What Is Liberation Theology (according to me...)?

Have you ever noticed that there are a number of words and concepts that, when they are brought up, everyone just assumes that there is agreement on what they mean?

‘Feminism’;

‘Pacifism’;

‘Liberal’;

'The Gospel’;

‘Punk Rock’…

Am I right? That's just a few of the terms the definitions and understandings of which are simply held to be self-evident- and not only self-evident, but simple.

I’d like to add one more term to the above list, one that is very close to my heart:

‘Liberation Theology’...

Among its supporters and detractors, this is another term where everyone seems to assume we all agree what we’re talking about… which is odd, because I'm an expert in the field, and I’ve heard definitions of ‘liberation theology' that I thought were either extremely narrow or needlessly broad;

In an online forum, to a question asking what the key texts in liberation theology were, one answer given was ‘the Gospels’. Clever…

To some, it’s any Christian activity that is vaguely ‘activist’. Homeless activism? Liberation theology. Church food drive? Liberation theology. Habitat for Humanity? Liberation theology…

To some, it is pacifism; to others, it’s armed militancy;

I’ve met anti-globilization activists describe what they do as ‘liberation theology’, and I’ve met anti-abortion advocates argue that what they do is better described as ‘liberation theology’;

On a Facebook group ‘Interfaith Liberation Theology’ that I help moderate, someone left a long post laying out the tenants of the Unitarian Church; when we politely told him that we’d prefer not to have posts that appeared so openly to proselytize one view over another, he responded that he was confused, and thought that the group was about ‘liberation theology’;

Needless to say, just about anything that Pope Francis says or does is immediately described as ‘liberation theology’…

There are nubs of truth in all of these.

But ‘liberation theology’ means a lot to me; it has been a keen interest of mine for decades, right back to when I was a politically-minded university student in the Reagan era, working on anti-Contra and anti-Apartheid campaigns. Later, it formed the foundations for my Theology doctorate from Trinity College Dublin.

As anyone who has done post-grad work will attest, being able to credibly define the terms you use- and back up your definitions- is vital.

So, this piece lays out my explanation, within the context of my own theological work, of what ‘liberation theology' means to me, and what I think sets it apart from other theological movements and tendencies. Again, it’s just my view, but I think it stands up.

So, here we go…

Liberation theology, or as I’d specifically call it ‘Latin American liberation theology’, arose in the late 1960s in the wake of the Second Vatican Council and the subsequent meetings of Latin American Catholic bishops in Medellín, Colombia in 1968 and Puebla, Mexico in 1979.

Throughout the 70s and 80s, Latin American theologians such as Gustavo Gutiérrez, Juan Luis Segundo, Leonardo Boff, and Jon Sobrino developed and broadened the movement, but liberation theology is not so much a corpus of their works- impressive as it all is.

Rather, liberation theology represented a new theological moment, an attempt to do theology in a new way.  

It was theology done with a very specific focus, priority, method, and direction...

Focus: Social Analysis

Social analysis represented a distinct focus of liberation theology- a focus on the role of theological reflection with specific attention given to the immediate social context.

This focus can be traced to a new language and understanding developing within the post-War Catholic Church of the late 1950’s and 1960’s with the publication of such documents as Pope John XXIII’s encyclical Pacem in Terris, the documents of Vatican II- particularly the document Guadium Et Spes- and Pope Paul VI’s Populorum Progressio. In these documents, the Church announced its intention to open itself to the modern wider world with levels of intellectual and spiritual engagement deeper than it had previously. The modern global situation, the Church observed, was now one where:

 ..One person out of every four is Chinese, two out of every three have not enough to eat, one out of every three lives under a communist regime (and) one Christian out of every two is not a Catholic.

It’s not that these facts were unknown before; it was that the knowledge of those facts didn’t particularly affect the theological process one way or another. Interviewed in 2007, theological scholar Ivan Petrella put it succinctly:

The UN Human Development Report once noted that it would take an additional yearly investment of $6 billion to assure basic education for everyone, while $8 billion is spent annually on cosmetics in the U.S. The report also noted that an additional $9 billion of investment would take care of clean water, while $11 billion a year is spent on ice cream in Europe. 

What does this data have to do with Christianity? Until liberation theology came along, nothing. And that's the point. 

Vatican II- and the theology of liberation that was developing alongside of it- brought new focus and urgency to the Catholic Church’s theological process and, by so doing, to the broader Christian world as well. The document Guadium Et Spes spoke of the need to be 'scrutinizing the signs of the times' and 'interpreting them in the light of the gospel'; it discussed economics, technology, social issues, culture, and ecumenism; Pacem in Terris spoke of understanding of the Gospel in the everyday affairs of humanity; essential human rights were recognized and laid forth, and the Pope was categorical that the role of the State was never one of domination or repression; it too was governed by reason and the law of God.

The subtext of all of these documents was clear: the need to understand the realities of human conditions was an absolute necessity for theological reflection.

The meeting of Latin American bishops in the wake of Vatican II at Medellín, Colombia in 1968 was the moment when the Latin American Church gave official recognition to this new contextual focus. The bishops explicitly declared their solidarity with the continent’s poor and called for structural- not just individual- economic and political reform:

We consider it irreconcilable with our developing situation to invest resources in the arms race, excessive bureaucracy, luxury, and ostentation, or the deficient administration of the community.

The Third Conference of Latin American Bishops in Puebla, Mexico in 1979 further developed on this foundation, with the conference devoting much of its energies to discussion of the ‘sinful structures’ evident in the region. What is notable about this language was the assertion that sin was not simply an amorphous spiritual condition; it could also manifest itself systemically, concretely. Moreover, any and all manifestations of sin must be resisted. This represented formal ecclesial recognition that ‘the people of God in Latin America, following the example of Christ, must resist personal and collective injustice with unselfish courage and fearlessness’.  

This can all sound a bit broad and vague, but the focus that liberation theology attempted to give to this new emphasis on social analysis should not be understood as the collection of data ‘about’ the poor or research conducted ‘on’ the poor. Rather, it was to be a process that emphasised engagement, and participation- the life of faith as one of discovery and understanding. 

Priority: Experience and Consciousness

The ultimate aim of liberation theology’s focus on social analysis was a more expansive vision of the people of God, which meant focusing on the life of the community, particularly that part of the community that was being repressed or marginalized because it was poor or of little social or political value. For this reason, liberation theology fostered a ‘bottom-up’ perspective, inverting both the common model of political hierarchy as well as the traditional Catholic hierarchical model, fostering the priority for drawing on the experience of the community when approaching the biblical text and building a new consciousness in the people of God. 

The platform for this priority was the local community of believers and,  in Latin America, the most notable model for these communities were the Christian Base Communities (also referred to as ‘base ecclesial communities’), autonomous laity-led cell-modeled small groups which began in Brazil in 1956 and proliferated throughout the region in the next two decades. The movement was designed to facilitate local worship, discussion, and biblical reflection due to a severe shortage of clergy in the region. 

By way of an active reading of the biblical text through the lens of the experiences of the community- immeasurably indebted to the work of Brazilian education theorist and activist Paolo Friere- the liberationists sought to highlight the place of God in the experience of the people- even in the midst of the reality of Latin America’s pervasive structural poverty and oppression. By doing so, they sought to provide a theological underpinning for the denunciation of that oppression, as well as developing a renewed consciousness on the part of those experiencing oppression or marginalization, reminding them of their value as unique subjects of God’s love and liberation.

Consciousness, then, for the liberationists, was the discovery and development of previously unrecognized or undervalued life, humanity and community, ‘the creation of a new humankind and a qualitatively different society’.

At the heart of this different society is not simply socio-political development but a deep spiritual life as well. While the temporal aspects are undeniable, it has its roots in the transcendent. For if Christ is who says he is, reasoned the liberationists, and accomplished what the Church said he did, the implications for those inflicted with poverty, marginalization, and violence are profound.

Method: Praxis

Of critical importance to Latin American liberation theology was its commitment to praxis, the positive action that follows on from theological reflection. This was its underlying method. Theology as praxis makes explicit the assumption that the critical exercise of theology leads to- or at least should be leading to- a practical outworking, not orthodoxy (‘right belief’) as an end in itself, but ‘ortho-praxy’ (‘right acting’).

The concept of praxis as it existed in Marxist theory- as a practical understanding of the unity of both theory and practice- was well known by the theologians of Latin America. Marx envisioned praxis as a revolutionary mechanism that precipitated a move beyond both abstract philosophy or critique and un-directed activism toward a historical changing of social conditions- revolutionary praxis. Marxist theorists also saw praxis as a way to move beyond pragmatism and determine objective truth; knowledge becomes useful because it is true, not vice versa. Thus, Marxists could point to the success of an action as proof of its validity; a successful praxis served as the confirmation of truth within a theory.

The key contribution made by liberation theology to theoretical praxis was two-fold. First, there was the addition of the ethical and moral dimension- a spirituality- which Marx saw as superfluous. The liberationists saw their reflection on social conditions as taking place in the light of Christian faith. Secondly, while the basic idea of ‘doing’ following on from ‘thinking’ existed in theology long before liberation theology, the Latin Americans emphasized a specific commitment, a specific solidarity with the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed and a definitive intention for social and political transformation.  This was an understanding of praxis as the Christian revelation of God’s love encountering the reality of structural poverty and oppression- the way things should be as opposed to the way things are. Theological reflection was seen as action and reflection aimed at the transformation of the oppressive situation.

This set liberation theology apart- the action and the reflection were both integral and ongoing parts of the theological process; reflection was not merely investigation of the biblical text leading to a better understanding of God, nor was Christian action on behalf of the poor an end in itself. Taken together, both reflection and action became a dynamic, cyclical process of Christian fellowship and struggle for justice, what Gutiérrez referred to as the poor Christian community’s ‘active presence in history’- religious devotion and religious action.

Direction: A Preferential Option for the Poor

As intimated earlier, Latin American liberation theology did not represent so much a new collection of doctrine but a new intention, a new commitment to see theology from a new location- it was theology with a new direction. That direction was toward the poor. ‘Option’ here means ‘choice’- when decisions must be made, resources allocated, or needs considered, liberation theology asserts that the God of life and liberation demands that the needs of the poorest come first.

In the rigidly-stratified social structure of mid-20^th-century Latin America, the overwhelming majority of the population- small farmers, agricultural workers, physical laborers, Amerindians, blacks, mestizos (those of mixed race), children, and the vast majority of women were almost totally absent from public policy and social commentary, given little notice and deemed of little value. They were ‘poor’- economically, politically, and socially.

The ‘option’ for the poor was more than simply the Church ‘taking an interest’, as it were, in the affairs of the poor at a policy level- although that was certainly part of it. Ideally, liberation theology saw the people and the Church envisioning their relationship in light of each other. Brazilian priest and theologian Frei Betto described it this way: 

After (Vatican II and Medellín in 1968)... It wasn’t so much a question of the Church’s opting for the poor as of the poor’s- forced by the repression of the people’s and trade union movements- opting for the Church. In other words, the poor turned to the Church in order to remain organized, articulate, conscious, and active... the poor invaded the Church (and) Catholic priests and bishops began to be converted to Christianity.

Liberation theology asserted that, because of their faith in Jesus Christ, the poor and the marginalized needn’t simply accept their poverty and oppression; God didn’t accept it, either. ‘God’, wrote Mexican theologian Elsa Tamez,’ is not indifferent to situations of injustice’:

God takes sides and comes on the scene as one who favors the poor, those who make up the masses of the people... God identifies with the poor to such an extent that their rights become the rights of God: ‘He who oppresses a poor man insults his Maker, but he who is kind to the needy honors him’ (Prov. 14:31)...

Tamez roots the theological struggle for liberation in a prophetic vision that God himself makes a choice. Jesus came not as an emperor, a king, a chief priest, a wealthy landowner, or even merely as a Roman citizen. Rather, he was a humble man, a carpenter, someone of no social or geopolitical importance, and who lived out almost his whole life in a small, insignificant village. He did not simply love the poor or care about the poor; 

he was poor. 

Jesus took a position and a direction toward the poor and the marginalised and, said the liberationists, by extension, so should God’s Church.     

 

These four elements-

doing theology with a focus on an analysis of social reality;

with a priority of drawing on the experience of the people and of building their consciousness;

by means of a commitment to theological praxis;

and in the direction of the most poor and the most marginalized-

form a significant legacy of Latin American liberation theology. The developments of Dalit theology in India, the work of Sabeel in the occupied Palestinian Territories, the Kairos Document in South Africa and other African theologies, Minjung theology on the Korean Peninsula, Black liberation theology in the US, Latino/a theologies in the Americas, Feminist theology, and Queer theology all represent, in various ways, legacies of Latin American liberation theology’s commitment to reflective theological praxis.

In each context, the vision of liberation and transformation is distinct; theology is being de-limited, making it more relevant, more inclusive, and therefore, as they saw it, truer to the Gospel of Jesus.

Feminist theologian Marcella Althaus-Reid I think put it best:

‘liberation is for everyone or it is for no one’.

Jesus and the Skittles...

Donald Trump’s campaign added to its nearly-unbroken track record for outrageous, controversial rhetoric this week by issuing an ad that attempted to stoke fear of refugees with brightly-coloured sugary sweets.

There’s really no point in trying to rank this particular incident among the litany of incitements to violence, racism, prejudice, misogyny, and xenophobia that have become the defining characteristics of the Trump campaign.

Best just to try to wrestle some kind of rational analysis and decent theological reflection out of it…

Of course, it should go without saying that rarely do people fleeing from terrorism and war make it their aim to move somewhere else and start killing people.

It should also go without saying that all those seeking political asylum are carefully vetted. No one who has ever committed a terrorist atrocity on US soil was part of the political asylum process, and it’s unfair- completely, outrageously, and grossly unfair- to scapegoat those who are for the atrocities of criminals and fanatics.

It’s equally unfair to impugn the work of those government agencies and the individuals within them who are working to safely settle those legitimately seeking peace and security, implying that their efforts are lax and incompetent.

But ultimately this isn’t about policy or politics; it’s about fear and suspicion as political tactics to win an election.

The subtext is, ‘why risk what is precious to you for the sake of people you don’t know?’

As many have commented in regards to this ad, when you look at it from another angle, the question it asks is, ‘would you risk eating a poisoned Skittle if, by doing so, you would save the lives of thousands?’

That’s really what we’re being asked to do: take a small risk- infinitesimally small- to save the lives of people fleeing the horrors of war and terrorism.

Oddly, America is a nation that usually heralds those who take risks for those in need, or sacrifice themselves for others.

Odder still is the fact that Christianity is a faith which believes that Christ came specifically to risk and to sacrifice.

My 13 year-old daughter and I talked about the Skittles ad today on the way to school.

We both hoped that, to save the lives of so many, we’d risk eating the Skittle.

‘I think Jesus would have eaten the Skittle’, I said.

She looked over at me, her eyes wide and knowing;

‘He took a whole handful…’

This is why God the Father loves me—because I lay down my life… No one takes it away from me, but I lay it down of my own free will…

There is no way to worship Christ without risk and sacrifice.

There is no way to love Christ without loving those who embody him.

In as much as you have done it to the very least of these, you have done it to me.

In as much as you have not done it...

As Syria crumbles;

As the bombs rain down on once-thriving cities;

As terrified families decide to abandon their homes and their livelihoods and make a run for it;

I believe Jesus comes to us, holding that bowl of Skittles, and says,

‘Take, eat’…

The God of Catastrophic Things? Rejecting 'Disaster Theology'

In my last post, I mentioned in passing about how ironic it was that Alanis Morissette’s hit song ‘Ironic’ listed many examples of situations that she described as ‘ironic’ when none of them were actually, well, ‘ironic’.

This past week, we were all presented by a report from the floods in the southern US that served as a perfect example of irony:

A pastor who had insisted that floods are God’s punishment for the ongoing sins of America had his home destroyed in a flood.

Louisiana-based Pastor Tony Perkins had sparked controversy in 2015 sparked controversy by agreeing with the idea that Hurricane Joaquim, which had just devastated the Bahamas, was a punishment sent by God. 

Perkins had been interviewing Jonathan Cahn, a ‘messianic’ Jewish pastor, when Cahn referred to the hurricane as ‘a sign of God’s wrath’ for, among other things, legalisation of marriage equality, abortion, and the US’s relationship with the UN, which he didn’t think supported Israel enough.

Perkins agreed with his assessment; ‘God is trying to send us a message’, he said.

This week, Perkins’ Louisiana home was destroyed by a flood.

Now that’s ironic…

Please understand that I don’t want to mock or belittle the suffering of Perkins and his family. But I do want to poke around the edges of this and other examples of an absurd theological discipline I’d call ‘Disaster Theology’.

‘Disaster Theology’ is any theological reflection that sees earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, hurricanes, etc. never as naturally-occurring phenomenon, but solely as instruments of divine warning and wrath.

‘Disaster Theology’ is by no means exclusive to Perkins. Televangelist and (let’s never forget) former candidate for President Pat Robertson has been going at it for decades, as when he linked Hurricane Katrina to legalized abortion;

Prominent evangelical and former Nixon counsel Charles Colson attributed Katrina to the US not prosecuting the ‘war on terror’ aggressively enough;

Evangelical author and pastor Henry Blackaby concluded that the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami was God’s judgement on Muslims for the persecution of Christians;

Author and journalist Joe Farah stated that a 2011 earthquake in Virginia was God’s punishment for ‘lawlessness in our world today’.

You get the idea.

So, where to begin?

To echo the ancient Church father Tertullian's assessment of the heresies in his own time, to merely describe these ideas is to refute them.

Needless to say, the proponents of ‘Disaster Theology’ see God punishing only the social ills that they themselves want punished- abortion, LGBT rights, UN policy, not supporting the state of Israel robustly enough…

(As always, it’s one of the great coincidences of human life that God always seems to share your own political views).

It would be just as easy for Christians on the liberal/progressive or radical end of the spectrum to suggest that natural disasters were God’s punishment for not providing comprehensive, affordable health care, economic inequality, marginalization of LGBT people, the failure to dismantle structural racism at home and support for repressive regimes abroad…

The biblical text records God and his prophets railing against ignoring the weak, the poor, the fatherless, and the widows at least as much- and often more- than it does about any of the supposed ills the ‘disaster theologians’ emphasize...

Might not a flood or an earthquake be God's warning to us about any of that?

Also, the US Midwest- the area with the highest density of Evangelicals in the country- is annually bombarded by tornadoes, yet the 'disaster theologians' let them pass without comment... which is odd, because tornadoes are extremely localized, leveling one town and sparing the one next door. So you'd think they'd fit the Disaster Theology' worldview to a 'T'... 

Of course, in Perkins' logic, the moment a righteous Christian (like, presumably, himself) is the victim of disaster it ceases to be a punishment and becomes a test, a teaching tool, lovingly given by God to help us grow. Perkins wrote on social media that the Christians should look on the recent southern floods that destroyed his and so many other homes and businesses as an ‘incredible, encouraging spiritual exercise to take you to the next level in your walk with an almighty and gracious God who does all things well.’

So, Christians should be encouraged; the disaster is a blessing to them and a curse on everyone else. And everyone else needs to be told that they're being cursed. How else will they know to repent?

And why, by the way, would God try to warn America of its sins by sending a hurricane to destroy… the Bahamas? If you’re opposed to LGBT equality, the Bahamas might just be your idea of paradise:

Same-sex marriage and civil unions are illegal;

Gay couples are not eligible for any of the same legal protections available to hetero-married couples;

The Bahamian government has done nothing over two decades to ensure that LGBT citizens are included in non-discrimination clauses in statute laws;

And discrimination in employment, education, housing, health care, banking, and public businesses on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity is perfectly legal.

So, God punishes the Bahamas… to ‘send a message’ to America… about what might happen to them if they… don’t do exactly what the Bahamas is doing?

It obviously makes perfect sense to Perkins and his ilk, but I can’t wrap my head around it, and I’ve studied systematic theology at a postgraduate level…

But I’ll go out on a limb here and just say that ‘Disaster Theology’ doesn’t make sense because it’s nonsense. It’s unsystematic, illogical and- unless you resort to an incredible amount of arbitrary proof-texting- biblically baseless. Any theological model that requires so many loopholes and exceptions to be in any way systematic is simply bad theology- random, pointless, and anti-Christian.

The most damaging aspect of ‘Disaster Theology’ is that it utterly ignores the person of Jesus.

Jesus’s message in the Gospels is that he came to reveal the Father and to proclaim the Kingdom of God.

‘Whoever has seen me has seen the Father (John 14:9)’;

We saw Jesus feed the hungry, heal the sick, refuse to condemn the sinner, argue with the fundamentalists, bind up the broken-hearted, raise the dead, and tell stories filled with love, compassion, and mercy.

‘I and the Father are one (John 10:30)’.

One of the things Jesus revealed about the Father was that he ‘causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous (Matt. 5:45)’.

Simply put, Jesus- the incarnation of the Son of God; fully human and fully God; ‘of one being with the Father’; Saviour and Messiah- told us explicitly that God does not punish evil with weather.

‘Disaster Theology’ only works if Jesus was lying or didn’t exist.

To be truly transformative- socially and spiritually- the focus of theology, as I see it, is to reflect on the lived experiences of the people of God in the light of our faith. Its priority is acknowledging the value of that lived experience in the eyes of God, and in raising the consciousness of the community. It does this through rigorous praxis, the cyclical process of reflection and action. And the direction of our theological reflection should always be toward the most poor and the most marginalised.

‘Disaster Theology’ transforms nothing and accomplishes nothing. It condemns and criticizes, moralizes and marginalizes. 

It’s not theology. 

Trump, Truth, and Reflecting On a Politics of 'Yes' and 'No'

Donald Trump has made many controversial, questionable, and patently false statements in his run for the presidency.  I’ll not take time to relate them all here, as they’ve been dutifully collated by many journalists, commentators, and bloggers.

For the sake of my topic, I’ll need to explore one, delivered on 10 August at a rally in Florida. Trump declared to supporters that President Barack Obama and Hilary Clinton are responsible- personally- for founding the Islamic State (ISIS).

‘ISIS is honoring President Obama’, Trump said. ‘He is the founder of ISIS; he is the founder of ISIS, OK? He’s the founder. And I would say the co-founder would be crooked Hillary Clinton. Co-founder. Crooked Hillary Clinton.’

As with many of Trumps declarations, the statement left many- opponents and supporters alike- pondering questions like ‘did he really say that?’ and ‘what did he mean?’

Many prominent Republicans took his comments at face value and strenuously defended his analysis on media outlets.

Others, like conservative radio host and Trump supporter Hugh Hewitt, wondered if he might have been speaking metaphorically. ‘I know what you meant’, he said to Trump in an interview. ‘You meant that he created the vacuum, he lost the peace…’

Trump was having none of it. ‘No, I meant he’s the founder of ISIS. I do. He was the most valuable player. I give him the most valuable player award. I give her, too, by the way, Hillary Clinton.’

By Friday, however, Trump was insistently tweeting that his comments were never meant to have been taken seriously:

Ratings challenged @CNN reports so seriously that I call President Obama (and Clinton) "the founder" of ISIS, & MVP. THEY DON'T GET SARCASM?

So… Where to begin?

The easiest place to start is that it’s obvious Trump doesn’t understand sarcasm either. This tweet commits one of the biggest misuses of rhetorical terminology since Alanis Morissette co-wrote a hit song titled ‘Ironic’ that contained no examples of irony. 

‘Sarcasm’ is the use of irony to mock or convey contempt; Trump’s statements that Obama and Clinton founded an international terror organization- whether Trump believes that or not- were not sarcasm. They were lies, obviously, but the technical term would be either ‘slander’ or ‘defamation’.

Secondly, Regardless of his earlier insistence he was serious, backed up by many defenses by his own party, it appears that Trump does not, in fact, believe that President Obama and Hillary Clinton founded an international terror organization. The amazing thing about this particular candidate is that we can’t really be sure…

This is uncharted territory in US politics, one that the voters and the media have never encountered. Traditionally, a candidates speeches, interviews, and position statements- as well as unscripted gaffes or mistakes- made on the campaign trail are the news story, building a broad picture of the candidate's beliefs; but Trump makes so many incredible, outrageous, and downright unbelievable statements that they are news in and of themselves. It’s almost impossible not to report them. 

In this case- the initial statement, the confirmations, the double-downs, and then a declaration that he never meant them to be taken seriously- we are now in the position of not knowing if the candidate believes what he is saying or not. Moreover, Trump’s unvarnished loathing for the media means he revels in the idea that the media doesn’t understand his meaning, as he did in a Friday tweet:

I love watching these poor, pathetic people (pundits) on television working so hard and so seriously to try and figure me out. They can't!

Finally, the whole episode displays all the classic, strategic hallmarks of a bully- say something outrageous, abusive, violent, or rude, and when confronted, insist you were kidding… and imply that anyone with any intelligence would have known you were kidding.

But the point I’ve been thinking about is this:

The important question, in my opinion- and what Trump and his supporters don’t seem to grasp- is that is not so much whether or not people understand that a potential US President was being sarcastic, but whether or not people should be put in the position of having to figure that out…

The biblical text contains many and varied statements about the importance of honesty and plain-speaking. Needless to say, it is unequivocal in its condemnation of lying; lying gets condemned more often than any other sin. The Hebrew understanding of ‘bearing false witness’ bore a legal and moral imperative, encompassing slander, libel, defamation, and false reporting of events. Lying could even carry the death penalty; if a person was found to be lying against a defendant in a capital case, they would receive the punishment they sought for the defendant.

In the political sphere, we’ve become so accustomed to lying that we are almost totally inured to it. We often dismiss or overlook lying as ‘just a campaign promise’, ‘the way it works’, ‘the way you get things done’, ‘spin’, or ‘putting bad news, in the best light’.

But the biblical text is adamant that lying destroys community, is a window onto bad character, damages personal credibility, and rots the soul.

But since Trump insists he was being sarcastic, what can we take from the biblical text on that?

I’d reflect on the words of Christ in Matthew 5:37:

Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil.

Now, sarcasm is not a sin; it certainly wouldn’t be thought of in the biblical text as a sin in the way that lying is a sin. Indeed, among close friends, it can be harmless fun. But it carries an enormous capacity for abuse- abuse that takes subtlety and cunning. It brings a complexity into what is being said that runs the risk of being problematic or offensive.

It pretends to give positivity and praise- things we all need and desire- while actually delivering disparagement.

It uses wit and 'knowing' against someone with seemingly less wit or knowledge and punishes them for not being in on the joke.

It forces its victim to interpret what is being said until finally realizing that they are actually being insulted.

Sarcasm is also very culturally specific; it requires intimate knowledge of the norms, customs, turns of phrase, humour, and culture of all involved in the exchange.

At bottom, sarcasm is a form of communication in which it is nearly impossible to convey respect, affection, or admiration… and it is absolutely impossible to convey love.

The message of Jesus was the love of God, particularly the love of God for those whom the rest of society found it difficult to love- women, the poor, the bereaved, the marginalized, the diseased, and the lost.

The message of Jesus was ‘yes’ and ‘no’- ‘yes’ to love, life, justice, goodness, reconciliation, and liberation; ‘no’ to hatred, oppression, marginalization, fundamentalism, and death…

We should expect and demand ‘yes’ and ‘no’ politics- a politics of truth, transparency, honesty, integrity, reconciliation, liberation, and transformation.

We should reject any candidate or system- at any level- that can’t or won’t deliver that. 

When to Kill A Dog Warden: The Rhetoric and Reasoning of Violence

I’m not a John Lennon fan.

I’m not even particularly a fan of the Beatles.

Don’t get me wrong; I recognise the importance of the Beatles in terms of popular culture and musical innovation. But they really didn’t impact my consciousness in a big way. I once described it to an irate Beatles fan- who seemed to think that I was somehow slighting the Fab Four- thus: there’s never been a time in my life where I needed to listen to the Beatles, a time when I’ve walked into the house, gone straight to the stereo, and put the Beatles on. In contrast, there have been hundreds of times I’ve done that with the Clash, Minor Threat, Bob Marley, Public Enemy, and Velvet Underground…

That said, the one Beatles song that I’ve always liked- thematically and musically- every time I hear it is ‘Revolution’.  Musically, it’s the one time that I thought the Beatles really showed some backbone; it’s recorded so ‘hot’ that it sounds loud no matter where you put your volume knob. Thematically, it was such an interesting counterpoint to much of the ‘revolutionary’ music of the time; it wasn’t a call for revolution, but a probing and questioning of those who did.

You say you want a revolution
Well, you know, we all want to change the world…

Lennon was right; in the socio-political maelstrom of the mid- to late-60s, everybody wanted change; there was a real global sense that, for many, the status quo could not hold. The Czechs in the streets of Prague, Irish Catholics in Northern Ireland, students in Mexico City, blacks in Detroit, Newark NJ, and Soweto, and a thousand other critical issues were screaming to be heard, demanding  something new, something better.

But beyond the all-encompassing- but rather amorphous term ‘revolution’- what, John wanted to know, beyond the rhetoric, were we all talking about specifically? He seems to suspect that it's all a bit hazy:

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know, we'd all love to see the plan…

So what was Lennon’s plan? He doesn’t say; he never lays out what he specifically supports. But what I find fascinating, though, is that he’s very specific about what he doesn’t support:

When you talk about destruction
Don't you know that you can count me out…

If you want money for people with minds that hate
All I can tell is, brother, you’ll have to wait…

If you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow…

I find it interesting that he’s doesn’t condemn this or that action, or this or that movement, but the rhetoric one step removed from it all; not those who destroy, but those who ‘talk’ about it; those who ‘want money’ for it, those ‘carrying pictures’ of ruthless dictators from a safe distance;

Those for whom violence- in the abstract, in theory- remains on the table.

Lennon seems to be poking and prodding the fashionable rebels, the political dilettantes; those thoughtlessly throwing around slogans, ideas, and images that they don’t fully understand.

The rhetoric and imagery of violence and armed struggle, and concepts like ‘… by any means necessary’ are incredibly alluring; they sound strong; they cut through theory and discussion and go straight to rock-solid commitment and action.  Let’s be blunt; they’re incredibly sexy, and can make dialogue and discussion look very homely indeed.

I got thinking about this after recently coming across a group called ‘Black Liberation Project’. They have a Facebook presence so you’re welcome to check them out for yourself.

There are a lot of positive things about the group, and I want to make clear that this piece isn’t intended as a condemnation of them or a marginalization of their actions and struggles.

But I want to use one of their statements that they posted to a Facebook group I’m a part of to think about a point.

My academic background and work experience is in post-conflict social reconciliation, so I’ve read a lot of manifestos like this one. Looking at this one broadly and philosophically, BLP seem to be trying to keep their options open, to maintain a public persona of activity and commitment. They bluntly state that the movement is not non-violent; they might feel that to declare themselves otherwise runs the risk of their cause not being taken seriously, or ‘White America’ remaining complacent to their concerns. In the struggle for liberation and social justice, they make it clear that they won’t be the ones to take anything off the table.

I’d like to explore the dangers of leaving violence- even in abstract, in theory, or simply in rhetoric- on the table.

The big problem with violence is that, when the cause in which violence becomes a tactic is a good one, a just one, even a noble one, it becomes easier and easier to rationalize. No one wants to ever admit that their use of violence might be destructive and abusive, so we instinctively rationalize our violence, figuring out how it can be put in the best possible light; how it can be categorized as self-defense; how it is proportionate, or a reasonable response to the violence used against us. Who wouldn’t argue that the cause of ‘liberation’, ‘emancipation’, or ‘justice’ is worth almost any price to attain, particularly if those against whom violence is used are trying to thwart that very noble cause?

Once violence is rationalized, it becomes easier for its proponents to dehumanize those against whom it is used. Cops, soldiers, judges, bureaucrats, and government employees are no longer individuals, but ‘part of the system’ or ‘the forces of oppression’. The fact that they very often are part of systemic oppression only makes the situation more complex… 

Once violence can be easily rationalized, and its victims dehumanized, it becomes normalized. People have been brutalized for centuries, BLM argues above; who could expect them not to reciprocate in kind? That’s normal; that’s reasonable.

Once that point is reached, the violence can be described as self-perpetuating; cyclical; ongoing.

And once violence is unleashed- particularly in asymmetric ways- it’s makes it all the harder to draw a line under a conflict and address the issues that led to the conflict in the first place, particularly if those issues involved the use of oppressive violence against a minority group or movement.

I lived and worked for many years in Northern Ireland in the aftermath of the 30-year conflict there.

Every side accorded itself the heroism of a noble cause; every side erected memorials to its fallen who gave their lives, on the one hand, ‘ar Saoirse na hEireann’ (‘for the freedom of Ireland’) or, on the other, in ‘the fight against Irish Republican terrorism.’

One such memorial is in the memory of Joseph MacManus.

On 5 February 1992, 49 year-old Eric Glass, the dog warden for Fermanagh District Council in the west of Northern Ireland, received a call to remove and destroy a Black Labrador who had bitten the niece of a local farmer.  When Glass pulled up to the farm and stopped his van, he saw two IRA guerillas running toward him, one with a handgun, the other with an AK-47 assault rifle. The report was a trap.

Glass was a part-time soldier with the Ulster Defense Regiment, the British Army’s local regiment. He had a sidearm on the passenger seat under a jacket and managed to grab it as the van was being riddled with bullets.

Glass managed to exit the van and return fire, sustaining multiple gunshot wounds, shattering his pelvis. One of the ambushers- Joseph MacManus- was killed.

Glass received a commendation.

MacManus was given a full Republican funeral, attended by thousands, full of soaring rhetoric of heroism and martyrdom, and a memorial in his honour was erected. It's inscription read: 

I Gcuimne

Oglas Soesaim MacManais

Oglaigh na hEireann 

A fuair bas ar Saoirse na hEireann

In proud and loving memory of  

Volunteer Joseph MacManus

Irish Republican Army

Maugheraboy, Sligo

Killed in Action, 5 Feb. 1992, Aged 21 Years

From my experience working, studying, and writing around the dynamics of conflict and violence, I will guarantee you this:

Once you’ve decided your cause is just, that the enemy is so extraordinary that opposing them demands the use of ‘any means necessary’, and if the conflict drags on long enough, you will- eventually- decide to murder a dog warden;

You will- eventually- conclude that a dog warden is part of the machinery of the oppressive state;

You will- eventually- describe the murder of a dog warden as a key battle in the struggle for freedom;

You will- eventually- decry those who question how the death of a dog warden brings the struggle for freedom closer to victory as pie-in-the-sky liberals, enemies of justice and freedom.

So my message to the Black Liberation Project is this: 

I believe that the American people need to fundamentally recognize and deal with the legacies of slavery and systemic racism that were embedded in this country from its earliest foundations;

I believe we need to fundamentally re-think how the US does policing, judging, and incarceration;

I believe we need to resist the status quo;

I believe that our resistance needs to be non-violent, but- and let me make this perfectly clear- I believe that our non-violence needs to be resistance...

I believe we should accept nothing less than true freedom, democracy, justice, independence, emancipation, and liberation.

But your statement above? Well, don't you know that you can count me out...