A Fresh Look at the Issues of Conversion and Baptism in Relation to Mission

Introduction - "The Messiness of Real Life":

"At the end of one cycle of time, they say, we experience kenosis, an emptying. Things lose meaning, they erode. ... The decay of time at the end of a cycle, leads to all manner of poisonous, degrading, defiling effects. A cleansing is required. ... Plerosis, the filling of time with new beginnings, is characterised by a time of superabundant power, of wild, fruitful excess. Alas, however, such shapely theories are never quite up to the task of accounting for the messiness of real life."

We have gathered together at a time when real life is indeed very messy. The rhetoric regarding conversion on the part of the Hindu fundamentalist organisations is becoming shriller, harsher, and crueller. Mr. Mohan Joshi, central secretary of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, demanding a ban on conversion and the withdrawal of special rights granted to religious minorities through a constitutional amendment, accused "fundamentalist religious organisations" of promoting disharmony and spreading separatism. He also termed conversion an "international conspiracy" which involved anti-national activity and asserted that this posed a major threat to the unity and sovereignty of the country. He claimed that conversion was facilitated through allurement, fraud and other illegal means, and involved the misuse of foreign funds from Western and Gulf countries.

While recognising that in such an analysis, which targets both Christians and Muslims, we do not have the points for any kind of debate but rather are confronted with a diatribe, nevertheless, I believe that in such a forum as the Gurukul Summer Institute, where an honest spirit of inquiry prevails, and where there is a commitment to a rigorous process of theological exploration, we need to address some of the issues raised.

Lest we claim that we can take refuge in the concept of secularism enshrined in the Constitution of India, we must also recognise that secularism, especially as practised in the Indian context, seems to be more of a constitutional provision rather than a living reality in the life and actions of many of our political leaders. In an official advertisement, the Bangalore city corporation (Bangalore Mahanagara Palike) proudly invites everybody to the Inauguration Ceremony of the "Longest elevated flyover in the country," on 23rd April, 1999, by the Chief Minister, Sri J. H. Patel, in the presence of a host of political dignitaries and chief guests, and in "the holy presence of His Holiness Sri Sri Sri Balagangadharanatha Swamiji, Adichunchanagiri Maha Samstanam Mutt." Perhaps one ought not to question the presence of religious leaders at official government functions. However, one cannot help but wonder at the privileging of the religious leaders of particular groups or sub-groups at such important functions, where the public are invited to participate at the inauguration of a project for the public, for which public money has been spent. How messy can real life get?

• • • • •

A Range of Responses without Sufficient Interaction?

Messiness can lead to revulsion. Messiness can also lead to a desire to take a fresh look at various issues and themes that characterise real life.

The Indian churches and theological institutions have read the signs of the times and have provided several fora for an exchange of views on these and related themes. Indeed, there has been a flurry of activity on the mission front judging by the number of recent consultations and publications that deal with various aspects of the mission question. Hence we are, on the one hand, confronted with an abundance of material, rich in analysis and content from a variety of perspectives that can offer to the Indian church sensitive viewpoints and creative directions for the understanding and practice of mission in India today, and, on the other, still confronted with the reality that, in so far as the mission question is concerned, an agreed upon standpoint, either in theological or practical terms continues to be elusive. One reason is that there is, by and large, a shocking neglect of, and even indifference toward, what is being said by different persons in various contexts, and a lack of interaction with what has been discussed before, even within the Indian context. Sustained efforts like that of Stanley Samartha to examine the question regarding the uniqueness of Jesus Christ in interaction with his interlocutors seem to be few and far between. Very often one gets the idea that various conversations are going on simultaneously, where certain snippets are overheard and taken to be representative. It is something like interpreting current culture while having the television on blaring out a rap number on M TV, while a devotional song by M. S. Subbalakshmi plays on the tape recorder, and while the radio is tuned to the 9 o'clock news!

Interaction with various voices:

What makes life messy? Is it simply a matter of too much being said by too many too often? Is it a matter of too much being done by too many well-meaning persons too quickly? Let us move on to consider a range of opinions expressed by various writers in the recent past. My task will be to problematize some of the topics and subjects in order to provide the space for a meaningful and sustained interchange.

- The question of what one understands by evangelism:

Writing on a broader understanding of evangelisation, Thomas Pulloppillil says:

... in our evangelisation activity, we do not limit ourselves to individuals. Evangelising society and culture is the ultimate aim of the missionary activity of the Church. Persons are intermediaries in the process of evangelising society and culture. Evangelising a culture means detecting, criticising and even denouncing the aspects of a culture that contradict the gospel message and devalue the dignity of the human being.

In like manner, a "definition" of evangelisation is offered by Venceslaus Lawrence who writes: "Evangelisation is giving human dignity to the socially marginalized and the so called refuse of the society."

The question that remains before us is that regarding the standpoint and situatedness of the one who is engaged in "evangelisation activity." How are the criteria developed which are to be used to detect, criticise and denounce? How can one understand the concept of justice in evaluating the dignity of the human being without falling into the trap of meaningless rhetoric and empty sloganeering? How does one actualise the sentiments endorsed in a statement that "Our mission is primarily to help people discover their God-given dignity as persons, to help free them from greed, lust, hatred and fear so that their innate love-ability, the gift of grace, can be actualized and thus societies of love, freedom and justice be built up." One cannot ignore the comment made at the annual meeting of the (almost exclusively Roman Catholic) Indian Theological Association in May 1996, which focused on the issue of the identity of the church in India, where the Final Statement said that "[t]he church in India must situate her identity in the context of 97% of the Indian population seeking their salvation outside the church without any reference to it." If we are called upon to situate our identity in such a soteriological reality, then what would this mean for the conception of evangelisation?

At the same time one must be careful in using non-New Testament terminology in talking about what evangelization is supposed to achieve. One such concept which is rather loosely brandished about is that regarding "establishing" God's kingdom. For example, Monica Melanchthon writes that the "Church is ... called to work with all of her energy, whether through evangelization, dialogue, prayer or praxis, to heal the wounds and divisions. The goal of such an endeavour is to establish the reign of God." Is it? Can the church "establish" God's reign? Is evangelization a process which leads to the "establishment" of something?

- The question regarding what conversion is supposed to achieve:

Another issue highlighted is that regarding conversion of a person and the formation of a new faith community. F. Hrangkhuma argues that

Conversion is not religious conversion in the sense of leaving the old socio-religious group in favour of one of the Christian denominational churches, basically initiated through baptism. Conversion is personal turning to God, but this is only one part of conversion, although the most important one. ...

The second goal of mission is to organize 'the converts' into a new community to be a worshipping group and to be a sign and witness to the Kingdom of God on earth. (...)

... The failure to indigenize has been largely due to the fact that the new churches have been organized by the missionaries who most often transplanted their own denominational structures, resulting in the new church's full dependency on the missionaries - almost in everything. To indigenize such churches is very difficult. So, right from the beginning, the new communities of the converts should belong to themselves completely.

This analysis seems to offer a rather romanticised picture of the aim and motives and post-conversion orientation of those missionaries responsible for the conversion in the first place. Similarly, the question of the inter- and intra-relationship between those who proclaimed and those who received the proclamation has not been analysed adequately. How does one deal with the question of faith-dependency? What about growth into maturity?

K. Rajendran writes that what one needs to do is to find some balance between mass and individual conversion and argues that "Society can be built with a mass turning to Christ. In one sense it is easier to disciple the mass rather than one individual, and the subsequent discipling of individuals could be significant in bringing the nation to Christ." One needs to question the motives of those who are the agents of "discipling." What are the characteristics of a discipled community and on what basis are these characteristics precipitated? Who gives whom the right to build such a society? On what basis is such a society built, of whom or what is it composed and who are the decision-makers in such a set-up?

K. P. Aleaz, in a fine article, which, among other things, examines the question of conversion and the law, makes a clear distinction between conversion and proselytising, with conversion analysed in terms of a personal and inward experience. While proselytising may contribute to fulfilling the dreams and desires of those motivated by raw statistics, must we not look at conversion from a different angle, opposed to notions of success and failure? It one seriously believes that it is "God who gives the growth" then how is it that we have been bogged down in proselytization centred analysis and stock-taking?

The late David Bosch, firmly attacking an otherworldly and ahistorical understanding of salvation, writes

Conversion is ... not the joining of a community in order to procure "eternal salvation"; it is rather, a change in alliance in which Christ is accepted as Lord and centre of one's life.

What is needed is a deeper and more sensitive analysis of why a "change in alliance" has taken place. What does such a change mean in terms of alliances previously held? What happens to alliances which occupied the centre? Should we use a circle imagery uncritically or is the imagery of an ellipse, with two foci, heuristically more helpful?

In an article analysing the issue of identity I wrote:

Any talk about identity has also to take into account the reality that the identity issue is not something which is value neutral. On the one hand there is the talk about a larger cross-cultural transnational identity. On the other there is the attempt to define a micro identity. One ought to note that the term "Christian" conceals more than it reveals. At the same time, one must recognise that the term "Indian" is a political construct. This understanding serves as an admonition against any form of an easy romanticised quest for the "original" which underlies the present form of existence.

- The question regarding the authority of the Bible:

At this point one must not overlook the intra-Christian debate and polemics. Attacking theocentrically oriented theologians like Stanley J. Samartha, Ashish Chrispal says that such thinking "moves away from the centrality of Christ and the triune God," and that Samartha "fails to recognise that the kind of pluralism he and other pluralists propose can make the religions a matter of indifference or can take a form of pious scepticism or people may renounce all religious choices, since they can live equally without them" and goes on to emphasise that

The dogmatic contextualisation that is true to both the Gospel and the context of people begins with the basic commitment to the 'Authority of the Bible', and accepts the supra-cultural factor of the Good News, i.e., transformation to Jesus Christ and the acceptance by faith of His Lordship over the cosmos and history. Nevertheless, it takes seriously the developments in critical Bible studies, the new insights gained from the social sciences of cultural anthropology and sociology, the impact of technology and political theory in rapid cultural change and the issues raised by cross-cultural communication on a global scale.

One can justifiably ask about the nature of a "basic commitment" to the authority of the Bible. Where does one really begin? How is this perspective to be reconciled with another eloquent voice which argues that

Biblical perspectives call for an inclusive perspective in relation to people of other faiths in all mission and evangelistic programmes. They also emphasize the need for urgent action in solidarity with the poor and oppressed people in our land. ... A fresh study and interpretation of the Bible would evoke larger horizons in our understanding of Mission and Evangelism.

Before moving on to a "fresh study and interpretation" should we not draw lessons from, and be prepared to be admonished by, various older methods of Biblical readings and follow-up mission methodologies, which had such a great impact on our land? If we are prepared to read the Bible in a pluralistic context are we prepared, in this effort to explore "the truth proposed by others," that "Christians have to recognize that they may have something to learn and that they may have to be corrected." Or, how does our commitment to the authority of the Bible, which recognises that "exclusive texts abound in the New Testament," square with the recognition that

What is central to the pluralistic reading of the New Testament is the gospel itself. It is an affirmation of the unconditional love of God towards all people, irrespective of who they are. Jesus and the message of the gospel were not against other religions, but against false religion as evidenced by insincerity and hypocrisy in relation to one's God and one's neighbour.

In another article I argued that

In attempting to listen to the speaking Bible today, it is obvious that one does not enter into, or engage in, this process from some kind of detached, value-free, ungrounded vantage point. If one is rooted in a particular context, committed to specific options, engaged in definite forms of action, and sensitive to historical injustice and contemporary dilemmas, and, at the same time, alive to the possibility that the Bible continues to speak, then one has to recognise one's situatedness in the long histories and traditions of Biblical interpretation.

In such a context, in coming to terms with our responsibility for Biblical interpretation we need to recognise that

Our hermeneutical arena was littered with exotic symbols and Western hermeneutical figures who had little time for our aesthetic assumptions. Some of them did not have the remotest understanding of any of the Asian cultures and, worse, betrayed their Eurocentrism in their exegetical judgements.

- The question regarding baptism and church membership:

With regard to baptism and the church, a pertinent question comes from Leelamma Athyal who asks: "When the church gets more people to join its membership through baptism, it rejoices. But should it? Is it because the Church's membership has increased? Or, because some people have become the disciples of Jesus." We need to ask whether after almost two thousand years of existence the church has recognised its orientation in terms of the Kingdom. If we pray, along with the writer of the Didache: "... let your church be gathered from the four corners of the earth into your kingdom," then how do we understand the sacrament of baptism in relation to the church and in relation to the kingdom? If the church is understood as "an agent to implement the mission of God," then what is the role of those who claim to be members of the church through baptism? If clergy and laity are called upon to remember that they "are in the church not for our own sake but for the mission to which God has called us," then does baptism bring with it the mission imperative? If mission is primarily understood in terms of the mission of God, then what is the link between this understanding of mission and the understanding of baptism as an entry into the institution called the church? What about the different ways in which baptism is understood within the Indian churches themselves, and the theological and practical consequences of such varied understandings? Joseph Mattam writes:

Baptism understood as the expression and celebration of one's conversion to Christ, of one's acceptance of Christ and his ways, of one's attitudinal changes to form a more inclusive community with the one goal of a fuller humanity is still meaningful. Baptism understood as the celebration of a new vision of society, of a new pattern of relationship with people, God and the cosmos is still desirable. When we welcome people to baptism, in the context of the poor and dalits in India, it is a call to a counter culture (not a separate Christian culture) which will empower the poor and will help them change their self-image and transform their world view into a new cooperative pattern. It is in view of this mission that baptism becomes meaningful, not in terms of the salvation of few individuals.

At this point some jogging of our ecumenical memory is called for. In November 1971, the Christian Institute for the Study of Religion and Society organized a Consultation on the theme Meaning of Conversion and Baptism in the Cultural Context of India. The papers and findings coming from this Consultation, along with correspondence that it generated, were then published. The writer of the Editorial commented:

If Baptism is to be retained in Indian Christianity, the churches that retain it should be constrained to find in it (or for it ) a meaning that is strongly supportive of Christian life and faith. Otherwise its liability to the Gospel in India can hardly justify its continued practice.

In November 1982, an ecumenical conference on the theme, Baptism and Conversion in the Context of Mission in India, was organized by the National Council of Churches in India. This conference followed a major study project initiated by the National Council of Churches in India to stimulate reflection on this theme in the current Indian context. In the Introduction, Godwin R. Singh wrote:

One of the major questions that loomed large in the discussions and deliberations of the Conference was that the Christian baptism has often been presented as a total repudiation of one's socio-cultural heritage and accepting a name, a style of life alien to one's own. This sort of idea and practice of baptism has kept many from accepting baptism. For many, baptism, particularly as presented in our churches, does not seem to be essential for the faith, response and commitment to Christ. In the light of the cultural and social demands that baptism has wrongly demanded from many, it may be important to ask the question whether the rite of baptism could be the necessary condition for the entry into the fellowship of the Church.

These two major theological contributions, one from almost thirty years ago, and the other from almost twenty years ago, indicate that concerned theologians have been wrestling with the issues of baptism conversion, and mission, without loosing track of what had happened in the past, while at the same time trying to discern what was happening in their immediate context. Have the issues raised been listened to, responded to, and taken up? At present do we have a cacophony of voices or is there an attempt at a meaningful and productive conversation?

One cannot overlook the pointed and provocative remark made by M. M. Thomas in one of his last published articles that "the question of giving to the unbaptised Christ-bhakts in other religious communities, a sense of full belonging to the spiritual fellowship of the church including participation in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper needs exploration." How do we respond to this concern, which attempts to stir up already troubled waters?

 

- The question regarding mission theories and the role of the West:

One wishes that writers like Geevarghese Mar Osthathios could have pushed their initial suspicions to some kind of conclusion that could have offered fresh perceptions of mission theory and praxis. Osthathios who noted that there is "a world of difference between Eastern Churches and the Western Churches as regards historical criticism and the limitation it imposes on our basic dogmas like the Incarnation and the Holy Trinity," and goes on to contend that such differences have become "almost unbridgeable," nevertheless claims that "Both East and West will agree that the aim of mission is to make everyone do the will of God." It is precisely in trying to discern as to how the "will of God" has been understood by different churches - those in countries who claimed some kind of divine right not only to colonize, but also to theologise - that we ought to locate the problematization of "differences." Paulos Mar Gregorios, in assessing the values of the European Enlightenment and searching for new foundations, characterises the nature of the European Enlightenment as "this unique phenomenon that broke out in Europe in the eighteenth century and has managed to shape and misshape the entire world in two centuries." (emphasis mine).

The tension between dominant older paradigms and the increasingly impatient voices of those who had been marginalised for generations were experienced, and listened to, at the eleventh ecumenical conference on world mission and evangelism, which took place in Salvador, Bahia, Brazil in late 1996. In analysing the achievements of the conference Christopher Duraisingh wrote:

Salvador ... marks a shift in mission thinking and practice from colonial to post-colonial and from Eurocentric to polycentric. It dramatically portrays as never before that churches around the world have reached a critical point in the movement from being more or less homogenous in faith, worship and life to a situation of theological and liturgical heterogeneity, rooted in a profound commitment to express Christian faith and witness in terms of particular local cultural idioms. This is accompanied by a refusal to allow distinct local formulations of the good news in Christ to be reduced or conformed to a single paradigmatic perspective shaped elsewhere.

Given this reality, then how effective have we been in bringing to the understanding of the issues of baptism, conversion, and mission a distinctive "local cultural idiom"? Are we engaged in a process of consolidation of theological gains made, or will our thinking remain candles in the wind, subject to the twists and turns of capricious winds blowing from various directions, and sometimes artificially created by "fans" run by the motor of vested interests motivated by a selfish global and economic agenda?

Conclusion - Messing with life's mess:

This exercise has been intended to situate and problematize various issues in relation to baptism, conversion, and mission in India today. I am aware that the word "fresh" has been used in the title of this presentation. For freshness to emerge, one has to be ready to mess with life's mess. Avoiding superficiality which skims the surface without dirtying oneself, a fresh look at these questions demands of us a faith commitment to the source of renewal, to that lonely and betrayed person, whose own baptism in the river Jordan, was a symbol of his commitment to being a part of messy human existence.

 

NOTES:

2 Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet (London: Jonathan Cape, 1999), p. 113.

3 See the essay by Sumit Sarkar, "Hindutva and the Question of Conversions," in K. N. Panikkar, ed. The Concerned Indian's Guide to Communalism (New Delhi: Viking, 1999), pp. 73 - 106.

4 "Strip religious minorities of special rights: VHP Leader," The Times of India, Bangalore, April 12, 1999, p. 7.

5 Deccan Herald, Bangalore (Vol. 52, No. 111), April 22, 1999, p. 16.

6 Among these are

- Joseph Mattam and Sebastian Kim, eds., Dimensions of Mission in India, FOIM III (Bombay: St. Pauls, 1995)

- Sunand Sumitra and F. Hranghkuma, eds., Doing Mission in Context (Bangalore: Theological Book Trust for Centre for Mission Studies, UBS, Pune, 1995)

- Joseph Mattam and Sebastian Kim, eds., Mission and Conversion: A Reappraisal FOIM IV (Mumbai: St. Pauls, 1996)

- Joseph Mattam and Sebastian Kim, eds., Mission Trends Today: Historical and Theological Perspectives FOIM V (Mumbai: St. Pauls, 1997)

- Abraham P. Athyal and Dorothy Yoder Nyce, eds., Mission Today: Challenges and Concerns (Chennai: Gurukul Lutheran Theological College and Research Institute, 1998)

- Somen Das, ed., Mission and Evangelism (Delhi: ISPCK, 1998)

- Jey J. Kanagaraj, ed., Mission and Missions: Essays in Honour of I. Ben Wati (Pune: Union Biblical Seminary, 1998)

- Francis Fernandez and Jose Varickasseril, eds., Mission: A Service of Love - Essays in Honour of George Kottuppallil, S.B.D. (Shillong: Vendrame Institute Publications, 1998)

- Joseph Mattam and Krickwin C. Marak, eds., Blossoms from the East: Contribution of the Indian Church to World Mission FOIM VI (Mumbai: St. Pauls, 1999).

The report of an international consultation held at the United Theological College, Bangalore, in September 1998 is found in

- Lalsangkima Pachuau, "An International Consultation on Mission and Ecumenics: Mission Should be Life-Centred," People's Reporter, 11, No. 21 (November 1 - 15, 1998), p. 5.

- The report of the "International Conference on Mission and Unity," organised by the National Council of Churches in India and the Gurukul Lutheran Theological College, Chennai, between February 27th and March 1st, 1999, is found in International Review of Mission, Vol. LXXXVIII, Nos. 348/349 (January/April 1999), pp. 136 - 140.

7 See the chapter, "Uniqueness: A Noun in Search of Adjectives?," in Stanley J. Samartha, Between Two Cultures: Ecumenical Ministry in a Pluralist World (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1996), pp. 146 - 166. Other examples of interaction include: J. Roasario Narchison, "Mission in the Context of Religious Fundamentalism: A Few Questions from Asia," in Mattam and Kim, eds., Dimensions of Mission in India, pp. 35 - 50; Jacob Kavunkal, "Elements of an Indian Christology," in Mattam and Marak, eds., Blossoms from the East, pp. 90 - 111; K. P. Aleaz, "A Theology of Religions for a Viable Theology of Mission," in Das, ed., Mission and Evangelism, pp. 72 - 100.

8 Thomas Pulloppillil, "The Mission of the Church and Theologising in India," in Fernandez and Varickasseril, eds., Mission: A Service of Love, p. 69.

9 Venceslaus Lawrence, "Mission in the Bible," in Das, ed., Mission and Evangelism, p. 34.

10 J. Mattam, "A Theology of Grace," in Mattam and Marak, eds., Blossoms From the East, p. 83.

11 "Final Statement," 11.b, in Kurien Kunnumpuram, Errol D'Lima and Jacob Parappally, eds., The Church in India in Search of a New Identity (Bangalore: N.B.C.L.C., 1997), p. 391.

12 Monica Melanchthon, "Mission in a Multi-Faith Context," in Athyal and Nyce, eds., Mission Today, p. 131.

13 F. Hrangkhuma, "Mission in Context," in Kanagaraj, ed., Mission and Missions, pp. 125 - 127.

14 In Which Way Forward Indian Missions? A Critique of Twenty-Five Years 1972 - 1997 (Bangalore: SAIACS Press, 1998), p. 131.

15 K. P. Aleaz, "Conversion: Some Indian Christian Reflections," National Council of Churches Review, Vol. CXV, No. 1 (January 1995), pp. 28 - 42.

16 David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991), p. 488.

17 J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Pressure on the Hyphen: Aspects of the Search for Identity Today in Indian-Christian Theology," in Religion and Society, Vol. 44, No. 4 (December 1997), p. 36.

18 Ashish Chrispal, "Contextualisation," in Sumitra and Hranghkuma, eds., Doing Mission in Context, p. 12. The earlier quotations are on pp. 10 - 11.

19 V. Premasagar, "Mission and Evangelism from a Biblical Perspective," in Das, ed., Mission and Evangelism, p. 10.

20 Paul F. Knitter, "Jesus and the Other Names: Christian Mission and Global Responsibility (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1996), p. 139.

21 S. Wesley Ariarajah, "Reading the Bible in a Pluralistic Context," in The Ecumenical Review, Vol. 51, No. 1 (January 1999), p. 10.

22 J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Listening to the Speaking Bible: Interpretingthe Use of the Bible in a Letter of Cyprian of Carthage," in Daniel Jones Muthunayagom, ed., The Bible Speaks Today: Essays in Honour of Gnana Robinson (Delhi: ISPCK, 2000), p. 81.

23 R. S. Sugirtharajah, Asian Biblical Hermeneutics and Postcolonialism: Contesting the Interpretations (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), p. 128.

24 Leelamma Athyal, "Church: An Obstacle to God's Mission? A Theological Appraisal of P. Chenchiah's Thoughts on Church and Mission," in Athyal and Nyce, eds., Mission Today, p. 55.

25 Didache, 7.9.4b, translated in Understandings of the Church, trans. and ed., E. Glenn Hinson (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986), p. 22.

26 David Udayakumar, "Church-in-Mission: Facing Contemporary Challenges," in Athyal and Nyce, eds., Mission Today, p. 24.

27 J. Patmury, "Laity and Mission," in Mattam and Kim, eds., Mission Trends Today, p. 150.

28 See J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Infant versus Believers' Baptism: Search for an Ecumenical Understanding," in Jeevadhara, Vol. XXIX, No. 172 (July 1999), pp. 298 - 312.

29 Joseph Mattam, "Indian Attempts Towards a Solution to the Problems of Conversion," in Mattam and Kim, eds., Mission and Conversion, pp. 125 - 126.

30 Religion and Society, Vol. XIX, No. 1, March 1972. The contents include: Christopher Duraisingh, "Some dominant motifs in the New Testament doctrine of Baptism" (pp. 5 - 17); T. V. Philip, "The meaning of Baptism: A historical survey" (pp. 18 - 28); Ivan Extross, 'Theology of Conversion and Baptism in the Indian Context' (pp. 29 - 36); D. A. Thangasamy, 'Views of some Christian thinkers in India on Conversion and Baptism' (pp. 37 - 50); J. R. Chandran, "Baptism - A Scandal or a Challenge?" (pp. 51 - 58); Richard W. Taylor, "On acknowledging the Lordship of Jesus Christ without shifting tents" (pp. 59 - 68); M. M. Thomas, Lesslie Newbigin and Alfred C. Krass, "Baptism, the Church and Koinonia" (pp. 69 - 90); The Biennial Consultation - 1971 (pp. 91 - 97). The theme of this issue is the same as that of the Consultation.

31 Ibid., p. 4.

32 Godwin R. Singh, ed., A Call to Discipleship: Baptism and Conversion (Delhi: Indian Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1985). The contents include Thomas Mar Athanasius, "Baptism and Conversion in the context of Mission in India" (pp. 9 - 15); United Theological College Group, "The Concept of Baptism in the Judeo-Christian Tradition" (pp. 16 - 63); Jolly Thomas, "Baptism and Discipleship" (pp. 64 - 75); M. J. Joseph and K. J. Pothen, "Baptism as kerygmatic response to Christ" (pp. 76 - 83); G. R. Singh, "Baptism in the Episcopal and Non-Episcopal Liturgies in the Indian Churches" (pp. 85 - 111); G. Rajamani and C. Lawrence, "Baptism and Conversion with special reference to socio-cultural dimensions" (pp. 112 - 136); Anto Karlkaran, "Mission, Conversion, Baptism: Their inter-relation" (pp. 137 - 166); Samuel Rayan, "Baptism and Conversion: The Lima Text in the Indian context" (pp. 167 - 187); Report and Findings (pp. 188 - 199).

33 Ibid., p. 2. Also see J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Baptism and the Unity of the Church in India Today," in Michael Root and Risto Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church (Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; Geneva: WCC Publications, 1998), pp. 196 - 207.

34 See the struggle epitomised in the question "What about Conversions?" in Knitter, Jesus and he Other Names, op. cit., pp. 121 - 124. Knitter wrestles with the question regarding conversions being not to the church but rather to the Kingdom, and the implications of the necessity of the community called the church.

35 M. M. Thomas, "The Church - The Fellowship of the Baptised and the Unbaptised?," in Prasanna Kumari, ed., Liberating Witness: Dr. K. Rajaratnam's Platinum Birthday Anniversary Commemoration, Vol. 1 (Madras: Gurukul, 1995), p. 13.

36 Geevarghese Mar Osthathios, "Mission and the Uniqueness of Jesus Christ," in Mattam and Kim, eds., Dimensions of Mission in India, p. 81. The earlier quotations are on p. 67.

37 Paulos Mar Gregorios, A Light too Bright: The Enlightenment Today (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1992), p. 29.

38 Christopher Duraisingh, "Salvador: A Signpost of the New in Mission," in Christopher Duraisingh, ed., Called to One Hope: The Gospel in Diverse Cultures (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1998), p. 194.

 

Conversion and its Discontents

 

Introduction: Locating Conversion

"Introspection about their own location in society has not been too common among Indian historians. Our historiographical essays tend to become bibliographies, surveys of trends or movements within the academic guild. They turn around debates about assumptions, methods, ideological positions. ..."

Although there are studies focusing on conversion as a dislocation, we have tended to focus more on conversion as an event or as a process. Much additional work needs to be done on locating conversion within the social history of communities and peoples impacted upon by various religio-economic forces both from within and without.

In analysing conversion within the context of the reality of religious pluralism in India today, one would do well to engage in a process of reflective introspection. Do the discontents spawned by conversion arise from memory, or from praxis, or a combination of both? Are the fears generated by any conversion, or by activities labelled as pro-conversion, real or imagined, constructed or actual, or, if one recognises that simple binaries are too simplistic and contrived, are these fears something existential, arising from a sense of (dis)location? What is the relationship between such a sense, if any, of dislocation, and the sites of the location of culture? Such prolematization is necessary in any discourse on conversion, which seeks to take seriously the reality that conversion has functioned as a disruption within the pluralistic context of India, both now and in the past.

Conversion and "Othering":

The ghastly murder of the Catholic priest, Father Arul Doss in the Jamabani village in Mayurbhanj District of Orissa State on September 2nd, 1999, has once again brought to the fore the question regarding minority rights, the question regarding the freedom of religious choice and the question regarding the mechanics of conversion.

Among many "fact-finding" teams sent to the spot was one sent by the Orissa BJP unit, which after visiting the scene issued a statement where the killing was linked to "cultural invasion by the Christians" which led to tension. Other points made include one about the "disparity" between the attitudes and values embodied by Father Arul Doss and those of the local tribals, and another about the "consumption of liquor with young tribal ladies," and the finding of "tinned food containing meat preparations suspected to be beef ... ."

These so-called findings all point to one reality, namely, the continuting othering of Christians and Christianity. This "othering" takes various facets, including the "othering" through difference, difference in terms of local and external culture, difference in terms of acceptable and unacceptable food and drink, and difference in terms of debased sexual attitudes. This othering by the majority-dominant community is not limited to the Christians alone. Such a tendency has also been noticed and analysed in relation to the Muslim community in India not only now but in the historical past. Thus, in commenting on Swami Vivekananda and his writings on the Muslims, one perceptive commentator notes that a persistent constructed discourse on the part of such persons "prepared the ground on which was erected a notion of the Other within Indian society. Engagement with this Other became something integral to one's own 'self-awareness'. This Other was a direct replication of the logic of the colonial Other. The presence of this Other in Indian society was something malignant ... ."

This "othering" has manifested itself in various ways both in the history of Christianity in India and in the present political scenario. At its simplest it manifests itself in terms of questions regarding loyalty and financial dependency; at its most vicious it manifests itself in terms of a discourse where the right of Christians to call themselves Indians is itself called into question. Hence, the majority-dominant community, by appealing to the romanticised myth of an ancient pristine society, provides legitimation and sanction for a discourse which calls into question those that appear to be impositions and accretions on such a society. Therefore

[g]iven the uncritical identification of a community with an entire past, communalism finds it easier to appropriate tradition because it inserts its message into existing, unspoken biases or prejudices, stereotypical images of self and others, and unsubstantiated assumptions of society. It mobilizes itself through a frenzied appeal to the imagination of a society.

In talking about "the imagination of a society," one must not forget how the Western imperialist-expansionist enterprise of colonization, with its attendant construction of "Orientalism," provided the majority-dominant community with a double-edged weapon - on the one hand to use the tools provided by such an enterprise to create a superstructure which suited its own legitimation of superiority; and, on the other, to claim to be the authentic dispossessed, struggling to reclaim its rights. The contemporary playing-out of this legacy is brought out in an article by King, who notes that

[t]hrough the colonially established apparatus of the political, economic and educational institutions of India, contemporary Indian self-awareness remains deeply influenced by Western presuppositions about the nature of Indian culture. The prime example of this being the development since the nineteenth century of an indigenous sense of Indian national identity and the construction of a single 'world' religion called 'Hinduism.'

This in turn has led to a situation, where Alam correctly notes: "The Other cannot be constitutive of your self; rather the self has to be protected from the contaminating effects of the Other's presence."

If this is so then it is hardly surprising that significant sections of the majority-dominant community treats any symptoms of what they consider the disease of conversion as a foreign body, whose nauseating effects are not to be merely treated, but surgically excised.

Conversion and the Reality of Hybridity:

Whether one looks at a Church of South India congregation in the "Harijan Wadi" of a village in Chittoor District of Andhra Pradesh, or at a New Life Pentecostal congregation in the suburbs of Mumbai, whether one looks at a Syrian Orthodox community in Chungom, Kottayam, or at a Mizo Presbyterian Church in Mission Veng in Aizwal, whether one looks at the worshipers at the Indian mass celebrated at the National Biblical Catechetical and Liturgical Centre in Bangalore, or at a newly set up Baptist congregation among former estate workers in the Andaman and Nicobar islands, one thing that would strike even the most impartial observer is the reality of hybridity, hybridity which manifests itself not only in things external, but very often in terms of attitudes, thought-processes and historical self-understanding within the overall identity discourse.

Recognising the reality of hybridity in relation to conversion means that what is needed is a deeper and more sensitive analysis of why a "change in alliance" has taken place. What does such a change mean in terms of alliances previously held? What happens to alliances which occupied the centre? Should we use a circle imagery uncritically or is the imagery of an ellipse, with two foci, heuristically more helpful?

It is clear that hybridity calls into question any talk about some kind of pristine, "original" identity. In the article analysing the issue of identity, I wrote:

Any talk about identity has also to take into account the reality that the identity issue is not something which is value neutral. On the one hand there is the talk about a larger cross-cultural transnational identity. On the other there is the attempt to define a micro identity. One ought to note that the term "Christian" conceals more than it reveals. At the same time, one must recognise that the term "Indian" is a political construct. This understanding serves as an admonition against any form of an easy romanticised quest for the "original" which underlies the present form of existence.

Hybridity, not only of those seeking conversion, but also of other people, also includes another element, which must be taken note of, especially in a pluralistic context where one is discussing conversion. This is the aspect of how hybridity is also a construct from within in response to a situation without. From an analysis of attitudes towards Christians in the ancient Roman world comes the significant comment that "[w]hat others thought about Christianity was a factor in shaping how Christians would think about themselves and how they would present themselves to the larger world."

Reading and Resignifying the Past -

A Story from the Past and Some Questions for the Present:

One of the ways in which we can learn about the meaning and implications of conversion in the present is by revisiting the past, and dialoguing with it. In order to facilitate this I will quote an extended report of a conversion recorded in one of the reports of the Basel Mission.

In Mangalore the 17th November 1871, two Christians came to me and asked me to go at once with them to a house in the town where a woman wished to become a Christian and asked for a Missionary. They told me to be quick as another party had sent for a Roman Catholic priest. Our Catechist was there waiting for us. When we reached the home, he told us: "It is too late, she is baptized," and related that the priest asked the woman: "Do you wish to become a Christian?" She said: "I wish to join those who serve the true God." Priest: "I will tell you something about the true God. He is the Creator and Lord and has given us life. But there are two more Gods, Christ and the Holy Spirit. Christ came and died for our sins and he left us a prayer in the Latin language which must be used frequently. There is also a Creed, but you can learn it afterwards. Will you now be baptized according to this doctrine?" She said: "Yes," whereupon he produced a phial with oil, annointed and baptized her.

But her husband Subaya said: "I will not join the Roman Catholics, but your church." And two days afterwards, he came to my house, and declared that he now desired to become a Christian. Seeing that he was very ill-at-ease, I asked him what he wanted to receive by it? He said: "Peace. I want to be free from the fear of demons, and you must help me to it." In the evening I went to his house with two Catechists. We explained to him that only Jesus can give rest to his soul. He said: "I will join you and believe in Christ." We prayed with him. Afterwards I asked: "Are there any Bhutas in your house?" Subaya: "Yes." Catechist: "Are they your property? and what shall be done with them?" Subaya: "They are mine, and I will put them away." I then asked him to show them. He brought some articles and bid us follow him. In the courtyard he took a pickaxe and, without saying a word, began with all his strength to break down the Thulasikatte (place with the sacred plant Thulasi). In a moment a crowd of 200 men had gathered, and one ran towards him, seized his arm and said: "What are you destroying here?" Subaya: "I have the right to pull down what I have built."

Then I interfered and said to the man: "If Subaya does wrong, go call the Police, but you must not hurt him in my presence." His elder sister also lamented and accused me as the author of such a misfortune, saying how it was that I, teacher of good things, could have caused her brother to act in such a manner. Subaya did not listen to her but proceeded to the house-temple. Finding it locked, he broke the door, threw out the objects of worship, and knocked them about to become rid of this terror also. Then he told his sister: "You are my sister; if you are in want I will give you rice; but I will no longer suffer any offerings in this place."

The next day I heard that Subaya's sister intended to bring a suit against me, as she was the owner and Subaya only the manager of the house by the rules of Aliyasantana (in which the property descends in the female line). On the 4th December the Catechist and myself had to appear before the Magistrate, Mr. Webster, who after careful investigation decided that Subaya, as the manager of property, was entitled to destroy it, so that we had not committed any unlawful act. He told us however that it would be advisable for Missionaries not to be present when objects of demon-worship were being destroyed under such circumstances.

Although this man gave such good promises in the beginning, we have since had reason to doubt whether he will fulfil them. May the Lord make him quite sincere!

This story has several of the ingredients of the issues that need further explication in any discussion of conversion in the Indian context. The questions listed below are just some examples to proceed in this matter. They are not meant to be questions to which a direct, straightforward answer is sought, but rather questions which are aimed at problematizing the issue. The questions include:

- Why do people desire conversion? What are the motives, desires and needs which are explicit or implicit?

Samartha has noted that "Conversion, instead of being a vertical movement toward God, a genuine renewal of life, has become a horizontal movement of groups of people from one community to another, very often backed by economic affluence, organizational strength and technological power. It also seriously disrupts the political life of the country by influencing the voting patterns of people. Why then should Christians be surprised when the very words mission and conversion provoke so much anxiety, suspicion, and fear?" If this is so, then how much of this suspicion and fear is justified? How does one situate an individual who desires conversion?

- How has the role of different Christian agencies in the conversion procedures been understood? What about the element of competition? How has the theological position of another agency been portrayed?

The General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, in his address to the 1998 Harare Assembly uses the word "conversion" in relation to the churches themselves and asks: "The ecumenical jubilee is ... a call to conversion, to repentance and critical self-assessment, acknowledging the accumulated guilt and coresponsibility in dividing the body of Christ. Turn to God in Christ - this is the invitation to all churches to leave their defensiveness and self-righteousness and to turn to the source and centre of their unity: Christ, the crucified and risen one." When such a call has been given how does one understand and justify the presence of a myriad of evangelical agencies in India, with different understandings of mission and the necessity of conversion, which so often flourish by demonizing other Christians of other theological or ecclesiological perspectives, who may have different understandings of the place and role of religions within a pluralistic country and different understandings of the inter-relationships between them?

- How has the link between conversion and baptism been understood?

In an earlier article I noted that in India, any discussion about baptism and conversion takes on "added significance because of the understanding that after baptism the 'converted' person has not only changed his or her religion but also social milieu, habits, customs, and manners, in addition to forfeiting several legal rights, especially with regard to the inheritance of property. This led to the formation of 'mission compounds' and social ghettos where Christians could take their place as one more subcaste or subsect among the thousands of such subcastes and subsects in India." If this is so, then what does one understand in speaking of baptism and community? If baptism results in the formation of a new community (something that has been questioned in view of the Dalit experience) then what is the relationship between the old and the new communities?

- How has the role of the family been addressed?

One has to take seriously the words of J. R. Chandran, who wrote: "The traditional image of separation which has created the impression of the 'baptised' being a loss to his original Hindu or Muslim family or community needs radical re-thinking. Separation can only be from sin and not necessarily from one's community. Baptism seeks to bring unity and not disunity." Is baptism to be regarded as a radical break from the ties of the past, where that which once seemed central is now to be understood as accursed, where the family itself may seem to be the carriers of those things which tie one down, preventing one from the seeking and embracing of the new, the new which offers a whole new world of meanings, relationships, symbols, and attitudes?

- What is the relationship between conversion and the law of the land?

If, as M. M. Thomas pointed out: " ... the right to propagation is not the right to convert. The former is the right of persuasion only. The right to convert is that of the hearer. And it is necessary that no kind of inducement or coercion is present to violate the moral and spiritual integrity of the person or group propagating or deciding to convert. But any law in this matter is difficult to implement and is likely to be misused. ..." then how does one understand the right to propagate one's religion as mandated in the Constitution of India in relation to the call to baptize as indicated in Matthew?

- What can one say about the disposition of those engaged in the conversion process toward the objects of veneration in the religion currently professed by those who now seek conversion? Some disturbing words need to be looked at here. S. N. Balagangadhara, Professor at the University of Ghent in Belgium, writes:

Tolerance is a civic virtue in a secularized religious culture like the West. In India too, like in most places, different peoples and practices coexist. However, they are premissed not on tolerance but on indifference. (The contrast notion here is that of interference.) Neither religious intolerance nor civic tolerance makes sense in Indian culture. Examples of intermittent persecutions of groups belonging to different traditions -- there must be many such -- do not illustrate religious intolerance in India. If one insists they do, these examples merely illustrate one's own ignorance regarding whether and why religions are intolerant of each other.

Obviously, Balagangadhara is not using the terms 'tolerance' , 'secularized' and 'indifference' as we normally use them in our conversations. The above comments are part of a critique of a liberal idea of secularism which is basically allied to the other western modern ideas such as nation and liberty. The issue of non-interference is of the utmost importance here. Is it possible to be non-interfering and yet be messengers of the gospel? Is it possible to remain Christians without creating fear and anxiety about conversions? Is it possible for religious people to continue to practice their religion without causing disruptions in the cultural contexts around us? Can there be conversion without discontent?

END NOTES

The Rev. Dr. J. Jayakiran Sebastian is a Presbyter of the Church of South India, and Associate Professor in the Department of Theology and Ethics, at the United Theological College, Bangalore.

2 Sumit Sarkar, Writing Social History (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 1.

3 See for example the case studies analysed by G. Rajamani and C. Lawrence, "Baptism and Conversion with Special Reference to Socio-Cultural Dimensions," in Godwin R. Singh, ed., A Call to Discipleship: Baptism and Conversion (Delhi: ISPCK, 1985), pp. 112 - 136.

4 See the outstanding work by Gauri Viswanathan, Conversion, Modernity and Belief (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998).

5 See the essay by Sumit Sarkar, "Hindutva and the Question of Conversions," in K. N. Panikkar, ed. The Concerned Indian's Guide to Communalism (New Delhi: Viking, 1999), pp. 73 - 106.

6"BJP says Father Doss had angered tribals," report in The Asian Age, Vol. 6, No. 199 (6 September 1999), pp. 1 - 2.

7 Javeed Alam, India: Living With Modernity (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1999), p. 112.

8 Alam, India: Living with Modernity, Ibid., p. 184.

9 See Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1994 [1978]). The important insights and methodological warnings of David C. Scott on pre-colonial orientalism, especially in a context where the missionary does not initially create, but enters into, structures of authority, perceived or otherwise, must not be lost sight of. See his article, "Precolonial Orientalism in South Asia," in David C. Scott and Israel Selvanayagam, eds., Re-Visioning India's Religious Traditions: Essays in Honour of Eric Lott (Delhi: ISPCK, 1996), pp. 3 - 21.

10 Richard King, "Orientalism and the Modern Myth of 'Hinduism'," in Numen, Vol. XLVI, No. 2 (1999), pp. 184 - 185. Material from this article now appear in Chapters 4 and 5 of Richard King, Orientalism and Religion: Postcolonial Theory, India and the 'Mystic East' (New Delhi: Oxford, 1999).

11 Alam, India: Living with Modernity, op. cit., p. 117.

12 I have analysed aspects of this in my article, J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Pressure on the Hyphen: Aspects of the Search for Identity Today in Indian-Christian Theology," in Religion and Society, Vol. 44, No. 4 (December 1997), pp. 27 - 41.

13 For a counter example where Indian "natives" use "the powers of hybridity to resist baptism and to put the project of conversion in an impossible position" see the chapter "Signs Taken for Wonders: Questions of ambivalence and authority under a tree outside Delhi, May 1817," (pp. 102 - 122) in the book by Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994). The quotation is on p. 118.

14 These comments and questions come from my presentation at the Gurukul Summer Institute, Kodaikanal, 25th April - 7th May, 1999, on the theme: "New Horizons of Christian Mission: A Theological Exploration," entitled: "A Fresh Look at the Issues of Conversion and Baptism in Relation to Mission." (to be published)

15 Sebastian, "Pressure on the Hyphen," p. 36.

16Robert L. Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), p. 47.

17 The idea of resignification comes from the phrase "reinscribe the past, reactivate it, relocate it, resignify it," in Homi K. Bhabha, "Culture's In-Between," in Stuart Hall and Paul du Gay, eds., Questions of Cultural Identity (London: Sage Publications, 1996), p. 59.

18 The report from the "Thirty-Second Report of the Basel German Evangelical Mission in South-Western India," is by Mr. Daimelhuber, a missionary, printed in the Report of the Basel German Evangelical Missionary Society for 1871 (Mangalore: Stolz & Reuther, Basel Mission Press, 1872), pp. 11 - 12. The missionary is identified as H. Daimelhuber, of Germany, whose station of service was Mangalore, and who began active service in 1870, on p. 4.

19 S. J. Samartha, One Christ - Many Religions: Toward a Revised Christology (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991), pp. 148 – 149.

20 Konrad Raiser, "Report of the General Secretary," in Diane Kessler, ed., Together on the Way: Official Report of the Eighth Assembly of the World Council of Churches (Geneva: WCC Publications, 1999), p. 87.

21 J. Jayakiran Sebastian, "Baptism and the Unity of the Church in India Today," in Michael Root and Risto Saarinen, eds., Baptism and the Unity of the Church (Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge, U.K.: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.; Geneva: WCC Publications, 1998), p. 199.

22 An important book adressing this is James Massey, Dalits in India: Religion as a Source of Bondage or Liberation with Special Reference to Christians (Delhi: ISPCK, 1995).

23 J. R. Chandran, "Baptism -- A Scandal or a Challenge?" in Religion and Society, Vol. XIX, No. 1, March 1972, p. 58. Chandran's article has been reprinted in his collection of essays, The Church in Mission (Madras: Christian Literature Society, 1991), pp. 9 - 17.

24 M. M. Thomas, The Church's Mission and Post-Modern Humanism: Collection of Essays and Talks 1992 - 1996 (Tiruvalla: CSS and Delhi: ISPCK, 1996), p. 113.

25 S. N. Balagangadhara, "The Future of the Present: Thinking through Orientalism," in Cultural Dynamics, Vol. 10, No. 2 (July 1998), p. 112. This issue of Cultural Dynamics has the theme "India: Theorizing the Present." Balagangadhara is the author of 'The Heathen in His Blindness ...': Asia, the West and the Dynamic of Religion (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994).

 

The Symbiosis Between Poverty and Globalization: A Need for a Critique from Political Ethics

 

INTRODUCTION

The historic Millennial Summit of the United Nations held during the first week of September with the hundred and fifty-odd world leaders assembled at New York adopted a wide-ranging declaration on some of the most impending problems that the global community face today. The central challenge, the Summit deliberated, was in ensuring that globalization becomes a positive force. The leaders of the world underlined that, ‘’while globalization offers great opportunities, at present its benefits are very unevenly shared, and its cost unevenly distributed.’’ A few questions could perhaps be raised. Is it possible for globalization to be inclusive and equitable? Can globalization reduce the poverty syndrome? Would the vision of the leaders assembled at the Summit affirming their faith in globalization becoming benevolent in which economic and technological progress distributed to unite rather than divide the community is a reality or just plain rhetoric?

Coming down from global to national, the President of India, Mr. K.R. Narayanan, in a remarkable speech delivered on the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the Republic. While speaking on the nation’s economy, the core message of the President was that, ‘’the three-way fast lanes of liberalization, privatization and globalization cannot be placed above everything else and cannot be an end in itself.’’ The President’s warning is directed against the dominant discourse carried out by the think tank in the financial media which comprises of the Government (both Center and State). Since 1991, the think tank has always pushed its discourse that India should move faster on ‘’the three-way fast lanes of liberalization, privatization and globalization.’’ The three-way fast lanes though it posits the pace of economic growth, a vast majority of the people have been left untouched by this transformation. Echoing this concern, the President observed,

’’We find that justice - social, economic and political - remains an unrealized dream for millions of our fellow citizens.’’ While giving specific instances, Mr. Narayanan said, ‘’we have the largest number of people below the poverty line and the largest number of children suffering from malnutrition.’’ While expressing skepticism about the import of economic reforms on the situation of poverty and injustice, the President observed that , ‘’the three-way fast lanes of liberalization, privatization and globalization must provide safe pedestrian crossing for the unempowered. ... ‘‘1

On similar lines while addressing the theme ‘’poverty reduction’’ at the tenth session of UNCTAD in Bangkok, the outgoing Managing Director of the International Monetary Fund (IMF), Mr. Michael Camdessus, urged the international financial institutions to move in the direction of ‘’humanizing globalization.’’ The U.S. Representative to the UNCTAD session spoke of a ‘’new vision of an inclusive globalization that works for everyone.’’ 2 These two statements very clearly demonstrate a very clear shift from a reinvention of globalization and a redefinition of the First-World and the Two-Thirds World to the consequences of an ‘’exclusion’’ of marginalised countries from the process of globalization itself.

As against this background, an attempt is made in this paper to inquire the assumption of world leaders that globalization would be benevolent thereby eradicating/reducing poverty. Further I would like to examine the symbiosis between poverty and globalization and thus see the eventual consequential effects of the symbiosis. In the last section, the need for an ethical critique from political ethics will be explored.

II

MANIFESTATIONS OF POVERTY

The United Nations decade dedicated to the eradication of poverty (1997-2000) has already begun. In tune with this global rhetoric, the United Front Government in its Common Minimum Program made eradication of poverty as its main emphasis along with a seven-point agenda for ensuring safe drinking water, primary education for all, primary health care, housing, food security, road networks and mid-day meals to be implemented by A.D. 2000.

Though both the United Nations and India have celebrated fifty years, they have been criticized for failing to translate the stated mandate for the disadvantaged millions. Half a century after Independence, as of now, we have the largest population of poor people in the world, one third of our rural population is below the poverty line and despite the UN agencies’ massive aid projects, the development assistance of the World Bank, bilateral aid, the Center and State governments’ intervention, the gap between the rich and the poor has doubled in the last three decades - fifteen years ago the lowest 20 per cent of global population received 2.5 per cent of global wealth whereas at present, the share has been reduced to less than 1.3 per cent. For example, the 1999 UNDP Human Development Report records that the gap between the rich and the poor among nations as well as within nations has widened. Even the World Bank in its Report for 1999 concedes that raising the GNP is not enough to improve human development, other social measures are needed. The trickle-down theory of economic development cannot bring out the desired results. It has also pointed out that India is ‘a country of stark contrasts and disparities.’ Among the widening contradictions some seem to be glaring. Undoubtedly food grain production has increased fourfold but 653 per cent of children under four remain undernourished; literacy has doubled, yet half the population is illiterate, life expectancy has improved but only 927 females survive for every 1000 males. As we have entered into the twenty-first century, it is imperative on our part to look at the scenario with bare facts and figures. In concrete terms:

The Asian Development Bank estimates that every third Asian is poor, judged by the World Bank interim of a per capita daily income of one US Dollar. South Asia, one of the poorest regions in the world, now has more than 900 million poor people of whom 450 million are in India. In addition to the rich-poor divide, the rural-urban divide is also increasing. In his recent budget speech, the Finance Minister pointed out that 40 per cent of our villages do not have proper roads, that 1.8 lakh villages do not have primary schools, that 4.5 lakh villages have drinking water and sanitation problems, that there is a shortage of 140 lakh rural dwellings.

Hunger and malnutrition are the most serious manifestations of poverty since the poor tend to use over 75 per cent of their earnings for the purchase of food. ... The UN Commission for the nutrition challenges of the twenty-first century, in its Report submitted on March 20, 2000, has pointed out that ’’about one in four new-born children in developing countries - around 30 million each year - suffer retarded growth in the womb, an indication of how the nutritional well-being of mothers in pregnancy remains one of the most neglected areas in world health. At present rates of progress, about one billion stunted children will grow up with impaired mental development by 2020.’’ Among them, over 300 million will be in India.

About 35 million, or a third of our children between the ages of 6 and 10, have no opportunities for school education. Large numbers of poor children are ‘’pushed out’’ of the school system within 2 to 3 years of their entering it. We are thus beginning this century, frequently referred to as the Knowledge and Innovations Century, with every third child being handicapped at birth in brain development due to poverty-induced maternal and foetal under and malnutrition and every

third child left out of the educational system.3

Notably, at the beginning of the twentieth century about 40 to 45 per cent of the world’s population lived below the then poverty line. At the end of the century, the same proportion of the much larger global population remained below the poverty line. For example, between 1960 and 1980, the figure above quoted had fallen to around 25 per cent, but the following decades of aggressive neo-liberal economic-corporate globalization we could witness alarming inequalities in the distribution of wealth and income that we have ever witnessed in the history of humankind. Almost all the Reports, namely, UNDP, IMF, WB, UNCTAD, ILO, WHO and others, amply demonstrates and subscribes to this alarming scenario being witnessed between and within nations. Who is responsible for this state of affairs?

III

GLOBALIZATION: TOWARDS A CONCEPTUAL CLARITY

Globalization, however, is not a thing which we can see, feel or taste. It is a concept used as a short form to convey a variety of processes, possibilities and positions. It is, therefore, capable of different kinds of interpretations. Hence to say anything meaningful about globalization, including how to respond to it, there is need to know as clearly as possible what it is all about. That is basically a theoretical task and hence I cannot accept the implication that theory is the anti-thesis of action. The two must go together. Theory without practice will be sterile; action without theory can be misdirected.4

The above quote by C.T. Kurien clearly reflects the ambivalence and subtleties involved as we discuss one of the key concepts that we have been trying to grapple with especially since the 1990s. Day in and day out we are surrounded by globalising developments viz., the emergence of the global communication industry; the phenomenal growth of transnational corporations; the dominance of finance capital; globalization of poverty and hunger. These have brought out the concept and phenomenon of globalization into prominence. It is being said that the constraints of geography are shrinking and that the world is becoming one single unit, a global village and one shopping center. Since globalization as a concept entails socio-economic. politico, cultural and religious dimensions, it has to be viewed comprehensively rather than compartmentally, the phenomenon and its processes.

Although scholars and others view the phenomenon of globalization from different perspectives, globalization as a concept and phenomenon should also be understood from the vantage point of history. One of the theoretical debates about globalization specifies the following possibilities:

  • that globalization has been in process since the dawn of history, that it has increased in its efforts that time, but that there has been a sudden and recent acceleration;
  • that globalization is contemporal with modernization and the development of capitalism, and that there has been a recent acceleration; or ... .5

 

If we take into account the components of globalization and the way in which it manifests itself especially the origin, growth and development of TNCs, is undoubtedly a long-term process with a recent acceleration rather than a sudden and qualitative shift. This development is traced through several phases by Dunning (1993, 96-136):

  • Mercantile capitalism and colonialism (1500-1800): exploitation of natural resources and agriculture in colonized regions by State-sponsored chartered companies (e.g., Dutch East India, Hudson’s Bay ...) .
  • Entrepreneurial and financial capitalism (1800-75): Embryonic development of control of supplier and consumer markets by acquisition; infrastructural investment by finance houses in transportation and construction.
  • International capitalism (1875-1945): rapid expansion of resource-based and market-seeking investments; growth of American-based international cartels.
  • Multinational capitalism (1945-60): American domination of FDI; expanded economic imperialism; expansion in scale of individual MNEs.
  • Globalising capitalism (1960-90): Shift from resource-based and market-seeking investment to spatial optimization of production and profit opportunities. ...6

Globalization is a process of rearrangement of the production, labor, capital and the world’s resources between people and countries. Globalization has also integrated the scattered and dispensed activities. In this process there are beneficiaries as well as victims. Some countries as a whole would benefit and the others lose. In the ultimate analysis some may be integrated and others be marginalised. They include countries, communities, groups and individuals. Therefore,

Globalization can thus be defined as worldwide social relations which link distant localities in such a way that local happenings are shaped by events occurring many miles away and vice versa. This is a dialectical process because such local happenings may move in an obverse direction from the very distanciated relations that shape them. Local transformation is as much a part of globalization as the lateral extension of social connections across time and space. (Giddens, 1990: 64).

IV

GLOBALIZATION AND POVERTY: A SINGLE GLOBAL PROCESS

Two millenniums have gone by and we have just entered the third millennium. We have evolved structures, institutions, and systems at the local, national and international levels for a just, inclusive and civil society. We claim that we have made many notable social and economic achievements in a democratic political setting, among them, the reduction in population growth and the creation of a large pool of technical and scientific talents. However, millenniums and centuries have passed by, but we, as of now, have the largest population of poor people in the world. Average earnings continue to drop drastically, indebtedness, bonded labor, illiteracy, homelessness, health hazards have increased and a host of social and economic ills not only persist but are on the increase. In terms of national indices, while the rich are manifestly getting richer, the poor have not benefited in any way and have also become poorer in many regions despite ‘Five-Year Plans,’ interventions by Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs), UN bodies, State and Center government policies and UN agencies like the UNDP, WHO, the European Union, World Bank, and the Planning Commission.

Why has this happened? And what shift in paradigm perspectives do we need to ensure that the Indian polity and the UN bodies are better able to translate rhetoric into ground realities? Before embarking on the question: Why has this happened?, it is important for us to ask why the incidence of poverty/hunger has always been the major problems all along and certainly grown phenomenally? This is the only problem though spoken and thought about a lot continues to grow and persist and more particularly, in recent times, the incidence of poverty portrays an appalling trend. This syndrome is linked to a web of factors such as unemployment, low wages, and marginalisation of large sectors of the population. In this vicious cycle, it is not only the Two-Thirds World who are entangled but the rich world. For example, ‘’Low levels of food consumption and malnutrition are also hitting the urban poor in rich countries. According to a recent study, 30 million in the United States are classified as ‘’hungry.’’7 As the UN and other agencies have rightly and honestly conceded that, ‘’the leading cause of death today worldwide is poverty.’’

The figures and data on poverty have always been fluctuating for the last few centuries. The incidence of poverty in terms of percentage may have been either ascending or descending. Comparatively speaking, the gap has not been narrowed-down. It has always been a tiny percentage of difference. In the last decade, it has been on the rise. Relatively speaking, only one problem viz., poverty, has not been addressed adequately and still persists and thus keeps millions on the brink of death. Politicians, heads of governments, international and national organizations, have attempted to address and eradicate/alleviate the problem of poverty. All these have ended with new answers to the age-old problem. Amidst wide-ranging perceptions on global poverty, is it on the decline or on the increase? With statistics to support or employing reductionist or holistic approaches, the incidence of poverty manifests itself at alarming levels. For example, two decades ago the global community used to speak of ‘poverty eradication,’ and now that rhetoric has been replaced by ’poverty alleviation,’ which clearly presupposes our inability to eliminate the scandal of poverty from the very face of the earth.

The main issue in fact is not whether poverty has increased or decreased, but why poverty could not be removed from the very face of our earth? How come the incidence of poverty manifests itself in appalling ways and numbers? Who is behind it? Poverty has never been an isolated problem manifesting itself in a particular pocket, region, nation or continent. It has always been a global problem. Since it has assumed a global character and is of global significance, this phenomenon is called as ‘globalization of poverty.’

Therefore, while examining and analyzing globalization and poverty, we need to look at the symbiosis that exists between them. It is indeed a relationship which is interwoven and complementary in nature. Poverty and globalization, are therefore an intimately linked process and thus breed on one another. As C.T. Kurien rightly pointed out, globalization is a concept and not a thing which we can see, feel, or taste. At the same time, globalization manifests itself in a variety of processes and forms. And the concept of globalization though it emerged five hundred years ago, did undergo a series of changes in its forms, processes and character.

The concept of globalization lays out the theoretical assumptions that underpins the following:

  1. The Economy: Social arrangements for the production, distribution and consumption of goods and tangible services,
  2. The Polity: Social arrangements for the concentration and application of power insofar as it involves the organized exchange of ... as well as such institutionalized transformation ...,
  3. Culture: Social arrangements for the production, exchange and expression of symbols that represent facts, affects, meanings, beliefs, preferences, tastes and values.8

 

And this concept is translated into a variety of processes, possibilities and positions by a force known as capitalism which has undergone a series of changes in the last five centuries (see quote on p. 4). As David Recardo (1772-1823) stressed that, ‘’the central goal of political economy is the scientific study of growth, the social ownership and the distribution of economic and political power, nationally and internationally.’’9 Therefore globalization as a concept and a working mechanism translates the compulsive logic and propellants of capitalist accumulation and dis-accumulation which could provide a key to the working and failure of the system. All along capital accumulation is not for consumption but for enhanced accumulation and profits and augments shareholder value which has been and continues to be the overriding goal of capitalism. Somehow, capitalism under different phases has managed to survive in crises, stagnation and ofcourse went ahead in booms.

In the present phase of corporate capitalism, the top 200 Transnational Corporations (TNCs) operate within the framework of ‘market-ushered economy,’ which raises the following question: Whether the goal of market power and the interest of the social classes are pushed, or, the issue of poverty is addressed? The current phase of globalization is significantly different than the previous phase in the areas of its scale, scope and speed of the circulation of capital and commodities, particularly financial capital which posits the high velocity of movement of capital, technological changes especially in communications. Thus,

The idea of ‘globalization’ is itself suspect. In its most widely expressed usage it argues for a universal incorporation to the world market place and the spread of benefits throughout the world. The empirical reality is neither universal incorporation nor the spread of benefits; there are wealthy creditors and bankrupt debtors; super-rich spectators and impoverished unemployed workers; imperial States that direct international financial institutions and subordinate those who submit to their dictates. A rigorous comparative analysis of contemporary world socio-economic realities would suggest that the ‘globalist’ concept of ‘interdependence’ is far less in understanding the world. ...10

The above quotes clearly indicate that globalization is yet another manifestation of capitalism and hence linked to the creation of wealth/affluence at the expense of abject poverty of the majority. The symbiosis

between poverty and globalization has long been evident by the widening gap between the privileged elite and the deprived masses. The 1999 UNDP Human Development Report records that the gap between the rich and the poor among nations and within nations has widened.

Capitalism which underwent different stages and the present phenomenon of globalization ushers in the ongoing process of escalating social and economic inequality. For example, at the beginning of the twentieth century about 40-45 per cent of the world’s population remained below the poverty line. Globalization can prosper and flourish either by perpetuating or escalating poverty. Globalization cannot reverse this ongoing process whereas, it could only intensify it. As M.S. Swaminathan succinctly says that,

there is no level playing field in this area since we have to pitch in this battle the economics of scale and money against the economics of livelihood, security and basic human needs. Industrial efficiency is being measured by increased production and decreased human employment, leading to what is being referred to as ‘’jobless growth.’’11

On these lines Vice-President, Krishna Kant, while inaugurating the Golden Jubilee celebrations of the Karnatak University said,

the forces of globalization and market economy presented tempting opportunities. Economic growth could be looked upon as an end in itself. In this process, it is quite easy to forget that economic growth could be highly exclusionary. It could generate wealth for some, while leaving many behind. If unhindered, this may potentially divide civil society. A more holistic approach could help avoid this. Wisdom lies in not losing sight of the big picture even while painting several small ones.12

Capitalism under the guise and in the form and process of globalization has excluded a vast majority of people. It lives and grows through exclusion and escalation of poverty. Globalization is like the amoeba. Nevertheless, its manifestations are poverty and hunger, migration, homelessness, illiteracy, unemployment, ill-health and a host of other inequities.

V

THE NEED FOR AN ETHICAL CRITIQUE

Poverty is the most cruel evil being encountered. Poverty impels people to do any evil act. Durkheim, a renowned social theorist, expounded that poverty leads to social deviance. According to him, societies go lawless when faced with extreme forms of poverty and economic disparity. ... Poverty and unequal dimensions of power, property and resources, are the main causes for growing social unrest around the world. ... ‘’Poverty is criminal because it does not allow people to be people. It is the cruelest denial of all of us human beings.’’ If the problem of poverty is not tackled effectively, the society will witness grave problems.13

Global disparity ultimately results in poverty between countries and regions and it is translated into classes and categories within them. Indeed it is reflected at the individual level too. Admittedly, as globalization progresses, economic disparity and incidences of poverty deepens. Therefore, we live in a world and time where humankind is threatened by the globalization of poverty. Poverty is scandalous and thus poses a moral challenge. How could a sizeable percentage of humanity be left outside the market forces and thus be marginated while a tiny percentage live amidst plenty? My response to that challenge is: There will be no new global order without a new world ethic, a global ethic which would respond to the ideological-philosophic and political underpinnings. It merely means the necessary construction of common human values, criteria and guiding principles. These values, criteria and guiding principles, ought to have common grounding and basic consensus on binding values despite differences.

When we refer to universal ethical standards it presupposes that science and technology cannot create the expected consensus. Since globalization and poverty has assumed phenomenal proportions and affects a vast section of our global society, they ought to be examined from the political and universal ethical standards. To bring clarity to some of the above terms/concepts,

‘Standard’ (originally meaning ‘banner’), nowadays means something that is accepted as a model, and by which other things are also oriented, i.e., a measure, criterion or norm. Here we are speaking of ethical standards, namely, of moral values, norms, attitudes.

I use ‘ethic’ to denote the basic moral attitude of an individual or a group whereas ethics means the (theosophical or theological) theory of moral values, norms and attitudes. (Often, though, the distinction is not drawn so clearly).14

Though arriving at an ethical consensus which is otherwise a difficult proposition, the only one concern/commonality which could bring together all kinds of differences is nothing but human beings. Human beings are at the center of God’s creation. God created human beings in His own image. It is an irony that a tiny percentage enjoy the fruits of God’s creation and the rest live in inhuman conditions. The mass of humanity live under horrendous conditions. It is against the principles of God’s order of creation. A mass of people continue to live in abject poverty and squalid conditions for centuries. Having made these people to live in such conditions, is immoral and unethical. Governments and politicians have failed to eradicate poverty from the face of the earth. Therefore, in a context like this, ‘’ ... the ethical imperative can be quite categorical, an obligation of conscience without any ifs or buts, not hypothetical but unconditional. ...’’15

In a scenario like this it is imperative on our part to look into the political ethics because the global society and the forces behind globalization have failed to exercise its political will. To counter this we need to evolve political ethics which means:

  • Political ethics does not imply an inflexible doctrinaire standpoint which allows no compromise. Ethical norms which take no account of the political situation are counter productive; ethical decisions are always concrete.
  • Nor does political ethics’ crafty, sharp tactics, which is an excuse for everything. Unless the political situation is assessed by ethical norms, the result is a total lack of conscience.
  • Instead of this, political ethics implies an obligation of conscience which is not focussed on what is good or right in the abstract, but on what is good or right in the concrete situation. Here a universal universal norm as a constant is combined with specific variables by the situation.16

In a globalising era, one class of people i.e., the privileged are becoming globalised and the teeming billions, the other class of people, particularly those who belong to the dalit and tribal categories are being pushed to the margins. In a context like this we as Christians are morally obligated to unconditionally intervene and combat the forces of globalization that create poverty and exclusion whether corporate globalization or finance globalization or global-capitalism undergirds the development of capitalism in the last five hundred years. Hence our engagement both intellectually as well as in action ought to be political which clearly underlines action based on normative ethical principles.

 

We live in an unjust situation in which what we consider good for ourselves is not available to everyone. Similarly, what we consider as a necessary condition for our life is not a condition for all. Therefore, justice, one of the major normative principles of political ethics would mean what is good or necessary for us ought to be available for all including the present and future generations. A good action or response would be toward establishing a just situation. The Old Testament speaks about righteousness and equality. The proof of our obedience lies in political and economic justice. The New Testament also talks about justice and love as principles embracing one another. Therefore, the present context demands political ethics which would create conditions for us to get involved concretely to replace and revert the present global order propelled by global capitalism.

 

 

References

1. Amal Roy, ‘’The State of the Republic,’’ in the Deccan Herald, (3-2-2000), p. 10.

2. See The Hindu (14-2-2000), p. 16.

3. M.S. Swaminathan, ‘’World Trade: Employment and Poverty - 1,’’ in The Hindu (21-4-2000), p. 12.

4. C.T. Kurien, ‘’Globalization: What is it About?’’ A paper presented at one of the seminars. Date and place n.a.

5. Malcolm Waters, Globalization, London: Routledge, 1995, p. 4.

6. Ibid., pp. 77-78

7. Quoted in Michel Chossudovsky, Globalization of Poverty, New Delhi: Madhyam Books, 1997, p. 34.

8. Malcolm Waters, Globalization, London: Routledge, 1995, pp. 7-8.

9. Quoted by Frederic Clairmont, ‘’The Global Corporation: Road to Serfdom,’’ in EPW (January 8, 2000), pp. 24.

10. James Petrus, ‘’Globalization: A Socialist Perspective,’’ in EPW (February 20, 1999), p. 459.

11. M.S. Swaminathan, ‘’World Trade, Employment and Poverty - 1, in The Hindu (21-4-2000), p. 12.

12. Quoted in the Deccan Herald , ‘’Liberalization Shouldn’t Ignore the Poor,’’ (5-2-2000), p. 1.

13. K.S. Narayana, ‘’Drawbacks in State Policy,’’ in the Deccan Herald (June 28, 1998), p. 22.

14. Hans Kung, ‘A Global Ethic for Global Politics and Economics,’ (London: SCM Press Ltd., 1997, p. 93.

15. Ibid., p. 73.

16. Ibid., p. 73.

The Sacrament of Civilization: The Groundwork of a Philosophy of Technology for Theology

The technologies we create and the cultures in which they are embedded are strikingly similar. The Western expansion and frontier mentality finds its expression in the constable where large caravans of families would move together to find a new home in new land. The clock which arose out of monasteries fit in perfectly with regimented monastic schedules and made scheduling the day easier and more standardized. With the clock and the assembly line, among others for sure, we may locate a distinctly linear, fixed, and foundational mode of rationality that we have christened with the blanket term "modernity." It is both a temporal disposition in culture and a cultural movement itself that crept into our civilization roughly with the emergence of the vernacular Bible that, for all intents and purposes, would not have been possible with out Gutenberg’s moveable type press. Thus we shall reasonably say that the seismic shift in civilization to a distinctly modern framework cannot be removed from its technological milieu. What is this apparent link between our cultures, events, and the technologies that are embedded in them?

The purpose of this essay is to show first, that there is a relationship between culture and technology that we ought not ignore. Second, we will explore this relationship more deeply and here find how it is that culture and technology shape each other. We will do this by juxtaposing the thought of Martin Heidegger and Marshall McLuhan. Third, using our Heidegger/McLuhan material, we shall focus on developments in technology that shape and reveal postmodern, non-foundational reasoning strategies. Thus, we are after an investigation of postmodern rationality as seen through the technologies within culture that give expression and shape to this rationality. The ultimate aim of this essay is to lay suitable and fruitful groundwork for the technology/theology discussion. We will lay this groundwork by showing that our understanding of rationality is expressed and also shaped within our cultures largely by the technologies we create and use.

The New Sacrament of Civilization

If we look at technology itself without its embeddedness in the culture that surrounds, creates, and is shaped by it, the relationship between technology and culture is an issue that we can answer only speculatively. Lewis Mumford’s life-long investigation of the interaction between culture and its technology, demonstrates convincingly the impossibility of separating a discussion of technology from the cultures in which it is invented and used. Technology is deeply rooted in the interaction of people with their environments and other people and so, is embedded in the cultures of people as well.

Perhaps the great fault of positivism is that we were left with the presupposition that our science and technology ought to be divorced from the cultures out of which they arose. But the pragmatist contemporaries of the positivists offer us a needed correction to this notion - praxis itself as an evaluative standard. All technologies have a use value that is formed by the cultures out of which they arose and in which they come into contact. An example of this comes from the movie The Gods Must be Crazy (1981). The beginning of the movie illustrates a sharp contrast between the bustling modern city and the simpler village life of an African bush tribe. When a plane flies over this village the intercourse of modern civilization and tribal life occurs when a Coke bottle mysteriously falls from the sky and lands at the feet of the tribe. They use this new tool that was given to them by the gods for such things as crushing grain or making music. But when this object with so many uses is used as a weapon and creates selfishness and disorder within the once peaceful tribe it is called "the evil thing" from whence the gods must have been crazy to give the tribe such an evil thing.

Different praises and stigmas, uses and values, are attached to technologies by the cultures in which they are embedded. For the pilot, it was a technology that kept his beverage fresh, for the tribe it was a technology that was far more nuanced in its uses and was also "evil" in its reciprocal effect on their tribal life.

For an example of the same reciprocal interaction between culture and technology from a more universal experience let us briefly look at language. In its most raw definition, language is a tool used by people in order to communicate ideas, thoughts, feelings, etc. It is an extension of our selves into the world - a means to make our thoughts object. To be sure, each culture has its own language, dialect, accent, etc. that is intimately attached to its culture, perhaps revealed no more explicitly than in the numerous African tribes or Chinese dialects that attach themselves to different forms of food, music, art, etc. Communication between different languages requires the act of translation. It is the action of isomorphism - finding like terms for an existing body of terms. However, the nuanced meanings of given terms in one language may not have the same nuances in the other making translation difficult. The word "love" in Greek has four words with four related but contrasting meanings for which English has only one word available. Thus, to understand the meaning of love to an ancient Greek expressed in English it is necessary to look at how the people of the day conceived love - a conception that we can see most definitively expressed in the culture itself through the expressions of friendship, eroticism, charity, and brotherhood. Language is expressive, therefore, of the cultures in which it resides.

There is also a simple reciprocity in the use of language as a technology, in this sense, in which it shapes the culture and rationality to which it gives expression. This shaping power of technology is a key notion we will discuss later.

If we look at these two examples there is a common thread - the technology appropriated by the culture gives expression of that culture and, in the case of the Coke bottle, the technology may even be used for purposes other than its original intent that give expression to the culture in which it is embedded. Thus the relationship between technology and culture is as follows: technology is an outward sign of inward realities within culture. It is in this way that we are calling technology the sacrament of civilization.

This is not to say that technology forms a new religion of culture. But it does open up the possibility that it may in fact be oriented toward religious patterns of behavior among societies and individuals. Neil Postman explores this possibility in his book Technopoly.[i] Postman makes a careful distinction between tool-using cultures, technocracies, and technopolies. In the tool-using culture technologies were invented and used based on specific needs of that culture or in service of the symbolic world of religion, politics, etc. "Tradition, religion, politics, social, and education all ‘directed’ the invention of tools and limited the uses to which they were put."[ii] Thus, "tools are not intruders (to culture). They are integrated into the culture in ways that do not pose significant contradiction to its world-view."[iii] This view, of no immediate surprise, is quite similar to Lewis Mumford’s eotechnic phase. But what Mumford argues is that the increase of mechanization decreases the cultural foundations from which such mechanization arose. Thus, mechanization slowly comes to be the "substitute religion" for society where "the necessity of invention was a dogma, and the ritual of a mechanical routine was the binding element in the faith."[iv]

Postman notes this same progression with the next two phases. In the technocracy, the relationship between culture and technology is loosened, but the culture is still a major influence in technological development. What happens during this phase, however, is the reversal of the foundations of culture to the degree that technology itself takes the place of the very foundations that gave rise to it. That is, the technology moves from being the subordinate to the predominate in social and cultural formation. But even here the technology and its culture still have a vital and dynamic, albeit inverted, relationship. "Technocracy did not entirely destroy the traditions of the social and symbolic worlds. Technocracy subordinated these worlds – yes, even humiliated them – but it did not render them totally ineffectual."[v]

With the coming of the technopoly, however, the now subordinate culture and tradition vanishes and its influence on technology disappears. C.S. Lewis offers us a vivid image of this development in his novel That Hideous Strength. There he portrays modernity and the technological prowess of modernity as a spider swallowing up its prey – culture, tradition, and humanity itself. The technology becomes not just the tools used by culture, but the ground of culture itself which is, philosophically, groundless. It is here where Postman hearkens back to Jaques Ellul and further, to Karl Marx who envisioned a capitalism that moved reality to abstraction in the grip of society’s new goal and reason for being – efficiency as an end in itself. What this entails is that the object of technology becomes the subject and the subject becomes the object. That is to say, in a technopoly, one’s need for efficiency rather than social reform or greater philosophical or religious inquiry becomes the means and end, the subject and object, of society and culture. Doing things faster with less energy becomes the sole purpose for doing things faster and with less energy. As we will see later, a result of this abstraction of technology from any cultural foundations is what cultural philosopher Jean Baudrillard has called Implosion! whereby the system purely sustains itself by itself and for itself as the groundless ground that veils authenticity, thinking, and reflection upon deeper reasons for being and acting in the world.

However, we must also notice the obvious Luddite[1] bent in these positions that places technology at the center and at the periphery of society filling it at all points in between with itself. This certainly applies with figures such as Ellul and Mumford but to a lesser degree with Postman who takes a more moderate yet no less critical position. He rather positions himself somewhere in the middle of the technophile who "gaze(s) on technology as a lover does on his beloved, seeing it as without blemish and entertaining no apprehension for the future," and the technophobe who is "inclined to speak of only burdens…and (is) silent about the opportunities that new technologies make possible."[vi] Thus Postman takes a middle way between the technophile and the technophobe in order to critically engage the introduction of new technologies into culture as each new technology has a profound shaping force on our conceptions of the real, truth, and rationality. And when we can see how it is that technology has shaped our culture, we can also see what technology as a shaping force reveals about our culture. This notion of the shaping force of technology, however, comes from the other side of the spectrum in the theory of Marshall McLuhan to whom we will turn. And it is through McLuhan and Martin Heidegger that we will finally understand how it is that technology reveals and gives sustenance to the inner dynamism of culture just as the holy sacraments in the church shape one’s faith as outward signs of internal realities.

The Invisible Shaping

Technology seems to have a revelatory power to it. What it reveals is the internal motion and epistemic rationality within the culture from which it springs. How it reveals is thus intimately tied to and inseparable from what it reveals. Both the content and the process arise from the culture itself and reveal what is implicit in the culture through the technologies that come out of that culture. This is not to say that the only or even the primary revelatory force is technology. It is to say that the technologies we create and implement are embedded in the cultures in which we move and have our being, and that our technologies can offer us a clue to both the positive and destructive forces at play within our cultures themselves.

To the casual observer, a juxtaposition of Martin Heidegger, an existential philosopher, and Marshall McLuhan, a media theorist, may seem a bit odd. Often it is concluded that Heidegger was anti-technology, viewing the processes of mechanization and automation as the destruction of our sense of who we are and what reality is. On the other side of the coin many will view McLuhan as a pure technophile, almost placing religious value on technological achievement - especially with the rise of electronic communication in the fifties and sixties prompting his now overstated phrase "the global village." I am arguing that both of these readings are fundamentally misguided. Both Heidegger and McLuhan offer critical analyses of technology that take into account its very nature and how its use shapes our relationships and society. While it may very well be true that Heidegger sounds as if he is arguing for a pre-modern, pre-mechanized society, perhaps leaning toward a Luddite perspective, and while it also may appear that McLuhan is arguing for the continued evolution of technology that will enhance society, perhaps smacking of a full-blown techophilism, both theorists come together on the primary assertion that they make - technology has a profound and invisible shaping force on our epistemic values, perceptions of reality and truth, and cultural values and norms. But it is this very invisible shaping force of technology that is revelatory and so, is in need of our critical engagement.

Heidegger’s Veil of Being

Heidegger’s philosophical work is intentionally difficult to read. The form of his writing can never be separated from its intent - to show how language, perception, and our values have distorted the reality of Being. "Being" is both Heidegger’s central concept in his metaphysical quest for the essences or grounds of things and it is also his most difficult concept to understand. Being is simply what is in its unmediated form. It is the reality of what is real. It is not substance or essence as the Greeks would have it up through the rebirth of Aristotelian essentialism in the middle ages. Being is what is or what is present. It is so difficult to speak of, because what Being is lost in the saying and further distorted in the said. Nothing, especially language, can contain it or fully comprehend it even though it is what everything is.[2] The goal of life is then to relate to Being in an unfettered way - a difficult thing to do, to say the least, since all of our epistemic capabilities distort what Being is upon reflection. Thus, following Husserl, Heidegger argues that our relationship to Being must come in an intuitive "flashing" or revelation. "…(I)nsight [Einblick] as in-flashing [Einblitz] is the disclosing coming-to-pass of the constellation of the turning within the coming to presence of Being itself…"[vii] It is like looking at an object in the dark. If you focus your eyes on it too long it seems to disappear. In order to see it, you must pass your eyes over it quickly and it always seems to appear as if the darkness itself revealed it out from under a shadowy cloak. But its image is elusive and vague even though you know it’s there and even if you know what it is. When Heidegger sets out on his task of understanding technology, the heart of his concern is the relationship between technology and Being. Hence, he is after an understanding of the essence of technology rather than the more phenomenal (and more common) instrumental understanding of technology.

"The essence of Enframing is that setting-upon gathered into itself which entraps the truth of its own coming to presence with oblivion."[viii] With this statement, Heidegger encapsulates how he conceptualizes the essence of technology. The essence of technology is found in his key term "Enframing."

To better understand what this term means, let us look at his essay on science, "The Age of the World as Picture." In this essay Heidegger offers us a philosophy of science that links developments in modern research and disciplinary specialization with the modern epistemic need to posit an "object-sphere" - a self-contained system.[ix] He understands a scientific system as organizing reality through research, methodology, and investigation in terms of a specific mode of rationality in which the defining of fact is verified in terms of domain-specific rules and laws.

Experiment begins with the laying down of a law as a basis. To set up an experiment means to represent or conceive [vorstellen] the conditions under which a specific series of motions can be made susceptible of being followed in its necessary progression, i.e., of being controlled in advance by calculation. But the establishing of a law is accomplished with reference to the ground plan of the object-sphere. That ground plan furnishes a criterion and constrains the anticipatory representing of the conditions.[x]

Here he comes close to Rouse’s notion of research program and Kuhn’s notion of paradigm.[xi] The shaping rationality in modern science is the establishing of a ground plan of investigation. But what does it mean to have so many different ground plans such as mathematics, chemistry, biology, experimental psychology, all of which operate with rather different ground plans and methodologies? Are the bases within these scientific disciplines arbitrary? No. The bases of any scientific endeavour "are developed out of the ground plan of nature and are sketched into it."[xii] What is needed then, is a more exact ground-plan, in terms of its relationship to nature, from which to investigate a given science’s object-sphere in order that the experimentation within that science may be more exact. Arising from this need for increased exactitude and precision is the modern characteristic of disciplinary fragmentation in terms of specialization and privatization to regulate and make more exact the ground of investigation and to attenuate the object sphere of that ground. This specializing activity is "the foundation of the progress of all research" and as such is an ongoing activity. In this way the representing of the object-sphere is more exact. But why does science require this exact representation?

To answer this question, Heidegger seeks to "apprehend (science) in its metaphysical ground." Research as the essence of science relies on prediction of future events and verification of the truth of past events.

Nature, in being calculated in advance, and history, in being historiographically verified as past, become, as it were, "set in place" [gestellt]. Nature and history become the objects of a representing that explains…Only that which becomes object in this way is - is considered to be in being. We first arrive at science as research when the Being of whatever is, is sought in such objectiveness.[xiii]

This propensity, nay, necessity to "objectiveness" is located initially in Descartes’ anxiety to discover necessary and certain grounds for knowledge and being itself. And through Descartes’ project, the representation of nature becomes subsumed under the primacy of subjectivity grounding all manner of Being in the being of the human subject. Henceforth, nature and the world are a picture in which whatever is, is set up as a fixed system, an object "that is set up by man, who represents and sets forth." And science is a perfect expression of this need to set what is in front of oneself as picture - as an object at the whim of human subjectivity.

Along this vein, Heidegger uses the term "Enframing" to describe the essence of technology in his essays "The Question Concerning Technology" and "The Turning." Heidegger is not out to describe technological invention or advances; he is rather concerned with the essence of technology, or the manner in which it exists through time. It is not something that is neutral - that it is simply understood relative to its use-value as a human activity or a means to an end. Holding these two perspectives in tension, he describes technology in light of causa materialis, causa formalis, causa finalis, and causa efficiens. Taken together these four ways of conceiving instrumentality or causality "let what is not yet present arrive into presencing."[xiv] Thus there is a revelatory attribute of technology which he conceives as a "bringing-forth" in the sense of production or generation.

The difficulty with this bringing-forth in technology is that it is a way of bringing-forth that is quite analogous to the way modern research works in terms of objectification of the world as picture. Being is thus only revealed as that which is yet concealed or veiled behind the given ground plan. There thus seems to be an implosive quality in technology in which Being can only be revealed as that which cannot be revealed due to the constraints set up by technology as the means to reveal Being. But Heidegger does not simply stop here.

Technology must reveal Being because at its root it is a process of bringing-forth into presence something that was not present, or presencing. However, "the revealing that rules in modern technology is a challenging [Herausfordern], which puts to nature the unreasonable demand that it supply energy that can be extracted and stored as such."[xv] Any revealing activity in modern technology is seen as a challenging or provoking of nature into action. In short it is a means to control nature to be at the whim of humankind. In this way the things of nature are ordered such that they are at the ready for more orders and more constricted control - the things of nature at the hands of modern technology become the "standing-reserve." This is precisely the outcome of his investigation into the essence of modern scientific research wherein its "representing pursues and entraps nature as a calculable coherence of forces" - or nature as a system artificially challenged forth by the image of the world as picture and the picture as world. And it is this Enframing as the essence of technology that also "demands that nature be orderable as standing-reserve." In this way technology "must employ the exact physical sciences."[xvi] The concomitant danger associated with this ordering into standing-reserve by technology is the compulsion in humanity to order – a compulsion that makes humanity, in a sense, a standing-reserve at the whim of Enframing. Here the concept is truly radical. Enframing is not something that we do or create; it is something that has us. "…(T)echnology enters the inmost recesses of human existence, transforming the way we know and think and will. Technology is, in essence, a mode of human existence…"[xvii] "It remains true, nonetheless, that man in the technological age is, in a particularly striking way, challenged forth into revealing" to the degree that such revealing "reveals the real as standing-reserve."[xviii]

The hope, for Heidegger, lies in the belief that Being is still accessible through technology even though it is veiled and concealed by technology itself. There is more to revealing than concealing. There still is the possibility that Being as concealed by being revealed as standing-reserve can still be revealed as it is. And this happens by way of insight that can cut through the concealing medium of technology. Thus, there is a good that lies in the very heart of technology that we ought to uncover by relating to its essence which is Enframing.

The difficulty with this is that Enframing is something that we cannot sense and it goes unnoticed by virtue that we too are held in its grasp being beckoned to its use. It is invisible. Heidegger is concerned with the ability to live an authentic life and be authentic in the world and sees an improper relationship to technology not technology itself as detrimental to that goal. By relating to the essence of what technology really is and what it really does, he thinks that we will be able to be authentic in a technological age. Technology can then serve the goal of being authentic if it is understood in terms of its essence. Thus, we cannot call him a Luddite, but a critic who wants to look at technology from a different perspective somehow outside of Enframing that is possible by a critical engagement.

An explicit connection he makes is between modern science and technology and how they are embedded in and revelatory of the epistemic values and processes within modernity itself. But they are revelatory only if we relate to them in the right way, namely, by relating to their essences - to what they are as they are. This is how we find what is true about modernity and, as we shall see postmodernity.

Marshall McLuhan’s Narcissistic Fish

"I call this peculiar form of self-hypnosis Narcissus narcosis, a syndrome whereby man remains as unaware of the psychic and social effects of his new technology as a fish of the water it swims in. As a result, precisely at the point where a new media-induced environment becomes all pervasive and transmogrifies our sensory balance, it also becomes invisible."[xix]

Precisely the point of contact between Heidegger and McLuhan is, above all else, the notion that the technology we use acts as that which sets the conditions for our rationalities, communities, and sense of self.[xx] For McLuhan, there is no explicit concern with grand metaphysical schemes related to an authentic ontology. Rather, his concern touches upon a more practical realm of questioning – the very numbness of humanity to the technologies we create and use. This numbness is not about the ways we implement technology or media. Nor is it about the content of media. Rather, this numbness is about the very media themselves. In the same way a fish is unaware that it is in water, "the ‘content’ of writing or print is speech, but the reader is almost entirely unaware either of print or of speech."[xxi] His point here is that our environments are invisible to us unless we step outside of them, and following, that our technologies have a very salient shaping force on what our environments are. What is at stake here is that society, culture, and the self are all shaped by the technology that shapes the environment, but that this shaping goes on continually at an invisible level. This is precisely what Heidegger was expressing with the notion of Enframing, and it is the key to understanding McLuhan as well.

McLuhan was terribly concerned about humanity’s tendency to blindly adopt technological tools and advances where the only critical engagement addressed how the people were using the technology. He felt that it was his job to "wake up" people out of this slumber that they may step back and look at the ways new technologies were shaping the environment. It was this task that just preceded scholars such as Postman and was profoundly similar to his contemporaries such as Heidegger.

Our conventional response to all media, namely that it is how they are used that counts, is the numb stance of the technological idiot. For the "content" of a medium is like the juicy piece of meat carried by the burglar to distract the watchdog of the mind.[xxii]

The effects of technology, with this view, are cloaked in subtle epistemic shifts that happen with each new technology introduced into society. In California, there occur literally thousands of earthquakes per year, but the vast majority of them go unnoticed. Even though the earth has fundamentally changed under your feet, you are unaware of it, that is, until your house collapses or needs to be regraded. The architectural technology used in California to construct houses and buildings is regulated by different inspection laws than, say, Florida where homes need to meet hurricane-proof specifications. Likewise, until there are grand and noticeable ruptures within our society, we do not notice the changes that happen in our environments. This is what McLuhan calls a "break boundary" following Kenneth Boulding.[xxiii] McLuhan boiled these concepts down to one clear yet too often misunderstood phrase "the medium is the message." The problem with our culture is that we are too busy looking at the surface of the water like poor Narcissus and we ignore the depth that lies below. We can draw further analogies to this media philosophy with Plato’s allegory of the cave or even the radical phenomenalism of Jean Baudrillard (who we will visit below.) But the point remains the same – we have to critically engage our technology to see how it shapes our culture, our values, and our episteme, in short, our rationality.

Many have considered McLuhan to be a "media determinist" and, for that matter we can probably place Heidegger in the same category. For McLuhan the process of modern automation and mechanization began with the introduction of the Gutenberg printing press where text and ideas became open to commodification and fragmentation. McLuhan locates the root of Cartesian certainty, the notion of clear and distinct ideas in an intelligible and perfectly coherent system of logic and reason (arguably the genesis of the modern ideal of rationality), in the invention of movable print. "The line, the continuum became the organizing principle of life. ‘As we begin, so shall we go.’ ‘Rationality’ and logic came to depend on the presentation of connected and sequential facts or concepts."[xxiv] This further lead to modern specialization, fragmentation, and particularization that Heidegger saw as a powerful force within the same cultural milieu. Technological media, beginning with print, was the driving force behind virtually all things modern from high modernism located in formalism, new criticism, and differentiation, and in even the avant-garde;[xxv] to the rigid structure of Newtonian mechanics and Fordist supply-side capitalism.[xxvi] Here McLuhan is right in line with the antagonistic view of modernization for both Heidegger and Mumford. McLuhan, although he would deny the charge without offering an alternative view,[3] sees cultural and social formation as determined by media technology. This is made even clearer in his distinction between "cool" and "hot" media as we shall see.

With electronic media McLuhan argues a fundamental shift in culture that moves from differentiation to integration. The automobile, the airplane, and the train all serve to implode space by conquering it through speed and time.[xxvii] The telephone, the transistor, the wireless, the television, all implode distance and "cool down" the media of mechanized production. Cause and effect are replaced with instantaneity and linear progression is imploded into simultaneity. A "hot medium" is one that has high definition and low participation as in a lecture. When the hot media of modernity are the primary shaping force in our culture we become more uniform and mechanized with low participation – or in Heidegger’s terms the "standing-reserve." On the other hand, a "cool medium" has low definition and high participation such as a telephone conversation requires the interlocutor to "fill in the gaps" herself by adding to the conversation. McLuhan saw a hot culture cooling down by the unified field theories of physics that have their practical application in electromagnetic communications. Hence the differentiation of fragmented society and selves becomes integrated into what he calls, in another oft misused and misunderstood phrase, "the global village."

Electric circuitry profoundly involves men with one another. Information pours upon us, instantaneously and continuously. As soon as information is acquired, it is very rapidly replaced by still newer information…Instant communication insures that all factors of the environment and of experience co-exist in a state of active interplay…The new electronic interdependence recreates the world in the image of a global village.[xxviii]

The tacit level at work within McLuhan’s thought at this juncture is the influence of Teilhard de Chardin who envisioned a grand spiritual evolution of humankind into a rather vague concept of the Omega point, where ultimate unity is achieved. More exactly, de Chardin envisioned a great noosphere where everyone on earth would be connected through electronic communication that he likened to a grand global mind. We may reasonably say that the global village is, for McLuhan, a positive force in culture that moves us out of modern fragmentation.

Of course, this whole process is driven by electronic technology. For Heidegger the capacity of technology to reveal Being is a very similar positive aspect of technology. Thus, both have in their criticisms a negative view of modernity, with at least a positive view of the possibilities inherent for the future through the way that technology can shape that future. However, neither prognosticates in the sense of many contemporary media philosophers who follow Alvin Toffler in the "futurist" genre of analysis.[xxix]

To conclude, both Heidegger and McLuhan share the feeling that technology is at least the primary if not the shaping force in culture. This shaping goes on at a level that is invisible to us and we must exit our caves, as it were, to realize that what we see in our technology as a mere means is shadows on a cave wall one step removed from the invisible reality that exists outside the cave. If this is the case, even if we do not conclude that technology determines but only conditions culture, we must take seriously the claims and the shaping force it has on our rationality itself. Are we indeed moving into a global village by the "cooling down" of our technological media? Is humanity becoming more unified through its technology? Through this, is Being being revealed to us? To these questions we must now turn.

The Ambiguous Postmodern Rift

On one level technology has unified us, and on another it has pushed us further apart. Many who have read McLuhan have anachronistically applied our present media capabilities through the World Wide Web, satellites, and fiber optics to his theory of the global village in a quite literal and perhaps artificial manner. This globalizing that ensues in electronic technology is seen to have been perhaps the chief factor of the process of globalization, and Marshall McLuhan is perhaps the new ubiquitous spokesperson for the theory. But if we read our culture through these theories with a myopic view to the global village master image of globalization, we also misapprehend the critical view that McLuhan proffered and we also ignore his wake up call to the masses that are numbed by their very globalizing technology. If we are looking at technology from the view that McLuhan wished we would, and we are, then globalization by itself is simply an inadequate way of apprehending cultural change. Globalization, taken in its rawest form, simply will not suffice to answer the deeper level in the murky waters that we are after. But when we place the concept of globalization in a broader context, we are then able to view it as a part of a wider phenomenon that is epistemically and culturally shaping us in which we may find the depth of the changing around us – this wider phenomenon is postmodernism.

Why locate globalization within postmodernism? This question can be answered if we look at the rationalities of both through present technologies. That the economy is now global is, or should be, seen as a global, trans-national phenomenon is of no doubt. No market in trading of stocks is isolated from the others. This was clearly the case with the Russia and East-Asian market collapses in 1998 and the more recent corrections in the U.S. markets that have in turn affected the trading behavior in other markets world-wide. Trading is now done at night by investors who can see their stocks fluctuate in over-seas markets via World Wide Web connections. Companies are global if they are successful with production, management, intelligence, packaging, parts manufacture, and assembly all done in varying parts of the globe under the auspices of one company that is often a conglomerate of several corporations. This global economy is felt with the various products bought and sold on a regular basis and especially with investments.

This globalized economy simply could not have arisen to its present state if it had not been for the electronic technologies that make it possible – technologies that have erupted since the late seventies. In the seventies we moved from analog and transistor information generation to silicon chips that have developed in capabilities at an exponential rate since then. The move into digital transmission has enabled us to increase speed, storage, and clarity over larger and larger distances with the information we wish to route. When we add electronic mail, hypertext, and faxing to the mix, and are able to send all of this through light-speed digital transmission, it is then possible to have a corporation in which a desk in Singapore can easily communicate with offices in Germany and Seattle simultaneously, thus instancing the collapse in distance – a collapse of which McLuhan saw the genesis in the sixties and seventies. It is thus perfectly reasonable for globalization theorists to place a great deal of emphasis on McLuhan for their theories. Information technology itself, being global and trans-national in nature, seems to engender such a global economy.

But if we move out of the global economy into the cultural influence, globalization theory suffers from the Narcissism McLuhan disdained. It is here where postmodern theory allows us dive in to see what lies at the bottom of the lake. What happens when we go deeper is that we see that globalization is part of a larger and broader concept of postmodernity – as an emergence from modernity into an as yet defined era in history in which a distinctive rationality of plurality and fallibilism sets in. We see this occurring in the flagship of postmodern technologies – the Internet.

Flexibility in "The Informational Space of Flows"

What makes the Internet such a novel technology is that not only its primary product, but its only product is pure information. This is not information solely in terms of text but through various images and sounds as well. The Internet is an abstraction to the world that we inhabit; yet it is also intimately tied to our world as a technology having a shaping force on the world. This abstract and virtual world is often called "cyberspace." The shape that the Internet gives to the world is perhaps still rather concealed, but as we have seen, its impact on the global economy is quite clear. The question is why it makes our economy global, what it does to our present perceptions, and how the sort of rationality that is intrinsic to the Internet can give us clues about the shaping of our rationality today.

The Internet was developed as a system to interconnect numerous locally networked computer systems enabling different networks to communicate with each other by means of the Domain Name System (DNS) wherein each computer has a specific address or Internet Protocol (IP). However, each network communicated information in different formats and so, translation was necessary from network to network. The World Wide Web was later developed as "a unified and simple means of utilizing all the resources of the Internet…broadly consisting of two parts: a means of organising resources and a means of looking at that organisation."[xxx] What has come out of this is the .com, .org, .edu, etc. address system that is a far more universal and centralized way of locating different computers and systems. The centralization of the Internet by way of the World Wide Web makes the entire, vast system global and trans-national with millions of centers of activity all over the world. It enables anyone to have access to the Internet and also enables anyone to publish information worldwide almost instantaneously.

The entire construction of the Internet and the World Wide Web is from the want to send information across vast distances and create access to information that is less centralized in terms of access yet efficient at the same time. Thus this technological achievement was built on information for the purpose of information and its product is information itself. Ostensibly, many have seen the Web as a source for creating a more egalitarian space that is more free, universal, unlimited in resources, and unhindered by spatial constraints. However, the information itself lends us to a significant shift in power structures where those who have power in cyberspace are those who are most able to control the information flow itself. Bill Gates still has the ultimate goal of living in a world where each household has at least one personal computer that is connected to the Web and thus, to everyone else in the world. The implicit suggestion in this goal is that all of these computers will be operating with a Microsoft Windows operating system. Thus, the development of what products we are able to purchase and use to control the amount of information we access and digest is ultimately controlled by sources outside our household. However, there is another level of technopower in the hands of "hackers" - those who have a high level of expertise in computer technology and are able to infiltrate and usurp control of cyberspace at will (precisely what has happened recently when Yahoo! was suspended for over three hours due to a hacker "prank.") "Where hackers have the power to manipulate whatever exists in cyberspace, Gates and those like him have the power to wrench the fabric of cyberspace in new directions."[xxxi] Power then lends itself over to those who have the greatest access, the most expertise, and the strongest knowledge of the software and networked environment.[4] Power will always move in this direction of the "technopower elite" and so, control over the Web remains largely in these hands.

What exactly is it that the technopower elite are controlling? "Cyberspace provides to offline life a unique space of information flow. Not only does cyberspace create its own particular forms of life, but it contributes an extraordinary form of space that is indispensable to the new form of global socio-economy that looks likely to dominate the twenty-first century."[xxxii] In terms of the economy we have seen how this space is both global and always active. But what is also true about this space is that it is a web where every part is linked to every part and where there is no center that one can locate. Everything is linked by way of "hypertext" - "a dynamic referencing system in which all texts are interrelated. Hypertext is no less than electronic intertextuality, the text of all texts, a supertext."[xxxiii] From this view we may think that hypertext is simply a way of organizing our information like a large library where we can cite our sources instantaneously. Perhaps this is accurate, but it is only part of the picture. There is a way of organizing thought that occurs in hypertext that is quite different than when reading the quite linear, line by line, page by page, motion of the written word. In hypertext one can jump from place to place without the need to process thought in a linear fashion. Organizing thought happens by way of "a literacy that is prompted by jumps of intuition and association."[xxxiv] The informational space of flows within the grander matrix of cyberspace carries with it a more flexible way of thinking and so, a far more flexible rationality. "So each reader in effect becomes author, in part, of the text that comes into being as the text is hypertextually read across documents"[xxxv] where "the center (of the text) is not the center"[xxxvi] and "the signification of the saying goes beyond the said."[xxxvii] This way of thinking would probably give Descartes a heart-attack and perhaps makes Jacques Derrida grin a bit. And it is also the type of thinking that permeates the postmodern turn in literature and the arts. It is in this way that technology is an outward sign of inward realities within cultures. Hence, globalization theory by itself is correct in looking at developments in information technology as a source for the spread of globalization. However, its failing is that it does not recognize the postmodern rationality that such information technology signifies. What it signifies is the culture from which it has arisen and to which it gives sustenance.

There’s a Pessimist in Every Crowd

Although it seems quite clear that the informational space of flows in cyberspace determines the new global economy, it does not seem that it has the same determining effect on the culture from which it has emerged, hence, we are calling it an outward sign of that culture. This is to say that while Internet and Web technologies do not determine our culture, they are inseparably related to it and, to this degree, have a shaping force on culture – they condition rather than determine our culture. The very thought processes associated with hypertext have been active in our culture (specifically the Western world) since well before the emergence of the Web. We can go back as far as Kierkegaard to find these roots, but our focus is more well placed in Jean Baudrillard’s theories that argue for a heightened abstractness within culture pointing us to the negative side of an intertextual world view where meaning is paradoxically contained in and unbound by deferánce. He encapsulates this strange worldview with the term simulacra.

To fully understand what he means by this term it is helpful to understand something about the social context from which Baudrillard was coming. At the same time that the Vietnam era of protest was injecting heavy doses of confusion and violence across the United States, a neo-Marxist movement was rising from a socially active academy in France called the Situationists. Out of this milieu came prominent thinker Guy DeBord, among others, who was initially part of a French avant-garde artistic movement. The surge of disposable capital in post-World War II consumerism gave impetus for the debate over modern society. The movement emphasized forms of media and consumer society that DeBord called "the society of the spectacle" in which authenticity is absorbed into a world where "all that once was directly lived has become mere representation."[xxxviii] "In this society, individuals consume a world fabricated by others rather than producing one of their own."[xxxix] In a society where relationships are mediated by images alienation rises while authenticity is consumed by an increasingly passive society (or, a "hot" society in McLuhan’s terms). Thus reality is reduced to appearance as an end in itself. The mission of the Situationists was to find ways for people to express their authenticity by creating new "situations" through a critical hermeneutics "that sees through appearances, illusions, and fantasies to the realities being masked and covered over."[xl] The praxis of this mission was to reverse the abstractness of spectacular life by détournement - "the fluid language of anti-ideology (that) occurs within a type of communication aware of its inability to enshrine any inherent and definitive certainty."[xli] It is a way of deconstructing situations established by passive consumption of images. And by deconstructing these situations through altering political slogans, defacing billboards, using graffiti, etc. the Situationists hoped to reveal the bourgeois control of image media and society as a whole. Thus with DeBord we see a reliance on Hegelian modernism through Marxist praxis.

Baudrillard came from this same setting and he seems to share the view that society has become spectaclized as the proliferation of the image as the ends and means of production increases abstraction. However, he does this while dumping references to Marx in a conscious and overt postmodern theory that tries to divorce itself completely from modernism. His theory ups the ante of abstraction to a heightened level that in the end looks quite bizarre and counter-intuitive. There is no longer any mission to find authenticity and truth that is veiled by the image. Rather it is the image that exists on its own. There is no more reality at stake. We have completely and utterly lost any concept of what the real is, and the drive to seek the real can only find itself satiated by images that cannot really satiate at all. He gives the impression that society has become so abstract that even events and activities that we take as quite "normal" are simply another form of the illusory nature of our culture. Thus there is an extreme negation in society that can never find redemption because there is nothing available to redeem it - all of our possible resources are illusions or abstract simulations so removed from what they once simulated that the object of simulation has been utterly destroyed.

Whereas representation attempts to absorb simulation by interpreting it as false representation, simulation envelops the whole edifice of representation itself as a simulacrum.

Such would be the successive phases of the image:

it is the reflection of a profound reality;

it masks and denatures a profound reality;

it masks the absence of a profound reality;

it has no relation to any reality whatsoever: it is its own pure simulacrum.[xlii]

In contrast to DeBord, we see no hint at social action or reform. Such acts are pointless in a world of simulation. If we feel compelled to reform our society, we need to know what to reform. But if we ask "What shall we reform?" the only answer available via Baudrillard is nothing. Even the question is absurd because we have lost any concept of reform itself - even the concept is an illusion. For Baudrillard we live in a world of societies that have been duped by a grand illusion and sadly live within it, but will never realize it. Even realizing the illusory denatured nature of society is itself an illusion. Thus, even the notion of an invisible, shaping environment is taken to a heightened level of abstraction that pushes us to a rather hopeless and nihilistic world-view. The search for Being for Heidegger, is hopeless because Being is not there any more. Or, returning to another allegory, all that remains is shadows for all that remains is the cave – there is no longer anything outside that is really real.

To a degree, cyberspace takes on this relationship to the real. Cyberspace is not a space that closely resembles the spaces in which we inhabit daily with our bodies. In cyberspace you rarely are aware of whom you are sending information to and from. Identity is cloaked behind a veil called an avatar or on-line identity. While you may think that you are sending messages to and receiving them from a twenty-year-old lingerie model it may actually be an elderly woman in curlers (as parodied in a recent commercial). Or, on a more serious note, it could actually be a pedophilic voyeur looking for a partner to fulfill his sexual fantasies. But there is a reciprocal effect that the avatar has on human identity itself.

There were times when the cacophony of selves in cyberspace frustrated me so much that I attempted to end my virtual life, literally. The drama of my identity in cyberspace brought me great anxiety about my "real" identity. On three different occasions, I sent my acquaintances, friends, and virtual communities what a friend later called "virtual suicide notes." I wrote the first after only six months on-line, and I wrote the last after about three years on-line…I could no longer maintain such an aggregation of personae. I wanted to stop and separate myself from this society of identities that all reflected me and yet did not represent me. I had let my self (selves) become too diffused throughout cyberspace. The person I thought of as Tom Beaudoin dissolved into a wide-ranging constellation of personalities that different on-line communities knew only as TBEAUDOIN. If asked, they would all have described TBEAUDOIN differently.[xliii]

The above experience is an example of identity fluidity in which there is an "elastic connection" between online and offline identities, between avatars and physical identity. "Avatars can develop to the point where the connections between identities is so stretched, so tenuous, that the ‘ping’ of broken elastic can be heard in cyberspace, but the connection can be surprisingly strong, with collective refusals to think of avatars as distinct identities."[xliv] In the case of Beaudoin, such a snap in the elastic fibers connecting his offline and offline identities can be seen in his "virtual suicide notes." There are many issues regarding identity formation and psychosocial development that are well worth exploring but are not needed here.

What is most salient for the present argument is that here we see the tension that exists in the relationship between the virtual and the real. With the World Wide Web one can copy images and text from an infinite amount of contexts and then place them in any other context. There is no limit regarding what images can be used with what text and what hyperlinks can link to what. Thus signs can be removed from their original referents and take on new and often contradictory meanings. One can place a cross on a page about fishing that links to a page about gardening that links to a page selling comic books and ad infinitum. Moreover, in the abstract geography of cyberspace, reality is completely composed out of pure information where the information load increases by thousands upon thousands of new words, images, sounds, and video daily. Even if Baudrillard’s theory of the simulacra seems to be a bit on the cynical side for our biological life, it seems to be an apt description of the realities that live in cyberspace.

Cyberspace takes the postmodern notions of plurality, deconstruction, intertextuality, web, paradox, contradiction, and simulation and brings them to a material form that we can interact with and use as a tool. In this way it is a perfect fit with a postmodern world that has been seeking ways to incorporate these notions into our rationality and society for years (e.g. the Situationists and poststructuralism). Baudrillard’s philosophy of culture adds a significant lens that magnifies the processes that go on within cyberspace despite that this philosophy has root twenties years before World Wide Web, Internet, and ".com" were widely available signs in our culture. What is so startling, perhaps overwhelming, about the way that signs and information are brought to us over the Internet and the Web is the sheer volume of them – each demanding our undivided attention. This heightened pluralism that takes shape in the Internet is a perfect fit for a postmodern culture that celebrates pluralism and web metaphors for rationality.

On the economic side, fading are the days of the assembly line and the tenured employee waiting for retirement pension. Those who are able to control information as it flows and use it as a commodity for personal profit are replacing this work force. The knowledge engineer is the new line worker, the university is the new factory, and information is the new product that is becoming more and more abstracted from its material referent. The "new economy" spurred on by the new technology is still in a period of transition just as our society is groaning though a movement away from modernity and modern rationality into postmodernity and a postmodern rationality signified by its offspring technology that will continue to give it shape.

Thus the emerging information technologies, of which the Internet and World Wide Web are key, arise from the emerging postmodern rationality of culture and shape that culture. Since they arise from culture they do not determine it, but condition it in a powerful and rather explicit way. The continued implementation of these technologies will give continued sustenance to the postmodern rationality in culture. Only with a simultaneous view to postmodern culture and the technology arising from it can we form a philosophy of technology that goes below the surface to explore the depths of the events that are surrounding us daily.

Technology and Theology

If we are in an age where plurality and information through technology shape our rationality, how is it possible for the church to have a voice that can be heard? The very mediums we use to communicate the voice of the church will more and more resemble the plurality and juxtaposition of an overload of information. Indeed the incredible shaping force of technologies such as the Internet and television have been widely documented and explored already. But the emergence of new developments in technology is increasing and will continue to increase at an exponential rate.[5] Will Christ be relegated to one piece of information among others? How can we say that God really exists in a world where simulation is taking the place of reality? In the tension between simulation and reality, how will we define reality in the future? If we follow the example set before us by McLuhan and Heidegger we can learn approaches to these issues. It is a matter of 1) coming into a proper relationship to our technologies, and 2) understanding how our media have a powerful shaping force on our communities, our cultures, our societies, and our selves. What it also means is that the media we use to understand God will shape our very understanding of God.

For the modern era the book is the shaping technology on our conceptions of God. But when the book enters into the electronic world of cyberspace our conceptions of God and our ways of apprehending Scripture as a revelatory text will change. The book is a perfect sign for a modern world of fixed and linear rationality. But when that book becomes hypertextualized in a non-foundational cyberspace this primary means of Christian revelation changes into a web-like construction that we cannot fixate. It moves into a world where interactivity and plurality push in through the membrane of the book deconstructing it to a series of linked texts. Such an action taken on Scripture is not intentional – it is invisible, and how it is shaping our theological rationality is also invisible. But realizing that these shifts happen as we engage theology through technology is an important first step that we have not yet made.

If we look at the history of Christianity, the early church was also faced with a vast amount of plural voices as well – the various cults of the barbarians, local deities, and mystery religions. Christianity, in this sense, was born within a culture loaded with plural voices. And in the midst of such plurality, Christianity took shape in the form of small congregations of people in covert locations and houses throughout the kingdom. What is so qualitatively different with our situation today is that plurality is instantaneous and the amount of information that bombards us dwarfs the situation of our antiquarian progenitors.

The rationality in our present technology is different from the type of relativism we find in non-foundationalism and it is certainly not foundationalism. While cyberspace signifies the sort of rationality we find in postmodernity, it also contains its own unique rationality that can absorb any other rationality into itself with the outcome of a radical change in that rationality. For example, there are hundreds of Christian pages devoted to the propagation of strict foundationalist doctrines such as rigid five-point Calvinism. What is so odd is that when we propagate foundationalist rhetoric in cyberspace, it takes on the inherently non-foundational and plural web-like characteristics of cyberspace itself. The shift in one’s rationality by virtue of accessing this information in cyberspace is occurring at a tacit and invisible level. Even if we are trying to communicate the most rigid foundationalist doctrines we can conceive, by virtue of communicating them with such conventions as hypertext and electronic text through web browsers and word processors, we are transforming the ways in which such foundationalist doctrines can be conceived. Thus rigid dogma is subsumed by an invisible technological environment and is shaped by that environment. Once we publish material on the Internet, it becomes subordinate to the structure of cyberspace itself. This means that it becomes subordinate to all of the salient issues regarding how technology shapes our rationality we have discussed above.

Paradoxically, cyberspace is also a mathematical structure that has defined limits. In this way even the very non-foundationalist rationality cyberspace creates has at its core a foundation located in the software and hardware that creates it. The non-foundational environment of cyberspace is created by foundational software packages that are run by foundational hardware technologies. This is where the idea of a technopower elite is crucial for thinking about theology in the terms that cyberspace is presenting to us. Theology - even in a completely non-foundational, web-like rationality signified and shaped by emerging technology - is ultimately constricted by the technological elite who are more able to control information flow in a way that meets their wants and desires, even when these wants and desires are for the purpose of bettering the rest of society and humanity. Thus, there are definite limits set up by the very structure of technology itself – limits controlled by those other than theologians and pastors. How will the church cope with the limited structures set up by the technopower elite if it chooses to use emerging information technology to communicate the Gospel?

This also brings up key issues in ecclesiology and worship. If we are to use the new communications technologies such as the Internet for the church and for theological reflection, how will our organizational structures and conceptions of how God is to be worshipped change? If we are to use the Internet to communicate the Gospel, how is God present to the listeners, readers, and viewers of the message? Is it possible to establish a church that exists in cyberspace? As the interaction between the virtual and the real increases, and as the boundary between both seems to attenuate, how will we understand what the body of Christ is? Does cyberspace transform Scripture into any other text that is accessible on the Internet? Does cyberspace become an icon that lifts us to God or an idol that pulls us away from God by its invisible epistemic ruptures in our rationalities? What are proper symbols for God in cyberspace? Are symbols for God even possible? These are all questions that we will have to ask more and more in the coming years if we are to avoid the blind numbness that McLuhan saw infiltrating the minds of a society intoxicated by its invention.

The effect of our information technology on theology is that the non-foundationalist and pluralistic world of cyberspace complicates our understandings of God and Christ in a reciprocal relation to a culture that has already given rise to these issues in a non-foundationalist rationality. Our technology will heighten the rationalities in our culture, and when it does this, it will shape them into new forms. For the first time in human history we are dealing with a conflict between the virtual and the real and both exist in a tandem interchange in cyberspace. This phenomenon is something that we have yet to find a reasoning strategy that fits. Thinkers like Postman, McLuhan, and Heidegger give us tools for forming a right relationship to our technologies that will critically engage the virtual that we may see how it shapes our rationality. But the present permutation of information technology is still so new and it produces so much information that we have simply not had enough time to think through these emerging issues. What is clear is that we ought not to be afraid to wait, slow down, and ponder what our technologies will do and how we will use them before we actually bring them into our environments. This is precisely what we have had to confront in the issues surrounding genetic engineering and cloning. But information technology works at such a tacit level and we are perhaps making so much money off of it at the moment that we are facing a growing danger in heightened levels of numbness due to our rapid and uncritical adoption of it.

[1] Luddite is a term with a vague origin that has come to be the label of those who are strictly opposed to technological development. It perhaps originated when a man by the name of Ludd supposedly led a revolt of textile workers in the late 19th century. The reason for the revolt, it is believed, is that the workers were feeling as if machines were dominating their craft and the human worker was taking a more and more unimportant role in manufacturing. Machines are thus seen to constrict rather than aid civilization by relegating the human spirit more and more to the background of the real shapers of society – our technological inventions.

[2] If this sounds strangely similar to Emanuel Levinas, one would not be making an incorrect comparison – Heidegger’s existential thought is a major source for many all so-called postmodern philosophers and theologians from Jaques Derrida and Levinas to George Steiner and Jean-Luc Marion. This applies to his advocates and his critics.

[3] He did not want to be labeled a media determinist because he never prognosticated what the future of media and society would look like. This sounds perhaps like a spin tactic to avoid the label. What we have seen from his theory thus far is that he clearly saw cultural movement not simply conditioned by technology, but determined by it. Even his student Paul Levinson would call him a media determinist in his dissertation (see Paul Levinson. Digital McLuhan: A Guide to the Information Millennium. (New York, NY Routledge, 1998).

[4] Admittedly this is a bit of a generalization, but it is qualified. There are certainly economic factors that we also ought to take into account among them, the realization that computers are the means to access to Internet (regardless whether they are portable or not) and computers cost a great deal of money, rendering power also to those who have capital to support access. But as Tim Jordan notes, "Many hackers do not use a powerful computer but have discarded or cheap machines. Many hackers are teenagers without the financial resources themselves, and often without parental resources, to buy up-to-date machines but who have the passion and commitment to learn extraordinary amounts about phone and computer systems" (Jordan 91).

[5] Gordon Moore, co-founder of Intel, hypothesized in 1965 that computing speed would increase such that it would double every two years. This "theory", aptly called "Moore’s Law", has since the proven to be strikingly accurate. (For more information on the growth of silicon based computing and its inherent limits see Technology Review. May/June 2000.)

 

References

[i] Neil Postman. Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology. (New York, NY: Vintage, 1992).

[ii] Ibid., 23.

[iii] Ibid., 25.

[iv] Lewis Mumford. Technics and Civilization. (San Diego, CA: Harcourt Brace, 1990), 53, 54.

[v] Ibid., Postman, 45.

[vi] Ibid., 5.

[vii] Martin Heidegger. The Question Concerning Technology, and Other Essays. (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1982), 46.

[viii] Ibid., 36.

[ix] Ibid., 119-120.

[x] Ibid., 121.

[xi] See J. Wentzel van Huyssteen. The Shaping of Rationality. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998).

[xii] Ibid., 121.

[xiii] Ibid., 127.

[xiv] Ibid., 10.

[xv] Ibid., 14.

[xvi] Ibid., 20-23.

[xvii] Michael Heim. The Metaphysics of Virtual Reality. (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1994), 61.

[xviii] Ibid., Heidegger, 23.

[xix] Marshall McLuhan. "The Playboy Interview – Part 2". http://www.mcluhanmedia.com/ m_mcl_inter_pb_02.html. (ONLINE, April 14, 2000).

[xx] Ibid., Heim, 54-72.

[xxi] Marshall McLuhan. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1964), 18.

[xxii] Ibid., 18.

[xxiii] Ibid., 38.

[xxiv] Marshall McLuhan. The Medium is the Massage: An Inventory of Effects. (1967), 44-45.

[xxv] Steven Best, and Douglas Kellner. The Postmodern Turn. (New York: Guilford Press, 1997), 126-129.

[xxvi] David Harvey. The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change. (Blackwell, NJ: Blackwell’s, 1990).

[xxvii] Ibid.

[xxviii] Ibid., McLuhan, 1967, 63,67

[xxix] See also Ray Kurzweil. The Spiritual Age of Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence. (New York, NY: Penguin, 2000).

[xxx] Tim Jordan. Cyberpower: The Culture and Politics of Cyberspace and the Internet. (New York, NY: Routledge, 1999), 43

[xxxi] Ibid., 143.

[xxxii] Ibid., 165.

[xxxiii] Ibid., Heim, 30.

[xxxiv] Ibid.

[xxxv] Paul Levinson. The Soft Edge: A Natural History and Future of the Information Revolution. (New York, NY: Routledge, 1997), 146.

[xxxvi] Jaques Derrida. Writing and Difference. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978), 279.

[xxxvii] Emanuel Levinas. Otherwise than Being: or Beyond Essence. (Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press, 1998), 37.

[xxxviii] Guy Debord. The Society of the Spectacle. (Zone, 1998), §1.

[xxxix] Ibid., Best & Kellner, 82.

[xl] Ibid., 91.

[xli] Ibid, Debord, §208.

[xlii] Jean Baudrillard. Simulacra and Simulation. (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1995), 6.

[xliii] Tom Beaudoin. Virtual Faith: The Irreverent Spiritual Quest of Generation X. (Jossey Bass, 1998), 135-136.

[xliv] Ibid., Jordan, 75.

All content ©2000 Andrew Tatusko

The Living Word: Dance as a Language of Faith

A well-intentioned minister once asked if I would interpret a passage of Scripture in the form of dance for Sunday morning worship. He was searching for a way to "liven up" his sometimes "austere and predictable" worship services. He suggested that I invite some of the children to participate, for the members of his congregation enjoyed seeing the children active in worship. He did caution that their bodies should not show "too much leg or breast." Although he himself appreciated the beauty of the human body, he explained, his congregation might not be so understanding.

While I was gratified by his request and believed that he genuinely hoped to enrich his congregation’s worship experience, I also realized that much education was required if dance was to be taken seriously as a valid and vital liturgical resource.

Dance in worship is not a new concept. Humans have always communicated their religious questions and expressions in the language of gesture and dance. According to Adelaide Ortegel, author of A Dancing People, dance as "a total act of worship and prayer" helps human beings grasp their relationship with God. While the forms may have changed, dance still serves to unite people to one another and to God, whom we experience largely through nonverbal forms of communication. Unfortunately, dance as a language of worship has been largely forgotten.

Creatures with bodies as well as minds and souls were the crowning glory of God’s creation described in Genesis. Christ also appeared in a bodily form, suffered bodily pain and death, and was bodily resurrected. Though we celebrate the Word becoming flesh, modem Christians tend to emphasize verbal rather than physical expressions of faith and worship.

The Hebrews did not make such a division between body and spirit. Dancing before God was an experience of both revelation and response; an intense and vital expression of love, praise, thanksgiving, mystery, fear and even anger. Scripture records Miriam’s dance of thanksgiving before the Israelites as they were delivered at the Sea of Reeds (Exod. 15:20-21) and David’s dance of ecstasy before the ark (II Sam. 6:14) The Psalms, written to accompany acts of worship in the temple, offer many examples of dance and liturgical movement. To dance was to praise God with the fullest expression of joy. To kneel and bow down was to show reverence and obedience. In The Liturgy as Dance Carolyn Deitering writes, "Processions, prostrations, encircling of the altar or Torah, bowing, lifting the hands in prayer, swaying and dancing were all embraced as human actions which assisted the community’s prayer to Yahweh."

Yet gesture and movement were eventually utilized by the clergy and by nuns and priests in convents and monasteries, where because of the rule of silence they could most ably express themselves through gesture and movement. Monks, while holding hands, would chant and sing, moving through a symbolic "maze of life" in the monastery or sanctuary. They would then dance circle dances before the altar, symbolizing the mystical union with the dead, with God and with Christ.

When public worship moved from the house church to the large basilicas to accommodate the growing numbers of Christians, worship settings became much more grandiose and formal. The people became passive observers rather than participants in worship, and movement and gesture became the sole property of the priests.

In the 16th and 17th centuries, the Roman Church formalized all liturgy and defined every gesture and movement for the priest. As a. response to former "liturgical chaos, heresies and abuses," explains Deitering, the church produced a liturgy which, despite its formal nature, was described by some as a "kind of ritual dance." This set liturgy brought to an end the possibility for liturgical variance and creativity. By the 18th century religious dances were scarce, and they almost completely faded in the Enlightenment, with the exception of certain religious sects like the Shakers for whom religious dance was central.

"We are about to come full circle with the liturgy as dance and with the art of movement which might serve the dance," observes Deitering. "The liturgy as dance has gone from activity to spectacle, and is now returning to community activity." The art of movement is being challenged to "return to its roots." The challenge comes, in part, from a spiritual hunger which involves the senses as well as the rational mind.

Liturgical dance today entails more than gestures or movements offered by the priest or minister. A choir of dancers, or soloists, trained and rehearsed in a language of liturgical movement, gives form to symbols and expressions, and serves as a vehicle through which God’s presence may be apprehended. Worshipers accustomed to oral and mental involvement in worship will have to develop the capacity not only to look and see, but to receive the dance kinesthetically. The dance as liturgy must be presented so as to invite and involve the congregation, serving as a window through which, according to liturgist Jeffrey Rowthorn, "one thing is seen, but something else is understood." How does dance actually transform movement into Christian meaning? It may be helpful to take a closer look at the component parts of liturgical dance: the liturgy .and the dance.

For Christians, the liturgy is both a personal encounter with God and a corporate experience. It is the activity of the Holy Spirit which makes a "crowd into a community," unifying the diverse strands of the worshiping body. According to Evelyn Underhill in Worship, the personal and social dimensions of the liturgy must cooperate at all times lest worship decline from "religion to magic and from a living worship to a ceremonial routine." Worship is an active not a passive experience, and one’s participation in the liturgy determines the outcome.

Dance is the use of specific movements and gestures by the body, movements often suggesting rhythms, ideas and feelings and often accompanied by music or words. Deitering describes dance as "the sole art which by its very being claims the power to unify body, mind, spirit, and emotions." The dancer’s ability to shape movements into patterns, symbols and images allows the dance to be an expressive, interpretive and reflective art.

For dance to become liturgical dance -- for it to call God into the midst of a celebration, for it to enliven and embody a particular scriptural message, and for it to help create and enrich a worshiping atmosphere -- it needs to be carefully crafted to fit the context of the entire liturgy, so people can respond without being distracted either by the bodies or the abruptness of the movements. We become merely observers of a performance when a liturgical dance is added to the middle of a service without regard for context or continuity. The dance then functions more as a novelty, an entertainment.

No set styles or movement patterns have yet evolved to form a standard dance liturgy. It seems as if everyone -- trained and untrained -- is trying one out. This experimentation is commendable insofar as it increases the pool of creative energy and talent and engages people in the worship of God. But if liturgical dance is not prepared thoughtfully and offered prayerfully, it can foster a negative impression that lasts for years.

Though I am a professionally trained modern dancer and an ordained minister, I have made many mistakes in seeking a place for dance in worship. Through these mistakes I have learned that liturgical dance works best when the minister, music minister and dance minister collaborate to form the liturgy. It is imperative that adequate time be allowed for creative planning and rehearsing. The congregation must be educated -- through the bulletin, workshops, sermons -- about liturgical dance. Ministers can introduce dance in worship by using gestures to indicate standing or sitting. They can bow, kneel, lift the Bible in acclamation and move down the aisles. They may also ask the congregation to join hands in prayer, greet each other in peace .with a hug or handshake and even raise their arms at appropriate moments. They may also emphasize the biblical imagery that suggests movement and physical expression in the worship of God.

Liturgical dances are most authentic and worshipful when the dancers have worked together for a significant period of time before dancing in an actual service. This develops a necessary rapport between the dancers in both faith and movement. When they are spiritually and physically prepared for worship, they can abandon themselves to the spirit of the movement rather than worry about technique and steps. If there is a variance of technical ability among the dancers, one must choreograph the dance for the least experienced, to preserve the integrity of the movement and its meaning.

The size and shape of the worship space should also be considered carefully. If little space is available, simple gestural dances with limited movement may be the most appropriate. Moving to the social hall of the church for a fuller liturgical dance service may be another option. When the congregation must strain to see, frustration will overcome any inspiration it might receive from the dance.

Transitions between the danced liturgy and the spoken or sung liturgy can be artfully woven into the service. Thought must be given to where the dancers sit, how they move from sitting to dancing, and vice versa. Usually dancers should be visible throughout the service so entrances and exits are not distracting. They will often kneel or bow toward the altar before and after a dance is offered to maintain a context of prayer.

Costumes should be simple and uniform. I usually ask dancers to wear leotards and matching skirts with a transparent veil which falls over the chest and waist. This way the body is veiled, yet the shape is still visible. Men wear loose pants and a leotard top and a uniform veiling.

Specific types of dances and movement styles lend themselves to different parts of the liturgy. Processional dances lead the choirs and minister up the aisles and set the tone and atmosphere for worship. Often the dancers, by way of candles, banners, tambourines, and the use of liturgical color and symbols (bread, wine, gifts) , can announce the worship themes. The movements presented by the dancers can help these themes come alive.

For instance, the Passion themes in Isaiah 52-58 about the obedient servant of God who suffers willfully and willingly for our healing and salvation present Christians with a series of paradoxes which are difficult to grasp: the honored one is despised and rejected, the innocent is charged with guilt, the healer is wounded, and the one who offers life is killed. Movements offered by a dancer can help a congregation grasp these paradoxes.

As a part of a sequence of movement, pause and stillness, a dancer begins by kneeling, with back to the congregation. Slowly he or she rises as if being pulled up by the wrists, which are twisted, hands in tight fists. The dancer stands as if hanging on a cross, turns slowly to face the congregation with a tired and pained expression. A crown of thorns resting on the altar cross gives the illusion of resting on the dancer’s head. The dancer lifts the head, straightens the body, and stretches arms forward to the congregation, palms up. The dancer then walks forward, reaching out as if to say, "For you!"

Prayer dances offer another vehicle of worship. They are used to focus the congregation and draw its members into prayer, or following a prayer. Before a prayer, I often have dancers turn and face the altar in silence, lift their arms high in outreach to God and close them in a prayer position while lowering both head and arms. The dancers then remain silent and in prayer during the reading of the prayer. Movement danced in silence can extend the prayer.

Reflective or interpretive dances are meditations and involve thoughtful exegesis of a Scripture or other meditative material. The purpose of the dance is to draw the members of the congregation into reflection concerning the meaning of the message. The dance sometimes accompanies the reading or follows it, with music or in silence. Often I begin the dance before the reading so the congregation can fully focus on the movements and their meaning before hearing the reading. The dance continues through the reading and ends in silence following the reading: Reflective dances of this nature can also be offered as a sermon or a sermon accompaniment (created collaboratively)

Celebration dances express joy and thanksgiving before God and before the community of believers. They often accompany the prelude and postlude and sometimes involve the congregation in simple movement responses. I have used a celebration dance to lead the congregation out of the sanctuary to a meal prepared in the social hall or to an Advent carol sing.

Liturgical dance is an invitational art. It invites us to respond to God with out whole being; it helps us move beyond verbal expressions to a fuller experience and expression of our relationship with God. Liturgical dances are choreographed to bring life and form to the joys, visions and struggles of a searching heart. When the dances are danced with the sincerity and confidence and spiritual discernment that worship requires, the Christian message is brought to life.

Past Imperfect: History and the Prospect for Liberalism — II

In 1611, a year now considered -- with the King I James Version and all -- a pretty good year for Christendom, John Donne complained that "new philosophy casts all in doubt . . . ‘Tis all in pieces, all coherence gone.. . Prince, subject, Father, Son, are things forgot." Assumptions about moral and general declension usually play well in poetry and homiletics -- Donne’s two genres -- and as witticism. (An old codger is supposed to have lamented that "your modern thunderstorms don’t clear the air.") But such assumptions usually make for poor history. And bad history, I think we would agree, can lead to dubious prognostication.

The "decline" of liberal Protestantism to which many are pointing -- some with satisfaction, others with dismay -- is frequently linked, especially by the dismayed, to a purported loss of moral coherence in American society. I would suggest a change of wording here: for "loss of coherence" I should like to substitute "lack of coherence." Our society certainly falls tragically short of coherent response to its own stated ideals, to say nothing of more transcendent ones. And the notion that these ideals were once far better realized gives them, of course, a kind of imprimatur from our ancestors. But such imaginings also provide handy and well-known tools for reaction. One appropriate response for the religious liberal, as for the social scientist, is to inquire very closely just what sort of past we are being asked to return to.

None of us admits to nostalgia when important matters are at stake. Even the religious New Right would ball at Grant Wacker’s characterization of their thought as Norman Rockwell view of American history ("Searching for Norman Rockwell: Popular Evangelicalism in Contemporary America," The Evangelical Tradition hi America, Leonard Sweet, editor [Mercer University Press, 1984]) Yet a great many of our diagnosticians, to the left as much as on the right, do allow elements of nostalgia to creep in. It does not take much attentiveness, at any rate, to find behind many analyses and prescriptions an idée fixe that prepluralist America was morally more coherent, more "together," more effectual than recent and current America.

While these implied contrasts between a moral past and an amoral present can be documented in certain respects, as general propositions they are ill-founded and, to be frank, downright wild. Anthropologist Mary Douglas puts part of the case as follows:

Reflection shows that the evidence for old-time sanctity comes from suspect sources such as hagiography, panegyrics and sermons. If we were to read even that biased evidence more critically, we would notice the professionals upbraiding the mass of ordinary people for lack of faith, as if the gift of which, we are told, modernity has deprived us was always rather the exception.

Douglas adds, with respect to the equally common assumption that people of past ages were spiritually and (hence) generally fulfilled, that she can see "no evidence that there is more unhappiness and mental disturbance now than in those famous ages of faith. How can anyone possibly say? The evidence is weak, the arguments weaker" ("The Effects of Modernization on Religious Change," Religion and America: Spiritual Life in a Secular Age, Mary Douglas and Steven Tipton, editor. [Beacon, 1983], p. 29; see also Marilynne Robinson, "Writers and the Nostalgic Fallacy," New York Times Book Review [October 13, 1985])

Most cultural and religious historians would want to second Douglas. In the case before us, the idea that America under mainline Protestant hegemony was, on balance, more coherent morally than today’s society may have been assumed in a traditional history that focused on those who exercised hegemony. But few interpretations in political or cultural history, and almost none in social history, have implied such a favorable view of the American past. And for at least a generation, broadened purviews in religious and intellectual history have made such views distinctly obsolete in those fields. Robert Handy, writing in 1971 of "a Christian America," juxtaposed in his subtitle ‘Protestant hopes" and "historical realities." His interpretation was, if anything, a trifle more celebratory than most.

Most historians would have to reply sadly that, whatever may have been the case in other societies, Americans in the past have been quite prone to act out all those sentiments; they have, moreover, been more ready than most to articulate them -- and in something like the phraseology Berger imagines. Richard Slotkin’s Regeneration Through Violence (Wesleyan University Press, 1973) is only the most noteworthy contribution to a small library of studies depicting a moral preference for violence in the American past. Our literature and thought forms have been replete with moral justifications or excuses for arson, rape (on and off the plantation) , and -- as the advertisers would put it -- much, much more. Slotkin, without carrying his analysis beyond 1860, records the use and justification of violence as a mode of initiation, self-creation and love; as a mode of progress, self-transcendence and regeneration; and, however incredibly, as a mode of reconciliation and of relation to God.

But surely, you may say, those anarchists of the past who expressed moral preference for the use of arson in labor disputes were denounced roundly by their contemporaries; and that is certainly true. It is also true today. But let me concede such points. If we were to do that, if we were to concede the relative benignity of the railroad strike of 1877 (in which arson was a preferred method) or of the Harlan County troubles in the 1930s, we would still have to talk about expressed moral preferences, in the American past, for burning convents, burning villages and cities, and burning Negroes.

If either Protestantism or the moral directorship of society at large has recently displayed counsels regarding war, injustice, poverty and industrial organization, I see in our past more seriously and acutely divided counsels. The moral directorship of the past was perhaps more effective than any consensus of today in the realm of personal morality; but even that is far from clear, given the bitter divisions in the 19th century over temperance, chastity, sabbatarianism and a dozen other moral issues. If we, in addition, consider the degree to which moral directorship was or was not effective -- if we estimate conservatively the actual crime rates, actual poverty, actual incidence of corruption and allowance of corruption -- it is not clear that what we are seeing today can be called the loss of a former moral coherence.

We are talking about a past American society that, for example, either approved lynchings or did nothing about them -- or was morally confused about them. While the movement from such a society to that of the civil rights revolution may not prove any theories of inexorable moral progress, it also does not prove, or even permit, a theory of moral declension. Henry Adams believed that the development of American politics from Washington to Grant disproved the law of evolution. He had a point; and if we then ask about the "progress" from Grant to Nixon, we would have to acknowledge something like stasis in our political morality. Yet the moral development from a society that largely approved of Grant -- or of Boss Tweed or of Warren Harding’s friends -- to the one that condemned Nixon and Watergate may reflect something better than stasis.

I am not urging a triumphalist or even progressivist view -- triumphalism being not at all preferable to nostalgia. I am suggesting that the search for solutions to our moral disarray is needlessly confused, even if it is helpfully dramatized, by fantasies concerning moral decline. More particularly, our consideration of the fate or future of religious liberalism is skewed from the start by unproved and, in most cases, unprovable assumptions about the past effectuality of institutional Protestantism.

Another of Will Herberg’s observations that might help us now was that Protestants in America, as of the 1950s, were suffering from the rather sudden onset of "psychological minority" feelings -- a sense of relative deprivation in relation to the power and dominance they had enjoyed in the past (Protestant-Catholic-Jew: An Essay in American Religious Sociology [Doubleday, 1955], pp. 250-51) The oldline denominations today, jolted by the minus signs of the ‘70s, are in a similar way struggling to adjust to long-term developments, this time within institutional Protestantism, that have come belatedly to their notice. Once we have attained a calmer and historically deeper sense of what has been happening -- once we move beyond both panic and panegyrics -- it should be possible to discern more clearly the future roles of these churches and of the religious forms of liberalism.

Peter Berger, in an aperçu that I admire very much, has predicted that secular humanism in America, having failed to achieve the sort of success many had expected or feared, will be forced to accept a kind of denominational status ("From the Crisis of Religion to the Crisis of Secularity," p. 22). The oldline Protestant denominations, oddly enough, may also have to accept denominational status. That, severally or together, they will ever regain the cultural dominance of yesteryear is, as the British say, simply not on. Those who hope that a few of the more egregious prime-time preachers will be replaced by liberals (or even by evangelicals) are in for a long wait; I’m afraid it is accurate, even if elitist, to expect that even to occur several days after "Dallas" is bumped by "Masterpiece Theatre." But the liberal churches do -- both severally and together -- stand for reasonably distinctive traditions or emphases. To own, refurbish and spiritually invigorate these distinctive features seems somewhat more important to the future of liberal Protestantism than the efforts, understandable though they are, to reach broader constituencies or to do something about the inadequate liberal birthrate.

I mean, obviously, to support those who think of the future usefulness of these bodies, and of their federative structures, in "gathered-church" more than in "churchly" terms -- at that juncture I agree with Dean Kelley (Why Conservative Churches Are Growing [Harper & Row, 1972]) To put this concretely, let me offer just one example. A common explanation for unimpressive mainline growth rates has been that monies for church building have so often gone instead for work in the ghettos, or to Angola or perhaps Nicaragua. Now until Congregationalists tithe like Adventists (another long wait) , the funds for doing what one would like in both these fields of endeavor are going to be limited. I believe that the liberal churches and ecumenical bodies, faced with such choices, should maintain much the same kind of balance -- or imbalance, if you like -- that in recent years has brought them under criticism. That is a personal preference, but at this point I am offering it also as a guess about the sources and shape of liberal Protestantism’s "American future."

In thus embracing a status that will be closer to "sectarian" than these churches are accustomed to, I would hope that liberal Protestantism might become less timid and less grudging in its commitment to religious pluralism -- or better, in its religious commitment to pluralism.

Despite the historic American and Protestant credentials of church-state separation and other elements in the pluralist tradition, some may find it a peculiar idea that mainline Protestants should go out of their way to defend that tradition theologically -- especially if they are in search of a future. Isn’t this, when all is said, something the churches should leave to the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) and the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) ? Doesn’t "pluralism" connote a fragmentation that liberal Protestants, whether or not they must accept it, don’t have to like or defend?

The answer should be No to each of those queries. "Pluralism" will endorse moral fragmentation only so far as we allow it to do so. The term pluralism, I take it, means not simply "diversity" (although it is sometimes used that way) , but more especially the acceptance, or even celebration, of diversity. It is a value term, not just a descriptive one. As such, it becomes an ally of fragmentation and moral anarchy only to the extent that we leave its defense to the fragmenters and moral anarchists. And my impression (as a nontheologian venturing beyond his competence and willing to be corrected) is that, despite ample encouragements from theologians in the liberal and neo-orthodox traditions, what we are calling liberal Protestantism has not exploited those resources within its own tradition that justify or even demand a positive theology on this point. Pluralism, if not religious freedom, has too often been allowed to appear as something the religious interests concede to political necessity.

Bodies like the ADL and the ACLU, far from endorsing moral anarchy, have mounted positive rationales for pluralism from the perspective of libertarian and other traditions. To these, liberal Protestantism ought to be adding its own potentially powerful voice. In other contexts, such as that of social action, we may want liberals to be more assertive about convictions that divide them from others; to be willing, for example, to call a social policy unchristian that they think is unchristian. But liberal Protestants have also been too timid about owning and expressing the biblical and theological warrants for their -- or anyone else’s -- speaking out in just that initially divisive way.

To the partially enfranchised, Borowitz said, the danger in the current conservatism is "that under the guise of ending ethical anarchy, America will grow more repressive." The problem, he said, develops when those who properly seek to reclaim ethical absolutes begin to insist that the truth they have found is all the truth anyone needs. Is that step inevitable? Is there no way, he asks, to hold an "ultimate" strong enough to ground and guide us, without then forcing our versions of truth on those who vigorously disagree with us? Borowitz answers that there has to be another way, since

we cannot be asked to accept the principle that, affirming the one God, we deny the virtues of pluralism. For myself, I would rather run the risks of the occasional abuse of freedom than face the profanation of God and the degradation of people that religious persecution and intolerance create. Our generation now needs to learn how to proclaim the truth of faith and liberty simultaneously.

Borowitz in that speech based the argument for pluralism on what he called "a profound theological modesty."

Though I know enough about transcendent truth to base my life on it, I also realize that it expresses and manifests itself in ways far more complex than I can fully understand. . . . For all my personal conviction, I must bow to your right to make up your own mind. My spirit and my intellect tell me that my understanding of the ultimate is the best that anyone has -- but that does not imply that those who disagree with me are necessarily in error and have no spiritual right to what I perceive as their religious folly.

As had often been done before (although rarely so well) , Borowitz linked humility before God to democratic ideology.

Against the old logic and the old theologies, we now assert the religious virtue of approaching the truth pluralistically. Transcendence without fanaticism, pluralism without permissiveness, the moral courage of the old faiths with modern democracy’s respect for differences -- America should have taught us that. We, who seek to bind up her spiritual wounds, need to be true to what this blessed nation has given her successive generations ["Harvard Divinity School Convocation Address," Harvard Theological Review 75 (July 1982) , pp. 272-73].

Although this, as it stands, constitutes an important base for revitalized moral consensus, one further step is required. It is a move that I’m sure Borowitz would agree to, since it is at least prefigured in his own argument. Why should one be "modest" theologically? Not out of timidity, but because humans are less than God. Why must pluralism be maintained? Not just because of political or social necessity, but because the denial of pluralism means a "profanation of God and degradation of people."

If we pursue the defense of pluralism only to the point of professing theological modesty and democratic necessity, there is the distinct chance that we shall still be talking about toleration. And that would not be enough. Toleration says, "I know I am right, but you are welcome to use the club. On weeknights. Please use the back entrance." Pluralism says, "I believe firmly that I am right; but only God is God, and only God knows who is right."

In thus explaining and championing religious pluralism on affirmative theological grounds rather than on negative or concessionary ones, liberal Protestants could make one of the more important of their distinctive contributions to the moral coherence ‘and consensus that our sprawling society needs but has found it difficult to maintain. Much else -- in the realms, for example, of piety, of doctrine and of social zeal -- can be seen as vital to the revivification of a distinctive liberal witness. But surely the theistic rationale for pluralism, in distinctive Protestant forms, deserves central attention. A liberal Protestant pluralism unconscious of its own grounding in the radical otherness of God and in an uncompromising respect for persons will continue to be vulnerable to charges of timidity -- of not knowing what we are about, or at least of being too skittish about asserting the spiritual and theological grounds of what we are about.

A historian, to be sure, must feel some diffidence in offering such confident, perhaps judgmental assertions about a project that must be carried out by others -- by theologians. Yet having been asked what liberal Protestantism must do to be saved, I can only say, as one historian of the liberal Protestant phenomenon, that I see the need for a bolder, more explicit theistic rationale for pluralism as perhaps the greatest unattended need of the moment. At the point where this, along with other assertions of a positive liberal theology, meets the secular demands and human needs of a diverse society and world -- at that point of convergence -- we would also discover a liberal Protestantism conscious of its own strength and conscious of its capacity to promote the healing of our social order.

Past Imperfect: History and the Prospect for Liberalism – I

Although the term liberal Protestantism carries several meanings, and is thus more than a little troublesome, the choice of that label enables one to begin with an upbeat answer. Does liberal Protestantism -- as a species of thought, faith and social commitment -- have a future? I believe religious liberalism, thus understood, is doing rather well and does assuredly have a future. If one had been asked, instead, about the prospects for a certain set of denominations usually called the mainline churches, such an emphatic response might not be possible. The mainline churches ("oldline," as some have suggested, is probably the better term) , while they won’t pass away, will predictably continue to experience losses in "market share" within the American religious economy. As populations shift, as overall church adherence expands, and as religious forces rearrange themselves, these bastions of an earlier, heavily Northern and Eastern Establishment will "decline" further from the amazing degree of domination they enjoyed in the first part of the 20th century. They have been undergoing a process of that sort, at the rate of 4 or 5 per cent in most decades, since the 1920s. This process probably will continue for the foreseeable future.

But the loss of institutional hegemony should not be equated too readily with a weakening in the various forms of liberal impulse -- theological, ecumenical, social, political. The spirit of liberalism, like other spirits we are told about, bloweth where it listeth. A famous and often-married actress was asked, during one of her seasons of respite between husbands, whether she would do it all again. She replied that she would -- but with different people. Liberalism, like evangelicalism or most other important isms, will perdure, but there’s no reason to suppose that it must express itself always and forever through the institutional forms within which it flourished in the past.

Some will want to dispute or qualify my contention that liberalism persists, and will persist, through changing embodiments. Many, both liberals and others, are convinced that the impulse itself is enervated and has little prospect of making further contributions to our religious and cultural life. Yet most of those same observers, when pressed for an opinion as to where the vital juices are flowing in contemporary American religion, will call our attention not only to born-again conservative evangelicalism, but also to movements and tendencies that stand in a direct line of succession to the liberal traditions.

To prefer the label "postmodern" for liberation theologies, as Harvey Cox does, may be legitimate and useful. And the fact that moderates and dissidents among the Southern Baptists or Missouri Synod Lutherans have not called themselves liberals is understandable. But such impulses, along with the broader currents of social Christianity and critical biblical scholarship that have been running within the new evangelicalism since the 1950s, surely owe a great deal -- just how much scarcely matters -- to historic liberalism. With such major centers of the new evangelicalism as Fuller Seminary now showing a good deal more affinity to neo-orthodoxy than to fundamentalism (see Gerald T. Sheppard, "Biblical Hermeneutics: The Academic Language of Evangelical Identity," Union Seminary Quarterly Review 32 [Winter 1977, pp. 81-94]), surely we must be cautious both about assuming flatly a "decline" of classic liberalism and about implying a one-to-one relation between the liberal ideologies, whatever their current condition, and the oldline denominational structures.

If the fate of liberalism and the fate of certain denominations are two different issues, they are both important issues. I shall try to address both of them, especially at those points where they intersect. I intend to confine myself to the three points that preachers traditionally allow themselves (more aptly, perhaps, the three wishes that fairy-tale characters are always granted just before they are turned back into frogs) I wish, first of all, that one might avoid the statistical traps that lie in the path if one relies too much on changing church membership figures -- in this case the figures that are supposed to show drastic decline and weakening in oldline Protestantism since the 1960s. Second, I wish one would forego the equally perilous nostalgia trips that transport one to an earlier -- and I think mythical -- America of serene moral and religious consensus. Finally, I shall single out, as the most neglected (although not necessarily most important) desideratum for liberal thinking and strategy, something I would like to call a positive theology of pluralism.

Before considering these three points I will state, as fairly as I can in a few sentences, what seem to be the most common reasons for questioning the survivability of liberal Protestantism. The usual assertions are (1) that this kind of religion is today on the defensive; (2) that the defensive posture is occasioned by the flourishing of "conservative churches" (although the alleged liberal enervation is also seen in more autonomous terms); (3) that the growth in religious conservatism and conservative churches is itself the result of widespread reaction against "secular humanist" values and against those who hold such values; (4) that our society as a whole has been experiencing a breakdown in moral consensus, a loss of moral coherence somehow connected with a decline in oldline Protestant dominance; and (5) that some or all of these happenings have been quite sudden, so that the early 1960s can be taken as a kind of benchmark -- as a time before the fall.

One might phrase the survivability question more poignantly as "Whatever Happened to the Old Main Line?" or, ‘Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone." The answer in much current commentary would seem to be: "Not long at all. You just missed it." But that answer is wrong or misleading -- and in such a way as to skew projections for the future. We need, at this juncture, not so much to be "saved from the ‘60s" (in Steven Tipton’s wonderful phrase) as to be saved from the ‘60s statistics.

Those who point with alarm to a precipitate decline of the oldline churches and a sudden thriving of conservative ones are not, of course, referring only to numbers. Yet some specific analyses, and countless casual assertions, have taken the apparently shifting figures for membership and attendance, especially since 1965, as signaling a grossly and suddenly changed situation. Such inferences have been prompted especially by the fact that a few oldline denominations in these years have shown negative growth. Although decline in absolute numbers does not give a qualitatively different signal from the declines against population growth that we had seen quite regularly in earlier statistics, minus signs are admittedly eye-catching and scary.

The first problem here is that, minus signs or not, the fluctuating growth rates for the oldline churches (quite healthy growth during the postwar revival; decline during the 1970s; some recovery in the first half of the ‘80s) tell us little if they are not compared, and compared over a number of decades, with the growth rates for the conservative churches. I would go further: in the absence of such historical controls, we are lured into just the kind of dubious suppositions -- for example, about allegedly increased defections from oldline to conservative -- that have plagued recent discussions.

I cannot claim to have attempted an exhaustive quantitative study. Given my skepticism, perhaps natural in a Quaker, about correlations between quantities and vitalities, I am unlikely to do that. But if one looks only at the most accessible figures for religious groups from 1920 to 1985, the prima facie case for a recently increased "movement" from oldline to conservative churches is simply not there. If you wish to contrast an alleged liberal disarray, since the ‘60s, with evangelical purposiveness and consensus, that’s fine, and it can’ perhaps be argued on other grounds. But the idea that the statistics of church adherence (even before we consider the enormous changes and varieties within evangelicalism) will support such a contrast is faulty. Indeed, in historical perspective the figures for membership and attendance could easily be used to argue that the so-called conservative churches have been growing less spectacularly over the past 20 years than in the period from 1920 to 1965.

Will Herberg tried to tell us in the mid-’50s that, despite a conventional wisdom to the contrary, conservative churches had been booming since the Scopes trial; and at a rate roughly three times that of the oldline churches. Those observations were rephrased by Pitney Van Dusen and others, at the end of the decade, as admonitions to the liberal churches that they had better take account of "third-force Christianity." The point was regularly confirmed and reiterated as scholars like Joel Carpenter studied the very-much-alive fundamentalism of the second quarter-century. Yet too many of our analysts have now, seemingly, forgotten about those earlier realities.

One frequently cited bar graph has been used to suggest, for the decade 1965-75, a severe diminution of seven mainline Protestant bodies by contrast both with their gains in the preceding ten years and with the continuing growth of selected conservative churches (see Jackson W. Carroll et al., Religion in America, 1950 to the Present [Harper & Row, 19791, p. 15) The gap in growth rates for 1965-75, as shown on that graph, is more than 29 percentage points (an average loss in the oldline denominations of 8.9 per cent against average gains among the conservatives of 20.5 per cent) This is indeed a substantial difference, but it does not approach the difference in growth rates recorded for the same religious groups in the 1930s, when the discrepancy amounted to 62 percentage points. It is smaller than the gap discernible in the 1920s, and only slightly larger than those for the ‘40s and ‘50s (see Yearbook of Amen can and Canadian Churches for the years 1920-1984) (I have made these calculations without including one denomination on the Carroll graph -- the Lutheran Church in America -- whose antecedents in earlier decades are too complex for reliable figuring. Inclusion of the LCA among the mainline bodies would decrease the gap between mainline and conservative growth rates for 1965-75.) One can grasp a little better what such percentage-point differences mean by noting that between 1920 and 1960, the conservative churches represented in this particular sample experienced an average growth of well over 400 per cent, while their oldline competitors were able to show, on average, a 40-year increase of 78.4 per cent. It is common to explain such vast differences by speculating that conservative churches must surely have begun with smaller numbers. That would apply in some cases; in others, such as the Southern Baptists and the Missouri Synod Lutherans, it would not. (The Southern Baptist Convention, which increased by 334 per cent, began at a figure larger than any oldline body save the northern Methodists.) In those instances, moreover, in which a small membership base is a factor before 1965, it usually is afterward as well.

A good many such corrections and variables could, in any case, be accepted without much affecting the main point: if differing growth rates were really a matter of people marching from one kind of church to the other, recent liberal or net losses would appear somewhat less alarming than the Great Trek we would need to posit for some earlier periods. By extension, if we were to take changes in church population as indicating in any significant degree how people react to liberal tendencies in the oldline churches and the ecumenical movement, we might find ourselves trapped into concluding (mirabile dictu!) that liberal policies have been acting to stem an earlier flow from liberal churches to conservative ones.

The differences between American Baptist and Southern Baptist growth rates have been considerably smaller in 1960-85 than they were in 1935-60. Are we to suppose that the liberalism of the American Baptists has been keeping potential defectors in the fold? An absurd suggestion, to be sure; but not much more absurd than the conclusions induced by overinterpretation of the oldline churches’ faltering and sometimes negative membership statistics after the early ‘60s. Not only were these churches leveling off from the heady gains of the postwar revival era (the main Presbyterian bodies from 1940 to 1960 had gained adherents at more than twice the rate of the preceding 20 years) , but just as important, even more than before they were "losing" members and potential members because the regions in which they were strongest were "losing" population. The South, since 1960, has grown by 45 per cent, while the Northeast has expanded by a modest 11 per cent. And if the population "moving" to fast-growth regions did not clamor for congregational churches, that was at least partly because the churches already there -- in rank defiance of our stereotypes -- by this time were not bound to be different from those they had left behind.

(Chart here, p. 14)

size between 1920 and 1985, realigning its elements in what were natural and healthy ways, the percentage of Protestants belonging to member churches of the Federal or later National, Council of Churches -- bodies not adhered to by Southern Baptists, Mormons or Missouri Synod Lutherans -- decreased gradually but with great regularity. The accompanying graph shows, for those years, FCC/NCC membership as a percentage of the total constituency of non-Roman Catholic Christian churches.

One sees by this measure, as by others, that for the oldline churches it was the higher growth rates of the 1950s that were unusual, not the relatively lower ones that set in after the early ‘60s. The immediate postwar period was, for the oldline establishment, a brief shining moment that is not a particularly good benchmark for subsequent "decline.

Many of us, it may be recalled, were not so sure that the crowding of the suburban churches in the ‘50s had constituted a shining moment in the first place. When the statistics leveled off in 1963, and Time magazine announced that the great postwar revival was over, church leaders were quoted as "thankfully saying ‘Amen."’ Bishop John Wesley Lord and a dozen others told reporters that now the churches could get back to real religion. In what one cleric called the "boom of numbers and dollars and buildings," too many suburban parishioners had been recruited, as Bishop Lord remarked, "who had been starched and ironed before they were washed." Although the churchly commentators of that moment might be suspected of putting a good face on things, their reactions were, on the whole, consistent with the reservations most of them had voiced throughout the revival. On this ground, too, we should think twice before taking the years around 1960 as a standard against which the current vitality or impotence of the churches is to be measured.

My plea is not that we abandon statistical criteria, but that we use the recent statistics with far more caution. More particularly, social-scientific analyses have usually been too casual about one essential kind of "control" the historical kind. Are the liberal churches declining? Well -- to use an old rejoinder -- compared with what? The seriously researched comparison has been not to past rearrangements of the religious landscape, but to concurrent growth in "fringe" and conservative religion.

Even those much-exploited comparisons, as I’ve suggested, too often treat evangelicalism as though we were living in 1955 rather than in 1985. In what senses, exactly, are the no-longer-tiny Evangelicals for Social Action unmentionable in relation to "liberal Protestantism"? Aside from the abortion issue, not many. Is the thriving, 40,000-member Peacemaker organization among the Southern Baptists not to be placed, in our analyses, somewhere near Clergy and Laity Concerned? In more individual terms, do we really mean to allow the Methodist family from Dayton that joins the Baptists in Houston to become a statistic of political or ideological change? Such migrants may or may not belong in a discussion even of theological change.

When, on the oldline-liberal side of the ledger, we speak of such things as withdrawal from foreign missions or from sponsorship of higher education, we might refer also to the phenomenal growth of religious studies (not predominantly under conservative sponsorship) in public and private higher education and to the manyfold increase in overseas agencies doing very much what liberal Protestants did in the heyday of foreign missions. When we find that youthful defections from religious affiliation were significant in the mainline losses of the ‘70s (Wade Clark Roof and Christopher Kirk Hadaway, "Denominational Switching in the Seventies: Going Beyond Stark and Glock," Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 18 [December 1979], pp. 363-77) , surely it is relevant to inquire whether or not that has been the case in the past; we should consult some of the numerous studies and plaints on that subject -- beginning perhaps with Washington Gladden’s Columbus, Ohio, survey of exactly a century ago: The Young Men and the Churches: Why Some of Them Are Outside, and Why They Ought to Come In. When trying to glimpse the future, on this same point, we might take seriously Robert Wuthnow’s warning, in 1976, that "predictions about religious trends based on data from the past decade are likely to be highly misleading ("Recent Patterns of Secularization: A Problem of Generations?" American Sociological Review 41 [October], p. 862). Wuthnow proposed that "as successive age strata mature. . . there may well be a return to more traditional religious commitments." We should, further, consider the degree to which the suburban church boom after 1945 was affected by the return of lost sheep (trailing their little lambs) from the late ‘30s.

On many fronts we must monitor the indicators and figures already appearing for the 1980s. In matters of some significance, such as congressional "representation" of religious groups, the enormous and disproportionate visibility of the oldline bodies continues (in 1984, 67 Episcopalians, one Pentecostal) ; the "losses" have been to Roman Catholic and Jewish representation, not noticeably to right-wing or even "evangelical" Protestantism (Albert Menendez, "The Changing Religious Profile of Congress," Church and State [January 1983], pp. 9-12; Christianity Today, "Members of Congress Hold Ties to 21 Religious Groups" [January 18, 19851, pp. 61 -64) Even in the membership sweepstakes it appears that the NCC bodies may do reasonably well in the 1980s. Of the six oldline churches (the Presbyterians having now amalgamated) whose negative figures for the 1970s were discussed earlier, none has decreased at the same rate in the 1980-85 reports (covering 1978 to 1983) Three have declined at substantially lesser rates. Two have virtually held firm. One (the American Baptists) has grown. (The American Baptist figures, I realize, have risen partly because the data collection method they used in the ‘60s and ‘70s has been abandoned. [Baptist "losses" had been affected, earlier, by that method.] But there has been a gain of 20,000, or roughly 1.5 per cent.)

I am willing, in fact, to hazard a prediction about the trendier media reports and worried conference papers of 1990. We may be in for titles like "Mainline Protestantism: Why Is It Growing?" or "Yuppies, Late Marriage, and the Sunday School Boom," or even "The Suburban Captivity of the Church."

Clergy Morale: The Ups and Downs

Ministry is a people-intensive profession. But ironically, a large number of professional ministers appear to be rather lonely people. A recent study of morale among United Methodist ministers in Minnesota indicates that while almost all enjoy their work and feel satisfied with their professional performance, they are also afflicted with self-doubts and loneliness. Experiencing the same personal crises faced by professionals in all fields, clergy often find themselves with very few shoulders to cry on. The joys go uncelebrated, the pains go unsoothed, the stresses go unresolved. Ultimately, the minister, his or her family, and the congregation probably all suffer.

In the spring of 1985, the Board of Ordained Ministry decided that it was time to "take the temperature" of Minnesota United Methodist clergy and conduct an informal survey of the 400 pastors under appointment within the state. A simple questionnaire was designed, covering a variety of issues dealing with lifestyles and job satisfaction. Within three weeks, 300 questionnaires had been returned. After analysis of the results, it was decided to hold 13 focus groups around the state, for the purpose of exploring some of the issues in depth.

These conversations revealed additional factors which affect clergy morale, and added depth to the original study. Though some of the findings are disturbing, it is important to remember that over 90 per cent of the questionnaire respondents claimed that they feel "positive" and "enthusiastic" about the quality of their lives and work. Thus, their dissatisfaction must be understood in that context. Further, in addition to their own feelings of satisfaction, 96 per cent indicated that they perceived their congregations to be supportive of them.

Among the ministers’ complaints, there is a group of factors having to do with the environment in which ministry is conducted, including painful economic circumstances (due largely, in this part of the country, to the farm crisis). Broader social changes take their toll on the morale of ministers; for example, as more women have entered the labor force, reduced numbers of daytime volunteers are available. There are also growing demands on the time of all parishioners, leading them to be more selective about their activities and commitments. In a profession where salaries are not high and praise is not often forthcoming, rewards are frequently intangible or absent. Further, while in earlier times pastors enjoyed a relatively high degree of prestige and authority, that is no longer universally the case.

One of the clearest findings of the study was that person-centered, one-to-one ministries are the most important source of professional satisfaction to pastors. Two-thirds of the clergy reported these pastoral and counseling relationships as the most gratifying aspect of their professional lives. Many feel deeply fulfilled at helping others grow in their faith, and are moved at the opportunity to be a significant channel for God’s grace in the life of another person. One minister described the experience as "touching people at a level most others never see and are perhaps unaware exists."

Program and liturgical functions such as preaching were cited by the remaining third as providing the greatest satisfaction. For many there is considerable enrichment in watching local churches grow in their commitment and sense of mission. The responses of laity to preaching and teaching and other pastoral leadership activities are extremely important; pastors referred to "feeling that preaching and teaching are falling on enthusiastic ears," "the recommitment of the faith by members who had fallen away," or "helping the laity to use their gifts."

The two most significant strains mentioned were time management -- a problem for many -- and feelings of self-doubt and struggle about one’s worthiness for ministry. Even persons who claimed to feel satisfied with their work and to enjoy the support of their congregations seem to wrestle with low self-esteem. And they seem unable to reach out to friends or professionals for help. Feelings of inadequacy, performance doubts, worries about under-appreciation, and concern over whether their efforts are actually accomplishing anything meaningful were all noted by participants as significant issues.

Skilled at meeting the needs of others, clergy seem to be far less able to take care of themselves. In the midst of a crowd of parishioners, clergy often find themselves to be lonely. The ministers studied seem to have difficulty in sharing their deepest needs, joys, concerns and sorrows with others, including clergy peers. Those who can listen to their parishioners unburdening their souls are often unable to do so themselves. Respondents reported a great reluctance to share deeply and openly with peers (despite frequent associations through meetings and nominal support groups), citing a lack of trust and feelings of competition. "What if I reveal my true self to a colleague, and then he or she becomes my next district superintendent?" was a question asked a number of times. Confidentiality is also a crucial issue; there was some feeling that news travels fast and far on the clerical grapevine.

Intimacy and emotional isolation seem to be problems that go beyond the issue of trust. Many clergy are fearful of becoming "too involved" in friendships with either laity or other clergy, one reason being the possibility of having to move away from these relationships. Both clergy and spouses said they have experienced too many losses to want to invest themselves in new friendships and run the risk of more pain. The ethic of not returning to the former parish exacerbates this pain (although the group was divided on the question of whether or not this ethic should be abandoned).

Spiritual concerns also emerged, particularly in the focus groups. Who cares for the pastoral needs of parish clergy? Who ministers to them and their families? Ministers do not seem to be very successful at either ministering to themselves or finding other spiritual resources for their own growth. Spiritual hunger seems to run deep, and many expressed a need for pastoral care for themselves and their families. But they also described an inability to seek out such help, sometimes due simply to time pressures. The comfort and counsel of a pastor is needed as much by clergy families as by lay families, but clergy are reluctant to consult their peers or judicatory officials whom they perceive to have power over them. Some do expect the bishop or district superintendent to provide this pastoral care, despite the personnel role in which these persons also function and their sometimes great physical distances from the clergy in the field.

The church itself was also seen by many as producing stress. The ministers’ perceptions of their parishioners’ expectations include the burdensome feeling that the minister is supposed to be all things to all people; that he or she will be available 24 hours per day, including days off and vacation times; that the spouse will be a willing volunteer; that the family will love the parsonage, whatever its condition; and that the ideal minister is a young but vastly experienced white male with a homemaker spouse and two or three lovely and well-behaved children. Conflict management, volunteer recruitment and administrative requirements also seemed to create distress for many.

Some stress comes from within. Participants expressed very high expectations of themselves: many believe that (in good United Methodist tradition) they can indeed achieve perfection if only they try hard enough. Most put in more than 55 hours per week on parish work, and many feel guilty about taking time off. Most are convinced that they must be good spouses and parents, competent administrators and skilled pastoral counselors. They must also maintain a positive image with their peers, while handling all problems themselves and never seeking help.

Marital and family relationships seem to provide difficulties as well as solace; ministers feel keenly the unsatisfied needs of the spouse for time, intimacy and privacy; and there is never enough time for the children. The spouse often feels powerless in the face of congregational expectations. A fair number of parsonages still have leaky roofs and appliances that don’t always work. Salaries have not kept pace with the cost of living, and in rural environments there are not always opportunities for the spouse to work, thus adding to financial and marital tensions.

There is also considerable anxiety about how one will fare in the United Methodist appointive system. There is often a tendency, accompanied by a great deal of anger, to blame one’s ills on the "system." Douglas McGregor, in his 1960 landmark book The Human Side of Enterprise, suggested that systems which by their very nature foster dependency (such as the guaranteed appointment system of the United Methodist Church) tend to produce a sense of powerlessness in those who work within them, and that this powerlessness is often converted into hostility toward the system or its management. This is certainly one plausible explanation for the clergy anger expressed in our study. While pastors blamed the "system" (either the denomination or the local church) , there seemed to be a general inability to take responsibility for one’s self and one’s own happiness. Participants expressed anxiety about appointments and the relationship of clergy evaluation to the appointment system, even though in the mail survey most indicated that they felt it was more important to serve where they were needed rather than follow their own personal preferences.

The frustrations of career expectations -- a common midlife phenomenon -- seems to be aggravated by the belief that achievement (poorly defined) will be rewarded by upward mobility -- presumably, appointments to churches with larger memberships and higher salaries. These values, which were articulated in the focus groups, are in direct contradiction to the findings of the initial survey, in which "serving a larger church" was rated as very important to only 6 per cent, and an increase in salary was rated as very important to only 9 per cent. Obviously, clergy seem to be fairly ambivalent about these issues. The belief in upward mobility also represents a seeming denial of the demographic facts; in Minnesota, there are a great many rural churches that pay low salaries, and only a few urban and suburban churches that pay notably high ones.

Despite the stresses which clergy feel, a wholesale exodus from parish ministry does not seem likely; while 13 per cent said they would consider leaving the ministry if they were equipped to do well in another profession, almost everyone else said they would probably stay in the field anyway.

The real question, then, may be how to empower clergy to take steps to improve their own morale and break through the passivity that sometimes cripples their emotional lives and occasionally their work. Naming the issues can perhaps provide some power over them and begin a discussion about developing strategies for defeating or working through them.

Also, friendships and support groups can be useful if only clergy can learn the same self-disclosing and risk-taking behaviors which they encourage in laity. Clergy have to accept the fact that they are human beings with the same basic social needs as other people, and to take those needs seriously. Friendships require an investment of time as well as energy, and clergy should claim that time and energy as important, valuable and legitimate. There is never time "left over" in ministry; it must consciously be set aside for social activities and developing close mutual relationships with others. Mutuality may, in itself, be a new and strange experience for clergy who have become accustomed to relating to other people only through their clerical roles.

Career development workshops and counseling can help ministers realize that they may need to develop realistic professional goals and satisfactions. Energy that often goes into fantasizing about how much better the next assignment will be could probably be better used by making the most of life in the present time and place. Job enrichment is a resource used widely in business and industry; for ministers, it could mean deepening skills one uses all the time, such as preaching. It could also mean developing new competencies, such as pastoral counseling, a biblical language, or mastering the accounting principles or computer software used in managing the church’s financial affairs.

Once one has mastered the basic tasks of ministry, there are other ways to develop beyond the limits of the local church. One can seek out opportunities to serve on district and other judicatory committees. Younger clergy often welcome the interest of an older, more experienced mentor who can share with them the ups and downs of career progression, providing the perspectives of wisdom and experience. Continuing education opportunities offer enrichment, and there are also community-based educational experiences that could help ministers to expand their horizons. Clergy could think about teaching in these programs as well as being students.

Time management is widely discussed, though apparently seldom practiced, by clergy. They often rationalize about why it can’t be done: "After all, it’s part of the job to be on call 24 hours per day." . . . "It’s the minister’s job to be available to anybody who drops in at the church wanting to talk.". . . "My family has to understand that the church comes first." . . . "I always intend to spend more time on sermon preparation, but somehow these emergencies always come up." Clergy need to learn skills of setting priorities and protecting one’s time. This usually means educating the church secretary to handle interruptions diplomatically, as well as informing the laity about the importance of time off (many clergy still are unable to give themselves even one 24-hour period per week of time away from parish responsibilities). The time and energy for one’s family, friendships, and one’s own inner life occur only when one is deliberate about them.

This study of Minnesota United Methodist clergy demonstrates that while morale is generally good, there are patterns that deserve attention. Not the least of these is that clergy need to be aware that they are not as powerless as they often perceive themselves to be -- victims of the ecclesiastical system and the whimsy of the local church. By taking responsibility for their own psychological well-being, social needs, spiritual growth and professional development, clergy can do a great deal toward creating a more positive professional experience, and a happier personal life for themselves and their families.

Christians and Their Ancestors: A Dilemma of African Theology

It is easy to be bullish on the growth of the church in Africa. On a continent where barely a million people were Christians at the turn of the century, there will be, if current trends continue, as many as 350 million Christians by the end of the century -- equal to the number in North America.

Yet many thoughtful African Christians are concerned about the future of African Christianity. They note that almost one-third of those 350 million will be first-generation Christians. Moreover, they see that many Africans -- both Christians and non-Christians think of Christianity as a foreign religion. The gospel is often not seen as offering resources for life’s most deeply felt experiences. When face to face with death or famine or infertility, many African Christians resort to traditional rites and beliefs.

At issue is a problem more nettlesome than the usual one of nominal Christian commitment. Rather, the central question is: Has there been an authentic engagement between the gospel of Christ and the cultures of Africa? More broadly stated: Does the gospel have a place everywhere in the modern world? Can authentic Christian faith flourish in every culture?

Important answers to these questions may arise in Africa. Andrew Walls believes that "what happens within the African churches in the next generation will determine the whole shape of Church history for centuries to come." He continues: "A high proportion of the world’s serious theological thinking and writing will have to be done in Africa if it is to be done at all" ("Towards Understanding Africa’s Place in Christian History," in Religion in a Pluralistic Society). edited by John S. Pobee [Brill, 1976], pp. 182-184)

Serious theological work is being done in Africa. Since the mid-1950, African theologians like John Mbiti, Edward Fashole-Luke, Desmond Tutu, Vincent Mulago and Harry Sawyerr have made it their mission to bring the gospel to bear on Africans’ lives and thought-worlds -- to make Christianity indigenous on a continent that first heard the gospel in New Testament times.

A major focus of these theologians is on the need to address some of the specific frustrations of African Christian spirituality. Of particular importance is the question of Christians’ relationships to their dead ancestors. In traditional thinking, ancestors are an essential link in a hierarchical chain of powers stretching from this world to the spirit world. Insofar as African traditional religion can be defined by specific "religious" actions, the cult of the ancestors is its most common and essential activity.

In order to understand the importance of ancestors one must realize that in the African view, death is not thought to end human relationships. Rather, those who die enter the spirit world in which they are invisible. Though the spirit world is a radically different world, it is also a "carbon copy of the countries where [the ancestors] lived in this life" (John S. Mbiti, Concepts of God in Africa [SPCK, 1970], p. 259). Deceased ancestors remain close by, as part of the family, sharing meals and maintaining an interest in family affairs -- just as before death. Yet they are thought to have advanced mystical power, which enables them to communicate easily with both the family and God. Thus they are considered indispensable intermediaries.

Deceased ancestors are integral to the traditional African social structure. In a culture where tribe, clan and family are of utmost importance, ancestors are the most respected members of the family. To be cut off from relationships with one’s ancestors is to cease to be a whole person. Moreover, the ancestors sanction society’s customs, norms and ethics. Without them, Africans are left without moral guidelines or motivation, and society is powerless to enforce ethics.

Rites for the dead are simple and omnipresent. The presence of the "living dead" is often acknowledged, particularly at meals or when drinking. Small portions are set aside or spilled on their behalf. In times of extremity, expensive gifts may be offered to them to gain relief or enlist their help.

Thus, a widespread "dichotomy of the soul" has grown up, in which believers assent to orthodox Christian belief and join in the denunciations of the ancestor rites, but privately retain their loyalty to the tradition -- especially in times of serious misfortune or death. South Africa’s new archbishop, Desmond Tutu, once lamented: "I, though a third-generation Christian, knowing only urban life with a father who was headmaster of an Anglican primary school, feel this division within my own soul" ("The Ancestor Cult and Its Influence on Ethical Issues," Ministry [July 1969], pp. 103-4)

On the other hand, some independent African churches, which have arisen without missionary tutelage -- while officially taking a harsh stance against traditional beliefs -- make use of prophets who play a role similar to that of the mganga -- traditional doctors -- in the ancestor cult. Other independent churches that affirm African tradition as essential to their faith encourage participation in the ancestor cult as a part of the Christian life. Some observers believe that the phenomenal growth of these independent churches is directly attributable to the mission churches’ strident attacks on African traditions.

Many African theologians -- themselves highly educated and westernized Christians -- speak of their passionate desire to be linked with their dead and of their own inner struggle. Tswana theologian and poet Gabriel M. Setiloane speaks for many African Christians:

Ah, . . . yes . . . it is true.

They are very present with us

The dead are not dead; they are ever near us;

Approving and disapproving all our actions,

They chide us when we go wrong,

Bless us and sustain us for good deeds done,

For kindness shown, and strangers made to feel at home.

They increase our store, and punish our pride

["How the Traditional World-View Persists in the Christianity of the Sotho-Tswana," in Christianity in Independent Africa, edited by Edward Fashole-Luke (Indiana University Press, 1978) , p. 407].

The theological issue facing African church leaders is both pastoral and existential. If the Christian faith is to have any real effect in African life, it must accept and address the spirit world. "We Africans cannot ignore the dead," Tutu insists. "A Christianity that has no place for them speaks in alien tones" ("The Ancestor Cult," p. 100) John Mbiti, one of East Africa’s most widely read thinkers, adds that "until Christianity can penetrate [the spirit world], it will for a long time remain on the surface" (New Testament Eschatology in an African Background [Ecumenical Institute, WCC, 1977], p. 155).

African theologians are the first to admit that this agenda is extremely delicate. Biblical evidence concerning relations with the dead is scant, and the issue certainly has not been of major interest among Western theologians. Church leaders also agree that some traditional notions about ancestors cannot be accepted by Christians. For instance, Christians cannot accept the view that ancestors have power over living family members, and they must emphatically deny that deaths are caused by ancestors. And divination, a primary preoccupation of the ancestral cult, is entirely unacceptable.

However, with these (and in some cases other) reservations, many theologians embrace or adapt traditional beliefs about ancestors. As theologian S. E. Serote insists, "Christian Africa must have a Christian ancestry" ("Meaningful Christian Worship for Africa," in Relevant Theology for Africa, edited by Hans-Jurgen Becken [Lutheran Publishing House, 1973], p. 150). In developing a Christian theology that speaks to the African understanding of ancestors, these theologians are confident that their insights will enrich worldwide Christianity.

According to these African theologians, the main tenets of traditional thinking about the spirit world do not really conflict with Christianity at all, but in fact parallel the New Testament understanding of a spirit-inhabited world. Furthermore, they say, there is no reason for Christian thought to be bound to a rationalistic, materialistic, scientific world view. A group of theologians who gathered in 1962 declared:

It is not part of the Christian Gospel to impart a particular metaphysic, but to speak to each man where he is. . . . It is necessary to present the Gospel in a form which meets that large area of human experience which is essentially irrational [quoted in African Independent Church Movements, edited by Victor E.W. Hayward (Edinburgh House Press, 1963), p. 74].

The theologians also agree with the traditional belief that death "is not the end of the story" (John V. Taylor, The Primal Vision [SCM, 1963], p. 165). To be sure, relations with a dead person are different from relations with someone who is living. But there is continuity; death is but another passage. In particular, family ties are not severed by death; the tribe or clan lives on. And most to the point: those who are in Christ enter a fellowship that "death can neither dissolve or weaken" (Mbiti, Eschatology, p. 147). Christians of all people, they note, should assert this reality.

The theologians do not all agree, however, on the precise nature of the relationship with ancestors. Some accept the cultic ways as more or less valid, intending to ‘christianize" the underlying concepts. For instance, Jabulani A. Nxumalo, a South African pastor, believes that the cult is essentially an indigenous process for celebrating death and grieving, and thus it presents no theological problems. The customs are but "gestures of respect toward the dead" (‘Christ and the Ancestors in the African World," Journal of Theology for Southern Africa [September 1980], p. 12). And M. Lyunungu goes so far as to include ancestors in his list of saints -- much as the writer of Hebrews included Old Testament heroes, who were also, as he points out, pagans ("Social Approach to the Ritual Activity of Man," Service [2-4, 1975], p. 47) In each case these writers believe that a purified ancestor cult can be baptized into Christian practice without doing violence to Christian belief.

A more prominent approach is to define the relationship with the ancestors in terms of the communion of the saints. From the beginning of the African theology movement, it has been suggested that this Christian doctrine can be revived, revised and given new prominence from within the African context. Western churches have tended to neglect this doctrine, but most of these theologians see the reality confessed by the ancient church – "I believe . . . in the communion of saints" as the fulfillment and Christian expression of Africa’s concept of community, which includes the dead. For this reason, John Taylor asked in 1963, "Is it not time for the church to learn to give the Communion of Saints the centrality which the soul of Africa craves?" (Primal Vision, p. 166).

By defining the communion of saints as "a spiritual fellowship which is based upon union with God in Christ through baptism," theologian Edward Fashole-Luke leaves open the question of whether this holy company includes all ancestors or only confessing Christians ("Veneration and Communion of Saints," in New Testament Christianity for Africa and for the World, edited by M. E. Glasswell and Edward Fashole-Luke [SPCK, 1974], p. 215) This position seems deliberately ambiguous. "We cannot simply say that the African ancestor can be embraced within the framework of the universal Church and included in the Communion of Saints," says Fashole-Luke (p. 216). But the Christian can remember with confidence that "the death of Christ is for the whole world and no one either living or dead is outside the scope of the merits of Christ’s death" (p. 217).

From this perspective, the church leaders readily accept their ancestors into the framework of the church universal. They believe that the old clan or tribal solidarity is fulfilled and universalized in Christ, who is the Ancestor of a worldwide family that is vitally related to all who have died. In this way, the African sense of human wholeness and solidarity is given prominence in Christian doctrine, and any alien individualism is overcome.

As Fashole-Luke and Mbiti suggest, the communion is described best in terms of intercession. Since Christians do not believe that the "living dead" have power to bless or harm, no one suggests that it is correct for Christians to pray to the ancestors (as in the traditional cult) But is it conceivable, they ask, that the relationship to one’s forebears -- which is so intrinsic to African personhood -- should be totally erased by death? Just as one’s parents prayed for their children while they were living, can it not be assumed that they will continue to do so after they die? "The intercession of the departed who are with Christ," Fashole-Luke writes, "is a legitimate consequence of the fellowship in prayer which unites the whole body of Christ" (p. 219).

But what about intercession on behalf of the ancestors -- especially those who were not Christians? Does one pray for them expecting some effect? Nxumalo speaks for many African theologians when he insists that such intercession is a Christian responsibility -- since duties to one’s elders are not changed by death (p. 20). Harry Sawyerr asserts that because intercessory prayer is a two-way exchange, the firm bond that cements us to our ancestors, some ancestors might be saved as an outcome of this intercession (Creative Evangelism: Towards a New Christian Encounter with Africa [Lutterworth, 1968], pp. 95, 137). Fashole-Luke is sure of the same effect and adds that Christians must "recover the practice of the ancient North African Church and pray in faith for the departed, both Christian and non-Christian. This will provide the Africans with that link with their dead which they so much desire" (p. 219).

Affirming this mystical bond with the "living dead" is seen as a particularly appropriate part of the Eucharist, when Christians declare their corporate existence in the body of Christ. With Christ as the bridge that binds the living and the dead, Christians "can pray for their ancestors and plead that the one, all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ may be effective in their case also" (Fashole-Luke, Veneration, p. 217).

By incorporating ancestors into Christian theology, African theologians clearly flirt with danger -- and they know it. But the relationship to ancestors is so basic to the African sense of selfhood and society, and the pastoral problems created by negative and foreign approaches to the issue so widespread and destructive, that theologians feel compelled to attempt such a synthesis. What they are reaching toward may offer a richer corporate understanding of personhood and of church for all Christians. In any case, the issue is crucial for Africa, for as Hans Haselbarth insists, "It is only in the way of a common Christian ancestorship and heritage of faith that the church is going to take root in African soil" ("The Place of Ancestors in a Christian Theology for Africa," Ministry [July 1967], p. 174).

Art and Propaganda

If someone were to tell me that it lay in my power to write a novel explaining every social question from a particular viewpoint that I believed to be the correct one, I still wouldn’t spend two hours on it. But if I were told that what I am writing will be read in twenty years time by the children of today, and that those children will laugh, weep, and learn to love life as they read, why then I would devote the whole of my life and energy to it.



The man who wrote those words, Leo Tolstoy, vacillated continually between art and propaganda. People are still laughing, weeping and learning to love life as they read his books, but others are also reflecting on, arguing with and reacting to his particular viewpoint on social, moral and religious questions. Although in this statement Tolstoy claims to come down firmly on the side of art, veins of “propaganda” run throughout his novels, inspiring some readers and infuriating others. In nonfiction works like What Is Art? the great novelist leans toward propaganda  -- even, as some conclude, at the expense of true art.

Like a bipolar magnet, the Christian author today feels the pull of both forces: a fervent desire to communicate what gives life meaning counteracted by an artistic inclination toward self-expression, form and structure that any “message” might interrupt. The result: a constant, dichotomous pull toward both propaganda and art. Propaganda is a word currently out of favor, connoting unfair manipulation or distortion of means to an end. I use it in a more acceptable sense, the original sense of the word as coined by Pope Urban VIII. He formed the College of Propaganda in the 17th century in order to propagate the Christian faith. As a Christian writer, I must readily admit that I do strive for propaganda in this sense. Much of what I write is designed to convert or to lead others to consider a viewpoint I hold to be true.

Counterbalancing the literary tug away from propaganda, many evangelicals exert, an insidious tug away from art. They would react to Tolstoy’s statement with disbelief -- to choose a novel that entertains and fosters a love for life over a treatise that solves every social (or, better, religious) question of humankind! How can a person “waste” time with mere aesthetics -- soothing music, pleasing art, entertaining literature -- when injustice rules the nations and the decadent world marches ineluctably to destruction? Is this not fiddling while Rome burns? Currently, novels written by evangelicals tend toward the propagandistic (even to the extent of fictionalizing Bible stories and foretelling the Second Coming) and away from the artful.



Somewhere in this magnetic field between art and propaganda the Christian author (or painter or musician) works. One force tempts us to lower artistic standards and preach an unadorned message; another tempts us to submerge or even alter the message for the sake of artistic sensibilities. Having lived in the midst of this tension for over a decade, I have come to recognize it as a healthy synthesizing tension that should be affirmed. Success often lies within the extremes: an author may succeed in the evangelical world by erring on the side of propaganda. But ever so slowly, the fissure between the Christian and secular worlds will yawn wider. If we continue tilting toward propaganda, we will soon find ourselves writing and selling books to ourselves alone. On the other hand, the Christian author cannot simply absorb the literary standards of the larger world. Our ultimate goal cannot be a self-expression, but rather a God-expression.

C. S. Lewis explored the polarity in the address “Learning in Wartime,” delivered to Oxford students who were trying to concentrate on academics while their friends fought in the trenches of Europe and staved off the German aerial assault on London. How, asked Lewis, can creatures who are advancing every moment either to heaven or hell spend any fraction of time on such comparative trivialities as literature, art, math or biology (let alone Lewis’s field of medieval literature)? With great perception, Lewis noted that the condition of wartime did not change the underlying question, but merely accelerated the timing by making it more likely that any one person would advance soon to heaven or hell.

The most obvious answer to the dilemma is that God himself invested great energy in the natural world. In the Old Testament he created a distinct culture and experimented with a variety of literary forms which endure as masterpieces. As for biology and physics, everything we know about them derives from painstakingly tracing God’s creative activity. For a Christian, the natural world provides a medium to express and even discover the image of God. Nevertheless, while Lewis affirms the need for good art and good science, he readily admits that Christianity knocks culture off its pedestal. The salvation of a single soul, he says, is worth more than all the poetry, drama and tragedy ever written. (A committed Christian must acknowledge that intrinsic worth, and yet how many of us react with dismay when reading of such terrible tragedies as the burning of the library in Alexandria, the destruction of the Parthenon during the Crusades and the bombing of cathedrals in World War II while scarcely giving a thought to the thousands of nameless civilians buried in the rubble of those edifices?)



The dilemma of art and propaganda is essentially a tremor of the seismic human dilemma of living in a divinely created but fallen world. Beauty abounds, and we are right to seek it and to seek to reproduce it. And yet tragedy and despair and meaninglessness also abound, and we must not neglect addressing Ourselves to the human condition. That is why I affirm both art and propaganda. As an author, I experiment with different forms; I hope to express my propaganda (if the word offends you, read “message”) as artfully as possible, and to imbue my art with a worthwhile message. I embrace both art and propaganda, rejecting the pressures to conform to one or the other.

In dealing with the tensions of art and propaganda, I have learned a few guidelines that allow for a more natural wedding of the two. Whenever I have broken one of these guidelines, I have usually awakened to the abrupt and painful realization that I have tilted too far toward one or the other. In either case my message gets lost, whether through pedantic communication or through a muddle of empty verbiage. Because Christian Writers are mainly erring on the side of propaganda, not art, my guidelines speak primarily to that error.

1. An artful propagandist takes into account the ability of the audience to perceive.

For the Christian writer (or speaker) who wants to communicate to a secular audience, this caution cannot be emphasized too strongly. In effect, one must consider two different sets of vocabulary. Words which have a certain meaning to you as a Christian may have an entirely different, sometimes even antithetical, meaning to a secular listener. Consider a few examples of fine words which have had their meanings spoiled over time. “Pity” once derived from “piety”: a person dispensed pity in a godlike, compassionate sense. By responding to the poor and the needy, one was mimicking God and therefore was pietous, or full of pity. Similarly, as any reader of the King James Version knows, “charity” was an example of God’s grace, a synonym for love (as In the famous I Corinthians 13 passage). Over the centuries, both those words lost their meaning until they ultimately became negatively charged. “I don’t want pity!” or “Don’t give me charity!” a needy person protests today. The theological significance has been drained away.

Similarly, many words we now use to express personal faith may miscommunicate rather than communicate. The word “God” may summon up all sorts of inappropriate images, unless the Christian goes on to explain what he or she means by God. “Love,” a vital theological word, has lost its meaning; for common conceptions of it, merely flip a radio dial and listen to popular music stations. The word “redemption” most often relates to trading stamps, and few cultural analogies can adequately express that concept. Blood is as easily associated with death as with life.

As words change in meaning, Christian communicators must adapt accordingly, selecting words and metaphors which precisely fit the culture. Concepts, too, depend on the audience’s ability to absorb them, and often we must adapt downward to a more basic level. If I see a three-year-old girl endangering herself, I must warn her in terms she can understand. For example, what if the child decides to stick her finger first into her mouth and then into an electrical outlet? I would not respond by searching out my Reader’s Digest Home Handyman Encyclopedia and launching into an elaborate monologue on amps, volts, ohms and electrical resistance. Rather, I would more likely slap her hand and say something like “There’s fire in there! You’ll be burned!” Although, strictly speaking, the outlet box contains no literal fire, I will choose concepts that communicate to the comprehension level of a three-year-old.

Andrew Young reports that he learned an essential principle of survival during the civil rights struggle. “Don’t judge the adversary by how you think,” he says. “Learn to think like the adversary” he voiced that principle in the days of the Iran hostage crisis when news accounts were using such adjectives as “insane, crazed, demonic” to describe Iranian leaders. Those labels, said Young, do nothing to facilitate communication. To understand Iran, we must first consider its people’s viewpoint. To the militants, the shah was as brutal and vicious as Adolf Hitler; they were reacting to the US. as we would respond to a country that deliberately sheltered a mass murderer like Hitler.

In a parallel way, when Christians attempt to communicate to non-Christians, we must first think through their assumptions and imagine how they will likely receive the message we are conveying. That process will affect the words we choose, the form and, most important, the content we can get across. If we err on the side of too much content, as Christians often do, the net effect is the same as if we had included no content.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, who has walked a tightrope between art and propaganda all his life, learned this principle after being released from the concentration camps when his writing finally began to find acceptance in Soviet literary journals. In The Oak and the Calf  he recalls: “Later, when I popped up from the underground and began lightening my works for the outside world, lightening them of all that my fellow countrymen could hardly be expected to accept at once, I discovered to my surprise that a piece only gained, that its effect was heightened, as the harsher tones were softened.”

(We must use caution here, as Solzhenitsyn learned. A new danger may seep in: the subtle tendency to lighten too much and thus change the message. Just drop this one offensive word, the Soviet censors coaxed Solzhenitsyn. There’s really no need to capitalize God that’s archaic. If you want us to publish One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, merely cross out this one problem line. Solzhenitsyn resisted these last two requests; he capitalized God and left the controversial passage: I crossed myself, and said to God: “Thou art there in heaven after all, O creator. Thy patience is long, but thy blows are heavy.” Acceding to such pressure would obliterate his whole message, he decided.)

Whenever a Christian addresses a secular audience, he or she must maintain a balance between leaving the message intact and adapting it to that audience. We who are Christians stumble across God everywhere. We ascribe daily events to his activity. We see his hand in nature and the Bible. He seems fully evident to us. But to the secular mind, the question is how is it even possible to find God in the maze of cults, religions and TV mountebanks, all clamoring for attention against the background of a starving, war-torn planet. Unless we truly understand that viewpoint, and speak in terms the secular mind can understand, our words will have the quaint and useless ring of a foreign language.

2. Artful propaganda works like a deduction rather than a rationalization.

Since 1957 psychologists have begun to define an instinctual process of rationalization in the human mind, sometimes labeled the theory of cognitive dissonance. Basically, it means that the human mind, intolerant of a state of tension and disharmony, works to patch up inconsistencies with a self-affirming process of rationalization.

I am late to a meeting. Obviously, according to this theory, it cannot be my fault -- I start with that assumption. It must be the traffic. Or my wife. Or the others at the meeting, who showed up on time.

Or an article I have written is rejected. Instantly I start consoling myself with the knowledge that hundreds of manuscripts were rejected that day. The editor could have had a bad breakfast. Perhaps no one even read my manuscript. Any number o factors arise to explain my rejection. My mind tries to quiet the jarring cacophony caused by this bit of news.



I define the process of rationalization very simply: it occurs when a person knows the end result first, and reasons backwards. The conclusion is a given; I merely need to find a way to support that conclusion. I ran headlong into an example process of rationalization while doing research on a book chapter about the Wycliffe Bible Translators. Since rumors of Wycliffe’s CIA involvement proliferate, I felt it essential to try to track them down. I telephoned outspoken critics of Wycliffe all over the country. One, a professor in a New York university, insisted that Wycliffe was definitely subsidized by that government agency. I asked for proof. “It’s quite obvious,” he replied. “They claim to raise their $30 million annual budget from fundamentalist churches. You and I both know there’s not $30 million available from that source. Obviously, they’re getting it from somewhere else.” Had that professor done a little research, he would have discovered that each of the top five TV evangelists pulls in over $50 million annually from religious sympathizers. Certainly the pool of resources in the U.S. is large enough to account for Wycliffe’s contributions. But he started from a foregone conclusion and reasoned backwards.

Solzhenitsyn encountered a startling case of rationalization when the Soviet editor Lebedev said to him, “If Tolstoy were alive now and wrote as he did then [meaning against the government] he wouldn’t be Tolstoy.” Obviously, Lebedev’s opinion about his government was so firmly set that he could not allow a plausible threat to it, and so he rationalized that Tolstoy would be a different man under a new regime.

Sadly, much of what I read in Christian literature has an echo of rationalization. I get the sense that the author starts with an unshakable conclusion and merely sets out to discover whatever logical course could support that conclusion. Much of what I read on depression, on suicide, on homosexuality, seems written by people who begin with a Christian conclusion and who, in fact, have never been through the anguished steps that are the familiar path to a person struggling with depression, suicide or homosexuality. No wonder the “how-to” articles and books do not ring true. No conclusions could be so flip and matter-of-fact to a person who has actually endured such a journey.

A conclusion has impact only if the reader has been primed for it by moving along the steps that lead to it before being confronted with the conclusion. The conclusion must be the logical outgrowth, the consummation of what went before, not the starting place.

C. S. Lewis, Charles Williams and J. R. R. Tolkien struggled with these issues intensely as they worked on fiction that reveals an underlying layer of Christianity. Lewis and Tolkien particularly reacted with fire against well-meaning Christians who would slavishly point to all the symbolism in their books by, for instance, labeling the characters of Aslan and Gandalf as Christ-figures. Even though the parallels were obvious, both authors vigorously resisted admitting that had been their intent. Those characters may indeed point to Christ, but by shadowing forth a deeper, underlying cosmic truth. One cannot argue backwards and describe the characters as mere symbolic representations -- that would shatter their individuality and literary impact. (I often wonder if Lewis erred on the side of propaganda with Aslan and thus limited his non-Christian audience, whereas Tolkien’s greater subtlety may last for centuries.)

Several novels by Tolstoy and Dostoevsky begin with poignant quotations from Scripture. Their authors selected those verses because they summarize a central message. Yet are the novels Anna Karenina, Resurrection, The Idiot and The Brothers Karamazov propaganda? Only a hardened cynic would say so. The novels, rather, incarnate the concept behind the Bible references so compellingly and convincingly that the reader must acknowledge the truth of what he or she reads. To be effective, a Christian communicator must make the point inside the reader before the reader consciously acknowledges it.

3. Artful propaganda must be “sincere.”

I put the word sincere in quotes because I refer to its original meaning only. Like so many words, sincere has been pre-empted by modern advertising and twisted so badly that it ends up meaning its opposite.

Consider, for example, a shy, timid salesman, who doesn’t mix well at parties and cannot be assertive on sales calls. He is sent by his manager to a Dale Carnegie course to improve his self-confidence. “You must be sincere to be a successful salesman,” he is told, and he practices various techniques for sincerity. Start with the handshake  -- it must be firm, confident, steady. Here, try it a few times. Now that you have that down, let’s work on eye contact. See, when you shake my hand, you should be staring me right in the eye. Don’t look away or even waver. Stare straight into me -- that’s a mark of sincerity. Your customer must feel you really care about him.

For a fee of several hundred dollars, our insecure salesman learns techniques of sincerity. His next customers are impressed by his conscientiousness, his confidence in his product, and his concern for them, all because he has learned a body language. Actually, an acquired technique to communicate something not already present is the opposite of the true meaning of sincere. The word, a sculptor’s term, derives from two Latin words, sin cere, “without Wax.” Even the best of sculptors makes an occasional slip of the chisel, causing an unsightly gouge. Sculptors who work with marble know that wax mixed to the proper color can fill in that gouge so perfectly that few observers could ever spot the flaw. But a truly perfect piece, one that needs no artificial touch-up, is sin cere, without wax. What you see is what you get -- there are no embellishments or cover-ups.

Propaganda becomes bad propaganda because of the touch-up wax authors apply to their work. If we can truly write in a sincere way, reflecting reality, then our work will reflect truth and reinforce our central message. If not, readers will spot the flaws and judge our work accordingly.

When I read The Oak and the Calf, I laughed aloud as I read the Soviet censors’ advice to Solzhenitsyn, because their script could have been written by an evangelical magazine editor. Three things must not appear in Russian literature, they solemnly warned Solzhenitsyn: pessimism, denigration add surreptitious sniping. Cover up your tendencies to realism with a layer that might soften the overall effect, they seemed to be saying.

Biography and fiction written by evangelicals too often show wax badly gaumed over obvious flaws. We leave out details of struggle and realism that do not fit neatly into our propaganda. Or we include scenes that have no realism just to reinforce our point. Even the untrained observer can spot the flaws, and slight bulges here and there can ruin a work of art.



All three of these temptations to propagandize in the bad sense increase with a captive, supportive audience. When we no longer have to win people over to our point of view, for example, realism can become an impediment. The Christian public will applaud books in which every prayer is answered and every disease is healed, but to the degree those books do not reflect reality, they will become meaningless to a skeptical audience. Too often evangelical literature appears to the larger world as strange and unconvincing as a Moonie tract or Daily World newspaper.

For models of these three guidelines of artful communication, we can look to the Creator himself. He took into account the audience’s ability to perceive in the ultimate sense -- by flinging aside his deity and becoming the Word, one of us, living in our cramped planet within the limitations of a human body. In his communication through creation, his Son and the Bible, he gave only enough evidence for those with faith to follow the deductions to truth about him, but yet without defying human freedom. And as for being sincere, has a more earthy, realistic book ever been written than the Bible?

A friend of mine, a hand surgeon, was awakened from a deep sleep by a 3 A.M. telephone call and summoned to an emergency surgery. He specializes in microsurgery, reconnecting nerves and blood vessels finer than human hairs, performing meticulous 12-hour procedures with no breaks. As he tried to overcome his grogginess, he realized he needed a little extra motivation to endure this one marathon surgery. On impulse he called a close friend, also awakening him. “I have a very arduous surgery ahead of me, and I need something extra to concentrate on this time,” he said “I’d like to dedicate this surgery to you. If I think about you while I’m performing it, that will help me get through.”

Should not that be the Christian author’s response to God -- an offering of our work in dedication to him? If so, how dare we possibly produce propaganda without art, or art without meaning?

To those few who succeed and become models of artistic excellence, the Christian message takes on a new glow. Looking back on T. S. Eliot’s life, Russell Kirk said, “He made the poet’s voice heard again, and thereby triumphed; knowing the community of souls, he freed others from captivity to time and the lonely ego; in the teeth of winds of doctrine, he attested the permanent things. And his communication is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.”