#268: Benedict Goes Outside the Box

Pope John-Paul II famously rejected "liberation theology," and in the process undermined the radically progressive social teachings of his predecessor, Paul VI.  Ironically, the "conservative" Benedict XVI personally took up the challenge of reviving Paul's social vision--thus proving that his resignation was not the first time Benedict defied expectations. Here (from 2009) is my last retro-piece before Benedict leaves tomorrow:

 

After more than 35 turbulent years working in the Catholic Church, I often wonder "Why work here?"

Benedict XVI’s new social encyclical “Caritas in Veritate” ("Charity in Truth") confirms my habitual answer, reminding me of a simple but unheralded fact: few institutions can match the world vision of the Roman Catholic Church (despite all the Church’s flaws).  It's a vision that offers a depth, balance, and wisdom far beyond any corporation, university, or political party I know -- especially because it consistently goes "outside the box" of conventional ideologies. 

A Surprise From The Pope. Benedict largely confirms and updates previous Catholic social teachings, without breaking dramatic new ground.  But he does so in a way that greatly surprised me. 

After all, Joseph Ratzinger abandoned his "progressive” identity 40 years ago, becoming first a champion among theological "conservatives," then serving as "Vatican watchdog," and finally succeeding his conservative mentor John-Paul II as pope.  Yet he centers his first social encyclical on the very document that many regard as the most progressive, even radical, of all papal pronouncements: Paul VI’s “Populorum Progressio” (“The Progress of Peoples,” 1967). 

Conservatives have long labeled “Populorum Progressio” an "odd duck" among papal writings, and even social progressives like Father Andrew Greeley found it uncomfortably close to left-wing radicalism.  Many believed that the subsequent political turmoil of 1968 -- the same turmoil that scared Ratzinger off his progressive agenda -- proved that Paul VI was a naive romantic. 

Yet here is Benedict, writing to assess the 40 years since “Populorum Progressio,” and finding it is not only still relevant but even vital for understanding the challenges of our day. 

Modern Catholic social doctrine has been largely shaped by papal encyclicals, beginning with Leo XIII’s "Rerum Novarum" ("Of New Things," 1891) and continuing with major contributions by Pius XI, John XXIII, Paul VI, and John-Paul II. 

Rerum Novarum launched this modern era in Catholicism's worldview by focusing the Church's attention on "the social question." This phrase, a household word among thinkers and leaders between 1870 and 1914, questioned the circumstances in which Europe’s newly-emerged working classes were laboring and living.  Those raising "the social question" -- including Pope Leo XIII -- wondered why the emergence of competitive market societies (modern capitalism) had not produced the "liberty, equality, fraternity" expected of modern democracies.  With Rerum Novarum, the Catholic Church joined forces with those who believed that social reforms and political intervention might be required to correct the injustices of "unbridled capitalism."

Paul VI: Prophet of Globalization.  Papal encyclicals after 1891 amplified or updated Rerum Novarum, but in 1967 Paul VI attempted a more ambitious project: Totally re-framing the social question in light of the new global era emerging in the 1960s due to decolonization, air transportation, mass media, and multinational corporations.

 While American politics was still obsessing over tensions between capitalist West and communist East, Pope Paul was already focused on relations between the rich North and the poor South, and he re-set the social question on a new basis: development.  "Development," he famously said, "is the new name for peace."

Paul did not use the term "globalization," but his vision of an emerging new world order scared off many readers, so that Populorum Progressio has languished in a neglected state, even as globalization itself has blossomed into a dominant force in our social, political, and economic lives.

Benedict's surprise move is to refocus attention squarely on Populorum Progressio, even calling it "the Rerum Novarum of our time." In effect, this Pope, writing in the enormous wake of John-Paul II, has ironically cast himself as the champion of Paul VI’s world vision.  Indeed, the simplest way to grasp the gist of Caritas in Veritate’s 144 pages is to understand that Benedict wants to accomplish two things: (1) he wants to affirm the vision and message of Populorum Progressio, and (2) he wants to update that vision to preserve its relevance. 

The Vision of Paul VI.  Benedict's full title is "On Integral Human Development in Charity and Truth." Here he adopts Paul VI’s notion that our era's principle challenge is to achieve, not just any development, but the kind of development that will fulfill humanity's true calling and destiny. 

For Benedict, this Integral Human Development (“IHD”) cannot be achieved by mere technological progress; it must also incorporate a special kind of love -- "charity in truth" -- that goes beyond sentimentality to achieve real fraternity rooted in our true nature as God's chosen ambassadors. 

Following the lead of both Vatican II and Paul VI, Benedict sees our time facing one principal risk: that the globalized world’s de facto interdependence will not be matched by the moral dynamics needed for "truly human development."

That's why, for Benedict, Populorum Progressio remains a landmark in Catholic social doctrine.  It was Paul VI who saw that "the social question had become worldwide," and who proclaimed that the Church's life must aim to promote IHD.  Indeed, he taught that development is the heart of the Christian social message, and that Christian charity is a principal force in promoting IHD worldwide. 

For ordinary Catholics, the implications are profound.  We cannot be truly Catholic without embracing the Christian social message -- and we cannot do that without committing ourselves to development.  The rest of Caritas in Veritate simply spells out what that means. 

The Church’s Goal: Global Fraternity. But first Benedict invokes one more of Paul VI’s ideas.  If the world lacked true development in 1967-- and if IHD is even more lacking 40 years later-- the main causes are not material (lack of money, resources, institutions, or legislation).  The main causes are lack of wisdom and a lack of brotherhood. In calling for social reforms aimed at "the establishment of authentic fraternity," Benedict offers this comment as the keystone of his entire encyclical:

As society becomes more globalized, it makes us neighbors but does not make as brothers.

Benedict then devotes a chapter to surveying the changes since Populorum Progressio -- the shifts in economic, political, and social life that require updating Paul VI’s account of IHD. 

He deplores that 40 years of expanding global wealth have not reduced what Paul VI called "the scandal of glaring inequalities."

He notes that national governments no longer control commerce in an age of mobile capital, production, and labor.

He warns that globalization threatens to downsize the social safety nets for needy people. 

He admits that trade unions face new difficulties in outsourcing and unemployment. 

He fears that the commercialization of world culture threatens to extremes: a parallelism where different cultures share no dialogue, and a leveling where cultures lose all their traditional identity. 

Benedict finds hunger, respect for life, and religious freedom all struggling to progress, and laments that scientific knowledge and ethical wisdom do not collaborate better. 

In sum, Benedict says all these new elements "require new solutions" -- solutions that will redistribute global wealth, prioritize full employment, protect workers' rights, and create more humane living for all.  Without such solutions, he warns, globalization could "cause unprecedented damage and create new divisions within the human family."

In restoring Paul VI’s Populorum Progressio to prominence, Benedict has gone outside the box of both his own conservative reputation and of conventional interpretations of Catholic Social Doctrine. On top of that, his proposed “new solutions” will go outside the box of conventional American politics.

              © Bernard F. Swain PhD 2009

#341: Warfare—or Justice?

As Warren Buffet makes the rounds promoting his new book, the old issues re-surface. So I am replaying this post from September 2011:

More than a year before the next presidential elections, the battle lines are already being drawn--and one phrase in the air seems likely to command increasing attention over the next 12 months. That phrase is “class warfare.” It’s a charge already being leveled against people as diverse as President Obama, billionaire Warren Buffett, and Harvard professor Elizabeth Warren. And it strikes me that this phrase offers a timely, even a perfect test-case for Catholic voters.

We Catholics now represent the largest “swing” voting group in the country. In 2004, Catholic John Kerry lost that swing to George W. Bush, but in 2008 Obama won the Catholic majority from John McCain. In both cases, the Catholic vote swung to the winner. So now when we hear talk of “independent voters,” we can think “Catholic voters.” And I like to think this means “independent-minded” as well. I would hope Catholic voters are Catholics first, and party supporters second--that our Catholic values trump party platforms and political preferences.

But it wasn’t so long ago that Catholic voters were largely working class, and many of them knew class warfare up close and personal (think “No Irish Need Apply”). And since the Democratic Party was, in the public’s eye, the workers’ party, Catholics were often bloc Democratic voters. In 1960 JFK won 80% of the Catholic vote.

Since then, Catholics have changed their class profile, emerging as among the best-educated and best-paid groups in America. The class profile of the two major parties has also changed, so it’s understandable if Catholics get confused about the issues and struggle to link their faith to their vote. It’s no longer as simple as checking the ballot for (D) or (R).

And when people start talking of “class warfare,” that makes matters even more confusing. It’s a serious charge, and demands a serious response. To get the clarity informed voting requires, we need to ask two things: What does class warfare mean? What should we think about it?

“Class warfare” sounds a lot like “class struggle,” the Marxist label for the process of workers wresting the means of production from the owners. But in today’s U.S. politics, “class warfare” has become a code word, like “socialism,” for any proposal to redistribute wealth within the population, especially through government action and taxation. It’s not about the workers seizing control of factories and companies, it’s about how much of their personal wealth rich Americans get to keep.

So what are the facts about the distribution of wealth in the U.S.? And what does our Catholic faith tradition have to say about it?

Frankly, the facts are surprisingly simple and obvious. For the last 40 years, the U.S. gap between rich and poor has steadily grown, because real wages for most have failed to match inflation, while the wealthiest Americans have enjoyed soaring dividends, salaries, and bonuses. The U.S. bishops, a dozen years into this trend, were already expressing concern in 1983:

Our economy is marked by a very uneven distribution of wealth and income. For example, it is estimated that 28% of the total net wealth is held by the richest 2% of families in the U.S. The top 10% holds 57% of the net wealth. If homes and other real estate are excluded, the concentration of ownership of financial wealth is even more glaring. In 1983, 54% of the total net financial assets were held by 2% of all families, those whose annual income is over $125,000. Eighty-six percent of these assets were held by the top 10% of all families.-- (US Bishops Economic Justice For All [EJA] #183)

By 2010, the situation was even worse, as the gap just kept growing, according to a UC Berkeley analysis:

“In the economic expansion of 2002-2007, the top 1% captured two thirds of income growth.”As others have pointed out, the average wage of Americans, adjusting for inflation, is lower than it was in the 1970s. The minimum wage, adjusting for inflation, is lower than it was in the 1950s…On the other hand, billionaires have never had it better. --http://integralcatholicsocialteachings.blogspot.com/2009/08/income-inequality-worst-since-1917.html

Is anyone who criticizes this trend engaging in “class warfare”? I suppose that is mainly a question of definitions, but let’s suppose we accept “class warfare” as the label for a debate about income distribution, income inequality, and income redistribution? In that case, two things stand out.

One, there are fighters on both sides: those defending the poor, and those defending the wealthy. Second, there seem to be two sets of rules. Those on the “poor” side are attacking the behavior and special treatment the wealthy get (Warren Buffett called it “coddling”) to urge a change in the status quo. But the “wealthy” side has been attacking the character of the poor as a way of blocking any change.

Thus one TV commentator describes this as a war of the “productive classes” attacked by the “moocher classes.” John Stossel likewise sees a conflict between the “makers” and the “takers.” Another pundit refers to welfare recipients as “parasites.” Nebraska Atty. General John Bruning compares “stupid welfare recipients” to scavenging “raccoons.” Ann Coulter argues that the U.S. welfare system creates “generations of utterly irresponsible animals.” Even warfare has rules, but so far only one side is playing fair.

So given the facts about U.S. wealth and the way people are fighting over it, what are Catholic voters to think? Once again, the answer is surprisingly straightforward. In a word: Catholic Social Doctrine has consistently opposed wide income gaps between rich and poor, and has consistently approved actions to redistribute wealth. Leo XIII first set this position in 1891, and he was seconded in 1931 by Pius XI:

Each class, then, must receive its due share, and the distribution of created goods must be brought into conformity with the demands of the common good and social justice. For every sincere observer realizes that the vast difference between the few who hold excessive wealth and the many who live in destitution constitute a grave evil in modern society-- (Quadragesimo Anno #58).

Vatican Council II (1962-1965) repeated the same basic position:

Excessive economic and social inequalities within the one human family, between individuals or between peoples, give rise to scandal, and are contrary to social justice, to equity, and to the dignity of the human person, as well as to peace within society and at the international level--(Gaudiam Et Spes #29).

This position reflects a main principle of Catholic social teaching: “The Universal Destination of Material Goods,” and this combines with another principle, the “Preferential Option for the Poor,” as the U.S. Bishops explained in 1983:

As individuals and as a nation, therefore, we are called to make a fundamental "option for the poor". The obligation to evaluate social and economic activity from the viewpoint of the poor and the powerless arises from the radical command to love one's neighbor as one's self. Those who are marginalized and whose rights are denied have privileged claims if society is to provide justice for all. This obligation is deeply rooted in Christian belief.-- (EJA #87)

These two principles establish “Catholic” economic priorities that many Catholics have never been taught:

The needs of the poor take priority over the desires of the rich; the rights of workers over the maximization of profits; the preservation of the environment over uncontrolled industrial expansion; the production to meet social needs over production for military purposes.-- (EJA #94)

This leads to a clear Catholic mandate to support changes, even government policies, that redistribute wealth:

Authentic economic well-being is pursued also by means of suitable social policies for the redistribution of income which, taking general conditions into account, look at merit as well as at the need of each citizen.--(The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Catholic Church #303)

Does this mean the Catholic Church has been waging “class warfare” since 1891? I think not. Instead, I agree with the U.S. Bishops in saying:

The "option for the poor," therefore, is not an adversarial slogan that pits one group or class against another. Rather it states that the deprivation and powerlessness of the poor wounds the whole community. The extent of their suffering is a measure of how far we are from being a true community of persons. (EJA #88)

From the Catholic viewpoint, this is not class warfare; this is a fight for justice. And, as Pope Benedict XVI proclaimed in his very first encyclical, God Is Love: “The Church…cannot and must not remain on the sidelines in the fight for justice.”

So each of us must ask ourselves, and even each other, the next question: if the fight for justice is underway, which side are you on?

©Bernard F. Swain PhD 2011

# 83 Freedom’s Façade is Not Enough

A Selection From CrossCurrents Archives to Prepare for Election Day...

We’ve all been duped, from time to time, by Hollywood’s magic. We sit mesmerized by palaces and monuments, spaceships and ships at sea, ancient villages and frontier towns, and even places that exist only on another planet. Sometimes they’re only background pictures, or miniature models—but often they’re full-size sets, mere facades of buildings propped up from behind, beautiful balconies that beckon the hero through an elaborate doorway leading nowhere.

Falling for such facades is part of the make-believe pleasure movies give us, but real life is different. In life, we need to know if an attractive image has any inner life beyond the entryway.

Lately we’ve been hearing “freedom” ringing over our airwaves as repeatedly and rhythmically as the “Hail Mary” at a Rosary meeting. For Americans the word has the sound of sacred truth—who can be against freedom? And when “freedom” is linked to "democracy,” another sacred sound, the call to arms can be irresistible.

So maybe it’s time for some straight talk about freedom. It is an idea that was at the core of Christian faith from the very start. Its meaning and importance have evolved and expanded enormously over the course of Christian history. That history involves Christian theology, ancient and Christian and modern philosophy, varied moral theories, as well as a wide range of political philosophies emerging in recent centuries. That’s all too much to sort through here, but several key points should help get past the rhetoric to the reality:

Freedom is Not an Absolute Value. If everyone does whatever they want, they may be free—but chaos and anarchy are the result. As the old saying goes, my freedom to swing my arms ends at the tip of your nose. Total freedom may be impossible if people are to live together, so restraints are always needed. Iraq offers the perfect current example: until native police can ensure civil order, the freedom people have to commit mayhem and murder will collide with other values: the security and stability Iraq needs.

Freedom is not the Only Value. The American tradition links freedom to the Bill of Rights. But our founders aimed at more than freedom: their slogan “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness” reminds us that securing the rights of all is a balancing act among several sacred values.

The French Revolution touted freedom too, which is why the Statue of Liberty stands in New York Harbor as our oldest ally’s gift to us. But the French balanced “Liberté” with “Egalité” and "Fraternité,” and for more than 200 years the world has acknowledged that all of these, not just liberty, are the “passwords to democracy.” And sometimes those passwords conflict, and then freedom must be compromised. That’s why the pro-life movement knows “freedom to choose” cannot be the only value, if life is thereby jeopardized.

Elections do not produce Freedom. People choosing their own leaders is a good thing, but freedom requires more than that. After all, Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union and Iraq under Saddam all had elections too. If democratic freedom lies in “the consent of the governed,” then people are free only to the extent that they have a voice in all the decisions that govern them: in public policy, in corporate decisions, in the workplace and schools and social organizations and the family and even in the Church.

Choosing which leaders to hire is only a first step toward a real voice in all these areas. Even in America, we have a long way to go before we extend freedom to all areas of our lives—and we’ve been choosing our leaders for a long time (though male landowners have been voting much longer than other males, or females, or blacks).

“Freedom” Can Isolate Us. Often our modern secular culture has redefined “freedom” as a synonym for individual autonomy. To be “free” in this sense means to be left alone, to be unrestrained, to be independent of any obligations, to be subject to no authority except my own. To be “free” means to escape all outside interference—it’s what people mean when they talk about “getting government off our backs.” Carried to the extreme, of course, a “free world” would be a world full of unencumbered individuals who submit to no outside authority and owe each other nothing. This may be “rugged individualism” in its purest form, but it is a far cry from the Christian vision of a world where the golden rule binds us all together as our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers.

Freedom is not just a right.  The rise of modern democratic politics (since England’s Glorious Revolution in 1689) has tended to reduce “Freedom” down to the idea of a human right—the right not to be oppressed. Such “freedom” is merely an external condition that can be legislated by public declarations, and constitutions, and Bills of Rights. In Christian history, this external condition has often been called “formal freedom.”

But Christians have traditionally believed in another kind of freedom, often called “real freedom.” Real freedom isn’t just an external condition or right that can be formally declared, it is a capacity we find within us. Specifically, it is the power to act for the good—not only our own good, but also the good of others.

This goes way beyond freedom from oppression to define a freedom for facing up to life’s tough choices. The very idea of “sin” depends on the recognition that we don’t always make the right choices, even though we are free to do so. Christians have generally believed, in fact, that we humans are incapable of consistently doing the right thing without the help of God. On our own, we haven’t the power, the “freedom for” the choices we should make. But God’s grace is, in Christian faith, the force in our lives that supplies the power we need to do good. That’s why St. Paul says, “For freedom Christ has set us free,” and “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

All this means two things. First, true freedom is much more than we’re led to believe by public leaders. It’s not just something you can produce, like a rabbit from a hat, simply by holding an election or writing a constitution or winning a war. Freedom is not merely a social and political condition we humans create by public acts. It is a moral and spiritual capacity that god creates within each of us.

Second, as people of faith, we cannot sell freedom short, even if others do. Our first instincts are right—freedom is a sacred truth. But God doesn’t offer us freedom for nothing, or just so we can be independent from others. God expects us to respond to his grace, to cooperate with the power he’s given us, to use our power to do his will. If we treat freedom as mere independence or autonomy, we squander that gift and insult its divine giver.

How do we honor the giver? By seeing past the political facade of freedom to its spiritual interior. Popes Leo XIII and Pius XII taught that our mission to re-form the world according to God's plan relies on three spiritual forces: truth, justice, and love. In the early 1960s, John XXIII added a fourth spiritual force: freedom.

So, as Americans we should see freedom as the partner of “Life” and “The Pursuit of Happiness.” As democratic people, we should set Freedom alongside “Equality” and “Fraternity.” And as people of faith, we should embrace freedom as one of the forces the world needs—along with Truth, Justice, and above all Love—if we are to make our world the kind of place God wills it to become. Then we’ve found the fullness of freedom, well beyond its façade.

© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2005