Unlike E.J. Dionne (who writes about Rep. Ryan's views, retirement decision, and legacy in Commonweal, here), I do think there is something "tragic" about the possibility that "Paul Ryan started his political life hoping to be the champion of a sunny, forward-looking conservatism [but will instead] step down from the House speakership as the personification of conservatism’s decline."
I do not share Dionne's view that "entitlement reform" needs scare-quotes or is a Randian euphemism for coldhearted indifference to the vulnerable. But, I agree with him that the contrast between Ryan's personal and public decency and that of the current leader of his party is glaring and also that Ryan (like many others in government and public life) has been insufficiently candid and clear about that leader's erratic and unworthy actions and statements. I would also contrast what I think (though perhaps Dionne does not) is Ryan's obvious aptitude for and engagement with policy and his basic moral commitments (commitments that were, I would insist, shaped more by a conscientious, good-faith reflection on Catholic Social Teaching than by Rand's foolish writings or by what some of Ryan's Catholic critics imprecisely call "libertarianism"). I think American politics -- and the larger conversation about Catholicism, citizenship, politics, and the common good -- will be worse off for his absence.
My colleague at Notre Dame, philosopher Don Howard, has posted this piece called "Whether Robots Deserve Human Rights Isn't the Correct Question. Whether Humans Really Have Them Is." He opens with this:
While advances in robotics and artificial intelligence are cause for celebration, they also raise an important question about our relationship to these silicon-steel, human-made friends: Should robots have rights?
A being that knows fear and joy, that remembers the past and looks forward to the future and that loves and feels pain is surely deserving of our embrace, regardless of accidents of composition and manufacture — and it may not be long before robots possess those capacities.
Yet, there are serious problems with the claim that conscious robots should have rights just as humans do, because it’s not clear that humans fundamentally have rights at all. The eminent moral philosopher, Alasdair MacIntyre, put it nicely in his 1981 book, "After Virtue": "There are no such things as rights, and belief in them is one with belief in witches and in unicorns."
It's not obvious to me that all "advances in robotics and artificial intelligence are cause for celebration" -- some are, certainly, but some might be more cause for concern -- but put that aside. I also agree (how could one not?) that "robots" do not possess or "deserve" "human rights." They are, and will remain, machines. The moral questions they present have to do with how they are used and not, say, with how they are treated by governments.
I understand, of course, the MacIntyre critique of "rights" and "rights talk", but think that taking just the "witches and unicorns" quote out of context gets both MacIntyre, and the facts of the matter, not-quite-right. Contrary to Howard's report, "most people" do not believe "that rights are conferred upon people by the governments under which they live" and, with all due respect, it is simply a (mistaken) ipse dixit to state that "[t]here simply is no objective basis for [claims that human persons ought to be treated in certain ways, and not in others, by virtue of what human persons are and are for]."
Certainly, Howard is correct to remind us that our thinking and talking about morality is incomplete if it revolves entirely around "rights" and does not include attention to "virtues." But, it seems to me (and I'm certain it seems to MacIntyre) that meaningful "virtue-talk" depends no less than meaningful "rights-talk" on there being certain things that are, objectively, true about persons.
I enjoyed Sonny Bunch's review of A Quiet Place in the Washington Post. A bit:
. . . Merely surviving is not enough. Merely surviving is empty. Merely surviving is not what living a life to the fullest is all about. A life without family is sad; a life without family is a life without a future. Evelyn and Lee have to demonstrate to Regan and Marcus that there is a reason to go on — and the only reason any of us has to go on, really, is to ensure the propagation of the species. The paucity of dialogue required by the film’s conceit, and the confidence with which Krasinski shoots the picture, guides us through a life fully lived: We see the efforts undertaken to muffle a crying baby without killing it, how to live in a world where sound can be deadly. Far from looking horrible, it looks homey. Difficult, yes, but filled with love.
“A Quiet Place” is about what it means to be alive, what it means to be human, what it means to continue to exist in a world that has made being human virtually impossible. A film about the importance of passing on what you know and what you are to the next generation. . . .
I have similar thoughts about McCarthy's The Road.
Pope Francis has a new "Apostolic Exhortation" (for more on what that is, especially if you are a religion-beat journalist writing about the matter, go here) called "Rejoice and Be Glad" (Gaudete et exsultate). It is discursive, and covers a lot of ground. Among other things, the Pope talks about the challenges posed to joyfulness and "holiness" by some of our social-media and information-gathering technologies. A bit:
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God”
87. This Beatitude makes us think of the many endless situations of war in our world. Yet we ourselves are often a cause of conflict or at least of misunderstanding. For example, I may hear something about someone and I go off and repeat it. I may even embellish it the second time around and keep spreading it… And the more harm it does, the more satisfaction I seem to derive from it. The world of gossip, inhabited by negative and destructive people, does not bring peace. Such people are really the enemies of peace; in no way are they “blessed”.[73]
[73] Detraction and calumny are acts of terrorism: a bomb is thrown, it explodes and the attacker walks away calm and contented. This is completely different from the nobility of those who speak to others face to face, serenely and frankly, out of genuine concern for their good.
...
115. [We] can be caught up in networks of verbal violence through the internet and the various forums of digital communication. [L]imits can be overstepped, defamation and slander can become commonplace, and all ethical standards and respect for the good name of others can be abandoned. The result is a dangerous dichotomy, since things can be said there that would be unacceptable in public discourse, and people look to compensate for their own discontent by lashing out at others. . . .
116. Inner strength, as the work of grace, prevents us from becoming carried away by the violence that is so much a part of life today, because grace defuses vanity and makes possible meekness of heart. The saints do not waste energy complaining about the failings of others; they can hold their tongue before the faults of their brothers and sisters, and avoid the verbal violence that demeans and mistreats others. Saints hesitate to treat others harshly; they consider others better than themselves (cf. Phil 2:3).
I particularly liked this passage, which seems relevant both to parenting tweens and teenagers and teaching in today's colleges and universities:
167. The gift of discernment has become all the more necessary today, since contemporary life offers immense possibilities for action and distraction, and the world presents all of them as valid and good. All of us, but especially the young, are immersed in a culture of zapping. We can navigate simultaneously on two or more screens and interact at the same time with two or three virtual scenarios. Without the wisdom of discernment, we can easily become prey to every passing trend.
"A culture of zapping." Is the Pope sub-tweeting David Lodge?
Here's Michael O'Loughlin's take, at America, on the new apostolic exhortation, Gaudete et Exsultate. Here's a bit:
Reflecting on the beatitudes, Francis says that when Jesus said “blessed are the peacemakers,” Christians often think of “many endless situations of war in our world.” But, he asks, what are the more personal situations that could benefit from a peacemaker?
“I may hear something about someone and I go off and repeat it,” he writes as an example. “I may even embellish it the second time around and keep spreading it.”
Though Francis does not point to social media specifically, he writes that people who gossip seek to harm the target, which leads to the gossiper taking even “more satisfaction” in the slander.
“The world of gossip, inhabited by negative and destructive people, does not bring peace,” he says. “Such people are really the enemies of peace; in no way are they ‘peacemakers.’”
Certainly, there's a lot of nastiness in "St. Blog's" and "Catholic Twitter." Those of us who participate in these "spaces" need to do better. And, of course -- as with calls for "civility" or "bipartisanship" in politics -- it's human to find it easier to see others' missteps than to confront one's own.
I neglected to mention, a few weeks ago, the occasion of the 14th anniversary of the launching of Mirror of Justice. Tempus fugit, and all that. It's fun to read the old posts . . . and also to note how the multiplication of social-media platforms and conversation-vehicles (and argument vehicles) has affected the way we blog here (and the frequency of our posts!). By my count, we have -- among all the MOJers -- put up about 15,800 posts. (I'm sure you've read every one, dear reader!) Have we "moved the ball" in terms of the "development of Catholic legal theory"?
Back in 2014, our own Rob Vischer posted these thoughts, ("What has changed . . . what hasn't?") reflecting on what was then this blog's ten-year anniversary. Worth re-reading!
It's been 13 years. I remember the moment, sitting in a classroom at the Indiana University during a conference about the jurisprudence of William Rehnquist, when I learned that the man whose work, thought, writing, and life I admire more than pretty much anyone had gone to his reward. Here is a link to a link to a whole bunch of "John Paul II and jurisprudence" posts at MOJ.
Because the country's greatest NCAA men's basketball program is not competing in the Final Four, and notwithstanding my beloved spouse's attachments to the great state of Kansas, I'm cheering for Loyola and Villanova tonight. (Catholic opposition to Michigan is, of course, overdetermined. Sorry, Prof. Moreland.) This NYT article -- despite a cringe-inducing, clunky line about "dogma-tinged" charisms -- is a good read about the many reasons why urban Catholic schools have excelled at basketball. And, of course, how about the Irish?
