still, over the years, as I came more knowledgeable about the origins of our universe, I found myself struggling more and more as to the existence of God, let alone the faith of Jesus as His son.  I desperately want to believe as my wife and mother do.  I believe in, and love, Jesus’ teachings of love and tolerance, and find comfort in the traditions of the sacraments that have been practiced through the generations.  This is in large part why I decided, along with my wife, to send my kids to Catholic school….because, at the end of the day, I want my kids to have that same foundation of love and tolerance that Jesus taught.

    However, my knowledge of the Church’s ancient and modern history has left me deeply disillusioned with the Church, and made me question my faith in God and Jesus even more.  Its rituals have become to look more and more silly to me as its credibility for me waned with its handling of gays, marriage, women and pedophiles.         

Furthermore, I’m a registered Republican who has seen the idealism of my youth extinguished by politicians. I never did associate myself with the far-right members of the party who seemed more concerned about the culture wars. I became a Republican because I felt that the role of the government was to protect us, and society was much better served by it staying out of the way. However, now, all I see are politicians who take stands not because that’s the way they feel, but because that’s what they feel will get them re-elected.  My youthful idealism has transformed into aged pessimism. It was why I could not come to vote for Obama. I was, and remain, fearful of the oftentimes (from my viewpoint) blind loyalty that he enjoys from the media and the public (and my wife).  To me, he’s still a politician. 

Once again, as with my Catholic faith, I desperately want to have that same feeling of hope and trust in my government as my wife does, and struggle with this everyday.          Now, reading all that, you may think that I’m this extremely bitter, sad and angry individual.  But, surprisingly, all of these struggles have actually made me a happier person.  Why?  Because I’ve recognized the "little" things in life that make me happy (laying in bed with my wife; playing and talking with my boys; watching the Red Sox), and more fully appreciate these little things that make me happy because I know that they are a peaceful time-out from the big issues of life.

Why Faith Needs Doubt

JW Wall responds to David Plotz’s book:

Those Biblical figures called heroes, and pillars, and faithful, and righteous: they doubted. They struggled. Faith did not preclude that; those titles that they earned — could they have earned them without doubting? Would Abraham have been Abraham had he not negotiated for Sodom and Gomorrah? Moses, lost in the desert, doubted and struck the rock in his own name when bringing forth water.

There is an argument to be made that the struggle with doubt is among the most important aspects of faith… We oughtn’t confuse faith with mere belief — the one is a component, an aspect of the other, though integral to it.

John Schwenkler adds his own two cents:

One reason why this sort of recognition is so important is that without it, the state of doubt can seem to be such a lonely – and, hence, sinful and shameful and unutterable – state to be in; with this recognition in place, however, doubt can be the sort of thing that we can bear and live through and – to use JL’s helpful phrase – struggle with together. To be clear: the point here is not that doubt is something to be celebrated or even simply taken for granted; the struggle is necessary, lest a doubting faith should give way to an outright unbelief. But the recognition that Moses and Abraham – and, for that matter, Mother Teresa and Pope Benedict and so on – are sharers in this struggle can, while perhaps not making the burden any lighter in itself, still make it that much easier to open oneself to the support of those others who, though faithful, are themselves quietly familiar with what the struggle with doubt entails.

How Faith Engenders Doubt

Humancandlesset

Richard Grant, a British post-doc, ponders:

The beauty of faith is that it’s not an intellectual exercise. Anyone can join in, at whatever level they like. It doesn’t require you to be clever—or rich, or middle-class, or college-educated. But it doesn’t have to stop there—faith can expand according to your ability. Indeed, as someone’s faith grows they will find that it permeates more and more of their life and outlook. In fact, they will probably find themselves becoming a sceptic.

A sceptic, despite what the internets tell you, isn’t necessarily an unbeliever. A sceptic is one who questions, one who doesn’t take anything on faith (and I must piss off my friends mightily because it’s naturally difficult for me to take what anyone says without wanting to verify it myself). Someone who, in fact, might make a reasonable scientist. Now, you might say that my definition negates the possibility of a sceptic having faith: but that would be because you misunderstand the nature of ‘faith’.

(Photo: from an installation "Human Candles" by Walter Martin and Paloma Muñoz, explained here.)

High Brow And Middle Brow Faith, Ctd.

Stainedglassnicholaskammafpgetty

Manzi responds to Jerry Coyne. Like everything Manzi writes, it’s worth reading the entire post. With respect to the specific point Coyne made about real faith being middle-brow and fundamentalist:

By about the year 400, Augustine described a view of Creation in which “seeds of potentiality” were established by God, which then unfolded through time in an incomprehensibly complicated set of processes. By the 13th century, Aquinas — working with the thought of Aristotle and Augustine — identified God with ultimate causes, while accepting naturalistic interpretations of secondary causes. Today, the formal position of the Catholic church, incorporating this long train of thought, is that there is no conflict between evolution through natural selection and Catholic theology. So, in this example, we’re describing an orientation supported by those esoteric theologians Augustine and Aquinas, and promulgated today by that so-liberal-he’s-practically-an-atheist Pope Benedict in that weirdo minority Roman Catholic sect. You know, “unrecognizable as religion to most Americans.”

There is in Catholicism a strain of anti-fundamentalism that has been sadly obscured by the current pontiff’s attempt to ratchet back Vatican II. When theoconservatism inevitably retreats in the face of evolving human thought and enduring human faith, the full implications of Darwin for Christianity will emerge. In my view, both will be strengthened. Christianity can and will survive by embracing the truths of science for what they are. Faith and Truth cannot definitionally compete. What we are going through is an evolutionary moment of theological transformation. As it happens, we see more dust than light. In the future, more light.

(Photo: Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty.)

God And Doctors

by Patrick Appel
Saletan asks: "Should parents go to jail for believing so devoutly in faith healing that they don’t seek lifesaving medical treatment for their children?" His answer:

…the more important thing to communicate to parents is that this is bad religion. Science is a way of grappling with what we can know empirically. Religion is a way of grappling with what we can’t. Each of these disciplines must recognize its limits and defer, beyond that, to its counterpart. Properly understood, there’s nothing unscientific about religion, and there’s nothing irreligious about science.

I’m not saying the distinction is perfectly clean. It isn’t. Sometimes religion and science have to work together. But it’s crucial to ask which kind of question you’re facing. Healing is a physical phenomenon. Can faith influence it? Yes. Look at the latest study on acupuncture: It sometimes works, apparently because patients believe in it. But what happens when people pray for your recovery without you knowing about it? Answer: Nothing. Belief, not God, is the medically salient factor.

That’s how science, at its best, works with religion. It doesn’t claim to disprove God’s existence. It can’t. It addresses only empirically testable ideas, including faith healing. And it reports whatever its methods find. Instead of laughing at acupuncture, it looks at the evidence, admits that acupuncture sometimes works, and tries to figure out why.

Religion, at its best, needs the same humility.

Of Modern Faith

Peter Suderman hawls out a tired riff on faith in politics:

…it’s always struck as strange when people argue that Christians have every right to their beliefs, and that those beliefs ought to be firmly respected — but that in politics, those beliefs ought to be kept to oneself. For many Christians, it’s integral to their faith that every part of their life, including their work, be comported in accordance with their religious beliefs. The idea that one ought to turn off or conveniently ignore his or her faith when participating in public life is anathema to many devout believers, and when proponents of a purely secular politics suggest that believers should be able to do that without compromising their faith, they misunderstand the entire nature of religious belief. What the most ardent secularists end up saying is, "I’ll respect your beliefs — provided you never act upon them around me."

Er, no. You can act upon them all you want. It is when you require others to be governed by laws deduced entirely from your own religious convictions that problems emerge.

What modernity requires is not that you cease living according to your faith, but that you accept that others may differ and that therefore politics requires a form of discourse that is reasonable and accessible to believer and non-believer alike. This religious restraint in politics is critical to the maintenance of liberal democracy, and that is why Christianism is so hostile to modernity, though nowhere near as threatening as Islamism.

Allowing others to be other is what we call modernity. In my view, it is worth defending. And that’s why I think of myself as a conservative rather than as a reactionary. I like the pluralism of modernity; it doesn’t threaten me or my faith. And if one’s faith is dependent on being reinforced in every aspect of other people’s lives, then it is a rather insecure faith, don’t you think?

Modernity, Faith, And Marriage

Abbeydavidmcnewgetty

Reading this piece by Rod Dreher is saddening to me. What separates Rod from many others on the right is his passionate sincerity. Even when he goes overboard, it’s all real. He’s not a cynic; and he grapples in ways many others on the social right do not with the fact of modernity, which makes the dream of cultural conservatives just that … a dream. And not of the future, but of the past. Rod longs, as many do, for a return to the days when civil marriage brought with it a whole bundle of collectively-shared, unchallenged, teleological, and largely Judeo-Christian, attributes. Civil marriage once reflected a great deal of cultural and religious assumptions: that women’s role was in the household, deferring to men; that marriage was about procreation, which could not be contracepted; that marriage was always and everywhere for life; that marriage was a central way of celebrating the primacy of male heterosexuality, in which women were deferent, non-heterosexuals rendered invisible and unmentionable, and thus the vexing questions of sexual identity and orientation banished to the catch-all category of sin and otherness, rather than universal human nature. To tell Rod something he already knows: Modernity has ended that dream. Permanently. Rod has read his Alasdair Macintyre. And – despairing (rightly) at the Catholic hierarchy’s inability even to have a reasoned conversation about what is going on and at its own sexual and psychological dysfunction and sin – Rod has joined the Orthodox church, perhaps the deepest as well as oldest of all Christian communities. I respect all that – profoundly. My own wrestling with the conflicts between Thomist teleology and modernity came in my 20s, when Oakeshott and Montaigne threaded the needle and when the fact of my own sexual orientation forced me to a reckoning others can perhaps escape. (The result: "Virtually Normal.") My faith has been more private since and more informed by mystery, reticence and doubt. And watching fundamentalist Christianity and Benedict-style Catholicism react to the last couple of decades has only confirmed for me what I suspected in my early adulthood: that their solutions to the modern problem are not solutions at all. They are wild lunges at something they hate almost as much as they misunderstand. If conservatism is to recover as a force in the modern world, the theocons and Christianists have to understand that their concept of a unified polis with a telos guiding all of us to a theologically-understood social good is a non-starter. Modernity has smashed it into a million little pieces. Women will never return in their consciousness to the child-bearing subservience of the not-so-distant past. Gay people will never again internalize a sense of their own "objective disorder" to acquiesce to a civil regime where they are willingly second-class citizens. Straight men and women are never again going to avoid divorce to the degree our parents did. Nor are they going to have kids because contraception is illicit. The only way to force all these genies back into the bottle would require the kind of oppressive police state Rod would not want to live under.

But how do those who are ready to live in this modern world coexist with those who still believe that it is not only misguided but evil? And, of course, vice-versa? There is only one way.

That way is to agree that our civil order will mean less; that it will be a weaker set of more procedural agreements that try to avoid as much as possible deep statements about human nature. And that has a clear import for our current moment. The reason the marriage debate is so intense is because neither side seems able to accept that the word "marriage" requires a certain looseness of meaning if it is to remain as a universal, civil institution. This is not that new. Catholics, for example, accept the word marriage to describe civil marriages that are second marriages, even though their own faith teaches them that those marriages don’t actually exist as such. But most Catholics are able to set theological beliefs to one side and accept a theological untruth as a civil fact. After all, a core, undebatable Catholic doctrine is that marriage is for life. Divorce is not the end of that marriage in the eyes of God. And yet Catholics can tolerate fellow citizens who are not Catholic calling their non-marriages marriages – because Catholics have already accepted a civil-religious distinction. They can wear both hats in the public square.

Rod believes that accepting my civil marriage as equal to his somehow erases the meaning of his own union. But it doesn’t. He is free as a person of faith to regard my civil marriage as substantively void and his as substantively meaningful; he is simply required as a member of this disenchanted polis to accept my civil marriage as legally valid. That’s all. Is that so hard? We can find a way forward to accommodate both our marriages in a public setting. I’m passionate, as every other defender of marriage equality that I know, in defending the rights of religious groups and churches to marry whosoever they want, according to whatever they believe, and to discriminate as religious groups in private contexts against those in their direct employ who violate those teachings. I defended the right to homophobia of both the Boy Scouts and the St Patrick’s Day parade. Heck, I’m even against hate crime laws. 

I have nothing against the voluntary and peaceful activities of any religious group, and regard these organizations as some of the greatest strengths of America. The idea that gay people somehow want to persecute these churches, that we’re out to get you, and hurt you and punish you is preposterous. The notion that there are rampaging mobs of gay people beating up on Christians is also unhinged. To take one flash-point between a radical Dominionist group deliberately trying to rub salt in the wounds of Castro Street bar patrons after closing hours – in which no one was hurt – as the harbinger of some kind of mass gay pogrom against Christians is daffy. To equate a few drunks gays with Bull Connor is deranged and offensive. There are elements on both sides who do not represent the core. That core can coexist with mutual respect in the context of legal and civil equality.

Sorry, Rod, but you and I have to live in the disenchanted world our generation was born into. The dreams of total pre-modern coherence – whether in the malign fantasies of the Taliban or the benign aspirations of theocons longing for the 1950s in the 21st century – are dreams undone by freedom. We live in a new world, and we can and should create meaning where we can, in civil society, in private, through free expression and self-empowerment. But we cannot enforce that old meaning on others by law. And we certainly cannot do so arbitrarily, to the sole detriment of only one group in society – homosexuals. Rod knows that restoring his definition of marriage would require above all restricting the rights and freedoms of heterosexuals in modern society. But he also knows that will never fly. My advice to the theocons: by picking solely on homosexuals to force back the sexual and spiritual freedom of modernity, you look awful, you are losing the next generation and you are buttressing cruelty and pain. In your heart of hearts, you don’t want to do that.

So listen to your heart. Accept civil equality not as a defeat but as an opportunity: to persuade and evangelize for something beyond the civil that still respects the integrity of the civil. That’s what America’s founders intended. It is part of their genius that today’s fundamentalists simply do not understand.

Obama’s Faith

Joe Carter accuses me of not reading his orginal post on Obama’s Christianity, Alan Jacobs defends Obama’s faith, and Larison gets into the theological history. Freddie also responds here. Obama’s description of Jesus as a bridge between God and man (Joe’s core sticking point) does not, it seems to me, exclude his divinity, which is why I find Carter’s search for heresy misplaced. The Incarnation is just such a bridge and a mystery. I guess I find a modern Christianity that is not attuned to that mystery, not willing to reimagine and undergo God in ways that may not always merely repeat orthodoxy to be … well, moribund as a faith. I don’t think Obama’s engagement with it to be unChristian, merely modern.