Friday, August 19, 2016
Yesterday I read a Christian leader's commentary on the presidential election, but I had to stop when I came to his assertion that candidate X is "wrong on 100% of the issues" that matter to Christians. This all-or-nothing take on candidates is hardly new ground for campaign strategists, but I'm struck by how deeply it has infiltrated the society at large, including Christians attempting to analyze the election through the lens of their faith.
The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church addresses "civil friendship" as part of its teaching on the political community. (Para. 390) The Church emphasizes the importance of civil friendship as "the most genuine actualization of the principle of fraternity, which is inseparable from that of freedom and equality," and entails "inner acceptance of the needs of others." It is not part of the sphere of rights, which "is that of safeguarded interests, external respect, the protection of material goods and their distribution according to established rules."
In the current presidential campaign, we are focused, as we should be, primarily on how each candidate will impact the sphere of rights. Nevertheless, the divisive and apocalyptic rhetoric of this political season cannot be easily separated from the viability of civil friendship in our country. When each candidate is EVIL! EVIL! EVIL!, each candidate's supporters can only be understood as unable or unwilling to recognize or reject said evil.
Does the rhetoric we deploy in an effort to ensure that Trump (or Clinton) is not President make it more difficult to cultivate the civil friendship that is more central to society's flourishing than a particular President's impact on the sphere of rights? Relatedly, does this rhetoric make it more difficult to foster a culture of political cooperation that will be necessary come January when President Trump (or Clinton) will be tasked with leading the country? Put differently, should the way we speak of the candidates aim toward our responsibilities as citizens come November 9, not simply our priorities as voters on November 8?
I'm not sure what this would look like, but I know we're not seeing much of it. A few tentative thoughts on how we can better convey the respect and empathy on which civil friendship and responsible citizenship depend:
1) We should strive to praise the laudable traits and policy positions of the candidate we oppose, even as we criticize the traits and policy positions we abhor.
2) We should strive to be specific and substantive in our critiques of the candidate we oppose.
3) We should talk less about the candidates themselves, and more about the underlying issues that motivate our fellow citizens to support one candidate or the other. (And yes, this year especially, for many Americans, Trump himself is a major motivation to support Clinton, and vice versa; but there are deeper concerns at play here too.)
Christians have strong opinions about the outcome of this election, as we should. But we also have to ask ourselves, do we want to contribute to the likelihood that our country will flourish through the bonds of civil friendship and collaborative governance even if the candidate we have designated as EVIL! EVIL! EVIL! prevails? If so, how should that change the nature and tone of our current political engagement?
Friday, August 12, 2016
Among the many, many downsides of the 2016 presidential election, one potential upside is the overdue demise of the candidate scorecard that has been popular in Christian circles since at least the early 1990s when Pat Robertson's Christian Coalition promoted them heavily. The 2016 election brings their flaws into stark relief:
1) It is impossible to distill a candidate's character into a scorecard format. Both candidates this year present character questions that are central to voters' evaluation of their candidacies to a degree that we have not seen in recent elections. To imply, as the Family Research Council scorecard does, for example, that a Christian's choice should boil down to a list of questions such as, "Do you support or oppose the federal funding of embryo-destructive stem cell research?" misses the elephant in the room.
2) Even when it comes to the issues themselves, a scorecard is often unhelpfully simplistic. Both Bill Clinton (1992) and Hillary Clinton (2016) support a constitutional right to abortion, but are there meaningful differences between the two on this issue that should matter to Christians? How much should Donald Trump's support of religious liberty matter if he understands the primary threat today as the inability of pastors to endorse candidates? Should a Christian ever be content to know whether a candidate "supports or opposes the repeal of Obamacare" without knowing what the candidate would offer in its place?
3) Scorecards do not capture the depth of commitment reflected in a candidate's past statements and actions. It's easy to check a box. It's much harder to expend the political capital necessary to push change on an issue, as we've seen with candidates on both sides of the aisle regarding issues that matter to Christians.
4) The scorecard approach prioritizes stand-alone issues over coherent governance. Support deficit reduction? Great. Support increased infrastructure spending? Super. Support protection for Social Security? Fine. Now tell me how you're going to make all of it work together. Being the President is complicated, requiring difficult trade-offs. Christians have been too focused on a candidate's stance on particular issues, as opposed to more comprehensive (and admittedly messier) questions of how the pieces will fit together.
5) The lineup of "Christian" issues that has populated scorecards since their introduction is increasingly narrow and short-sighted relative to the worldviews represented by the candidates and their platforms. If this election represents a realignment, Christian voters are not being well served by the premise of scorecards -- that we can simply tally up the checked boxes on a few issues that we have cared about over many election cycles.
Issues matter (and I wish they mattered more in the current campaign) but they need to be analyzed in the context of the candidate's character, worldview, and track record. We need more nuance, not less, and scorecards feed our culture's seemingly limitless appetite for easy, quick and categorical judgment. When the 2016 election is mercifully behind us, I hope that scorecards are too.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Yesterday the Institute for the Advancement of the American Legal System released the results of a multi-year study in which 24,000 attorneys from all 50 states participated. One key conclusion is that new lawyers need not only IQ and EQ, but also “a high ‘character quotient.’ Integrity, work ethic, grit, and common sense are just a few of the necessary characteristics.” From the report:
[According to the lawyers surveyed, new law school grads] need to have a blend of legal skills and professional competencies, and, notably, they require character. In fact, 76% of characteristics (things like integrity, work ethic, common sense, and resilience) were identified by half or more of respondents as necessary right out of law school, while just 46% of professional competencies (like arriving on time, listening attentively, and teamwork) were identified by half or more as similarly necessary. Legal skills (like legal research, issue spotting, and legal analysis) were identified by half or more of respondents as necessary right out of law school to an even lesser degree than either characteristics or professional competencies. Specifically, fewer than half of the legal skills we asked about—just 40%—were identified as necessary right out of law school. This is not to suggest that legal skills were viewed as unnecessary by respondents. In total, 98% of the legal skills we asked about were identified as necessary, but they were identified as foundations that could be acquired over time and that were not necessary as the new graduate entered his or her career.
As Catholic law schools work to articulate how a school's Catholic identity can and should matter to students faced with a difficult job market, these insights are key. Other law schools can build character too, of course, but if we've been taking seriously the relevance of whole-person education, meaningful community, mentoring, and moral formation to our Catholic legal education project, we should have a significant advantage.
Monday, July 25, 2016
In light of arguments by Robby George and others that we are in a neo-Gnostic age, Dov Fox and Alex Stein have posted a fascinating new paper, Dualism and Doctrine. Here's the abstract:
What kinds of harm among those that tortfeasors inflict are worthy of compensation? Which forms of self-incriminating evidence are privileged against government compulsion? What sorts of facts constitute a criminal defendant’s intent? Existing law pins the answer to all these questions on whether the injury, facts, or evidence at stake are “mental” or “physical.” This key assumption that operations of the mind are meaningfully distinct from those of the body animates fundamental rules in our law.
A tort victim cannot recover for mental harm on its own because the law presumes that he is able to unfeel any suffering arising from his mind, by contrast to his bodily injuries over which he exercises no control. The Fifth Amendment forbids the government from forcing a suspect to reveal self-incriminating thoughts as a purportedly more egregious form of compulsion than is compelling no less incriminating evidence that comes from his body. Criminal law treats intentionality as a function of a defendant’s thoughts altogether separate from the bodily movements that they drive into action.
This essay critically examines the entrenchment of mind-body dualism in the Supreme Court doctrines of harm, compulsion, and intentionality. It uses novel insights from neuroscience, psychology, and psychiatry to expose dualism as empirically flawed and conceptually bankrupt. We demonstrate how the fiction of dualism distorts the law and why the most plausible reasons for dualism’s persistence cannot save it. We introduce an integrationist model of human action and experience that spells out the conditions under which to uproot dualism’s pernicious influence within our legal system.
Sunday, July 10, 2016
I viewed last week's horrific violence through the lens of John Inazu's important new book, Confident Pluralism, in which he affirms the importance of certain constitutional commitments (focusing on the right of association and the public forum and funding requirements) and encourages the "civic aspirations" of tolerance, humility and patience. He explains:
Tolerance is the recognition that people are for the most part free to pursue their beliefs and practices, even those beliefs and practices we find morally objectionable. Humility takes the further step of recognizing that others will sometimes find our beliefs and practices morally objectionable, and that we can't always "prove" that we are right and they are wrong. Patience points toward restraint, persistence, and endurance in our interactions across difference.
Judging from my social media feeds and a few face-to-face conversations, the divergence in our perspectives on last week's events is nearly overwhelming. Even among those who are on the front lines protesting police actions, for example, there can be a substantial disconnect. In the Twin Cities, our local #BlackLivesMatter leaders -- already viewed as radical and counterproductive by many whites -- are under pressure for not being radical enough, accused of having embraced "white neoliberal" principles of activism (namely pacifism). That pressure was on display last night, as protests here turned violent. I imagine that many participants on both sides of the debate about police conduct toward blacks would not only place less importance on tolerance, humility and patience than John does, but they might deem those aspirations as unrecognizable given the stakes and nature of the debate.
John has been closer to the post-Ferguson conversations than I have, so I know that his analysis incorporates the current reality of race in our country. From my limited engagement with his framework, three questions present themselves:
1) Under what circumstances does the harm principle serve as a boundary on the aspiration to tolerance? E.g., #BLM protestors may recognize that many of their fellow citizens do not share their belief that blacks are often treated unfairly and with unjustified violence by police, but that recognition is hardly a first step toward tolerance of that disbelief. (A similar point could be made regarding disagreement re abortion.)
2) To what extent is a mutual willingness to learn relevant facts a precondition to humility as a worthy aspiration? When certain beliefs are subject to empirical verification, does that create any sort of burden of inquiry before humility is relevant? Do I need to exercise humility toward my fellow citizen who contends that the Earth is flat?
3) Are there historical conditions under which "patience" is better viewed as a civic vice than as a civic virtue?
Thursday, July 7, 2016
In the painful shadow of the Philando Castile and Alton Sterling shootings, I offer an essay over at America on why Catholic universities should be deeply engaged in today's racial justice struggle. Here's an excerpt:
Today’s university jeopardizes its ability to speak to today’s protestors when it departs from its mission of forming the person. Rising student debt and questionable employment outcomes have caused many families to approach college through a strictly economic lens. In addition there is increasing concern that the identification and cultivation of particular virtues represents a kind of moral paternalism. As a result more aspirational educational goals are pushed to the margins. The hollowing out of the university mission makes it difficult to engage meaningfully with today’s campus protesters. After all, they are not demanding better job training; they are demanding a more inclusive community. This is a deeply moral demand.
The Catholic vision of education has always been about formation—a relational endeavor that is best undertaken in communities marked by dialogue, interpersonal modeling and opportunities for reflection and growth. Knowledge has more than instrumental value, and the student experience aims at moral growth, not just professional preparation. This foundational orientation does not make answers to deep and difficult questions about diversity and inclusion easy, but it means that the deep and difficult questions are not distractions from the educational mission; they are why the church operates universities in the first place.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
The current Chronicle Review includes an interesting article by Hillsdale prof D.G. Hart suggesting that the widespread support of Donald Trump among "evangelicals" reveals longstanding sloppiness in political scientists' reliance on "evangelicals" as a relevant category. He notes that the broad category ignores the extent to which local congregations are isolated from each other because of deep religious differences:
[I]f evangelical identity was so thin that it could not overcome realities that prevented Pentecostals from worshiping with Presbyterians, how useful was it to explain the way believers participated in electoral politics? Both a Baptist and a Methodist might vote for the same Republican presidential candidate, but was that the product of religion? Too much of the literature on evangelicals and politics said, 'Yes.'
Hart suggests moving away from evangelicalism as a category and looking instead to church membership, noting data showing that Protestants who attend church regularly are much less likely to vote for Trump than are people who self-identify as "born again." More broadly, he wonders whether scholars "should simply take religion less seriously" in explaining a person's ideas or actions. He cites Fintan O'Toole's work arguing that religion was not the chief factor alienating Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland.
There has been much hand-wringing over the breakdown of commitment to the core principles that have guided evangelicals' political engagement. Maybe that commitment was more illusory than we thought, and maybe the perception of guiding principles reflects a past convergence of motivations that had less to do with faith than previously assumed. In other words, maybe "evangelicals" look more like "Catholics?"
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Most readers of MoJ are aware, I trust, that law schools have encountered a bit of rough sledding over the past several years. The New York Times recently published (yet another) feature on law school troubles, this time focusing on Valparaiso. The story included -- along with some questionable assertions -- profiles of struggling law grads that warrant serious reflection.
One other aspect of the story that cannot go unexplored is the headline -- "An expensive law degree and no place to use it." The suggestion that law degrees are "expensive" relative to the earning power they bring is a different story that I'll leave for the economists to sort out, though I agree that law schools need to be -- and are being -- more cognizant of cost than they were in the past. I'm more interested in the charge that many law grads have "no place to use" their degrees.
If, as the article asserts, the market for new lawyers is "saturated" -- a proposition that is highly contingent on geography, even when it comes to traditional JD jobs -- we need to think about the assumptions we make as to who can best utilize a legal education and how. What value do we bring, and to whom? For Catholic law schools, this is not just a matter of responding to market pressure, but of living out our mission. As John Paul II reminded Catholic intellectuals (and as Cardinal George later reminded Catholic university professors):
You too are solidly involved in a prophetical task of forming sensitive consciences capable of saying no to death, to hatred, to violence, to terror, to error, to evil, to degradation, but saying yes to the good, to the beautiful, to truth, to justice, to responsibility, to life, to peace, to love. You must take on your responsibility consciously. Your contribution in this field is a conspicuous and precious one. The young who have contact with you . . . let all these be aided by you to enter sagely and rationally into a vision of life in human society which promotes the common good of all.
Or as John Paul II explained in Ex Corde Ecclesiae, the Catholic university “assists each of its members in achieving wholeness as human persons.”
This warrants a much larger conversation, but for purposes of a blog post, I'll emphasize three implications:
1) The mission of Catholic legal education, and the strength of the particular law school communities that can be formed by that mission, position Catholic law schools to prepare students to thrive in the relationships that will distinguish the lawyers who achieve professional success in an increasingly commodified and routinized market for legal services.
2) Catholic law schools that integrate the analytical rigor of common law training with insights from Catholic social teaching can equip students -- especially international students -- for positions of influence that require more nuance than a categorical embrace of unfettered capitalism or socialism; and
3) Access to justice should be a rallying cry that finds fertile ground among the stakeholders of Catholic law schools, drawing support for scholarships and post-graduate fellowships aimed at addressing the need for lawyers among the poor and middle class, especially in small towns and rural areas across the country. To the extent that the market for lawyers has been "saturated" in some areas of the country, that's because the business model does not function in a way that permits legal needs to be met. Catholic law schools should be part of the solution.
In an increasingly regulated world that cries out for creative problem solving, there should always be a "place to use" a law degree in a way that provides a livelihood and advances the common good, and Catholic law schools should be leading the way forward.
I have argued against anti-Sharia laws in the U.S., but I have steered clear of debates about Sharia as applied in Muslim-majority countries. In light of outrageous examples of how Sharia is interpreted and enforced in some areas of the world today, fears about Sharia are a leading source of anti-Muslim sentiment. To the extent that Muslims favor Sharia, it is taken as evidence of Islam’s incompatibility with the premises of the American political system. But what if today’s Sharia-based governments are themselves misguided interpretations of Muslim history – not just in terms of the law’s content, but in terms of the legal order underlying the law’s application?
Asifa Quraishi-Landes has published her lecture, Islamic Constitutionalism: Not Secular. Not Theocratic. Not Impossible. She traces the “separation of legal authority in pre-modern Muslim lands that has all but disappeared today” between “siyasa, created by the rulers, and fiqh, created by the fiqh scholars.” As Muslim-majority countries emerged from colonial rule, they maintained a centralized, monistic legal order:
This colonialist mutation of legal-political systems in Muslim-majority lands has, sadly and ironically, created theocratic-leaning Muslim governments. But it is not the integration of religion and state that has caused these new Islamic theocracies. Rather, it is the integration of religion with legal monism that has created this phenomenon. . . . [W]ith independence in the twentieth century, many Muslims organized themselves into social and political organizations (often called “Islamism”) to remedy the wound of the colonialist purging of sharia in Muslim lands. But these Islamists operated with a rather stunning amnesia. Rather than looking to Islamic history for alternative arrangements of legal and political authority, they instead took the nation-state structure inherited from their European colonizers for granted, and simply concentrated their efforts on making that central state “Islamic.” . . . .
Muslim history shows that theocracy is not the inevitable result of every religious government, and secularism is not the only way to solve religious differences. For religious Muslims, it bases the legitimacy of state action directly on sharia principles. For secularists, it requires state lawmaking to be justified on something other than religious pedigree. It does this by articulating a model of government in which religious laws (fiqh) are only one of a two-part sharia-as-rule-of-law system, the other being state lawmaking based on human determinations of the public good (maslaha). This bifurcated system of law provides a way for a Muslim government to formally recognize fiqh rules without imposing them on those who do not want it.
The whole paper is worth reading.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
I have always suspected that the movie "Wall-E" was a more accurate glimpse of the future than I care to admit -- how do we get our minds around a world in which technology has made systemic underemployment a permanent and growing reality? An experiment in Oakland is hoping to begin providing some answers from a public policy standpoint. For MoJ purposes, how does and should the Church engage this (apparent) social trajectory? The Church has taught the "value of work not only because it is always something that belongs to the person but also because of its nature as something necessary." (Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church para. 287) But how do we honor its necessity to human identity and meaning when it is no longer necessary to the economic functioning of society? Our political leaders are unlikely to provide much guidance in the near term -- bringing jobs back to the U.S. by negotiating "great deals" -- is not a long-term answer. In addition to the other grounds on which the Church has resisted certain technological innovations, should we also resist innovation that defies the commitment to work as a necessary expression of the human person's dignity? I think the answer to that is no (or we should have been protesting long before now), but here's the unavoidable question that follows: what is the role of work in an authentic anthropology of the human person when work is no longer economically necessary for a large portion of the population? If these questions have already been explored through the lens of Catholic intellectual tradition, I'd welcome pointers on where to find those conversations.