Social Justice Isn't What You Think It Is. Paul Adams
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Название: Social Justice Isn't What You Think It Is

Автор: Paul Adams

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Экономика

Серия:

isbn: 9781594038280

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ in Germany. Mussolini had been ruling in Italy for nearly a decade. Stalin was about to stage the systematic starvation of millions of Ukrainians for clinging to their private property.

      The occasion for Pius’s encyclical was the fortieth anniversary of the first papal document on economic life. To begin, then, we must understand the eponymous “new things” in cultural and economic life at the turn of the nineteenth century, which prompted Leo XIII to write Rerum Novarum in 1891.

      I have already said enough to put Anglo-American civilization in its true light. It is the product (and this point of departure must always be kept in mind) of two perfectly distinct elements that elsewhere are often at odds. But in America, these two have been successfully blended, in a way, and marvelously combined. I mean the spirit of religion and the spirit of liberty. . . .

      Far from harming each other, these two tendencies, apparently so opposed, move in harmony and seem to offer mutual support.

      Religion sees in civil liberty a noble exercise of the faculties of man; in the political world, a field offered by the Creator to the efforts of intelligence. Free and powerful in its sphere, satisfied with the place reserved for it, religion knows that its dominion is that much better established because it rules only by its own strength and dominates hearts without other support.

      Liberty sees in religion the companion of its struggles and triumphs, the cradle of its early years, the divine source of its rights. Liberty considers religion as the safeguard of mores, mores as the guarantee of laws and the pledge of its own duration.3

      In any case, with Rerum Novarum Leo XIII departed from the traditional papal consideration of eternal things to consider what was happening in the social economy of Europe. He did so because, as people began living longer, subsistence farms could no longer sustain growing families, and people were being driven from the countryside. When a father died, the eldest son inherited the farm; younger sons had to leave and find work elsewhere. They emigrated to North and South America and to the newly industrializing cities of Europe. These vast migrations to urban environments had devastating effects on traditional family life and, therefore, on the Christian faith. So, in the name of the family, Leo XIII decided to address the social crisis of the late nineteenth century.

      Flash forward to 1931 and Quadragesimo Anno. In this encyclical Pius XI pointed out the many successful reforms undertaken in capitalist economies since 1891. Still aware of the gathering storm, he urged the nations to address more seriously the social crisis still wracking Europe. On nine different occasions in the encyclical, he used the relatively new term “social justice” to designate his ideal. In other words, a sense of crisis and change was built into the term, or at least surrounded it.

      The basic idea behind social justice has its roots in Aristotle and in medieval thought. The core of the ancient idea—then called “general justice”—may be adumbrated by the following: In times of war, occupation, and exile, it was hard for individuals to live sound moral lives. Order broke down; the rule of homo homini lupus (“man is a wolf to man”) prevailed. The ethics of individuals, wise men observed, are much affected by the ethos of the city in which they live. Thus, the readiness to make sacrifices, to maintain the health and strength of the city, seemed to be good and virtuous, and needed a special name, beyond the simple “justice” that consists of giving each individual his due. This concept of general justice was not sharply developed until the twentieth century, but its roots were ancient. It pointed to a form of justice whose object was not just other individuals, but the community.

      Nowadays, many people speak fervently of “social justice.” Progressives everywhere speak of it; the Communists loved the term. Everybody has heard of it, but very few have defined it. Even in 1931, important commentators on Pius XI displayed considerable confusion. Allow me to quote the Jesuit priest who probably drafted the encyclical, a brilliant thinker who died at the age of 104, Oswald von Nell-Breuning. Nell-Breuning wrote:

      The encyclical Quadragesimo Anno has finally and definitively established, theologically canonized, so to speak, social justice. Now, it is our duty to study it, according to this strict requirement of scientific theology. And to give it its proper place in the structure of the Christian doctrine of virtue on the one hand and the doctrine of rights and justice on the other.4

      Here we must take an abbreviated tour through the terrain of virtue. In the ancient city of Athens in the time of Aristotle, there were roughly 300,000 inhabitants, most of them slaves. The consequence was that every Greek male citizen who was free and able to vote (about 30,000 men) needed to learn the arts of war. He needed to know how to handle a sword, a spear, and a horse and chariot. Such skills were crucial to defending the city, which was constantly in danger of being overrun by enemies far and near. In addition, the young men needed to learn the arts of peace. They needed to know how to persuade, how to make laws, and how to run an estate. By the time he was eighteen, a young Greek male was expected to be well-versed in these and other habits and skills.

      That is what they meant by virtue: the kind of habit (or skill) you are not born with and do not always use, but which you develop and, when called upon, deploy. Virtue means those habits in particular that help a man to govern his passions and emotions so that he can act through reflection and choice. Virtues (and vices) are the habits that make you the distinctive kind of person you are. They define your character. A man who has prudence, for example, deliberates well and is reliable in action.

      Until the 1930s, most education in America, especially in Sunday school, at the YMCA, and through the McGuffey Readers in the schools, concentrated on training in character, on bringing up Americans of sound habits. Why? Because if people do not know how to manage their passions and emotions when they make decisions, they cannot govern themselves. “Confirm thy soul in self-control,” runs the old hymn; “Thy liberty in law.” Citizens who cannot practice self-control cannot succeed at republican self-government. Without self-controlled citizens, the American experiment must fail.