McCracken's Musings

Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics (part 6): Restraint and Religious Liberty

2010-10-25T13:03:00.000-07:00

Up to this point in this series I have done my best to represent Eberle's perspective on the role of religious conviction in liberal politics. I am now at the point when I begin to lay out my own take on Eberle's argument. These posts have been lengthy, so I'll reiterate Eberle's argument in brief. Eberle affirms:

[A] citizen has an obligation sincerely and conscientiously to pursue a widely convincing secular rationale for her favored coercive laws, but she doesn't have an obligation to withhold support from a coercive law for which she lacks a widely convincing secular rationale. (10)

In relating his thesis to the claims of justificatory liberalism, Eberle wants to affirm the ideal of conscientious engagement-- all citizens have a moral duty to pursue reasons behind these policies that they can reasonably expect other citizens to accept--while denying the doctrine of restraint--citizens should restrain themselves from supporting coercive laws for which secular (or, in some accounts, public) reasons are unavailable.

Eberle's book is characterized by a remarkable depth of insight and organization. Especially important is his discussion of differing accounts of public reason, a topic that deserves more attention than I can give it here. There is a lot that one can commend in his book, but his conclusion still strikes me as flawed. To pinpoint my main concern, it will help to clarify a two more basic questions that informs the distinction Eberle rightly draws between conscientious engagement and restraint. The ideal of conscientious engagement bears upon the question of how we should engage other citizens when discussing public policy. Does respect entail anything as to how we engage other citizens? Eberle says yes; we should do so with openness and generosity. We should be honest about the principle reasons for our support of a policy. We should pursue reasons that other citizens, especially those with whom we disagree about matters like religion, can accept. We should listen to the counterclaims of our compatriots. Eberle's account of conscientious engagement is commendable; there is little to disagree with here.

The doctrine of restraint, however, bears upon a very different question, a question that Eberle doesn't directly address in his book: Does respect entail anything about the kinds of policies that citizens support? Are there some policies that are by their very nature disrespectful toward those who are unwillingly coerced? Advocates of restraint believe that liberal democratic respect places limits on the range of policies that citizens can justifiably support (i.e. any policy that lacks public justification falls outside the limits of what citizens ought to support). Eberle, however, places no limit on the range of policies that citizens may support--i.e. what citizens actually support is inconsequential to the question of respect--as long as how citizens support these policies lives up to the ideal of conscientious engagement. Respect, in short, only pertains to the manner by which we engage citizens, not the content of the policies that we advocate.

I may well be overstating Eberle's position here. A plausible alternative might be to say that respect does entail limits on policies that can be supported in a liberal democracy but that public justification is irrelevant to these limits. Eberle seems to move in this direction early in his book when he says,

"I believe and will assume throughout this book, that a responsible citizen in a liberal democracy adhere to characteristic liberal institutions and practices. Of particular importance, I believe, and will assume throughout this book, that a responsible citizen will affirm the right to religious freedom. But from the fact that a responsible citizen will adhere to liberal commitments, nothing at all follows about his reasons for those commitments and, in particular, whether he has, or needs a public justification for those commitments" (59).

Eberle's comment delimits the range of policies that reasonable (and, one might add, respectful) citizens may advocate. Policies that are inherently discriminatory, that reject characteristic liberal institutions and practices, or that deny religious freedom, are out of bounds. What is not out of bounds, however, are policies that simply lack public justification.

But here is where I see the principle problem that Eberle's argument faces. On the one hand he wants to affirm that all reasonable citizens will affirm distinctively liberal commitments such as the right to religious freedom. At the same time he also wants to affirm that reasonable citizens may advocate policies premised solely on distinctive religious beliefs not shared by other citizens. But it seems to me quite possible to frame the doctrine of restraint as a natural outgrowth of a liberal conception of religious freedom. My argument proceeds as follows:

(Premise 1) Respect entails that responsible citizens affirm the right to religious freedom;
(Premise 2) Policies premised solely on the religious convictions of some citizens--that is, policies for which there is no compelling secular or public justification--infringe on the right to religious freedom of dissenting citizens.
(Conclusion) Therefore respect requires that responsible citizens not support policies premised solely on the religious convictions of some citizens.

The word solely is important in (2) and (3), above. My point here is not that respect requires that religious citizens bracket religious convictions. I believe that religious citizens, like their nonreligious compatriots, should be free to bring any reasons that inform their support for a coercive public policy. My concern is to rule out support for policies that are lacking any sort of public/secular justification (note: I am aware that I keep blurring the important distinction between "secular" and "public," which I hope to come back to in a future post). Along with other public reason liberals, I believe religious citizens are free to support public policies on the basis of their deeply held religious beliefs. Like other public reason liberals, however, I believe that religious citizens ought not to support coercive policies on the basis of religious beliefs alone. My argument, in short, is that policies premised solely on religious beliefs infringe on the religious liberty of those dissenting from these beliefs.

So what might Eberle say in reply to my defense of restraint as an outgrowth of the liberal commitment to religious liberty? It is clear to me that Eberle affirms premise (1), above, so the real point of difference resides in premise (2). While I believe that any policy premised solely on religious conviction infringes on the religious liberty of those who do not share this conviction Eberle simple denies this claim. Having affirmed the presumptive value of religious liberty, Eberle touches only briefly on the meaning of religious liberty, and his discussion is confined to an endnote (#28, pg. 353):

"I take no stand on the understanding of religious freedom a citizen ought to adopt: I take there to be reasonable differences of opinion among good liberal citizens both on what constitutes religious freedom and about the implications of that right for specific issues. Of course, I am committed to the claim that a citizen who supports his favored coercive laws solely on the basis of his religious commitments doesn't violate his compatriots' right to religious freedom--he isn't imposing his religious commitments on them in a way that violates their religious freedom. And I take it to be clear that he doesn't: that a citizen (or a majority of citizens) supports, say, a flat tax solely on religious grounds does not transmute the flat tax into a religious imposition. Given that, on any reasonable understanding of the matter, the state appropriately taxes its citizens--given that taxation falls under the legitimate jurisdiction of the state--support for a flat tax solely on religious grounds doesn't count as a violation of religious freedom."

From my perspective the flat tax example falls flat, but I'm almost out of time today, so rather than continuing down this path I'll pick up with my argument in my next post. Currently I've got my graduate assistant helping me pull together resources that discuss philosophical, historical, and theological conceptions of religious liberty, which will hopefully inform my own argument in which the concept figures heavily.

Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics (part 5): Why Restraint?

2010-10-12T13:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a few weeks since I've written anything, in large part because teaching and grading have consumed a lot of my work time. In my last post I described some plausible reasons to reject the doctrine of restraint (see my earlier posts for a description of the doctrine). In this post I intend to lay out two arguments for the doctrine of restraint. While justificatory liberals share a common commitment to public justification and the doctrine of restraint, there is no consensus about what these commitments entail. Some arguments for restraint are more plausible than others, or so I would argue--admittedly, Eberle finds all arguments for restraint unconvincing. The two I present today, while not exhaustive, illustrate the reasons why liberal scholars intuit restraint as an outgrowth of the commitment to public justification as well as Eberle's response.

Let's start with Lawrence Solum's argument, from his 1990 article in the Depaul Law Review entitled "Faith and Justice." Eberle presents the logic of Solum's argument as follows:

Premise 1: "Society should respect the freedom and equality of citizens."
Premise 2: "Respecting the freedom and equality of citizens requires the giving of reasons that allow one's fellows to accept the government action as reasonable."
Conclusion: "Each citizen ought to articulate publicly accessible reasons in support of her favored coercive laws."

The implication of premise 2 is that when a citizen fails to offer public reasons (i.e. reasons that other citizens actually accept as reasonable) to her compatriots she demonstrates disrespect. Respect entails that we actually give reasons that other citizens can accept. Thus, if we cannot offer reasons that other citizens find reasonable we should restrain ourselves for supporting a coercive policy.

Is Solum's argument convincing? Eberle points to a basic flaw in the argument. The implication of the argument seems to be that if a religious citizen pursues public justification but fails to find adequate reasons that other citizens actually accept then he should restrain himself. This is surely inadequate. There are circumstances where even public reasons won't convince other citizens of the rightness of a public policy. Eberle agrees with Solum that religious citizens should pursue public justification, but pursuit doesn't entail that I will be successful in convincing other citizens. There is a difference between a vision of respect that requires citizens to pursue public justification and one that requires us to be successful in publicly justifying a policy. The later vision seems too strong; sometimes even public reasons don't offer a basis for consensus.

More plausible in my view is Robert Audi's defense of restraint. Audi argues for the principle of secular rationale: a citizen "has a prima facie obligation not to advocate or support any law or public policy that restricts human conduct, unless [she] has, and is willing to offer, adequate secular reason for this advocacy or support (say for [her] vote)" (quote in Eberle, 134). Audi uses a role-reversal argument to defend his version of restraint. For us to treat other citizens as equally valuable we should be willing to reverse roles with them. We should be willing to subject ourselves to the same constraints to which we would subject other citizens. The role-reversal argument applies directly to the idea of restraint: "If the only reasons that move me are religious, and if I would not want to be coerced on the basis of religious reasons playing a like role in someone with a conflicting religious perspective, I would want to abstain from coercion" (Eberle, 135). Eberle presents as an example this hypothetical case to religiously-minded citizens who wish to impose coercive public policies solely on the basis of their religious beliefs:

"[O]ne might ask the religious voters in question whether they would accept comparable restrictions of their conduct . . . on the basis of coercive legislation protecting the dandelion as a sacred species or prohibiting miniskirts and brief bathing suits as irreverent" (Eberle, 136).

If we can imagine for a moment a religious group pressing for a public policy prohibiting the mowing of lawns when dandelions are in bloom, Audi's point should be clear. Citizens who do not believe dandelions to be sacred would feel justifiably upset at the imposition of a law premised solely on this religious belief. Role reversal thus entails that we not impose coercive policies premised solely on our own religious beliefs not shared by other citizens.

I find Audi's argument more plausible than Solum's. In reply, Eberle agrees that as a citizen he would be unhappy about a coercive law that prohibited him from mowing his lawn. He argues that some of his resentment would stem from the lack of rationale justification for the belief in the sacredness of dandelions, but setting aside the question about the rationality of such a belief, Eberle rejects the idea that his resentment of the law has anything to do with the religious foundations used to justify it, and he denies that Audi offers a convincing case for the doctrine of restraint:

"The fact that I'm forcibly inhibited from achieving my aims is a natural source of frustration, anger, and perhaps even resentment. . . . Does this provide the advocate of restraint with the opening necessary to drive home the essential point? I don't believe it does. The frustration, anger, and resentment I'd feel if subject to a law that forbids me to kill dandelions seems to me a consequence not of the fact that my compatriots support that law on the basis of their religious convictions alone, but of the content of that law (as well as of the coercion employed to secure my obedience to that law). It's the coercive law itself that frustrates and infuriates me, not my compatriots' reasons for supporting that law. The imposition of that law inhibits me from attaining ends I very much want to pursue; as a consequence, it's entirely natural and appropriate for me to feel frustration and anger at being so constrained. But I don't see that my reaction has anything in particular to do with my compatriots' willingness to support that law on religious grounds" (138-139).

This post is already getting long, so let me leave readers with a question: is Eberle right that the resentment that we experience when subject to a law with which we disagree is no different when based on exclusively religious grounds? My sense is that there is some difference between a law with which I disagree that can be justified publicly (e.g. a law establishing a flat consumption tax) and one with which I disagree for which public grounds are unavailable (e.g. a law that hinders me on the basis of religious premises that I do not share). While I may object to both laws, my objections are not synonymous. I would object to the flat consumption tax on the basis of other public reasons that I find more convincing. It's difficult to see how one could even begin arguing against a public policy premised solely on religious grounds that I do not share, especially when those grounds are the sole evidentiary basis for the policy. My resentment is heightened by the lack of recourse.

In my next post I intend to lay out in brief my own contribution to this debate, an alternative argument for the doctrine of restraint that draws from the ideal of religious liberty.

Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics (part 4): What's Wrong With Restraint?

2010-09-24T12:54:00.000-07:00

In my last post I described the doctrine of restraint, a doctrine that is basic to justificatory liberalism but which Christopher Eberle rejects. In short, Eberle believes that once religious citizens have conscientiously engaged other citizens they do not need to restrain themselves from supporting coercive public policies. Religious citizens may demonstrate respect toward other citizens even as they support public policies solely on the basis of their religious beliefs. In contrast, justificatory liberals believe that religious citizens ought to restrain themselves from supporting public policies that they are unable to justify publicly.

But why is restraint so controversial? Liberals have long valued religious liberty as a basic matter of political justice, and at first glance the doctrine of restraint flows naturally from this commitment; to impose coercive policies solely on the basis of religious premises conflicts with this ideal, or so justificatory liberals might argue (Eberle, of course, disagrees with the premise that policies that flow solely from religious premises inherently violate religious liberty). The seminal political philosophers John Rawls speaks well in this vein. The doctrine of restraint flows first from the reality of reasonable pluralism, the fact that our society consists of a diversity of incommensurable, reasonable conceptions of the good--for a liberal democracy, "the normal result of its culture of free institutions" (Rawls, "The Idea of Public Reason Revisited," 573 in Collected Papers). Because citizens are fundamentally divided about their respective value commitments, it behooves citizens of a liberal democracy to refrain from supporting policies that infringe upon the deeply-held comprehensive beliefs of other reasonable citizens (Rawls, along with other liberal democrats, precludes unreasonable comprehensive beliefs from the mix, which seems right even as it raises the question about what qualifies any belief system as "reasonable"). As Rawls says, "Our exercise of political power is proper only when we sincerely believe that the reasons we would offer for our political actions--were we to state them as government officials--are sufficient, and we also reasonably think that other citizens might also reasonably accept those reasons" ("Public Reason Revisited," 578). The point is that political power in a liberal democracy needs to be united with reasons that can be justified to citizens who do not accept our deeply held beliefs; We need to pursue "public reasons." Restraint is simply the corollary of this commitment. Because the liberal citizen needs to find reasons that may persuade citizens who do not share her religious beliefs, when the liberal citizen is unable to find such reasons she should restrain herself from supporting the policy.

So why does Eberle find the doctrine of restraint so problematic? Surprisingly, Eberle never enumerates his reasons for objecting to restraint, but his concerns are implicit in several places in his book. Most importantly, Eberle believes that the doctrine of restraint puts some religious citizens in an untenable position. At least some religious citizens take obedience to God as the principle mandate for all of life, and for them the prospect of restraining themselves from supporting policies consistent with this obedience will be psychologically "doubtful." Eberle worries that the doctrine of restraint, along with other social dynamics internal to modern liberal democracies, encourages citizens to privatize their religious commitments, to treat them as mere lifestyle choices of little public consequence (144). For citizens who believe that God's will is an overriding concern for human life, the doctrine of restraint entails that they compromise this deeply held conviction in order to participate in public policy discourse, or that they simply abandon public life altogether to remain faithful to God.

Second, Eberle believes that the doctrine of restraint itself lacks any sort of rational justification (i.e. for reasons that we will examine later, he is not persuaded by arguments like that of Rawls, above). Thus, to impose it on religious citizens is itself a violation of the norm of respect. The doctrine of restraint embodies the very browbeating that concerns secular critics of religious citizens (150-151).

Third, Eberle also believes that justificatory liberals have failed to offer a defensible account of what public reason is that at the same time (1) non-arbitrary, and (2) capable of precluding religious reasons without also precluding reasons basic to rudimentary political discourse. But the doctrine of restraint requires some account of what qualifies as a public reason. Because justificatory liberals have yet to offer a defensible definition of public reason that responds effectively to these criticisms, the doctrine of restraint exemplifies one way that non-idealized citizens simply express their own disagreements with one another.

While I'm describing what Eberle believes is wrong with restraint, I'll close with a fourth concern, expressed most forcefully by Jeffrey Stout in his book Democracy and Tradition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004). In chapter 3 of his book, Stout responds at length to Rawls's argument for public reason. In his later work, Rawls argues that religious citizens may introduce reasons from their reasonable comprehensive doctrines, religious and otherwise, "provided that in due course public reasons, given by a reasonable political conception, are presented sufficient to support whatever the comprehensive doctrines are introduced to support" (Political Liberalism, li-lii). As Stout observes, this language makes it sound as if religious reasons serve the function of political IOU's, with cash payment to be proffered at some later point. Stout observes that by this standard Christian abolitionists and Martin Luther King Jr. themselves barely qualify; did they ever fulfill this proviso (Democracy and Tradition, 69)? For Stout, as for Eberle, the doctrine of restraint too quickly abandons more dialogical approaches to public discourse that entail giving and listening to one another's reasons, stepping into the shoes of the other, conscientiously engaging other citizens.

As I stated in part 1, I think Eberle is wrong here, but I'm nearing the end of this post. In part 5 I will present one of the stronger arguments for the doctrine of restraint and will explore Eberle's argument against it.

Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics (Part 3): The Doctrine of Restraint

2010-09-14T13:54:00.000-07:00

Today I turn my attention to the major issue at the heart of Chris Eberle's book Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics. In my earlier posts I noted that there is a lot about which Eberle and other liberal democratic scholars agree concerning the obligations of respectful citizenship. The ideal of conscientious engagement, which I reviewed in my last post, well summarizes the overlap between Eberle and justificatory liberals. Everyone agrees that democratic respect requires that we sympathetically engage other citizens, trying to view the world from their perspective, seeking out reasons that we believe might reasonably persuade them about the justness of the coercive policies that we support.

But here is the rub: justificatory liberals believe that respect requires more than conscientious engagement. Respect also requires that we restrain ourselves from supporting laws solely on the basis of our comprehensive (e.g. religious) beliefs. For justificatory liberals--scholars like John Rawls, Charles Larmore, Robert Audi, Stephen Macedo, Amy Gutmann, Lawrence Solum, and many others--respect requires public justification of coercion (54). The definitions of public justification and its corollary, public reason, are notoriously complex (and there is notable diversity among justificatory liberals about the proper understanding of the terms), but the general idea is that coercive policies need to be justified on bases that other citizens can accept from within their own comprehensive belief systems. If citizens are unable to find reasons that qualify as public in this sense than it is disrespectful for them to continue advocating the policy.

A lot needs to be said about public reason/justification, but I'm setting this aside for a later post. To get closer to the doctrine of restraint, I want us to consider the case of citizen X once again, a deeply committed religious believer whose religious beliefs motivate him to support the enactment of policy Z. Citizen X's religious faith is fundamental to his support of policy Z. Absent his religious faith, in fact, citizen X realizes that he would feel no real need to advocate for the policy. Nevertheless, citizen X holds fast to his religious belief, and he expresses strong public support for policy Z. What does respect require? For justificatory liberals and for Eberle alike, citizen X needs to realize that many of the citizens who will be affected by policy Z do not share his religious beliefs. He needs to take the concerns of these citizens seriously. He needs to respect them by earnestly seeking reasons for the policy that they might find acceptable (even when those reasons are not his own primary reasons for supporting the policy). He needs to engage in imminent critique, finding ways that they might be able to support policy Z from within their own reasonable comprehensive belief system. In short, he must conscientiously engage them.

But what happens if public justification fails? What if citizen X can find no public reasons capable of convincing reasonable citizens? What if the only reasons available to citizen X are those that emerge from his deeply-held religious beliefs? Justificatory liberals say that citizen X should no longer support the public policy. To continue to advocate for policy Z would show disrespect to other citizens. Respect requires that citizen X restrain himself from supporting the policy. Eberle disagrees. Eberle believes that as long as John makes an earnest effort to pursue public justification he has exercised his moral obligations and may continue to push for the enactment of policy Z, even solely on the basis of his religious beliefs.

In my next post I'll give some explanation about why Eberle believes that the doctrine of restraint to be flawed.

Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics (Part 2): The Ideal of Conscientious Engagement

2010-09-07T11:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I posted an introduction to the major questions that Chris Eberle explores in his book Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics. I indicated that in my next post I would summarize Eberle's case against the doctrine of restraint, but it has become clear to me that it would be better for me to precede this with a summary of what Eberle's position shares in common with justificatory liberalism (JL). Thus, I'll reserve discussion of the doctrine of restraint for a future post. Today I'll talk about the "ideal of conscientious engagement."

Let's imagine citizen X, a religious person deeply concerned by the direction that culture has taken (note: I'm purposefully avoiding language like "moral decline" or "social injustice" so as to not suggest that citizen X is by nature conservative or liberal. The exact issues of concern are not relevant to the point I'm illustrating). Citizen X feels strongly about a variety of issues, and his religious faith inspires him to speak out on these issues in order to steer public policy to address these problems. But citizen X is faced with a choice about how, precisely, he speaks out about these issues. Citizen X could, for example, simply offer zealous defenses of public policies that flow from his deeply held beliefs irrespective of the protests of citizens who do not share these beliefs. He could strive to martial political power so that policies are enacted consistent with his deeply held beliefs. He could blithely ignore the objections of non-believers, dismissing their reasons as evidence of their heterodoxy or moral depravity.

Liberal theorists would treat this sort of posturing as a quintessential example of disrespect. To ignore the voice of other citizens who do not share one's deeply held religious beliefs is illiberal; we are being bad citizens when we do so. Fortunately, other postures are available to citizen X. Citizen X could choose to conscientiously engage other citizens who do not share his deeply held beliefs. Eberle, with justificatory liberals, argues that conscientious engagement is critical to meaning of respect in a liberal democracy. Conscientious engagement entails some constraints on how we engage other citizens. Eberle highlights 6 constraints that make up the ideal of conscientious engagement. To demonstrate respect for other citizens, Citizen X will do the following (104-105):

(1) She will pursue a high degree of rational justification for the claim that a favored coercive policy is morally appropriate.
(2) She will withhold support from a given coercive policy if she can't acquire a sufficiently high degree of rational justification for the claim that that policy is morally appropriate.
(3) She will attempt to communicate to her compatriots her reasons for coercing them.
(4) She will pursue public justification for her favored coercive policies.
(5) She will listen to her compatriots' evaluation of her reasons for her favored coercive policies with the intention of learning from them about the moral (im)propriety of those policies.
(6) She will not support any policy on the basis of a rationale that denies the dignity of her compatriots.

The ideal of conscientious engagement points to the critical role of discourse in liberal democratic politics. Because laws are coercive it is important that citizens remain open to the reasons offered by other citizens about the merits of public policies, especially those citizens with whom we disagree. In public discourse respect requires that we pursue reasons that we can reasonably expect other citizens will accept, even when we disagree with one another about our comprehensive beliefs (Note: Eberle's appeal to public justification in (4), above, is problematic in relation to the overall logic of his book, in which one of the central claims is that there is no way of establishing a coherent, defensible account of what qualifies as public reason. I hope to address this in a future post).

I'll conclude this post with a concrete example that will clarify what it means to live up to the ideal of conscientious engagement. Public policy pertaining to same-sex relations stands as one of the more controversial public policy issues today. One could well imagine religiously motivated citizens--Christians who believe that same-sex relationships are against natural and divine law, for example--calling for the repeal of laws that forbid discrimination against same sex couples, or advocating for the reestablishment of sodomy laws that punish consensual same-sex activity. Let's imagine that Citizen X is a religiously-motivated citizen of this sort. He is morally opposed to gay marriage. He is against public policies that in his view legitimize same-sex sexual activity (e.g. anti-discrimination laws that protect gay and lesbian individuals), and he laments the invalidation of sodomy laws by the 2003 Supreme Court ruling, Lawrence V. Texas . According to Eberle, the ideal of conscientious engagement requires that citizen X make an earnest effort to communicate the merits of these policies to citizens who do not share his religious beliefs. Citizen X needs to take seriously that the coercive laws that he supports will cause no small amount of distress for those citizens who do not share his beliefs. Thus, he must
seek reasons that these other citizens might reasonably accept, even when these reasons are not the primary reasons why he himself advocates these laws. Citizen X must adopt a posture of openness to the counterclaims of other citizens. On these matters Eberle's vision of liberal democratic respect coincides with that of justificatory liberals.

This is another long post, so I'll close with a cliffhanger. Eberle and justificatory liberals agree about the importance of conscientious engagement. But what does respect require when public reasons are unavailable or evidentially insufficient to justify a public policy? On this point Eberle parts company with JL. I'll turn my attention to this in my next post.

Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics

2010-09-06T13:40:00.000-07:00

About a year between posts--I'm feeling sheepish! I'm relaunching my blog, principally because I need a space to get some ideas out on paper, and I find that blog writing is a good way for me to think through things with comments and questions from others. I'm writing a paper this Fall that explores the role of religious conviction in liberal politics. My paper is a reply to Chris Eberle's recent book, entitled (appropriately) Religious Conviction in Liberal Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). Eberle offers a dense, tightly argued case against what he calls the "doctrine of restraint." While I find parts of Eberle's argument commendable, I disagree with his main conclusion. My paper is an attempt to rebut his argument, to reaffirm the doctrine of restraint as an important feature of liberal democratic discourse.

Eberle raises two fundamental questions at the heart of current debates about religious conviction in liberal democratic politics:

A. "[I]s it morally appropriate for a citizen . . . to support his favored laws on the basis of his religious convictions?
B. "[I]s it morally appropriate . . . [for him] to support his favored laws on the basis of religious convictions alone?" (8)

The United States has many citizens possessing wide-ranging, incommensurable religious (and non-religious) beliefs. Many religious citizens feel very strongly about these beliefs, and understandably these beliefs inform perceptions of issues on issues like abortion, same-sex marriage, stem cell research, and the like. But to the degree that we are divided about comprehensive beliefs, what role should these beliefs play in informing public policy debates? Laws are coercive; they punish, they limit, and they threaten the sanction of the state when they are broken. Is it appropriate for citizens to support laws on the basis of their religious beliefs, even knowing that these beliefs are not shared by other citizens?

Many liberal theorists say "Yes" to question A. There is nothing disrespectful about religious citizens allowing their religious beliefs to inform their attitudes about public policy. How could it be otherwise? More controversial, however, is B. Justificatory liberals--theorists like John Rawls, Charles Larmore, Bruce Ackerman, Robert Audi, and Amy Gutmann--argue that supporting favored laws solely on the basis of one's religious beliefs is morally inappropriate (i.e. they say NO to question B). We disrespect other citizens when we advocate coercive laws solely on the basis of religious beliefs that they do not accept. We are bad citizens when we do so. According to justificatory liberals, respect in a liberal democracy entails that we offer public justification for coercive laws. We need to find public reasons that other citizens can accept, reasons that do not require them to abandon their own reasonable comprehensive beliefs.

Debates about the role of religious reasons in public discourse are not new, but Eberle does an uncommon job of injecting new life into the conversation with his incisive, balanced description of justificatory liberalism (JL), the principle opponent that he critiques in this book. JL actually encompasses a range of liberalisms that are often treated separately (e.g. Rawlsian liberalism and deliberative democratic theory qualify as forms of JL). Eberle identifies two claims at the heart of justificatory liberalism:

"(1) the Principle of Pursuit: a citizen should pursue public justification for his favored coercive laws.
(2) the Doctrine of Restraint: a citizen should not support any coercive laws for which he lacks a public justification." (68)

Justificatory liberals affirm both (1) and (2). Eberle, in contrast, affirms (1) but denies (2). He agrees with JL that citizens must pursue public justification for favored coercive laws, but he believes that once a citizen has exercised that burden that good citizens may continue to support coercive laws when public reasons are unavailable or public justification unsuccessful. My paper, in short, is meant to reaffirm the importance of (2) and to respond to Eberle's critique of justificatory liberalism.

This post has gotten long. In my next post I'll lay out Eberle's case against the doctrine of restraint.

Reading Keynes

2009-09-10T13:23:00.000-07:00

With all of the debate circulating about the economic crisis I've decided to become an economist. No, not really, but I admit that some of the intense conversations I've had with colleagues across the political spectrum have made me wish that I was more conversant in real economic theory, not the tired half truths that I find all of us spouting. I am no expert in economic theory, but I find myself wanting to pretend that I'm one quite often online. I've decided that instead of continuing to add to the pabulum of cliches and witty retorts about the inner workings of free market, the diabolical machinations of "socialists," and the ethics of taxing citizens to pay for Wall Street bailouts that I'd step back and do some more reading before proceeding with the conversation.

Enter John Maynard Keynes. As I've said, I'm not an economist, but I have read enough to know that Keynes figures as a seminal figure in 20th century. Much of the recent debate about the U.S. response to the economic crisis centers on the relative merits of Keynesian economics. Paul Krugman's recent article in the New York Times Magazine draws attention to the rift that, generally speaking, has divided economists in the central United States (Chicago, etc.) from their west and east coast colleagues (the Ivys, etc.) over Keynes's insight into the way that markets work and the role of governmental response to recessions. An economics professor at my university recommended a few books for me to read, but I decided (perhaps against my better judgment, as it were) to eschew some of the more recent laymen's introductions to economics for Keynes himself. Yesterday I picked up a copy of Keynes's The General Theory of Employment Interest and Money (1935). My goal is to work slowly through the book in order to get a better understanding of what Keynes himself is saying. Could be slow going indeed; I'm not conversant in all of the language of the economics guild, but I'm hoping that my wading through deep waters won't be for not. Perhaps my readers might have something to gain as well. More to come!

On Patriotism

2009-02-03T11:13:00.000-08:00

My, how quickly good intentions slip away! I intended to submit regularly to my blog, but pressing duties--classes, family, church, Steeler football, etc.--have interfered with my regular writing. This week I've been thinking a lot about how I might use my blog constructively to further some of my academic work. I've found it difficult to set aside time this year to my academic research, which I suppose is par for the course in one's first year of teaching, but not a pattern that I want to continue in the coming years. People often ask me what topics I enjoy studying. I'm a serial academician with all sorts of interests, but post-dissertation most of my personal reflection has revolved around the topic of patriotism. I'm in the preliminary stage of developing a project that examines the "ethics of patriotism," so to speak, in the Christian tradition. This blog will, I hope, serve as a personal space for me to sound off on what I'm reading and thinking and (if it so happens) to receive comments and questions from anyone who cares to read.

Without intending to write a dissertation in this single entry, I'll do my best to briefly map out what I've been thinking:

(1) It is something of a commonplace in philosophical ethics that the moral perspective entails a universal commitment to the "equality and fraternity of all human beings" (Primoratz, Patriotism (2002), 12). The Stoic ideal of the "citizen of the cosmos," Kantian visions of the "kingdom of ends," and Christian notions of agape as a nonappraisive love unconditionally committed to the wellbeing of the Other instantiate the universalizing posture that permeates ethics in the west. And yet such a posture raises fundamental questions. In a moral vision premised on the idea of equality and universal fraternity what place is there for special obligations and special loyalties? How should we understand the deeply felt sense of connection and the fierce loyalties that are engendered by the narratives and practices of those communities into which we are born? Does the moral posture entail that we transcend these loyalties, keeping them in check lest universal regard devolve into mere self-interest, a concern for our own? Is it even possible to speak of patriotism as a virtue?

(2) A number of books have recently explored some of the questions posed above (Primoratz, Patriotism (2002); Nussbaum, For Love of Country (2002); Nathanson, Patriotism, Morality, and Peace (1993). I plan to engage these books in greater depth in future blog posts. For now I want to pose an idea that is still pretty rough, but one that is helping me gain some leverage in my own mind as I consider the topic. I'm avoiding any sort of cross-cultural analogues, admitting simply that the intuitive vision of family life, duty, and obligation arises out of the experience of western visions of monogamous, nuclear families:

My wife and I have three children whom we love dearly. As a parent to my children, I feel a certain responsibility to provide for their wellbeing. This seems uncontroversial. My children need clothing. They need shelter. They need food. They need a life that is relatively secure, all things considered. I feel very deeply a responsibility to provide for my children's wellbeing. In fact, I feel strongly that I would be failing to fulfill a moral duty if I, a parent in a position to provide for my children's basic needs, failed to do so.

Further, I recognize that there are many other children who have the same needs as my children. There are other children who need shelter, clothing, food, etc. The moral vision described above suggests that I should have equal regard for these children's wellbeing, just as I have regard for my own. And yet, I do not have the same obligations to every child that has these basic needs. I fall short of a fundamental moral duty when I, in a position to provide for my own children, fail to do so. While I might be criticized for my lack of compassion in failing to provide for children not my own, the failure is of a different sort (or so I would argue). I have special obligations to my own children that I do not have to just any child.
Now consider that as my wife and I age that my children and I will eventually reverse roles. When my wife and I are no longer able to take of ourselves our children will have similar responsibilities to those that my wife and I currently have in tending to our children's basic needs. That is, our children--assuming that they have the capacity to do so--would be falling short of moral duty were they to see their aging parents in need and not to respond. To fail to act would involve the shirking of a fundamental moral duty, and this failure would be of a different sort than were they simply to turn a blind eye to the needs of all those other aging parents not their own. My children have special obligations to my wife and me that they do not have to every aging parent.
The last bullet point above is important, because it points to a peculiar feature of the special obligations that I'm describing. While my wife and I may have made a conscious decision to bear our children (this is true for at least 2 of our kids--the third is another story), it cannot be said that our children chose us as parents. One could argue that the autonomous choice of parents to bear children gives rise to the special obligations that we have, but this is not the case when describing why children have special obligations to their parents. Children are born into families not of their own choosing. We grow up in what Michael Walzer calls "involuntary associations" (Walzer, Politics and Passion), communities that shape our moral visions and that are indispensable in forming us as moral agents. My children have special obligations simply by virtue of the fact that they find themselves in this particular family.
I think I need to do more with the foundations of special obligations in the family, but the point is this. If we can acknowledge that children have special obligations to those families into which they are born it raises larger questions about whether or not we have special obligations to those larger (but not universal) communities that are just as involuntary as the family. We are born into overlapping subcultures, neighborhoods, and political communities. For me, the ethics of patriotism--i.e. whether or not the moral life can allow a positive place for special loyalties and obligations--must begin with some reflection on the status of involuntary association as an inevitable feature of human life.

Still pretty rough, ehh? More later . . .

Grieving the Loss of a Literary Giant

2008-10-25T22:04:00.001-07:00

It's been several weeks since the untimely passing of David Foster Wallace, an immensely talented American novelist, essayist, and philosophical everyman. I just finished reading an article recounting Wallace's memorial service, which brought together a pantheon of modern literary giants who recalled his edgy humor, his humanity, and his striking ability to inhabit the lives of those characters he created. Don Delillo speaks well of Wallace's sentences, which "shoot rays of energy in seven directions." The most recent issue of Rolling Stone includes a memorial article written by David Lipsky, excerpt available online.

Wallace suffered for many years with depression, an illness that led him to take his own life. He will be sorely missed, and readers who love brilliant pose, irony, and insightful social commentary can only wonder what essays will go unwritten, what stories untold. In the spirit of the current election season, I urge readers to check out Wallace's 2000 Rolling Stone essay, "The Weasel, Twelve Monkeys, and the Shrub: Seven Days in the Life of the Late, Great John McCain," an essay that despite the title is not an anti-McCain diatribe but a very fair treatment of McCain the Vietnam veteran's failed 2000 presidential campaign.

For those of you curious enough to want to check out Wallace's work, I strongly recommend A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, a collection of some of Wallace's short essay that is accessible and ably demonstrates his vast intellect and incredible prose style. Wallace is best known for his book Infinite Jest, a 1088-page novel (which includes nearly 150 pages of endnotes commenting on the main text, a common feature of Wallace's expansive style). I've gotten halfway through this tome about three times, and I've made it my goal to complete it once I've finished my current book. There are excerpts of Infinite Jest that are incredibly moving, including one character whose eloquent soliloquoy about how it feels to be in the grips of "depression" still haunts me.

Anyway, I hope that some of you might find time to check out Wallace's work.

Christian Charity, Righteous Indignation, and the Current Election Season

2008-09-24T11:40:00.001-07:00

John Mark Hicks is a a good friend of mine, a Lipscomb University professor of theology who also happens to be a former teacher of mine. John Mark has a wonderful blog of which I have quickly become a fan. I've always been impressed with John Mark's moderation, compassion, and his passion for integrating theology and practical ministry. Last night one of John Mark's blog entries stirred my own response. The focus of the blog concerned the recent devolution of political discourse this election season. John Mark rightly calls Christians to find alternative ways of engaging in political conversation that don't rely on stereotyping or demonizing those with whom we disagree. The entry prompted numerous supportive responses from John Mark's readers, mine among them.

At the same time, these days I've become increasingly troubled by the ease with which Christians, in the face of disagreement about important matters, shy away from substantive exchange. It's as if we presume that charity toward one's opponent requires that we simply not bring up issues that we feel deeply about, especially if these issues are in any way political. The general tone of the blog conversation (which in some cases drifted toward calls for simply withdrawing from human politics--as if there is any other kind!) left me uneasy. In the face of intractable political disagreement, it's easy to simply treat politics as corrupt and corrupting and simply eschew political involvement altogether. This is a particular temptation in the Restoration tradition, which has its own unique history borne out Lipscomb's legacy.

I wrote a response, which I've decided to include in my own blog:

John Mark correctly calls us to exhibit Christian humility and charity in our public conversations about politics, a call that seems to me indisputable. I think more work needs to be done, however, to clarify the pragmatics of this call. What do you, John Mark, believe that humility and charity entail in public conversation about matters of dire importance about which we disagree? It seems to me that, aside from the manifest overstatements and sniping that have become par this election season, there is nothing wrong with earnest, zealous disagreement. People like me care passionately about the current election because we believe passionately that we face dire circumstances on many fronts; I suspect those who disagree with me politically feel the same way. The pragmatic question concerns how to discuss these concerns without killing one another or allowing our conversations to devolve into ad hominem attacks.

Further, I think we all should be at least a bit wary of the language of humility and charity in light of recent history. Reading through these posts, I am reminded of an article from the 1963 Christian Chronicle (available in Don Haymes online collection at http://www.mun.ca/rels/restmov/texts/race/haymes34.html). The article reprinted letters from readers speaking about recent calls for desegregation. A few sample quotes from the article strike me as a little too close to some of the disdain expressed in recent posts about “human” politics. The letters to the editor intend to explain why desegregation is something that the church should not get involved with. Maybe those of you who believe that Christians should stay out of human politics can explain how this call is different than the call that segregationists were making in our own tradition almost 50 years ago:

“I have been wondering how long before the Christian papers would quit carrying news of the Church and begin to dabble in World affairs. Some of the large denominations are trying to make headlines by taking sides in the force race issue and our Brethren can’t let them get ahead.

I am fully persuaded that if all publicity was cut off this issue, it would die overnight and we could go back to our task of teaching love rather than hatred. . . .

Would you say the leaders of forced integration are abiding by this law of grace? Are they teaching love or hatred? Phil. 2:3 “Let nothing be done through strife or vain-glory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other[sic] better than themselves.” Is this the motive behind the integration movement?”

The second letter is, in my view, even more striking in that the spirit in which it is written is mild and thoughtful. This is what makes the letter all the more troubling:

“I read the recent issue on the race problem. And, I must say some of those letters were ugly. They didn’t sound right.

Let us hope they were written with the right spirit. I wonder.

Since we are not under a pope or bishop, don’t you think this is something for each congregation to work out for themselves? I do.

I worship with a strong congregation. There are no Negro members. They have a number of congregations of their own. Now if a Negro or more comes to this church, they will be seated wherever there is a vacant seat.

I don’t know what any other congregation will do; that is their problem. This race problem will be worked out if the young preachers don’t get too enthusiastic.

The Lord’s church is not a denomination; therefore, it doesn’t have to make public statements as to where it stands on anything; politics and what not. I don’t want to be pessimistic but the world won’t be converted over night.

The Lord must have had a reason for making some people black. I do not think I am better than a Negro who is Christian. I am not as good as Brother Keeble; he has done so much. It seems that the Negro resents being black. He shouldn’t; God wants him that way. I think he should be happy and be what he is.

This letter is written with sincerity and good will. Best wishes to all.”

Now my claim is not that John Mark or anyone else here is racist or that you would agree with the sentiments of these letters. I think all of us would rightly denounce the idea that desegregation and human equality are “worldly” interests that have no connection to the gospel. But here is the point: to the degree that this inequality was nested within a web of legislative, executive, and judicial institutions and practices it becomes very difficult to imagine a prophetic witness against racial injustice in America without prophetically engaging this web, as MLK did, in spite of white moderates' warnings that he was stirring up too much dissension. That is, nonviolent direct action–street demonstrations, sit-ins, public protests, and direct challenges to unjust laws rooted in racial prejudice–were the witness of the church at the same time that they were thoroughly political. They were also, I might add, perceived as uncivil by some Christian leaders who questioned the charity of such actions.

Why do I bring this up? I do so because it seems to me that all of our calls for humility, charity, and countercultural witness are comfortable words indeed for people like us who live relatively secure lives. I think John Mark is correct to name the political sniping for what it is. I am worried, however, that the general tone of this conversation feeds a disdain for human politics (is there any other kind?) that perpetuates an unfortunate blindness to the systemic realities that contribute to poverty, racial injustice, and environmental decline.

Television that matters

2008-09-23T07:53:00.000-07:00

As an ethicist I always have my eyes out for movies, music, and television shows that offer nuanced perspectives on issues that I regularly explore in my academic work. No show has captured my attention in the last year more than Dexter, a Showtime original series that will soon be entering its third season. The premise: Dexter is a blood-spatter analyst for the Miami police department whose life revolves around investigating violent crime scenes.

The twist: Dexter himself is a serial killer whose inner life is determined by a compulsion to kill.

A further twist: Dexter's adopted father taught Dexter a strict moral code that leads Dexter to channel his compulsion to kill toward those who victimize the innocent.

Dexter is a mass murderer, but his victims are themselves killers, rapists, pedophiles, and those who have slipped through the cracks of the conventional justice system. Dexter is a vigilante, but unlike other vigilantes who populate the American pantheon--consider Batman and Spiderman--the justice he brings is ambiguous indeed. Is Dexter killing his victims out of a deep sense of the gravity of their injustice, or is Dexter rather motivated by his own need to answer his own demons, to "feed the beast," as it were?

The series raises in narrative form a range of questions basic to ethics. Does it matter if Dexter is motivated by his own desire to kill if he lives by a deontological code in which he only kills those who deserve it? What about character? Dexter is a very likable protagonist, but one that lacks real empathy for those around him. Is Dexter a good person who does bad things, or is he a bad person who does good things? What makes a person "bad" or "good?" Do Dexter's traumatic childhood experiences mitigate his culpability for the actions that he performs? Dexter is tailor-made for students of ethics wanting to explore the nature of moral character and agency.

Seasons 1 and 2 of Dexter are currently available on DVD. Be forewarned--the series is not for the faint of heart.

Palin-McCain 2008

2008-09-19T12:56:00.001-07:00

In a remarkable piece of truth telling, Republican VP candidate Sarah Palin flipped the Republican presidential ticket on its head on Thursday in Cedar Rapids, Iowa when she spoke of the "Palin and McCain administration," a mistake compounded on Friday when speaking of McCain as "my running mate" in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Misstatements are bound to occur in any election cycle, though these gaffes come at a poor time for the McCain campaign, with the real candidate trying to escape the large shadow cast by the Alaska governor during the RNC. Truly over the last two weeks this has become the Palin-McCain ticket. This comes as no small delight to religious conservatives who have long been wary of McCain's maverick-pragmatism. James Dobson has already flip-flopped on his refusal to endorse McCain, claiming that he's not been so excited in a candidate since Ronald Reagan--a peculiar thing to say if the "candidate" Dobson is speaking of is McCain. In the eyes of some, it does appear that this is Palin-McCain 2008.

This week McCain has worked to reestablish a shadow of his own. Today, for example, McCain was working hard to defend outsourcing social security in the wake of the recent financial meltdown. While perhaps a reasonable political sell in a time when the fundamentals of the economy are strong (a claim that McCain made in recent weeks), the prospects of such a plan seem bleak in such a time as this.

These are exciting, exciting times.

Welcome Message

2008-09-19T12:56:00.000-07:00

Well, you've happened upon the blog of Vic McCracken, Assistant Professor of Theology and Ethics at Abilene Christian University in Abilene, TX. I created this blog as a forum for my own reflections on things religious, ethical, and political. I've resisted for some time the temptation to blog, a practice that always seemed to me vain and pretentious. Nevertheless, over the last week my occasional status comments on facebook (updating of which may well be even more vain and pretentious than blogging) elicited numerous comments from friends, not all of them complementary. I don't plan to abandon the satirical one-liners that have evoked such flurried responses and defenses, but I finally decided that a blog might be a better place to extend my remarks should the need ever arise. I hope you enjoy reading!