I’m going to be tremendously lazy for today’s blog on authority and send you all away to read this essay on the manualist tradition by Fr. Joseph Fenton.
The reason I’ve put this in the series about “Authority” is that the theological manuals used to be widely considered as authentic interpretations of magisterial authority in the Church and hence practical sources of authentic teaching. In recent years, of course, they seem to have slipped into the shadows; but I get the feeling that this tradition is making a comeback as more and more of the faithful yearn for a deeper understanding of the deposit of faith handed on to the Church by Christ Himself.
Fr. Fenton’s article is useful in situating the manuals in the Christian tradition; but it is also very useful in pointing out particular sources for their strengths in particular areas. Many of the manuals cited are in Latin; however many of then have received English translations, so it's worth searching on the web around even if Fr. Fenton does not mention an English translation.
I must also, of course, mention again Dr.Feser’s “Scholastic’s Bookshelf” series both for its recommendations and for the links to the many online sources that are now available.
Showing posts with label Authority. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Authority. Show all posts
Friday, 4 June 2010
Thursday, 3 June 2010
On Authority IV
In the field of science that I work in it’s a lot of hard work to refute erroneous theories and studies once they get established in the literature. The fact that it is such hard work and that the kudos for demolishing false theories tends to be much lower than that available for creating new theories or buttressing established theories, tends to lead to the situation that rubbish is just left to die a natural death rather than being killed off promptly. Of course, reputations get established on the top of nonsense, and these erroneous theories often have to wait for the passing of their creators before they themselves get consigned to oblivion. The trouble is, when public health policy becomes involved, these erroneous theories lead to irrelevant or just plain damaging consequences. Bad science does kill people.
The same would appear to be true in dogmatic theology. Although, in principle, erroneous science would appear to be easier to refute (after all, to be optimistic for a moment, if it is irrefutable it cannot be science), errors in dogmatic theology are exposable and yet many theories seem to live on in a zombie existence long after they have been torn to shreds. One of the things that struck me very forcibly whilst reading Feingold’s book was how the huge problems of de Lubac’s theory of the supernatural were identified pretty much as soon as the ideas appeared. Why then does such a theory live on? One might make similar comments about Rahner’s idea of the transcendental existential. Perhaps it is simply due to the intrinsic seductiveness of the ideas and to the fact that few are intellectually equipped to actually understand the problems. Perhaps, as well, we are looking at the collapse of the idea of theological authority.
If one approaches a new idea from the point of view of the deposit of faith interpreted in the light of the perennial philosophy, then (and again, I’m being optimistic here) one might realistically hope that a deductive proof of the truth, falsity, fittingness or inconsistency of the new idea might be amenable. However, if hermeneutical principles are themselves disputed, then pretty much anything goes.
Ecclesiastical authorities rarely step in to theological disputes; and when they do these days there tend to be howls of indignation from those academic theologians who consider their intellectual freedom to be under attack. And yet perhaps in these days we do need the Magisterium to say more through its positive affirmation of the deposit of faith and through the condemnation of error. It’s perfectly reasonable to ask whether seemingly abstruse theological arguments actually have any effect on “ordinary people” at all and therefore why not just let erroneous theology fade into the sunset. But ideas have consequences; these erroneous ideas become simplified and popularized and they do influence ordinary folk. Lives are at risk with bad science but souls are at risk with bad theology.
The same would appear to be true in dogmatic theology. Although, in principle, erroneous science would appear to be easier to refute (after all, to be optimistic for a moment, if it is irrefutable it cannot be science), errors in dogmatic theology are exposable and yet many theories seem to live on in a zombie existence long after they have been torn to shreds. One of the things that struck me very forcibly whilst reading Feingold’s book was how the huge problems of de Lubac’s theory of the supernatural were identified pretty much as soon as the ideas appeared. Why then does such a theory live on? One might make similar comments about Rahner’s idea of the transcendental existential. Perhaps it is simply due to the intrinsic seductiveness of the ideas and to the fact that few are intellectually equipped to actually understand the problems. Perhaps, as well, we are looking at the collapse of the idea of theological authority.
If one approaches a new idea from the point of view of the deposit of faith interpreted in the light of the perennial philosophy, then (and again, I’m being optimistic here) one might realistically hope that a deductive proof of the truth, falsity, fittingness or inconsistency of the new idea might be amenable. However, if hermeneutical principles are themselves disputed, then pretty much anything goes.
Ecclesiastical authorities rarely step in to theological disputes; and when they do these days there tend to be howls of indignation from those academic theologians who consider their intellectual freedom to be under attack. And yet perhaps in these days we do need the Magisterium to say more through its positive affirmation of the deposit of faith and through the condemnation of error. It’s perfectly reasonable to ask whether seemingly abstruse theological arguments actually have any effect on “ordinary people” at all and therefore why not just let erroneous theology fade into the sunset. But ideas have consequences; these erroneous ideas become simplified and popularized and they do influence ordinary folk. Lives are at risk with bad science but souls are at risk with bad theology.
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
On Authority III
What about Conscience?
An objection that may be heard very early is that one should obey one’s conscience even if there appears to be a clash between conscience and authority. Indeed, one reads in the Catechism of the Catholic Church that:
It might appear that “conscience is king”. However, one must enquire into what conscience actually is before one leaps to such a conclusion. Again, from the catechism:
So, conscience can be in error; conscience can be in ignorance. The key observation is that conscience is a judgement of the practical reason ordered to the assessment of the morality of particular concrete actions, not a speculative faculty of the intellect ordered to the assessment of the moral status of classes of action. Conscience needs to be taught the general principles by which it may judge the morality of particular concrete actions. If the inputs to conscience are wrong, the outputs will be too. As the saying goes: “Garbage in; garbage out”.
So, for example, it is not for the conscience to determine that the proposition “the direct killing of an innocent person” is right or wrong; the intellect receives this teaching from the natural law and from revelation (and consistently taught by the magisterium of the Church). The conscience is then responsible for determining the moral status of a particular act based upon whether the particular act involves the direct killing of an innocent party.
A conscience that is wrongly formed is a disaster for an individual; one with a malformed conscience on grave matter may fall prey to the situation of being obliged to sin under pain of sin. This is why the correct formation of conscience is so vital to the moral life.
The conscience needs to be formed throughout one’s life. As the Catechism puts it:
Parents, teachers, friends and many more participate in the formation of conscience. The most reliable teacher is the magisterium of the Church; the authoritative guide to the content of the deposit of faith and to prudential judgements concerning morality. If one finds oneself in a situation where conscience disagrees with a teaching of the Church, the obligation is to learn from the Church rather than to accuse the Church of error.
For a detailed exposition of conscience, the old manuals on moral theology can be very helpful. For example: take a look at Question 4 of Volume I of “Moral Theology” by McHugh & Callan. Nearly eighty pages are devoted to an in depth treatment of conscience. See also Veritatis splendor 62-64.
An objection that may be heard very early is that one should obey one’s conscience even if there appears to be a clash between conscience and authority. Indeed, one reads in the Catechism of the Catholic Church that:
1790 A human being must always obey the certain judgement of his conscience. If he were deliberately to act against it, he would condemn himself.
It might appear that “conscience is king”. However, one must enquire into what conscience actually is before one leaps to such a conclusion. Again, from the catechism:
1790 continued. Yet it can happen that moral conscience remains in ignorance and makes erroneous judgements about acts to be performed or already committed.
1778 Conscience is a judgement of reason whereby the human person recognizes the moral quality of a concrete act that he is going to perform, is in the process of performing, or has already completed. In all he says and does, man is obliged to follow faithfully what he knows to be just and right. It is by the judgement of his conscience that man perceives and recognizes the prescriptions of the divine law:
So, conscience can be in error; conscience can be in ignorance. The key observation is that conscience is a judgement of the practical reason ordered to the assessment of the morality of particular concrete actions, not a speculative faculty of the intellect ordered to the assessment of the moral status of classes of action. Conscience needs to be taught the general principles by which it may judge the morality of particular concrete actions. If the inputs to conscience are wrong, the outputs will be too. As the saying goes: “Garbage in; garbage out”.
So, for example, it is not for the conscience to determine that the proposition “the direct killing of an innocent person” is right or wrong; the intellect receives this teaching from the natural law and from revelation (and consistently taught by the magisterium of the Church). The conscience is then responsible for determining the moral status of a particular act based upon whether the particular act involves the direct killing of an innocent party.
A conscience that is wrongly formed is a disaster for an individual; one with a malformed conscience on grave matter may fall prey to the situation of being obliged to sin under pain of sin. This is why the correct formation of conscience is so vital to the moral life.
The conscience needs to be formed throughout one’s life. As the Catechism puts it:
1783 Conscience must be informed and moral judgment enlightened. A well-formed conscience is upright and truthful. It formulates its judgments according to reason, in conformity with the true good willed by the wisdom of the Creator. The education of conscience is indispensable for human beings who are subjected to negative influences and tempted by sin to prefer their own judgment and to reject authoritative teachings.
1784 The education of the conscience is a lifelong task. From the earliest years, it awakens the child to the knowledge and practice of the interior law recognized by conscience. Prudent education teaches virtue; it prevents or cures fear, selfishness and pride, resentment arising from guilt, and feelings of complacency, born of human weakness and faults. The education of the conscience guarantees freedom and engenders peace of heart.
1785 In the formation of conscience the Word of God is the light for our path, we must assimilate it in faith and prayer and put it into practice. We must also examine our conscience before the Lord's Cross. We are assisted by the gifts of the Holy Spirit, aided by the witness or advice of others and guided by the authoritative teaching of the Church.
Parents, teachers, friends and many more participate in the formation of conscience. The most reliable teacher is the magisterium of the Church; the authoritative guide to the content of the deposit of faith and to prudential judgements concerning morality. If one finds oneself in a situation where conscience disagrees with a teaching of the Church, the obligation is to learn from the Church rather than to accuse the Church of error.
For a detailed exposition of conscience, the old manuals on moral theology can be very helpful. For example: take a look at Question 4 of Volume I of “Moral Theology” by McHugh & Callan. Nearly eighty pages are devoted to an in depth treatment of conscience. See also Veritatis splendor 62-64.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
On Authority II
Quite famously, canon law makes what may seem like considerable (and might some people even say: mediaeval, archaic?) demands concerning the interior assent to authority.
In enquiring into the nature of these demands upon assent, one should also take a look at the motu proprio of John-Paul II ad tuendam fidem which cast these canons into their current form. Certainly one must also read carefully the doctrinal commentary on ad tuendam fidem produced by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. In this latter, levels within the hierarchy of truths are identified (corresponding to the three paragraphs of the canons above) and the sanctions appropriate to denial of these truths are laid out. So, unsurprisingly perhaps, a denial of a revealed dogma of the faith falls under the sanction of heresy. A denial of a teaching associated with the second paragraph would result in the denier removing themselves from communion with the Church. So, for example, one obstinately claiming abortion to be licit would be a heretic; one obstinately claiming the possibility of women’s ordination would put themselves outside the communion of the Church.
Such claims on the assent required to the teaching of the Church may very well seem strange to modern sensibilities; surely a docile response to authority alone is being demanded? Why does the Church make such demands? On what authority does it claim such authority?
The beginnings of an answer to such questions might be best expressed by the teaching of the second Vatican council; the Church’s authority in making these demands lies with the will of Christ:
“For the Catholic Church is by the will of Christ the teacher of truth. It is her duty to proclaim and teach with authority the truth which is Christ and, at the same time, to declare and confirm by her authority the principles of the moral order which spring from human nature itself”. Dignitatis humanae 14.
In these posts on “Authority”, I intend to attempt answers to such questions as these. To do so, I will meander far and wide; please join me on the journey. Perhaps you might offer smoother roads than I can find or identify higher hurdles that I should cross.
Can. 750 §1. A person must believe with divine and Catholic faith all those things contained in the word of God, written or handed on, that is, in the one deposit of faith entrusted to the Church, and at the same time proposed as divinely revealed either by the solemn magisterium of the Church or by its ordinary and universal magisterium which is manifested by the common adherence of the Christian faithful under the leadership of the sacred magisterium; therefore all are bound to avoid any doctrines whatsoever contrary to them.
§2. Each and every thing which is proposed definitively by the magisterium of the Church concerning the doctrine of faith and morals, that is, each and every thing which is required to safeguard reverently and to expound faithfully the same deposit of faith, is also to be firmly embraced and retained; therefore, one who rejects those propositions which are to be held definitively is opposed to the doctrine of the Catholic Church.
Can. 752 Although not an assent of faith, a religious submission of the intellect and will must be given to a doctrine which the Supreme Pontiff or the college of bishops declares concerning faith or morals when they exercise the authentic magisterium, even if they do not intend to proclaim it by definitive act; therefore, the Christian faithful are to take care to avoid those things which do not agree with it.
In enquiring into the nature of these demands upon assent, one should also take a look at the motu proprio of John-Paul II ad tuendam fidem which cast these canons into their current form. Certainly one must also read carefully the doctrinal commentary on ad tuendam fidem produced by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. In this latter, levels within the hierarchy of truths are identified (corresponding to the three paragraphs of the canons above) and the sanctions appropriate to denial of these truths are laid out. So, unsurprisingly perhaps, a denial of a revealed dogma of the faith falls under the sanction of heresy. A denial of a teaching associated with the second paragraph would result in the denier removing themselves from communion with the Church. So, for example, one obstinately claiming abortion to be licit would be a heretic; one obstinately claiming the possibility of women’s ordination would put themselves outside the communion of the Church.
Such claims on the assent required to the teaching of the Church may very well seem strange to modern sensibilities; surely a docile response to authority alone is being demanded? Why does the Church make such demands? On what authority does it claim such authority?
The beginnings of an answer to such questions might be best expressed by the teaching of the second Vatican council; the Church’s authority in making these demands lies with the will of Christ:
“For the Catholic Church is by the will of Christ the teacher of truth. It is her duty to proclaim and teach with authority the truth which is Christ and, at the same time, to declare and confirm by her authority the principles of the moral order which spring from human nature itself”. Dignitatis humanae 14.
In these posts on “Authority”, I intend to attempt answers to such questions as these. To do so, I will meander far and wide; please join me on the journey. Perhaps you might offer smoother roads than I can find or identify higher hurdles that I should cross.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
On Authority I
One occasionally hears the criticism that mediaeval writers held most of their ideas on the basis of authority; the authority of scripture or the authority of great Christian figures of the past, for example. This is often contrasted with thinkers from the so-called Enlightenment onward who, we are told, considered authority of no weight and held their ideas and beliefs on the basis of evidence.
Although this idea is quite consistent with the modern “grand narrative” of progress from ignorance and superstition to enlightened knowledge, I find it quite puzzling. I’ve worked as a mathematician, as a scientist or as an engineer (or, cough, as a manager of same) for most of my adult life. For my leisure interest, philosophy and theology have taken me back through the years, especially to the middle ages. What I find, through my exposure to science and philosophy through the ages, sets off in me a dissonance with this modern narrative.
For when we look at the works of the scholastic theologians of the Middle Ages we find the most astonishing intellectual honesty and a rigorous and lengthy probing of ideas and counter-ideas quite at odds with this grand narrative. In the method of disputatio we find a thesis proposed, then a set of objections to this thesis and a counter argument to the objections. The scholastic master then proposes his assessment of the thesis and finally he answers the objections to his position one by one in great detail. Now, amongst these components of the disputatio, one does find arguments from authority; it’s not infrequent that the counter argument to the objections is taken from scripture or a Church Father such as Augustine. However, this quotation of authority never stands on its own as the deciding factor of an argument. The theological master always argues from rational principles, interpreting authorities, synthesising concord from prima facie inconsistencies between authorities, and sometime even correcting those authorities. St. Thomas, for example, often quotes St Augustine; sometimes he corrects him in a way so gentle and subtle you hardly notice he’s done it. The angelic doctor also corrects and develops his philosophical authorities; sometimes Thomas is claimed to be a slave to Aristotle; nothing could be further from the truth. The duty of the scholastic master is to develop his ideas in the face of the most rigorous criticism possible and to answer all the objections put to him.
In modern life we do, of course, accept authority (in the sense I use here) every day of our lives. Children accept the authority of science teachers as they learn; expert scientists accept the authority of leaders in fields outside their own. Trust is key to any society or to any intellectual pursuit.
But within a single discipline in modern science, authority surely does not have the same role to play? Perhaps it should not in the best of all possible worlds, but in grubby reality it does. Let me give two examples at two extremes.
One might expect pure mathematics to be completely free of arguments from authority, and in one sense it is; the truth of a proposition is only accepted if the proposition is amenable to proof. But not uncommonly proofs are not checked rigorously; peer review is fallible for any number of reasons. Propositions may in fact become accepted by the mathematical community on the authority of the author. Certainly they are amenable in principle to rigorous checking, but in fact they need not be. Another aspect concerns the significance of a particular area of mathematics: if you want funding to pursue study in your area, you will need to persuade a funding body to give you the money. Funding bodies rely on senior figures, that is, authorities in the field to pass judgment on, inter alia, the worth of the field.
My other example concerns the medical sciences. Often the truth of a hypothesis in this field is very difficult to demonstrate rigorously. Randomized experiment may be difficult or even impossible and the complexity of causal pathways may mean that effects measured in observational studies are confounded by other uncontrollable or un-measurable effects. It is not uncommon for hypotheses to be constructed out of very flimsy evidence and these hypotheses, although very attractive and consistent with theory and expectation, may defy demonstration or demolition for many years. In the interim, such hypotheses often gain the status of assumed fact and health and policy decisions are made based upon them; careers are built on weak studies that fail to demolish the hypothesis; those who put forward the hypothesis become authorities in the field; funding for further study depends on those authorities. Sadly, humanity being what it is in its fallen state, it is not unknown for such hypotheses only to pass away with their creators, the authorities that uphold them.
The ideas of authority and of trust go hand in hand and we could not flourish, as individuals or as a society, without them. However, the contrast between the mediaeval and the modern is hardly as stark as some might wish to claim. Indeed, having been immersed in both, I would claim that we should sometimes give the mediaeval thinkers credit for being less beholden to authority than we are and more demanding in their rigour.
Although this idea is quite consistent with the modern “grand narrative” of progress from ignorance and superstition to enlightened knowledge, I find it quite puzzling. I’ve worked as a mathematician, as a scientist or as an engineer (or, cough, as a manager of same) for most of my adult life. For my leisure interest, philosophy and theology have taken me back through the years, especially to the middle ages. What I find, through my exposure to science and philosophy through the ages, sets off in me a dissonance with this modern narrative.
For when we look at the works of the scholastic theologians of the Middle Ages we find the most astonishing intellectual honesty and a rigorous and lengthy probing of ideas and counter-ideas quite at odds with this grand narrative. In the method of disputatio we find a thesis proposed, then a set of objections to this thesis and a counter argument to the objections. The scholastic master then proposes his assessment of the thesis and finally he answers the objections to his position one by one in great detail. Now, amongst these components of the disputatio, one does find arguments from authority; it’s not infrequent that the counter argument to the objections is taken from scripture or a Church Father such as Augustine. However, this quotation of authority never stands on its own as the deciding factor of an argument. The theological master always argues from rational principles, interpreting authorities, synthesising concord from prima facie inconsistencies between authorities, and sometime even correcting those authorities. St. Thomas, for example, often quotes St Augustine; sometimes he corrects him in a way so gentle and subtle you hardly notice he’s done it. The angelic doctor also corrects and develops his philosophical authorities; sometimes Thomas is claimed to be a slave to Aristotle; nothing could be further from the truth. The duty of the scholastic master is to develop his ideas in the face of the most rigorous criticism possible and to answer all the objections put to him.
In modern life we do, of course, accept authority (in the sense I use here) every day of our lives. Children accept the authority of science teachers as they learn; expert scientists accept the authority of leaders in fields outside their own. Trust is key to any society or to any intellectual pursuit.
But within a single discipline in modern science, authority surely does not have the same role to play? Perhaps it should not in the best of all possible worlds, but in grubby reality it does. Let me give two examples at two extremes.
One might expect pure mathematics to be completely free of arguments from authority, and in one sense it is; the truth of a proposition is only accepted if the proposition is amenable to proof. But not uncommonly proofs are not checked rigorously; peer review is fallible for any number of reasons. Propositions may in fact become accepted by the mathematical community on the authority of the author. Certainly they are amenable in principle to rigorous checking, but in fact they need not be. Another aspect concerns the significance of a particular area of mathematics: if you want funding to pursue study in your area, you will need to persuade a funding body to give you the money. Funding bodies rely on senior figures, that is, authorities in the field to pass judgment on, inter alia, the worth of the field.
My other example concerns the medical sciences. Often the truth of a hypothesis in this field is very difficult to demonstrate rigorously. Randomized experiment may be difficult or even impossible and the complexity of causal pathways may mean that effects measured in observational studies are confounded by other uncontrollable or un-measurable effects. It is not uncommon for hypotheses to be constructed out of very flimsy evidence and these hypotheses, although very attractive and consistent with theory and expectation, may defy demonstration or demolition for many years. In the interim, such hypotheses often gain the status of assumed fact and health and policy decisions are made based upon them; careers are built on weak studies that fail to demolish the hypothesis; those who put forward the hypothesis become authorities in the field; funding for further study depends on those authorities. Sadly, humanity being what it is in its fallen state, it is not unknown for such hypotheses only to pass away with their creators, the authorities that uphold them.
The ideas of authority and of trust go hand in hand and we could not flourish, as individuals or as a society, without them. However, the contrast between the mediaeval and the modern is hardly as stark as some might wish to claim. Indeed, having been immersed in both, I would claim that we should sometimes give the mediaeval thinkers credit for being less beholden to authority than we are and more demanding in their rigour.
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