My colleague, Gerard Bradley, has posted some thoughts about the back-and-forths going on in Kansas City between Gov. Sibelius and Archbishop Naumann. According to the Catholic News Service:
Archbishop Joseph F. Naumann of Kansas City, Kan., said Gov. Kathleen Sebelius should stop receiving Communion until she publicly repudiates her support of abortion and makes a "worthy sacramental confession" related to her stance.
Writing May 9 in The Leaven, the archdiocesan newspaper, Archbishop Naumann said the Catholic governor of Kansas has had a long record of supporting and advocating for legalized abortion and that her public stances have "grave spiritual and moral consequences."
The column comes after the archbishop said he learned that Sebelius recently received Communion in a Kansas parish. He said he had previously met with Sebelius and discussed his concerns about her position on abortion and her vetoes of legislation to limit abortion in the state.
Archbishop Naumann told Catholic News Service May 12 that he sent a letter in August to the governor requesting that she refrain from receiving Communion because of her actions in support of abortion. He also said after discussing the issue with his fellow Kansas bishops he sent Sebelius a second letter asking that she respect his earlier request.
The Kansas City Star opined recently that the Archbishop was "scandalously" demanding that the Governor submit to "his" will. For my own part, I don't know what the right thing -- or the canonically authorized / required thing -- for a bishop to do in these circumstances is. Put that question aside, for a moment. Prof. Bradley's post touches on a related matter:
. . . [Governor Sibelius] (partly) explains her vetoes as requirements of office, and not (at least not necessarily) as her own preferences. She says that court decisions about abortion rights show that the bills cross the constitutional line, and that her oath therefore requires her to veto the bills as unconstitutional.
By "unconstitutional" Governor Sibelius almost certainly means: contrary to a present majority view on the Supreme Court. But this is not the same thing as the Constitution or a sound interpretation of it. She should not veto an abortion bill based upon what five Justices say the Constitution means, unless that is also her view of what the Constitution truly requires. After all, she swore to "support the Constitution", not whatever a court says about it.
Maybe — maybe — it is sometimes legitimate for a governor to veto a bill which she thinks is constitutionally sound, but which she is sure a court will strike down . . .. But when fundamental matters of justice are at stake — as they are with abortion — this won't do.
So, if Governor Sibelius holds what she ought to hold about when people begin — at fertilization — and if she glances at the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, she will see where her constituional duty lies: assuring equal treatment for all persons (including those not yet born) under the homicide laws of Kansas.
I am not sure -- even after glancing at the relevant text -- that the 14th Amendment, properly understood, requires states to outlaw or regulate abortion. (To say this is not, of course, to suggest that states should not regulate abortion.) That said, I agree with Professor Bradley that it can be entirely appropriate -- more than "appropriate", in fact -- for non-judicial actors to, when exercising constitutionally conferred discretion, look to their own best understanding of the Constitution's meaning, and not simply to the latest interpretations offered by five Justices of the Supreme Court. At the same time, I think Prof. Bradley is also right that a Governor might well decide that, for any number of sound reasons, it does not make sense to sign a law that will, given all the givens, be invalidated by a court, and thereby put the political community to (arguably) wasted effort and expense. A question, though: Why is it, exactly, that "this won't do" when we are talking about "fundamental matters of justice"? I mean, even when the law at issue involves such a matter, I suppose the Governor could still reasonably conclude that, because the law is certainly, given the givens, going to be invalidated, there is no point in signing the bill. Indeed, the Governor might worry (I'm not saying this is Gov. Sibelius's worry) that signing the bill might, by facilitating a court fight, produce further entrenchment in legal doctrine of misguided judicial precedents. Is the idea that, when fundamental matters of justice are involved, the scandal of vetoing the bill for practical (or more thickly prudential) reasons is just too great? Or, is it that the veto crosses the line to culpable complicity in the injustice of the acts that the Court has, mistakenly, constitutionalized? Or something else?
Thoughts?
UPDATE: Matt Bowman writes in with this:
You ask “Why is it, exactly, that ‘this won't do’ when we are talking about ‘fundamental matters of justice’?” I think Evangelium Vitae 73 provides the answer. Not the famous caveat at the end of that section, but the opening paragraph. It says, “Abortion and euthanasia are thus crimes which no human law can claim to legitimize. There is no obligation in conscience to obey such laws; instead there is a grave and clear obligation to oppose them by conscientious objection.” This alone shows that there is a duty preventing one from declaring that even though a pro-life law is constitutional in the pure sense (as opposed to a five-vote-majority sense), it would be a prudent thing to veto the law. The points that precede section 73 bolster this point, so much so that I cannot list all of them. For the reasons explained there, public officials and the rest of us have a strong duty to oppose the court-precedent “law” that legitimizes abortion.
I can anticipate at least one objection, that this command applies only to conscientious objection and not to acts of public officials. I do not think the context allows for the separation of these concepts, since the Pope goes back and forth from this notion to the duties of the state and public officials. Furthermore, this objection proves the point in a way. If conscientious objection is a duty, and such objection is an exception to the ordinary norm that citizens should obey laws, how much more so is it a duty to oppose abortion-legitimizing laws in a perfectly legal and legitimate way (the executive act of signing a pro-life law), and in a way that arguably is mandated by one’s oath to uphold the constitution?
I will not open the can of worms about why the latter part of EV 73 does not justify supposed prudential reasons to veto a pro-life law in this situation, but suffice it to say I think such an argument would be very weak and, if expanded that far, would effectively nullify all the surrounding passages of EV establishing a duty to protect preborn life by means of the law. The main point for the present is that there is a duty to oppose abortion-legitimizing laws, signing pro-life laws is a fulfillment of that duty, the duty is so strong it requires conscientious objection, and therefore it applies to permissible acts of public officials and cannot be excused on the basis of supposed prudential objections.
Speaking of refreshing, if misguided, candor . . . "The Stupidity of Dignity" is the title of Steven Pinker's reaction to a collection of essays, Human Dignity and Bioethics, released recently by the President's Council on Bioethics. The piece is a rant -- Leon Kass is "pro-death" and "anti-freedom", the "theocons" are still coming, the Council is "imposing Catholicism", etc., etc., -- but revealing. Pinker spends little time actually engaging the various essays' arguments, and instead spends thousands of words convulsing in anguish over a conservative "ploy" -- worse yet, a "Catholic" plot (involving, apparently, Martha Nussbaum and Daniel Dennett) -- to throw up roadblocks to scientific progress. Whatever. Yuval Levin nails it, here.
Now, all that said, it is entirely appropriate, it seems to me, to demand that those who wield the concept of "dignity" in moral arguments work hard to figure out and express clearly just what it is they / we are talking about. Such demands, though, are better issued by people who actually care about the answer.
UPDATE: Fr. James Martin, S.J., weighs in, at America:
. . . To his credit, Mr. Pinker says that those who use the concept may not always be expressing the teaching in its fullness. Nonetheless, his article betrays a misunderstanding of understanding of the concept itself, and of its use in the world of Christian morality. You want to say to the writer: Let me get this straight, you're against the dignity of the human person?
Over at the First Things blog, Ryan Anderson has a very interesting (long, detailed) post called "The Rare Achievement of Disagreement", in which he reports on a recent symposium at Princeton called "Is it Wrong to End Early Human Life?" A bit:
“Look, when we think about ending an early human life, this is something that is really bad for the embryo or early fetus that dies, it’s losing out tremendously—I agree with that as I already said. And then you said that it’s one of the things that we should care about. And, um, I think that I should have said before that I think it’s really dangerous to slide from noticing that something is bad for something, to thinking that that gives us a moral reason. And just to prove that that doesn’t follow, think about plants. So lots of things are bad for trees, and plants, and flowers, and often that gives us no reasons whatsoever, certainly no moral reasons. In my view, fetuses that die before they’re ever conscious really are a lot like plants: They’re living things, but there’s nothing about them that would make us think that they count morally in the way that people do.”
That came from Princeton philosophy professor Elizabeth Harman during the question-and-answer period of last week’s star-studded symposium at Princeton titled “Is It Wrong to End Early Human Life?” . . .
Many, no doubt, will find Harman’s comparison of human fetuses to plants—not to mention Singer’s moral defense of infanticide—deeply repugnant. I certainly do. But these are merely the conclusions of a chain of (gravely mistaken) moral reasoning, and such intellectually honest reflection is to be preferred, in fact welcomed, over the unprincipled rationalization that often takes its place. When people like Harman and Singer speak openly and follow their premises to their logical conclusions, the audience realizes what is at stake when a commitment to intrinsic human dignity and equality is rejected—and that realization is a very good thing. . . .
In his book, Dispelling the Myths of Abortion History, Villanova law prof Joseph Dellapenna challenges the legal history underlying Justice Blackmun's analysis in Roe. Now Oklahoma City law prof Carla Spivack has posted a paper challenging Dellapenna's analysis.
Speaking of the communion of saints, two people I most look forward to welcoming into the fold of officially recognized saints are John Henry Newman (whose beatification was recently approved), and Dorothy Day. Today's Zenit has an interesting interview with Robert Ellsberg, the editor of a newly-released collection of Dorothy Day's diaries, "The Duty of Delight". Here's an excerpt:
Q: Why have you chosen to title her diaries, "The Duty of Delight"?
Ellsberg: This was a line that recurred frequently in her diaries. She herself contemplated using it as the title for one of her books.
Often, after a recital of drudgery and disappointment, she would simply write, "The duty of delight."
I think it was a reminder to seek God in all things. That is really the theme of her diary, which is a chronicle of her efforts to perform all the chores and duties of her daily life with love and joy.
And here's a description of a more obscure saint that I was delighted to see recently in Magnificat. Maybe he should be resurrected in the public eye as a patron for those victimized by predatory lenders? Or the patron of lawyers struggling to find good witnesses for their cases?
Saint Severus of Naples, Bishop (c. 409). Severus served as bishop of Naples, Italy, enriching his dioceses with the erection of numerous churches. He is said to have defended in a most remarkable manner a widow victimized by a greedy creditor. The latter was owed the tiny sum of one egg by the woman's husband, who had forgotten to pay the debt before dying. Seizing the opportunity to profit from the man's death, the creditor made a false claim that the deceased had owed him a considerable sum. As the widow was too poor to pay the amount, the judge ordered the woman and her children to be sold into slavery. In desperation, the widow fled to the bishop, begging him to intervene. Severus summoned the people of Naples to the deceased man's tomb. After praying that God would make known the truth of the case, Severus called upon the dead man to speak from the grave as to what he really owed. The corpse replied, "I owe but one egg."
The WSJ reports that "John Hagee, the controversilettal Evangelical pastor who endorsed John McCain, will issue a letter of apology to Catholics today for inflammatory remarks he has made..." For the full article and a link to the letter, click here.
David Brooks argues that the revolution in neuroscience is not going to erode belief in God's existence, but it is likely to erode belief in particular religious traditions. An excerpt:
First, the self is not a fixed entity but a dynamic process of relationships. Second, underneath the patina of different religions, people around the world have common moral intuitions. Third, people are equipped to experience the sacred, to have moments of elevated experience when they transcend boundaries and overflow with love. Fourth, God can best be conceived as the nature one experiences at those moments, the unknowable total of all there is. . . .
In unexpected ways, science and mysticism are joining hands and reinforcing each other. That’s bound to lead to new movements that emphasize self-transcendence but put little stock in divine law or revelation. Orthodox believers are going to have to defend particular doctrines and particular biblical teachings. They’re going to have to defend the idea of a personal God, and explain why specific theologies are true guides for behavior day to day. I’m not qualified to take sides, believe me. I’m just trying to anticipate which way the debate is headed. We’re in the middle of a scientific revolution. It’s going to have big cultural effects.
An interesting post over at Salon on the intersection of climate change and peak oil with the culture wars:
Partisan conservatives pooh-pooh peak oil (and human-caused climate
change) because they think that to concede that these challenges are
real and must be confronted is to acknowledge that greed is not always
good, and that free market capitalism must be restrained, or at least
tinkered with substantially. Peak oil and climate change are fronts in
the culture wars, and to some conservatives, watching the price of oil
rise as the Arctic ice melts, it might feel like being in Germany at
the close of World War II, with the Russians advancing on one front
while U.S.-led forces come from the other. The propositions that cheap
oil is running out and the world is getting hotter -- as a result of
our own activities -- threaten a whole way of life. The very idea that
dirty Gaia-worshipping hippies might be right is absolute anathema.
Given that many on the left also see peak oil and climate change as
cultural battlefields, as weapons with which to assault enemies whose
values they politically and aesthetically oppose (see James Kunstler),
it's no wonder that some conservatives are fighting back like caged
rats, or that they want to blame speculators for oil prices, or biased
scientists for climate change.
Of course, it doesn't have to be this way. Sensible people could agree
that well-regulated markets incorporating the appropriate prices for
environmental pollution and energy consumption will provide powerful
incentives to allow humanity to avoid devastating energy shocks and the
complete despoliation of the planet. We don't have
to consign ourselves to totalitarian dichotomies in which vegan organic
gardeners stand on one side, threatening to employ the power of the
state to deny everyone else their right to eat bloody porterhouse
steaks; while across the trenches stand ranks of
right-to-keep-and-bear-arms,
give-me-my-SUV-and-suburban-gated-community-or-give-me-death Ayn-Rand
disciples, draped in the furs of newly extinct mammal species, for whom
a lifetime in hell would be infinitely preferable to a
government-mandated solar power water heater.
But you know how it is -- first you agree to a cap-and-trade
carbon-dioxide emissions limiting system, and before you can say "Kyoto
Protocol" the New World Order Government is telling you which cartoons
your kids are allowed to watch. Or, god forbid, that you have to take
the bus.
The conversation has been rich (recent posts are here, here, here, here, here, here, and here). This is in response to Steve's May 9 post, The Communion of the Saints and the Big Tent. Steve presents two images of the Church: the apostolic and the communion of saints and recognizes that these two images are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Yet, he hints (correct me if I am wrong Steve) at preferring the "communion of saints" imagery, quoting Joan Chittister as imagining the Church as not an institution "but rather 'the gathering of the seekers who celebrate the continuing presence of Christ among them.'"
Isn't this a reductionist view? Isn't the Church both/and? Isn't it both the communion of the saints and an institution governed by a non-democratic heirarchy who are successors to the apostles? The Catechism clearly contemplates both images. The call to holiness clearly precedes the insitutional aspects of the Church. Paragraph 773 says that the "'Marian' dimension of the Church precedes the 'Petrine.'"
But, the institutional Church is a reality. And, given human weakness, an institutional governing structure is necessary to provide an order and direction toward holiness. Look at the Protestant world, which views the Church primarily as the communion of believers with no heirarchical structure. Today there are more than 20,000 denominations and counting. These denominations often disagree with one another (in mutually exclusive ways) over such core issues as the means to salvation. How is the "saint" to know what proposed teaching is "true?" Further back in our common history there were vigorous and centuries long fights over such central issues as the nature of Christ and the nature of the Godhead. It was the institution that settled these questions.
Steve, would you agree that Christ set up an institutional structure and that the bishops (with primacy in the Bishop of Rome) have governing authority over the Church? If you agree, don't you (we) owe them respect because of their God-given office? This brings us back to Cardinal Dulles article. Cardinal Dulles says that "Dissent, if it arises, should always be modest and restrained. Dissent that is arrogant, strident, and bitter can have no right of existence in the Church. Those who dissent must be careful to explain that they are proposing only their personal views, not the doctrine of the Church. They must refrain from bringing pressure on the magisterium by recourse of popular media." Is Cardinal Dulles wrong? If so, how? Shouldn't the saints attempting to celebrate Christ's presence be modest and restrained?
On the topic of conscience and authority, Steve is correct to emphasize the Christian tradition's deep respect for the subjective dimension of conscience. This does not mean, nor do I read Steve as suggesting, that there is no objective moral truth. Since the time of the Scholastics (and as foreshadowed as far back as Paul's epistles), Christianity has employed a dual framework for understanding conscience: synderesis is a person's general, non-deliberative moral knowledge, and conscientia refers to the freely chosen application of that knowledge to a particular set of facts.The moral truth to which synderesis pertains does not change simply because we do not accurately perceive its substance or practical import. At the same time, it is wrong to act against one's conscience, even an improperly formed conscience. The gap between moral truth and application is not necessarily fixed; it may be closed through experience or teaching.
What then do we do with a conscience that is not, in the Church's understanding, accurately perceiving and/or applying moral truth, especially if the gap cannot be closed through experience or teaching? At some point, is a Catholic supposed to defy the claims of her own conscience and submit to Church teaching that runs contrary to her moral convictions?
Take birth control, for example. Suppose that a Catholic reads all of the relevant Church teaching on the subject, talks to her priest, prays, etc., but that she still remains convinced that the use of contraception within marriage is not immoral. At this point, how should the conversation go between the woman and her Church? The Church can say, "we respect your conscience, but it is improperly formed, so in acknowledgment of that fact, you should submit to Church teaching." The woman responds, "how is it improperly formed?" There is no response that the Church can make on this point that has not already been considered and rejected by the woman. Ultimately, it is a straightforward claim of authority by the Church. If the woman's only reason for concluding that her conscience has been improperly formed is the Church's assertion that it has been improperly formed, that seems to create tension with: 1) a fulsome respect for conscience; and 2) the belief that knowledge of the moral law, as pertains to contraception at least, has been written on our hearts.
I can see how this problem can be worked out from the standpoint of ecclesiology (as members of a faith tradition that is bigger than ourselves, not all of our truth claims require our individual assent), but I have a harder time working it out from the standpoint of conscience (for which individual assent is central). Obviously, I have more questions than answers on this tension, and I welcome others' views.
