People of the Promise—A New Book From the Davenant Institute

The Davenant Institute (the name has just been changed from the Davenant Trust) has a forthcoming book on the subject of Protestant ecclesiology, to which I have contributed an article on the ecclesiology of Pentecost. There are several other superb essays within it that are really worth a read.

The doctrine of the church is often perceived as the weakest link in Protestant theology. These essays argue, on the contrary, that the Reformers’ radical re-thinking of the definition of the church is one of the Reformation’s greatest treasures. Not only is “mere Protestant” ecclesiology firmly in concert with the multifaceted biblical witness, but it is also manifestly in accord with natural reason and the lived experience of Christians throughout the ages. As we celebrate the 500th anniversary of the Reformation, this volume seeks to honor the Protestant heritage by remembering, reclaiming, and critically reflecting upon the relationship between the gospel promise and the community which it calls into being.

You can pre-order a copy here.

Posted in Church History, The Church, Theological | 4 Comments

The Eternal Subordination of the Son Controversy: 11. Concluding Reflections (Part 2)

1. The Debate So Far
2. Survey of Some Relevant Material
3. Subordination
4. The Need for Trinitarian Clarity (Part 1)
5. The Need for Trinitarian Clarity (Part 2)
6. The Tension Between Bible and Doctrine
7. Reconciling Scripture and Dogma
8. κεφαλή in 1 Corinthians 11:3
9. Indivisible Divine Authority in Mutually Defining Relations
10. Concluding Reflections (Part 1)

The concluding post in my long-running series on the debate surrounding the eternal subordination of the Son has just been posted.

The emergence of the ESS position in its current form is in large part an attempt to provide a ‘deep structure’ for a complementarian position. It seeks to demonstrate that the biblical teaching concerning the complementarity of the sexes is not arbitrary, but is grounded in something beyond itself.

Unfortunately, this quest for a deep structure is, I suspect, often the flip-side of an ideologization of complementarity. What was once an organic part of Christian social teaching, practice, and imagination, recognized as naturally grounded and inseparably bound up with the broader fabric of Christian and human existence–a creational and empirical reality–has been reframed as a theory, ideology, or social programme. In the process it has been uprooted from the broader creational and scriptural context to which it belongs.

Having abandoned or lost much of its proper grounding–not least as people have sought to restrict its import as much as possible to the pulpit and the marriage bed–this more abstract ideology has needed to discover a new theological rationale for itself. In a context where it is under threat, it must defend itself against the charge that it is contrary to the general tenor of Christian teaching and imposes arbitrary expectations. ESS looks like a promising solution to this problem, yet ends up causing more difficulties and provoking more contention than it resolves. In the past, teaching about the complementarity of the sexes wasn’t an ‘ism’ or ideology. Even when ESS was referenced in connection with it, considerably less weight was placed upon the analogy, and certainly not the sort of weight that would press theologians more in the direction of univocity.

Read the whole thing here.

Posted in Bible, Controversies, Creation, Doctrine of God, Guest Post, NT, NT Theology, The Triune God, Theological | 2 Comments

The Politics of Man’s Exaltation

I’ve just guest-posted over on Political Theology Today.

This psalm presents us with an embryonic account of human rule in the creation. Although the dominion of humanity is central to the psalm, it is situated within and established upon the sovereignty of YHWH. Human dominion is one of the Creator’s own mighty works, a means by which he establishes his intended order in his creation. As such, human rule is neither to be despotic nor a law unto itself, but a graciously given status and appointed means of fulfilling YHWH’s own good purpose for his manifold creatures.

Read the whole thing here.

Posted in Creation, Guest Post, OT, Politics, Psalms, Theological | 2 Comments

Review of Ashley McGuire’s ‘Sex Scandal: The Drive to Abolish Male and Female’

My review of Ashley McGuire’s recent book, Sex Scandal: The Drive to Abolish Male and Female, has just been published over on The Gospel Coalition website.

McGuire explores numerous fronts of the current assault on the reality of sexual difference: children’s toys and education, cultural discourse around the terms “sex” and “gender,” colleges and their sexual culture, the military, emergency services, the entertainment industry, legal developments, social norms, and the gender identity movement. Each front is presented through a litany of journalistic anecdotes and symptomatic causes célèbres. Together they reveal a society fraught with conflict over one of the most basic human realities—the difference between men and women.

Read the whole thing here.

Some of you might be wondering about the fact that my recent TGC article on artificial wombs has the same title as the book I’ve just reviewed. This was my fault for pitching an idea for that post in the thread devoted to the review of McGuire’s book, the addition of a different TGC editor later in that email thread to deal with the artificial wombs post, and my failure to catch the use of the book’s title in the draft that I was sent of the article (yes, I know!). By the time I caught the error, it was too late to change it.

Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments

The Revolutionary Work of Motherhood

Motherhood and the work of homemaking are accorded considerable sentimental value within Western culture. Every year on Mother’s Day—the second Sunday in May in the US or the fourth Sunday of Lent in the UK—the praises of mothers and their untiring and selfless work for their families are expressed in a myriad of greetings cards, sermons, and articles. In one of the most commercially profitable holidays of the year after Christmas, we acknowledge the emotional significance that our mothers have in our lives with flowers, boxes of chocolates, and syrupy sentiments purchased from Hallmark.

Yet this celebration is not without its measure of uneasiness and guilt. The saccharine sentiments of Mother’s Day may all too often function in part to palliate the dimly perceived injustice of a multitude of thankless impositions and burdens placed upon mothers over the rest of the year. As an inconsiderate husband may praise his ‘long-suffering’ wife, elevating her virtues as a face-saving mask for his own vices, our extravagant cultural celebration of the ‘self-sacrificial’ work of mothers may all too easily cover up the lack of honour in which we hold motherhood more generally. The gushing words and commercial expenditure notwithstanding, there is good reason to doubt whether the ‘sacrifices’ we claim to celebrate on Mother’s Day are truly held in esteem within our society.

Some attempt to highlight the injustice of the way that mothers are treated in our society by talking about such phenomena as the ‘second shift’ or women’s ‘unpaid labour’, casting the work of a mother as if it were a job, speculating how much it would cost to hire an employee to assume all of a mother’s commitments, or otherwise presenting the work of motherhood within the paradigm offered by wage labour. Within such an approach, preparing the family meal, reading the children their bedtime story, and vacuuming the dining room are all to be understood as if analogous with labouring for an employer. Yet there is a presumed deficiency of these acts relative to wage labour, because they are ‘unpaid’. More generally, the earnings gap between the sexes that largely arises from motherhood is lamented as a sign of ‘gender inequality’.

Yet within such a framework of understanding, many of the ‘sacrifices’ of motherhood appear more like costs unjustly imposed, costs that enable their husbands and children to achieve their full potential in the market, but which hold mothers back from achieving their own. This framework, even while it alerts us to the marginalization and devaluation of the labour of mothers in our society, fails to question the fundamental values that give rise to this problem. Presenting mother’s work as if a deficient form of wage labour, a burden unjustly and unequally shouldered by women that prevents them from achieving their value as full economic agents, devalues mother’s work, even as it sensitizes us to our society’s mistreatment of women’s labour. The monetary values of the market remain the dominating and unquestioned frame of reference and mothers are either unjustly oppressed parties or beloved self-sacrificial victims, who give up their own dreams the better to enable the rest of us to achieve our own.

For those operating within such a framework, it will always be difficult to entertain the possibility that the ‘sacrifices’ of motherhood may not merely be costs imposed by injustice or necessity or burdens willingly assumed on account of sentimental bonds. The possibility that such sacrifices might offer a passage by which a woman can establish and enter into a realm of human meaning deeper than that afforded by her individuality isn’t conceived.

It is not entirely surprising that a society such as our own should fail to perceive the true value of motherhood, for the value of motherhood so radically contrasts with the values that shape a society ordered around the neoliberal state and market. Our society is built upon abstraction and alienation, upon the escape from the bonds of the particular or the unique into the realm of autonomous will. Value is measured by the abstraction of currency, by reduction to pure exchange value. More generally, abstraction in conceptuality, technique, politics, production, social organization, and community are how we gain power. The more that we reduce the particularity of the world and humanity to fungible and malleable raw material, subject to the operations of abstract techniques, the more control and ‘freedom’ we possess. This dynamic is seen in everything from technocratic government, to the form of online social media, to the movements in fabrication towards mass production and digital replication, to the operations of algorithms on financial markets.

The mother’s labour is inalienable and cannot truly be abstracted, which renders it incomprehensible to a society ordered around alienation and abstraction. Motherhood involves a sort of labour and yields a sort of possession that is simply incommensurable with those forms of labour and possession that our society focuses upon. The ‘labour’ of the mother occurs within her own body and does not lend itself to being sold on the market. Although you can sell your house, you cannot sell your home on the market.

The logic of abstraction and alienation departicularizes us and cuts loose the bonds that bind us to each other, our labour, and our world. However, the work of the mother is invested not merely in the performance of generic service functions for prospective or current economic agents (which she could in theory pay another to perform for her), but in the creation of the world of the home, a world that is unexchangeable, a world that is uniquely hers, a realm of life of which she herself—in her embodied particularity—is the heart and the source.

While our society seeks power through abstraction and alienation, the power of the mother is in her uniting and integrating. A factory may produce delicious pre-packaged gourmet meals for microwave reheating, yet could never unite a family in the same way as a mother’s gift of home cooking, for instance. The significance of the mother’s labour cannot be reduced to its material outcomes or products, as through her labour the mother is giving her very self.

The labour of the mother in making her home is a labour of love, a type of labour driven by, bound to, and creative of something particular and unique, apart from and distinct from all other things in the world. You can’t mass produce or replicate homes. The mother is the spring of life at the heart of the home. Her very body is the site of union and our very first home. The life that she produces through her maternal labour and love is the life by which her entire household grows. It is also a life that spreads out beyond her household into her wider community and society bringing communion and fruitfulness, as she expresses her distinctively womanly power to make the world into a home.

The woman’s labour, as I have suggested, is a sacrifice and the meaning of the woman’s sacrifice will not be achieved apart from the labours of men and the commitment of society more generally to honour those sacrifices and secure their meaning. In his deeply perceptive discussion of the theme of sacrifice, Moshe Halbertal discusses the open-endedness of the past:

[W]hatever we accomplish in the past is at the mercy of future action. Future events, in other words, will define retroactively the meaning of what it is that we have done… The importance of the institution of the promise becomes clear when set against this condition of the fragility of the past. Think for a moment about a deathbed promise in which a dying author who has completed a magnum opus asks a friend to pledge that he will make an effort to publish it. The retroactive meaning of the author’s past is effectively at stake. He is essentially entrusting his friend with the meaning of the years that are gone.

In failing to perceive the true promise of the sacrifices of motherhood, society has failed truly to honour those sacrifices, or to order itself in a manner that commits itself to defending and securing their meaning.

Society has tended to view the sacrifices of motherhood as sacrifices from which women ought to be unburdened. The weakening of the family over the past centuries has in large measure arisen from the steady outsourcing of traditional family functions to external agencies, leading to its de-condensation:

Marriage traditionally functioned as a socially integrating institution and has been regarded as sacred or holy by many societies as a result, right down to the present. Although the form it took could vary considerably from society to society, it generally served to unite or strengthen the bond between a range of different persons and practices. It bound the generations together. It bound different families together. It related the sexes together. It strengthened communities and cultures as marriages became the bearers of religious and social meaning. It connected sex with procreation. It connected private life with communal life.

The power of marriage and family as an institution arose in large measure from the vast array of functions that were condensed within it: provision, security, welfare, healthcare, education, investment, employment, public representation, community, religious practice, etc., etc. However, over the last few centuries marriage has been radically de-condensed, many of its former functions outsourced to other institutions or drastically reduced through new technologies. Whereas marriage was once a deeply meaningful necessity for people’s physical and social survival, now it is steadily reduced to a realm of sentimental community. Without the force of necessity holding people together, the deeper integrating goods that marriage once represented are harder to perceive and its meaning is drastically diminished. Marriage becomes much weaker as an institution.

Although many of these developments are very positive on balance, relieving women of some of the most onerous work of the household, no other agency or technology can ultimately substitute for the communion-establishing gift of self that the mother could achieve through her labour in her home. By their very character, techniques arising from abstraction and alienation cannot achieve the true integration of personal union and communion.

The mother herself represents a reality that resists the logic of abstraction and alienation. Abstraction and alienation approach reality as generic raw and exchangeable stuff to be broken down by and subjected to abstract technique. The mother, by contrast, represents the original material, yet personal, bond in which we all find our beginnings. It is not accidental that the words ‘matter’ and ‘material’ both derive from the word for mother, and it is significant that they present the reality of the world, not in terms of atomized stuff, but in terms of a primordial relationship and bond. The concept of the Earth as our Mother is also a biblical one: Adam is formed of the adamah. The woman is also particularly paralleled and associated with the earth in Genesis and elsewhere: she is the one from whom life comes and to whom it is bound (see also the parallels between the judgment on the woman and the place of the earth in the judgment on the man in Genesis 3).

Scripture presents the relationship between humanity and the earth as analogous in key respects to the relationship between man and woman. When we get one wrong, we will tend to get the other one wrong too. Without a recovery of the dignity of the mother at the heart of human society, our dysfunctional relationship with the world—our alienation from the world and reduction of the world to raw material for technique and power—will not truly be addressed. Conversely, a recovery of an ecological awareness offers peculiar possibilities for a renewed appreciation of the life-giving and communion-forming power of women.

As I noted earlier, modern society has not truly valued women’s sacrifices, nor committed itself to securing their meaning. A home or a wider realm of shared life in the world is a fragile thing and easily destroyed in a society that wishes to dissolve all bonds and free itself from all particularities in order to maximize power. The market’s drive to maximize production, for instance, has produced the conditions of ‘liquid modernity’ in which old bonds and stable structures are broken down and constant flux is all that remains. Michel Houellebecq comments upon the character of life in such a world:

Children existed [in the past] to inherit a man’s trade, his moral code, and his property. This was taken for granted among the aristocracy, but merchants, craftsmen, and peasants also bought into the idea, so it became the norm at every level of society. That’s all gone now: I work for someone else, I rent my apartment from someone else, there’s nothing for my son to inherit. I have no craft to teach him; I haven’t a clue what he might do when he’s older. By the time he grows up, the rules I lived by will have no value – he will live in another universe. If a man accepts the fact that everything must change, then he accepts that life is reduced to nothing more than the sum of his own experience; the past and future generations mean nothing to him. That’s how we live now. For a man to bring a child into the world now is meaningless.

The individualism of modern society is unsurprising because the horizons of meaning established by women’s labour of home-making and communion-forming are closed by the relentless forces of abstraction and alienation, which increase our autonomous power by weakening the power of all of our bonds. Every generation is a revolutionary break from its predecessor and a decadent parent of its successor. As peoplehood collapses into atomized, anonymous, and fluid society, we know that we will leave the patrimony of our communities and countries to those who will be strangers to us.

In such a society, it takes a peculiar courage and faith for a woman to recognize the daunting powers of liquid modernity arrayed against all of the bonds that she will form and prayerfully to cast the bread of her labours upon those waters nonetheless. The revolutionary character of the sacrifices of committed motherhood should not be underestimated. It is through women’s courageous determination to make such sacrifices and men’s unwavering protection and service of them that the human future is formed.

Yet the guilt that laces our culture’s sentimental celebration of motherhood is amply justified. In idealizing abstraction and alienation, and the maximization of autonomous power we created a world that is fundamentally hostile to the labour of women. As we have sacrificed or weakened our bonds to the particularities of the world—to families and homes, to neighbourhoods and communities, to congregations and churches, to specific ways of life and labour, to our towns, regions, and countries, and to our natural environments—to increase our power and autonomy, the homeliness and hospitality of the world has guttered. To the extent that homes and communities remain, they have retreated into small reservations of sentimental domesticity where we consume things together. Despite the material wealth displayed within them, they are starved of much of the life that once animated them.

If our power is to mean anything, it must be exercised in service of life and community, placing the mother once more at the heart of the world. If we truly honour the mother’s sacrifice, we will commit our own labour and order our society to securing its meaning.

Posted in Culture, Ethics, Politics, Sex and Sexuality, Society, Theological | 18 Comments

Artificial Wombs and the Abolition of Woman

A post of mine has just been published over on the Gospel Coalition website. Within it I discuss the developing technology of artificial wombs and some of the reasons why we might be concerned about their long term potential.

It’s important both to consider that ectogenesis would represented a critical step in the shift from begetting children to making them, and that we are already some way down this path on account of our cultural acceptance and normalization of contraception, abortion, IVF, and same-sex marriage. With each step, the associated logic carries greater power. For instance, natural sexual relations, conception, and gestation—within the context of a committed relationship—aren’t merely something we do in light of our beliefs about the humanity of the unborn. They are also means by which we perceive that humanity in the first place. The more that embryos are produced outside the intimacy of the woman’s body and outside the context of a loving interpersonal act only indirectly aimed at the end of procreation, the easier it is to view the embryo as mere biological material to be treated accordingly.

As I’ve maintained elsewhere, progressivism is transhumanist in its logic and fundamentally conflicts with nature. As the technology catches up, and its logic further leavens the social imaginary, we should expect progressivist ideology to yield ever more intimate assaults on human nature itself.

Read the whole thing here.

Posted in Culture, Ethics, Guest Post, Science, Sex and Sexuality, Society | 10 Comments

Escaping the Prison of Social Sensitivity

Social Sensitivity and its Dangers

It may surprise some people to learn this, but I have an intense aversion to social awkwardness, breach of social etiquette, and to other people’s social discomfort. If someone treads on my toe, I will instinctively apologize for the presence of my foot. I am still autopsying social events from years ago, replaying my actions and people’s responses and wondering how I came across, worried lest I thoughtlessly said something inconsiderate. Watching deeply socially awkward or fraught scenes on TV shows can be like torture for me. I can go to great lengths to smooth over unpleasant social relations and to avoid ‘scenes’.

I might flatter myself that this is about my hatred for seeing people being genuinely emotionally hurt. However, examining myself closer, it is clear to me that this instinctive hatred can be concentrated a lot more on my seeing than on the other’s actual hurting. Rather than a primarily compassionate instinct, this instinct is more about my hatred of a ‘scene’: when people’s troubles are well submerged beneath the tranquil surface of well-managed and pleasant social appearances I probably don’t have the same degree of instinctive concern about them.

Culture always tends to loom large in this sort of area. I am a stereotypical Englishman in many of these respects, with a characteristically acute sense of social propriety, politeness, and submission to social norms, albeit I suspect I feel these cultural instincts more strongly than many people around me. One should not draw unnecessary attention to oneself, one shouldn’t make a scene, one shouldn’t impose upon others, one shouldn’t be ‘loud’, one shouldn’t be impolite, one should avoid social awkwardness at all costs.

Living in a ‘guess culture’, if one needs a favour, for instance, one must undertake a subtle dance, indirectly indicating one’s need in a manner that gives one’s interlocutor plausible deniability of having recognized it, politely declining their offers of help a couple of times until they insist that you accept. People who come from ‘ask cultures’ have a far less delicate social fabric when it comes to many interactions. They can make or turn down requests directly. They can also deal with differences more openly and forthrightly.

While retaining my acute aversion to social awkwardness, I’ve often struggled with the stifling effects of contexts where so many social interactions are deeply awkward or uncomfortable, as the contexts are accommodated to very different personal sensitivities than my own. My favourite contexts are animated, forthright in communication, with lots of mutual interruption, some roughness, and plenty of competition, sparring, and playful teasing. These contexts, have always been liberating for me. They allow for lots of stimulating and robust interaction, with a minimal amount of social awkwardness. They aren’t awkward because one is afforded a lot more freedom in one’s interactions without violating the underlying social rules and damaging the social fabric. For people with low personal sensitivities but high social sensitivities, such contexts can be wonderful. Most differences can generally be dealt with and explored openly in such a setting, without provoking ill-will. This isn’t to say that there aren’t issues that can be socially awkward in such a setting, but they are considerably fewer in number.

As I’ve examined my own social sensitivity, I’ve become less inclined to presume that it is a virtue and more aware of its profound potential for vice. The strong instinct to preserve the social fabric undamaged and strictly observe the norms of comfortable social interactions has often been the very force that has buried unwelcome truth, individual suffering and need, sin and abuse.

Over the years, I’ve also come to be a lot more appreciative of people who are prepared to violate social sensitivities and etiquette on appropriate occasions, especially when they uphold and strengthen the social fabric the rest of the time. There can be a laudable courage in the person who is prepared to provoke social discomfort in themselves and others for the sake of the truth and righteousness, who is willing to tear the social fabric when and where it needs to be torn.

People who do this won’t often be appreciated. They hurt people’s feelings and they make the social environment unpleasant. They can provoke conflict in situations where compromise is an option.

 

Paul Griffiths and Duke

I was recently caused to think about all of this when following the controversy surrounding Paul Griffiths at Duke Divinity School, a situation which Rod Dreher has catalogued at some length on his blog. Griffiths faced disciplinary procedures following his challenging of a racial equity initiative in the Divinity School.

When Anathea Portier-Young, one of Griffiths’ colleagues, sent an email recommending the two-day course of racial equity training to the faculty (a course, which, incidentally, ran from 8:30am to 5pm on a Saturday and a Sunday), Griffiths sent a general response to the recipients of Portier-Young’s email:

I’m responding to Thea’s exhortation that we should attend the Racial Equity Institute Phase 1 Training scheduled for 4-5 March. In her message she made her ideological commitments clear. I’ll do the same, in the interests of free exchange.

I exhort you not to attend this training. Don’t lay waste your time by doing so. It’ll be, I predict with confidence, intellectually flaccid: there’ll be bromides, clichés, and amen-corner rah-rahs in plenty. When (if) it gets beyond that, its illiberal roots and totalitarian tendencies will show. Events of this sort are definitively anti-intellectual. (Re)trainings of intellectuals by bureaucrats and apparatchiks have a long and ignoble history; I hope you’ll keep that history in mind as you think about this instance.

We here at Duke Divinity have a mission. Such things as this training are at best a distraction from it and at worst inimical to it. Our mission is to thnk, read, write, and teach about the triune Lord of Christian confession. This is a hard thing. Each of us should be tense with the effort of it, thrumming like a tautly triple-woven steel thread with the work of it, consumed by the fire of it, ever eager for more of it. We have neither time nor resources to waste. This training is a waste. Please, ignore it. Keep your eyes on the prize.

Making apparent reference to Griffiths’ letter, Elaine Heath, the Dean of the Divinity School, wrote:

It is certainly appropriate to use mass emails to share announcements or information that is helpful to the larger community, such as information about the REI training opportunity. It is inappropriate and unprofessional to use mass emails to make disparaging statements—including arguments ad hominem—in order to humiliate or undermine individual colleagues or groups of colleagues with whom we disagree. The use of mass emails to express racism, sexism, and other forms of bigotry is offensive and unacceptable, especially in a Christian institution.

This email exchange led to a crisis in which Griffiths was subjected to two disciplinary procedures: one initiated by Heath and another for harassment initiated by Portier-Young (for using racist or sexist speech in a manner that would create a hostile workplace).

Griffiths was not without his supporters. Thomas Pfau observed that the racial equity training programme was merely the latest of many burdensome impositions placed upon the faculty by the administration and that the suggestion that Griffiths’ message could be said to constitute an expression of ‘racism, sexism, and other forms of bigotry’ was ‘either gravely imperceptive or as intellectually dishonest.’

 

Community Concerns

It is important to bear in mind that all of this occurs within a context of heightened sensitivities surrounding race in Duke University and Divinity School. The following video is from the Dean of Trinity College at Duke University, Valerie Ashby:

In an open letter to Rod Dreher, Daniel LaVenture also writes:

…as a member of the DDS community myself, I am not automatically aware of all sides of the issue, but my membership forces me to be open to them. I have seen firsthand the issues in the Office of Black Church Studies which led to the policies now being discussed. I have seen the impact the loss of Black faculty has had on my fellow seminarians, especially those of color. And I cannot ignore their plight. I’ve seen the nuanced rationales for these policies, and I cannot deny them. Whether or not I support the decisions of DDS administration is indifferent; by virtue of being a part of the DDS community, I am able to assent or dissent to them with a personal kind of knowledge that someone from without simply cannot have.

This, of course, opens up into a wider set of implications. The present issues at DDS are far more than a debate over liberal and conservative principles of policy. They are about navigating the complex life of a community, and a particularly diverse one at that. And because this is not merely a political battle, an episode in the greater so-called culture war, your commentary really doesn’t help us in the slightest. Bringing in the opinions of the American Conservosphere only serves to further polarize an already polarized situation that doesn’t really concern them. This is an issue not simply of politics, but of two ancient Christian principles: koinonia and oikonomia—communal life and “household management.”

Such concerns are by no means baseless or unreasonable. I discussed the issue of social sensitivity above. However, I didn’t sufficiently highlight what can be at stake in social sensitivity. While it may often merely be a matter of minimizing people’s discomfort in potentially awkward situations or interactions, there are many times when we are struggling to shore up a group of people’s precarious sense of belonging within our community. Our practice or non-practice of sensitivity can serve to draw the lines of community, with people on the margins either being placed inside or out by our behaviour. In many such cases, insensitivity can fracture the group, causing some people to feel like outsiders. Navigating such fraught communal relationships can be jeopardized when people without the community interject themselves into its struggles.

 

Communities and their Missions

Diverse communities are often extremely fragile, and unable to sustain the same sort of pressures and stresses that less diverse communities can. For instance, the more diverse a community is, the weaker it may be when it comes to the task of rigorous stress-testing of ideas or enquiry. The fragility of the social bonds can mean that many subjects must be avoided and many punches must be pulled. Diversity can exact heavy costs and, indeed, in many instances communities and societies may need to place limits upon diversity, for the sake of their missions or other ends. The notion that diversity is an unalloyed good in itself is a dangerous error, no matter how attractive this claim can be in situations where diversity is simply a fact on the ground to which we must accommodate ourselves.

In this area, we will often face direct trade-offs between the diverse community as an end in itself and the other ends towards which such a community may be ordered, trade-offs about which we should be more honest. It should be noted that this is an issue underlying much contemporary discourse about the university and free speech. There is a conflict between those whose interest is primarily the maintenance of vulnerable people’s precarious sense of belonging in the fragile diverse community of the university and those whose interest is primarily the university’s serving of its academic ends as a realm and agency of free, open, and challenging enquiry.

As universities have become more diverse places, they have often been at risk of subordinating their academic ends to their increasingly demanding communal ends. We should notice the way that values of community and belonging are at the heart of so many of the protests against controversial speakers on campuses, for instance. The social fabric is fragile and so the open expression of sharp conflicts of belief can’t easily be sustained.

‘Political correctness’ is the diverse society’s regime of politeness, which prevents people from being hurt and alienated from the community, but which also prevents certain truths, often profoundly necessary truths, from being spoken (one such truth being that diversity has many costly trade-offs and that there may be many occasions when it is more a regrettable necessity than a healthy ideal).

Political correctness is typically maligned by conservatives, but it is important to recognize both the fundamentally well-intentioned instincts from which it often arises and the many wilful violations of the social fabric that it prevents. It is also important to recognize the way that many purposefully provocative movements against political correctness ‘burn the commons’ of society, rather than seeking to create a healthier and more robust society with a more sustainable commons.

 

Preference Falsification, Exit Masks and Voice Masks

Sustaining diverse communities and the political correctness that tends to accompany them isn’t easy. They can place a heavy burden of ‘preference falsification’, as Sarah Perry has discussed: people must disguise their private preferences if they want to enjoy status, belonging, and security. Political correctness is the ‘sacredness’ that preserves the current social order. A politically correct position, such as the goodness of same-sex marriage, is sacred, something that is ‘so important that we agree not to examine it too closely, and to only speak of it in respectful, ideologically correct terms.’ Over time, preference falsification can have the effect of ‘preference husbandry’, as people’s interior beliefs are slowly conformed to the sacred public ones.

Venkatesh Rao explores these dynamics further, introducing the concepts of ‘voice masks’ and ‘exit masks’. He describes them as follows:

Consider first the difference between two masks: putting on a brave face (say when you’re in adult trapped in a dangerous situation with a child, where you cannot admit you’re scared or worried) and political correctness (say you’re at an office party where you cannot be completely candid). Both are voice masks; masks you put on when you have to pretend to agree with a sentiment you actively disagree with. You relieve the strain of voice masks by moving to a social context where you can speak more freely, and express your real emotions more completely. In the former case, it would be nice to have another adult around—making it a larger group—to share fears and anxieties with after the child goes to bed. In the latter case, it would be nice to retreat for drinks with a couple of trusted friends—a smaller group—to have a more candid chat about current workplace politics.

Now consider two other kinds of masks: pretending to enjoy yourself (say at a family gathering or a graduation ceremony where people who care a lot more are deeply immersed in the proceedings) and pretending to be interested (such as when listening to a boring but influential person drone on in a situation where leaving would cause offense and repercussions). These are exit masks: masks you put on when you have to pretend to care. You relieve the strain by moving to a social context where you don’t have to speak or fake an emotional intensity you don’t feel. Again, in the first case, you might relieve the stress by moving to a larger group that affords greater anonymity (such as a big city) and in the former case by retreating to a smaller group (perhaps going for a walk alone to unwind and get the bullshit out of your head).

These are opposed drives: moving in social space to speak and emote more versus moving in social space to speak and emote less. Of the two, exit masks are more basic: it is only hard to pretend to agree when you care. If you don’t care to begin with, pretending to agree adds no additional strain. You’ll nod along to whatever. Pretending to care is emotional bullshitting. Pretending to agree is emotional lying.

Societies that depend upon extensive preference falsification can put a lot of strain on their members, a strain that is intensified where contexts within which we can remove our masks are denied us.

Freddie deBoer’s recent post on the ‘backchannel’ highlights some of this problem. Official ideology, the stifling effect of diverse and/or dense society, and the imperative of the cause leads people to falsify their opinions in public, when many of them voice different opinions in those private settings where they are safe to remove their masks. The high social sensitivity of the public group prevents criticism from being voiced there: people must wear ‘voice masks’. However, the pressure of wearing a voice mask leads people to seek private outlets where they can be relieved of the burden of their masks and speak their minds on issues they care about. What becomes apparent as a result is that the public orthodoxy owes much of its strength to preference falsification, to the fact that it is protected from challenge on account of its sacredness, or the sacredness of those advancing it.

 

Diversity and Politeness as Ideology

In discussing the Duke Divinity School situation, Dreher quotes at great length from Václav Havel’s “The Power of the Powerless” essay on the issue of conformity, ideology, and power. Havel explores the way in which ideology sustains and advances the interests of power, causing people to conform and step in line through the fear, paranoia, and mutual policing that subscription to the official ideology enables people to dissemble.

This is definitely a powerful analogy to the way that ‘social justice’ ideology functions in society today, and is an analogy that I myself have recently drawn. However, there are differences to which we should also attend here. The strength of Havel’s totalitarian society is chiefly operative on a vertical plane, from the rulers of society downwards. This contrasts with our society, where its strength is primarily in horizontal relations, in the power of the group to reward those who conform and discipline those who don’t with social sanctions of ostracization or acceptance and inclusion.

The growth of social justice ideology arises in no small measure from the fact that it is an advanced and highly developed system of etiquette for diverse society. People want to conform to it in order both to feel like good and decent people and to belong to the in-group, defined by its high cultivation of manners. Diversity conveys legitimacy and political correctness and social justice ideology are mechanisms by which this is sustained. In turn, political correctness upholds diversity itself as a great ideal to be pursued. However, the socially enforced etiquette is a powerful vehicle of ideological oppression, pressing people into a conformity that can squeeze out truth and genuine difference.

This whole situation is intensified by the Internet, which collapses groups into poorly differentiated yet diverse and socially saturated contexts. In such large and diverse contexts, the horizontal mechanisms of social conformity are greatly empowered. The increased diversity and social saturation produces a more intense policing of ourselves and others when it comes to socially discomforting speech. I want to speak my mind openly, yet I know that several of the people who follow me on Twitter or elsewhere would be hurt by my expression of my beliefs: do I keep silent, or do I speak my mind? Likewise, whenever I speak, other people will be mindful of vulnerable and highly sensitive people they know who could be hurt by my words and might strike out against me in defence of the social fabric.

Those with generally high personal sensitivity or with specific sensitivities are always near at hand, and we must always be on our guard lest we offend them. It is no longer so possible to shield them from exposure to unsettling conversations, ensuring both the protection of the vulnerable and the possibility of pursuing challenging conversations. We must choose one or the other. Our own social sensitivity and that of others around us will make discussion of challenging issues difficult, and make it increasingly likely that such discussions will be either smothered or devolve into conflict.

 

Modes of Society and Sensibilities

I have already suggested that social sensibility operates differently in different kinds of society. There are rougher, more open, and less intimate communities where the burden of preference falsification is relatively low and there isn’t the same expectation to wear voice and exit masks. These are the sort of communities that advocates of free speech tend to value. Within these communities you can speak your mind, without having to worry so much about other people’s feelings. The strength of such communities often derives from the shared sense of liberation that those within them feel when relieved of the preference falsifications and masks of polite society in their common activity of acting and speaking openly with each other.

On the other hand, there are other sorts of communities, which are either much more socially saturated, intimate, and personal, or considerably more diverse. In both such cases, high personal sensitivities produce a situation where the burden of preference falsifications and masks can be quite intense. In the first case, the social fabric is so closely woven that there isn’t much room for movement without tearing it. In such contexts, disagreement swiftly devolves into personal attacks and consolidations of the social fabric (for an example of this, see the recent Tuvel controversy). In the second case, the social fabric is so weak that one can’t easily challenge others without tearing it. Once again, disagreement can be highly personal in such an environment, albeit for slightly different reasons. In both of these environments persons tend to eclipse issues: the reception of what you say is radically dependent upon who you are.

I’ve commented on these dynamics before in relation to the sexes: more female-typical society tends to be considerably more dense than more male-typical society and much less accommodating of difference and disagreement. Within such a context, the need to maintain a tight knit social fabric tends to require that conflict be handled indirectly. In many (not all) respects, such a context may also be much more demanding of preference falsification and mask-wearing (and of corresponding highly intimate private contexts where the masks can be removed with a very close friend).

A great many of our arguments today are about the conflicts of interest between societies with either very weak or dense social fabrics and societies with loose and accommodating social fabrics. As our contexts become less segregated by gender and more diverse, open and challenging speech is increasingly experienced as an assault upon the social fabric itself. For instance, it is incredibly difficult to have a theological argument with a woman on social media as a man (and often even as a woman too), as the social fabric cannot easily sustain it: the woman may feel personally attacked and men may rush to her defence and the defence of the social fabric. While the defence of the social fabric may protect and enhance the woman’s sense of belonging, it doesn’t do much for the service of the truth.

We must recognize the degree to which diversity and inclusion have been engines for the propagation of error within the Church and society over the last few decades. Our not inappropriate social sensitivity towards precarious members of society and towards women has led us to exempt such persons and their ideas from much of the challenging stress-testing to which we expose ideas voiced by men. Unfortunately, where the generally healthy social norm of not treating women as combatants and protecting them from conflict has held sway, all sorts of pernicious falsehoods have been allowed to develop unchecked in the academy and Church.

Polite men who are unpersuaded by feminist ideology, for instance, just keep their mouths shut so as not to make women feel threatened. Other men with a strong sense of duty towards women will rush to their aid against the supposed misogynist men who challenge them. Patently erroneous feminist and queer ideologies have been greatly protected by the way that decent and socially sensitive men are trained to act towards women. In Christian contexts, certain women, protected from direct and forceful challenge by social etiquette and a ‘palace guard’ of men who will rush to their defence if they appear to be attacked, have been able to advance error while smearing those who would challenge them as misogynists.

 

Weaponized Sensitivity

People with high personal sensitivity can gain a great deal of social control on account of the many people with high social sensitivity, who are deeply concerned for the protection and strengthening of the social fabric. This creates a dangerous incentive, however. If one gains power through high personal sensitivity, becoming more sensitive is the route to more power. Vulnerability and weakness can be weaponized to get one’s way in society.

While a healthy society might steadily push people towards the development of thicker skins, encouraging growth in strength, a society with powerful etiquette and intense social sensitivity is easily held hostage by those who are the quickest to take offence, be emotionally wounded, or make a scene. This problem is heightened by our glorification of inclusion and diversity, which can all too easily prevent us from exercising the necessary discrimination in forming communities that are apt for the pursuit of truth and genuine justice. This discrimination may not be a binary choice between inclusion and exclusion, but may be more a matter of forming differentiated and diversified communities, where conflict occurs in more clearly defined and protected contexts, for instance, contexts set apart from other contexts where different social norms prevail.

 

Rudeness

Returning to the Duke Divinity situation, some have argued that Griffiths was exceedingly rude in the way he handled things. I don’t think this claim should be dismissed: he was rude. He violated etiquette, openly and forcefully challenged a female colleague before other faculty members, created conflict in a situation where compromise was relatively easy, struck the sacred cow of race theory, and generally made himself unpleasant.

However, where I differ from Griffiths’ critics is in my conviction that such rudeness may be increasingly necessary in some situations. The power of the new illiberalism often isn’t fear of direct coercion so much as our fear of the stick of social ostracization or judgment and our deep desire for the carrot of being considered ‘nice’ people. It is the power of social sensitivity, a power which social media has considerably amplified.

Griffiths broke with etiquette by forcefully and openly challenging a female colleague in a way that made her feel harassed. As I’ve already suggested, male and female groups tend to handle conflict differently. Griffiths broke with general social norms by initiating a conflictual situation with a woman, treating her in the sort of way that men are more likely to treat each other when they have strong disagreements. He was arguably a bit of an asshole.

Likewise, Griffiths attacked the sacred cow of race equity ideology. Once again this is an area where a great deal of falsehood has been sheltered by our healthy concern not to appear racist or to side with forces of oppression and to ensure that people of colour are treated with justice and fairness. Prevailing race equity ideology is a sacred ideology that establishes the form of preference falsification that undergirds diverse society.

Decent and socially sensitive people know better than to question the discourses around race, even when we can see glaring holes in them. We quietly go along with things, not raising objections, attending the training programmes, rightly not wanting people of colour to feel that they are in a hostile environment. However, we are increasingly seeing the discourses surrounding race and sexuality making ever more unreasonable demands upon us and our society (for instance, in calling the faculty of a divinity school to spend the entirety of their Sunday attending a racial equity course, rather than prioritizing worship). The ideology of anti-racism, gender equality, and LGBT rights have become sacred ideologies, and, in many quarters, tantamount to an idol. We don’t feel able to resist: we don’t want to be perceived as racists, misogynists, or homophobes. Yet the masks are weighing heavily upon us.

The problem is that when the oppressive and destructive power of the ideologies being advanced is, to a very significant degree, employing the vehicle of politeness, niceness, etiquette, due process and procedure, considerateness, collegiality, etc., we will need to be prepared to act in rude and impolite ways if we are to push back against it. Social sensitivity has become pathological in a great many contexts. It is almost impossible to present any serious challenge to the ideology without stepping on toes, breaking social norms, moving out of your own lane, disregarding proper procedure, or coming across as rude and inconsiderate. We will probably need to develop a greater tolerance for other people’s discomfort and for our own discomfort at the breaking of social etiquette.

Without people who are prepared to be rude and tear the social fabric on appropriate occasions, the preference falsifications expand beyond all control and force us to double down on socially obliging falsehoods to keep the social peace. People who are prepared to be rude or impolite on appropriate occasions, without just being obnoxious in character or for the sake of it, can perform a crucial cultural role in protecting us from the pathologies of politeness, forcing us to face up to the dysfunctions of ‘polite society’.

The person who is capable of being prudently rude and unpleasant has a gift that we need, but seldom adequately appreciate. We are increasingly in need of people with the nerve and the wisdom to violate norms of politeness when they have become pathological, without simply rejecting politeness altogether. People who are the slaves of politeness irrespective of whether it is functioning in a healthy or unhealthy fashion lack an important ability.

 

Moving Forward

While rudeness has its appropriate occasions, it doesn’t really provide a sustainable solution to the problems that now face us. Rudeness can all too easily attack the oppressive preference falsifications that bind us, while failing to address itself to the task of securing social cohesion, the task that, however imperfectly, the preference falsifications currently serve. Rudeness is primarily a destructive force. It can tear the social fabric at points where it needs to be torn, but it cannot provide a healthier social fabric in its place.

It seems to me that the alternative requires considerable prudence, but should fundamentally be pursued along three lines:

First, we need to push people towards the cultivation of strength and beware of incentivizing or facilitating the weaponizing of high sensitivity.

Second, on the other hand, we must recognize the often healthy intent of social sensitivity and be considerably more mindful of the integrity of the social fabric when pursuing the good of open and challenging speech in service of the truth. Protecting, strengthening, and wisely ordering the social fabric is essential to the task of pursuing free and open discourse. A well-ordered social fabric sustains and empowers speech and persuasion. No genuine solution to our problems can be arrived at by pitting the one against the other.

Third, we need to create diversified societies and social institutions, which preserve heterogeneous forms of sociality, while being ordered towards the pursuit of truth in community. Different people will find different niches within such societies and communities, rather than being treated interchangeably. Such societies will require structures of representation and advocacy. They will also require well-defined realms and social norms applicable to them. Upholding the boundaries between realms of discourse will be necessary, so that no form of discourse overruns others. Undifferentiated inclusion of all parties in all realms should be resisted—we must give space to each other. However, we must also encourage consistent intervolvement between groups within our communities.

All of this requires a movement beyond the reactive struggle between the political correctness pursued by the highly socially sensitive and the free speech pursued by those with much lower personal and social sensitivity. The task facing us is less of a culture war than a social construction project. Within this project we should seek to collaborate to the degree that we can, aiming to produce a society that works for everyone.

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