The Radical Core of Christianity

There is an increasing trend of materialists/atheists appropriating the language of Christianity for ideological reasons. It is not simply that Christianity, as an ancient and rich source of a wide range of philosophical and scientific thought provides some "models" or "linguistic schemas" for materialist appropriation. These interpreters are interested in a much more profound meaning of Christianity: Christianity as the religion of the exit from the religious.

It has been said that the only authentic atheism is one which has taken part in the Christian experience. What does this mean? A brief theological excursus is in order.

What took place when Jesus first appeared in Mary's womb? The writer of the gospel of John said: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God." Later he said, "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among men." The incarnation of God himself took place in Mary's womb. It is no wonder she was called "Theotokos" or "God-bearer" by later Christian thinkers. What was necessary for this to occur? St. Paul says in his letter to the Philippians that Jesus had to "make himself nothing", literally, to "empty" himself, what theologians refer to as Christ's kenotic emptying. Empty himself of what? Of his divinity, his divine power. This kenosis is key for Death of God theologians like Thomas Altizer. It was here that they see a definite (de) evolution in God's being. God became man in Christ Jesus. He was indeed a man, but a man who was a God emptied of his power. The next step is crucial: the God-man was crucified. He was put to death. These interpreters see in Christ's "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me" a confession of helplessness, a sign of his final kenotic existence. (It is interesting to note that the Gospel of Peter records Jesus as saying: "My power, my power, why have you forsaken me"). What took place on the cross was not just the death of a man, but the death of God. God merely remained consistent in finishing the final kenotic gesture and emptying the cup of his being to the last drop and then smashing the cup.

It is at this moment that Christianity prepares a way for the exit from the religious. Heaven lies vacant, the Christian God has emptied out any meaning the word "God" has ever had. There is no "big Other", no final Guarantor of meaning, no Master behind the curtain pulling the strings (and is Zizek not correct in saying that even in Stalinism there remains a big Other in the guise of "History"?). The stage lies silent and the audience suddenly realizes they're the main act from now on. Right away some people understand and start forming emancipatory communities. It's up to people to change the world, to emancipate humanity. The Spirit of Christ is now interpreted as the will and the action of the emancipatory people. Did Jesus not say, "where two or three are gathered in my name I am there with them"? Suddenly a light dawns on a radically new egalitarian community. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, there is no female and male..." The Spirit, to quote Hegel, "rises up out of the foaming ferment of finitude." Here now is the only locus of the Spirit: the new universal community. It is literally the people's fidelity to the Event.

The universal collective is soon challenged, however, by a particularist appropriation of Jesus. What this Christian God has done is more than some can bear. No, God cannot be allowed to die. So they constructed the myth of his resurrection. The radical message, the gospel, was soon embedded in an institutionalized ideology. The original heresy was committed: they identified the Church as the body of Christ, forced the particular at the expense of the universal.

The atheist challenge to Christians is clear here: Sacrifice the "Church" as its original founder once sacrificed himself, so that the kenotic will of God may be fulfilled. It's time to reclaim the radical core of Christianity: Christianity as the original and most complete atheism. It's time to form a new world order.

Vânaprastya

I know a man from Uganda who moved to Canada with his wife a few years ago. When he learned that I had lived in Guinea for a short time his first question to me was: "When you went into the jungle, what did you feel?" I thought back to my many treks through those great forests with canopies towering over the earth, blocking out the sun.. I thought about hunting there for meat, battling vine and jungle mountain, breaking suddenly through the foliage to see a great panorama of rain forest and mist, rainbow and endless green life.

"I have not been able to think clearly since leaving my village," he said. "When I am in the forest I can collect my thoughts, but here in the city I cannot." He smiled and looked down at his feet.

The Romance of the New

It is precisely the giveness of love that enables us to hurt one another. It's perverse isn't it? But it's been like this since the beginning of human time. The cliché "We hurt the ones we love" is true here precisely for the reason I've elaborated. People really do love: here to the point of familiarity. Like any child or creature really, we treat those things we are familiar with differently than we treat something new. Elliott first gets a toy and lovingly plays with it.. and in time (sometimes not very long) he's throwing it down the stairs for our dog to chase. We're the same way with people (which is largely why people have affairs: they long for the "newness" of relationship and all that entails), when the relationship is in its initial stages, things are more passionate, it's easier to forgive, easier to defer to our partners. Over time, this changes and the relationship loses its "spark". But if people could understand that the exact same process takes place when we buy a new car, or coffee maker, perhaps we could stop blaming the other person in the relationship, or even ourselves, and start thinking about this fundamental experience of human nature. You can see how in a consumer society the logical next step would be to buy a new product to replace the now familiar one (in essence an effort to recapture the experience, the thrill, the romance of -the new-). So, relationships become disposable, replaceable, and objectified (and so commercial). I think the same underlying mechanism is at work here in our approach to human relationships and commercial objects. It's funny, but sad too, how these relationships often fall apart and are as flimsy as so many of the "new" products being sold in our malls. We are children of our time.

So, how does one forsake here the -Romance of the New- for a -Romance of the Familiar-? Can we stop seeing one another as objects (which is a fundamental part of the problem playing into -or out of- our culture's rampant commercialism)? Are we able to break our addiction to our experience of the new, develop 12-step programs, form support groups, etc? Can we cultivate an appreciation for the familiar, which is an awareness? Or, are we doomed to long for our shiny new things like plastic crack addicts, like addicts of the human object and other new toys?

Reconciliation

I really started thinking about -reconciliation- at the funeral of Vu Pham. Pham's wife spoke of forgiveness toward the one who killed her husband.. At that moment it was as if a weight had been taken off my shoulders, perhaps not completely, but consciously noticeable. I hadn't realized just how connected I was with my community, to feeling a shared responsibility for one of our neighbours and friends. The immediate victims of Fred's actions had taken the first step toward not just individual healing and reconciliation, but communal healing.

On the way to the school today I was talking to my father about Fred's wake yesterday. He mentioned that Pham's father and sister came to pay their respect to the family and a man they had shared a community with. I was struck by this information quite profoundly. Here was yet another step taken by the victims of this tragedy toward reconciliation and the healing of a broken community. I heard soon after that Fred's family has asked that any donations be made to the Pham family fund and was struck again how these two families have chosen to move forward. Preston's family thus acknowledges the wrong that was committed, and in their own way have taken a step towards restitution (no matter how inadequate).

I'm reminded of one of the key themes of restorative justice: healing the brokenness of community. The perpetrator of crime isn't always able to participate in this process, as in Fred's case, but it's victims (both Fred's family and Pham's family) are able to work toward the healing of their respective communities. Communities, it turns out, are organic, interconnected living things. This is precisely why any view of people as objects (as financial entities, as means to an end, etc), even if perpetrators of crime, fails to provide a ground for building a future where violence towards others becomes an option of last choice. In fact, understanding humanity in these ways only perpetuates violence by masking the "human" with abstract ideology.

One last observation here. Isn't it precisely the Pham and Preston family's faith that allowed these first steps of reconciliation to take place? Before my friends accuse me of losing my mind (or coming to my senses), let me say that I speak here of the Christian system, as opposed to any claim to content as truth. Isn't it precisely the Christian system that provides both families with a language to draw from, a language rich with notions of "forgiveness" and "grace", an ancient tradition of response to oppression and violence, an entire framework of belief in which to frame and understand not just "sin" but one's response to it? I claim here that it is Christianity which has made this kind of reconciliation possible, these first steps toward healing not just individuals but entire communities. In this sense then, there is a kind of "truth" revealed in this power to heal and transform very real people.

There will be naysayers no doubt, for whom bashing Christianity (indiscriminately) has become not only fashionable, but a religious way of life. For my part I'm calling it how I see it. I'm further interested in thinking about how other systems provide similar language, narratives, and traditions from which to approach the issue of violence and victimhood.

In the meantime, I pay respect and honour to the integrity and humanity displayed by both families.

A series of unfortunate events

The past few weeks have not been easy.. First I heard of a close relative who attempted suicide. Dealing with the realization that someone I love, loved herself so little and felt so lost and alone that she could attempt to end her life was stunning to me.. I was literally stunned.

The second news I heard actually came to me before it ever hit the mainstream media: Fred Preston, a man who lived literally three doors away, a man who was a member of the church I grew up in, who I've known my entire life, had shot and killed a police officer just a short drive from where I live now, some 4-5 hours from my hometown. Anyone who has grown up in a small town will understand how quickly news can travel, and before the shooter's identity was ever displayed in the media, I had called my parents and asked them if it could possibly be true, if they had heard anything about Fred. Dad served for years on the same township council as Fred and it was through the current reeve that the rumours I had heard from local friends here (who of course had never heard of a "Fred Preston" but had gleaned this information from their neighbours) were true. The impact of this is still resonating within me, within the community of Sundridge, within my family. It's been a horrific experience to live here where Officer Pham worked and hear the opinions and feelings of the locals about Fred, a man they've never met or known, to see Fred's picture in the local papers and news broadcasts, to read the comments made by people on websites about this tragedy, to go to school but a few blocks from where Fred is recovering from his wounds and feel torn inside about whether or not I should go over there and try to see him (I know this would be impossible) while at the same time feel the guilt rise up when I think about Pham's wife and three children who have been left without a father and partner.. I've spent hours and hours trying to put it all together.. I've watched reporters interview people in my hometown and felt the sadness well up inside myself when these honest people can only hang their heads and lower their voices: "I just can't believe Fred would do something like this."

Has it been a tough couple of weeks? Yes more than I can ever articulate. Can I find a redeeming something here? Can I make this into a lesson, a study of human behaviour? Can I say, "Here's what we can learn from this?" I can.. yes it is possible.. but my heart isn't in it. My heart is broken, along with my communities' heart. It is during these moments that I realize what "community" means.. and you precious soul who reads, Sundridge is indeed a community. When one (and yes two) of its sons fall, the community falls. It will not point a finger at Fred: it will weep for Fred. It will not justify Fred: it will weep for Pham. This is no lesson.. it is pain and it is loss. It is a series of events which are not just unfortunate, but tragic.

Scapegoat

I was thinking about T-- too on the way home.. especially after our readings this last week. Doesn't he function as the scapegoat in this class? The rest of us certainly have banded together to form a kind of expulsionary alliance against him.. expulsion in the sense that our primary mode as group toward him is one of alienation. T-- is "the one" in every crowd. In his identification as scapegoat (the exlusionary subject) we are united and cohesive. In a sense the group owes him more than we know.

This, however, presupposes the veracity of the mimetic model. Do we really "believe" that T-- is the scapegoat in our miming of one another? My issue here is that imitation is never authentic, in the sense that only the originary subject/s can claim. Imitation, by definition, is never authentic: it only thinks it is. What we try to convince ourselves, rather, is that "I believe more than you". It's a group one-upmanship which eventually leads to the slaughter of the sacrificial victim. This is why I disagree with the internal mechanism of the mimetic model (of "real belief": even though I think the outcome is pretty much the same). Understood in this way, there is always room to ask the question "but do I really believe this about T-- or do I only think I should?"

I've thought about this a bit (long drives home are quite conducive to thinking/soul searching), and I've come to the conclusion that I don't really want to be a part of any alliance (even unconsciously) against him, even though his personality makes him an easy target at times. I really have nothing against him. I can certainly disagree with him, even feel his positions may be completely erroneous, but in the end I share his humanity and recognize we've both been shaped by forces we had no control over. Here is freedom and peace I think..

Life After Death (Motivations)

As I indicated before, there are a number of implications stemming from the understanding of life after death that I elaborated previously. First, the category "life after death" is no longer a meaningful designation other than for those who have lost a loved one and who must continue to live after their loved one's death. This first implication makes way for the second, and indeed is grounded in it: Life receives its proper grounding as -here-, as present, as living. This is why the phrase "life after death" has lost any meaning as a reference to "life-death-life" qua subject-who-is-dead. Life is therefore, "life-dying", more accurately: -Life- (there is no life apart from dying: "dying" is life, is yet another manifestation of living). The ones who remain after the particular Life (in an existential-bodily sense), are the only ones who may legitimately speak of "life-after-death". Here "life" represents the one who mourns, and "death" the one who is dead.

I have heard it remarked that if there is no life after death (in the traditional sense) there is no reason to be moral people. Why not rape and steal, murder and destroy, if in the end there is no hell or heaven? I have mixed emotions in response to this right away. First I feel sadness and pity. I feel pity for those whose lives are held under such constraint, who always feel under observation, as if a giant eyeball was hovering just over their heads, watching every move. This of course is an exaggeration, but I think there's something to it insofar as behaviour is mediated through the agency of some big Other. The second response is to ask a simple question: Why then do not all atheists rape and steal, murder and destroy? Why then are there many people who have no religious belief, yet live highly ethical lives, give to charities, help others, etc? For whatever reason, their unbelief contributes not at all to leading criminal lives. This observation leads me to suspect that somehow those who are religious lack a true altruism, or an authentic human compassion for others. Is this not suspect as long as there are motivating factors (heaven, hell, grace)? What motivating factors are there for an atheist? Certainly not as profound ones as eternal life and death. (Once I debated with a Rabbi about just this thing. He claimed that every good act is conditioned by some expectation of personal reward. Even giving your grandmother a birthday card, he said, can lead to one feeling good about oneself, result in praise from parents, etc. Every example I gave he was able to reduce to selfish motives. He accused me of being "Pauline"! It wasn't until some time after that I thought of the case of a soldier jumping on a grenade to save his comrades. Here one may argue that he will gain great acclaim as a hero afterwards etc, in which case it is conceivable he might have done it for selfish reasons, though he will not be able to enjoy the fruit of his actions. I personally think people in this situation either act without a moment's hesitation -and therefore do not even identify the Self- or they deliberate too long and the Self is recognized and preserved. I offer nothing but conjecture here but I would be curious to hear the Rabbi's response).

I do not question here the possibility of a Christian or Muslim acting without the mediating notion of an afterlife. I heard once of a Christian saint who said he would rather spend eternity in hell if it meant he might comfort even a single soul. Here I can only profoundly respect this man as a lover of humanity, and a revolutionist. Is his declaration not the culmination of a certain kind of Christian logic? He has merely taken the implications to their very end. He is willing to step into the very gap that Christ himself is not willing to step into. As long as there is a single individual in hell any notion of Christ's sacrifice for all is meaningless. As long as one person burns Christ's earthly ministry is incomplete. This saint was willing to follow the implications of Jesus' life to their very end, and in a sense, become more a Saviour than the Saviour himself who now sits upon a kingly throne and will judge humanity.

But of course this only makes sense within a certain hermeneutic of reality. The primary question should not be "Why do bad things happen to good people?" but, "Why do bad people (the "ungodly", those without heaven or hell) do good things?" And can one admit that they do? We have still not exhausted this topic. To be continued yet again...

Life After Death

I feel that I should begin this post with a disclaimer. Of course it is obvious that whatever I post here is my opinion, or at least my choice of ideological representation (I may well be playing devil's advocate, representing a viewpoint which is not my own yet important to consider nonetheless). Ordinarily I would never post such a disclaimer, but in this case the topic matter may be disturbing to some. I believe we are responsible for the things we say, that like the God of Isaiah, "my word goes out from my mouth and will not return to me empty." Having said this, I stand by my own words, my conscious is clear.

What could warrant such an introduction? Quite simply: it is a matter of life and death. Or perhaps I should clarify further: a matter of life after death. How many doctrines, dreams, comforts, and vindications are founded upon this hope, that one, in some way, lives on after the body perishes? For both Christianity and Islam, the notion that one's personality survives death is integral not just to one's understanding of life in the here-after, but in the here-and-now. What saints and martyrs, what teachers and disciples, what prophets and nations have proclaimed this and even died by this? At a basic level lies the belief that one retains a certain degree of memory, of self-recognition, of a kind of personal integrity (a hanging together) of who one is now. Without this the notion of an afterlife is almost nonsense. If one lives in the here-after but contains no memory or consciousness of who one is now, of what reward is it? Indeed, how can one enjoy or appreciate the effort, the journey, the anticipation, the grace, or even (for some) be judged and fear the punishment? All talk of "meeting one's loved ones" would be meaningless, for how would one recognize them or even know who they are? For this reason it is impossible to separate "life after death" from personality: If the personality does not persist after death, whose "life" do we speak of when we say "life after death"?

Having established this (that any discussion of life after death without an understanding of personality retainment is meaningless), it is necessary to consider the fragility of personality itself. All around exists various instances of head trauma and disease that attack the brain. There is no question that consciousness is connected to brain. If I fall and hit my head hard enough I will lose consciousness. Tied intimately to consciousness, of course, is the notion of personality. The philosopher Nicolas Hearn makes the following observations:

"The advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease debilitates the memory so severely that not only can someone forget their keys, they can also forget what keys are for. Sufferers have been known to attack the spouses they do not recognize, believing them to be intruders in their home. When someone has forgotten all their friends and family, their past and even their name, it can seem that they have indeed become a different person – if they can still be called a person. Alzheimer’s disease is a powerful argument against life after death, because if you can be dead when you are alive then you can certainly be dead when you are dead."

In other words, once the brain is traumatized one's personality is changed, in many instances, irrevocably. What then is the expected outcome for personality once the brain literally dies and decays? Hearn's point is well-taken: If you can be dead (one's personality- one's existential self) when you're alive (biologically), you can certainly be dead (existentially) when you're dead (biologically). The notion of life after death is here seen for what it is: a present dream, functioning more to fulfill various psychological needs now than a reality after death.

What are the implications? The possibilities are many. But, due to space, the next chapter will have to be continued...

Letter to a colleague (it's not all in the head, but it is)

You know, one's views may always be partial.. insofar as they are one's views, which are particular. But maybe this speaks more to one's understanding of wholeness. What if your thoughts are complete in themselves? What if what you're missing is not a "view" but an ontology, a Being which is satisfactory? What if the pursuit of a more complete view only compounds the issue by nurturing this existential incompleteness through intellectual grasping (which has an infinite field to draw from). Perhaps this isn't the answer. People in the academy are often stuck in their own heads. This isn't a bad thing or unnatural. Human beings are capable of high rationality, but they are also capable of rolling around in the grass laughing for no apparent reason at all. It is not a matter of one or the other. I think the more one ignores the other, the more one is missing out on humanity. There is a richness of experience here that should not be overlooked. I say this sincerely. Human experience is not a zero sum game, but involves a rich intermingling and potential for a variety of experiences.

If it's not you, it's not you... but at least consider the possibility. Try experiencing something without thinking about it. Do not consider your inability or ability as a failure or a success. Instead, consider it a practice, an immediate way of life which cannot be defined in terms of pass or fail. Allow your head to try working in a different way. You may be surprised what you find when you stop looking...

Commitment

The preceding post has a number of implications for Relationship. I've already indicated that there is nothing about the nature of Love that prohibits concurrent loving relationships. I am tempted here to comment on polygamous marriages, but I will pass over this to concentrate on the single partner relationship.

If there is nothing inherently prohibitive in my formulation of Love, should we then have open marriages and relationships? I should clarify here: There is nothing prohibitive in the possibility, in the formulation of Love, but there is, however, a prohibitive element when we speak of -Commitment-. While it is possible for subject A to create a multitude of love formulations, it is precisely in the decision to narrowly define relation AR1 (for example) exclusively that subject A manifests prohibition. This is common sense. A choice is always a relatively free act, but a prohibitive/exclusionary one. I always choose A rather than B. It is in this sense that B is excluded or prohibited. I'm not sure I would go as far as some philosophers and declare therefore that Love is evil. Love, for them, is always a necessary choosing against, an exclusionary act which says, "this, but not that". I choose you, but not you. No, for me Love is the formulation of a relation between subject A and another, and is fundamentally a possibility within a multiplicity. It is not exclusionary whatsoever. It is, rather, the decision, the -commitment- which excludes. But is this decision/commitment a negative rather than positive act?

No, here I will borrow the language of Heidegger. Commitment is not a being-against-others, but a being-for-other (I will not discuss whether or not this is secretly a being-for-itself). Commitment is here framed in positive terms: the existence of another love subject does not concern the primary formulation of a commitment. It is a non-issue. Each time subject A is confronted with -another- he/she is faced again with the decision and commitment. Each time the decision is reaffirmed, it is a positive affirmation. It is not primarily a No to others, but a Yes to a specific formulation. It is life and freedom in this sense.

Have I escaped the consequences of this Yes? No, not entirely. I believe, however, that what remains for the one whose shared formulation with subject A is "non-that" is to either accept and rejoice in the positive affirmation by the other, to be indifferent, or to reject it and attempt to force the formulation. Here we are able to legitimately speak of evil at last. Evil, in this context, is the illegitimate forcing of a specific formulation. In this sense only should Love be considered evil.

Love (In the Spirit of Valentine's Day)

The above diagram illustrates something I've come to realize about the nature of love. When we say "love" we often use it in various contexts in which it can't possibly mean exactly the same thing. I love my wife, my mother, my poodle, my country, my breakfast sandwich, winter, summer, sex, knitting, hunting, animals, etc etc, fill in the blank. We have one word to describe a whole complex of relationships. Now what about the relationship between two people who "love" one another, an intimate couple? Surely here we have some universal sense of the word that can be applied to each one of these relationships. Yes and no. I think here humans are capable of great self-deception and even profound self-inflicted damage. Think of the husband who recently lost his wife to cancer, who a few years later meets another woman and has a difficult time telling her he loves her even though he most certainly does, yet avoids it out of feelings of guilt, as if he would be betraying his deceased partner. Think here of the woman who recently broke up with her boyfriend of many years, who hesitates to tell someone new that she loves him/her because she "thought" she was in love with the previous boyfriend but now tells herself she can't possibly know what that means anymore, etc. I think here the primary difficulty is thinking that love has a nature, or some fundamental substance/being separate from the people involved. It's something that we "fall into" or are "in", as if it was an object outside of oneself. It's something we can "give" to others, again as if it was an object or a gift. No, here I couldn't disagree more.

The diagram illustrates my thinking about this. We will say "love" is that bracketed <> part of the relational formula. Quite simply, love is a relation which cannot be reduced to a subject singularity (even if we speak of loving oneself: the moment we do this we have already made a distinction). This is exactly what these other formulations try to do. The love between subject A and 1 is formulated based on their specific relationship. It is impossible that what is shared between subject A and 1 is the same as that between A and 2, by very virtue of the fact that we are dealing here with (at least one) separate entities. The love shared between A and 1 (where R is relation) will only ever be AR1, and can never be understood in terms of AR2 or AR3. It is for this reason that an individual really can "love" more than one person concurrently.

In this vein, people who say "I will never love again!" are both within their right to say so, and also gravely mistaken. 1) They are within their right: The specific formulation will never be duplicated. So for example, the man who lost his wife to cancer will never repeat the specific love formula AR1 where he is A and his wife was 1. 2) They are gravely mistaken. A new formulation is always a possibility. Using the same example, he may indeed love his new partner, AR2. If our formula depended only on the man, he may well say this, but of course it is impossible to make such statements as a subject singularity. Love always refers, always relates, within a multiplicity. He should not fear that telling his partner somehow compromises the way he felt/feels for his deceased wife. In fact, he may continue to say he loves his deceased wife without somehow betraying his new love. Of course, it almost goes without saying that both parties need to share this understanding of "love" to avoid those feelings of guilt/pain associated with the older erroneous understanding.

The Mask of Pluralism

There is something suspect in the pluralist notion of society, a place where different cultures and values meet, but a place nonetheless where there is dialogue (even if it is agonistic rather than antagonistic). The only (seeming) condition is that in order to come to the table, to be a part of this society in the first place, any claim to central authority must be waived. So for example, political pluralism cannot exist in a society where a particular ideology is time and again foisted upon the public, where time and again the proponents of this ideology try to gain ruling majority in a bid for political hegemony (and eventually the complete conversion of the masses). Usually in this regard (and let's be brutally honest here), the unspoken referent is Islamic or Christian fundamentalism, or perhaps even secularization in some contexts.

So what is the problem here? I see here an assumption being made by those supporters of pluralism: namely, that there can be no central authority, except the commitment to pluralist values and renunciation of anything else that may endanger these. Supporters of pluralism will even go so far as to suggest that in certain circumstances force must be used to deactivate those who pose a real threat to these ideals (William Connolly for example). The problem then becomes, what difference is there between a pluralist political hegemony and that of one of these fundamentalist groups in regard to central authority claims? Are they both not willing to use force to uphold their ideals? Do they both not claim to offer what is Good, and therefore something that should be embraced universally?

I feel here that one should not be fooled by the appearance of pluralist tolerance and willingness to "listen" to the Other. Proponents of pluralism claim that all opinions are taken into consideration before making policy. But isn't this very refusal to accept claims about authority already an indication that pluralist "dialogue" is a smokescreen? What pluralists (part of the current liberal democratic regime in the West) are saying is: "It's ok to be a Christian or a Muslim as long as you empty your beliefs of any offending characteristics." Who decides what those characteristics are, the "majority"? What happens when a democratic majority may hold a conception of central authority that is fundamentalist in nature? This doesn't even take into consideration the role of mass marketing and indoctrination. In the words of one lover of humanity and freedom: "Propaganda is to a democracy what the bludgeon is to a totalitarian state."

Kith and Kin

You live in a deranged age, more deranged than usual, because in spite of great scientific and technological advances, man has not the faintest idea of who he is or what he is doing. Walker Percy

As time goes by some people start to take an interest in the history of their origins. Some delve into the genealogical sciences more than others, but I think underlying this interest is a more fundamental desire to know who one is. It is as if one's identity now can be better defined by who one's family, one's tribe, even one's nation was then. Perhaps this is so. It seems to me that those who have never been severed from their roots (traditions, family rituals, sense of being a people) suffer little of that modern malaise Walker Percy was able to capture so well in his novels and writing. Here, people understand that they are living within a continuity, a fidelity to a way of life, a set of values shared by one's family and people before them. One's role in that continuity is more or less clearly defined. Yes there are always issues, always conflicts of various kinds, but the identity issue is not one of them. Conflict is settled from the solid ground of knowing "this is who I am". Issues are worked out with the sense of maintaining fidelity to this continuity, and those within the community all agree to this basic common ground. This holds true from small jungle communities in West Africa to the Amish, Mennonites, and other Anabaptist communities all around the world. I am not idealizing these communities, but I am calling attention to a powerful truth embedded in their way of life.

Can all this be recreated artificially? Should it? How successfully? Theories abound.

To be continued...

Stem Cell Ethics

Last February I presented a paper to a group of theologians in London concerning the ethics of stem cell research, more specifically, the changing face of stem cell research and the need for theologians to renew their ethical approach. I suggested then that new techniques would soon render obsolete ethical arguments surrounding human embryonic stem cells (hESCs). Today this suggestion is as pertinent as ever. The ability to produce induced pluripotent stem cells (iPSCs) from adult somatic cells is now widely achievable in many labs. This was an important step towards a more ethical and less politically charged issue. Now that hESCs are no longer needed to produce iPSCs (hence the reduction in the number of human embryos that would be destroyed), it almost seems that any ethical opposition has been surmounted. Think again.

An international group of collaborators from Canada, the US, UK, and Japan have called attention to the new set of ethical concerns that should be raised in connection with iPSCs:

1) Because an iPSC will necessarily contain the genetic information of the donor—and, as a result, information about potential disease predispositions—there may be privacy concerns.

2) Consent issues are likely to emerge. iPSC lines could be used for decades for innumerable different studies around the world, some of which may not even have been conceived when the cells were donated. What kind of consent is required to make this ongoing work ethically and legally sound. The right to withdraw from participation in research is a hallmark of traditional research ethics norms. How should this right operate in the context of iPSC research? Can donors of cells for iPSC research withdraw their consent to participate at anytime? If so, must the resultant cell line be destroyed?

3) The pluripotent nature of iPSCs also raises challenges, the most notable arguably being the possible use of human iPSCs to create gametes, which raises several issues, including the creation and destruction of human embryos (which brings us back to older ethical issues).

Are iPSCs a step in the right direction? I think so. The task for theologians (and anyone else who shares similar or related understandings of the human creature) is to remain well-informed, to formulate concerns, and to make their voices heard.

Aalto-Setala, K., Conklin, B. & Lo, B. PLoS Biol. 7, e1000042 (2009).

Baker, M. Nature 458, 962–965 (2009).

Caulfield, T., Ogbogu, U. & Isasi, R. CMAJ 176, 1722–1725 (2007).

Mathews, D.J.H. et al. Cell Stem Cell 5, 11–14 (2009).

Sugarman, J. Cell Stem Cell 2, 529–533 (2008).

Theology and Science

One cannot practice a science of the human subject without a philosophy of the human subject, and vice versa. As Althusser once said: “There is no such thing as a pure empirical analysis. Every analysis, even an empirical analysis, presupposes a minimum of theoretical references...” It can only reduce the totality to its parts, or state the totality in terms of the sum of the parts. Philosophy too, following Althusser, draws lines of demarcation within the whole, but these demarcations have no real substance. It is for this reason that philosophy is closer to the human subject than science tout court. Yet a philosophy uninformed by science is little more than fairy tales and hot air. This is why Althusser believes that philosophy is determined by science. It is its grounding substance so to speak. Where does theology fit into this? What is its relationship to science? Althusser is clear: theology is exploiter.

"Which means: the sciences are never seen for what they really are; their existence, their limits, their growing pains (baptized 'crises') or their mechanisms, as interpreted by the idealist categories of the most well-informed philosophies, are used from outside; they may be used crudely or subtly, but they are used to furnish arguments or guarantees for extra-scientific values that the philosophies in question objectively serve through their own practice, their 'questions' and their 'theories'. These 'values' pertain to practical ideologies, which play their own role in the social cohesion and social conflicts of class societies. "

Is this not exactly the case? Does theology not exploit science to serve its own values? Here one must be ruthless when confronting these intellectual imperialists. Is this not the Nazification of science? Perhaps this is also true for people like Dawkins and to a lesser degree Dennett. Science serves an ideological purpose, and as such, is “used from the outside". When theology functions this way, idealism has come to dominate materialism, or the empirical.

"[...] a subjective experience, or a feeling of conviction, can never justify a scientific statement, and within science it can play no part except that of an object of empirical (a psychological) inquiry. No matter how intense a feeling of conviction it may be, it can never justify a statement. Thus I can be utterly convinced of the truth of a statement; certain of the evidence of my perceptions; overwhelmed by the intensity of my experience: every doubt may seem to me absurd. But does this the slightest reason for science to accept my statement? [...] The answer is, ‘No’; and any other answer would be incompatible with the idea of scientific objectivity." Popper, Logic of Scientific Discovery.