Showing posts with label doctrine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doctrine. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Logic and Doctrine: Homosexuality and Contraception (and "Affirmative Consent") [12 Jan. 2013]

Rate: 2 Flag

            Secular sorts will sometimes complain that this position or that position of one of the older religions is illogical; such complaints of illogic are often wrong.

            I was once at a party back in the days when academics consumed a good deal of ethyl alcohol (street names: "booze," "drink") and less dangerous but also less legal drugs (street names: "pot," "weed," "hash") — when I heard a cultured and well trained, and mildly smashed, voice behind me present a several-step syllogistic argument. Turning around as much as I could — the party was crowded — I asked in the direction of the voice, "Good God! Are you a Jesuit?" The voice replied, "No. I'm a Basilian," but added in defense of his order, "But we can be as pedantic a pain in the ass as the Jesuits any day."

            The good Father may've been high; his point — whatever it was — may've been wrong; but his logic was impeccable.

            Logic is part of the tradition of the Roman Catholic Church, and of the Talmudists who developed alongside them. Indeed, the only two readings I liked in my one class in philosophy were Jean Paul Sartre's lecture on atheistic Existentialism, "Existentialism Is a Humanism," and some excerpts from St. Thomas Aquinas's Summa Theologica. In each case I admired the author's honesty and logic: the consistency, clarity, concision, and coherence of their arguments.

            (A professional philosopher colleague later told me that Sartre largely repudiated the lecture, suggesting that Sartre was correct to do so: "If it was clear and concise, it couldn't have been what Sartre meant." My colleague was and is an acerbic man.)

            I received more powerful introductions to the power of religious logic, and of traditional Catholic education, from three undergraduate students at Miami University (Oxford, OH): two of mine, and one of the philosopher colleague.

            The two of mine were doing an honors project writing a filmscript. In the script was some weirdness involving male homosexuality, and my job as project director was to try to extricate these guys from their prose, figure out what they were trying to say, and help them say it.

            What they were trying to say would nowadays be summarily condemned as gay-bashing and forbidden to them, and it was problematic back then; but I was trained in the old "radic-lib" school of having students work through any ideas, and I had tenure and a full professorship, and there was little Miami U could any more do to me, or for me.

            So I pressed the issue with them, working through their logic, reaching a point where I asked, "Okay, if I understand what you're trying to say, it's your position that it'd be better for your character here — or you for that matter — to be gang-raped in prison than, say, consent to a blowjob from Tom Cruise?" Or I may've said "Brad Pitt," since I'm not knowledgeable on show-biz lore on who's putting what to whom.

            They said that was "a no-brainer"; of course it would be better to be gang-raped; "I would," one student said, "hit myself unconscious with a heavy piece of concrete" rather than get blown by Cruise or Pitt or whomever.

            To will acceptance of the blowjob would be mortal sin; there is no sin in being gang-raped or … well, or anything while unconscious.

            I think I was able to raise the ethical issues in ways they might understand — "values clarification" — and talk them out of the whole sequence in the script as unnecessary for plot and characterization and not justified on artistic or economic grounds (in real films, unnecessary locations waste money; unnecessary anything in any medium is, to my Chicagoan, Modernist tastes, an esthetic flaw).

            A more sophisticated and important argument (a "brainer," so to speak) came from my colleague's student.

            She argued that what came to be known as "Abstinence Only" programs, like traditional Catholic instruction on sex, actively did harm.

            A product of such indoctrination — "indoctrination" is the correct word, from "doctrine" — a product of traditional anti-sex indoctrination is apt to get drunk and engage in unprotected sex in part because s/he would be right to do so. Or, more exactly, less wrong in going about the evil of fornication.

            George Carlin pointed out before her, in a routine the student did not know, "It was a sin to want to feel up Ellen. It was a sin to plan to feel up Ellen. It was a sin to figure out a place to feel up Ellen. It was a sin to take Ellen to the place to be felt up. It was a sin to try to feel up Ellen, and it was a sin to feel her up. There were six sins involved in one feel, man!"

            The student did know that "Good girls don't" was the teaching; don't even want to. Also "Good boys don't," though boys are a bit freer to desire to, though active desire is still a sin.

            For a couple to practice safe sex, they'd have to intend to have sex and plan on sex sufficiently to, say, pick up condoms and go to a place where they would have time and space to use them. They would have to pervert the image of God within themselves by using the divine gift of reason to plan the sin and the equally divine gift of free will to will themselves to do the sin.

            Far better to, as the saying went and she quoted — far better, theologically, to "Get smashed, get stupid, get laid" and then "get remorseful and repentant and absolved," until the next weekend.

            Good kids don't plan to have sex; they might, though, get sufficiently drunk so that the Originally Sinful beasts within succumb to lust.

            Holy Church can forgive that; indeed, all the churches can: Christianity generally is big on the returned lost sheep and penitent prodigal.

            Willfully planning fornication and denying fornication is sin; saying, "Hey, I'm buying condoms and using condoms" and then actually doing so: that is a whole lot more serious. That is prideful turning toward sin and very deadly sin.

            Q.E.D.

            As a practical political matter, it's usually a bad idea to clarify things too much when discussing really basic, radical — from the roots — disagreements with powerful organizations, such as Holy Church and the various churches (and the puritanical portions of the Orthodox Rabbinate and "'Ulama-nate," or whatever the term would be for Islam). Still, we more secular Americans can use this much clarity on issues such as contraception, whether by condoms or methods more elegant: the problem for sound public policy isn't the illogic of traditional positions; the problem is moving with too rigorous logic from premises that can be accepted only on faith to conclusions that can have very bad effects in the everyday world of real people.

            Well, that and pre-rational prejudices and feelings: My male students writing the script were probably homophobic, and a lot of conservative older folks find teen sex simultaneously erotic and icky.

"Words Mean": Precision, Clarity, and Royal Pudding (13 July 3013)

Royal...Pudding...
Rich, rich, rich in flavor!
Smooth, smooth, smooth as silk,


            I'm sure there were exceptions, but my memory is that every term I taught a writing course — which pretty much meant every semester for forty years — I'd write on the board at least once, "Words means." Often words mean complexly and sometimes ambiguously, but it's only rarely and perversely that we get the Humpty-Dumpty rule that a word "means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less." If you're a legislative body words can mean what you command them to mean, and you can define "weapons of mass destruction" to include a hand grenade, which is destructive, but not massively, or nerve gas, which is somewhat figuratively "destructive to life" — though less effectively than well-placed hand grenades — but leaves objects very clearly undestroyed.

            Few of us, though, have such power, and most of us, most of the time, use words to communicate and have to stick to generally accepted definitions.

            Still, many were the times my students (and older folk who should know better) said, "Oh, you know what I meant!", and sometimes I did know. "Pedagogical confusion" is an old trick, where the teacher pretends not to understand what the student is saying and prods the little sod … uh, encourages the pupil into clarifying the point. Sometimes, though, no, I didn't understand; sometimes I'd been grading essays into the small hours of the morning and had trouble even seeing the words on the page. Sometimes, yeah, I understood — but I understood because I knew the material, knew the context, knew the student's dialect, and was a professional with a lot of experience and someone paid to read and figure out what authors mean; it's really arrogant for most writers to place such expectations on normal people, working for free.

            Sometimes, though, people expect you to just know what they mean and not challenge them because they're passing on received wisdom and speaking in clichés. A few such folk have an agenda, as your boss or coach very well may when urging from you a "110% commitment"; that 110% is a figure of speech and a cliché, but it's also a veiled demand for a blank check for your time and effort.

            Most clichés, though, are less pernicious than bosses of various sorts setting themselves up to demand way more of your time and effort than you should reasonably give. (If you give more than, say, 33.3% commitment to your job or 22.7% to a sports team, you're probably short-changing your family, community, and yourself.)

            I was generally spared motivational and inspirational balderdash, and most often just got innocent lemming-thought like a fair number of my more sentimental students' seeing Romeo and Juliet's being together "forever."

            I would quote Hamlet at them and suggest that "The rest is silence" is probably the best way to think about deaths at the end of tragedies. Romeo and Juliet, as tragedies go, is highly romantic and upbeat, and ends like an Italian comedy gone horribly wrong: a new and better world coalesces around a young married couple — Verona will finally know some peace — but the newly-weds are dead. So I would repeat back to my students, "they will be together forever" and ask, where?

            Romeo and Juliet are Catholics, you know, and so were most of my students; the earliest reference to Montagues and Capulets is in Dante's Purgatorio (canto 6, lines 106-08). If Catholics get the doctrine right, and Dante correctly supplied the gory details, Romeo and Juliet are together forever in the middle ring of the Seventh Circle of Hell, as trees or bushes eaten by Harpies.

            If the Protestants are right, R&J are less graphically burning in the lake of fire.

             Taking a more materialist or spiritualist view, the question is still, if "You can never kill love / When love is true" — as The Kingston Trio affirmeth unto this day on my old tapes — where does love live eternally. Unless you're a Buddhist, the fashionable cosmologies open to you insist on a doomed universe. "Some say the world will end in fire, / Some say in ice," but there's wide agreement that the world will end. Mythically, there's the Christian Apocalypse — possibly that "fire next time" — or Nordic Ragnarok for the ice alternative. Or the universe peters out through entropy or comes to a fiery pop out of existence with The Big Crunch. Take your pick: if you want to see love lasting forever, it has to be outside our universe.

            Even a saved pair of lovers up in heaven will have their love subsumed in an infinite divine love, or they will be in a variety of hell. Think seriously for a moment on heaven as an eternal family reunion. Then wait for a Rod Serling voice-over reminding you that an eternity of anything not infinitely interesting will become torture. However much Juliet et al. think their loves infinite, eternity had better be an "eternal Now," 'cause a century or so of human time with Romeo, and she's going to try to strangle him (if he doesn't snap first).

            Romeo and Juliet's love is a bright flash, tragically beautiful, tragically brief; it's of infinite value, if you like that idea and believe, but also "sudden; / Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be / Ere one can say, 'It lightens'" (2.2.119-20): its an awesome fireworks of "fire and powder, / Which, as they kiss, consume" (2.6.10-11).

            Let it go at that, kids, I'd say; it's plenty.

            All of us some of the time and some of us much of the time just don't think much about what we're saying. And that's OK, so long as we note that when we get serious about, say, love and marriage, the legal formula is precisely, clearly, and with hope but minimal bullshit, "until death do us part."

            In less exalted matters, and more generally, precision and clarity can still be difficult.

            I recently contributed to a tribute to my colleague Brit Harwood upon his retirement from the Miami University (Oxford, OH) English Department. My comments included the point that he improved our vocabularies.

            Brit was into precision, and his suggested wording for rules and policies and reports and such were very, very precise — and sent us to the dictionary. On at least one occasion, the trip, so to speak, was worth it. Brit taught us the word "cognizable," which is a very useful word for white-collar peasants and the professorial proletariat: in an extended meaning. it's a claim that actions by one's superiors can be reviewed and potentially blocked.

            I didn't know "cognizable" but do now. Similarly with a number of words Brit used, including in communicating with the Department's Promotion and Tenure Committee. Some of Brit's totally precise terms were totally unclear to your average full professor in English at a respectable university, though not a first-rate one.

            Which brings us to another question of precision and clarity.

            The closest thing I ever had to an argument with the Chair of my Department came when I was making claims for more appreciation of my scholarship or some such thing, and my Chair said to me, "Oh, come on Rich! You've got a second-rate mind." To which I replied, "Yeah, but I'm at a third-rate university," an assertion with which he didn't argue.

            My boss and I were both PhDs from the University of Illinois at Urbana, which is a second-rate school: usually in the top twenty-five world-wide, but not in the top ten or even up there with my other alma mater, Cornell: ranking thirteenth in the Shanghai Rankings of 2012. If Miami University has ever appeared in the top 500 in the Shanghai Ranking, then I missed it.

            Talking about Miami U as "third-rate" was precise (arguably even generous) but maybe misleading. Something like "third-rank" might be better, ranking just behind, say, the academically major Big Ten schools. Miami University is a good school and nearly a perfect "fit" for many of our students; it's a place where an undergraduate and even many graduates can get a good education, usually more than adequate for their needs and abilities.

            That the whole ranking system might be legitimately characterized as having "all the intellectual respectability of a pecker contest": that's a different issue. Still, if you can't make the top 500 on an international list, calling yourself a "top-rank" institution is either really parochial — "Best School in the Miami Valley!" — or it's hyper, or lying.

            My favorite example in this area combines precision with obfuscation disguised as clarity, and with gleeful dishonesty.

            I refer to a Royal Pudding jingle from my childhood, the one I quote as my headnote and can sing from memory, and the associated Royal Pudding ads.

            The ad copy touts that Royal Pudding has "74% more food energy than fresh whole milk" in large red type and informs you that that extra energy is "in every delicious serving!" That last part is undoubtedly true, given that it'd be 74% more food energy in any size serving. The ad continues in smaller, black type, "Milk is Nature's best food — as every mother knows. It's needed for strong, sturdy bodies, for growth, for vitality. But a serving of ROYAL PUDDING gives you all the benefits of the milk you make it with plus 74% more Food Energy," and then goes on with useful and straight-forward reminders that you can buy Regular  ROYAL or Instant ROYAL.

            The Royal Pudding people got into trouble for misleading advertising.

            Regular or Instant, Royal or Jell-O or homemade, you make pudding by adding to milk a thickening ingredient, stuff for the specific taste (color preservation), a touch of salt, and sugar or sugars, lots of sugar.

            Sugar is the point with most desserts — well, and fat, which the whole milk supplies — and Royal Pudding delivered sugar, and with it a whole bunch of food energy.

            Food energy in the US and UK is measured in "food calories" or "dietary calories" or kilocalories.

            Now consider a modified form of the jingle (and ad): " Rich, rich, rich in flavor! / Smooth, smooth, smooth as silk, / More food cal-o-ries than (even) fresh, whole milk!" Since the extra calories are (a) plentiful and (b) pretty much uncontaminated by vitamins, minerals, protein, fiber, or nutrients you might want in addition to high-power carbs and fat, tight-ass nutritionists and various health agencies would deride them as "empty calories" and assert that rich, sugary, smooth Royal Pudding and its successor products are pretty much just fattening.

            Still, the jingle and ad might be misleading, but they are eminently defensible as precise.

            Verily, even (sort of) as it is more exact to talk of "the environment" rather than "the ecology" and "rock formations" rather than "the geology," so it is more exact to talk of The Thing Itself, food energy, than the units in which food energy is measured, i.e., for most of us, calories.

            Changing "energy" to "calories" would make the ad less precise.

            My memory is that the ad was eventually pulled but not before it had run its course and drummed that dumb-ass jingle into at least hundreds of thousands of little minds. And frankly, I kind of admire the hucksters who developed the Roy-al Pud-ding! ad campaign. It's a rare and brilliant example of how to be precise and apparently clear while being memorable, effective, and really, really, dishonest.

            "Words mean," but if you're wily enough they can mean in nastily misleading ways and get the gullible public buying a lot of product.