Can Fifty-Seven Percent of the People of Ohio Transform Evil into Good?

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On Tuesday, November 07, 2023, the people of Ohio voted by a margin of 57% to 43% to enshrine the right to abortion in their state constitution. What does this act mean? First, let me be clear right up front: A state possesses no power to transform an immoral activity into a moral one. A state can declare that black is white, up is down, evil is good but it cannot make them so. And a person may engage in an activity that incurs no guilt according to legislated law—or even garners praise—but that incurs profound guilt according to moral law and condemnation according to God’s law. Abortion is profoundly immoral, irresponsible, and sinful. And no rationalization can justify it. But Ohio declared it to be a constitutionally protected right. And that makes it so; that is, it really does make it a constitutionally protected right. But to make use of that humanly invented right is as immoral and sinful today as it has always been. And the divine Judge does not care in the least what the constitution of the State of Ohio asserts.

Why a Constitutional Right?

I am sure I am oversimplifying it. But I see a difference between activities that a state declares (1) illegal (2) obligatory, (3) matters of positive right, and (4) matters it leaves unregulated. In a just state, the legislative authority makes illegal only those activities it considers seriously deleterious to the common good (e.g., armed robbery) or obligatory only those activities it considers necessary to the common good (e.g., paying taxes). The state leaves the vast majority of life’s activities unregulated (4). To leave an area unregulated assumes that no serious threat to the common good is at stake one way or another. Or, another way to put it is that leaving certain areas unregulated is itself advantageous to the common good.

But what about (3) positive rights? If the State of Ohio did not want to make the immoral act of abortion illegal, it could have left it unregulated or regulated it within specific limits. Instead, however, it made abortion a positive right. What does giving abortion this particular legal status say about the State of Ohio’s understanding of abortion in relation to the common good? A positive right is a freedom for a certain activity that a person may make use of or not. Like activities the state leaves unregulated, engaging in the privileged activity is left to individual discretion. Moreover, it is assumed not to damage the common good. But unlike unregulated activities, it is specifically named. Naming a right—rather than lumping it in with other unregulated activities—indicates that protecting this right has been recognized as of great value to the common good. Making it a constitutional right reinforces this conclusion. For no state legislature can make a legitimate law contravening the constitution of that state. Think of other positive rights: freedom of religion, assembly, and speech. These rights must be protected because their exercise enhances the common good.

How does exercising the constitutional right to abortion enhance the common good in analogy to exercising speech, religion, or assembly? Do fifty-seven percent of the people of Ohio believe that aborting a child is a good thing? Perhaps fifty-seven percent of the people of Ohio are utilitarian in their ethics and think that limiting population or reducing poverty by way of abortion is a good thing. (Utilitarianism asserts that whatever produces the most good for the greatest number is also good.) But I doubt that very many of the good people of Ohio are self-conscious utilitarians. I don’t think Ohioans, believing that abortion itself is a good thing, wanted to maximize the number of abortions in their state. What, then, is the good the fifty-seven percent see produced by their action? I think they take the freedom to choose as such, without regard to what you choose, as a higher good than minimizing the number of children aborted. Apparently, they were willing to make that trade, which is a very Utilitarian thing to do! What they may have lost sight of is that exercising freedom in an immoral act is itself an immoral act. And freely cooperating to grant a positive right to commit what you know is an immoral act (as opposed to leaving areas unregulated) is itself an immoral act.

Conclusion: Seminarian Meets Progressive Bishop for a Third Time

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Setting: Our anxious seminarian returns for a third visit with the progressive bishop. The bishop’s office door is open. They make eye contact.

Bishop: Come on in. I’m just finishing my midmorning coffee. Would you like a cup?

Seminarian: No thanks. I’ve had two cups already.

Bishop: What’s on your mind today?

Seminarian: Since we last spoke, I had a conversation with one of my former professors. Our paths crossed quite by accident, and he asked me how things were going. A few minutes into the conversation, I decided to risk telling him about my doubts and my conversations with you. (I didn’t disclose your identity.)

Bishop: Oh really? And what did he say?

Seminarian: I imagined I would hear the same old assertions you’d expect from an uncritical traditionalist. You know: The Bible is the inspired, infallible Word of God, heresy is insidious, and doubt is spiritually dangerous. But he challenged me in ways I did not expect.

Bishop: How so?

Seminarian: Well, in essence he asked me to explain how progressives can justify calling a religion “Christianity” that contains no authoritative Bible, no incarnation, no miracles, no resurrection, no supernatural revelation, and no resurrection of the dead. He urged me to consider what is left of the faith documented in the New Testament when all of these elements are excluded.

Bishop: And what did you say?

Seminarian: Actually, I didn’t know what to say. Oh, I remembered your explanation: that is that the supernatural elements of the New Testament are not essential to the Christian message and that the miracle stories teach important moral and spiritual lessons in a metaphorical way. But I could not bring myself to say this.

Bishop: Why not?

Seminarian: In that moment I couldn’t think of a way to defend the idea that the supernatural elements of the New Testament message are superficial features that can be removed without changing its essential nature. When I think about how the gospels tell the story of Jesus, I doubt that the gospel writers would agree with progressive Christianity’s view of Jesus. They seem to think that it is very important that Jesus healed the sick, raised the dead, exorcised the demonic forces, that his death was part of a divine plan to save the world, and that God raised him from the dead. Paul, John, Peter, and the writers of Acts and Hebrews, while viewing Jesus’s ethical teaching as authoritative for the community, place his divine nature, atoning death, and resurrection at the center of their message. In fact, the first generation of Christians seems to view the Christian gospel primarily as a message of supernatural salvation from sin, death, and the devil.

Bishop: You’re scaring me! Let’s think this through. Perhaps the gospel writers, Acts, Paul, Peter, and the writer of Hebrews would not have agreed completely with progressive Christianity, if they had encountered it. I don’t deny this. But keep in mind that they did not have access to the discoveries made by modern natural science or the moral progress made by modern liberation movements. Progressive Christianity developed by incorporating these new perspectives into a Christian framework. Surely, we should not view those elements in the New Testament that are based on ignorance, superstition and prejudice as of the essence of religion! In removing such superstitions, we actually purify the original Christianity and make it better.

Seminarian: You misunderstand. I didn’t say I changed my mind. Still, I think my former teacher asks some good questions. If, as you admit, progressive and “purified” Christianity would be unacceptable to the original apostles and likely to Jesus himself, why is it legitimate to present it to the world as authentic Christianity? The first generation of evangelists proclaimed Christianity as a message of supernatural salvation from sin, death, and the devil whereas progressive churches present Christianity as a message of humanly-achieved social justice. New Testament Christians worshiped Jesus as the Messiah of Israel and risen Lord and Savior whereas progressive Christians admire Jesus as a purely human champion of the oppressed. I have to admit that I have a hard time thinking of a Christianity stripped of all supernatural elements as having much in common with its original form. Perhaps it’s time for progressives to admit that progressive Christianity is not Christianity at all but a kind of religious humanism, that is, progressive culture infused with vague spirituality expressed in traditional Christian language understood metaphorically. In any case, before I enter a career as a clergyman in a progressive church, I’d like to get clear on this matter. Maybe I would be better suited for a career in political advocacy, social services, or education.

Bishop: I think I see now what’s troubling you. You haven’t given up your progressive views to return to the supernaturalism of your fundamentalist past. It’s too late for that. You are bothered, instead, by the apparent duplicity of working for secular progressive causes within an institution that presents itself as a Christian church continuous with the historic church all the way back to the apostolic era and that speaks to its members in traditional Christian language—miracles, resurrection, incarnation, the Spirit, the Holy Trinity—but takes it all metaphorically. Right?

Seminarian: Yes. That’s pretty much it. I am attracted to the institution of the church because of the opportunity it affords for influencing society in a progressive direction. But I also recognize that most people that are attracted to progressive churches view them as gentler and more enlightened—but genuinely Christian—alternatives to the harsh fundamentalism of conservative churches. Herein is the dilemma of the progressive clergyman: if we teach the congregation what we really believe—that we do not believe the apostolic faith—most of them would be shocked and would leave our church. We would lose our audience and our influence. On the other hand, in every service when we read the Bible, recite the Nicene Creed, perform baptisms, and celebrate the Eucharist, Christmas, and Easter, we allow the people to believe that we affirm the literal truth of these things when we mean them only as metaphors expressing humanistic aspirations and values. I’m not sure I can do that.

Bishop: We do believe them, just not literally. Think of it this way: we endure the pains of conscience provoked by our duplicity because we love our members. We want them to be happy. Like Jesus Christ in traditional theology, we bear their sins and weaknesses. That is our cross. There is no need to trouble their already troubled lives with further doubts and questions. We ease their troubled consciences by reassuring them that God wants them to be happy. We tell them that they don’t need to follow the Bible’s rules about sex, gender, marriage, and divorce in a legalistic way…if they lead to unhappiness. Pursuing a love that leads to happiness can’t be wrong. Okay, we don’t really know this, but it helps them to hear it. We allow them to believe in miracles and divine providence and to hope for life in heaven after they die. True, we don’t believe. But they do. And without explicitly denying their beliefs, we can channel their moral energy toward the causes of justice, equity, and peace. And that is a good thing, isn’t it?

Seminarian: Humm. I see your logic. But I am still troubled. I may have rejected the supernatural religion I was taught as a child, but there is one thing I can’t shake off from my fundamentalist background. And I thought progressives believed it too. My Sunday school teachers presented Jesus as an example of someone willing to die for the truth rather than tell a lie, even for a good cause, and he reserved his greatest scorn for the religious hypocrites who pretended to be one thing when in their hearts they were another. I gave up the clarity and comfort of my childhood religion because I thought keeping my integrity required it. Now I discover that becoming a successful progressive clergyman demands that I give that up too. I don’t think I can do that.

Bishop: Well, that is your decision to make. Perhaps you have not really thoroughly purged your mind of your fundamentalist upbringing. Maybe we can work on that next time.

Seminarian: I don’t know about that, but I am pretty sure that a religion that can be sustained only by deception and dissimulation can’t be the answer to the world’s problems. Oh, is that the time! It’s almost one o’clock. I need to return to my job.

Bishop: Will I see you again?

Seminarian: I don’t know, but I think not. I will show myself out.

Seminarian Meets Progressive Bishop: Part Two

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Setting: Our confused seminarian returns for a follow-up meeting with the progressive bishop to explore further his professional prospects. The seminarian knocks gently on his mentor’s office door.

Bishop: Come in. Have a seat.

Seminarian: Thanks.

Bishop: How have you been this past week?

Seminarian: I’ve thought a lot about what you said previously. I focused especially on the implications of giving reason and experience authority equal to scripture in determining church teaching. If I understood you correctly, progressives hold that in some cases the conclusions of reason and experience should be preferred above those of scripture, right?

Bishop: Yes. That is correct. But keep in mind that by “the conclusions of reason and experience” progressives are not speaking of private preferences, snap judgments, and speculations. By “reason” we mean the considered conclusions of the scientific community, and by “experience” we mean the insights modern society has attained by listening to the voices of oppressed and marginalized communities.

Seminarian: Okay. Just wanted to be sure I hadn’t misunderstood.

Bishop: Good. What’s on your mind today?

Seminarian: I don’t remember when or how this happened. But recently I realized that I have become suspicious and even skeptical about the supernaturalism that permeates traditional Christianity and, if I’m honest, the Bible itself. Evangelicalism, Roman Catholicism, and Orthodoxy place divine interventions into the ordinary course of nature at the center of their message and practice: incarnation, resurrection, atonement, divine wrath, the devil, conversion as an individual spiritual rebirth, sacraments, a second coming of Jesus, and heaven and hell. But to many people of my generation, these ideas seem unreal, unknowable, and unnecessary—the stuff of myth and legend. In addition, they distract from the essential message of Christianity. As I understand him, Jesus focused on the love of God and love of neighbor, the kingdom of God, peace, and social justice. Why burden this beautiful moral message with demands to believe reports of supernatural acts and miraculous transformations?

Bishop: I hear you. And most progressives share your concerns. But you need to be careful. First, don’t exaggerate the problems caused by the supernatural elements in the Bible. Even if these “supernatural” ideas and stories of divine interventions are not literally true, they are part of the Christian story and cannot be removed without loss and offense. As metaphors and symbols, they communicate important beliefs about God and support Jesus’s teaching about love and justice. Apart from these symbols and such religious rituals as baptism, the Eucharist, the divine liturgy, and communal prayer, Christianity would be reduced to an ethical message without grounding or persuasive power. You don’t have to attack or ignore the biblical miracles. There are alternative ways to address your concerns.

Seminarian: Sorry to interrupt…. But something has been bothering me about what you said last week. And you just said it again. At the risk of offending you, it sounds like you are advocating deception. You seem to be advising that I should allow people in my church to keep believing stories that I know are not literally/historically true because I can draw useful lessons from them. Wouldn’t this be treating them as children?

Bishop: You did interrupt! I had anticipated your apprehension—it is a common one—and was just about to address it.

Seminarian: Sorry. It’s just that I keep hearing the voices of my conservative parents and my fundamentalist home church pastor in my head raising the charge of deceitfulness and elitist condescension.

Bishop: You must keep in mind the difference between the church and the academy. Seminaries, divinity schools, and university religious studies departments question tradition and explore alternative theories of theology and religion. That’s the reason they exist. In our academic studies we learn to doubt and think critically about traditional forms of Christianity and to subject them to testing by reason and experience. Studying Christian theology, the Bible and history academically (that is, critically) inevitably raises doubts about the supernaturalism of the Bible and traditional theology. The two attitudes (critical versus believing) are incompatible, for to believe biblical miracles we have to sacrifice reason, and to obey “revealed” moral laws we have to deny the authority of experience.

In contrast to the academy, church life is all about piety, worship, community, and practice. As a minister, you are not obligated to share your academic doubts and critical conclusions with the people. Church attendees can neither understand nor appreciate the rigorous academic study of Christianity. It’s not our task to disabuse them of all their naïve beliefs and literal interpretations of the Bible. We don’t have to tell them bluntly that the stories of Christmas, Easter and Pentecost are not literally true. We can draw good lessons from these and other miracle stories without either denying or affirming their historicity. Most people that attend progressive churches are happy not to hear traditionalist demands for obedience to “revealed” moral rules. They will be perfectly content to hear general platitudes about kindness, love, racial and environmental justice, acceptance of difference, and celebration of diversity. What matters is that we minister to our church by assuring them of God’s acceptance and presence in all circumstances and that we instruct them in the ways of love and justice.

Seminarian: I want to be sure I understand you. Since we know that the supernatural beliefs, taken in a literal sense, are not of the essence of Christianity, we need not feel a sense of urgency to correct our members who innocently hold them? Hence our silence on the literal/historical truth of the incarnation, resurrection, new birth, etc., does not count as deception and elitist condescension but a teaching strategy appropriate to a popular audience?

Bishop: You could put it that way. But I can’t follow up on this right now. I have a staff meeting in ten minutes, and I have to make sure the agenda is in order.

Seminarian: Next time…I do hope you will meet with me again. Next time, I’d like to discuss some of the “supernatural” themes of the Bible and traditional Christianity. I’d like to know how you understand them and deal with them in preaching and teaching.

Bishop: I’d be delighted!

Seminarian: Thank you! See you next week!

Bishop: See you then.

Confused Seminarian Meets Progressive Bishop: A Hot Mic Moment*

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Setting: A young, bright seminarian meets with the regional bishop of a progressive denomination to discuss his future.

Seminarian: Thank you so much for meeting with me on such short notice.

Bishop: You’re welcome. Have a seat. Would you like a drink?

Seminarian: Thanks. Water will be fine.

Bishop: What’s on your mind?

Seminarian: It’s a bit sensitive.

Bishop: Don’t worry. I make no judgments, and nothing you say will leave this office.

Seminarian: Okay. Here goes. From birth to adulthood, I attended an evangelical church. (Some would call it “fundamentalist”). In my late teen years, I felt a call to the ministry. I attended a small Christian college, and three months ago I graduated from an evangelical seminary. But things have not turned out the way I imagined, and I now find myself at a turning point in my life.

Bishop: Hummm. How so?

Seminarian: I’ve lost faith in the traditional theology taught in evangelical churches. Its moral teachings are out of date, it’s oblivious to social justice, and its politics leans to the far right. I don’t fit anymore. I feel like I’ve invested years of my life and accrued significant debt for nothing. I would still like to become a clergyman. I enjoy helping people, I am a good public speaker, and I have a passion for social justice. But given my doubts and unorthodox views, I am concerned that I might not fit into any church.

Bishop: Don’t despair just yet. How exactly have your views changed?

Seminarian: Well, I suppose it all started with the Bible. Before I entered seminary I believed that everything the Bible says is true because it is the inspired word of God. That is what my church taught me. But when I began to study the Bible closely in seminary, my faith in the perfection of the Bible began to waver. As the list of contradictions, historical errors, mythic elements, immoral commands and strange customs grew longer and longer, my faith in the perfection of the Bible grew weaker and finally collapsed. I still believe, however, that the Bible contains inspiring ideals and much good advice, despite its imperfections. Jesus’s teaching about God’s concern for the poor and oppressed, the kingdom of God, and our duty to love others still moves me greatly. But is there a place for me in the ministry?

Bishop: There is no need to feel alone on this journey. Many seminarians have traveled the same road, including me, and eventually find a home in a progressive church. Admittedly, even in progressive churches many people do not wish to hear the Bible criticized. But you don’t need to do that. As you say, the Bible contains many good lessons and principles. Just focus on these and ignore the rest. People won’t even guess that you have doubts about the Bible.

Seminarian: What a relief! It’s encouraging to know that there are denominations in which ministers don’t have to defend everything the Bible says. But there is more.

Bishop: Go on.

Seminarian: When I finally realized that the Bible isn’t infallible or even reliable in everything it teaches, I began approaching everything it says with a critical eye. I couldn’t help myself. It no longer made sense to accept what the Bible says simply because it says so, and that opened a Pandora’s Box of questions. My whole world was turned upside down. I still don’t know what to believe. I don’t want to toss out everything the Bible says. I suppose I am looking for a way to distinguish between beliefs that are worth keeping and those that must be left behind. Do you see what I mean?

Bishop: I think I do.

Seminarian: I’m listening.

Bishop: Have you ever heard of the Wesleyan Quadrilateral?

Seminarian: I remember the term. It originated in the Anglican/Methodist tradition and has something to do with the sources of theology, right?

Bishop: Correct. But apparently, its significance escaped you. The Wesleyan Quadrilateral observes that throughout church history four factors always worked together to produce the church’s doctrine: scripture, tradition, reason, and experience (Hence quadrilateral!). All Christian doctrines need to be grounded in the Bible, consistent with tradition, supported by reason, and confirmed in experience. Fundamentalists and evangelicals focus exclusively on the scripture. If a doctrine appears to be taught in the Bible, they say we must accept it even if it is not supported by tradition, reason, or experience.

Seminarian: Yes. That is what I was taught.

Bishop: Indeed! Evangelicals, then, departed from the mainstream flow of the church’s way of thinking through theological challenges. But progressive denominations take all four sources of the Wesleyan Quadrilateral seriously in their doctrinal deliberations.

Seminarian: How does that work?

Bishop: Of course, progressives take the Bible seriously. It is the original source for the Christian story: Jesus’s life, teachings and fate, as well as the earliest church’s attempt to understand his significance. Without the Bible, we would have nothing distinctly Christian to say. However, as you have come to realize, the Bible is a human book and suffers from the limitations that afflict all human creations. It is influenced by the beliefs, moral norms, and superstitions of the culture within which it was written.

Seminarian: Let me guess…progressives use tradition, reason, and experience to compensate for the deficiencies and limitations of scripture.

Bishop: Exactly…but don’t get too far ahead of yourself. It’s not a simple process.

Seminarian: Sorry about that. Lead on. But if you don’t mind, give me the short version. I’m having dinner with a friend in an hour.

Bishop: Progressives value tradition, but only as an on-going process of discussion. We listen to past voices, but we do not treat traditional doctrine as definitive for all time. We consult tradition to benefit from the wisdom of the past, but as the living church of today we must read it critically and remain open to new insights inspired by the Spirit. And that is why reason and experience are so important. When we perceive that the Bible asserts something erroneous or unreasonable—usually in the areas of history or empirical science—we feel free to ignore its teaching or correct its mistakes. It would be wrong to ask people to believe the impossible, accept the erroneous, or embrace the improbable as conditions for becoming Christians.

Seminarian: Okay. But that doesn’t sound particularly progressive. Even the most orthodox theologians—Protestant and Roman Catholic—employed the criterion of “right reason” as a measure of true theology!

Bishop: That is correct. But our modern understanding of what reason demands differs greatly from that of medieval Catholics and Reformation era Protestants. Given the discoveries of modern science, today’s fundamentalists and evangelicals are much less enthusiastic about reason than their predecessors were. But that is a story for another time. Let’s move on to experience.

Seminarian: I will hold you to that.

Bishop: No doubt, progressive churches’ use of experience as a doctrinal criterion (or source) marks their most significant departure from traditional orthodoxy. Experience becomes very important in grappling with contemporary moral issues, specifically those dealing with class, sex, race, and gender. Progressive Christians have learned to read the Bible and tradition critically in view of the experiences of marginalized and oppressed people. The Bible and tradition picture gay, lesbian, and transgender people as degenerate and rebellious. They picture women as weak-willed temptresses. However, when one listens to the voices of LGBTQ+ and other marginalized people and enters their lived experience, our views change. We return, then, to the offensive biblical texts with a new, critical perspective. We become open to alternative interpretations or, if reinterpretation won’t solve the problem, we reject those texts as out of character with the main story of scripture, which is God’s gracious acceptance of everyone.

Seminarian: Wow! This has been enlightening! I am beginning to see a glimmer of hope. May I come back next week to explore other areas of concern?

Bishop: Of course. I will put you on my calendar.

Seminarian: Thank you so much! See you next week!

Bishop: Great! Don’t forget your jacket.

* Within the past two years I’ve written several essays on so-called “progressive Christianity.” I reviewed books by Roger Olson (July 15 & 19, 2022), Robert Gushee (November 7, 12, 21 &28, 2022), David Kaden (October 22 & 23, 2022) and, in a series of essays on progressive thought, attempted to articulate the foundational value that animates the progressive movement in secular culture and in the church (August 12, 2022). I am writing this series of conversations between a confused seminarian and a progressive bishop because I am amazed that relatively orthodox (or evangelical) Christians attend progressive churches and have no clue what their pastors really believe or what they are up to. So, I am giving you the inside story—a hot mic perspective—on progressive Christianity.

Academic Freedom and Christian Education (Part Three)

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This essay concludes my series on academic freedom in American universities and colleges. I posted earlier instalments on July 15, 2023 and August 28 2023. As we discovered in the first two essays, academic freedom is a contested concept. Simple appeals to academic freedom soon find themselves mired in disputes about the nature and limits of such freedom. Even in public and private secular colleges the idea is a bone of contention. And this dispute expands inevitably to disagreements about the nature of the teaching profession, the academic ideal, and the place of the university in society. Your stance on these subjects determines how you understand academic freedom. Not surprisingly, then, the nature of academic freedom is also disputed within self-designated Christian colleges and between Christian colleges and secular colleges.

Diversity Among “Christian” Colleges

Great diversity reigns among “Christian” colleges. We must map this diversity before we examine the distinction between academic freedom in Christian colleges and academic freedom in secular colleges. I spoke above of “self-designated” Christian colleges. I did so because there is as much diversity among Christian colleges as there is among “Christian” churches and individual Christians. Some church related colleges have so assimilated to the national culture that only vestiges of Christianity remain. Perhaps they require a course or two in religion, maintain a chapel on campus, and employ a chaplain, but otherwise they differ little from their secular counterparts. Their religious studies departments are very progressive, and there are no confessional requirements for students or faculty. The scope of academic freedom in these colleges tracks perfectly with secular schools.

At the other end of the spectrum are colleges that require administrators, board members, faculty and students to adhere to a list of orthodox beliefs. Christian symbols permeate the campus, occasions for worship are numerous and attendance is mandatory, and faith-affirming classes in Bible and theology are required. Expressions of faith and prayer in the classroom are encouraged. Strict moral conduct by students and faculty is expected. Continued employment is contingent on abiding by these rules in life, teaching, and research. Confessional boundaries determine the limits of academic freedom.

Between these two extremes lies a spectrum of self-designated “Christian” colleges. In his book Quality With Soul: How Six Premier Colleges and Universities Keep Faith with Their Religious Traditions (Eerdmans, 2001), Robert Benne lists four types of “Christian” colleges: Orthodox, Critical-Mass, Intentionally Pluralist, and Accidentally Pluralist (p. 49).

The question whether or not a particular college that self-designates as Christian really is Christian is open for debate in the same way a church’s or an individual’s claim to be Christian is open for debate. I am willing to admit that various models of the Christian college are possible, just as I am willing to accept some flexibility of belief among churches and individual believers. But there are limits. Outright denial or malicious neglect of core Christian doctrine or abandonment of Christian morality belie claims to Christian character. A college that designates itself as Christian should maintain a constant internal debate about the meaning of that designation.

When a person claims to be a Christian it is reasonable to assume that they sincerely hold the central beliefs proclaimed in the New Testament and wish to be an active and faithful disciple of Jesus Christ. Likewise, when an institution advertises itself as “Christian” it should embody this very same confession in its institutional mission, policies, and code of conduct. The Christian faith encompasses every dimension of life. It is a way of thinking, feeling, and living. Compatibility with the Christian mission of a Christian college should be a determining factor—equal to technical competence—in administrative, faculty, and staff hiring, and in retention, tenure, and promotion decisions. It is relevant to curriculum, co-curriculum, teaching, and research.

Christian Colleges Contrasted with Secular Colleges

If a self-designated Christian college adheres to the above essential marks of a Christian college, its concept of the nature and limits of academic freedom should differ markedly from that employed in state or private secular, or nominally Christian colleges. To grasp those differences let’s examine ways Christian and secular colleges differ.

The Reason to Exist

As a matter of historical record, at least from 1900 onward, Christian colleges (Protestant) were founded as alternatives to secular colleges and universities. The older private colleges and newly established state schools had come first to tolerate and then promote agnosticism, secular humanism, atheism, social Darwinism, pantheism, and religious indifferentism. The founders of Christian colleges rejected as laughable the claim that these secular colleges were “nonsectarian” or neutral on matters of religion. Christian colleges aimed to protect young minds from being led astray by persuasive presentations of these anti-Christian ideologies. This sentiment is expressed clearly by William Jennings Bryan (1860-1925) in a speech at Taylor University in Upland, IN:

Parents all over this nation are asking me where they can send their sons and daughters to school knowing that their faith in God and in morality will not be destroyed. I find that this is a college where they teach you the Bible instead of apologizing for it, and I shall for this reason recommend Taylor University to inquiring Christian parents [Quoted in William Ringenberg, The Christian College: A History of Protestant Higher Education in America (Baker,1984, 2006) p. 171]

The Christian worldview served as the intellectual and moral framework to give coherence to institutional policies, curriculum, and co-curriculum.

Christian colleges were not founded as research universities or as instruments to serve the national interest in agriculture, industry, and defense. It was not their purpose to change or preserve the national culture. Their aim was much less grandiose, being a direct extension of the aspirations of churches and Christian parents. It was to educate young people for living as Christians in their chosen professions, as ministers, missionaries, teachers, and others. Christian colleges transforming themselves into research universities and touting their service to the nation is a recent development. This transformation seems always to be accompanied by a loss of Christian identity.

The Profession

As we learned in previous articles in this series, the founding of the American Association of University Professors (1915) was part of an effort by leading professors at America’s elite research universities to consolidate the growing demand for greater professionalization of the professorate. Among their goals were creating nation-wide standards and a nation-wide culture for the profession. Not surprisingly, their professional standards and culture were those most congenial to the secular research university and the self-interests of the professors who teach there. They wished to nationalize and standardize the image of professors as secular saints devoted to discovering truth—courageous, unbiased, and free from all external loyalties that would constrain their judgment.

Teachers that embrace fully the founding purpose and mission of the Christian college do not fit the image of the professor whose highest loyalty is to the profession as secular universities understand it. Ideally, Christian college professors would possess technical mastery of their subject area equal to that of professors in secular universities. Yet they would remain critical of ways in which secular professors in these fields import alien frameworks and anti-Christian philosophical, moral, and political beliefs into their research and teaching. For example, a Christian professor would deny that to be a good physicist, chemist, or biologist one must assert that these sciences refute belief in God and creation. Christian professors see clearly that the social and psychological sciences—insofar as they are truly scientific— have nothing to say about morality. However, because holding such secular views seems to be a requirement of the profession, Christian professors may feel like strangers within the profession.

The Academic Ideal

As we learned in previous articles, even secular colleges debate the nature and purpose of academia: Should academia be driven by the cool, objective search for truth regardless of its practical application? Or, should its goal be to reform society in a mood of urgency and advocacy? Advocates of the truth-seeking approach accuse the cause-advocating group of abandoning reason for political advocacy. In response to this charge, the cause-advocating group accuses the truth-seeking group of hypocrisy. Their high-flown rhetoric of disinterested science hides their intellectual assumptions and socioeconomic agendas. Perhaps these two alternatives are not mutually exclusive. Even so, thoughtful Christian academics will not combine them in the same way that secular academics do. Christian professors value reason and truth-seeking highly and they prize fairness in critical evaluation. In this, they resemble the truth-seeking ideal. But they do not pretend to take a neutral attitude toward the Christian understanding of God, the world, humanity, and morality. This stance of advocacy they have in common with the cause-advocating academics.

The real difference, then, between Christian academics and truth-seeking secular academics is not that the latter value reason and truth and the former do not. They differ, rather, in the guiding assumptions and presuppositions each makes. Likewise, Christian academics and cause-advocating academics do not differ in that one serves non-academic causes and the other refrains from serving any cause outside of academia. They differ in the causes they serve.

Academic Freedom

Academic freedom is about the freedom to teach and learn within the limits clearly defined by an academic institution. This description applies both to secular and Christian colleges. The limits on academic freedom differ according to the ways each type understands the mission of the college, the character of the profession, and the nature of academia. Secular colleges grant professors freedom to teach and advocate agnostic, atheist, immoralist/libertine, and other views incompatible with Christian faith but deny them freedom to teach and advocate Christianity. In contrast, Christian colleges deny (or should deny) professors freedom to teach atheist, agnostic, immoralist/libertine, or any other view it regards as anti-Christian.

Understandably, professors want maximum freedom and secure employment. But there is no college that allows unlimited academic freedom and unconditional tenure. If professors want freedom to teach unbelief and immorality and recruit young people for those causes, they should seek employment where they have freedom to do this. Similarly, if professors want freedom to argue that Christianity is true, good, and beautiful, they may be happier in a Christian college, which allows and encourages such advocacy.

If private and public secular colleges wish to teach anti-Christian views, this is a decision for those institutions and their stakeholders to make. And if Christian colleges and their stakeholders decide that anti-Christian views and values must not be taught and practiced, this is their prerogative. There is no rationally self-evident or divinely revealed law of academic freedom, and there is no academic supreme court to settle disputes among different views. Institutions must discover through dialogue and debate among the interested parties a balance that works best for them.

“Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain” Or Demystifying Academic Freedom and Professorial Privilege

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In my previous essay on academic freedom (July 15, 2023), I reviewed Daniel Gordon’s recent book, What is Academic Freedom? A Century of Debate–1915 to the Present (Routledge, 2022). Gordon argues convincingly that no single definition of academic freedom commands universal assent within American academia. In this essay, I will explore the implications of Gordon’s thesis and lay a foundation for constructing a view of the nature and limits of academic freedom in Christian colleges and universities.

Academic Freedom: Universal Right or Elitist Privilege?

Knowledge is Power

Every ancient society treasured its wisdom, technical skills, and bodies of knowledge. Prophets, priests, and philosophers mastered the received tradition and taught it to the next generation. Some speculated about God and the heavens and others dealt with humanity and earth. But from Solomon to Socrates, Descartes to Darwin, and Newton to Nietzsche thinkers were admired and despised, immortalized and martyred. One person’s saint is another’s heretic. Why would the same thinker be hailed as a savior and persecuted as a traitor? How could an idea be received as light from heaven by some and condemned as infernal heresy by others?

Francis Bacon may have put his finger on the reason: “Knowledge in itself is power.” Technical knowledge enables us to do things that we could not do otherwise.  Knowing how to speak and write well may enable you to persuade other people to buy your product or join your cause. Learning the sciences of mathematics, physics, chemistry, or biology opens doors to respected and well-paid professions. If people think you know how to fix the economy or win wars, they will place you in high office and put their collective power at your disposal. No wonder professions, unions, and guilds jealously guard their trade secrets and defend their privileges by requiring degrees, accreditation, licensure and sometimes by resorting to intimidation and violence!

Ideas are Dangerous

Knowledge can be used for good or evil, to build or destroy. Ideas, even if they are true, are dangerous things. To a politician that maintains power by perpetuating falsehoods, truth is dangerous and one who speaks it is an enemy. Lies, too, can destroy lives and livelihoods. So can fancies, superstitions, and other expressions of ignorance and conceit. Prophets, liars, and charlatans wield the dangerous weapon of speech.

We should not be surprised, then, that societies from ancient to modern times feel the need to regulate the knowledge industry, that is, to have a say about what counts for knowledge and who is recognized as a reliable teacher.  Sometimes that regulation was enforced with a heavy hand, as in the cases of Socrates, Jesus, and Galileo, and at others, through the subtle power of social disapproval. In any case, for most of human history, those who dared speak their minds understood that they risked losing freedom, livelihood, and life itself.

The Price of Privilege

The modern doctrines of academic freedom and professorial self-governance were designed to buck the trend of history and exempt university professors from hazards braved by their courageous predecessors. But I wonder, can “truth-to-power” speech be institutionalized without losing its prophetic edge? What price must be paid for these privileges? The modern professorate is a self-perpetuating, highly selective group, and the fee for admission is steep. No charlatans and liars, purveyors of fancies and superstitions are allowed to join. But who are the gatekeepers, the ones that decide who is in and who is out? Who determines what ideas are fanciful and superstitious and who the charlatans are?

At the risk of sounding more cynical than I already have, I have to ask a further series of questions: Was professionalizing the professorate and adopting the modern doctrine of academic freedom just a less obvious way for progressive society to regulate the knowledge industry? Might not excluding some thinkers as “charlatans and purveyors of fancies and superstitions” be the way the “profession” colludes with its powerful patrons to shield them from scrutiny? Is “professionalization” a euphemism for “cooptation”?

Even the casual reader of the AAUP’s 1915 General Declaration on academic freedom can catch the disdain in which its authors held “proprietary” colleges, a category that includes any school dedicated to advancing particular political, philosophical or religious causes. As “proprietary types,” devoted to their “propagandist duties,” denominational colleges, seminaries, and what we now call “Christian” colleges, do not rise to the high standards of universities devoted to the “public” good. By making themselves the arbiters of what counts as the common good, the authors of the General Declaration in effect institutionalized their (progressive) political, philosophical, and religious causes as if they were the rationally self-evident norms of academic excellence.

The Profession: Self-Governance or Self-Service?

Who Guards the Guardians?

The modern concept of academic freedom goes back at least to the founding of the University of Berlin (1810). Thousands of Americans studied in Germany during the nineteenth century, and they returned to America eager to raise American universities up to German standards. Establishing the professorate as a self-governing profession protected by complete academic freedom was among the first tasks they undertook. The 1915 AAUP General Declaration of Principles on Academic Freedom and Academic Tenure  is the classic American statement on academic freedom. The Declaration argued that as a profession constituted by a specialized body of skills and knowledge and dedicated to the public good, the professorate has earned the right to self-governance in all academic matters, that is, the qualifications of teachers, tenure decisions, the curriculum, and the range of theories worthy of consideration within each discipline. The original AAUP statement and all later iterations insist that faculty should be free from all external regulation in matters of academic judgment. According to the Declaration, faculty should not be treated as “employees” as are the grounds keeping staff but as “appointees” in analogy to federal judges.

As an insider to the profession, I understand wanting freedom to write and teach as I please. I understand why professors want the public to think that their work is vital to the common good and that academic freedom and tenure, good pay, a light teaching load, and time to study and research are necessary to that end. I can make a good case for all of this. But the AAUP’s General Declaration paints professors with an aura of sainthood. They are portrayed as incorruptible guardians of knowledge and unselfish benefactors of society. In its rhetoric about the glories of the vocation, professors walk on water and open the eyes of the blind, but in reality they stumble along in the same muddy stream as do other human beings. The nobility of the professorial calling must not be carelessly attributed to practitioners of that vocation. In my experience professors can be just as petty, jealous, narrow, envious, hypocritical, greedy, and ambitious as politicians, business leaders, and the cleaning crew. Of course they want complete self-governance in matters of academic freedom and tenure! I want it too!

But who will guard the guardians? The General Declaration assumes that, even if a few of its members abuse their privileges, “the profession” will remain pure; it can police its members. But the history of other associations and organizations makes this assumption dubious. Should we believe that the professorate can escape the gravitational pull of mundane self-interest, ideological orthodoxies, and nepotism when the clergy, labor unions, and police departments have not been able to do so? Shall we, then, appoint an elite group of superguardians to guard the academic guardians? But who would guard them?

There is no substitute for checks and balances that can serve as counterweights to tyranny arising from outside or inside the university. The faculty can be as tyrannical as the government or the administration or the board. Universities exist as cooperative efforts on the part of many interested parties, all of them necessary to the existence and functioning of the school: founders, donors, boards of regents, alumni, students, administrators, the public, and faculty. There is no escaping the messy business of negotiating, if not harmony, at least some acceptable compromise among these parties. The guardians must guard each other in an unbroken circle of accountability in which no one and no area is exempt from the scrutiny of all.

What is “the Profession” and Who Speaks for it?

The General Declaration speaks as if there were a real entity called “the profession.” This way of speaking leaves the impression that every competent college teacher shares the same view about the aims of higher education and agrees on the methods and resources needed to accomplish these goals. This was not true in 1915, and it is not true today. Is the purpose of higher education to pass on the wisdom accumulated by generations past or to train researchers to engage in discovery of new knowledge? Should professors in their research and teaching seek disinterestedly for truth or work to change the world? Professors were divided then, and they are divided now on these questions. Implied in this second dichotomy are two very different views of academic freedom and the professor/student relationship, which we see today in the conflict between the postmodern activist and the anti-political professional views.

Professors in Christian colleges and universities often find themselves on different sides of this debate. But more importantly, thoughtful Christian professors, especially those teaching in Christian schools, understand that they do not fit comfortably in either camp. For they are committed to doing their research and teaching guided by the Christian worldview. In the final article in this series, I will take up how this institutional and professorial commitment to the truth of Christianity changes the way we think about academic freedom and professorial self-governance.

Conclusion: The Road to Moral “Progress”: From Obedience to Self-Governance to Autonomy and Beyond

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Today I will conclude the series “The Road to Moral Progress” in which I’ve been working to uncover the historical origins of the progressive morality that dominates higher education, most of the media, and other centers of power in the West. In this series I have been in conversation with J. B. Schneewind, The Invention of Autonomy: A History of Moral Philosophy (Cambridge University Press, 1998). In the two hundred years covered by Schneewind (1600 to 1800), moral philosophers worked to construct an alternative to the traditional morality of obedience (See the post of July 10, 2023). By the beginning of the seventeenth century, the idea of morality as obedience to authority had come into disrepute not only because of wide-spread abuse; it now seemed insulting to the freedom and dignity of humanity to demand that one rational agent submit to moral guidance from another. The search began for a moral theory in which each rational agent is self-governing.

According to the ideal of moral self-governance every rational agent has independent access to the moral knowledge they need to guide their lives and the motivation to act in keeping with this knowledge. Of the many moral philosophers that worked on this project during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, I chose to focus on Hugo Grotius. But Grotius along with all the others failed to discover a satisfactory theory of self-governance (See the post of July 24, 2023). In that post I concluded:

Indeed, individuals were presumed to be competent to use their reason to discern the moral law given in nature. Nevertheless, that law—whatever its origin—was not the product of the human will. Though reason possesses power to discover the moral law, it cannot create it. Self-governance, then, does not live up to its name. As long as the moral laws we must obey derive from the will of another or from blind and purposeless nature, we are not truly self-governing. A truly self-governing agent must not only be able to discern the moral law embedded in nature but must also be the author of those laws.

It seems that early modern philosophers did not realize that implicit in their rejection of the morality of obedience is rejection of all moral sources external to the rational agent. Writing in the late eighteenth century, Immanuel Kant drew this inference and incorporated it into his theory of autonomy.

Immanuel Kant and the Invention of Autonomy

Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) proposed a new way to reconcile maximum human freedom and dignity with the idea of obedience to moral law. Kant was the first moral philosopher to use the concept of “autonomy” in a moral theory. Before his time, it had been used in political thought to designate a sovereign state that can legislate and enforce laws within its territory. In the morality of autonomy rational agents give the moral law to themselves. Explaining the steps by which Kant developed his theory of autonomy and how previous thinkers influenced him is beyond the scope of this essay and my expertise. But I think I can state his theory in simple terms without too much distortion.

According to Kant, a truly moral act must be motivated by something more than desire for happiness, goodness, perfection, or beauty. These ends may accompany a moral act, but they are not definitive for its moral status. To be moral, an act must be done because it is right, without regard to the consequences. In other words, to act morally is to obey the moral law simply because it is the moral law.

Is Kant, then, turning his back on the ideal of self-governance and returning to the morality of obedience? No. He is reconciling the two ideals in a higher order. The moral law we obey is the law of reason, which is constitutive of human nature. It is the command legislated by the factor that constitutes us as rational agents. That is to say, this law derives from the inherent structure of reason. Kant labels it the “categorical imperative,” in opposition to a “hypothetical” imperative. The categorical imperative is an unconditional command, obedience to which is an end in itself. A hypothetical imperative is reason’s recommendation of an effective means to an end other than obedience.

The self that gives itself the moral law is a higher self, a self that is free from the deterministic forces of nature, including those of the lower aspects of human nature, which apart from the guidance of reason are irrational, blind, and chaotic. The rational self is the region of the universal and harmonious. In a way similar to mathematics and logic, its moral content is the same for all rational beings. It is as true for God as it is for human beings. The categorical imperative demands that we will for ourselves and others only what we can will as a universal law for all rational agents.

Obedience in Kant’s theory of autonomy has nothing to do with servility. We do not serve an alien authority: clergy, kings, philosophers, or even God. We obey ourselves. We are truly and fully self-governing in a way that affirms our maximum freedom and dignity.  To avoid misrepresenting Kant, however, we must remember that the “self” that governs is a transcendental self, universal reason common to all rational agents, known only through the categorical imperative. The empirical self that is governed is the lower, unruly, desiring self.

Beyond Autonomy

As we have seen, Kant’s morality of autonomy is anything but arbitrary, subjective, and indulgent. Kant reconciles the morality of obedience with human freedom and dignity by placing both the legislator and the recipient of legislation within the one human person. In self-governance, the transcendental self commands the empirical self to submit to universal reason. The moral person envisioned by Kant is a paragon of self-control, motivated solely by duty. From all accounts, Kant’s personal morality was of a strict type, almost Stoic. Nevertheless, Kant’s conclusion that maximum human freedom and dignity demand a moral theory in which human beings create their own laws is pregnant with some very un-Kantian possibilities.

Attempting to trace contemporary progressive morality back to Kant’s theory of autonomy would oversimplify matters greatly; contemporary culture was created by the confluence of many streams. However, because Kant saw clearly the radical implications of rejecting the morality of obedience, he set the benchmark for all future moral philosophies that share this rejection. Once one accepts the principle that human freedom and dignity are incompatible with obedience to external law, the only option left is to transfer the grounds and guiding principles of morality from outside to inside the human person. Kant located the guiding principle in universal reason. But many people find reason too abstract and duty too cold for their tastes. After all, should not moral action lead to individual happiness? Would not our feelings be better guides to happiness than universal reason? Why locate our true identity in a transcendental self we experience only indirectly as a legal demand when we experience directly a stable combination of tastes, feelings, and desires that urges us toward our own unique form of happiness?

Contemporary progressive morality flips Kant’s autonomy theory upside down. Instead of reason, feelings become the ruling self, the guiding principle that issues the categorical imperative, and reason becomes the obeying self, a mere instrument to serve the feelings.

Where Do We Go From Here?

As this series has made clear, working out the moral implications of attributing maximum freedom and dignity to human beings was among the central driving forces for modern moral philosophy. It seemed obvious to many thinkers that the morality of obedience is incompatible with such a view of humanity. Is there a way of escaping the moral logic that drove modern culture to the edge of nihilism?

Perhaps the way forward beyond the impasse in which we find ourselves today is to rethink the original transition from the morality of obedience to the morality of self-governance. In my opinion, we should not give up on attributing maximum freedom and dignity to human beings, and clearly a slavish type of obedience is incompatible with such a view of humanity. The first step in rethinking morality is asking from where western thinkers derived the firm conviction that human beings possess maximum freedom and dignity? To make a long story short, they derived these ideas from the Christian doctrines of creation, incarnation, salvation, and redemption. Human beings are made in the image of God and the Son of God became one of us, loved us enough to die for us, and will unite us to God in the resurrection to eternal life.

But obedience to God and moral law is also an essential part of the Christian faith. How does Christianity harmonize the maximum freedom and dignity of humanity with a life of obedience when the enlightenment thinkers could not? The one-word answer is eschatology. Christianity envisions humanity as living in two states. The present state in the body is a time of wandering and temptation, a time where faith and hope and the first fruits of the Spirit are the ways we participate in the future state. In the present life we need to trust and obey. In the future resurrection we will be endowed with eternal life and with perfect freedom and dignity. We will be united to God in a state Paul called glory, incorruptibility, and immortality (1Corinthians 15) and the Greek church fathers called theosis or divinization.

Apparently, the enlightenment thinkers collapsed the two states into one, got rid of eschatology, and attributed a kind of divinity to humanity before the time. Kant transferred the Christian tension between the present and the future states into the human person as the distinction between the empirical self and the transcendental self.

It seems to me that one of the most urgent tasks for Christian thinkers today is articulating a Christian view of the moral life in direct confrontation with bankrupt progressive culture. Such a view will demonstrate how Christianity incorporates obedience, self-control, moral law, and humility into a way of life that does far greater justice to human freedom and dignity than progressive alternatives.

In case you are interested in thinking about this project further, you can find my thoughts in two books:

1. God, Freedom & Human Dignity: Embracing a God-Centered Identity in a Me-Centered World (InterVarsity Press, 2013)

2. The New Adam: What the Early Church Can Teach Evangelicals (And Liberals) About the Atonement (Cascade, 2021).

Celebrating Ten Years and 385 Essays!

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Today is the tenth anniversary of ifaqtheology.com. On August 08, 2013, I announced the beginning of this blog, promising to address theological questions with

“Clarity in thinking, precision in speaking, honesty, truth, common sense, intellectual humility, thoughtfulness and fairness.”

Why Start Ifaqtheology?

1. I came to realize that I could not write a book or an academic article on every subject I wanted to address. The academic style requires the author to pursue a painstaking process of documentation. It takes huge amounts of time and limits how much you can read and write. Academic writing plays an important role in the life of the church, but I was not satisfied with talking only to fellow professors.

2. I wanted to reach a broader audience. For a long time, I have believed that most churches do a poor job of teaching the full range of the Christian faith to their members. The people’s ignorance of doctrine and church history leaves them vulnerable to the winds of culture. I started this blog to do something about it.

3. I use blogging to clarify my thinking on various topics. It energizes me to think that some people—even if only a few—will read these essays right away.

Accomplishments

I think that my efforts have been worth it. This entry makes 400 posts since 8/8/13. I estimate that 385 of these posts are essays on theological or related topics. The average word count for those essays is about 1,000 words. That makes the total count 385,000 words, which translates to about 1,000 printed book pages. I have published five books that began as essays on this blog:

The Thoughtful Christian Life (2014)

A Course in Christianity (2016)

Christianity—Is it Really True (2015; 2d ed, 2017)

Four Views on Women in Church Leadership (2017)

Rethinking Church (2021)

During the past 10 years the blog has been viewed approximately 91,000 times. I have no way of knowing exactly how many different people have read something from the blog but 5,000 would be a good guess. Readers made 1,400 different comments in reaction to something they read on the blog.

A Resource

All of these 385 essays are still available to readers, and they are easy to access. You can find what you are looking for by using the search box at the top right of this page. Just type in the box a topic that interests you. Also, if you scroll down the page below the month-by-month archive list, you will come to a huge alphabetically ordered list of “Categories.” You might find a topic there that interests you. I view the blog archives as a sort of theological dictionary.

Recommend Ifaqtheology

I started ifaqtheology to help the church as a community and individual Christians to a deeper understanding of their faith and to equip them to live faithfully in a post-Christian culture. I hope you will use it as a resource and recommend it to others.

Interlude: Why Bother?

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Today I want to step back from the current series (The Road to Moral “Progress”: From Obedience to Self-governance to Autonomy and Beyond) and address a question some of you may be asking:  Why bother with so much history? Why approach the contemporary moral climate in such a roundabout way?

Why History?

As many of you know, I am very interested—bordering on obsession—in how certain very powerful segments of contemporary culture came to think as they do about morality. But some readers may be wondering why we need to understand the historical origins of the crazy ideas that emanate from university social science, education, and literature departments. What does it matter from where Hollywood and Silicon Valley got their twisted values? Whatever their origin—you may be saying to yourself—these ideas contradict the reason and common sense of every right-thinking person: everyone knows that we are born male or female, men can’t have babies, and people are not born equal in every respect.

Indeed (you may concede), it is helpful to realize that progressive philosophy presupposes that the goal of human progress is liberation from all limits. But we don’t need to study the entire history of modern moral philosophy to see that striving toward this goal is futile. We already know that achieving it is impossible! And if the goal that drives a historical process is impossible, we can be sure that this striving has been misdirected from the beginning. So, why trace out how it went wrong?

Good Observations…

I admit that you don’t need to know the historical origin of a bad idea to see that it is illogical or immoral or empirically false or impractical. It may be only curiosity that leads some of us to ask how otherwise intelligent people could believe that a person can be born in the “wrong” body or that it is morally permissible (or even imperative) to give female hormones to an underage school boy (with or without parental consent) or to attempt by way of surgery to transform a female body into a male body. Perhaps so. But there may be more at stake than merely satisfying a curiosity.

I see your point, but consider that these ideas appear absurd to you only because you hold to a different way of looking at the world. And your worldview also has a history. You believe in the God revealed in the Bible: the all-knowing, omnipotent, all-wise, Creator of heaven and earth, the author of the moral law, and the hope of the world. You were taught to accept the limits imposed by the Creator, to trust God even when you do not understand God’s ways, and to worship God alone. Judged by this worldview, the modern progressive view—that we ought to aspire to divine status—appears not only rebellious, disobedient, and immoral but absurd, insane, and suicidal! Viewed through this lens, we see that the divisions in contemporary culture result not merely from the clash of a few contradictory moral ideas but from the collision of two diametrically opposed worldviews.

You may suggest, then, that the most reasonable response to the errors of progressive culture is to preach the Christian gospel and explain the worldview implicit therein and call for conversion. For only then can people see what is wrong with progressive moral philosophy. I agree with this strategy up to a point. Each misguided moral perspective makes sense only when placed within the complete progressive worldview. Likewise, Christian morals make sense only within the Christian worldview. Challenging each progressive absurdity individually will probably be ineffective. Complete conversion is needed.

To share Christianity effectively with some people, however, it may be necessary to explain the historical origins of the progressive worldview. Most progressive-leaning people are not postmodern philosophers or social science professors who incessantly quote postmodern philosophers—usually, I might add, without understanding them. They are not Hollywood actors or tech industry workers who say whatever they need to say to fit into their corporate cultures. Nor are they politicians who do whatever it takes to hold together a progressive coalition. For the most part they are college educated professionals whose main impulse is to conform to the trends dominant among other college educated professionals. Their moral beliefs are an unstable mixture of progressive and traditional ideas.

Reasons for Studying History

How might learning about the historical origins of contemporary progressive philosophy help people to rethink their progressive ideas? Three ways come to mind:

1. It dispels the illusion that progressive ideas are self-evident.

When everyone around us voices progressive ideas, the rewards for conformity are great and the punishment for nonconformity is severe. We have little motivation to question them. But the study of history demonstrates the contingency of progressive morality. Chance and circumstance—not merely reason and goodwill—contributed to the construction of progressive culture. When a way of thinking loses the aura of self-evidence, we are forced to ask the question of its truth.

2. Understanding the genesis of the progressive worldview frees us to ask where it might lead in the future.

I admit the difference between historical development of an idea and the logical unfolding of an idea. Logic is timeless; history is temporal. History does not necessarily follow the path of logical implication. Chance and human freedom and caprice also influence the flow of history. Nevertheless, there is a certain resemblance between logical and historical movement. Each generation tends to modify or contradict or extend the ideas of preceding generations. One generation argues that belief in human dignity demands freedom from kings and priests. The next generation demands freedom from all traditional moral rules, and the next asserts freedom from God and nature. What’s next? Where will it all lead?

3. Historical study places before us a decision between two starkly different worldviews and ways of living.

As I said above, most people hold to a mixture of progressive and traditional beliefs. Studying the origin and historical development of progressivism demonstrates that these two types of beliefs are incompatible. Progressive moral values presuppose a progressive worldview and traditional beliefs presuppose a traditional worldview. The history that led to the creation of contemporary progressive culture gradually replaced God, Christ, and creation with humanity, science, and technology. Perhaps the study of history will help some people see that these two worldviews are incompatible. You can’t have it both ways. You have to choose between them and reform your life accordingly.

The Road to Moral “Progress”: From Obedience to Self-Governance to Autonomy and Beyond (Part Two)

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This essay is part two of a series I began on July 10, 2023 in which I am pursuing the question of the origin of the moral climate that dominates large segments of modern society. Before the modern era, the ideal moral person dutifully conformed to the moral tradition handed them by their forbearers. The church was the chief guardian and the clergy were the main interpreters of this tradition. People were expected to obey their betters or else.

Note: As in part one of this series, also in this essay I am relying on J. B. Schneewind, The Invention of Autonomy: A History of Moral Philosophy (Cambridge University Press, 1998). In addition, I will use the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy’s (SEP) entry on “Hugo Grotius” written by Jon Miller. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/grotius/

What is Self-Governance?

Around the year 1600 confidence in the authority of tradition and the church began to wane. Moral philosophers began to seek ways to replace tradition and the clergy with other sources of moral knowledge and establish another ideal for a moral person. That other ideal was self-governance, that is to say, the view that every rational agent has independent access both to the moral knowledge they need to guide their lives and to the motivation to act in keeping with this knowledge.

None of the early architects of the morality of self-government denied the existence of God. Practically all of them believed that a creator God was necessary to morality. However, they focused not on supernaturally revealed moral law but on the moral guidance woven into the created order and in human nature. Human beings possess the power of reason, which enables them to discover the moral law embedded in nature.

Hugo Grotius (1583-1645): Pioneer of Self-Governance

As an example of the change from the ideal of obedience to that of self-governance, we can examine the thought of the Dutch lawyer and statesman Hugo Grotius. Hugo Grotius transformed the medieval moral law theory into a modern one. His works were studied for 200 years after his death and even today he is still recognized as the father of international law. According to Jon Miller [“Hugo Grotius” (SEP)], we can get a handle on Grotius’s moral theory by looking at his answers to four questions about the nature of morality, questions about the source, contents, obligatory force, and scope of moral law.

What is the source of the moral law?

As I said above, no early modern moral philosopher denied the existence of God. Nor did Grotius do so; nevertheless, he did not want to root our knowledge of the moral law in a source accessible only by faith in divine revelation. He makes this clear in a famous (or infamous) passage:

What we have been saying would have a degree of validity even if we should concede [etiamsi daremus] that which cannot be conceded without the utmost wickedness, that there is no God, or that the affairs of men are of no concern to him (Quoted in Miller, SEP).

To discover the moral law, we must look at nature. “The mother of right—that is, of natural law”—Grotius explains, “is human nature” (Quoted in Miller, SEP). In another place he says,

The law of nature is a dictate of right reason, which points out that an act, according as it is or is not in conformity with rational nature, has in it a quality of moral baseness or moral necessity; and that, in consequence, such an act is either forbidden or enjoined (Quoted in Miller, SEP).

Clearly, viewing nature as the repository and reason as the measure of the moral law gives plausibility to the idea of self-governance.

What is the specific content of the moral law?

According to Grotius, we find two contrary drives in human nature, the drive for self-preservation and the need for fellowship with other human beings. The challenge of living successfully in human society is finding a way to harmonize these two seemingly contrary drives. For Grotius, the system of rules that harmonizes, or at least balances, these two forces is the law of nature. And this system of rules must be discovered by empirical observation and study of human behavior. It cannot be derived deductively from first principles.

The theoretical status of moral law, in the Grotian understanding of it, has more in common with the empirical sciences than it does with theology or metaphysics.

What gives moral law is obligatory force?

If the moral law is merely a set of rules that balances self-interest and sociability, what gives it the force of obligation? The laws that govern the physical world do not obligate human beings to obey them. If moral rules are merely guides for living successfully in the world, why do we incur guilt by breaking them? Is morality no more than prudence and enlightened self-interest? According to Schneewind (pp. 73-75), Grotius never answered this question. He merely asserts that some acts are inherently good and some inherently evil and that we should do good and avoid evil. But if you ask why we should prefer good over evil, the answer seems to be that doing good will lead to success in living and doing evil will lead to failure. Whence then the obligation?

What is the scope of moral law?

According to Grotius, the moral law applies to every human being. Since all (or most) human beings are rational and social and have independent access to the law of nature, everyone falls under the jurisdiction of the moral law. Religious disagreements, class differences, and other distinctions between human beings do not lessen the binding nature of moral law.

The Instability of Self-Governance

As time passed, the Grotian concept of self-governance proved unstable. It contained inner contradictions that eventually caused its dissolution. Originally, the ideal of self-governance was opposed to obedience. Obedience had to be rejected because it divided human beings into those who commanded and those who obeyed, masters and servants, learned and ignorant…all to the detriment of the ideals of universal human dignity and freedom. Self-governance promised to do greater justice to human dignity and freedom.

But the concept of self-governance could not completely rid morality of obedience to an alien law and obligations not imposed on oneself. Indeed, individuals were presumed to be competent to use their reason to discern the moral law given in nature. Nevertheless, that law—whatever its origin—was not the product of the human will. Though reason possesses power to discover the moral law, it cannot create it. Self-governance, then, does not live up to its name. As long as the moral laws we must obey derive from the will of another or from blind and purposeless nature, we are not truly self-governing.

A truly self-governing agent must not only be able to discern the moral law embedded in nature but must also be the author of those laws. The name given to this type of moral ideal is autonomy, which means something like “law unto oneself.”

Next Time: The Invention of Autonomy