[NOTE: This excerpt appeared more than three years before ElBaradie became a key figure in Egypt's Revolution:]
Ours is a time desperate for cool heads and clear vision, and one man who offers both is Mohamed ElBaradei, Director-General of the International Atomic Energy Agency since 1997, and winner (with the IAEA) of the 2005 Nobel Peace Prize.
Had the US listened to ElBaradei in March 2003 when he told the U.N. Security Council that his investigations showed no evidence of an Iraqi nuclear weapons program, we would not be at war in Iraq today. And now he’s the only public figure communicating with both the Iranians and the Americans to prevent another nuclear showdown.
The New York Times recently referred to him as a “secular pope,” which TV interviewer Charlie Rose suggested meant “making sure that people don't kill each other.” (The interview transcript is at http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/11/01/africa/01rose-elb.php?page=5.).Hearing this, ElBaradei acknowledged that, like the Pope, he must rely less on political power and more on moral authority:
"Secular pope" means I have to remind people of the basic principles they subscribe to. You know, I have to remind the weapons states that they committed themselves to move to nuclear disarmament. I have to remind everybody that they committed to resolve issues through peaceful means. I have to remind people that there is an inspection process at work, so we don't go and bomb…
ElBaradei hopes that in his lifetime he will see nuclear weapons become a historical taboo like genocide and slavery. But this man is experienced and wise enough to know that, more than 60 years after Hiroshima and 45 years after the Cuban Missile Crisis, we have still not come to terms with the basic moral dilemma of nuclear weapons:
We still continue to live in a world where people see that having nuclear weapons is a means of power, of prestige and of a shield. If you really want to protect yourself, you know, you should have nuclear weapons.
The whole system, the so-called arms-control system, is based on those who do not have weapons should not have weapons, but the weapons states should move into nuclear disarmament…But as long as we continue to say, "well, nuclear weapons are very important for our security, but you cannot have it," that system is not sustainable in the long run.
So I think the US, Russia, everybody, all the weapons states, will have much stronger moral authority if they show -- if they say, "We are moving into that direction. We don't need to rely on nuclear weapons."
ElBaradei is absolutely right to place the moral burden on the Weapons States. For they are the founders and sustainers of a double standard that hypocritically reserves the supposed “benefits” of nuclear weapons to themselves while denying them to others—and even threatening war on those who seek them. The envy and resentment this creates is, all by itself, a grave obstacle to global peace. And no one can remove that obstacle but the Weapons States who invented it.
Monday, February 28, 2011
#320: Catholic Solidarity
EXCERPT:
The current standoff between Wisconsin’s governor, his Democratic legislators, the protesters in and around the state house, and his own populist supporters, raises a multiplicity of issues about the place of labor unions in American Life. Over the last 50 years, the percentage of unionized American workers in private industry has declined while, at the same time, the percentage of unionized public workers has increased. This reflects both the widening of legal protections for unions (which were once widely banned from the public sector) and a simultaneous shrinkage of unions’ political power in corporate America.
In the current fight, seen as a bellweather for many other states, what is a stake is the future of those legal protections.
As the standoff continued, it became clear that the question of reducing workplace benefits for state employees was really camouflage for the deeper challenge to collective bargaining itself. By now, the unions have agreed to concede the economic provisions of the proposed legislation, but object to its legal consequences in restricting their ability to negotiate future contracts.
And here we approach an issue which, for American Catholics, should not be about liberal vs. conservative or Democratic vs. Republican; it should be about the basic matter of Catholic identity. For it is now more than a century that the Catholic Church has been on record supporting the notion that trade unionism, and the collective bargaining that goes with it, are basic human rights which, in modern capitalist societies, are often the only protection workers have against corporate power.
As complex and subtle as the Wisconsin case may be, it would be sad if Catholics lost sight of the fundamental commitment to unionism and collective bargaining which, as a matter of principle, is rooted in our own Christian faith.
The current standoff between Wisconsin’s governor, his Democratic legislators, the protesters in and around the state house, and his own populist supporters, raises a multiplicity of issues about the place of labor unions in American Life. Over the last 50 years, the percentage of unionized American workers in private industry has declined while, at the same time, the percentage of unionized public workers has increased. This reflects both the widening of legal protections for unions (which were once widely banned from the public sector) and a simultaneous shrinkage of unions’ political power in corporate America.
In the current fight, seen as a bellweather for many other states, what is a stake is the future of those legal protections.
As the standoff continued, it became clear that the question of reducing workplace benefits for state employees was really camouflage for the deeper challenge to collective bargaining itself. By now, the unions have agreed to concede the economic provisions of the proposed legislation, but object to its legal consequences in restricting their ability to negotiate future contracts.
And here we approach an issue which, for American Catholics, should not be about liberal vs. conservative or Democratic vs. Republican; it should be about the basic matter of Catholic identity. For it is now more than a century that the Catholic Church has been on record supporting the notion that trade unionism, and the collective bargaining that goes with it, are basic human rights which, in modern capitalist societies, are often the only protection workers have against corporate power.
As complex and subtle as the Wisconsin case may be, it would be sad if Catholics lost sight of the fundamental commitment to unionism and collective bargaining which, as a matter of principle, is rooted in our own Christian faith.
Friday, February 25, 2011
#319 The Difference Between Hands and Feet
EXCERPT:
After twenty centuries, Catholics symbols can get pretty complex (some of us knew that even before The Da Vinci Code!). And this week's events in Ireland gave two ancient symbols a new relevance.
The first involved the washing of feet. At a special ceremony of repentance in Dublin's Saint Mary's pro-Cathedral, two bishops -- Cardinal Sean O'Malley of Boston and Archbishop Diarmuid Martin of Dublin -- knelt to wash the feet of eight victims of priestly sexual abuse. The full church watched these bishops lie prostrate as abuse government reports of child abuse cases were read by lectors. They also saw the bishops join in applauding the several victims who interrupted the ceremony to give their own spontaneous testimonies.
The foot-washing ritual, of course, has deep Christian roots….
…This week's ritual in Ireland added yet another layer, echoing the repentant woman who anointed Jesus’ feet as much as Jesus himself. This was a gesture, not only of service, but of abject apology for the suffering of all the people those eight victims represented.
But another, less hopeful symbol also intruded, for at least one victim (Paddy Doyle, who was among the first to blow the whistle on Ireland's scandal) was unimpressed, and invoked another image from Catholic tradition to express his skepticism:
They said the cardinal from Boston wanted to wash my feet, but it sounded like they wanted to wash their hands of the whole thing, so I said no.
Off-hand, the phrase "wash their hands" might seem like an everyday figure of speech, but of course it also derives (like many "everyday" expressions) from the gospels. ..
...How sadly ironic that, for too long, church officials faced with charges against priests mimicked Pilate, washing their own hands of any responsibility for the fate of abuse victims and the future behavior of child-abusing priests.
Patti Doyle's doubts are perfectly understandable… Most often past churchmen have simply repeated "Roma locuta est." -- Rome has spoken -- to squelch any questioning of the hierarchy’s authority.
Even when they acknowledged some past misdeeds, such admissions have been consistently couched in a convenient but specious distinction between the Church (which never failed) and individual members of the Church's leadership. I call the distinction specious because, if the Church is the People of God, it fails if the leaders fail and the people follow their lead. But this was an admission we never heard.
What gives me hope in this case is that Sean O'Malley used the right words for a change. Yes, he first asked forgiveness for "the sexual abuse of children perpetrated by priests," and these words were par for the course. But then he went on to ask forgiveness for the past failures of "the Church's hierarchy, here and in Rome, the failure to respond appropriately to the problem of sexual abuse." This refers not to abuse itself, but to the mismanagement that covered up that abuse -- and this places responsibility for that squarely on bishops and even on the Vatican. Such a statement goes well beyond the usual grudging admissions of churchmen.
Finally, O’Malley stated:
Publicly atoning for the Church's failures is an important element of asking the forgiveness of those who have been harmed by priests and Bishops.
Again this refers to the failures that covered up abuse, holding "bishops" responsible. But more striking to me is the phrase "the Church's failures" -- clearly breaking with that old pretense that the Church itself never fails. Yes, we believe that divine guidance guarantees the Church will never experience total failure in its mission or disappear from the face of the earth. But divine guidance does not make the people of God any less human. O’Malley’s statement finally breaks through the denial of that sinful humanity.
After twenty centuries, Catholics symbols can get pretty complex (some of us knew that even before The Da Vinci Code!). And this week's events in Ireland gave two ancient symbols a new relevance.
The first involved the washing of feet. At a special ceremony of repentance in Dublin's Saint Mary's pro-Cathedral, two bishops -- Cardinal Sean O'Malley of Boston and Archbishop Diarmuid Martin of Dublin -- knelt to wash the feet of eight victims of priestly sexual abuse. The full church watched these bishops lie prostrate as abuse government reports of child abuse cases were read by lectors. They also saw the bishops join in applauding the several victims who interrupted the ceremony to give their own spontaneous testimonies.
The foot-washing ritual, of course, has deep Christian roots….
…This week's ritual in Ireland added yet another layer, echoing the repentant woman who anointed Jesus’ feet as much as Jesus himself. This was a gesture, not only of service, but of abject apology for the suffering of all the people those eight victims represented.
But another, less hopeful symbol also intruded, for at least one victim (Paddy Doyle, who was among the first to blow the whistle on Ireland's scandal) was unimpressed, and invoked another image from Catholic tradition to express his skepticism:
They said the cardinal from Boston wanted to wash my feet, but it sounded like they wanted to wash their hands of the whole thing, so I said no.
Off-hand, the phrase "wash their hands" might seem like an everyday figure of speech, but of course it also derives (like many "everyday" expressions) from the gospels. ..
...How sadly ironic that, for too long, church officials faced with charges against priests mimicked Pilate, washing their own hands of any responsibility for the fate of abuse victims and the future behavior of child-abusing priests.
Patti Doyle's doubts are perfectly understandable… Most often past churchmen have simply repeated "Roma locuta est." -- Rome has spoken -- to squelch any questioning of the hierarchy’s authority.
Even when they acknowledged some past misdeeds, such admissions have been consistently couched in a convenient but specious distinction between the Church (which never failed) and individual members of the Church's leadership. I call the distinction specious because, if the Church is the People of God, it fails if the leaders fail and the people follow their lead. But this was an admission we never heard.
What gives me hope in this case is that Sean O'Malley used the right words for a change. Yes, he first asked forgiveness for "the sexual abuse of children perpetrated by priests," and these words were par for the course. But then he went on to ask forgiveness for the past failures of "the Church's hierarchy, here and in Rome, the failure to respond appropriately to the problem of sexual abuse." This refers not to abuse itself, but to the mismanagement that covered up that abuse -- and this places responsibility for that squarely on bishops and even on the Vatican. Such a statement goes well beyond the usual grudging admissions of churchmen.
Finally, O’Malley stated:
Publicly atoning for the Church's failures is an important element of asking the forgiveness of those who have been harmed by priests and Bishops.
Again this refers to the failures that covered up abuse, holding "bishops" responsible. But more striking to me is the phrase "the Church's failures" -- clearly breaking with that old pretense that the Church itself never fails. Yes, we believe that divine guidance guarantees the Church will never experience total failure in its mission or disappear from the face of the earth. But divine guidance does not make the people of God any less human. O’Malley’s statement finally breaks through the denial of that sinful humanity.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
#318 The Burden of Proof
EXCERPT:
The unrest now spreading across the Middle East reminds us that the democratic idea--the desire for self-determination--is contagious. Just as each Egypt caught it from Tunisia, others may be catching it from Egypt. This contagion has been spreading for some 500 years, and is by now nothing less than a global epidemic--but bringing life, not death.
It would be sad if history finally judges that this great human achievement--the global triumph of self determination --began with a revolt against the Catholic Church. But it would be even sadder if the Church had actually incubated that idea, even given birth to it, only to resist it, reject it, and ultimately disown it.
It may seem odd to link the rebellion in Egypt with the sex abuse scandal, but they share a common cause: the abuse of autocratic power; and they both made global headlines when a few courageous individuals stepped forward to speak truth to power. Odd as the linkage may seem, the lesson is clear: the Church’s crisis is a struggle not just within the Church itself, but also in the Church's relationship with the outside world. For its autocratic culture clashes with the phenomenon of autocracy trending toward extinction.
Alfred North Whitehead once argued, nearly a century ago, that the democratic idea was the great achievement of the modern age. As such, it erects one of the great tollgates of history: one cannot pass into the future without first honoring self-determination. To resist this idea is a death-wish, leading to obsolescence rather than survival.
The ultimate question here is just as blunt and simple for the Church as it was for Egypt (and the other 83 fallen autocracies): will this be a place of freedom?
...
The Catholic Church has often cast itself as a "perfect society" -- but that cannot mean one that has outgrown the need for freedom. To survive its current crisis and embrace a brighter future, it will need to convince us -- not just Catholics but all people -- that it, too, can be a place of freedom. One cannot claim to speak for the God of history if one is on the wrong side of that history.
This does not mean the Church must install democratic structures. True, it has been more democratic in the past, but even a hierarchy can avoid autocracy if it makes itself accountable to its people. The absence of such accountability is the real scandal of recent Catholic history.
But whether its structures remain hierarchical or become more democratic, the institutional church faces a profound challenge. Can it drop the pretense that ecclesiastical autocracy is a divine mandate? Can it acknowledge that self-determination is the mandate of modern history? Can it invest Catholic concepts like the “Sensus Fidelium” (a consensus of the faithful members) and "Subsidiarity" (the need for local decision-making) with real and practical value? Can it retrieve a Church culture where ordinary Catholics have a voice commensurate with their maturity, education, life experience, and collective wisdom?
This may not require congregational autonomy or the denominational splintering typical of Protestant history, but it will require a radical change in Catholic culture. If our Church can do this, it can pass yet another of history's tollgates and renew itself as the global force it still aspires to be.
But for now, at least, the heavy burden of proof rests on the institution and its hierarchy.
The unrest now spreading across the Middle East reminds us that the democratic idea--the desire for self-determination--is contagious. Just as each Egypt caught it from Tunisia, others may be catching it from Egypt. This contagion has been spreading for some 500 years, and is by now nothing less than a global epidemic--but bringing life, not death.
It would be sad if history finally judges that this great human achievement--the global triumph of self determination --began with a revolt against the Catholic Church. But it would be even sadder if the Church had actually incubated that idea, even given birth to it, only to resist it, reject it, and ultimately disown it.
It may seem odd to link the rebellion in Egypt with the sex abuse scandal, but they share a common cause: the abuse of autocratic power; and they both made global headlines when a few courageous individuals stepped forward to speak truth to power. Odd as the linkage may seem, the lesson is clear: the Church’s crisis is a struggle not just within the Church itself, but also in the Church's relationship with the outside world. For its autocratic culture clashes with the phenomenon of autocracy trending toward extinction.
Alfred North Whitehead once argued, nearly a century ago, that the democratic idea was the great achievement of the modern age. As such, it erects one of the great tollgates of history: one cannot pass into the future without first honoring self-determination. To resist this idea is a death-wish, leading to obsolescence rather than survival.
The ultimate question here is just as blunt and simple for the Church as it was for Egypt (and the other 83 fallen autocracies): will this be a place of freedom?
...
The Catholic Church has often cast itself as a "perfect society" -- but that cannot mean one that has outgrown the need for freedom. To survive its current crisis and embrace a brighter future, it will need to convince us -- not just Catholics but all people -- that it, too, can be a place of freedom. One cannot claim to speak for the God of history if one is on the wrong side of that history.
This does not mean the Church must install democratic structures. True, it has been more democratic in the past, but even a hierarchy can avoid autocracy if it makes itself accountable to its people. The absence of such accountability is the real scandal of recent Catholic history.
But whether its structures remain hierarchical or become more democratic, the institutional church faces a profound challenge. Can it drop the pretense that ecclesiastical autocracy is a divine mandate? Can it acknowledge that self-determination is the mandate of modern history? Can it invest Catholic concepts like the “Sensus Fidelium” (a consensus of the faithful members) and "Subsidiarity" (the need for local decision-making) with real and practical value? Can it retrieve a Church culture where ordinary Catholics have a voice commensurate with their maturity, education, life experience, and collective wisdom?
This may not require congregational autonomy or the denominational splintering typical of Protestant history, but it will require a radical change in Catholic culture. If our Church can do this, it can pass yet another of history's tollgates and renew itself as the global force it still aspires to be.
But for now, at least, the heavy burden of proof rests on the institution and its hierarchy.
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