I’ll get to my own take on the situation in a moment. But first, I want to point out an article on the following web site: Edge Boston. This is a site dedicated to gay interest and advocacy. So naturally they take an interest in the story, just as many Catholic news sites have taken an interest in the story.

Now, it’s awfully tempting to toe the line of whatever agenda or issue you’re focused on. But what impressed me about their article was how truly balanced and restrained it was. The author, Killian Melloy, resisted the temptations of inflammatory language or condemnation of those he disagrees with – temptations all too common on the internet. Rather, he provides as fully he can the details surrounding the event. He describes the event in such a way that the reader can draw his or her own conclusions. This kind of restraint is laudable. It provides the reader a service by offering the matter for thought and argument rather than imposing a conclusion.

My own take on controversy

Now, I normally don’t like to wade into controversy myself. I usually am far too ignorant of the issues involved to have anything worth adding to the discussion. Moreover, I find my emotions tend to get involved in ways I don’t notice until it’s too late and I’ve said something in anger or fear that I can’t retract. That lack of self-control is a definite vice on my part.

So, in this case, I have more questions than answers. For example:

• Was Howell fired or was a completed contract simply not renewed?
• Did the university cite Howell’s statements as providing cause for his dismissal?
• What exactly did the students find offensive or hateful in Howell’s statements, and how does that compare with the literal meaning of Howell’s statements?
• and so on….

Apparently, Howell is suing the university; and it seems he may have a strong case. After all, he was hired to teach about Catholic beliefs and practices. Should a professor who gives a class on the Ku Klux Klan be fired for describing the Klan’s hatred of Catholics, Jews, and non-whites? Should a professor who teaches about Islam be let go for acknowledging that women and men have very different statuses in Muslim faith and practice?

However, there’s much that remains unknown. And without all the facts, I’m in no position to pass judgment on the students, the professor, or the university. (Even with the facts, I have no authority in the matter, and so….)

Melloy seems to realize that he is in exactly the same position. So he refrains from passing judgment in his article. He describes reality as best he is able. By doing so, he renders justice both to his subject and to his readers.

In principium, Deus creavit...

Actually, I’m serious. By “order,” I mean specifically teleological order. In non-techno-babble, that means, whether things are in and of themselves directed to an end beyond themselves. The classic example is the eye: the eye is ordered toward the sense of sight, and so an eye that does not see is a “bad” eye.

Order and morality

Now, someone might object that you can’t blame the eye for being blind. And that’s true. So it’s important to distinguish between what’s called “ontological evil” and “moral evil.” “Ontological evil,” or evil in “being,” is simply the lack of full existence or perfection in a thing. A diseased tree, or a collapsed bridge, or a blind eye is “bad” because it lacks the fullness of what it is to BE a tree, or a bridge, or an eye.

“Moral evil,” on the other hand, involves the freedom of the will. Without personal freedom, there can be no “bad” or “evil” except in the ontological sense. For something to be evil in a moral sense, it must be a bad choice

Now, according to Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas and those who follow their tradition, the mind has several major parts, two of which are the intellect and the will. The purpose of the intellect is to understand things abstractly. The purpose of the will is to choose freely. If the intellect has a problem – for example, my intellect has great difficulty grasping poetry and metaphor, but thrives on mathematics – then we recognize that as a problem in the mind. I tell people that I’m “bad” with poetry, and they know what I mean.

If the will has a problem, it affects a person’s ability to choose freely. Sometimes this is a mental illness; for example, a psychopath is not free to act empathetically, or even responsibly. But often, we limit our own freedom by our very choices themselves. If I choose to insult you, I am no longer free to be your friend.

The slavery of vice

Now, part of the nature of the will is to develop habits. Habits are to the will what memory is to the intellect: they keep us from having to re-invent the wheel every time we hit the road. So, a virtuous habit is one that protects, or even extends the freedom of the will. Vice, on the other hand, increasingly limits the will’s freedom.

But this freedom is not freedom to do anything at any time; it is freedom to fulfill the nature of the person. It is freedom to pursue the good.

The best image I’ve found is that of a piano keyboard. Anyone at any time is free to hit any key or combination of keys on the keyboard. (This is what Pinckaers calls “freedom of indifference.”) But only someone who has practiced a great deal is free to play Debussy, or to compose an original work of music.

Now, every moment of every day, our will faces at least 88 possible choices of what to do next. If we practice making those choices well, with an idea of harmony or rhythm or beauty in mind, then we will develop habits that allow us to make more interesting and more complex and more, well, good choices. The will really does become more free, more fulfilled in achieving its purpose.

But if we simply hammer away at life according to mood or blind emotion, like a piano student who refuses to adopt proper posture or fingering, then we limit our freedom and risk hurting both ourselves and the instrument – that is, everybody around us.

Natural morality

This view of the human person, one who has a purpose or an end in both being and acting, and whose purpose is to pursue greater and greater goods, is the foundation of any theory of natural rights, or natural law, or natural morality of any kind.

Some thinkers have tried to do away with “human nature” without losing universal morality, but I haven’t found any of them (that I’ve read) to be convincing.

Others have noted that it’s incredibly difficult to pin down exactly what’s involved in “human nature” and have accepted that rejecting nature also means rejecting any universal morality. But then why do even they act as if moral questions remained vital? Dostoyevski’s Crime and Punishment is a brilliant exploration of the problems with this way of thinking.

So that’s largely why I’m convinced that there really is such a thing as human nature, and that the nature of the will is to choose freely, and that virtue is the true path to freedom and fulfillment and happiness.

But I’ve been talking too much. Looking forward to continuing the conversation.

Perhaps a start would be the argument that there is a natural order to the world, and things work better when we cooperate with it. Plants die without life. Cows were made to eat grass. We live longer if we exercise and eat our veggies than if we sit in front of the TV and eat cookies all day every day. Men’s and women’s bodies each operate in ways that the other cannot.

If you were able to argue that following the natural order is a moral obligation, you could argue that….

This touches on, I think, the different moral roles of virtue and law.

Virtue enables us to realize the full potential of our nature and, according to Catholic teaching, of our supernatural gifts. Law, on the other hand, prevents us from (or at least warns us against) acting contrary to our nature. Virtue motivates us to reach for excellence, but places no obligations, strictly speaking, on us. Law places obligations on us, both positive and negative ones, but only obliges us to a bare minimum.

Law does not ask us to fulfill our nature; it only demands that we not act contrary to it. It does not strive for excellence. It is a stop-gap against excessive vice.

Now, ever since the so-called “Enlightenment” (if I understand my history correctly) western culture has been obsessed with the notion of law, and has largely forgotten the idea of virtue. This is why “morality” immediately brings to mind the idea of obligation.

But virtue sets a higher standard. Or, to put it another way, it opens up a broader field of possibility. Morality is not just about jumping through hoop X and avoiding pitfall Q. Morality is about living my life in a way that fulfills its potential, that brings to reality the potential good that is within me.

And that good is both for me and from me. It is good for me to be healthy. It is also good for me to serve my neighbor with whatever gifts I have. Indeed, serving my neighbor with my gifts is good for me as well, because it exercises and brings to greater perfection those gifts themselves. And it feels good to do so, which is a sign of health in using those gifts.

When we’re focused on obligation, feeling good is taken as a sign of not meeting an obligation. But when we’re focused on excellence, feeling good is a sign of health, of growth.

So much more to say, but I also want to prepare a reply to bob. So, till soon…!

A wicked left hook

A reader named bob commented on a previous post:

Simply asserting that rights are moral concepts does not make them so, otherwise I could assert anything.

This followed on an argument about whether “I have a right” could imply an “ought”, such as, “you ought to respect my right.”

My point was that it is one thing to say, “I have a right to free speech,” and another to say, “I have a wicked left hook.” Both are assertions of fact. But the first is a moral assertion whereas the second is merely descriptive. This is because (as I stated in my reply to bob) “right” is itself a moral concept: like justice, or love, or honor, the term itself contains “ought” as well as “is.”

Now, I think bob took me to be saying that “right” is a morally good or valid concept. So he gives the following examples:

By declaring “rights” as inherently moral, just because we define them as such, we open the door to use that language to justify anything. I have the right to eat ice cream. I have the right to drink beer.

I had no intention of playing either Tweedle-dum or Tweedle-dee. Rather, I meant that by using the language of rights, we automatically involve judgments about obligations and relationships between persons, because such judgments are contained in the definition of “right”.

That doesn’t mean we have to assent to every claim of a right. It only means we need to take it seriously as a moral claim, and judge whether the claim is true or not.

Natural rights and civil rights

Now, I take it for granted that we can all agree about civil rights. Civil rights are rights granted by the State, such as the right to vote or the right to remain silent. These rights can be revoked. They may be limited to a certain group of people such as, citizens, or adults over the age of 18, and so on. The question of whether so-and-so has a civil right to such-and-such can be determined in a court of law.

What bob calls into question is whether there are (or can be) natural rights, also known as “rights of Man” or “human rights.”

It’s a good question. In my previous post, I stated that a right is sort of the flip side of a duty. If you have a duty toward me, then I have a right to what is due me. If I have a right, then someone has a duty to respect that right. So, even though I think there’s far too much talk these days about rights, and far too little about duty, I’m willing to fight for the reality of rights. If there are no such things as rights, then it seems to me that there are likewise no such things as duties.

Now, a natural right (or a natural duty) is one that follows from nature. That is, the basis and foundation of these rights (and duties) is my human nature.

But a right is a kind of ownership of something, and a duty is a kind of debt. Both are kinds of relationships to other people. They do not exist in an isolated individual, but they necessarily exist in a community. You cannot interact with other people for very long without agreeing about who may or may not do this or use that.

So, the question is, is human nature essentially communal or individual? Are we meant to live together in mutual support, or are we independent and therefore competitive when we encounter one another.

That’s a critically important question, but I’ll leave it for another post.

It ends where it began

I actually dreamed about “Lost” last night. Scary. I should definitely talk to my therapist about that.

Anyway, here’s something approaching a thoughtful response to the “Lost” series finale, and actually to “Lost” as a whole. Needless to say, there will be SPOILERS in this post, so if you haven’t yet seen the finale, you can watch it on Hulu. And if you haven’t seen the rest of the series, well, most of what I say won’t make sense anyway.

What “Lost” found

Let me start with what I loved about “Lost.”

First and foremost, Hugo “Hurley” Reyes. Easily the heart of the show, Hurley has been the only character I have never lost hope for, and my hope was not disappointed. As soon as Jacob’s “candidates” were mentioned, I declared that I wanted Hurley to end up as the new Jacob. He was the only one whom I would trust with The Island, and I’m pleased to see that the writers agreed with me.

I loved that it ended with “nobody dies alone”. A major theme of the whole show was the forming and challenging of relationship and of community. As a Catholic, I see shadows of the idea of the communion of saints here, and the idea that none of us ever is utterly alone or disconnected from the rest of humanity.

I was super-pleased to see Sayid and Ben find a kind of redemption. I was particularly worried about Sayid after he lost his emotions, but it’s clear that his growth in virtue over the years was not lost – not entirely, anyway.

I could go on for hours listing all the details and small beauties of the show, but I’ll simply say that I loved the fact that the writers took each and every character (with the possible exception of Kate, who at times seemed little more than the prize that Jack and Sawyer were competing for,) seriously, and gave each one room to grow and develop. I loved that they took the mystery of The Island seriously, and left even Jacob a bit in the dark (so to speak) about the Light. I loved that they took morality seriously, and showed how each character’s choices formed and changed his or her personality. Despite the bizarre and sometimes inexplicable turns of events, the writers basically kept the characters real, and that invited me (and the rest of the viewing public, I hope,) to give the show what Tolkien called “secondary belief”: an honor due only to a really creative (or sub-creative) world.

My problems with “Lost”

That said, “Lost” was far from perfect. And the finale in particular brought out a number of the most serious problems with the show. Being a hyper-critical kind of guy, I just can’t let those imperfections pass without comment.

To start with, the “LA story” of this final season ultimately didn’t hold together for me. I get that it’s a kind of purgatory, but I don’t quite get Eloise Hawking’s warnings to Desmond – does she really know what kind of reality she’s in? And I don’t entirely understand the presence of Jack’s son. Is this a “younger Jack” (like the “younger Jacob” that appeared on the Island)? And what does Ben still have to work through in this “place”? Maybe his relationship with his father? Not really clear.

Most of all, the whole, “This is a place you created together, so that you could find each other again,” just doesn’t make the connection that I think they’re trying to make to their life on The Island. It makes it all feel like a gimmick to get the whole cast back together for a sentimental ending. I think I would have bought, “This is a gift from the Island for the service each of you provided,” or something along those lines, but the way it was is just metaphysically muddy to say the least.

Which actually brings me back to The Island. From the first season, The Island was developed as a kind of living being, with a will and a character of its own. I think the “Across the Sea” episode was intended to draw together the threads of The Island’s own story. But come on … a Light at the Heart of The Island – oooh! I want something a little more.

My main question about The Island throughout the series has been, what is the connection between The Island and the rest of the world? And despite Alison Janney’s explanation that “if the light goes out there, it goes out everywhere,” I just don’t buy it. I need to see that there’s a real connection between the state of the Light on The Island and the state of … hope? humanity? something in the rest of the world. And when the Light is “uncorked” in the finale, well, it turns red, and dimmer, and Smokey becomes mortal, and the Island shakes, and… it doesn’t seem to affect the persons the way it should if the light within them is threatened. Wouldn’t they all have become like Sayid, or like the Smoke Monster? or something?

So, ultimately, I’m left wondering what the whole point of The Island is in the first place. I wonder what really would have been so bad about the Light going out and The Island sinking into the sea. What difference would it make?

So that’s a rather disappointing place to be.

And, in the end…

As with the things I loved, I have tons of nit-picks that aren’t worth going into. Overall, “Lost” was an ambitious and often inspiring show, and I don’t regret a moment I spent watching it. Maybe it failed in its ultimate aim, but the effort was a worthy one on every count, and I have learned a great deal about myself and about telling stories from the show.

And that’s quite a lot for one show to accomplish.

Many mistakenly think that the caduseus (or Staff of Hermes) is the symbol of medicine, but in fact the Staff of Asclepius is the correct medical symbol

As far as I can tell, there were two major objections to the health care bill that just passed the House. The first, coming from political conservatives and libertarians, objected to any government involvement at all. The second, coming from pro-life people of conscience, objected to the expansion of funding for abortion.

Obviously, the first group are most vocally dissatisfied. They’ve just plain lost.

As to the desires of the second group, it’s hard to say whether President Obama’s promised executive order will truly satisfy them. I suppose history will tell.

As for those who supported the bill, well, they speak as if this is a victory on the level of ending slavery or segregation. This bill has put an end to a great evil and has opened the door for a great good.

What fascinates me is how almost all the conversation about health care I’ve heard (and been involved with) in the past year is based in ideas of morality, of ethics. Almost none of it focused on the practical, concrete aspects of the bill. If someone disagreed with someone else about health care, that person wasn’t just wrong; he or she was bad, evil, a hater of the human race and all things American.

It’s about right and wrong – in a way

Now, I’m sure at least half of you will find something to disagree with on this blog. In fact, if you read long enough, it’s probably inevitable that I’ll say something that rubs you wrong or insults a principle that you hold dear. I know that’s the case with me: even the writers and friends I’m most like-minded with sometimes say or do things I consider downright stupid. And let’s face it, I’m no better than any of them.

But when these disagreements happen, even when we disagree about really serious moral issues like abortion or warfare or whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher, it’s critical to remember that it’s a person that I’m arguing with.

It’s a person who has reasons for his or her opinion. It’s a person who is trying to do and say what seems best to him or her. It’s a person, not an animal or a monster.

A person’s arguments can be wrong, or can lead to evil conclusions. But a person, in and of him- or herself, is never evil. So the goal of every argument is not to figure out who is right or wrong; an argument is not about judging a person. Instead, an argument helps us figure out what is right or wrong, what is good or bad, so that we can together follow what is good and avoid what is evil.

How to fight fairly

So, I find the quickest way to quiet my own anger when someone disagrees with me is to put myself in their shoes. Why, I ask myself – and sometimes the other person directly, does this person think that way?

This has a double benefit: first, it reminds me that this is another person and the goal is to find the truth together; second, it helps me see the strengths and weaknesses of their argument, so that I can see what’s right and wrong more clearly.

If I’m able to explore the question with them, it also lowers the level of anger and frustration. Even if nobody “wins” the argument, if we don’t walk away in perfect agreement, we at least have agreed to understand one another.

For the record

So, on health care: I’m for universal availability of health care; I’m against abortion (as well as other elective procedures) being included in basic health care; I don’t have a principled objection to government involvement, but I’m highly suspicious of our current governmental structures. I think the “health care exchange” is maybe the best part of the bill. I’m sure history will tell us what the worst part of the bill is.

There, I’ve said what I think. Feel free to disagree with my argument; just don’t dis my person – or anyone else’s, if you please.

I, the party of the first part....

I was listening to the radio on the way into work this morning and heard a story about how some scientists are afraid they’ll have to throw out the past eight years’ worth of research on human embryonic stem cells.

The reason? It seems that proper consent was not obtained for some of the stem cell lines that President Bush approved back in 2001. I can only assume they were talking about these objections from a UCSF team.

I had to laugh. They can’t do the research because they don’t have a signed permission slip?

Yet these same people pooh-pooh those who object on the grounds that the embryos are human lives being destroyed. Because that’s just not an important question.

Consent: the sole criterion of the good?

My friend Mark likes to point out that our culture seems to have rejected every virtue except tolerance, and every standard of goodness or value except informed consent. He notes that neither of these are sufficient to base a human society on; in fact, they both ultimately lead to a society that collapses upon itself.

I think the problem is that we have, by and large, accepted unquestioningly the myth that we are first and foremost individuals. A nation, a community, even a family, is presumed to be something that we enter into by choice. We have a “social contract,” and all our relationships suddenly have the nature of a contract. They are negotiated, agreed to, and disputes are adjudicated based on the terms of the contract as understood by the parties.

No wonder we have so many lawsuits. No wonder politics has become the common religion practiced by Americans. No wonder the only solutions we can come up with to any problems are legal ones.

No wonder we pay more attention to a medical form than to a human life.

Why human nature is important

On the other hand, all the ancient and medieval thinkers knew that the human person is a social animal. “No man is an island,” as John Donne put it. We cannot be born without other people. We cannot survive without a family. We cannot accomplish any tasks without relying on others to provide what we cannot provide for ourselves.

And we cannot be fully human without other people to converse with, to laugh with, to play with, to work with. We actually are least human when we are isolated as individuals.

When we forget this, when we base our entire sense of goodness on my own individual consent – as if I were utterly independent of the rest of the world – then we lose sight of what is truly good for the human person: love, friendship, collaboration, joy and peace. All these are gifts; they cannot be legislated and are not subject to a contract. We have no right to them. The only consent required is the consent to receive them from those who love us.

Distinct, though not divorced

Aristotle says that the point of his book on ethics is to lay the groundwork for politics. He, like most of the Greeks from what I can tell, had a very State-centered view of the world.

But I think there are a couple important points here.

First, personal ethics really does have public implications. How I act in private cannot be separated from how I act in public and how the rest of society acts.

Second, Aristotle’s insight isn’t quite so anti-individual as it seems; after all, he sees that the human person is a social creature, that no man is an island, that it is not good to be alone. So, looking for the good life, he necessarily has to look at the life of the community.

Government and society

The poster I’m using to illustrate this post comes from a Conservative Party campaign in Great Britain. It’s a kind of retraction of a saying of Margaret Thatcher, the Conservative Prime Minister in the 1980′s. She once said, “There is no such thing as society.”

This poster turns that statement on its head by pointing out a distinction that we tend to blur in the 21st century – at least, in the English-speaking world. I can’t count the number of times when, in conversation, I’ve mentioned that “society” or “the whole community” has responsibility for some aspect of life – health care, to take a current example.

My interlocutors often would jump in with either, “No! The government should stay out of health care!” or “Yes! That’s exactly why we need a single-payer program!”

But government is not the same thing as the community.

Instead, it seems to me that people assume government will take responsibility for the problems and duties of the community. I’m not convinced that’s the case.

Neither right nor left

Here’s the thing: the so-called political right has a point in saying that a big government or “nanny state” tends to encourage irresponsible behavior by citizens by absolving them of personal responsibility for themselves and for one another.

And the so-called political left has a point in saying that government is the only entity which really comprehends the entire populace, and so can serve those who fall through the gaps in other social structures.

But while both of these “sides” see a real problem, neither seems to know where the solution lies. The right tends to want government to serve the “private sector”, meaning business; and the left tends to want the private sector to become a branch of government. But neither focus on the truly personal.

Personal virtue

It seems to me that any system, whether in government or business or anything else, is doomed to failure if it bases itself on a fantasy rather than on a reality. And one fantasy is that a system, in and of itself, will make the world better – no matter what quality of people are in the system.

But the fact is, human nature tends to find loopholes and gaps and ways to “work” any and every system it encounters. The answer is not a new system. The answer is to encourage each and every person to strive for excellence, for goodness, for virtue. The answer is to focus on the person.

Pure concentrated goodness?

Siobhan asked me if I was ever going to write about anything besides prudence. My short answer is, yes-and-no.

The long answer is that, the way I see it, writing about any one of the virtues really entails writing about them all. Every virtue implies every other, ultimately. The names are simply a matter of focus.

… from a certain point of view…

As far as I know, this approach to virtue is something I made up on my own, so I welcome anybody to correct or refine what I’m saying here.

It seems to me that the virtues are not exactly separate things from each other, but distinct aspects of a virtuous action.

So, any given action – for example, eating a bowl of ice cream (one of my favorite actions!) – can be seen from the perspective of prudence, or justice, or fortitude, or temperance. For that matter, you can look at it from the point of view of faith, or hope, or love.

My thinking is still a bit muddy, but I find the cardinal virtue / theological virtue distinction to be valuable here, showing two major lenses to use in looking at actions.

Cardinal virtues

So, in deciding about eating a bowl of ice cream, one can ask whether it is prudent. That is, is eating ice cream really a good thing for me in my current situation?

One can also ask, is it temperate? That is, are my desires within me in harmony with the truth and facts I’ve prudently discovered? Or, is it courageous? That is, must I overcome obstacles in order to achieve the good that I have prudently discovered?

Finally, one acts. And one asks, is this action just? That is, am I pursuing good in accordance with reality, opposing my false desires and overcoming obstacles?

So, prudence discovers the good; fortitude and temperance clear the way to pursuing that good, one by overcoming external obstacles and the other by opposing internal disorders; and justice acts to pursue the good. All the virtues collaborate in the process of taking action, and any given action is virtuous to the extent that it conforms to all the cardinal virtues.

Theological virtues

I see the theological virtues as a kind of parallel. Faith discovers the good – not merely relying on my own reason, but trusting in the testimony of others. Hope clears the path to the good by putting false desires and external obstacles in proper perspective. And love acts for the good, even by laying down one’s life for one’s beloved.

So the theological virtues build upon the cardinal virtues and express them, not merely from my own individual and human perspective, but from a higher perspective, even a divine perspective.

What about the ice cream?

I understand that the greatest question here may be, “Yeah, but did you eat the ice cream?”

How could you be in any doubt? Ice cream is a form of pure concentrated goodness.

Of course I ate the ice cream!

Justice is not blind

Tomorrow – today, already, in some time zones – is Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday, celebrated as a holiday in these United States. This coming week is also a big deal for the pro-life movement, with the national March for Life in D.C. on Friday the 22nd, preceded closer to my home by the Washington State March for Life on Tuesday the 19th.

Both these movements, civil rights and right to life, are movements of social justice that base themselves in the idea of human rights. They argue that basic human rights are (or have been) unjustly denied to human beings.

They both are political movements, asking for changes in the letter or in the application of law. They ask that the law conform to the ideal of justice. But they both also acknowledge that justice truly comes to life in the concrete actions of individual people.

Human law and Natural Law

Dr. Martin Luther King repeated a saying of St. Augustine’s on the relationship of legal justice to moral justice: “An unjust law is no law at all.” That is to say, there is a law higher than any laws that human legislators can pronounce.

This higher law usually goes by the name, Natural Law. Natural Law claims to be a universal moral and ethical code, rooted in human nature and common to every culture and creed in the world. Natural Law is the ideal of justice, the standard by which all human laws are measured.

The theory is that, if anyone from any culture gave a question sufficient thought, he or she would arrive at the same basic conclusion about what is right or wrong, what is good and what is evil. Freedom and equality are good, theft and murder are evil, for example. Therefore, these are principles that can be applied across national borders and religious differences.

This is the basis of fundamental human rights. Today, people largely agree that human rights belong to all people, regardless of racial, ethnic, or national background. In the U.S., at least, many people disagree about whether human rights belong to all people, regardless of their stage of biological development.

Legal justice, social justice, personal justice

So, the laws our government makes and enforces should not merely follow the will of the people; the law should reflect the justice of Natural Law, of fundamental and universal human rights.

But justice requires more than human legislation. It is not enough to permit people of different skin color to use the same drinking fountain or to attend the same schools. People are more than just citizens; they are members of a society, a culture, and justice requires that they be treated as fully human in that social context.

Regarding race and ethnicity, this remains a live question in the U.S. Should there be such a thing as “black identity” (or “Irish” or “Latino” or anything else)? If so, how do people of diverse “identities” treat each other with fairness and respect?

Regarding abortion and euthanasia, this question is almost forbidden. The social climate thrusts the entire matter onto the individual, the mother of an “unwanted” child – as if there are no social implications to children being “unwanted.”

Finally, justice appears properly as a virtue in the actions of individuals. Today, in this situation, facing this person or these people, how does one act with fairness and respect? How does one give to each person what is due to him or her?

Justice begins by recognizing the dignity of every human person, based simply on the fact of his or her humanity. And this becomes obvious in our actions in times of crisis: look at the response to the earthquake in Haiti. No one questions whether the Haitians are human enough, or are worthy. It is enough to know that they are human, and that their suffering is beneath human dignity.

Justice is acting to restore that dignity, wherever it is threatened.