Certain Views Regarding "Enlightened" Paganism

It seems characteristic of many books addressing philosophical, or "enlightened", paganism in the Roman Empire to describe it as a mere precursor to Christianity, or to criticize its proponents as  being inconsistent by continuing attachment to ancient pagan beliefs and rituals.  By philosophical or enlightened paganism I refer to Stoicism, Cynicism, Platonism or Neo-Platonism, and other philosophical schools prevalent in the empire prior to the advent of Christianity.  Christian authors, even recent Christian authors, generally profess to admire this kind of pagan thought but are at pains to criticize it in some fashion because it is undeniably heathen--i.e. pre-Christian.

It seems to me that those who claim this kind of paganism merely "prepared the way" as it were for Christianity encounter problems because it can be maintained just as easily that Christianity is in many ways simply derivative of this kind of paganism, just as it is in many ways derivative of less enlightened paganism, having borrowed so much of its dogma and ritual from various religions circulating in the empire before Christianity became, in effect, the imperial state religion.

Those who assert that the enlightened pagans betrayed themselves by their willingness to follow the ancient rituals, or were somehow inexplicably compelled to do so despite the wisdom of their other beliefs, encounter similar problems.  These assertions typically contrast the enlightened beliefs with the supposedly silly anthropomorphic simplicity of ancient beliefs and rituals.  However, it would seem that the figure of Christ is inherently anthropomorphic, if not the ultimate in anthropomorphic theism, as at once human and divine.  And, the enlightened pagans tended to justify their adherence to ancient rituals as signs of devotion to aspects of the divine which were merely represented by the various gods and goddesses, but which formed a single unity (not unlike, it would seem, the doctrine of the Trinity and devotion to the saints).

It's difficult not to see this tendency on the part of certain authors as defensive and disingenuous.  It doesn't make much sense to deny the colossal debt Christianity owes to the pagan beliefs prevalent in the empire (not to mention its Jewish origins) at the time of its spectacular growth, although this would seem to be necessary given its claim to exclusiveness and its nature as a revealed religion.

One also finds the somewhat inconsistent view that philosophical paganism failed because it was insufficiently anthropomorphic; that it was left for Christianity, as the true religion, to combine the need for a human religion with the philosophical abstractions said to be needed for truly enlightened thought.

I think it's likely, though, especially as we reconcile ourselves to our disappointingly small place in the universe, that we'll find ourselves more and more attracted to religions which emphasize the non-human characteristics of the divine.  The "enlightened" pagans may have had the right idea after all.

On Censors and Censorship

In the Roman Republic, a censor was a public official who had duties concerning the census, and was also a kind of guardian of public morality.  One of the more famous censors we know of was M. Porcius Cato, commonly known as Cato the Elder for purposes of distinguishing him from M. Porcius Cato the Younger, who as one might guess was a descendant of the elder Cato.  Neither the elder nor the younger Cato were particularly jolly fellows, from what we know of them.  Cato the Elder famously "censored" Scipio Africanus, the great Roman general who defeated Hannibal at Zama, for being depraved and wearing "Greek dress"--in short, for being insufficiently Roman.  Since Hannibal had rampaged through Italy and defeated the legions in every prior engagement, in Scipio's place I would have been inclined to remark that if he was not a good Roman, being "un-Roman" proved to be very useful to Rome in at least one case.

Of course, our word "censorship" derives from the title of the dour busybodies who as censors made life miserable for the ancient Romans in so many ways.  It seems to me appropriate, therefore, that the word "censorship" carries with it a hint of self-righteousness employed in the regulation of free expression.

Currently, there is much ado about National Public Radio's firing of commentator Juan Williams for making some remarks to the effect that when he boards a plane and sees passengers wearing what is believed to be traditional Muslim garb, he becomes nervous.  I have not yet heard of anyone claiming his First Amendment rights were violated, despite the fact that NPR receives some government funding, and am grateful for this; which is not to say it hasn't been claimed by someone, or will not be claimed, as the claim is probably inevitable.  But, there are calls for the cessation of government funding being made by those people one would expect would make such calls, and NPR is being defended by those people one would expect would defend it in these circumstances.  Such is the predictable nature of our politics here in the United States, Rome's rather unlikely successor in today's world.

This latest circus is another indication of how very difficult and sometimes perilous it has become for any person, but especially public figures of any kind, to engage in discourse.  One of the reasons for this is obviously the fact that anything of a vaguely controversial nature which is recorded will be transmitted almost instantly all over the world, and have all sorts of ramifications.  Another reason, I'm afraid, is the fact that everyone has become a censor or potential censor.  Self-righteousness--the most despicable human characteristic, I think--has descended upon us in an almost pentecostal manner, and having received its fiery directive we are spreading out to note and condemn those with whom we disagree at every opportunity.

It is likely, whether we like it or not, that the nervousness referred to by Williams is shared by many others.  That's human nature, I think.  It shouldn't make anyone proud, and it's unquestionably regrettable, and even unjust.  But fear makes us irrational, and that irrationality is not limited to Williams.  His error, if error it was, was to admit he had such feelings on a popular TV show.

Self-righteousness played its part in his termination--there appears to have been nothing in the nature of a "there but for the grace of God" hesitance on  the part of the higher powers at NPR.  It seems that NPR was looking to part ways with him, and that may have played a part as well.  Self-righteousness is now playing a part in the condemnation of NPR, as are other things, most notably the desire to reap a political benefit. 

One wonders if there were different ways in which this incident could have been handled, and it's clear there were, and that it's likely that if there had been a little thought prior to action then we would not have to endure this latest irritating uproar.  But one also must wonder if we've reached a point where the honest airing of thoughts and feelings or reasonable resolution of disputes is even possible, now that words can be taken, in or out of context, and displayed for the world at large in an appeal for outrage to people all too disposed to outrage.

Some Thoughts Regarding "Natural Law"

I'm reading a book called Marcus Aurelius and the Later Stoics by F.W. Bussell, one of the many books which are freely available through, and which I freely download on, my nook, and a sentence of his to the effect that theology without anthropomorphism is Natural Law, "got me thinking" as we like to say.

As far as I'm concerned, the fact that so many of the religions we've dreamt up during our relatively short time on earth ascribe very human traits, and even sometimes forms, to a deity creates problems for their credibility.  Among these problems are those associated with the idea that a supreme being came to live among us, and those which assume that such a being finds peculiarly human conduct or misconduct of great and indeed paramount interest.  For example, for me at least, it's difficult to believe that God is very troubled if we have sex out of wedlock, and even more difficult to believe that he punishes those who do eternally.

"Natural Law" can mean different things, in ethics and in law.  But one of the things about stoicism I find interesting is that it considers human nature, and nature generally, in coming to certain conclusions regarding good conduct and the good life.  In coming to these conclusions, it doesn't necessarily rely on the existence of a transcendent and bafflingly human God functioning as law-giver, although it does maintain that there exists as a part of nature a kind of Divine Spirit or Reason in which we as humans share.  Bussell (and others I've read) seems to feel that the later stoics began to think of this Spirit, or Reason, or Logos as transcendent and personal, and I know that Epictetus, for example, would sometimes refer to it in a personal manner (i.e. as if it were something like a person); but I'm not so sure.

Be that as it may, I'm personally sympathetic to the view that we humans generally share certain characteristics which can be identified and described through the use of our intelligence, just as the rest of nature has characteristics which can be identified and described through the use of that capacity.  If that's the case, it would seem to be possible to use that information in making certain reasonable inferences regarding good conduct and the good life, based on what most of us find desirable (there will always be people who want or at least will profess to want to kill and torture other people, or who are insane, but I don't think their existence precludes us from making such inferences any more than "freaks of nature" or highly unlikely but still possible results prevents us from coming to scientific conclusions as to probable outcomes).

Such inferences could result in certain non-absolute rules, and to the extent that they are based on human nature and the place of humans within nature might be considered something like Natural Law.   Unlike Natural Laws, however, those rules need not be conditioned on a belief that that they exist in some fashion separate from us, or are imposed by some transcendent higher power.  They cannot be separate from humanity or from nature as they are derived from both--from the intelligent consideration of humans as they interact with each other and their environment.

So, perhaps Natural Law theory if broadly defined can have a naturalistic basis, one independent of the need for God as traditionally conceived.

On the Proposed Israeli Loyalty Oath

As lawyers know, the word "and" can be quite significant.  We tend to be sensitive to its use.  It's conjunctive.  So if, for example, a legal right or duty is conditioned on the existence of "X and Y", then normally both X and Y must exist in order for the legal right or duty to apply.  On the other hand, if it's conditioned on "X or Y" then the right or duty will apply if either X or Y exists.

When one pledges loyalty to a "Jewish and democratic state" then, one is in the legal sense pledging loyalty to one that is both Jewish and democratic, not one or the other.  This fact seems to create difficulties.

The proponents of the oath maintain that Israel has been a Jewish state since its foundation; it was, after all, created to be a homeland for Jewish people.  This is apparently noted in its Declaration of Independence (from what, I wonder?--I must check that out).  The fact that it may be a state associated with a particular religion would not in itself make it remarkable.  There are nations which contend they are Islamic, as we know.  As loyalty oaths are fairly common, it would be unsurprising if such nations required loyalty to an Islamic state.  Why should there be any outcry over the fact a Jewish state requires an oath of loyalty to itself as peculiarly Jewish?

Citizens of the U.S., used to the idea of the separation of church and state, may claim that a nation cannot be simultaneously Jewish (or Islamic, or Christian) and democratic--although some of the louder and more belligerent among them seem to claim it is itself a Christian nation.  But that separation is one dreamed up (fortunately, I think) by the shrewd lawyers, merchants and farmers we call the Founders; it isn't a universal characteristic of a democratic government or nation.

But Israel is in this case, and in others, extraordinary.  Some of its population isn't Jewish, and apparently don't wish to be.  It's unlikely they will be eager to pledge their loyalty to a Jewish state of any kind.  It is surrounded by nations which are not Jewish, and apparently don't wish to be, and indeed would rather there would not be a Jewish nation next door to them, or perhaps anywhere in the world.  So, requiring such an oath in these circumstances appears unwise, as a purely practical, political and military matter, because it is bound to create difficulties among Israel's population, its neighbors and, because of the importance of the region, to the world at large.

This kind of problem will arise whenever nations are considered as anything but secular entities.  When they are not merely nations or governments, but are instead nations, governments and religious, or ethnic, and exclusively so, difficulties result, due to intolerance and discrimination.

So we should be thankful to the Founders here in this great republic, and hope that their work won't be overturned by those politicians, pundits and preachers of our time who seek to do so.

Law, Politics, Persuasion and Pessimism

"The law" according to Aaron Burr, an able lawyer among other things, "is whatever is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained."  It's a rather cynical comment.  I'm not sure that is as much the case in the law today as it was in his time; the law has become so complicated that extensive knowledge of it, or particular areas of it, is likely more essential than it was in his relatively carefree time.  But his comment is applicable to many other things, and is particularly applicable to our politics and culture as to what is believed to be true or significant--although it's questionable whether it is necessary to plausibly maintain most anything anymore.

Recently, I argued a case before the Supreme Court of the state in which I practice.  Because this court in most cases is not required to accept appeals, this is quite rare.  It can be an interesting and daunting experience.  I've done it before, but in this case the argument was not held in the imposing courtroom at the state capitol, but in the local court of the county in which the cases to be argued arose, apparently as part of a project to "bring" the court to the people, giving them an opportunity to see how the state's highest court operates.  So, the courtroom was mobbed, and had the atmosphere of an event, even a kind of show, which was unusual given the nature of the case in which I appeared, which has legal significance but is not terribly exciting.

I think this is a fine idea, and don't think it impacted the quality of the arguments at all.  Bold assertions plausibly maintained may impress but tend to be less compelling in the higher courts, even when an unusually large audience is present.  But this admirable idea of exposing the less known aspects of the functioning of the law to those interested reminded me that we as a people are more than ever a kind of audience, who expect events or shows, and are persuaded by them, for good or ill.

When the highest court of a jurisdiction becomes involved in a case, and has the discretion to accept matters, public policy will generally be an issue.  In interpreting and applying a statute, however, a court should not impose its own view of what is appropriate, in most cases.  The policy behind a law is presumably the concern of the legislature which adopted the law; part of the obligation of the court is to determine legislative intent, and the language of the law is all important to this determination.

This is a sound rule, as legislators are elected representatives of the people empowered to adopt laws.  But in these times when the show is so important and apparently so persuasive, one has to wonder whether elected legislators have the interests of the people in mind.

It's election time in this great republic, and advertisements for the various candidates (they cannot reasonably be called anything else) deluge us.  These advertisements are (perhaps necessarily) simple-minded, bombastic and, of course negative--they don't even extol the virtues of the preferred candidate, being focused exclusively on the many defects of his/her opponent.  They boldly assert, and are intended to persuade, but no effort is made to plausibly persuade anyone. 

I find this approach insulting, and ignore the advertising as much as possible, but it is pervasive--it can't be escaped.  Surely, it must have some effect.  Presumably, commercials regarding beer and cars and various other products influence consumers, though I've never considered myself particularly influenced.  Why else would such huge amounts money be paid to create such things?

It is now commonly felt, I think, that our politicians are products like any other, and have been bought and sold so many times before they are elected that they cannot serve the interests of any but their current owners.  If that isn't too cynical a view, it's hard not to consider that at least a limited kind of judicial activism is to be encouraged--unless, of course, judges are made as susceptible as politicians to the influence of others.  This would seem to require that they be protected from such influence.

It's the old problem, of course.  How independent can the judiciary be without becoming a kind of anti-democratic elite?  Can we hope that the politicians, pundits and preachers who endlessly hector us will be unsuccessful in their efforts to persuade us with mere assertions?  When will we demand that they provide plausible explanations for their claims and actions?