Social justice

Did Paul VI change the Church’s teaching on socialism?

In an earlier post, we unpacked Paul VI’s statement in Octogesima adveniens, which apparently permitted Christians to engage in what the Pope called “socialist currents.” He was suspicious of them, to be sure, but he acknowledged that Christians could, provided, of course, that they retained a clear-eyed understanding of both the ideological aspects of socialism and the fundamental inseparability of those ideological aspects from the political expressions of socialism and its larger goals, discern the extent to which they could commit themselves along socialist lines. In other words, Paul VI seemed to acknowledge that it was possible for Christians to reach a via media with socialism.

After some reflection on this statement, it seems to us that Paul’s statement in Octogesima adveniens may represent a significant departure from the prior social teaching of the Church. In fact, the great Pius XI in Quadragesimo anno explicitly excluded cooperation between Christians and socialists. (We’ll explore what, precisely, he said infra.) And Papa Ratti’s bright-line exclusion of cooperation was taken up in the manualist tradition. So, Paul’s statement, at the very least, does not explicitly reiterate that bright-line exclusion. And, as is so often the case with teaching after Pius XII, it will be seen infra that Paul’s statement admits of two interpretations. On one hand, his statement is a narrow opening for cooperation, which represents a departure from Pius’s teaching. On the other hand, his statement is merely an oblique reference to that teaching. However, as we have observed, failure to explicitly reaffirm doctrine is functionally equivalent to changing doctrine. It is, as Benedict XVI might say, a question of which hermeneutic one prefers: continuity or rupture.

(We will add some section headings for convenience, perhaps a professional weakness.)

1. Paul VI Apparently Opened the Door to Cooperation in Socialism in Octogesima adveniens.

But let’s look at the question in detail. Recall first what Paul VI said in Octogesima adveniens:

Some Christians are today attracted by socialist currents and their various developments. They try to recognize therein a certain number of aspirations which they carry within themselves in the name of their faith. They feel that they are part of that historical current and wish to play a part within it. Now this historical current takes on, under the same name, different forms according to different continents and cultures, even if it drew its inspiration, and still does in many cases, from ideologies incompatible with faith. Careful judgment is called for. Too often Christians attracted by socialism tend to idealize it in terms which, apart from anything else, are very general: a will for justice, solidarity and equality. They refuse to recognize the limitations of the historical socialist movements, which remain conditioned by the ideologies from which they originated. Distinctions must be made to guide concrete choices between the various levels of expression of socialism: a generous aspiration and a seeking for a more just society, historical movements with a political organization and aim, and an ideology which claims to give a complete and self-sufficient picture of man. Nevertheless, these distinctions must not lead one to consider such levels as completely separate and independent. The concrete link which, according to circumstances, exists between them must be clearly marked out. This insight will enable Christians to see the degree of commitment possible along these lines, while safeguarding the values, especially those of liberty, responsibility and openness to the spiritual, which guarantee the integral development of man.

We have previously discussed this passage, and we will not belabor the point unnecessarily. Paul says that Christians—conscious both of socialism’s ideological tenets and of the inseparability of those ideological tenets from political expression and broader goals—can discern “the degree of commitment” along socialist lines.

It bears noting, and is most relevant for our discussion here, that nothing in Paul’s teaching in Octogesima adveniens explicitly excludes cooperation between Christians and socialism. Paul advises caution, but, one gets the real sense (we do, at any rate) that if all the conditions are met, then there is a possibility for cooperation.

2. Henri Grenier’s Thomistic Philosophy Is a Good Example of the Church’s Prior Teaching, Which Was Based on Pius XI’s Quadragesimo anno.

Perhaps the easiest way into Pius’s teaching is to look, first, at Canadian Thomist Henri Grenier’s Cursus Philosophiae—translated into English as Thomistic Philosophy. Grenier’s manual was a hugely significant treatise in seminaries and colleges in its day. However, time just gets away from us, as Charles Portis says, and it is unlikely that Grenier is much read in the seminaries these days, except perhaps by a few devoted Thomists. Grenier was a major opponent of personalism, which took off in earnest after 1945 for obvious reasons, and also an important influence on Charles De Koninck and the so-called Laval School of Thomism. (A topic best left to the experts.) At any rate, the third volume of his Philosophy addresses various social questions in detail, including possible cooperation between Catholics and socialists. Grenier also demolishes the possibility of economic liberalism a few pages later, to give you an idea of what you’re dealing with there.

Now, let us consider what Grenier said,

Some Catholics have unwarrantably wondered about the possibility of a «middle course» between mitigated Socialism and the principles of Christian truth, so that Socialism could be met, as it were, upon common ground.

For, first, they have felt, class warfare, on condition that it refrains from enmities and mutual hatred, can gradually become an honest discussion of differences, which is a principle of social restoration and peace.

Secondly, the war declared upon the ownership of private property, if attenuated, can be directed not towards the abolition of the possession of productive goods, i.e., the means of production, but towards the restoration of order in society, namely, when, according to the principles of sound philosophy, certain forms of property are reserved to the State, the private ownership of which would be at variance with the common good.

Pope Pius XI settled very definitely any doubts in this matter by solemnly declaring that Socialism, even in its more moderate form, is irreconcilable with the teachings of Christianity.

(3 Thomistic Philosophy § 1150, 3º, trans. O’Hanley) (footnote omitted.) In other words, some Catholics have explored the possibility that, if socialism abandons class warfare in favor of “honest discussion of differences,” and if socialism permits private property except where the common good requires property to be under public control, then there may be room for cooperation between socialism and Christ’s Church. The via media! No such luck, Grenier says. Socialism, even moderate socialism, is “irreconcilable” with Christianity. We see that, at least as Grenier understands the situation, there is no possibility for the sort of via media that Paul marks out.

3. Pius XI in Quadragesimo anno Held that Socialism Is Incompatible With Christianity, Even if Socialism Moderates Its Policies of Class Struggle and War on Private Property.

In support of this proposition, Grenier cites Pius XI’s Quadragesimo anno. Indeed, Quadragesimo anno is, it seems, itself sufficient to answer the Catholics who have “unwarrantably wondered” about a possible via media between socialism and the Church’s social teaching. We come, therefore, to the heart of the matter. The brief portion of Quadragesimo anno that Grenier quotes in a footnote comes near the end of a considerably longer passage, which ought to be considered in full, because Pius does something very clever in it. Pius begins,

One might say that, terrified by its own principles and by the conclusions drawn therefrom by Communism, Socialism inclines toward and in a certain measure approaches the truths which Christian tradition has always held sacred; for it cannot be denied that its demands at times come very near those that Christian reformers of society justly insist upon.

For if the class struggle abstains from enmities and mutual hatred, it gradually changes into an honest discussion of differences founded on a desire for justice, and if this is not that blessed social peace which we all seek, it can and ought to be the point of departure from which to move forward to the mutual cooperation of the Industries and Professions. So also the war declared on private ownership, more and more abated, is being so restricted that now, finally, not the possession itself of the means of production is attacked but rather a kind of sovereignty over society which ownership has, contrary to all right, seized and usurped. For such sovereignty belongs in reality not to owners but to the public authority. If the foregoing happens, it can come even to the point that imperceptibly these ideas of the more moderate socialism will no longer differ from the desires and demands of those who are striving to remold human society on the basis of Christian principles. For certain kinds of property, it is rightly contended, ought to be reserved to the State since they carry with them a dominating power so great that cannot without danger to the general welfare be entrusted to private individuals.

Such just demands and desire have nothing in them now which is inconsistent with Christian truth, and much less are they special to Socialism. Those who work solely toward such ends have, therefore, no reason to become socialists.

That’s a neat trick, there at the end, isn’t it? If socialism, Pius says, has moderated class struggle into mere dialogue between classes and renounced public ownership of the means of production in favor of the recognition that the public authority has the right to govern capital, then there’s no reason to become a socialist, since those doctrines aren’t uniquely socialist. And this is, of course, a point that is difficult to answer: if socialism is about, say, mere economic justice and solidarity within and among classes, then there is very little to distinguish socialism from other political tendencies. Almost no mainstream political tendency wants economic injustice and conflict among classes for its own sake.

Paul seems to contradict this point pretty squarely in Octogesima adveniens, doesn’t he? Paul says,

Distinctions must be made to guide concrete choices between the various levels of expression of socialism: a generous aspiration and a seeking for a more just society, historical movements with a political organization and aim, and an ideology which claims to give a complete and self-sufficient picture of man. Nevertheless, these distinctions must not lead one to consider such levels as completely separate and independent. The concrete link which, according to circumstances, exists between them must be clearly marked out.

Under Pius’s teaching, if socialism is only “a generous aspiration and a seeking for a more just society,” then there is no reason to cooperate with socialism, because neither of those things are uniquely socialist. And he is probably right, as we said. Paul, on the other hand, seems to leave the door open.

But it probably doesn’t matter much, since Pius doubts that socialism really has moderated class struggle or renounced public ownership of the means of production:

Yet let no one think that all the socialist groups or factions that are not communist have, without exception, recovered their senses to this extent either in fact or in name. For the most part they do not reject the class struggle or the abolition of ownership, but only in some degree modify them. Now if these false principles are modified and to some extent erased from the program, the question arises, or rather is raised without warrant by some, whether the principles of Christian truth cannot perhaps be also modified to some degree and be tempered so as to meet Socialism half-way and, as it were, by a middle course, come to agreement with it. There are some allured by the foolish hope that socialists in this way will be drawn to us. A vain hope! Those who want to be apostles among socialists ought to profess Christian truth whole and entire, openly and sincerely, and not connive at error in any way. If they truly wish to be heralds of the Gospel, let them above all strive to show to socialists that socialist claims, so far as they are just, are far more strongly supported by the principles of Christian faith and much more effectively promoted through the power of Christian charity.

Since socialism is likely to retain some of its uniquely socialist character, can’t the Church moderate its doctrines a little to find that via media? Of course not! Pius offers a variation on his neat trick from before. Here, he says that the way for Christians to interact with socialists is to show them—without departing from the doctrine of Christ’s Church—that there is no just socialist claim that is not supported and advanced better by the Church. In other words, it is the Christian’s duty to show the socialist that his just aims are really the Church’s aims and that the Church is better able to actually achieve those aims. The Christian is the perfect socialist, or, to put it in a less polemic manner, the Christian has perfectly what the socialist has imperfectly. Cooperation with socialism is therefore nothing more or less than bringing the Gospel to socialists.

Pius then circles back to the idea that socialism can moderate its distinctive aspects—class struggle and the public ownership of the means of production—sufficiently to permit cooperation between the Christian and the socialist.

But what if Socialism has really been so tempered and modified as to the class struggle and private ownership that there is in it no longer anything to be censured on these points? Has it thereby renounced its contradictory nature to the Christian religion? This is the question that holds many minds in suspense. And numerous are the Catholics who, although they clearly understand that Christian principles can never be abandoned or diminished seem to turn their eyes to the Holy See and earnestly beseech Us to decide whether this form of Socialism has so far recovered from false doctrines that it can be accepted without the sacrifice of any Christian principle and in a certain sense be baptized. That We, in keeping with Our fatherly solicitude, may answer their petitions, We make this pronouncement: Whether considered as a doctrine, or an historical fact, or a movement, Socialism, if it remains truly Socialism, even after it has yielded to truth and justice on the points which we have mentioned, cannot be reconciled with the teachings of the Catholic Church because its concept of society itself is utterly foreign to Christian truth.

(Emphasis supplied.) Even if socialism moderates itself to the point of class dialogue and public authority over certain private property, socialism is still diseased. This seems to be contradicted even more strongly by Paul, doesn’t it? Paul seems to hold that

But why does Pius say this?

[A]ccording to Christian teaching, man, endowed with a social nature, is placed on this earth so that by leading a life in society and under an authority ordained of God he may fully cultivate and develop all his faculties unto the praise and glory of his Creator; and that by faithfully fulfilling the duties of his craft or other calling he may obtain for himself temporal and at the same time eternal happiness. Socialism, on the other hand, wholly ignoring and indifferent to this sublime end of both man and society, affirms that human association has been instituted for the sake of material advantage alone.

Because of the fact that goods are produced more efficiently by a suitable division of labor than by the scattered efforts of individuals, socialists infer that economic activity, only the material ends of which enter into their thinking, ought of necessity to be carried on socially. Because of this necessity, they hold that men are obliged, with respect to the producing of goods, to surrender and subject themselves entirely to society. Indeed, possession of the greatest possible supply of things that serve the advantages of this life is considered of such great importance that the higher goods of man, liberty not excepted, must take a secondary place and even be sacrificed to the demands of the most efficient production of goods. This damage to human dignity, undergone in the “socialized” process of production, will be easily offset, they say, by the abundance of socially produced goods which will pour out in profusion to individuals to be used freely at their pleasure for comforts and cultural development. Society, therefore, as Socialism conceives it, can on the one hand neither exist nor be thought of without an obviously excessive use of force; on the other hand, it fosters a liberty no less false, since there is no place in it for true social authority, which rests not on temporal and material advantages but descends from God alone, the Creator and last end of all things.

(Footnotes omitted and emphasis supplied.) In other words, the fault with socialism is its concept of society as ordered toward the efficient production of goods, and, in Pius’s view, that fault is inseparable from socialism. This fault has two consequences: it requires excessive force and creates false liberty.

4. Henri Grenier Summarizes and Clarifies Pius’s Argument Against Socialism’s Concept of Society.

Now, this ought to be carefully considered. Socialism has one body of doctrine, Pius seems to tell us, and two key aspects of that doctrine are class struggle and the public ownership of the means of production. But there is more to socialism than those two points—including the idea that society is ordered toward production—and even if socialism moderates the two big points, the remaining doctrine is poisoned by socialism’s concept of society. There is, then, no way in Pius’s mind for the Christian to cooperate with the socialist, even if the socialist moderates the leading aspects of socialism.

The importance for Pius of the socialist concept of society cannot be understated. And it may help to clarify the argument a little to see what Pius is getting at. Grenier does just that. The thesis is that socialism is untenable. (We know Grenier’ll prove it, but don’t let that spoil the suspense.) Grenier unpacks the major and minor premises of Pius’s argument:

1° Man must live in society, in order to attain temporal and eternal happiness. But, according to Socialism, man’s only purpose in living in society is the acquisition of an abundance of temporal goods. Therefore.

Major.— The end of civil society is the temporal happiness of this life as directed to eternal happiness.

Minor.— For Socialism, in declaring even an attenuated kind of war on private ownership, is concerned only with the acquisition of an abundance of material goods, and thus shows no solicitude either for man’s higher goods, or for his liberty. For it teaches that man must be completely subject to civil society, in order that he acquire an abundance of material goods.

(3 Thomistic Philosophy § 1151, 1º.) He proceeds to the conclusion, and explains the two antecedents to the conclusion, of Pius’s argument:

2° Society, as conceived by the Socialist, is, on the one hand, impossible and inconceivable without the use of compulsion of the most excessive kind; and, on the other hand, it fosters a false liberty. Therefore Socialism is untenable.

Antecedent — a) Society is impossible and inconceivable without the use of compulsion of the most excessive kind.— According to Socialism, the possession of the greatest possible amount of temporal goods is esteemed so highly that man’s higher goods, not excepting liberty, must be subordinated and even sacrificed to the exigencies of efficient production.

b) Society fosters a false liberty.— Society, according to the Socialistic conception of it, is based solely on temporal and material advantages. From this it follows that neither society nor its members are subject to God, the wellspring of all authority. In other words, Socialism, in which no place is found for true social authority, destroys all authority.

We may add that Socialism cannot, in virtue of its principles, abolish class welfare.

(3 Thomistic Philosophy § 1151, 2º.) We note briefly here that there is an interesting point raised by this argument: does Pius mean that the mere subordination of man’s higher goods to the possession of temporal goods itself constitutes the “obviously excessive use of force”? That is, if man’s higher good is subordinated to the possession of temporal goods without physical coercion, is that still the “obviously excessive use of force”? If so, this is a remarkably interesting and potentially fruitful line of argument. But that’s not exactly what we’re here for today.

To summarize, in Pius’s view, socialism is contradictory to Christian doctrine because of its views on class struggle and private property, but even if socialism moderates those views, it is still contrary to Christian doctrine because socialism rejects the proper end of civil society in favor of a purely materialistic concept of civil society. Worse than that, socialism, in order to implement its materialistic concept of society, both uses excessive force and fosters a false concept of liberty. In other words, the poison in socialism is fundamental. Therefore, Christians cannot cooperate with socialism.

5. Returning to Octogesima adveniens: a Hermeneutic of Continuity or a Hermeneutic of Rupture?

As noted above, this bright-line approach is not to be found in Octogesima adveniens. Or is it? Remember, again, what Paul said:

Too often Christians attracted by socialism tend to idealize it in terms which, apart from anything else, are very general: a will for justice, solidarity and equality. They refuse to recognize the limitations of the historical socialist movements, which remain conditioned by the ideologies from which they originated. Distinctions must be made to guide concrete choices between the various levels of expression of socialism: a generous aspiration and a seeking for a more just society, historical movements with a political organization and aim, and an ideology which claims to give a complete and self-sufficient picture of man. Nevertheless, these distinctions must not lead one to consider such levels as completely separate and independent. The concrete link which, according to circumstances, exists between them must be clearly marked out. This insight will enable Christians to see the degree of commitment possible along these lines, while safeguarding the values, especially those of liberty, responsibility and openness to the spiritual, which guarantee the integral development of man.

(Emphasis supplied.) It seems to us that one could argue that Paul kept Quadragesimo anno in mind when he wrote Octogesima adveniens, and when he talks about “an ideology which claims to give a complete and self-sufficient picture of man,” he could well be talking about socialism’s broader notions of society—notions which Pius held to be incompatible with Christianity. Furthermore, one could well argue that Paul pointed out that there is a link between, say, “a generous aspiration and a seeking for a more just society,” and those same broader, incompatible notions of society. Furthermore, one could argue that Paul’s injunction to safeguard integral values—including liberty—points toward Pius’s teaching that socialism simultaneously does violence to and promotes a false vision of liberty. (To say nothing of socialism’s materialistic outlook, which contradicts necessarily “openness to the spiritual.”) In other words, Paul’s admonitions to Christians fit into Pius’s teachings and result in Christians being unable to commit themselves along socialist lines. Paul reaffirms Pius.

But if that were the case, one wonders why Paul did not come out and reaffirm Pius’s bright-line noncooperation rule. One can just as easily read Paul as permitting some commitment or cooperation. Certainly such a reading finds support in the text and does not require lengthy analyses of Paul’s secret allusions to Quadragesimo anno. And one could quite reasonably say that Paul meant what he said, and what he said was that Christians could, keeping certain things in mind, come to a decision about the extent to which they could commit themselves along socialist lines. If he had meant that they could not so commit themselves, then he would have said so. And this reading is hard to answer, too. No means no, and maybe means maybe.

The question, then, is whether one prefers a hermeneutic of continuity or a hermeneutic of rupture. And that question seems to be answered largely by one’s broader political preferences. Obviously, Christians who seek a via media—or something more—will adopt the hermeneutic of rupture, arguing that Paul VI, perhaps considering certain changes in the state of socialism by 1971, softened the Church’s stance on cooperation or commitment. And Christians who reject socialism completely on political grounds will adopt a hermeneutic of continuity with Pius XI’s strict anti-socialist teaching.

Further thoughts on the socialist seduction

When we originally commented on Gabriel Sanchez’s piece regarding the “socialist seduction,” we focused on what we identified as two currents in the Church’s thinking about subsidiarity. We did not focus on the broader question. In following up a Twitter conversation on our issue, we noted that Paul VI, in his little-loved 1971 letter Octogesima adveniens, addressed the “socialist seduction” himself. It is worth noting that Paul never quite addressed socialism by name in Populorum progressio, and he made some ambiguous comments in that encyclical that seemed to point toward more aggressive regimes of redistribution that would be entirely consistent with a socialist or Marxist framework. Octogesima adveniens, coming only four years after Populorum progressio, can be seen, then, as an attempt to clarify some of the infelicities and ambiguities in the earlier document.

Addressing the question of socialism broadly (and Marxism specifically), Paul wrote,

Some Christians are today attracted by socialist currents and their various developments. They try to recognize therein a certain number of aspirations which they carry within themselves in the name of their faith. They feel that they are part of that historical current and wish to play a part within it. Now this historical current takes on, under the same name, different forms according to different continents and cultures, even if it drew its inspiration, and still does in many cases, from ideologies incompatible with faith. Careful judgment is called for. Too often Christians attracted by socialism tend to idealize it in terms which, apart from anything else, are very general: a will for justice, solidarity and equality. They refuse to recognize the limitations of the historical socialist movements, which remain conditioned by the ideologies from which they originated. Distinctions must be made to guide concrete choices between the various levels of expression of socialism: a generous aspiration and a seeking for a more just society, historical movements with a political organization and aim, and an ideology which claims to give a complete and self-sufficient picture of man. Nevertheless, these distinctions must not lead one to consider such levels as completely separate and independent. The concrete link which, according to circumstances, exists between them must be clearly marked out. This insight will enable Christians to see the degree of commitment possible along these lines, while safeguarding the values, especially those of liberty, responsibility and openness to the spiritual, which guarantee the integral development of man.

Other Christians even ask whether an historical development of Marxism might not authorize certain concrete rapprochements. They note in fact a certain splintering of Marxism, which until now showed itself to be a unitary ideology which explained in atheistic terms the whole of man and the world since it did not go outside their development process. Apart from the ideological confrontation officially separating the various champions of Marxism-Leninism in their individual interpretations of the thought of its founders, and apart from the open opposition between the political systems which make use of its name today, some people lay down distinctions between Marxism’s various levels of expression.

For some, Marxism remains essentially the active practice of class struggle. Experiencing the ever present and continually renewed force of the relationships of domination and exploitation among men, they reduce Marxism to no more than a struggle – at times with no other purpose – to be pursued and even stirred up in permanent fashion. For others, it is first and foremost the collective exercise of political and economic power under the direction of a single party, which would be the sole expression and guarantee of the welfare of all, and would deprive individuals and other groups of any possibility of initiative and choice. At a third level, Marxism’ whether in power or not, is viewed as a socialist ideology based on historical materialism and the denial of everything transcendent. At other times, finally, it presents itself in a more attenuated form, one also more attractive to the modern mind: as a scientific activity, as a rigorous method of examining social and political reality, and as the rational link, tested by history, between theoretical knowledge and the practice of revolutionary transformation. Although this type of analysis gives a privileged position to certain aspects of reality to the detriment of the rest, and interprets them in the light of its ideology, it nevertheless furnishes some people not only with a working tool but also a certitude preliminary to action: the claim to decipher in a scientific manner the mainsprings of the evolution of society.

While, through the concrete existing form of Marxism, one can distinguish these various aspects and the questions they pose for the reflection and activity of Christians, it would be illusory and dangerous to reach a point of forgetting the intimate link which radically binds them together, to accept the elements of Marxist analysis without recognizing their relationships with ideology, and to enter into the practice of class struggle and its Marxist interpretations, while failing to note the kind of totalitarian and violent society to which this process leads.

(Emphasis supplied.) There is a lot to unpack here, to be sure. But the crucial insight, as far as we are concerned, is this:

Too often Christians attracted by socialism tend to idealize it in terms which, apart from anything else, are very general: a will for justice, solidarity and equality. They refuse to recognize the limitations of the historical socialist movements, which remain conditioned by the ideologies from which they originated.

In other words, Christians tend to think of socialism, the Pope tells us, in vague terms. However, the general will toward social justice associated with socialism is inseparable from socialism’s political and ideological aspects. Only when socialism is considered integrally, Pope Paul teaches us, can the Catholic determine whether and to what extent it is possible to follow socialist paths toward the broader goals of social justice. While the Pope does not come out and say so, one gets the sense that he is suspicious of what he calls socialist currents. He is even more acutely suspicious of the Marxist hermeneutic. Marxist analysis, Pope Paul argues, carries the bacillus of Marxism, and the bacillus of Marxism always results in grave, if not fatal, disease.

But—but!—Pope Paul does not exclude absolutely participation in socialist currents. The question is one of proper understanding of what Paul sees as essentially a sequential path: the broad social-justice aims of socialism lead to the political structures of socialism, which in turn lead to the ideological tenets of socialism. At a certain point, that becomes unacceptable in Paul’s view, given the broadly materialistic and totalitarian aspects of socialist ideology. But there is some distance between that point and sympathy, though for different reasons, with broader objectives of social justice. One imagines, therefore, that Paul sees the process of insight and engagement as (1) knowing the general course of development from social-justice goals to socialist ideology and (2) knowing when to stop and say “no farther.” And that is the tricky thing.

On two visions of subsidiarity

Gabriel Sanchez has an interesting comment at Opus Publicum, which begins,

Christian Democracy, an online publication to which I have contributed, appears to have fallen temptation to what I would call the “socialist seduction” prevalent in certain Christian—including Catholic—circles. Rightly dissatisfied with contemporary capitalism (which finds no support in the Church’s authentic social magisterium), socialist Catholics are in pursuit of a socio-economic order which, broadly speaking, is more just, equitable, and stable then the present ordo. Instead of looking to Catholic-grown theories like distributism or solidarism, these Catholics believe that socialism—or at least some form of socialism—can cure our present woes. The problem facing socialist Catholics is that numerous magisterial statements, including Pope Leo XIII’s Rerum Novarum and Pius XI’s Quadragesimo Anno, appear to condemn socialism outright.

(Emphasis supplied.) To this brief list we would add, of course, Pius XI’s Divini Redemptoris, Papa Ratti’s towering condemnation of communism. Apparently, a couple of authors in Christian Democracy have apparently proposed solutions that are essentially socialism with a Christian face. (He links to them.) Sanchez objects to these solutions, arguing “that they largely ignore the central role subsidiarity plays in Catholic social teaching.” Sanchez seems to argue—though he doesn’t put it quite like this—that to be completely consistent with the Church’s social teaching, an economic solution should involve subsidiarity. But whose subsidiarity?

To be clear, we think Sanchez is probably correct: if you’re going to be consistent with the social teaching of the Church, then you have to be consistent with the social teaching of the Church. And subsidiarity is part of the social teaching of the Church. Thus, one needs to take it into account or explain why it may be disregarded without creating a conflict with the Church’s doctrine. (Our primary criticism of the Actonista set, for example, is that they neither take into account the less liberal elements of the Church’s teachings nor explain why they don’t have to take them into account. It’s mostly hand-waving about the various competences of the Church, notwithstanding Ubi arcano Dei consilio.) We simply observe that there are, perhaps, two competing versions of subsidiarity, and it is not clear to us that one gets the same result in a given situation under either version. Thus, when one says that one has to take subsidiarity into account, the question becomes, as we noted above, whose subsidiarity?

On one hand, we have Pius XI’s version of subsidiarity, encapsulated in this bit from Quadragesimo anno:

When we speak of the reform of institutions, the State comes chiefly to mind, not as if universal well-being were to be expected from its activity, but because things have come to such a pass through the evil of what we have termed “individualism” that, following upon the overthrow and near extinction of that rich social life which was once highly developed through associations of various kinds, there remain virtually only individuals and the State. This is to the great harm of the State itself; for, with a structure of social governance lost, and with the taking over of all the burdens which the wrecked associations once bore. the State has been overwhelmed and crushed by almost infinite tasks and duties.

As history abundantly proves, it is true that on account of changed conditions many things which were done by small associations in former times cannot be done now save by large associations. Still, that most weighty principle, which cannot be set aside or changed, remains fixed and unshaken in social philosophy: Just as it is gravely wrong to take from individuals what they can accomplish by their own initiative and industry and give it to the community, so also it is an injustice and at the same time a grave evil and disturbance of right order to assign to a greater and higher association what lesser and subordinate organizations can do. For every social activity ought of its very nature to furnish help to the members of the body social, and never destroy and absorb them.

The supreme authority of the State ought, therefore, to let subordinate groups handle matters and concerns of lesser importance, which would otherwise dissipate its efforts greatly. Thereby the State will more freely, powerfully, and effectively do all those things that belong to it alone because it alone can do them: directing, watching, urging, restraining, as occasion requires and necessity demands. Therefore, those in power should be sure that the more perfectly a graduated order is kept among the various associations, in observance of the principle of “subsidiary function,” the stronger social authority and effectiveness will be the happier and more prosperous the condition of the State.

(Emphasis supplied.) In other words, the smallest competent entity ought to handle a situation. The threat of a strike at a factory in a town ought to be handled by the local authority. Unfair wages at several factories throughout a region ought to be handled by the regional authority. If regional authorities differ on responses to problems or broader intervention is needed, then the national authority can step in and act. And so on. (We’ll come back to this question of the smallest competent entity.) At any rate, it seems to us that Pius’s subsidiarity is concerned with the entity that ought to intervene in a given situation.

On the other hand, we have John Paul’s version, as expressed in Centesimus annus:

Another task of the State is that of overseeing and directing the exercise of human rights in the economic sector. However, primary responsibility in this area belongs not to the State but to individuals and to the various groups and associations which make up society. The State could not directly ensure the right to work for all its citizens unless it controlled every aspect of economic life and restricted the free initiative of individuals. This does not mean, however, that the State has no competence in this domain, as was claimed by those who argued against any rules in the economic sphere. Rather, the State has a duty to sustain business activities by creating conditions which will ensure job opportunities, by stimulating those activities where they are lacking or by supporting them in moments of crisis.

The State has the further right to intervene when particular monopolies create delays or obstacles to development. In addition to the tasks of harmonizing and guiding development, in exceptional circumstances the State can also exercise a substitute function, when social sectors or business systems are too weak or are just getting under way, and are not equal to the task at hand. Such supplementary interventions, which are justified by urgent reasons touching the common good, must be as brief as possible, so as to avoid removing permanently from society and business systems the functions which are properly theirs, and so as to avoid enlarging excessively the sphere of State intervention to the detriment of both economic and civil freedom.

In recent years the range of such intervention has vastly expanded, to the point of creating a new type of State, the so-called “Welfare State”. This has happened in some countries in order to respond better to many needs and demands, by remedying forms of poverty and deprivation unworthy of the human person. However, excesses and abuses, especially in recent years, have provoked very harsh criticisms of the Welfare State, dubbed the “Social Assistance State”. Malfunctions and defects in the Social Assistance State are the result of an inadequate understanding of the tasks proper to the State. Here again the principle of subsidiarity must be respected: a community of a higher order should not interfere in the internal life of a community of a lower order, depriving the latter of its functions, but rather should support it in case of need and help to coordinate its activity with the activities of the rest of society, always with a view to the common good.

By intervening directly and depriving society of its responsibility, the Social Assistance State leads to a loss of human energies and an inordinate increase of public agencies, which are dominated more by bureaucratic ways of thinking than by concern for serving their clients, and which are accompanied by an enormous increase in spending. In fact, it would appear that needs are best understood and satisfied by people who are closest to them and who act as neighbours to those in need. It should be added that certain kinds of demands often call for a response which is not simply material but which is capable of perceiving the deeper human need. One thinks of the condition of refugees, immigrants, the elderly, the sick, and all those in circumstances which call for assistance, such as drug abusers: all these people can be helped effectively only by those who offer them genuine fraternal support, in addition to the necessary care.

(Emphasis supplied and footnote omitted.) In other words, John Paul puts the individual and associations of individuals at the center of the picture and argues that they have the primary authority in economic oversight. With this basic shift, a remarkable change occurs. Subsidiarity becomes the principle of limited government involvement in economic matters. Individuals and associations of individuals are the smallest competent authorities, to use fundamentally Pian terms, and, therefore, individuals and associations of individuals ought to be the entities that address economic issues first. What’s more, the state should concentrate primarily on creating and preserving the conditions for private enterprise to thrive. If targeted intervention is necessary, then it should be brief and demanded by the common good. And the state should exercise social-welfare functions only if more local solutions fail or are unavailable. In other words, individuals have primary responsibility for the economy and for ensuring that everyone gets either a fair shake or some help. If that cannot work for whatever reason, then the state can get involved.

One could argue that John Paul’s position is reconcilable with Pius’s, given the apparently different focuses of the two. On one hand, one could say, Pius is focused on the state’s role in the relations between capital and labor; in other words, Pius is concerned with the state’s role as mediator in industrial disputes. On the other hand, John Paul is interested in the state as actor in the economy, both as intervenor in industries and as guarantor of a standard of living; John Paul is concerned with crony capitalism, nationalized industries, and handouts. That is, one may say, of course Pius’s and John Paul’s visions of subsidiarity are divergent—they’re talking about different things. And that may be the case; certainly we would be open to seeing that argument worked out in greater detail. However, we are interested in John Paul’s apparent pivot back to the individual, which we believe is the key difference between his subsidiarity and Pius’s. It is this pivot that we think sets up a fundamental difference between John Paul’s thinking and Pius’s.

For one thing, John Paul’s notion of the individual as primary guarantor of human rights in the economic sphere appears to contradict Leo in Rerum novarum:

We have said that the State must not absorb the individual or the family; both should be allowed free and untrammelled action so far as is consistent with the common good and the interest of others. Rulers should, nevertheless, anxiously safeguard the community and all its members; the community, because the conservation thereof is so emphatically the business of the supreme power, that the safety of the commonwealth is not only the first law, but it is a government’s whole reason of existence; and the members, because both philosophy and the Gospel concur in laying down that the object of the government of the State should be, not the advantage of the ruler, but the benefit of those over whom he is placed. As the power to rule comes from God, and is, as it were, a participation in His, the highest of all sovereignties, it should be exercised as the power of God is exercised – with a fatherly solicitude which not only guides the whole, but reaches also individuals.

Whenever the general interest or any particular class suffers, or is threatened with harm, which can in no other way be met or prevented, the public authority must step in to deal with it. Now, it is to the interest of the community, as well as of the individual, that peace and good order should be maintained; that all things should be carried on in accordance with God’s laws and those of nature; that the discipline of family life should be observed and that religion should be obeyed; that a high standard of morality should prevail, both in public and private life; that justice should be held sacred and that no one should injure another with impunity; that the members of the commonwealth should grow up to man’s estate strong and robust, and capable, if need be, of guarding and defending their country. If by a strike of workers or concerted interruption of work there should be imminent danger of disturbance to the public peace; or if circumstances were such as that among the working class the ties of family life were relaxed; if religion were found to suffer through the workers not having time and opportunity afforded them to practice its duties; if in workshops and factories there were danger to morals through the mixing of the sexes or from other harmful occasions of evil; or if employers laid burdens upon their workmen which were unjust, or degraded them with conditions repugnant to their dignity as human beings; finally, if health were endangered by excessive labor, or by work unsuited to sex or age – in such cases, there can be no question but that, within certain limits, it would be right to invoke the aid and authority of the law. The limits must be determined by the nature of the occasion which calls for the law’s interference – the principle being that the law must not undertake more, nor proceed further, than is required for the remedy of the evil or the removal of the mischief.

Rights must be religiously respected wherever they exist, and it is the duty of the public authority to prevent and to punish injury, and to protect every one in the possession of his own. Still, when there is question of defending the rights of individuals, the poor and badly off have a claim to especial consideration. The richer class have many ways of shielding themselves, and stand less in need of help from the State; whereas the mass of the poor have no resources of their own to fall back upon, and must chiefly depend upon the assistance of the State. And it is for this reason that wage-earners, since they mostly belong in the mass of the needy, should be specially cared for and protected by the government.

Consider also Pius’s summary of Leo’s position in Quadragesimo anno:

Just freedom of action must, of course, be left both to individual citizens and to families, yet only on condition that the common good be preserved and wrong to any individual be abolished. The function of the rulers of the State, moreover, is to watch over the community and its parts; but in protecting private individuals in their rights, chief consideration ought to be given to the weak and the poor.

Pius also notes that:

It follows from what We have termed the individual and at the same time social character of ownership, that men must consider in this matter not only their own advantage but also the common good. To define these duties in detail when necessity requires and the natural law has not done so, is the function of those in charge of the State. Therefore, public authority, under the guiding light always of the natural and divine law, can determine more accurately upon consideration of the true requirements of the common good, what is permitted and what is not permitted to owners in the use of their property. Moreover, Leo XIII wisely taught “that God has left the limits of private possessions to be fixed by the industry of men and institutions of peoples.” That history proves ownership, like other elements of social life, to be not absolutely unchanging, We once declared as follows: “What divers forms has property had, from that primitive form among rude and savage peoples, which may be observed in some places even in our time, to the form of possession in the patriarchal age; and so further to the various forms under tyranny (We are using the word tyranny in its classical sense); and then through the feudal and monarchial forms down to the various types which are to be found in more recent times.” That the State is not permitted to discharge its duty arbitrarily is, however, clear.

(Emphasis supplied and footnotes omitted.) In other words, the state may intervene both to regulate certain industrial relations and to regulate the uses of private property in accordance with the common good. This is a much stronger vision of the state than anything John Paul articulates. One could play George Weigel and offer all manner of explanations as to why John Paul’s vision is different (and you could guess what they are), but we will refrain from doing so.

As we say, John Paul’s shift away from the state toward the individual as primary guarantor of human rights in the economic sphere appears to be a break with Leo and Pius. Thus, we are not sure that the pivot John Paul makes, which produces his radically different vision of subsidiarity, is wholly consistent with the prior social teaching of the Church. (We will not discuss Mater et Magistra or Populorum progressio at this point, though we think there may be some particular applicability of Populorum progressio to one of Sanchez’s other points.)

Certainly, if we are wrong, we would be happy to hear it.

The upshot of all of this is that we think it matters, for the purposes both of Sanchez’s discussion and for any attempt to consider economic justice in the context of the Church’s social teaching, to be clear whose subsidiarity we mean. It is not at all clear to us that Pius’s definition of subsidiarity (or Leo’s concept of state action, for that matter) excludes certain top-down, nationwide economic actions—what we might call a centrally planned economy—in all cases. When discussing nationwide economic issues, such as widespread inequality, the smallest competent unit is surely the national government. Certainly, such actions must serve the common good, and it is an open question whether top-down state action always—or even often—serves the common good. On the other hand, John Paul’s concept probably does exclude a centrally planned economy and other top-down, nationwide economic actions except in the direst need. It’s not a trivial difference.

A few observations on Christ the King

Gabriel Sanchez has, at Opus Publicum, a very good piece, explaining the differences between the Feast of Christ the King as Pius XI originally intended it and as it exists today. In short, the collect was rewritten substantially, the hymns were hacked apart, and the selections from Quas primas at Matins were replaced with a reading from Origen of Alexandria on the Adveniat regnum tuum from the Pater Noster. The rewrite goes beyond that, in fact: the readings for the first nocturn of matins in the 1960 Breviary are taken from the first chapter of Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, verses 3–23. This has been replaced in the Liturgia Horarum with a composite selection from Revelation. And, of course, the feast was moved from the last Sunday of October to the last Sunday in Tempus Per Annum (i.e., the end of the Church’s year). The upshot of all these changes is to emphasize strongly the eschatological aspect of Christ’s kingship. In other words, the Feast of Christ the King serves to remind us today that at the end of time, Christ will reign as king. Just what Pius XI intended when he gave us Quas primas, no?

No. In Quas primas, Pius answered the suggestion that Christ’s kingdom was purely spiritual (and eschatological):

It would be a grave error, on the other hand, to say that Christ has no authority whatever in civil affairs, since, by virtue of the absolute empire over all creatures committed to him by the Father, all things are in his power. Nevertheless, during his life on earth he refrained from the exercise of such authority, and although he himself disdained to possess or to care for earthly goods, he did not, nor does he today, interfere with those who possess them. Non eripit mortalia qui regna dat caelestia.

(Emphasis added.) In other words, Christ’s kingship extends to the civil realm, even to this moment in this place. And the sooner we recognize that, the happier we will be:

When once men recognize, both in private and in public life, that Christ is King, society will at last receive the great blessings of real liberty, well-ordered discipline, peace and harmony. Our Lord’s regal office invests the human authority of princes and rulers with a religious significance; it ennobles the citizen’s duty of obedience. It is for this reason that St. Paul, while bidding wives revere Christ in their husbands, and slaves respect Christ in their masters, warns them to give obedience to them not as men, but as the vicegerents of Christ; for it is not meet that men redeemed by Christ should serve their fellow-men. “You are bought with a price; be not made the bond-slaves of men.” If princes and magistrates duly elected are filled with the persuasion that they rule, not by their own right, but by the mandate and in the place of the Divine King, they will exercise their authority piously and wisely, and they will make laws and administer them, having in view the common good and also the human dignity of their subjects. The result will be a stable peace and tranquillity, for there will be no longer any cause of discontent. Men will see in their king or in their rulers men like themselves, perhaps unworthy or open to criticism, but they will not on that account refuse obedience if they see reflected in them the authority of Christ God and Man. Peace and harmony, too, will result; for with the spread and the universal extent of the kingdom of Christ men will become more and more conscious of the link that binds them together, and thus many conflicts will be either prevented entirely or at least their bitterness will be diminished.

(Emphasis supplied and footnote omitted.) This is, of course, hugely interesting and hugely significant. Pius argues that if we accept Christ as our king here and now, the entire political order changes fundamentally. Rulers rule in Christ’s name, and subjects obey not flawed, partisan men, but Christ the King himself. This is what they might call in another context a “game-changer.” Given the exhausted, exhausting political scene in the United States (and many other countries, frankly) today, can anyone say that the blessings that flow from the proper ordering of the state would be unwelcome? Can anyone say that they prefer partisan hacks pursuing narrow, political objectives, while disgruntled subjects protest almost constantly? Of course not.

But it goes beyond that. Pius XI makes it clear that proclaiming Christ the King will be good medicine against what he calls anti-clericalism—a definite problem in the 1920s and 1930s—and what today could be called the soft, liberal indifferentism so popular in the educated West these days:

If We ordain that the whole Catholic world shall revere Christ as King, We shall minister to the need of the present day, and at the same time provide an excellent remedy for the plague which now infects society. We refer to the plague of anti-clericalism, its errors and impious activities. This evil spirit, as you are well aware, Venerable Brethren, has not come into being in one day; it has long lurked beneath the surface. The empire of Christ over all nations was rejected. The right which the Church has from Christ himself, to teach mankind, to make laws, to govern peoples in all that pertains to their eternal salvation, that right was denied. Then gradually the religion of Christ came to be likened to false religions and to be placed ignominiously on the same level with them. It was then put under the power of the state and tolerated more or less at the whim of princes and rulers. Some men went even further, and wished to set up in the place of God’s religion a natural religion consisting in some instinctive affection of the heart. There were even some nations who thought they could dispense with God, and that their religion should consist in impiety and the neglect of God. The rebellion of individuals and states against the authority of Christ has produced deplorable consequences. We lamented these in the Encyclical Ubi arcano; we lament them today: the seeds of discord sown far and wide; those bitter enmities and rivalries between nations, which still hinder so much the cause of peace; that insatiable greed which is so often hidden under a pretense of public spirit and patriotism, and gives rise to so many private quarrels; a blind and immoderate selfishness, making men seek nothing but their own comfort and advantage, and measure everything by these; no peace in the home, because men have forgotten or neglect their duty; the unity and stability of the family undermined; society in a word, shaken to its foundations and on the way to ruin. We firmly hope, however, that the feast of the Kingship of Christ, which in future will be yearly observed, may hasten the return of society to our loving Savior. It would be the duty of Catholics to do all they can to bring about this happy result. Many of these, however, have neither the station in society nor the authority which should belong to those who bear the torch of truth. This state of things may perhaps be attributed to a certain slowness and timidity in good people, who are reluctant to engage in conflict or oppose but a weak resistance; thus the enemies of the Church become bolder in their attacks. But if the faithful were generally to understand that it behooves them ever to fight courageously under the banner of Christ their King, then, fired with apostolic zeal, they would strive to win over to their Lord those hearts that are bitter and estranged from him, and would valiantly defend his rights.

(Emphasis supplied.) Good medicine, indeed.

“Il diritto della famiglia ad uno spazio vitale”

We have mentioned before that Pius XII’s 1941 radio address, La solennità della Pentecoste, is the missing link in the chain of the Church’s social teaching. (For now. We suspect that Benedict’s great Caritas in veritate, falling between John Paul’s Centesimus annus, so favored by those who contend, loudly if not convincingly, that John Paul was an American-style capitalist, and Francis’s Laudato si’, is going to be a missing link, too. Only time will tell.) Notwithstanding its incipit, La solennità is actually a speech marking the fiftieth anniversary of Rerum novarum. One point that the great Pius made was this:

Il nostro pianeta con tanti estesi oceani e mari e laghi, con monti e piani coperti di neve e di ghiacci eterni, con grandi deserti e terre inospite e sterili, non è pur scarso di regioni e luoghi vitali abbandonati al capriccio vegetativo della natura e ben confacentesi alla coltura della mano dell’uomo, ai suoi bisogni e alle sue operazioni civili; e più di una volta è inevitabile che alcune famiglie, di qua o di là emigrando, si cerchino altrove una nuova patria. Allora, secondo l’insegnamento della Rerum novarum, va rispettato il diritto della famiglia ad uno spazio vitale. Dove questo accadrà, l’emigrazione raggiungerà il suo scopo naturale, che spesso convalida l’esperienza, vogliamo dire la distribuzione più favorevole degli uomini sulla superficie terrestre, acconcia a colonie di agricoltori; superficie che Dio creò e preparò per uso di tutti. Se le due parti, quella che concede di lasciare il luogo natio e quella che ammette i nuovi venuti, rimarranno lealmente sollecite di eliminare quanto potrebbe essere d’impedimento al nascere e allo svolgersi di una verace fiducia tra il paese di emigrazione e il paese d’immigrazione, tutti i partecipanti a tale tramutamento di luoghi e di persone ne avranno vantaggio: le famiglie riceveranno un terreno che sarà per loro terra patria nel vero senso della parola; le terre di densi abitanti resteranno alleggerite e i loro popoli si creeranno nuovi amici in territori stranieri; e gli Stati che accolgono gli emigrati guadagneranno cittadini operosi. Così le nazioni che danno e gli Stati che ricevono, in pari gara, contribuiranno all’incremento del benessere umano e al progresso dell’umana cultura.

(Hyperlink omitted and emphasis supplied.)

Given recent events, we wonder whether it is time to expand on Pius’s concept of the right of the family to living space.

And he carries the reminders

A very thoughtful acquaintance of ours asked, elsewhere, what the Church has to say about violent sports—think mixed martial arts (MMA) or professional football (NFL, not FIFA).

This is a very good question, which has been on our mind lately. At sports-gossip site Deadspin, Barry Petchesky has a piece, “Wes Welker Is Back and It Feels Terrible,” regarding wide receiver Wes Welker’s return to play for the St. Louis Rams. Petchesky writes,

By all accounts—his own, his teams’, and a top NFL-affiliated concussion specialist’s—Wes Welker is healthy and ready to play. St. Louis badly needs a receiver. Still, when the Rams announced they signed Welker to bolster their etiolated passing attack, my first reaction was disappointment. It’s a strange feeling, to hope that Wes Welker—a talented WR and by all accounts a decent guy—never plays football again.

It’s the concussions. At least six official ones in his career, maybe as many as 10.(That doesn’t count the ones he may not even know about.) He suffered three in nine months with the Broncos, leading one former teammate to publicly declare he wanted Welker to retire. The thing about concussions is that the more you’ve had, the more likely you are to receive more. Welker’s brain is especially fragile and vulnerable. If teams avoided signing the still-useful receiver this offseason solely because of his concussion history—and some very specifically did—it wasn’t necessarily just the potential bad PR in a sport that claims to take brain trauma very seriously. It was legitimate concern for Welker’s well-being.

(Emphasis supplied and hyperlinks omitted.) But Welker is not the only flashpoint for the concussion debate: the NFL has been grappling with the question—and fans have been grappling with the morality—for some time.

Add to this the recent coverage of UFC champion Ronda Rousey’s devastating loss to Holly Holm. Rousey, long touted as an unstoppable fighter, known for thirty-second takedowns of challengers, was knocked out cold by a thudding kick to the head by Holm. But only after Holm had slugged Rousey in the face long enough and hard enough to split her lip and leave her bloodied. (We did not watch the fight, but some observers said that Rousey looked punch drunk. We do not doubt it.) While perhaps not as serious as Welker’s years of concussion after concussion after concussion, which have been discussed repeatedly, the fact remains that Rousey was punched repeatedly in the face, pretty hard as such things go, and kicked in the head hard enough to knock her out. Perhaps we are oversensitive—and we admit that we are not that kind of doctor—but that pummeling cannot be good for the brain.

Therefore, we think that our acquaintance’s question is not only a good question in itself but also a good important question for our time. The problem is that the Church does not appear to have pronounced officially—much less definitively—on the question professional football or MMA fighting or any of a whole host of physically punishing sports. (To our knowledge. If you, dear reader, are aware of something, please feel free to shoot us an e-mail or tweet at @semiduplex; we will gladly post any documents you identify.) But the Church has pronounced several times on dueling, and it seems to us that one can analogize profitably from dueling, especially nonlethal academic dueling, to these extreme sports. And from those pronouncements, some general conclusions may be drawn and applied to the question of these sports. The answer will probably not surprise you, though.

We begin with Leo XIII’s 1891 encyclical to the bishops of Germany and Austria-Hungary, Pastoralis officii. It begins,

Mindful of your pastoral duty and moved by your love of neighbor, you wrote to me last year concerning the frequent practice among your people of a private, individual contest called dueling. You indicate, not without grief, that even Catholics customarily engage in this type of combat. At the same time your request that We, too, attempt to dissuade men from this manner of error. It is indeed a deadly error and not restricted to your country, but has spread so far that practically no people can be found free from the contagion of the evil. Hence, We praise your zeal. It is clearly known what Christian philosophy, certainly in agreement with natural reason, prescribes in this matter; nevertheless, because the vicious custom of dueling is being encouraged with greatest forgetfulness of Christian precepts, it will be expedient to briefly review these rules.

(Emphasis supplied.) Thus, the answers to the question of dueling were already evident in Christian doctrine. Leo simply summarizes them in response to the bishops’ request for guidance. Leo goes to say, and this is the interesting part:

Clearly, divine law, both that which is known by the light of reason and that which is revealed in Sacred Scripture, strictly forbids anyone, outside of public cause, to kill or wound a man unless compelled to do so in self defense. Those, moreover, who provoke a private combat or accept one when challenged, deliberately and unnecessarily intend to take a life or at least wound an adversary. Furthermore, divine law prohibits anyone from risking his life rashly, exposing himself to grave and evident danger when not constrained by duty or generous charity. In the very nature of the duel, there is plainly blind temerity and contempt for life. There can be, therefore, no obscurity or doubt in anyone’s mind that those who engage in battle privately and singly take upon themselves a double guilt, that of another’s destruction and the deliberate risk of their own lives. Finally, there is hardly any pestilence more deadly to the discipline of civil society and perversive to the just order of the state than that license be given to citizens to defend their own rights privately and singly and avenge their honor which they believe has been violated.

(Emphasis supplied.) There are two principles here that ought to be unpacked before moving on to some other sources.

One, the divine law—and the natural law, which is simply our participation in the divine law—forbids killing or wounding a man except in self defense. The Fifth Commandment tells us as much. Remember, too, what Aquinas taught us: a man, including his body, belongs to the community; therefore, injuring a man injures the community (ST IIa IIae q.65 a.1 co. & ad 2). The community’s sanction is needed to injure a man (id.) This goes for blows, too (ST IIa IIae q.66 a.1 co.).

Aquinas’s teaching is not squarely on point here, since Aquinas was talking about injury as chastisement or retaliation. However, the principle seems to hold even in the sporting context: a man is part of the community, to injure a man injures the community. Now, the injuries in this case can be fairly remote. Certain brain injuries, as we understand it, can take years to manifest themselves; nevertheless, if it becomes certain that certain sports result in these injuries, then it seems to us, for the purposes of moral reasoning, the sports activities are the proximate cause of the injuries, even if temporally remote. Remember the lesson of the Second Way: real causality is not “this happened, then this happened, then this happened,” and so forth (ST Ia q.2 a.3 co.). Thus, Leo’s teaching, if taken back to its source, seems to apply equally to football as dueling.

Two, one cannot risk death or injury rashly. As the old Baltimore Catechism tells us, “[w]e are commanded by the fifth Commandment to live in peace and union with our neighbor, to respect his rights, to seek his spiritual and bodily welfare, and to take proper care of our own life and health.” (Emphasis supplied.) And as St. Alphonsus Liguori tells us in his Instructions on the Commandments and the Sacraments, God is the lord of our lives and we have no right to throw away our lives or to injure ourselves wantonly. Thus, on this point, too, Leo’s teaching is squarely within the broader current of Christian moral theology. And, unlike the previous point, this point meets squarely the question of violent sports. The Fifth Commandment requires us to take care of ourselves, more or less well, and to avoid unnecessary injury. It seems to us that an argument could be made—convincingly—that an athletic contest does not quite rise to the level of gravity necessary for one to justly risk injury or death.

There are also a couple of decrees of the old Sacred Congregation of the Council, before its transformation to the Congregation for Clergy, regarding German academic dueling: a decree of February 10, 1923, AAS 15 (1923) 154–56, and a decree of June 13, 1925, AAS 18 (1926) 132–38. The latter decree has been excerpted in the current edition of Denzinger, at DH 3672, and it makes it clear that the prohibition on dueling applies even when death is unlikely. (German academic dueling, as we understand it, involved padding and protective gear that prevented serious injury but permitted the flamboyant facial scars seen on a thousand B-movie actors after 1945 or so.) Thus, at least according to the Sacred Congregation of the Council, which undoubtedly would have been aware of Pastoralis officii, the prohibitions on dueling were not affected by measures taken to mitigate the injury. And this makes sense. The Fifth Commandment prohibits this sort of reckless, almost injury-seeking, behavior. We acknowledge that the violation may be only venially sinful. But given the serious neurological disorders that have been mentioned in the popular press, to say nothing of the regular, gruesome injuries that football players suffer, it seems unlikely that one could hold, as a rule, that the violation is a venial sin. It seems that the question of gravity is, as is often the case, one of subjective imputability.

All of this is a long way of saying that, reasoning from the example of dueling and some general comments on the Fifth Commandment, we think that mixed martial arts and professional football are probably sinful. (Once again, if you’re familiar with a more definite pronouncement, let us know and we’ll be happy to draw attention to it, with credit!) Whether, as in the days of dueling, excommunications need to be handed down to players, coaches, support staff, and spectators is another question. What to do, though? Plainly people like extreme sports. While we prefer baseball for a variety of reasons, we enjoy professional football. We root for a team. We have favorite players. We watch games. We talk about games with other people. We are, we admit, football fans. Yet, we have for some time been increasingly bothered by the idea that we are watching men bash their brains out. One can Google very sad stories of ex-players reduced to poverty—or worse—as a result of neurological damage they attribute to football.

Does this mean it’s time to stop formally cooperating in sin? In other words, by turning on the TV or going to a game, it seems to us that an argument could be made that we are formally cooperating in what the players are doing. Buying tickets, watching commercials, or otherwise supporting the broader objectives of the major corporations behind these sports looks an awful lot like formal cooperation, though we would be happy to be corrected by a moral theologian. Is it time to stop? If not now, what would it take? A decree of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith? A papal encyclical?

You’ll never watch your life slide out of view

David Mills, writing at Aleteia, has “A Marxist Lesson for Breeding Catholics.” His argument opens (and boils down to):

Only the affluent will find being open to life easy. For us, another child means an adjustment downward, but he doesn’t tip the family into poverty, or into deeper poverty. He may mean giving up a vacation if the family’s wealthy, or the Thursday family dinner out if the family’s middle class. Her arrival won’t mean giving up food, or rent or the parochial school that can make all the difference to his older siblings’ future.

Most of us who write about these things can afford to be romantic about them. Those in the Catholic chattering classes who compose warm glowing stories about the beauty of the Catholic teaching—as I have here, for example—tend to forget that we write from privilege. We forget what Marxism 101 would teach us, that we see the world from a specific place in society and favor its interests, and without great effort will be blind to the perspectives and interests of others, especially the poor.

There is in much Catholic writing on married sexuality a reflection of bourgeois good feeling; it treats the Catholic teaching as a pure blessing, with formulaic nods to its difficulty, when for others, not so privileged as we are, it can be a burden and a threat. Catholics who write and speak on sexuality tend to be perky.

(Emphasis supplied and hyperlink removed.) He goes on in this vein for a little while, coming to this conclusion:

It can’t be acceptable, from the Catholic point of view, that the marital act is so strictly bound by economic status that husbands and wives can enjoy the divine gift of sexual union only if they can afford the result. The Catholic teaching is not for the middle and upper classes alone.

We the comfortable, who speak so romantically of being open to life—because for us, with our privileges, it is a romance—could find ways to make it a romance, and not a terror, for others too.

(Emphasis supplied.)

The comments, perhaps predictably, have a roughly bimodal distribution. For our part, we think, on one hand, Mills’s comments are sort of trivial: yes, financial stability and reasonably good health may make the material and physical aspects of children easier; yes, the financially stable and reasonably healthy may have a particular set of biases that informs how they approach Church teachings; and, yes, Catholic commentators on these issues can be, as an acquaintance noted elsewhere, a little glib—even, horribile dictu, a little perky—about these issues. On the other hand, as another acquaintance noted, Mills seems to miss an obvious issue in this context: the extent to which the Church proposes solutions to the problems he identifies. We think that the Church’s social teaching—especially the Church’s economic teaching—provides important solutions to and conceptual frameworks for the problems Mills identifies.

Consider first this passage from Quadragesimo anno,

In the first place, the worker must be paid a wage sufficient to support him and his family. That the rest of the family should also contribute to the common support, according to the capacity of each, is certainly right, as can be observed especially in the families of farmers, but also in the families of many craftsmen and small shopkeepers. But to abuse the years of childhood and the limited strength of women is grossly wrong. Mothers, concentrating on household duties, should work primarily in the home or in its immediate vicinity. It is an intolerable abuse, and to be abolished at all cost, for mothers on account of the father’s low wage to be forced to engage in gainful occupations outside the home to the neglect of their proper cares and duties, especially the training of children. Every effort must therefore be made that fathers of families receive a wage large enough to meet ordinary family needs adequately. But if this cannot always be done under existing circumstances, social justice demands that changes be introduced as soon as possible whereby such a wage will be assured to every adult workingman. It will not be out of place here to render merited praise to all, who with a wise and useful purpose, have tried and tested various ways of adjusting the pay for work to family burdens in such a way that, as these increase, the former may be raised and indeed, if the contingency arises, there may be enough to meet extraordinary needs.

(Emphasis supplied and footnote omitted.) One can, if one is so inclined, also look to Rerum novarum itself for further guidance on the role of a just wage in supporting a family. But wherever one looks, the point is largely the same: workers are entitled to a just wage, suitable to permit those workers to support their families. And it seems to us that in this principle is the solution, at some level, to Mills’s basic problem regarding wealth and openness to life. Put another way, Mills says it cannot be acceptable to the Church that economic circumstances restrict couples’ openness to procreation according to God’s plan. And it isn’t acceptable. The Church says that workers are owed a just wage, and a just wage ought to be sufficient to support a family, if perhaps a little frugally. If economic circumstances are such that one cannot support a family, then it seems to us that one not being paid a just wage.

To expand upon this issue briefly: the question of just wages (or living wages or what-have-you) is politically a sensitive question in the United States today. However, it is, we think, safe to say that most jurisdictions have not adopted a living wage, and to the extent that a living wage is a just wage, those jurisdictions have not adopted a just wage. However, we acknowledge that following Quadragesimo anno, it is an open question whether a living wage is always a just wage, especially if the condition of the business (employer) is not taken into consideration in arriving at a living wage. However, in many cases, a living wage may approximate fairly reasonably a just wage. In this regard, therefore, these jurisdictions have failed to follow the teachings of the Church (or, more precisely, they have permitted employers to deviate from the demands of justice). And if this failure has caused the consequences Mills identifies—that is, economic circumstances chilling parents’ openness to procreation according to God’s plan—then it seems to us that those jurisdictions have a double responsibility to rectify their failure.

Mills also identifies a risk—to his way of thinking—for affluent Catholic parents:

The affluent for whom the Catholic teaching is not a great burden can fall to the temptations of their class, one of which is to think of their children as lifestyle accessories. The Catholic just has more of them than his secular and Protestant neighbors and can feel a little proud of it. It is easy to feel smug when you can say that you have X number of children when speaking to someone who has X minus 2 or X minus 3 children. You can feel that God rewarded your obedience and sacrifice by giving you more “toys” than your friends have.

(Emphasis added.) Now, consider this passage from Laudato si’:

A misguided anthropocentrism leads to a misguided lifestyle. In the Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Gaudium, I noted that the practical relativism typical of our age is “even more dangerous than doctrinal relativism”. When human beings place themselves at the centre, they give absolute priority to immediate convenience and all else becomes relative. Hence we should not be surprised to find, in conjunction with the omnipresent technocratic paradigm and the cult of unlimited human power, the rise of a relativism which sees everything as irrelevant unless it serves one’s own immediate interests. There is a logic in all this whereby different attitudes can feed on one another, leading to environmental degradation and social decay.

(Hyperlinks and footnote omitted and emphasis supplied.) It seems to us that the problem of children-as-reward—we have long called children in such unfortunate situations “trophy children”—is very much of a piece of the “misguided anthropocentrism” and “practical relativism” that puts the individual ahead of all others, including one’s children. In this case, the attitude Mills identifies has a certain spiritual dimension, especially since whether one has children and how many is a matter fundamentally left to God’s designs, but to the extent that one views one’s children as a reward or something like that, that attitude is essentially anthropocentric. While this insight is not as concrete as Pius’s discussion of just wages and their relationship to proper family life in Quadragesimo anno, it must be said that Francis provides a framework to think about the phenomenon of trophy children. Within this framework, it may well be possible to arrive at more concrete discussions of the problem.

In sum, the doctrinal issues that Mills identifies—particularly the economic pressures on procreation—are addressed, more or less directly, in the Church’s social teaching. Other issues can be understood better, if not solved, through other themes in the Church’s teaching. Now, we acknowledge that these doctrinal issues are not entirely Mills’s point, which is that healthy and wealthy Catholics tend not to understand that the Church’s teaching on procreation may be daunting to less healthy, less wealthy folks. However, it seems to us that the glibness, as one of our acquaintances put it, of some Catholics toward the question is a function of an incomplete understanding of the Church’s teaching on these issues.

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