Christianity and Liberty


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Since the issue of religion and politics seems to crop up fairly often on OL (most recently on the Glenn Beck thread), I thought I would post this article that I wrote for the Acton Institute -- a Catholic libertarian outfit -- many years ago and see what kind of comments it elicits.

Christianity and Liberty

by George H. Smith

An atheist is rarely asked to write an essay on “religion’s positive role in society,” but it is fitting that this request came from the Acton Institute. Lord Acton (1834-1902) was a Catholic, a classical liberal, and a great historian who devoted his life to the history of liberty.

Acton always stressed this important truth: No one group or movement, religious or secular, deserves exclusive credit for the theory and evolution of free institutions. All historians should avoid the unpardonable sin of “making history into the proof of their theories.” Instead, the historian should try “to do the best he can for the other side, and to avoid pertinacity or emphasis on his own.”

Acton is one of my intellectual heroes, and I hope this essay does justice to his memory. Using some of Acton’s brilliant insights, I shall briefly discuss some of the important contributions that Christianity has made to the cause of liberty. Ironically, Acton’s Catholicism and my atheism give us something in common. In Protestant countries, Catholics and atheists were often lumped together and branded as subversive minorities whose doctrines, if permitted to circulate freely, would jeopardize the core values of a free society.

This “dark myth” was especially popular in seventeenth-century England, where it found adherents even among some of liberalism’s most distinguished founding fathers. John Locke, for example, argued that religious liberty is a “natural right” that should be enjoyed by everyone–except Catholics and atheists. The doctrines of these minorities, Locke believed, are incompatible with the moral foundations of a free society (though for different reasons), so they should be legally suppressed.

Acton attacked this dark myth in two ways. First, he identified minority rights as a defining characteristic of a free society: “The most certain test by which we judge whether a country is really free is the amount of security enjoyed by minorities.” Second, according to Acton, the history of liberty is inextricably linked to the history of minorities:

“At all times sincere friends of freedom have been rare, and its triumphs have been due to minorities, that have prevailed by associating themselves with auxiliaries whose objects often differed from their own.…”

This brings us to Christianity’s first major contribution to liberty. The early Christians, a despised and sometimes persecuted minority, fashioned a pro-freedom philosophy that (in Acton’s words) “was really subversive of the fundamental institutions of the Roman Empire.”

Early Christians–those “enemies of mankind,” as Tacitus called them – confronted a variety of allegations, including incest, cannibalism, atheism, and sedition. Christian apologists (from the Greek, meaning “speech for the defense”) successfully refuted these charges, and they repeatedly affirmed the loyalty of Christians to the state. But this was a troublesome issue because Christian obedience was always conditional.

The apologist Origen put the matter well. The Christian will “never consent to obey the laws of sin.” His first allegiance is to “the law of nature, that is, the law of God.” The Christian will submit to secular punishment rather than transgress a divine law.

Moreover, Origen believed that Christians should refuse military service. Rather than fight Rome’s battles, they should pray for victory. Even this is ambiguous, however. Christians should pray “on behalf of those who are fighting in a righteous cause, and for the king who reigns righteously.…” Whether Rome was always on the side of righteousness, Origen does not say.

Some radical apologists developed a “conquest theory” of the state in an effort to delegitimize the Roman Empire. Tertullian argued that “all secular power and dignities are not merely alien from, but hostile to, God.” Secular governments “owe their existences to the sword.” All institutions of the Roman government, even its charities, are based on brute force. This is contrary to the way of Christians, among whom “everything is voluntary.”

Similarly, Minucius Felix believed that the Romans had acquired power by “capturing, raping, and enslaving their victims.” John Chrysostom contrasted the use of force with the Christian community, where “the wrongdoer must be corrected not by force, but by persuasion.”

The apologists established important precedents that were cited frequently by later Christian thinkers. The Stoic doctrine of a “higher law” became a cornerstone of the Christian theory of justice and a formidable barrier to tyranny and the rise of the absolute state. The theory of a just war, as discussed by Origen, Tertullian, and other apologists, was also influential. For example, Hugo Grotius frequently cited the apologists in On the Law of War and Peace (1625), a seminal work on international law.

Another precedent was set by those apologists who argued for religious liberty (a“natural right,” as Tertullian called it). Sebastian Castellio, a contemporary critic of Calvin, collected these pro-toleration quotations in a book that became a landmark in the Protestant movement for religious liberty.

Christian critiques of the Roman Empire became less common after Constantine issued the Edict of Milan (313), which established religious liberty as a fundamental principle of public law. Before long, Constantine was bestowing special favors on the Christian Church. His Christian successors continued this policy until Theodosius revoked the Edict of Milan during his despotic reign (379-95). This emperor established orthodox Christianity as the official religion, outlawed pagan worship and rituals, and decreed severe penalties for heresy.

Thus did a church born in opposition to the state become its friend and ally. Lord Acton commented:

“Christianity, which in earlier times had addressed itself to the masses, and relied on the principle of liberty, now made its appeal to the rulers, and threw its mighty influence into the scale of authority.”

Even after the church abandoned the principle of liberty, it sometimes functioned as a protective buffer between the state and the people. “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s” – these words of Jesus suggested a sphere in which the church reigns supreme, a sphere immune to state power.

Ambrose, Bishop of Milan from 340-97, fiercely defended this principle. No friend of religious liberty, Ambrose nevertheless believed in the independence of the church: “Palaces belong to the emperors, churches to the priesthood.” He also believed that the church could call secular rulers to account. “Thou art a man,” said Ambrose to Theodosius after this despot had ordered a brutal massacre in Thessalonica. Threatened with excommunication, Theodosius submitted to Ambrose’s demand for public penance. As this astonishing story was recalled in later centuries, it did more to limit state power than volumes of theory.

The case of Ambrose illustrates a central theme in Acton’s history of liberty. For centuries after the fall of the western Roman Empire, the church was the only institution with the authority to challenge the power of feudal lords, monarchs, and emperors. Church and state contended for power, and if either had achieved total victory, “all Europe would have sunk down under a Byzantine or Muscovite despotism.”

According to Acton, neither church nor state favored liberty, but, while competing for allies, they granted various immunities and privileges to towns, parliaments, universities, guilds, and other corporations. Eventually these institutions were able to resist the power of both church and state – and so there evolved a decentralized system of power unknown to the ancient world and the East. Institutional barriers to arbitrary and absolute power, long advocated in theory, now existed in fact. Individual liberty was a happy by-product of this system.

The conflict between church and state also inspired theories with radical implications. For example, during the eleventh century, Pope Gregory VII challenged the power of Emperor Henry IV and other secular rulers during the “Investiture struggle.” In Dictatus Papae, Gregory decreed that the pope “may depose Emperors” and “may absolve subjects of unjust men from their fealty.”

This right of revolution was limited, because it applied only to secular rulers, not to the pope himself who (as Gregory put it) “may be judged by no one.” Nevertheless, the seed had been planted, and it began to grow immediately. Manegold of Lautenbach, while defending Gregory’s claim of papal supremacy, compares the secular ruler to a swineherd who has been employed for a specific purpose. If this swineherd exceeds his delegated authority, he should be dismissed “ignominiously from his task.”

The ruler, Manegold argues, has a compact with his subjects to “defend them from the tyranny and unrighteousness of others.” When rulers betray this trust, “no fidelity or reverence ought to be paid them.” Tyrants lose all their “authority and dignity” and should not be obeyed.

This type of social contract theory would bear fruit in later centuries. After the Reformation, both Catholics and Protestants developed their own theories of revolution. Around 1640, Sir Robert Filmer (who would later achieve fame as a target for John Locke) complained that the principles of absolute monarchy were under attack from two camps – radical Catholics and radical Protestants. As Filmer put it: “Monarchy hath been crucified, as it were, between two thieves. …”

Filmer’s complaint became a major theme for Thomas Hobbes, a champion of absolute monarchy, who devoted over half of Leviathan (1651) to attacking the traditional ideas and institutions of Christianity. Throughout history, as Hobbes correctly noted, this religion had stubbornly resisted the absolute state in theory and in practice. Churches and other institutions that stood between the individual and the state were like “worms in the entrails of a natural man.” Hobbes knew his enemy well.

In conclusion, I would like to reinforce a point I made earlier. Throughout history, the love of liberty has transcended religious controversies. This is good news indeed. If an atheist who values liberty meets a Christian who values liberty, this common ground gives them a reason to value each other.

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Great article, George. Something for me to think about. I'll be back with a more substantive response later if I can think of anything to add. I certainly can't see anything to criticize, but I may tie it back to the Beck discussion since that was part of the reason you reproduced this here.

Ian

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Your essay is insightful and scholarly, George, but you seem to frame the compatibility issue in terms of historical anti-statist precedent and downplay the issue of fundamental values. Religious institutions and leaders have often promoted concrete freedoms in the name of upholding their faith, but without breaking free from the mistaken, deeply imbedded values that ultimately serve to undermine the wider goal of freedom.

The values of individualism and productive work have been traditionally endorsed by some Judeo-Christian traditions, but nowhere have I seen a religious argument against altruism or the derivative view of social justice described by David Kelley (excerpted below). There are religious spokesmen who have taken such a view, but they have not argued from religious premises. The closest they have come is to argue for personal responsibility, but within a very delimited context of moral and cultural decay that leaves the underlying altruism intact. That’s why I see religion as fundamentally incompatible with capitalism, and religious values such as “faith, hope and charity” (often explicitly praised by Beck) as ultimately destructive to any long-term prospects for freedom.

I think Kelley’s analysis is superb:

Altruism and Capitalism by David Kelley

http://www.objectivistcenter.org/showcontent.aspx?ct=1&h=53

The capitalist system came of age in the century from 1750 to 1850 as a result of three revolutions. The first was a political revolution: the triumph of liberalism, particularly the doctrine of natural rights, and the view that government should be limited in its function to the protection of individual rights—including property rights. The second revolution was the birth of economic understanding, culminating in Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations. Smith demonstrated that when individuals are left free to pursue their own economic interests, the result is not chaos but a spontaneous order, a market system in which the actions of individuals are coordinated and more wealth is produced than would be the case if government managed the economy. The third revolution was of course the Industrial Revolution…

The political revolution, the triumph of the doctrine of individual rights, was accompanied by a spirit of moral idealism. It was the liberation of man from tyranny, the recognition that every individual, whatever his station in society, is an end in himself. But the economic revolution was couched in morally ambiguous terms: as an economic system, capitalism was widely regarded as having been conceived in sin. The desire for wealth fell under the shadow of the Christian injunction against selfishness and avarice. The early students of spontaneous order were conscious that they were asserting a moral paradox—the paradox, as Bernard Mandeville put it, that private vices could produce public benefits.

The critics of the market have always capitalized on these doubts about its morality. The socialist movement was sustained by allegations that capitalism breeds selfishness, exploitation, alienation, injustice. In milder forms, this same belief produced the welfare state, which redistributes income through government programs in the name of "social justice."...

There is no mystery about where the moral antipathy toward the market comes from. It arises from the ethics of altruism, which is deeply rooted in Western culture, as indeed in most cultures. By the standards of altruism, the pursuit of self-interest is at best a neutral act, outside the realm of morality, and at worst a sin....

…This principle of altruism is not compatible with the recognition of the individual as an end in himself…

…Demands for social justice take two different forms, which I will call welfarism and egalitarianism. According to welfarism, individuals have a right to certain necessities of life, including minimum levels of food, shelter, clothing, medical care, education, and so on… According to egalitarianism, the wealth produced by a society must be distributed fairly. ... The welfarist demands that people have access to a certain minimum standard of living. So welfarists are primarily interested in programs that benefit people who are below a certain level of poverty, or who are sick, out of work, or deprived in some other way. Egalitarians, on the other hand, are concerned with relative well-being. Thus egalitarians tend to favor government measures such as progressive taxation, which aim to redistribute wealth across the entire income scale, not merely at the bottom…

…Every form of social justice rests on the assumption that individual ability is a social asset... It says that the individual must regard himself, in part at least, as a means to the good of others.

Capitalism was the result of three revolutions, each of them a radical break with the past. The political revolution established the primacy of individual rights, and the principle that government is man's servant, not his master. The economic revolution brought an understanding of markets. The Industrial Revolution radically expanded the application of intelligence to the process of production. But mankind never broke with its ethical past. The ethical principle that individual ability is a social asset is incompatible with a free society. If freedom is to survive and flourish, we need a fourth revolution, a moral revolution, that establishes the moral right of the individual to live for himself…

My comment: That revolution will necessarily take place in opposition to religion, because it will be based on a view of man as independent and rational, not beholden to some mystical higher power.

[some day I will figure out how OL's link function works, but evidently not today...)

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[some day I will figure out how OL's link function works, but evidently not today...)

Use the icon closest to the smiley (to the right) above where you type a post.

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George, I would think that the emphasis on individual relationship with God and autonomy of individual choice that is typical of Protestant sects has been more conducive to individual liberty in legal systems than has been Catholicism. What do you think? The Protestants translated the Bible into native tongues and taught folk to read so as to cut out the middle man between the individual and God. It was a strain of Protestantism in Paine when he wrote: “But where says some is the King of America? I’ll tell you friend, he reigns above, and doth not make havoc of mankind like the Royal Brute of Britain. . . . As in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be King.”

Edited by Stephen Boydstun
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Hmmmm…The silence is deafening. Somewhere out there in cyberspace, George is shaking his head, muttering to himself as he reaches for another cold brew: “Oh my god! This can’t be the same Dennis Hardin who took my ‘Principles of Reasoning’ course back in the 70s. An ex-student of mine spouting such sophomoric Rand-parroting altruism-bashing clap-trap?! Where oh where did I go wrong?”

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Hmmmm…The silence is deafening. Somewhere out there in cyberspace, George is shaking his head, muttering to himself as he reaches for another cold brew: “Oh my god! This can’t be the same Dennis Hardin who took my ‘Principles of Reasoning’ course back in the 70s. An ex-student of mine spouting such sophomoric Rand-parroting altruism-bashing clap-trap?! Where oh where did I go wrong?”

Dennis,

I haven't replied to your post yet because this is a very complicated issue, and I'm not sure where to start.

Although I have dabbled in various areas of history throughout my career, one area I have especially focused on is the history of religious freedom. Religious freedom was the first great (classical) liberal cause, and it was its greatest victory. This was not merely a victory for secularists and freethinkers; many Christian philosophers played a key role in this development, and they presented powerful arguments, based on their understanding of Christianity, in its favor. And many of the arguments for freedom were later extended to other fields.

In 1991, I published a lengthy article, "Philosophies of Toleration," in Atheism, Ayn Rand, and Other Heresies, that discusses many of these ideas. I have since done a lot more work in this field. For example, a number of the 24 articles that I wrote for The Encyclopedia of Libertarianism deal with issues related to "liberty of conscience."

In addition, the first two chapters of a book I am currently working on, Where Our Freedom Came From and How We Lost It, are devoted to the ideological history of religious freedom. Perhaps the best place to start is by posting the first part of the first chapter, and then work from there with more comments later on.

This is an uncorrected rough draft, minus formatting and endnotes.

WHERE OUR FREEDOM CAME FROM AND HOW WE LOST IT

Uncorrected rough draft

By George H. Smith

Chapter One

I

During the mid-1550s, after Catholicism had been reestablished in England and while Queen Mary -- or “Bloody Mary,” as she came to be known -- was in the process of burning nearly 300 Protestants in three years, John Philpot, Archdeacon of Winchester, was accused of heresy and thrown in prison. There he had a chance to discuss the fine points of theology with other unfortunate Protestants, one of whom defended the old heresy known as “Arianism” -- a general label for any Christian who repudiated the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity. Philpot was so disgusted by this encounter with a real heretic that he finished off the conversation by spitting on his adversary.

Before Philpot was burned at the stake in 1555, he was able to vindicate his decision to spit on a fellow Protestant martyr. He wrote a tract with a long and lively title: An Apology of John Philpot; written for spitting upon an Arian: with an invective against Arians, the very natural children of Antichrist: with an admonition to all that be faithful in Christ, to beware of them, and of other late sprung heresies, as of the most enemies of the gospel.

Less than two years before the spitter Philpot was burned alive by Catholics, another Protestant, Michael Servetus, had suffered the same fate at the hands of fellow Protestants in Geneva. Servetus also denied the doctrine of the Trinity, and this, along with his repudiation of infant baptism (both were capital crimes), brought about the trial of Servetus on thirty-nine counts of heresy and blasphemy and his condemnation for attempting “to infect the world with stinking heretical poison.” It took thirty minutes for Servetus to die as he was roasted over a slow fire – a common punishment favored by Protestants and Catholics alike, because it gave the heretic a taste of the eternal agony he was about to experience in hell and, equally important, served as a warning to curious spectators and other potential dissenters.

The burning of Servetus became a cause célèbre among Protestants, for his execution had been engineered by John Calvin, the most influential Protestant of the time, and it was subsequently defended by other leading Protestants. But this acclaim was far from unanimous. Some Protestants with liberal tendencies vehemently condemned the execution of Servetus, thereby sparking a debate that became a watershed in the history of religious toleration.

Servetus became a poster boy in the struggle for religious toleration, but he was a problematic one by modern standards. As much as we might like to think that Servetus was a champion of religious freedom who was victimized by his intolerant adversaries, this was by no means the case. Although Servetus was considerably more tolerant than Calvin and many of their contemporaries, he was not himself a champion of religious freedom. On the contrary, he maintained that heretics who are “incorrigible and obdurate in their wrong” should be put to death, while more moderate punishments, such as banishment, should be imposed in less severe cases. During his trial in Geneva, Servetus insisted that his adversary John Calvin was the one who should suffer the ultimate penalty for heresy.

These stories about Philpot and Servetus illustrate a recurring problem in the broader story of religious freedom, namely, that the victims of intolerance were often intolerant themselves and would not have recognized the rights of those whom they regarded as the real heretics. Moreover, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries many illustrious Protestant defenders of toleration excluded atheists and Catholics from their arguments for freedom of conscience; and Catholic proponents of toleration typically made major exceptions as well, especially where atheists were concerned. Only among a handful of these early defenders of toleration, such as the English Levellers, Roger Williams (the founder of Rhode Island), and other libertarians do we find arguments for a comprehensive religious freedom that included believers and nonbelievers of every stripe.

It was because defenses of toleration were so frequently riddled with exceptions that the word itself acquired a bad reputation among some eighteenth-century proponents of religious freedom. For example, in 1785, the English minister and libertarian Richard Price discussed “liberty of conscience” – a term that had been used for around 250 years – but he distinguished between liberty of conscience and religious toleration. “In liberty of conscience,” wrote Price in Observations on the Importance of the American Revolution, “I include much more than toleration…. Not only all Christians but all men of all religions ought to be considered by a state as equally entitled to its protection as far as they demean themselves honestly and peaceably.” In a political context, to “tolerate” religious beliefs and practices is sheer presumption, because it implies that a government grants religious freedom to people as a privilege, favor, or for reasons of state. In contrast, Price insisted that liberty of conscience is a natural and inalienable right that governments have a duty to respect. It is a sphere over which governments have no legitimate jurisdiction, so it is not something they can choose to tolerate or not.

Similarly, during a session of the French Constituent Assembly (which passed the “Declaration of the Rights of Man” in 1789), Mirabeau declared that he would not “preach toleration” because it suggests an authority with the power to tolerate those beliefs which it deems acceptable, and this implies a power not to tolerate as well. Hence the very notion of toleration conveys “a suggestion of tyranny” because it is inconsistent with the sacred right of individuals to the “unlimited freedom of religion.”

A few years later, in Rights of Man, Thomas Paine also condemned the idea of toleration, calling it a “counterfeit form” of intolerance. “Both are despotisms. The one assumes to itself the right of withholding Liberty of Conscience, and the other of granting it.” Paine therefore praised the new French Constitution for abolishing toleration (and intolerance along with it) and establishing instead the “universal right of conscience.”

This contrast between toleration and the right to freedom of religion reflected a radically individualist development in political theory that may broadly be described as libertarian. Although elements of this approach, such as its emphasis on natural law, had affinities with traditional political ideas (some of which can be found in the philosophers of ancient Greece), an integrated libertarian theory did not begin to take shape until roughly the early 1600s. It arose largely in response to modern theories of absolutism, which stressed the absolute sovereignty of the state (as embodied in a monarch). Individualists, in contrast, argued that self-sovereignty -- as manifested in the natural and equal rights of individuals -- is the only legitimate basis for political power. From this foundation there arose various theories to explain how, through a process of consent, governments acquire legitimate political power.

The more radical of these social contract theories (as they are commonly known) were political dynamite, for they insisted that all rights, including those rights claimed by a government, are ultimately the rights of individuals. This approach struck at the heart of theories of absolute sovereignty by imposing severe limitations on what a government may legitimately do. If, for example, a government claimed the right to regulate the religious beliefs and practices of its people, it was necessary to show, first, how that right could be possessed by individuals in a society without government (or “state of nature”); and, second, how that right could have been voluntarily delegated to a government.

I shall discuss these fundamental ideas later in this book; I mention them now because their development was closely related to the struggle for religious freedom. This is not a judgment made with the wisdom of hindsight; it is something that leading theorists and historians of classical liberalism have emphasized for over two centuries. When, in 1866, John Stuart Mill characterized “liberty of conscience” as “the first of all the articles of the liberal creed,” he was echoing a belief that had been stated many times before. Even when James Madison, writing in 1792, described freedom of conscience as the most “sacred” of all rights, he was merely restating a tenet that originated long before he was born.

Liberty of conscience -- this expression, which appears to have originated in the early 1500s, is a dominant and recurring theme throughout the struggle for religious freedom. But it has implications that extend beyond the realm of religion. When Herbert Spencer and other nineteenth-century libertarians protested against schemes of government welfare, they argued that charity should be a matter of conscience, as determined by each individual, and that charity has moral worth only when it is given voluntarily. Similarly, when English Dissenters (i.e., Baptists, Congregationalists and other Protestants who did not belong to the Anglican Church) waged a vigorous campaign against schemes for state education, they insisted that education, whether religious or secular, is a matter of conscience and therefore not a legitimate function of government. Arguments for freedom of speech and press -- and even for free trade, which entails the right to dispose of one’s property as one sees fit -- were frequently based on the same moral premise.

This is why an understanding of the history of religious freedom is essential to understanding the history of freedom in other spheres. It was during the struggle for religious freedom that “liberty of conscience” was transformed from a vague battle cry into a sophisticated political theory based on natural rights. The sphere of conscience became the realm of human action where private judgment should reign supreme, a sphere where coercion, whether exercised by government or individuals, is morally improper. And as this sphere was progressively extended beyond religious beliefs and practices to more secular concerns, the proper role of government receded from the many “positive” functions it had exercised in previous centuries to the “negative” function of protecting individual rights.

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Your essay is insightful and scholarly, George, but you seem to frame the compatibility issue in terms of historical anti-statist precedent and downplay the issue of fundamental values. Religious institutions and leaders have often promoted concrete freedoms in the name of upholding their faith, but without breaking free from the mistaken, deeply imbedded values that ultimately serve to undermine the wider goal of freedom.

The values of individualism and productive work have been traditionally endorsed by some Judeo-Christian traditions, but nowhere have I seen a religious argument against altruism or the derivative view of social justice described by David Kelley (excerpted below). There are religious spokesmen who have taken such a view, but they have not argued from religious premises. The closest they have come is to argue for personal responsibility, but within a very delimited context of moral and cultural decay that leaves the underlying altruism intact. That’s why I see religion as fundamentally incompatible with capitalism, and religious values such as “faith, hope and charity” (often explicitly praised by Beck) as ultimately destructive to any long-term prospects for freedom.

The first problem I have is with your statement, "nowhere have I seen a religious argument against altruism or the derivative view of social justice described by David Kelley (excerpted below)."

I will comment on Kelley's remarks at a later time; for now, I am puzzled by what you mean by a "religious argument against altruism."

Historically considered, "Christianity" is a broad label that encompasses many different philosophical traditions and perspectives. But it has at its core a very egoistic view of personal salvation. The Christian is concerned, first and foremost, with attaining eternal happiness for himself. And though Christianity has always preached "charity" as one of its virtues, this is not really "altruism" in the Comtean (or Randian) sense.

There are of course altruistic strains in some Christian thought (e.g., in Augustine's theory of "righteous persecution"), but there are other important strains as well. By the high middle ages, many Christian theologians agreed with Thomas Aquinas that self-preservation is a fundamental precept of natural law. For example, while defending the right of self-defense, Aquinas argues that "one is bound to take more care of one's own life than another's."

Since the word "altruism" was not coined until the 19th century, we don't find early discussions of the term. But the following comment, made in 1953 by the Catholic theologian Fr. Austin Fagothey (Right and Reason, 2nd ed., p. 74)is fairly typical of the Thomistic approach:

"[T]here is something incoherent in the altruistic ideal. If bettering others is our last end, what is the end of men who are bettered? If we exist for the sake of other men, then what are the other men for? If everybody exists for the sake of everybody else, then, when the process is brought round full circle, there is really no last end for the whole of humanity."

Of course, you could say that the above are not specifically "religious" objections against altruism, but for Catholic theologians the "natural law" was simply the "eternal law" of God applied to human beings.

There is a lot more involved here, but I'm going to take this a little bit at a time.

Ghs

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Dennis,

The background in the following passage from Why Atheism? is essential to something that I need to need to discuss later in response to your points. I apologize for posting so much from things I have already written, but I don't see the point of attempting to write these things over again.

Why Atheism? Chapter 13, "Matters of Life and Death."

Some Christians, such as the thirteenth century philosopher Thomas Aquinas, have said, in essence, that God necessarily wills what is good and that, given the nature of his creation, even God’s omnipotence cannot transform what is good into something evil, or vice versa. According to this approach, which is often called “natural-law theology,” an omnipotent God could have created an alternative universe with characteristics radically different from the one in which we now live. And if this had happened, then the moral laws governing our actions might also be radically different. But given the present world as God created it, good and evil flow necessarily from the nature of things, and even God cannot invert this relationship between the true and the good.

Why is this so? Because God, according to the natural-law theologians, cannot will a contradiction. He cannot, for example, violate a law of logic by willing A to be non-A at the same time and in the same respect. Similarly, God cannot will a moral contradiction, nor can he contradict himself. By creating a world in which murder is wrong, he has created an inexorable relationship between the nature of human beings and this moral prohibition. Therefore, to imagine that God can arbitrarily declare murder to be right, contrary to the nature of his own creation, would be to imagine, in effect, that God can contradict himself, which he cannot.

This natural-law explanation did not satisfy many theologians, such as the fourteenth-century philosopher William of Occam and, later, the leaders of the Protestant Reformation (most notably Luther and Calvin). The natural- law approach of Thomas Aquinas, according to these Christians, is mistaken, because it tries to impose human limits on the omnipotent power of God. “Omnipotence” means precisely just what it says: God is all-powerful; he can do literally anything he wishes. Murder is wrong because God has so willed. Thus, if God were suddenly to declare that murder is right and obligatory, then we would be required to obey him in this case, as in every other, by committing murder. Because this view attributes moral good and evil solely to God’s will, to his volition rather than to his reason, it is commonly known as “voluntarism.”

These two approaches, natural law and voluntarism, comprise the two basic answers to our previous question, “Is something right because God wills it, or does God will it because it is right?” The voluntarists contend that something is right because God wills it, whereas natural law theologians say that God wills something because it is right -- that good and evil flow necessarily from the nature of things, as God created them.

Let us now consider the implications of these approaches for an atheistic ethics, an ethics without God. Is a rational ethics possible without God? Can we justify a code of ethics by appealing to reason alone, without recourse to faith and revelation?

If the voluntarist is right, if good and evil depend solely upon God’s will, then an atheistic ethics is clearly impossible. In the voluntarist scheme of things, everything would be permissible in a godless universe. There would be no objective right and wrong, no justice and injustice, no virtue in compassion and charity, no evil in cruelty and murder.

But this does not follow from the natural-law approach, which grounds its moral principles in the nature of human beings and social interaction. Consider how this approach is compatible with an atheistic ethics. “Granted,” the atheist will say to the natural law Christian, “we disagree about whether our world was created, but we do agree that our world is here, that it exists, whatever its origin may have been. We agree that human beings have a specific nature, that they require certain things to survive, to prosper, and to be happy. We agree that humans have the power of choice, that we have no automatic means of survival and no instincts that will lead us infallibility to happiness, that we must learn which actions are good for us and which are bad. We agree that humans, as purposeful and volitional beings, require a code of values, a system of normative principles, to guide our choices and actions. Therefore, we can also agree that moral principles are absolutely necessary for a good life.” This is the foundation for a rational theory of ethics, one that is acceptable to both the atheist and to the natural law Christian.

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George,

First of all I want to say how delighted I am that you’re working on a new book. Needless to say, I will look forward to reading it. And the excerpt you posted here is truly fascinating.

This is why an understanding of the history of religious freedom is essential to understanding the history of freedom in other spheres. It was during the struggle for religious freedom that “liberty of conscience” was transformed from a vague battle cry into a sophisticated political theory based on natural rights...

This is clearly a crucially important chapter in the historical struggle for liberty, a chapter about which I was largely ignorant. You also write:

...If, for example, a government claimed the right to regulate the religious beliefs and practices of its people, it was necessary to show, first, how that right could be possessed by individuals in a society without government (or “state of nature”); and, second, how that right could have been voluntarily delegated to a government...

You also refer to related theories of “natural law” originating in ancient Greece (which you probably clarify elsewhere). Isn’t it the “state of nature”--i.e., human nature--that we ultimately need to be concerned about here, and isn’t that likely to lead to some philosophical trouble from a religious (or emotion-based) perspective? Despite the citation of “natural law,” notions of “liberty of conscience” appear to have emerged more or less pragmatically in response to egregious acts such as those involving Philpot and Servetus. Sort of like legal protections which arose in response to flagrant transgressions—e.g., child abuse laws which place limits on parental authority.

Such more or less pragmatic measures work up to the point where the perpetrator of brute force—the parent in this case--cites religious authority or God’s authority. “My child will burn in Hell if he is not severely punished.” Perhaps the parent takes the view that we are all somehow the property of God, and fundamentally beholden to His will. You refer to Mirabeau’s view of the ‘sacred right’ to the ‘unlimited freedom of religion.’ But any proponent of religion could arbitrarily propose a radically different view of sacred rights (such as the right to kill infidels).

At that point, it is one arbitrary view of human nature duking it out with another, equally arbitrary view.

Without a foundation in a rational view of human nature, such “social contract” restrictions on the state are unlikely to ultimately prevail. In other words, religion’s role in the progress of liberty was clearly very important, but—at a certain point—“liberty of conscience” required translation into a fully developed rational philosophy. So far, that hasn’t happened. At least not in popular culture or the conventional mind (e.g., Glenn Beck).

Ideas of liberty that historically evolved from religious sources are now being undermined by those same sources, as science takes over more and more of the territory that was once religion’s domain. That is one key factor promoting the erosion of liberty in the world of today. Freedom is in peril because it lacks a foundation in science.

I want to thank you for such a thoughtful response to my post. I will do my best to respond in kind, but, due to limitations of time, I would not be surprised to find a flaw or two in my argument. Alas, this will have to do for the moment—and all I have addressed is your first response. Unfortunately, for me, the real world often gets in the way of the virtual one. More to come. Soon, I hope.

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George,

First of all I want to say how delighted I am that you’re working on a new book. Needless to say, I will look forward to reading it. And the excerpt you posted here is truly fascinating.

Thanks. My latest book, Themes in the History of Classical Liberalism, will be published sooner or later by Cambridge University Press. I say "sooner or later" because I'm still working on some revisions. Although the book was accepted as written, I wasn't happy with parts of it -- some of it was written many years ago, and, given my lack of academic credentials, I never expected a publisher with the academic prestige of C.U.P. to pick it up -- so I undertook some fairly major rewrites. In retrospect, this decision might have been a mistake, because when you start tinkering with with some parts of a complex manuscript, this necessitates changes in other parts of the manuscript, and this ripple effect seems unending at times.

In any case, I truly detest the final stages of preparing a manuscript for publication. It is tedious and frustrating. After I have worked out the ideas in my mind, I typically lose interest in a project and want to move on to something new. This may explain why I have accumulated so much unpublished material over the years -- far more than I have ever published.

I will respond to some of the points you raised in another post. For now, I want to make a general observation about the matter we have been discussing.

It is important to distinguish between what we would regard as a rationally justified case for freedom and what I call "contextually persuasive" arguments for freedom. As atheists, we obviously do not regard as valid arguments for freedom that are based on a belief in Christianity. But there have been arguments that are quite persuasive in that context -- persuasive, that is, for Christians.

I would even go so far as to say that some Christian arguments for natural rights are "stronger" than what can be provided within an atheistic framework. For example, we tend to justify rights first and then conclude that other people have a duty (i.e., an enforceable moral obligation) to respect those rights. But some Christian defenders of rights took a different approach. They argued that we were created by God for a purpose, so we have an obligation to God to preserve our lives and to use our reason (the primary faculty that made us "in God's image") to live a good life. From this it follows that other people have a duty not to harm or destroy God's property, in effect, and from this it follows that we have rights vis-à-vis other people.

Of course, this line of thinking, which is found in Locke and other Christian rights theorists, has its own problems. It explains, for instance, why suicide has always been prohibited in Christian moral and political theory. This was seen as a sin against God, as a violation of his property rights in us, so to speak, so the right of self-ownership is not absolute in relation to God. On the other hand, this foundation for the right of self-ownership in regard to other people was very persuasive in a Christian context. After all, a Christian doesn't want to fuck with God's property. 8-)

Ghs

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I will comment on Kelley's remarks at a later time; for now, I am puzzled by what you mean by a "religious argument against altruism."

Historically considered, "Christianity" is a broad label that encompasses many different philosophical traditions and perspectives. But it has at its core a very egoistic view of personal salvation. The Christian is concerned, first and foremost, with attaining eternal happiness for himself. And though Christianity has always preached "charity" as one of its virtues, this is not really "altruism" in the Comtean (or Randian) sense.

There are of course altruistic strains in some Christian thought (e.g., in Augustine's theory of "righteous persecution"), but there are other important strains as well. By the high middle ages, many Christian theologians agreed with Thomas Aquinas that self-preservation is a fundamental precept of natural law. For example, while defending the right of self-defense, Aquinas argues that "one is bound to take more care of one's own life than another's."

Since the word "altruism" was not coined until the 19th century, we don't find early discussions of the term.

Ghs

George,

An important part of your second response seems to be that Christianity cannot be deemed as supportive of the concept of altruism, and you cite the powerful influences of Thomism and a modern theologian who explicitly denies the practicality of living for the sake of others. The quotation from Austin Fagothey is clearly an argument from a Christian in opposition to altruism, so I stand corrected. But while it is certainly true that Christianity embraces a number of divergent schools of thought, it strikes me that you are overlooking the issue of the essence of the Christian tradition. Let me quote one of my favorite thinkers, George H. Smith:

“…Some contemporary theologians…have attempted to reverse the otherworldly trend of Christianity to a concern for earthly well-being and happiness. From a historical perspective, however, this concern occupies only a fraction of Christianity’s history. A theologian, if he wishes, can preach a philosophy of life without reference to sin, salvation, obedience and the supernatural, but such a philosophy has nothing to do with the Bible and Christian theism.

“Moreover, to the extent that modern theologians endorse pro-life attitudes, they are merely riding the current of public change. No one is foolish enough to claim, for example, that Christianity has been a primary force in effecting a more open and benevolent attitude toward sex in American society; on the contrary, Christianity has constituted the major obstacle in this area. Most Christian theologians who pass themselves off as radical reformers are decades, if not centuries, behind non-Christian writers; they are little more than politicians of the spirit who cater to public opinion.

“When the Christian ‘reformer’ comes forward to declare that sex is not evil and that sex outside of marriage, may, after all, be permissible—and when he calls on Christian churches to spearhead his new movement—one must wonder if it ever occurs to him that he is nineteen centuries too late. If such theologians were truly concerned with man’s happiness on earth, they would begin by repudiating, totally and unequivocally, Christianity itself.”

Atheism: The Case Against God, Prometheus Books, 1979, p. 309

Man, oh, man! Was that dude right on or what?

As I see it, the essence of Christianity can be summed in two quotes from scripture:

John 3:16—“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

John 15: 13—“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his fellow man.”

Jesus took the words right out of Comte’s mouth.

Here is another frequently cited quote from Christianity’s foremost spokesman, Jesus: “…But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if anyone would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go with him one mile, go with him two miles.” (Matthew 5:39-41)

Addressing Christ's words, the author of ACAG (that would be you again) says: “My first response to these precepts is: Why? For what possible reason should one offer oneself as a sacrificial animal in this way?” (p. 325)

And on page 308, by the way, you specifically cite self-sacrifice as a “primary Christian virtue.”

The Thomist tradition is certainly the most rational influence on Christian thought. (I still have the book by Bittle than I bought from you back in the 70s.) But despite everything Aquinas has to say about the importance of the intellect and actualizing one’s potential, he downplays this world and frames our ultimate purpose in terms of seeking the Divine Essence. He does not connect living rationally and the pursuit of happiness in this life any more than the “selfish” seeker of personal salvation, In any case, most Christians would not even be able to tell you who Aquinas was. Paraphrasing you: No one is foolish enough to claim that Christianity has been a primary force in effecting an ethics of rational egoism in American society; on the contrary, Christianity has constituted the major obstacle in this area.

I would even go so far as to say that some Christian arguments for natural rights are "stronger" than what can be provided within an atheistic framework. For example, we tend to justify rights first and then conclude that other people have a duty (i.e., an enforceable moral obligation) to respect those rights. But some Christian defenders of rights took a different approach. They argued that we were created by God for a purpose, so we have an obligation to God to preserve our lives and to use our reason (the primary faculty that made us "in God's image") to live a good life. From this it follows that other people have a duty not to harm or destroy God's property, in effect, and from this it follows that we have rights vis-à-vis other people.

This last point is, frankly, a little discouraging to me, because it seems to concede the other side’s position on the fundamental philosophical battle we are waging today. It is the exact same argument made by Dennis Prager, a popular radio talk show host whom I listen to frequently. He is steadfast in his defense of the Ten Commandments as the only value-system which has any hope of sustaining America as we know it. Why? Because unlike other codes of ethics, it is objective, i.e., it comes directly from God. Any value system which mankind originates is necessarily subjective, because it is simply based on the subjective values of the person who devised it. In other words, developing a code of values logically based on reason and reality is inherently weaker than an appeal to God. And he then echoes your statement that, for the same reason, God is also the best way (he would say the only way) to defend the idea of individual rights. (He has read Ayn Rand, by the way, and deems her arguments as similarly subjective.) Of course, he ignores the fact that his God-based approach was also originated by mankind, and crumbles as soon as you take note of the obvious fact that there is no such thing.

A God-based argument cannot possibly be stronger when it is based on a myth. I am in awe of Ayn Rand for her brilliance in naming her philosophy Objectivism, because everything hinges on grasping the relationship between consciousness and existence. Any other philosophical foundation is as weak and flimsy as a house of cards.

In any case, I truly detest the final stages of preparing a manuscript for publication. It is tedious and frustrating. After I have worked out the ideas in my mind, I typically lose interest in a project and want to move on to something new. This may explain why I have accumulated so much unpublished material over the years -- far more than I have ever published.

Could you kindly do future generations a huge favor and try to annotate all that stuff? And then appoint a legal heir a la Peikoff. Forty or fifty years from now, when you finally discover if your case against Him was accurate, the world is going to want to read it.

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George,

An important part of your second response seems to be that Christianity cannot be deemed as supportive of the concept of altruism, and you cite the powerful influences of Thomism and a modern theologian who explicitly denies the practicality of living for the sake of others. The quotation from Austin Fagothey is clearly an argument from a Christian in opposition to altruism, so I stand corrected. But while it is certainly true that Christianity embraces a number of divergent schools of thought, it strikes me that you are overlooking the issue of the essence of the Christian tradition. Let me quote one of my favorite thinkers, George H. Smith:

“…Some contemporary theologians…have attempted to reverse the otherworldly trend of Christianity to a concern for earthly well-being and happiness. From a historical perspective, however, this concern occupies only a fraction of Christianity’s history. A theologian, if he wishes, can preach a philosophy of life without reference to sin, salvation, obedience and the supernatural, but such a philosophy has nothing to do with the Bible and Christian theism.

“Moreover, to the extent that modern theologians endorse pro-life attitudes, they are merely riding the current of public change. No one is foolish enough to claim, for example, that Christianity has been a primary force in effecting a more open and benevolent attitude toward sex in American society; on the contrary, Christianity has constituted the major obstacle in this area. Most Christian theologians who pass themselves off as radical reformers are decades, if not centuries, behind non-Christian writers; they are little more than politicians of the spirit who cater to public opinion.

“When the Christian ‘reformer’ comes forward to declare that sex is not evil and that sex outside of marriage, may, after all, be permissible—and when he calls on Christian churches to spearhead his new movement—one must wonder if it ever occurs to him that he is nineteen centuries too late. If such theologians were truly concerned with man’s happiness on earth, they would begin by repudiating, totally and unequivocally, Christianity itself.”

Atheism: The Case Against God, Prometheus Books, 1979, p. 309

Man, oh, man! Was that dude right on or what?

Smith is one of my favorite thinkers as well, but as his close friend Roy Childs once said to Smith while he was writing ATCAG, "George, you're great in philosophy, but you're tabula rasa in history."

Although this was something of an exaggeration, Smith took the suggestion to heart, put philosophy aside, and devoted the next 20 years to the study of history (especially the history of ideas) before returning to his first love, philosophy, around 1993. Rumor has it that Smith, who does almost everything obsessively, learned a lot during those 20 years.

Although I still agree with Smith about the uniformly deleterious effect of Christianity on sexual matters, I suspect he would significantly change some other historical generalizations, were he writing the book today. But it should be kept in mind that Smith, for the most part, does not discuss the political influence of Christianity, and in some respects his views on that issue have not changed very much.

There is a story about ATCAG that I happen to know is true. Around 1997, Smith got a call from the philosopher Paul Kurtz at Prometheus Books. Since ATCAG had sold very well for Prometheus, Kurtz asked Smith if he would be interested in writing a revised edition. Smith replied that if he were to attempt this, he would probably end up writing an altogether different book in some respects, so it was better to let the original stand as is, "warts and all." Smith also pointed out that the original, largely written when he was 23, has the virtue of youthful enthusiasm, and he feared much of that spirit would be lost in a rewrite.

Ghs

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As I see it, the essence of Christianity can be summed in two quotes from scripture:

John 3:16—“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

John 15: 13—“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his fellow man.”

Jesus took the words right out of Comte’s mouth.

Here is another frequently cited quote from Christianity’s foremost spokesman, Jesus: “…But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if anyone would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go with him one mile, go with him two miles.” (Matthew 5:39-41)

Addressing Christ's words, the author of ACAG (that would be you again) says: “My first response to these precepts is: Why? For what possible reason should one offer oneself as a sacrificial animal in this way?” (p. 325)

There are two basic points to be made here.

First, although many of the key moral precepts of Jesus are diametrically opposed to my own, nowhere does Jesus mandate that coercion should be used to enforce his views. This was a very important feature -- and a hotly contested one -- in the history of political thought.

Second, even those Christian theologians who claimed to take the Bible literally had little problem adjusting the teachings of Jesus when they proved inconvenient. For example, the "turn the other cheek" passage was frequently cited by Christian pacifists, but pacifism was not favorably viewed by the later Church, so legions of theologians explained why Jesus did not really mean what he appeared to say.

As I noted in ATCAG, the teachings of Jesus, especially his parables, are so vague as to admit of a variety of interpretations. Rather than take the time to explain the historical implications of this problem in detail, and at the risk of posting too much material from a work in progress, I will once again quote a lengthy passage from Chapter One of Where Our Freedom Came From and How We Lost it, a book I am currently writing. I apologize for this length of this excerpt, but it makes a number of points that are germane to this discussion.

From Chapter One of Where Our Freedom Came From and How We Lost It, by George H. Smith. . Uncorrected rough draft, minus formatting and endnotes.

In the 1770s, the Scottish jurist, historian, and philosopher Lord Kames pointed to a seeming paradox: “The Christian religion,” he wrote, “is eminent for a spirit of meekness, toleration, and brotherly love; and yet persecution never raged so furiously in any other religion.” Kames called this conflict between Christian principle and practice “a singular phenomenon in the history of man,” and he tried to explain how it came about.

Kames was not the first Christian historian to call attention to this problem, nor was he the last. In 1865, the liberal historian W.E.H. Lecky put it this way: “When it is remembered that the Founder of Christianity summed up human duties in the two precepts of love to God and love to man…the history of persecution in the Christian Church appears as startling as it is painful.”

To portray the founder of the Christian religion as an exemplar of love and compassion was a common tactic among proponents of religious toleration, who argued that the life and teachings of Jesus were inconsistent with the persecuting spirit that had permeated so much of Christian history. John Locke was far from the first proponent of toleration who appealed to Jesus as a paradigm that Christians should emulate. In A Letter Concerning Toleration (1689), Locke maintained that Jesus and his apostles were armed not with swords and other “instruments of force,” but with “the Gospel of peace.” If Jesus had wished to convert people by force, he could have easily raised “armies of heavenly legions” that were far more powerful than all the dragoons of earthly governments, but this was not his method, which was persuasion, not coercion. According to Locke, the “toleration of those that differ from others in matters of religion” is so agreeable both “to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to the genuine reason of mankind” that it requires a peculiar type of intellectual blindness not to recognize these obvious facts.

The opponents of toleration were not likely to be convinced by Locke’s arguments; they had heard them many times before, and they needed only consult the armory of arguments for persecution in the writings of St. Augustine (354-430) to rebut them.

When Augustine (the first Christian theologian to develop a systematic defense of persecution) was challenged by critics to name even one incident where Jesus had used coercion instead of persuasion, he pulled an ace out of his sleeve. This was the famous story (Acts 9:1-18) of Paul’s journey on the road to Damascus. While on his way to persecute Christians, Paul (then known as Saul) fell to the ground as he heard the voice of Jesus and was blinded by a bright light. This conversion of Paul, according to Augustine, clearly involved compulsion, for Christ “used his power to knock Paul down” and also “struck him with physical blindness” (a disability that lasted three days). Thus did Paul come “to the gospel under the compulsion of a physical punishment,” and thus was the tolerationist argument that Christ never used physical force decisively refuted -- at least in the minds of Augustine and many later Christians who repeated his argument. For example, in the thirteenth century Thomas Aquinas followed Augustine’s lead when he argued that “Christ at first compelled Paul and afterwards taught him.”

This brings us to a fundamental point about the historical debates over persecution versus toleration. From the founding of Christianity until roughly the late seventeenth century, such debates revolved, first and foremost, around the Bible. This is not to deny that philosophical and pragmatic arguments also played a role; on the contrary, they sometimes played an important role, but the defender of either side was ultimately obligated to show that his position harmonized with biblical teachings.

The importance of biblical arguments may be seen in John Milton’s defense of toleration, A Treatise of Civil Power in Ecclesiastical Causes (1659), where he notes at the outset: “What I argue shall be drawn from the scripture only; and therein from true fundamental principles of the gospel, to all knowing Christians undeniable.” Likewise, when Roger Williams published his remarkable manifesto calling for the separation of church and state (The Bloody Tenet of Persecution 1644), it was so laden with detailed analyses of biblical texts that modern readers are apt to find much of it very difficult to follow.

Among the many biblical passages cited by all sides in the controversy over religious toleration, two stood out above all others. Each side had a favorite proof passage, a parable attributed to Jesus, that it cited more frequently than any other biblical text. For defenders of persecution it was the Parable of the Feast (Luke 14:15-25), whereas for defenders of toleration it was the Parable of the Tares (Matthew 13: 24-30).

In the Parable of the Feast, Jesus tells of a man who invited many guests to a great supper and sent his servants to tell them that the feast was ready. But some of these invitees gave excuses explaining why they could not attend; and when a servant related these to the host, saying “Master, it is done as you commanded, and still there is room,” he replied: “Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled.”

“Compel them to come in” – few statements of this brevity have had a more disastrous effect on the history of western civilization. Whatever Jesus may have meant by this parable, it became the definitive text – one cited endlessly by the proponents of persecution – to prove that Jesus (and therefore God) had sanctioned, indeed commanded, the use of coercion against heretics and others who would not voluntarily embrace Christian orthodoxy, whether Catholic or Protestant.

The Parable of the Feast began its career as the pillar passage for persecution during the early fifth century, when it was invoked repeatedly by Augustine. So enduring was the significance of this text that when Pierre Bayle wrote his critique of persecution during the 1680s, he called it A Philosophical Commentary on These Words of the Gospel, Luke 14: 23, “Compel Them to Come In, That my House May Be Full.” Much of this lengthy book, which runs nearly 600 pages in the English translation, is devoted to rebutting the claim that the Parable of the Feast, properly understood, is a justification for religious persecution.

On the other side of the scale stood the Parable of the Tares, which was the key passage for defenders of toleration. In this parable Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a man who sowed good seed in his field, but whose enemies planted tares (i.e., weeds) among the wheat. When the crop sprouted and servants came to the owner to ask whether they should remove the tares, he replied: “No, lest while you gather up the tares you also uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest….”

As interpreted by defenders of toleration, the Parable of the Tares taught that it is the business of God, not man, to deal with those who reject the Christian faith, and that human authorities will do more harm than good if they use coercion to punish heretics, dissenters, and unbelievers. But the defenders of persecution were not persuaded; they had no difficulty interpreting this parable so that it conformed to their own predispositions. According to the church father John Chrysostom, for example, in the parable of the tares Jesus merely forbids the killing of heretics; he does not forbid us “to restrain heretics, to stop their mouths, to take away their freedom of speech, to break up their assemblies and societies.”

As Augustine explained the Parable of Tares, it simply cautions against uprooting weeds when this might result in damaging the wheat as well, but this is not a problem when the weeds can be easily identified and separated without causing damage to the wheat. Hence when heretics can easily be recognized -- and Augustine had no problem spotting them -- Christian authorities should not hesitate to use coercion against them. Augustine’s rather tortured interpretation of the Parable of the Tares became standard fare among later defenders of persecution, especially after Thomas Aquinas adopted it eight centuries later. Although there were some dissenting voices in the Catholic Church, the combined authority of Augustine and Aquinas proved overwhelming until after the Protestant Reformation.

Because of its religious significance the Bible seemed to provide a common framework wherein Christians could settle disputes about God’s will in matters relating to the respective roles of coercion and persuasion, but the ideal rarely conformed to practice. In the debates over toleration there was no passage cited by one side that could not be explained away or interpreted differently by the other side. We have already seen this with the Parable of the Tares, and we find another instance -- again, one hatched from the fertile mind of Augustine -- in John 6: 66-7, which tells how many followers left Jesus “and walked with Him no more.” In response, Jesus asked the twelve disciples who remained, “Do you also want to go away?” – and this implies that Jesus regarded acceptance of his teachings as a purely voluntary matter. Or so it seemed to the defenders of toleration.

Augustine responded to this biblical argument with a typical tactic. He argued that this and similar examples, including those instances where early Christians spurned the Roman state and refused to call upon it to aid their cause, must be understood in a broader context. The context in this case consisted of Old Testaments prophecies -- most notably Psalms 72:11, according to which “all nations” will one day serve God. This day had obviously not arrived while Christians were a despised and powerless minority in the Roman Empire, and this is why Jesus “recommended humility” during the time when “the church was just beginning to sprout from a recent seed.” But things changed – the prophecy began to be fulfilled -- when the emperor Constantine and his successors Christianized the Roman Empire, so it was now fitting for Christians to use coercion as the Catholic Church continued on its path to convert the entire world. As Augustine put it: “Certainly the more nearly this [prophecy] is fulfilled, the greater the power at the church’s disposal. Consequently, she can not only invite others to embrace what is good, but also compel them.”

In the event this interpretation might appear strained, Augustine immediately fortified it by recalling the words of Jesus, “Compel them to come in, until my house is full.” This “indicated the point quite clearly”; even if heretics and schismatics were “walking quietly outside the banquet of the holy unity of the church” (i.e., even if these dissenters were bothering no one), the church should still “compel them to come in.” For many centuries to come, all roads in the biblical arguments for persecution would eventually lead to these few fateful words.

Ghs

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I would even go so far as to say that some Christian arguments for natural rights are "stronger" than what can be provided within an atheistic framework. For example, we tend to justify rights first and then conclude that other people have a duty (i.e., an enforceable moral obligation) to respect those rights. But some Christian defenders of rights took a different approach. They argued that we were created by God for a purpose, so we have an obligation to God to preserve our lives and to use our reason (the primary faculty that made us "in God's image") to live a good life. From this it follows that other people have a duty not to harm or destroy God's property, in effect, and from this it follows that we have rights vis-à-vis other people.

This last point is, frankly, a little discouraging to me, because it seems to concede the other side’s position on the fundamental philosophical battle we are waging today. It is the exact same argument made by Dennis Prager, a popular radio talk show host whom I listen to frequently. He is steadfast in his defense of the Ten Commandments as the only value-system which has any hope of sustaining America as we know it. Why? Because unlike other codes of ethics, it is objective, i.e., it comes directly from God. Any value system which mankind originates is necessarily subjective, because it is simply based on the subjective values of the person who devised it. In other words, developing a code of values logically based on reason and reality is inherently weaker than an appeal to God. And he then echoes your statement that, for the same reason, God is also the best way (he would say the only way) to defend the idea of individual rights. (He has read Ayn Rand, by the way, and deems her arguments as similarly subjective.) Of course, he ignores the fact that his God-based approach was also originated by mankind, and crumbles as soon as you take note of the obvious fact that there is no such thing.

These are not the same types of arguments at all. I outlined a variation of the argument for natural rights; and though it has a theistic foundation, it does not rely on divine revelations in the Bible, as Prager's argument does. Some deists, such as Thomas Jefferson, who rejected "special revelation" -- in contrast to "natural revelation," which relies on reason rather than faith -- defended arguments for natural rights similar to the one I outlined.

In the 17th century, as philosophers like Grotius and Pufendorf developed theories of international law, biblical revelation became far less important to political arguments, including the arguments for natural rights. This was pretty much dictated by the very nature of the subject matter. If certain juridical principles were to be universal, such that even non-Christian nations would accept them, then the arguments for those principles obviously could not be based on biblical texts, since this source would not be accepted as authoritative by Muslims and other religious groups. Thus reason became widely accepted as the sole foundation for theories of justice and rights.

One final point: The theory of natural rights, as we know it today, took centuries to develop. (A number of factors contributed to this development, including some social and cultural factors.) But despite variations among different versions of natural rights theories, there were some common themes that ran throughout all of them -- themes that were transmitted to modern libertarian thinkers, such as Ayn Rand. It is therefore a mistake to think that a "duty based" theory of rights, such as the one I outlined earlier, is opposed in every particular to how secular libertarians defend rights today. There is a great deal of common ground, and, speaking personally, I have learned a lot about natural rights theory by reading 17th and 18th works on this topic.

Consider this question: If Ayn Rand had lived, say, in 13th century Europe, do you think she would have been able to write something on ethics comparable to her essays in VOS? I am not a historicist, but I would answer my own question with a resounding "No!" Rand might have broken new ground within the context of 13th century thought, but to imagine that she could have developed, say, the same theory of individual rights strikes me as well-nigh impossible. The necessary groundwork had not yet been laid.

Ghs

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Second, even those Christian theologians who claimed to take the Bible literally had little problem adjusting the teachings of Jesus when they proved inconvenient. For example, the "turn the other cheek" passage was frequently cited by Christian pacifists, but pacifism was not favorably viewed by the later Church, so legions of theologians explained why Jesus did not really mean what he appeared to say.

Since various authors have contributed to the Bible, the Jesus picture presented in it varies accordingly. For example, there is also a passage quoting Jesus saying that he is not going to bring peace, but the sword and that he will crush his enemies.

Which is why a Christian can pick and choose from the Bible and model the Jesus picture suited to individual purpose, but where the Christian cannot pick and choose is the premise on which the whole thing is based: that Jesus was sent to earth by his godly father and "sacrificed" to forgive the sins of mankind which in turn were the result of Adam and Eve's original sin (with which every baby is born).

In for a penny, in for a pound. Rejecting this essential part of the package deal would mean rejecting the premises of the belief, and rejecting the premises means denying the foundation of the belief.

Consider this question: If Ayn Rand had lived, say, in 13th century Europe, do you think she would have been able to write something on ethics comparable to her essays in VOS? I am not a historicist, but I would answer my own question with a resounding "No!"

AR would have been burned at the stake for advocating atheism.

I am not a historicist, but I would answer my own question with a resounding "No!" Rand might have broken new ground within the context of 13th century thought, but to imagine that she could have developed, say, the same theory of individual rights strikes me as well-nigh impossible. The necessary groundwork had not yet been laid.

History of mankind is also a history of freeing the mind from the thought control imposed by worldly and religious rulers.

As for "natural rights": since "rights" are bestowed by humans, they do not exist in nature as such.

Declaring something as an "unalienable right" by law is a value judgement which has been laid down as a law.

From the declaration of Independence:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

Imagine Thomas Jefferson's slaves would have claimed these 'unalienable rights' from him ...

Edited by Xray
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As for "natural rights": since "rights" are bestowed by humans, they do not exist in nature as such.

So where do humans fit into your scheme? Are they part of nature as not-such?

Declaring something as an "unalienable right" by law is a value judgement which has been laid down as a law.

You seem to know less about rights theory than you do about value theory. I didn't think such a thing was possible.

From the declaration of Independence:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

Imagine Thomas Jefferson's slaves would have claimed these 'unalienable rights' from him ...

Jefferson was morally opposed to slavery. He was one among a number of prominent Virginians -- others included James Madison, George Mason, and George Washington -- who managed to reconcile their opposition to slavery with their ownership of slaves.

Ghs

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The natural part of natural rights is a reference to human nature generally considered. Rights as such are an invention given practical substance in law. They are not arbitrary value judgments. Since man is thus he ought to have this (philosophy and law). Xray cannot or will not consider man in the abstract. Instead she will come up with something like some men are serial killers, therefore it makes as much sense to protect their needs as killers as Bill Gates' need to be creative and productive--it's all arbitrary, subjective value judging. This is her absolute--an absolutism she denies the possibility of to all who disagree with her. In Las Vegas this is referred to as a stacked deck.

--Brant

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Smith also pointed out that the original, largely written when he was 23, has the virtue of youthful enthusiasm, and he feared much of that spirit would be lost in a rewrite.

That is freaking amazing.

ATCAG is one of the most important books in my library. I stumbled across it in the school library when I was a grad student, about a year and a half after I became an atheist (and before I had read Ayn Rand), and it was wonderful to find in cogent form the arguments I had formed somewhat intuitively in my own mind and to find other superb arguments as well that supported my new and lonely position. I bought my own copy as soon as I found a source for it.

Judith

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Smith also pointed out that the original, largely written when he was 23, has the virtue of youthful enthusiasm, and he feared much of that spirit would be lost in a rewrite.

That is freaking amazing.

ATCAG is one of the most important books in my library. I stumbled across it in the school library when I was a grad student, about a year and a half after I became an atheist (and before I had read Ayn Rand), and it was wonderful to find in cogent form the arguments I had formed somewhat intuitively in my own mind and to find other superb arguments as well that supported my new and lonely position. I bought my own copy as soon as I found a source for it.

Judith

Judith,

Thanks.

The best advice for writers (and creative people generally) that I have ever heard was from an lengthy interview with Orson Welles that was broadcast on PBS many years ago.

When Welles was asked about his innovative camera techniques in Citizen Kane, he replied that he had never made a movie before, so he wasn't aware that he was breaking new ground. He then observed that as creative people get older, they learn what they are "supposed" to do - the "rules" of their discipline --and this often hinders their creativity. Welles suggested that creative types recapture the spirit and perspective of their earlier years and forget about the conventional rules they have learned since then.

I have thought about this advice many times over the years, as I found myself getting overly concerned about academic standards in philosophy and history. When I wrote ATCAG, I didn't give a damn about academic respectability. I wrote from the heart, so to speak, and that probably accounts for much of the appeal of the book. But maintaining that youthful spirit is easier said than done.

Ghs

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The natural part of natural rights is a reference to human nature generally considered. Rights as such are an invention given practical substance in law. They are not arbitrary value judgments.

All rights reflect value judgemts, and all rights are a human creations. For 'innate' rights just don't exist.

BG: Since man is thus he ought to have this (philosophy and law). Xray cannot or will not consider man in the abstract.

Very few true propositions can be made using "man in the abstract" which include all men. For example, stating say "man is mortal" is a true proposition.

But who is to decide what is life "proper to man"? Sure, many ideologists have tried this.

I would become suspicious if anyone told me how I "ought to" live my life, expecting me to accept a laundry list of his/her preferred values as my own.

BG: Instead she will come up with something like some men are serial killers, therefore it makes as much sense to protect their needs as killers as Bill Gates' need to be creative and productive--it's all arbitrary, subjective value judging.

You don't believe that yourself don't you, Brant. How often have we discussed this here?

Every human is a valuing, goal-seeking individual entity. Whenever I point this out, you seem infer that I just leave it at that. If you read my posts to e. g. the fundamentalist Muslim A. Vlahos here at OL, you will see that this is certainly not the case.

I contribute to both human charity and animal rights organizations - do you believe I would do this if I was indifferent and didn't give a damn?

BG: This is her absolute--an absolutism she denies the possibility of to all who disagree with her. In Las Vegas this is referred to as a stacked deck.

If I had any interest in stacking decks, I would post on a gambling forum.

As for "natural rights": since "rights" are bestowed by humans, they do not exist in nature as such.

So where do humans fit into your scheme? Are they part of nature as not-such?

If you use "nature" that broadly, then everything humans do is nature, human creations, inventions and all.

You then can add philosophy too, and need not make disctinctions between biology and philosophy.

But I think you will agree that this is hardly conducive to a differentiated argumentation.

On another thread, you wrote:

Ghs: Moreover, as I said before, by eliminating this superfluous baggage, we are able to focus on the essential issue without getting bogged down in philosophical biology.

http://www.objectivistliving.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=8595&pid=100034&st=340entry100034

I couldn't agree more. Believing that biological facts include rights would be an example of philosophical biology (or biological philosophy).

Innate rights qua biology do not exist. For example, that we are born with a stomach does not include any "natural right" to have it filled.

Claiming the existence of "innate rights" is another variant of the Is-Ought fallacy: it mistakes an "Ought" for an "Is".

The wish that humans (or animals) "ought to" have rights morphs into a declaration that these rights "are" already there as "innate".

Xray: Declaring something as an "unalienable right" by law is a value judgement which has been laid down as a law.

Ghs: You seem to know less about rights theory than you do about value theory. I didn't think such a thing was possible.

What is your disagrement about the proposition: "Declaring something as an "unalienable right" by law is a value judgement which has been laid down as a law."

Do you think declaring something as an unalienable right is not a value judgement?

Re "value theory": still waiting for you on the other thread to make your case proving that objective values exist. So far, all you have offered was "instrumental" value (the "good" knife example).

Edited by Xray
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When Welles was asked about his innovative camera techniques in Citizen Kane, he replied that he had never made a movie before, so he wasn't aware that he was breaking new ground. He then observed that as creative people get older, they learn what they are "supposed" to do - the "rules" of their discipline --and this often hinders their creativity. Welles suggested that creative types recapture the spirit and perspective of their earlier years and forget about the conventional rules they have learned since then.

I have thought about this advice many times over the years, as I found myself getting overly concerned about academic standards in philosophy and history. When I wrote ATCAG, I didn't give a damn about academic respectability. I wrote from the heart, so to speak, and that probably accounts for much of the appeal of the book. But maintaining that youthful spirit is easier said than done.

It's certainly true for many of the great inventions. They've come from people outside of the field, who didn't know that it "couldn't be done". Pasteur comes to mind off the top of my head, but there are many others. And you're right -- it's easier said than done. It's hard to un-know what one knows.

Judith

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The natural part of natural rights is a reference to human nature generally considered. Rights as such are an invention given practical substance in law. They are not arbitrary value judgments.

All rights reflect value judgemts, and all rights are a human creations. For 'innate' rights just don't exist.

BG: Since man is thus he ought to have this (philosophy and law). Xray cannot or will not consider man in the abstract.

Very few true propositions can be made using "man in the abstract" which include all men. For example, stating say "man is mortal" is a true proposition.

But who is to decide what is life "proper to man"? Sure, many ideologists have tried this.

I would become suspicious if anyone told me how I "ought to" live my life, expecting me to accept a laundry list of his/her preferred values as my own.

BG: Instead she will come up with something like some men are serial killers, therefore it makes as much sense to protect their needs as killers as Bill Gates' need to be creative and productive--it's all arbitrary, subjective value judging.

You don't believe that yourself don't you, Brant. How often have we discussed this here?

Every human is a valuing, goal-seeking individual entity. Whenever I point this out, you seem infer that I just leave it at that. If you read my posts to e. g. the fundamentalist Muslim A. Vlahos here at OL, you will see that this is certainly not the case.

I contribute to both human charity and animal rights organizations - do you believe I would do this if I was indifferent and didn't give a damn?

BG: This is her absolute--an absolutism she denies the possibility of to all who disagree with her. In Las Vegas this is referred to as a stacked deck.

If I had any interest in stacking decks, I would post on a gambling forum.

Not all value judgments are arbitrary. I agree there are no innate rights. Who decides what life is proper to a man? that man. No, I don't believe you will come up with some men are serial killers, therefore .... Why? Because while logical you'd obviously be doing an argumentum ad absurdum on yourself. The universality of human rights appertains to the immorality of initiating force against another person which is rights' violating. When I impose that type of value judgment on another he has no basis of objection save he disagrees with the moral supposition I am operating under. Instead he wants to attack me apropos his own value judgment, in this case arbitrary. In my case, not. "Stacked deck" is metamorphical.

--Brant

I know I used the wrong word--just funnin'

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Although I still agree with Smith about the uniformly deleterious effect of Christianity on sexual matters, I suspect he would significantly change some other historical generalizations, were he writing the book today. But it should be kept in mind that Smith, for the most part, does not discuss the political influence of Christianity, and in some respects his views on that issue have not changed very much.

Your first post reminded me of a speech NB gave to the old Los Angeles Libertarian Supper Club in the 1970s on “The Old and The New Nathaniel Branden.” I can appreciate that your views have changed in the last 40 years, but I’m just not sure the old Smith would feel that the new Smith addressed the crux of the issue: i.e., superficial modern wrinkles don’t change the fundamental influence of the Christian tradition.

As I noted in ATCAG, the teachings of Jesus, especially his parables, are so vague as to admit of a variety of interpretations. Rather than take the time to explain the historical implications of this problem in detail, and at the risk of posting too much material from a work in progress, I will once again quote a lengthy passage from Chapter One of Where Our Freedom Came From and How We Lost it, a book I am currently writing. I apologize for this length of this excerpt, but it makes a number of points that are germane to this discussion.

So what exactly is it that the new Smith would disagree with about what the old Smith said? In your lengthy and very interesting quotation, I see a quasi-legal (i.e., coercion-related) analysis of Christ’s teachings, not an ethical one. What someone should be forced to do is a separate question than what someone should do.

Are you truly willing to deny that, for almost every Christian, self-sacrifice is still presumed to be a primary virtue, or that Christianity does not represent a major obstacle to the explicit acceptance of rational egoism as a viable ethical code in the 21st Century?

These are not the same types of arguments at all. I outlined a variation of the argument for natural rights; and though it has a theistic foundation, it does not rely on divine revelations in the Bible, as Prager's argument does…

I think I misspoke when I said your argument was identical to Prager’s, but the key issue is the suggestion that, as Jefferson wrote in the Declaration, men are (or must be) “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights.” The foundational need for that endowment is the crux of the matter and a key similarity between your argument and his.

Consider this question: If Ayn Rand had lived, say, in 13th century Europe, do you think she would have been able to write something on ethics comparable to her essays in VOS? I am not a historicist, but I would answer my own question with a resounding "No!" Rand might have broken new ground within the context of 13th century thought, but to imagine that she could have developed, say, the same theory of individual rights strikes me as well-nigh impossible. The necessary groundwork had not yet been laid.

Ayn Rand acknowledged that no one could have formulated her philosophy—especially her ethics--without the background of the industrial revolution and what it demonstrated about the connection between rationality, productivity and human happiness. And you do a brilliant job of showing how certain key libertarian ideas evolved through history. But again, there exists an important distinction between how an idea developed and its proper, logical, scientific defense today. To make that statement today--that arguments which use a “theistic foundation” are strong or stronger than a defense derived from reason, reality and human nature--is to applaud the conservative’s religious defense of capitalism over a scientific, rational defense. In so doing, you lend credence to the conventional secularist viewpoint that capitalism cannot be defended rationally—that egoism cannot be defended rationally--and that both are inherently evil because altruism is self-evidently the only legitimate code of ethics.

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