[1] As a Lutheran and a political scientist, I originally
reacted to In Search of the Common Good as Gulliver: It
seemed as though I had washed up on a strange beach, could not
understand the native languages, and was uncertain whether I was
surrounded by elves, giants, or horses. This is a book by, about,
and for serious theologians, with heavy representation from those
holding Catholic or Calvinist credentials. So they do not reason
about social ethics as Lutherans typically do.1
[2] Making what I can of this unfamiliar situation, I
agree, of course, that it is beneficial to read arguments from
unfamiliar perspectives, particularly when they come from persons
as obviously qualified and talented as the authors of this
anthology. I will confine my observations, and possible
embarrassment, primarily to chapters in the final third of the
book, which are the ones most closely related to general political
concerns.
[3] James W. Skillen ("Community, Society, and
Politics") maintains that in a pluralistic society definition of
the common good necessarily reflects the limited perspectives of
various organizations and institutions. It is the responsibility of
the "public-legal community" to reflect the interest of all, but
this cannot be thought of as a unitary objective norm, universally
applicable within a particular society (256, 274). That risks
totalitarianism (256-7). Instead, the pursuit of the common good
must reflect the diversity of social groups and their partial
understandings of common goods. "My argument is that the very
possibility of contention over the common good arises from the
inescapable norm-responsive character of human
existence….There is, and forever will be, no neutral terrain
on which to stand to negotiate agreement on an idea of 'the common
good,'…before we assume responsibility for thinking
about and shaping society" (259-60).
[4] After reviewing the contributions of the biblical,
Platonic, medieval, and modern traditions, he encourages Christians
to join in the search for the common good that may be embodied in
law, while avoiding the dead ends of Christian arrogance,
non-engagement, or pacifism (277-89).
[5] Max L. Stackhouse ("The Common Good, Our Common Goods,
and The Uncommon Good in a Globalizing Era") argues that neither
Anglo-American theories that expect equilibrium of individual
interests nor continental views that expect a regimented solidarity
can any longer promise a consensus about the common good.
Discussions about the common good can and should proceed within
either the "hierarchical-subsidarity" or "federal-coventantal"
tradition (282). Both respect the legitimacy of persons and
communities and both "know that a 'transcendental' frame of
reference is required" (283). We cannot hope to define "what is
common or good without God. Natural reason and voluntary agreement
by themselves cannot get the common good right" (285). Yet, as the
world becomes more integrated, people of faith of all traditions
must learn to respect each other's commitments while exploring
areas of agreement. There is a role here, as well, for
deontological dialogs, which also offer promise that more moral
laws can be embodied in international agreements
(300).
[6] William T. Cavanaugh ("Killing for the Telephone Company:
Why the Nation-State is Not the Keeper of the Common Good") offers
the view that the nation-state is a modern development and that
societies are more the results of these states than the creators of
those states. The latter view, of course, is the foundation of
social contract theory and contemporary political science
discussion of the importance of civil societies for democracy. He
cites numerous authorities for this view. These states, he insists,
prevailed over other political forms, because of their superior
ability to marshal military resources and control land, and, as a
result, simplify the myriad of guilds, classes, and associations
into a single unified society. Nation-states tend to discourage
other forms of common life. "The urgent task of the church, then,
is to demystify the nation-state and to treat it like the telephone
company….The state is not the keeper of the common good,
however, and we need to adjust our expectations
accordingly"(329).
[7] In the final chapter, Robert W. Jenson ("The Triunity of
Common Good") approaches the subject of divining the common good by
gently taking issue with some of the preceding essays. He is less
convinced than most of the others that communities need to be in
agreement on what the common good is or that there can be no such
thing as an objective common good apart from these contracts. For
example, it is not in our interest that the stock market crashes,
regardless of whether we are part of any group to prevent that
(333-4). For him, I suppose, if good happens in the middle of the
forest without anyone around to will it, it can still be good.
Related to this is the problem of representation based on
agreements: A representative can present interests, should
personally pursue the good, but cannot presume to pursue the good
on behalf of others. We must each do that on our own (335). Nor is
he as ready to give up on the nation-state's duty to pursue moral
purposes. It may mainly be a vessel for collecting expressed
interests, but it may need the residual collective ideas of civic
virtue to work: "we should not, in my judgment, be quite so
suspicious of national patriotism as are some members of our group"
(336).
[8] Jenson distinguishes between a common good that may
characterize any "polity," which he defines as any "relatively
permanent community whose life together is shaped and guided by
binding moral discourse functioning as such" (337) and the
common good, which "is the one that will survive the Last
Judgment, that will be the bond of the new Jerusalem." He includes
an interesting discussion, too complicated for this short review,
of the nature of the triune God, but comes to the conclusion that
the church is the mediator between God's perfect good and earthly
polities that should aim for good while always falling short:
"Every merely earthly polity…perdures by longing for what it
cannot have except by abandoning its rebellion against the Creator;
in which case it would no longer be a merely earthly polity"
(345).
[9] The ultimate common good is union with God, a form of
"participatory monarchy" (346). If we judge historical polities by
how much they "anticipate" this goal, it is appropriate for them to
be "participatory democracies," while recognizing Churchill's view
that they are the least worst kind of government. The norm for
judgments of the good should be the Ten Commandments: "If there is
natural law, they republish it; if not, they are all we have or
need" (347).
[10] It would be presumptuous for a political scientist to judge
how much of a contribution this anthology makes to theology and
social ethics, but as a political theorist I found the final third
of the book difficult, interesting, and worthwhile. Without
discarding the social contract tradition, the essays bridge the
interest group pluralism that we political scientists catalog and
sometimes embrace with a renewed emphasis on the traditions of
Christian social thought, which preceded it and whose moral
intuitions have continued to influence it. As a Lutheran, I found
myself becoming uncomfortable at times with the assertions that the
civil state in some manner embodies the Divine, but perhaps that is
just my misinterpretation. I definitely found Jenson's recognition
of the dialectical tension between the moral good we might aspire
to and the good we are able to achieve as a more familiar
expression of the correct understanding of the relation between
people and God. Now that I have gotten more acquainted with this
new land, I am definitely of the opinion that its inhabitants are
neither elves nor horses. This book deserves to be included in any
library of theology, social ethics, or political theory that serves
advanced undergraduates and above.
1
For example, Luther, Augustine, and Reinhold Niebuhr are
scarcely mentioned, and there are twice as many references to Black
Elk in the index as all of others combined. There is a chapter on
Paul, and its conclusions are in line with typical interpretations
of how he viewed the role of the church in the world and church
people as citizens. Unfortunately, most of the references to Paul
are confined to this chapter.
© May 2006
Journal of Lutheran Ethics
Volume 6, Issue 5
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