ReligiousLeftLaw.com

Secularism and Self-Deception

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post which addressed the question whether Christianity paved the way for liberalism. See here. I maintained that Christianity in fact played a stronger role than is suggested by the account which grounds liberalism in the Enlightenment rejection of Christianity, but suggested that the relationship between Christianity and liberalism needs fuller exploration. Meanwhile Andy Koppelman has reminded me that Charles Taylor has a subtle account of the relationship in his magisterial A Secular Age. Indeed, Koppelman has an excellent review of the book in Dissent which was published in 2009. See here.

As Taylor describes it, the rise of liberalism grew out of the turn of Christianity toward this world and toward an emphasis on human flourishing. With this emphasis, it is easy to see how God might drop out of the picture. As Koppelman puts it, the “this-worldly ethos” did not need God.

Although the history developed by Taylor is central to the book, Taylor is ultimately concerned to show that acting on a belief in God is rational even in a secular age. In his lectures on William James, Varieties of Religion Today published four years before A Secular Age, Taylor put forth the argument that it was rational for an agnostic to act on the assumption that God exists.

Taylor, like Hans Kung, suggested that agnostics have a choice whether to act as if a God exists or not. For an agnostic either is a possibility. Taylor asks whether you would rather believe that the universe has a purpose and a meaning, and that you have a role to play in something larger than yourself or would you rather believe that the world is without meaning and purpose. As Koppelman observes the theist alternative is plagued by the problem of evil, and the secular alternative is embarrassed by the lack of meaning at its core. Indeed, the secular alternative has no grounding for a belief in objective morality. But the religious view is arguably not exempt from this concern. If God stands for something you believe in conscience to be immoral, is it right to follow God or your moral sense? If the latter, the religious view is on no better footing for morality’s grounding than the secular perspective.

One of the strong claims of A Secular Age is that the sociological claim that religion will fade away is profoundly mistaken. Religion has psychological attractions too powerful to expect it to fade into history.  At the same time, secularism has psychological attractions that its adherents ordinarily do not recognize as causes leading to their position. Secularists are psychologically attracted to an identity that allows them to think of themselves as scientific, rational, opposed to superstition, and tough-minded enough to stare a meaningless universe in the face and live with it (while taking a silent leap to an objective morality without grounding). Meanwhile, theists want to believe that there is something beneath the material surface of reality, and that “beneath” (however ungrounded it may be) supports an understanding of beauty, love, and the moral sense.  

Taylor’s view, as I understand it, is that in a secular age, religious people know they are taking a leap of faith. But many secularists are self-deceived.

Jacob Lawrence: Eight Studies for the Book of Genesis (1989)

As one might infer from several recent posts, I’ve been learning as much as I can of late about one of the best known (and rightly so) African-American painters, Jacob Lawrence (1917-2000). As it happens to be Sunday, I thought to share one of Lawrence’s later series of paintings (gouache on paper), Eight Studies for the Book of Genesis (1989) (below: ‘Genesis Creation Sermon’ series). In part, I’m also compensating for the fact that, teaching a course on “world religions” in a philosophy department, I have precious little opportunity to discuss (let alone show examples of) religious art (exceptions being a few words on Eastern Orthodox icons owing to the debate between iconodules and  iconoclasts; Islamic calligraphy; and Buddhist stupas). The images here are courtesy of the “The Walter O. Evans Collection of African American Art” at The SCAD Museum of Art, associated with The Savannah College of Art and Design. What follows is their introduction to the series (hyperlinks added) and the paintings, in numerical order, with captions.

“Based on biblical texts and his own memory of the Sunday sermons of the Rev. Adam Clayton Powell Sr. at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem [where Lawrence was baptized], New York, Jacob Lawrence’s ‘Genesis Creation Sermon’ series delivers a richly personal interpretation. Inspired by realism and details of iconography, Lawrence’s ‘Genesis Creation Sermon’ series also reveals his interest in references from art history. The bright colors and expressive, monumental preacher figure that stands central in each work reflect the artist’s affinity for action and resonance given in the sermon. The gestural movements of the preacher figure engage the viewer in the immediate foreground while also leading to a middle ground containing parish members watching in awe. In the background, four arched windows exhibit an exterior scene beyond the church that encompasses the theme of each Genesis Creation panel. Together, the ‘Genesis Creation Sermon’ series depicts a unique narrative universally celebrated and one that is unique to American art.”

1. In the beginning, all was void.

2.And God brought forth the firmament and the waters.

3. And God said, “Let the earth bring forth the grass, trees, fruits, and herbs.”

4. And God created the day and the night, and God created and put the stars in the sky.

Pope Francis and Rabbits

On the flight back to Rome from the Philippines, the papal spokesman, Fr. Federico Lombardi, indicated that Pope Francis was ready for another of his now famous airplane press conferences. And this one did not disappoint. He covered a number of topics, including his future travel plans to the United States -- the East Coast, yes, California and the Mexican border, no. He longs to see Africa and plans another trip to Latin America.

But none of that made news, not after his comments about "responsible parenthood" and "breeding like rabbits." In deciding how many children to have, he urged Catholic couples to take account of the concrete realities of their lives and form their consciences accordingly, in discussion with their pastors. Catholic couples, he said, are under no duty "to breed like rabbits."

Let's explore the implications of this statement. First, strictly speaking, Pope Francis was not saying anything new. In 1968, Pope Paul VI, in promulgating Humanae Vitae, the encyclical on birth control, used the language of "responsible parenthood" to tell Catholics that they were free to limit or space the number of children they wished to have. There is no obligation on Catholic couples to have large families. In truth, there never has been, although certainly that has been the tradition in many places and times.

What Pope Francis did, however, was to use unforgettable language to encourage parental responsibility. Paul VI's carefully-crafted language about responsible parenthood -- like most papal language -- was lost to the public, buried as it was in a densely-written, tightly-reasoned document accessible to experts but not to the laity at large. There are few Catholics with the training, desire, or fortitude to read an encyclical. But when a Pope tells Catholics that the Church does not require them to breed like rabbits, now that gets people's attention.

So, let's assume that the Pope knew just how much attention his "breed like rabbits" remark would receive. Why did he say this? Who was he trying to reach? I might guess that he was appealing to the average Catholic couple. What do we know about average Catholic couples? That they are very, very likely to use artificial means of contraception. It is commonly said that 98 percent of Catholic women have used contraceptives at some point in their lives. This figure is rightly viewed with skepticism, but still it is the case that the vast majority of Catholic women probably have.

So, how to interpret what the Pope was saying to that vast silent majority of Catholic women? It is fair to conclude the following: he is endorsing their sense of responsibility in using birth control, urging them to take another look at the Church, and encouraging them to form their consciences by talking to pastors. He is not changing doctrine. He has not altered the Church's stance on contraception, but he has opened a welcoming door to those who have chosen to use contraceptives for purposes that are not wrong.

This reading of the Pope's remarks is in keeping with his repeated emphasis on the conscience of the believer. Pope Francis wants an adult Catholicism. He does not want a spoon-fed, clericalized faith, with lay Catholics meekly nodding and following priestly directives like brain-dead automatons. He does not want rule-bound robots. He wants Catholics who think for themselves, who pray for guidance, talk to spiritual directors, and consider how the Church's teaching fits the reality of their lives.

Looking forward, Pope Francis' comments on responsible parenthood may be hinting at a theme he will be exploring in his impending encyclical on the environment. We know that he has been working long nights and days for months on this document. We know that it is well-researched and will address issues like man-made climate change. After all, Pope Francis has said as much in many of his public comments.

But his encyclical runs the risk of not being taken seriously if he fails to address questions about population. Large populations consume significant natural resources. The environmental literature makes this point over-and-over again. Pope Francis must come to terms with this argument. My guess is that he may even try to link "responsible parenthood" with larger concerns about the environment and that he has provocatively initiated that conversation with his "rabbits" remark.

Why does Pope Francis continue to use press conferences at 30,000 feet to make so many thought-provoking comments? It seems he is doing so because he wants to change the ways popes talk. Popes for centuries have spoken in a technical vocabulary and then only in carefully circumscribed conditions. Insiders call it theology, those on the outside might call it jargon. The Church's canon law even prescribes the appropriate degree of weight and seriousness particular types of papal speech should be given.

There is no provision in the canon law governing the papal airplane interview. And that may be precisely Pope Francis' point. Jesus did not speak in obscurantist prose under carefully-guarded conditions. And neither will the Pope. He is using these airline interviews as a way to step outside the established conventions and to say things that have always been off-limits. He wants to get conversations started and many of these conversations are about first principles. Let's not forget, when Pope Francis asked that famous question about gays, "who am I to judge?" he did so in an airplane interview.

My hunch is that the Pope relishes the chance to reopen these debates. For too long the Church acted as if major questions had been settled for all time. Questions like the goodness and legitimacy of gay relationships. All that remained was to pronounce anathema. By asking, "who am I to judge?" Pope Francis changed all of that. He did not change doctrine. But the Church also can never go back to business as usual. We are watching a newly-engaged laity see to that.

"You don't have to breed like rabbits." No, Pope Francis has not changed doctrine. But he has started a debate. The contraception question will never be viewed in the same way again. I was in college in the 1970s when my lagging faith was revived by the vigor of internal Catholic debates. The richness, vitality and diversity of an intellectual tradition really and truly engaging the problems of the world was attractive to me. Pope Francis is doing his level best to rouse that tradition from its long midnight slumber. And he is certainly causing many people to give the Church a fresh look.

Cross-posted: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/charles-j-reid-jr/pope-francis-and-rabbits_b_6520770.html 

Proper Dining Etiquette

I’m reading Kimberley Brownlee’s Conscience and Conviction: The Case for Civil Disobedience (Oxford University Press, 2012) by way of taking a brief break from Jonathan Israel (!) and so as to say some halfway intelligent or at least provocative things in a forthcoming blog post about civil disobedience. I think the book is quite good (‘thank God’ for ceteris paribus clauses and universal pro tanto moral judgments). Here’s a taste: In her analysis of “sincere moral conviction” by way of the “communicative principle of conscientiousness,” Brownlee claims four conditions for acceptance and proper appreciation of this principle, in short: consistency, universality, non-evasion, and dialogic. In a discussion of the “non-evasion” condition, she states that

“It requires that we bear the risk of honouring our convictions, which means that we do not seek to evade the consequences and, in some cases, take positive action to support our convictions. It is through our consistent non-evasion of the costs that we signal we are neither inconstant nor hypocritical. This condition is, of course, broadly context sensitive. It is often important to stand up for our beliefs in a public forum. But, for reasons of respect or sympathy [or, as we used to say, good manners!], it’s not usually important to stand up for our beliefs when we’re invited over to someone’s house for dinner.”

Image: Wallace Shawn and André Previn in My Dinner with Andre  (1981)

Belief in the Human Capacity for Repentance & Redemption

In support of assumptions regarding the “alterability (and redeemability) of people” in her philosophically important book, Conscience and Conviction: The Case for Civil Disobedience (2012), Kimberley Brownlee quotes a passage from Avishai Margalit (The Decent Society, 1996) in a footnote: ‘Even if there are noticeable differences among people to change, they are deserving of respect for the very possibility of changing. Even the worst criminals are worthy of basic human respect for the very possibility that they may radically evaluate their past lives and, if they are given the opportunity, may live the rest of their lives in a worthy manner….’ There is always a chance, writes Margalit , ‘no matter how small, that she will repent.’

I agree with Margalit—and Brownlee—on this score, and further believe that this possibility is an assumption or presupposition (perhaps ‘buried’ in the form of an unrecognized or under-appreciated premise) of some human rights norms and intrinsic to or an implication that follows from, some conceptions of human dignity, as a moral principle enshrined in various municipal and international legal instruments (e.g., human rights documents or constitutions). It may also be an assumption or premise of some fundamental propositions in criminal law. In any case, and however formally recognized in principle and occasionally evidenced in practice, I suspect most people do not actually subscribe to this belief. In other words, their thoughts on human nature, such as they are, lead them to deny the possibility, in principle, of repentance or redemption (for Christians, ‘conversion’ may be a condition for same) for those otherwise labeled “evil,” morally repugnant, chronically or heinously criminal, and so forth. I suspect this is one and perhaps the most significant reason that few people outside of some moral philosophers, cranks (in a non-pejorative sense), and legal practitioners, especially defense attorneys (in particular ‘cause lawyers’) express little (let alone an abiding) concern for clear violations of due process (a pillar of many domestic legal systems), which includes but need not be limited to, habeas corpus (and more widely if not deeply, procedural justice), be it, for example, in criminal procedures and proceedings involving terrorist suspects, or criminal suspects of a certain “race” or class accused of horrific crimes. A basic criminal law proposition, the presumption of innocence, already poorly understood and often ignored, has taken an Orwellian turn as a result of the national security state’s war on terror: guilty until proven innocent. And to make matters worse, there are no standards or clear means whereby one might even go about doing that (i.e., prove one’s innocence)!

Suggested Reading:

• Bravin, Jess. The Terror Courts: Rough Justice at Guantanamo Bay (Yale University Press, 2013).
• Cole, David. No Equal Justice: Race and Class in the American Criminal Justice System (The New Press, 1999).
• Cole, David and James X. Dempsey. Terrorism and the Constitution: Sacrificing Civil Liberties in the Name of National Security (The New Press, 3^rd ed., 2006).
• de Londras, Fiona. Detention in the ‘War on Terror’—Can Human Rights Fight Back? (Cambridge University Press, 2011).
• Denbeaux, Mark P. and Jonathan Hafetz, eds. The Guantánamo Lawyers: Inside a Prison Outside the Law (New York University Press, 2009).
• Freedman, Eric M. Habeas Corpus: Rethinking the Great Writ of Liberty (New York University Press, 2001).
• Hafetz, Jonathan. Habeas Corpus after 9/11: Confronting America’s New Global Detention System (New York University Press, 2011).
• May, Larry. Global Justice and Due Process (Cambridge University Press, 2011).
• Smith, Abbe and Monroe H. Freedman, eds. How Can You Represent Those People?  (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).
• Wagstaff, Robert H. Terror Detentions and the Rule of Law: US and UK Perspectives (Oxford University Press, 2014).

Images: Two panels (sans captions), nos. 14 and 22 respectively, from Jacob Lawrence’s series, The Migration of the Negro (1940-41).

Martin Luther King, Jr. Day: A Nonstandard Celebration

Harriet and the Promised Land, No. 10 (1967)

I like to think I’ve expanded my interest to include not just the Negro theme but man generally and maybe if this speaks through the Negro I think this is valid also…. I would like to think of it as dealing with all people, the struggle of man to always better his condition and to move forward…. I think all people aspire, all people strive towards a better human condition, a better mental condition generally.—Jacob Lawrence

Stokely Carmichael (Kwame Ture) (1966)

In perhaps a non-standard way of honoring Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I’m posting some (images of) art works by one of my favorite artists, Jacob Lawrence (September 7, 1917 – June 9, 2000):

“Lawrence is one of the first American artists trained in and by the black community in Harlem, and it is from the people of Harlem that he initially obtained professional recognition. He was also the first African American artist to receive sustained support from mainstream art museums and patronage outside of the black community during an era of legalized and institutionalized segregation. [….]

…Lawrence developed a philosophy regarding art and the role that it can play addressing social issues, particularly as they pertain to race. Though much of his career coincides with a period in which artists attempted to strip all narrative and literary references from their work, he has always maintained that art, as one of the highest forms of human endeavor, is too significant a communicative medium to be simply reduced to formal experimentation. For over sixty years and with intentionally limited means (water-based paints on boards or paper)[1], he has harnessed the seductive power of semi-abstract forms to address many of the great social and philosophical themes of the twentieth century, especially at they pertain to the lives and histories of African Americans: migration, manual labor, war, family values, education, mental health, and creativity. He made visible a side of American history that includes the contributions of African Americans; has presented scenes of daily life that provide a compassionate counterpoint to stereotypical images of African Americans; and painted poignant social commentary on the effects of racism and bigotry in American culture. His ability to distill the essence of these subjects into elemental shapes is unparalleled and one of the defining aspects of his work.”[2]

Confrontation at the Bridge (1975)

 

Struggle II—Man on Horseback (1965)

 

Soldiers and Students (1962)

Notes:

[1] On the role of intentional constraints (‘intentionally limited means’) in art, see Jon Elster, “Less is More: Creativity and Constraint in the Arts,” in his book, Ulysses Unbound: Studies in Rationality, Precommitment, and Constraints (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2000): 175-269.

[1] Peter T. Nesbett and Michelle DuBois, eds., Over the Line: The Art and Life of Jacob Lawrence (Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, in association with Jacob Lawrence Catalogue Raisonné Project, 2000): 11.

The Library (1966)

References & Further Reading:

• Denning, Michael. The Cultural Front: The Laboring of American Culture in the Twentieth Century. London: Verso, 2010 edition.
• Elster, Jon. “Less is More: Creativity and Constraint in the Arts,” in his Ulysses Unbound: Studies in Rationality, Precommitment, and Constraints. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2000.
• Hemingway, Andrew. Artists on the Left: American Artists and the Communist Movement, 1926-1956. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2002.
• Nesbett, Peter T. and Michelle DuBois. Jacob Lawrence: Paintings, Drawings, and Murals (1935-1999)—A Catalogue Raisonné. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, in association with Jacob Lawrence Catalogue Raisonné Project, 2000.
• Nesbett, Peter T. and Michelle DuBois, eds. Over the Line: The Art and Life of Jacob Lawrence. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, in association with Jacob Lawrence Catalogue Raisonné Project, 2000.
• Wheat, Ellen Harkins. Jacob Lawrence: American Painter. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, 1986.

The Republicans and France

In case you missed Dana Milbank's excellent column, see http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/dana-milbank-republicans-inconsistent-attacks-on-obamas-paris-response/2015/01/12/bd223d0a-9aa8-11e4-96cc-e858eba91ced_story.html?hpid=z2

Should European Countries Ban Criticism of the Prophet Mohammed as Hate Speech?

The radical Muslim cleric Anjem Choudary asks in USA Today why France permitted the tabloid to provoke Muslims. He suggests that everyone knows that Muslims are required to impose capital punishment on those who insult Mohammed. See here. Of course, his rendition of the obligations of Muslims is sharply contested. Sarah Harvard has a persuasive retort in Slate. She argues that violence in response to insults of Mohammed are not called for in Islam; indeed, she suggests that blasphemy laws are not called for either.

Nonetheless, those who insult Mohammed are surely aware that the possibility of violence by extremist individuals or groups is not trivial. Consider the threats against Salman Rushdie, the killing of Theo Van Gogh in response to his film on women and Islam, and the assassination attempts on the Danish cartoonist Kurt Westergaard. They should also be aware, as Choudary says, that a large segment of the world’s population is likely to be offended by such a publication if it should reach them. Do European countries have a basis for passing laws against hate speech while not passing laws against speech of this kind? To be consistent, are they required to pass laws against publishing insults of the Prophet or, publishing images of the Prophet (also condemned by the Hadith)? Is their failure to do so simply another example of anti-Muslim prejudice?

Not necessarily. I wish I had a well thought out response. I am not confident in my half-baked observations, but here they are. Publishing material that insults Mohammed is not necessarily an example of hate speech. It might be an instance of serious literary, political, or religious discourse wholly bereft of hatred. Those who publish tasteless jokes about the Prophet may be bad comedians, but hatred need not be involved. The same is true of those who publish images of the Prophet.  

At the same time, publications of this sort might be motivated by hatred. Is it consistent for Europeans not to legally intervene? I think the difference between racist hate speech and religious hate speech might make a difference. Both religious and racist hate speech can undermine equality, cause harm, and trigger breaches of the peace. But there is little to be said for the substance of racist hate speech. A country that values racial equality need not tolerate the denigration of vulnerable citizens on the basis of their skin color or ethnic background. Moreover, it strains credulity to suppose that the marketplace of ideas has been seriously imperiled by such regulation. But the history of Europe is permeated by examples of governments getting into trouble when they try to determine the content of religious truth or try to regulate discussions or presentations of religious doctrine. That has finally caused Western countries to make blasphemy laws a historical relic.

This does not mean that European countries are required to look the other way when Jews, Muslims, or other religious minorities are the object of hate speech. Discussions of religious doctrine even motivated by hate are not the same as stigmatizing adherents of a religion. Drawing lines, of course, can be difficult, and it may be that those countries have not done as well as they should in drawing those lines. But European countries hate speech laws do not require them to enter a religious thicket.

Social Security & The Welfare State: Essential Reading

Here is a comparatively short compilation (hence ‘essential reading’) on “Social Security and the Welfare State.”

Simone de Beauvoir in Harlem, 1947

“In a world which recognized the phenomenological truth of the body, the existential truth of freedom, the Marxist truth of exploitation, and the human truth of the bond, the derogatory category of the Other would be eradicated. Neither the aged nor women, nor anyone by virtue of their race, class, ethnicity or religion would find themselves rendered inessential. Beauvoir knows that it is too much to hope for such a world. She understands the lures of domination and violence. Throughout her career, however, she used philosophical and literary tools to reveal the possibilities of such a world and appealed to us to work for it.”—Debra Bergoffen, at the conclusion of her entry on Beauvoir in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Today is the birthday of Simone de Beauvoir  (9 January 1908 – 14 April 1986), so I wanted to share something from the archives of Ratio Juris I posted several years ago. I realize Beauvoir was not in any standard sense “religious,” although I believe her existentialist worldview and ethical commitments were, in important respects, “spiritual”* 

Below are a few snippets from Simone de Beauvoir’s (1908-1986) diary that detailed her thoughts and feelings upon venturing into Harlem during a visit to America. Beauvoir came to the States in January of 1947, keeping a fairly “detailed diary of her observations which was published in France in 1948 as L’Amérique au jour le jour” and to little notice several years later in England, and in English, as America Day by Day. The book was published (by the University of California Press) yet again with a new translation by Carol Cosman in 1999 and an inviting foreword by one of our nation’s best and more prolific historians, Douglas Brinkley (which first appeared in the New York Times Book Review in 1996). Beauvoir was by now a well-known existentialist philosopher and writer with a public identity as a cosmopolitan French intellectual tied to yet distinct from her lifelong companion, Jean-Paul Sartre. She is also rightly regarded as one of the seminal theorists of contemporary feminism.

Brinkley writes that,

“with the passage of time, America Day by Day emerges as a supremely erudite American road book—that distinctive subgenre based on flight of fancy rather than flights from economic hardship, as in John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath. In broader sociological terms, her critique outpaces William Least-Heat Moon’s Blue Highways: A Journey into America [1983]. In the realm of pure prose style, it easily transcends Henry Miller’s The Air-Conditioned Nightmare [1945]. And, for my money, in the field of European highbrow loathing of the cruder aspects of our democratic experiment, it is preferable to Charles Dickens’s haughty American Notes for General Circulation [1842]. [….]

A reader is struck not only by the meticulous descriptive passages on American history and geography but also by Beauvoir’s ability to encapsulate our national psyche (‘Optimism is necessary for the country’s social peace and economic prosperity’) and to comment so deftly on its shortcomings (‘even people of goodwill…refuse to articulate clearly the current conflict between justice and freedom, and the necessity of devising a compromise between these two ideas; they prefer to deny injustice and the lack of freedom’). [….]

Clearly a voyeur of America’s transient underbelly, Beauvoir’s able, like George Orwell in Down and Out in Paris and London [1933], to penetrate the haze and blue smoke of our nation’s tenderloin districts deeply enough to offer detached insights into desolation row. In Chicago with [Nelson] Algren as her guide, she learns firsthand about the world of morphine addicts and petty thieves, murderous gangsters, and midnight cops. ‘America is a box full of surprises,’ she writes, intoxicated by her walks on the wild side. [….]

Beauvoir’s peripatetic journey by automobile, train, and Greyhound bus took her from coast to coast and back, and illuminating sections of the memoir are devoted to Hollywood, the Grand Canyon, Reno, New Orleans, Las Vegas, and San Antonio. Always amused and exhilarated by the lapdog friendliness of urban and rural folk alike, she is also flabbergasted that these same good-natured people embody the volatile, schizophrenic mixture of ‘strictness and hypocritical license.’ An eternal rebel, she has an uncanny eye for the shallow extravagances of American culture and an abolitionist’s rage at the evil of segregation south of the Mason-Dixon line. While San Francisco and Chicago are celebrated in America Day by Day, other cities get scorched: ‘Williamsburg is one of the sorriest shams to which I’ve ever fallen victim,’ or ‘I dearly hope I’m never fated to live in Rochester.’ [….]

For women, and men, who want to experience vicariously Jack Kerouac’s open road with less machismo romanticism and more existential savvy, America Day by Day, hidden from us for nearly fifty years, comes to the reader like a dusty bottle of vintage French cognac, asking only to be uncorked.”

From American Day by Day:

“Of course, I want to get to know Harlem. It’s not the only black neighborhood in New York. There’s an important black community in Brooklyn, three or four areas in the Bronx, another called Jamaica in Queens, and few more on the city’s outskirts. In New York itself one finds neighborhoods here and there where black families live. Until 1900, other than the one in Brooklyn, the most important black community in New York was situated near West Fifty-seventh Street. Harlem’s apartment buildings were originally built for white tenants, but transportation was inadequate at the beginning of the century, and landlords had difficulty renting apartments in the eastern end of the district. At the suggestion of a black man, Philip A. Payton, who was involved in the rental business, blacks were offered the apartments on 134^th Street. Two buildings were filled this way, and soon more. At first, the whites didn’t perceive this invasion of black people; when they tried to stop it, it was too late. Blacks gradually rented all the available apartments and began to buy the private houses that were going up between Lenox and Seventh Avenue. Whites then felt justified in moving; as soon as one black family was spotted in a block of buildings, all the whites fled as if they were running from the plague. The blacks soon took over the whole district. Social and civic centers were formed; a black community took shape. Harlem expanded spectacularly after 1914.

Those among the French who get down on their knees to worship all-powerful America adopt all its prejudices even more obsequiously than Americans do. One of them says to me, ‘If you like, we’ll go through Harlem by car; you can go through Harlem by car, but you must never go on foot.’ A bolder Frenchman declares, ‘If you’re determined to see Harlem, in any case stick to the larger avenues. If something happens, you can always take shelter in the subway. But above all avoid the small side streets.’ And someone else tells me with a shiver that at dawn some whites were found in the gutter with their throats cut. In the course of my life, I’ve already come across so many places where right-thinking people declare you could not go that I’m not too impressed. I deliberately walked toward Harlem.

I walk toward Harlem, but my footsteps are not quite as carefree as usual; this isn’t just a walk but a kind of adventure. A force pulls me back, a force that emanates from the borders of the black city and drives me back—fear. Not mine but that of others—the fear of all those whites who never take the risk of going to Harlem, who feel the presence of a vast, mysterious, and forbidden zone in the northern part of their city, where they are transformed into the enemy. I turn the corner of one avenue and I feel my heart stop; in the blink of an eye, the landscape is transformed. I was also told, ‘There’s nothing to see in Harlem. It’s a corner of New York where people have black skin.’ And on 125^th Street I indeed discover the movie houses, drugstores, stores, bars, and restaurants of Forty-second or Fourteenth Street; but the atmosphere is as different as if I had crossed a chain of mountains or the sea. Suddenly, there’s a swarm of black children dressed in bright shirts of red-and-green plaid, students with frizzed hair and brown legs chattering on the sidewalks. Blacks sit daydreaming on the doorsteps, and others stroll with their hands in their pockets. The open faces do not seem fixed on some invisible point in the future but reflect the world as it is given at that moment, under this sky. There is nothing frightening in all this, and I even feel a new kind of relaxed gaiety that New York hasn’t yet given me. If I suddenly came upon Canebière [in southern France] at the corner of rue de Lille or Lyon, I would have the same pleasure. But the shift from my usual surroundings is not the only vivid aspect. Nothing is frightening, but the fear is there; it weighs on this great popular festivity. Crossing the street is, for me, like crossing through layers and layers of fear filling those bright-eyed children, those schoolgirls, those men in light suits, and those leisurely women.

One Hundred Twenty-fifth Street is a border—there are still few whites in evidence. But on Lenox Avenue, not a face that isn’t brown or black. No one seems to pay attention to me. It’s the same scenery as on the avenues of [downtown] Manhattan, and these people, with all their indolence and gaiety, seem no more unlike the inhabitants of Lexington Avenue than the people of Marseilles seem unlike the residents of Lille. Yes, one can walk on Lenox Avenue. I even wonder what it would take to make me flee, screaming, toward the protective entrance of the subway. It seems to me I would have as much difficulty provoking such an attack as I would provoking murder or rape in the middle of Columbus Circle in broad daylight. There must be some image of orgies going on in the heads of right-thinking people; for me, this broad, peaceful cheerful boulevard does not encourage my imagination. I glance at the small side streets: just a few children, turning on their roller skates, disturb the lower-middle class calm. They don’t look dangerous.

I walk on the big avenues and in the small side streets; when I’m tired, I sit in the squares. The truth is, nothing can happen to me. And if I don’t feel entirely secure, it’s because of that fear in the hearts of people who are the same color as I am. It’s natural for a wealthy bourgeois to be afraid if he ventures into neighborhoods where people go hungry: he’s strolling in a universe that rejects his and will one day defeat it. But Harlem is a whole society, with its bourgeois and its proletariat, its rich and its poor, who are not bound together in revolutionary action. They wan to become part of America—they have no interest in destroying it. These blacks are not suddenly going to surge toward Wall Street, they constitute no immediate threat. The irrational fear they inspire can only be the reverse of hatred and a kind of remorse. Planted in the heart of New York, Harlem weighs on the conscience of whites like original sin on a Christian. Among men of his own race, the American embraces a dream of good humor, benevolence, and friendship. He even puts his virtues into practice. But they die on the borders of Harlem. The average American, so concerned with being in harmony with the world and himself, knows that beyond these borders he takes on the hated face of the oppressor, the enemy. It’s this face that frightens him. He feels hated; he knows he is hateful. This thorn in his conciliatory heart is more intolerable than a specific external danger. There are fewer crimes in Harlem than on the Bowery; these crimes are only symbolic—not symbolic of what might happen but of what is happening, what has happened. Minute by minute the men here are the enemies of other men. And all whites who do not have the courage to desire brotherhood try to deny this rupture in the heart of their own city; they try to deny Harlem, to forget it. It’s not a threat to the future; it’s a wound in the present, a cursed city, the city where they are cursed. It’s themselves they’re afraid to meet on the street corners. And because I’m white, whatever I think and say and do, this curse weighs on me as well. I dare not smile at the children in the squares; I don’t feel I have the right to stroll in the streets where the color of my eyes signifies injustice, arrogance, and hatred.

It’s because of this moral discomfort, not timidity, that I’m happy to be escorted this evening to the Savoy by Richard Wright; I’ll feel less suspect. He comes to fetch me at the hotel, and I observe that in the lobby he attracts untoward notice. If he asked for a room here, he would surely be refused. We go eat in a Chinese restaurant because it’s very likely that they wouldn’t serve us in the uptown restaurants. Wright lives in Greenwich Village with his wife, a white woman from Brooklyn, and she tells me that every day that when she walks in the neighborhood with her little girl, she hears the most unpleasant comments. And what’s more, while we are looking for a taxi, men dart hostile looks at this black man with two white women. There are drivers who deliberately refuse to stop for us. After this, how could I claim to mingle peacefully in the life of Harlem? I feel myself stiffen with a bad conscience. While Wright buys tickets at the door of the Savoy, two sailors speak to Ellen and me, the way all sailors the world over speak to women at the doors of dance halls. But I’m more embarrassed than I’ve ever been before. I’ll have to be offensive or ambiguous—my very presence here is equivocal. With a word, a smile, Wright sets everything in order. A white man couldn’t have found just this world, this smile, and I know that his intervention, so simple and natural, will only aggravate my embarrassment. But I climb the stairs with a light heart: this evening Richard Wright’s friendship, his presence at my side, is a kind of absolution.”

* As John Cottingham explains, “at the richer end of the spectrum [of meanings of ‘spirituality’], we find the term used in connection with activities and attitudes which command widespread appeal, irrespective of metaphysical commitments or doctrinal allegiance. Even the most convinced atheist may be prepared to avow in interest in the ‘spiritual’ dimension of human existence, if that dimension is taken to cover forms of life that put a premium on certain kinds of intensely focused moral and aesthetic response, or on the search for deeper reflective awareness of the meaning of our lives and of our relationship to others and the natural world.” Thus defined, among contemporary philosophers who could be said to exemplify this non-religious spirituality I would count, among others, Owen Flanagan, Mary Midgley, Raymond Tallis, Grant R. Gillett, and Kwame Anthony Appiah. Among public intellectuals, albeit no less conversant in philosophy, I would cite the self-described “writer, lecturer and broadcaster,” Kenan Malik. Finally, some readers might recall my reference to the “Marxist Spirituality of C.L.R. James.”

Red-Green Socialism: A Brief Reading Guide

 

“In Marx’s analysis, the growing destruction of nature under capitalism is not simply a function of nature having become an object for humanity; rather, it is primarily a result of the sort of object that nature has become. Raw materials and products, according to Marx, are bearers of value in capitalism, in addition to being constituent elements of material wealth. Capital produces material wealth as a means of creating value. Hence, it consumes material wealth not only as the stuff of material wealth but also as a means of fueling its own self-expansion—that is, as a means of effecting the extraction and absorption of as much surplus labor time from the working population as possible. Ever increasing amounts of raw materials must be consumed even though the result is not a corresponding increase in the social form of surplus wealth (surplus value). The relation of humans and nature mediated by the labor process becomes a one-way process of consumption, rather than a cyclical interaction.”—Moishe Postone

“The problem with capital accumulation, then, is not only that it is unbalanced and crisis-ridden, but also that its underlying form of growth [emphasis added] as marked by runaway productivity that neither is controlled by the producers nor functions directly to their benefit. This particular sort of growth is intrinsic to a society based on value; it cannot be explained in terms of misdirected views and false priorities alone. Although the productivist critiques of capitalism have focused only on the possible barriers to economic growth inherent in capital accumulation, it is clear that Marx criticized both the accelerating boundlessness of ‘growth’ under capitalism as well as its crisis-ridden character. Indeed, he demonstrates that these two characteristics should be analyzed as intrinsically related.”—Moishe Postone

“…[A]ny attempt to respond fundamentally, within the framework of capitalist society, to growing environmental destruction by restraining this society’s mode of expansion would probably be ineffective  on a long-term basis—not only because of the interests of capitalists or state managers, but because failure to expand surplus value would indeed result in severe economic difficulties with great social costs. In Marx’s analysis, the necessary accumulation of capital and the creation of capitalist society’s wealth are intrinsically related. Moreover, …because labor is determined as a necessary means of individual reproduction in capitalist society, wage laborers remain dependent on capital’s ‘growth,’ even when the consequences of their labor, ecological and otherwise, are detrimental to themselves and others. The tension between the exigencies of the commodity form and ecological requirements becomes more severe as productivity increases and, particularly during economic crises and periods of high unemployment, poses a sever dilemma. The dilemma and the tension in which it is rooted are immanent to capitalism; their ultimate resolution will be hindered so long as value remains the determining form of social wealth. [….] The particular relation between increases in productivity and the expansion of surplus value shapes the underlying trajectory of growth in capitalism. This trajectory cannot be explained adequately in terms of the market and private property, which suggests that, even in their absence, economic growth would necessarily assume the form marked by increases in productivity much greater than the increases in social wealth they effect—as long as social wealth ultimately remains a function of labor time expenditure. Planning in such a situation, however successful or unsuccessful, would signify a conscious response to the compulsions exerted by the alienated form of social relations expressed by value and capital; it would not, however, overcome them.”—Moishe Postone

 

“For me Marxism is a quarry.”—Rudolph Bahro

“There has to be a change in our whole system of production, for technology in the present-day world carries the capitalist mode of production within itself.”—Rudolph Bahro

“More important than the quality or quantity of consumer goods, in my view, is the need for a new consumption pattern geared to the qualitative development of the individual, so that the length of young people’s education, for example, becomes a higher priority than the addition of one more piece of clothing to my wardrobe. [….] [W]e have not yet succeeded in breaking through the horizon of capitalist civilization to reach the vision of a world-wide alternative. It is true that the peoples of the world are at different levels of development, but one has to make use of the concrete possibilities where the civilization is not so overdetermined. [….] The point of the concept of cultural revolution is that man has to rise above the level of capitalist reproduction process for the satisfaction of life’s necessities. We cannot wait until we are sated with material goods. A level of basic needs has to be defined, and a standard of living may be achieved in underdeveloped countries that may be more rational than our own.”—Rudolph Bahro

• Bahro, Rudolf. From Red to Green. London: Verso Books, 1984.
• Benton, Ted. Natural Relations: Ecology, Animal Rights and Social Justice. London: Verso, 1993.
• Benton, Ted, ed. The Greening of Marxism. New York: The Guilford Press, 1996.
• Burkett, Paul. Marxism and Ecological Economics: Toward a Red and Green Political Economy. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books, 2009.
• Burkett, Paul. Marx and Nature: A Red and Green Perspective. Chicago, IL: Haymarket Books, 2014 ed. (1999).
  
• Carter, Alan. A Radical Green Political Theory. London: Routledge, 1999.
• Foster, John Bellamy. Marx’s Ecology: Materialism and Nature. New York: Monthly Review Press, 2000.
• Foster, John Bellamy. Ecology against Capitalism. New York: Monthly Review Press, 2002.
• Foster, John Bellamy. The Ecological Revolution. New York: Monthly Review Press, 2009.
• Foster, John Bellamy, Brett Clark, and Richard York. The Ecological Rift: Capitalism’s War on the Earth. New York: Monthly Review Press, 2010.
• Gorz, André. Ecology as Politics. Boston, MA: South End Press, 1980.
• Gorz, André (Chris Turner, tr.) Capitalism, Socialism, Ecology. London: Verso, 1994.
• O’Connor, James. Natural Causes: Essays in Ecological Marxism. New York: Guilford, 1998.
• Pepper, David. Eco-Socialism: From Deep Ecology to Social Justice. London: Routledge, 1993.
• Postone, Moishe. Time, Labor, and Social Domination: A Reinterpretation of Marx’s Critical Theory. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1993. [See in particular, ch.9, ‘The Trajectory of Production,’ 307-384.]
• Ryle, Martin. Ecology and Socialism. London: Radius, 1988.

Sullied (Natural & Social) Sciences: A Basic Bibliography

My latest bibliography on “sullied (natural and social) sciences” is here.

From the introduction: This compilation endeavors to help us appreciate where, when, how, and (especially if only hopefully) why the practice of science has gone (or is in danger of going) awry, egregiously failing to modestly conform to or at least sufficiently approach our ideal or best conceptions or models of what constitutes science as a form of intellectual inquiry and field of knowledge praxis. Not unrelated to this aim, is the desire to provide titles that enable one to better understand the pitfalls of “scientism,” as well as arrive at a nuanced if not sophisticated grasp of the methodological distinctions between the natural and social sciences (without assuming the former are ‘hard’ and the latter are ‘soft,’ in effect, failing to properly emulate the most putative exemplar of the former, namely, physics). I share the late John Ziman’s belief that “In less than a generation we have witnessed a radical, irreversible, worldwide transformation in the way that science is organized, managed and performed.”