‘Orthodoxy’
by G.K. Chesterton (first published 1908; Baronius Press edition, 2006)
pp181
Review
by Joseph Shaw
It’s not often I review a book which has been published for more than a century, but at this time of rising Chestertonian revivalism, with Chesterton studies, Chesterton institutes, and reprints and references constantly appearing, it is as well to take stock of what is going on on planet ‘GCK’. Contrary to my own expectations, I am not very enthusiastic about what I see. Rather than trying to give a balanced assessment of GKC’s overall work, which would be a monumental task, let me list some of my misgivings, based on this one work.
It’s not often I review a book which has been published for more than a century, but at this time of rising Chestertonian revivalism, with Chesterton studies, Chesterton institutes, and reprints and references constantly appearing, it is as well to take stock of what is going on on planet ‘GCK’. Contrary to my own expectations, I am not very enthusiastic about what I see. Rather than trying to give a balanced assessment of GKC’s overall work, which would be a monumental task, let me list some of my misgivings, based on this one work.
As
GKC himself notes, this is not a conventional work of apologetics (p160),
although it is frequently described as one. Rather, it is an account of his own
philosophy, by way of the considerations giving rise to it. Along the way
various prejudices and arguments against Christianity are addressed, but
the only positive reasons given for belief are either personal or social: that
Christianity fits neatly into his own Romantic imagination, or that
widespread belief in it is better for society, particularly in promoting
the interests of the downtrodden. These are not, of course, reasons for
believing that Christianity is actually true; they are simply reasons for
wishing it were true (or being glad that it is). The view that one ought to
believe what it would be useful to believe is Pragmatism, and that of course is
totally opposed to the objective view of truth at the heart of Orthodox
Christianity. Does GKC realise that there is a problem here? There is no
indication that he does. So this is the start of my worries about GKC.
My
second major problem is GKC’s enthusiasm for democracy. He is a great supporter
of democracy, because he believes in the wisdom of the ‘ordinary’ man.
He tells us, however, ‘there is one thing I have never from my youth
been able to understand. I have never been able to understand where
people got the idea that democracy was in some way opposed
to tradition.’ (p47) As I read the passages in the book on this topic I
began to realise that GKC is being perfectly honest: one of the biggest,
most influential, and most dangerous currents of thought for the
previous two centuries is something he just fails to understand.
My
dear GKC, if you were alive I could easily enlighten you. As to ‘where’
the idea comes from the locus classicus is J-J Rousseau, and it works like
this. Whereas most Europeans up to the 17th Century were governed day to
day by laws and institutions which represented the continuation of
immemorial traditions, such as marriage and property, laws forbidding
theft and incest, and processes of conflict resolution, Rousseau called
these ‘chains’, and thought that we could all be ‘free’ if we followed the
dictates of pure reason. Since all men have a rational faculty, this could
be done by a system in which everyone could vote for startling new laws
and institutions, and throw off the shackles of the old. These votes would
of course be unanimous, because pure reason would always come to the same
conclusions, and we could all bask in the knowledge that each law was in
accordance with our personal will, and not, like the old traditions,
imposed from without. The only exception would be if some people’s
reason was impeded by selfishness; they would need the guidance of the
more enlightened citizens.
This
is simply a secular political version of the Protestant rejection of
tradition in religion. Luther said that each man could get the truth
directly from God, via the pages of Scripture. Everyone, consulting
Scripture, would naturally agree, since Scripture is an infallible presentation
of Divine Revelation, unless they were impeded by moral turpitude; given
the danger of turpitude getting in the way, people needed to be led by a
cadre of properly drilled Lutheran ministers. The great thing was that
either way they would get the truth direct, or nearly direct, from source,
and all those complicated traditions, which come between the Christian and the
source of all religious truth, could be thrown away.
Is
it really possible that GKC didn't understand this argument? His failure
to understand it would explain not only his remarks about democracy, but
the strange soft spot he harboured for the French Revolution, which was
directly inspired by Rousseau’s ideas. There may be some connection with
the tribal allegiance he had towards the Whig party. Be that as it may,
while democratic institutions are not necessarily Rousseauist, GKC’s
failure to understand the origin and drift of the democratic ideology
as Rousseau had formed it unfits him as a commentator on a wide range
of topics. What you don't understand you cannot, effectively, oppose.
My
third major problem is this. A major part of GKC’s Romantic imagination, which
attracted him to Christianity, was his ‘wonder’ at created things. This is
often brought up in treatments of GCK’s thought, and Orthodoxy has extended
discussions of it. GKC repeatedly says, against scientific rationalism, that
things could easily have been different, and that really it is quite miraculous
that even quite ordinary things around us exist as they do. He applies this
general view both to physics, saying that it is astonishing that the sun should
rise each morning, and only does so thanks to God, and also to morality, saying
that the basic principles of human action could so easily have been completely
different (in a chapter appropriately title ‘The Ethics of Elfland’).
It
tells us a lot about the state of Catholic education in the 20th
Century that this attitude of GKC has apparently never troubled his Catholic
supporters—either of his own day or of ours. GKC’s view here is based, whether
he realises it or not, on the twin Protestant principles (usually regarded as
rather extreme, on the scale of Protestantism) of Occasionalism (the heat from
the fire may be the occasion for the bread toasting, but really it is God
making it toast), and Divine Command Ethics (the obligation not to kill doesn’t
follow from the objective moral importance of human life, but merely from the
fact that God has chosen to forbid killing). These views were established in
conscious opposition to the thought of St Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas, and the
Aristotelian tradition which he incorporated into Catholic thought, holds that
while God can certainly intervene miraculously into the physical world, and can
certainly create new obligations for us by issuing commands, there is
nevertheless such a thing as a ‘law of nature’, in physics and morality alike. This
gives us, in the natural world, the important distinction between the natural
and the miraculous, and in morality between Natural Law and Divine Law. Both
distinctions seem to have disappeared in GKC.
I
have given three examples of GKC being apparently influenced by anti-Christian
or specifically anti-Catholic currents of thought, apparently without his
knowledge or comprehension. He does not necessarily endorse these ideas; if
they were laid out clearly, it is probable that he would reject them. The
problem is that he doesn’t see them, and their influence on the general thought
of the 20th Century, clearly. His work embeds them, and in that way
promotes and perpetuates them. In this way he is similar to many popular
writers of course, and this is partly why popular writers have to be treated
with caution, and tend not to have long-term influence.
My
conclusion is that the great enthusiasm for Chesterton to be found among
Catholics today is troubling. He obviously has his virtues, otherwise he would
not be as popular as he is; he has lots of good things to say, and says them in
a highly engaging way. I am myself a great fan of his poetry and the Fr Brown
books; he often seems to get to the heart of the matter. But at the end of the
day GKC is not a profound thinker, and worse than that he does not have
reliably Catholic instincts.
‘Orthodoxy’
was, in fact, written long before he became a Catholic, but it is constantly
reiterated that despite this is it is Catholic in spirit. No, it is not: its
spirit can be identified as combining Romanticism, Evangelical Protestantism, and
political Liberalism. The Romanticism brings the reverence for tradition. The
Evangelical Protestantism brings the awe-struck attitude towards God and
Creation. The political Liberalism brings a concern for the poor. In these
respects these things have affinities in Catholicism, but that doesn’t make
them Catholic, even in combination. On the contrary, they make GKC vulnerable
to some of the most dangerous trends in modern thought: Romanticism encourages
Pragmatism, an attitude of wishful thinking which even Evangelical Protestants usually
reject. Evangelical Protestantism brings in Occasionalism and Divine Command
Ethics, an attitude of anti-rationalism which even Political Liberals usually
reject. And Political Liberalism brings in a democratic ideology which
undermines the very respect for Tradition fostered by Romanticism. GKC has not
purified his respect for tradition of wishful thinking, he has not purified his
wonder and gratitude for creation of anti-rationalism, and he has not purified
his concern for the poor of the democratic ideology. Catholics, by contrast,
must do these things.
Hi Joseph,
ReplyDeleteA friend put me on to this post of yours because I am using Orthodoxy in a class I am teaching, basically Great Books in the Catholic Intellectual Tradition from the 17th century to today.
Everything you said here is a worthwhile concern, but I must disagree with you, or at least disagree that these are serious flaws in Chesterton, because of two things:
1) this is a work of apologetics, not as much as it is a commentary on the Creed, even though he does acknowledge that the Creed is his starting point.
2) as apologetics, it is directed against certain tendencies in his own culture that he thinks are deleterious and that he wants to dissuade people from.
You and I both know that he was an astute observer of the philosophical tendencies of his time. He was directing his exposition (his sales pitch, his reconsideration) of the Faith against materialists, against scientism, most of all. In this light we can say that he was making the case that it is okay, and even healthy and good, to acknowledge that there are important dimensions of life outside of the merely empirical. I don't take him to be trying to accomplish much more than that.
What you say about democracy, etc., is all true in the literal sense, but I think you have to acknowledge the basic point he is trying to make: that God directly, and indirectly through the world, has given us a law to which we can become privy, that we don't have to superimpose a theoretical and unnatural doctrine (probably Marxism, which sought to dispense with the family, and everything else good in nature) upon human culture in order to save it from itself.
In the end, he is not trying to close all the loopholes of Christianity, but to make a basic case for its reconsideration, which is what he realized he had to do.
Thanks for making me think about these things.
As it is I am quite happy that I chose Orthodoxy for my rather uninitiated students. It is a great bridging point between extreme secularism and Orthodoxy.
Well I'm glad I've give you something to think about. If there is anything to my criticisms, Chesterton's bridge doesn't lead to the Faith, but to something else.
ReplyDeleteColin,
ReplyDeleteYour comment makes me think of MacIntyre's account of emotivism in After Virtue. According to MacIntyre, the theory of emotivism was a reaction to the (plainly false) non-natural moral intuitionism of G.E. Moore; but the emotivists, because of their historical ignorance, thought that their reaction to "moral utterance at [Moore's] Cambridge" actually constituted a reaction to "moral utterance as such." So in a way, emotivism was an understandable response to the "great silliness" of G.E. Moore and his followers. But if the emotivists can be applauded for seeing the falseness of Moore's theory, it remains that their own alternative theory was just as (or even more) obviously false. It failed to get to the real root of Moore's error. Moore's false theory called for a response, but the emotivist response was a dead-end, another false, unenlightening theory, rather than a bridge to truth (orthodoxy, Christian faith, or whatever). So the question is whether some of GKC's responses to certain problems are genuine bridges to better understanding or rather dead-ends, failures to understand the roots of certain typical modern errors.
With the hope that we are not trying Joseph's patience, let me add that since the matter seems now to be one of "proof is in the pudding," I have little hesitance to say that, since this work of Chesterton's was singularly influential in bringing people to Christ a century ago, including none other than the most influential C.S. Lewis, Chesterton's methodology seems to be vindicated thereby. Now, since people have grown dumber since his time, it may have now outlived its usefulness... but that is another argument.
ReplyDeleteThat's a truly terrible argument.
ReplyDeleteC.S. Lewis acknowledged the positive influence heterodox writers like the Universalist, George McDonald, had on him when he was an atheist; that doesn't mean they weren't heterodox. Thomas Merton was drawn towards the Faith by James Joyce's depiction of Catholic culture. Arnold Lunn's materialism was shaken by the Idealism of Prof Huxley ('Darwin's Bulldog').
It all depends on where you are starting from.
Just so you know, I think your explanation of Rousseau's idea of democracy misses the mark. Its hard for your argument to seem legitimate when your explanation of other thinkers arguments use subtle means of persuasion to make them look bad. If you want, read that paragraph again and see if you can find what i'm talking about.
ReplyDeleteDemocracy expresses the truth that political authority is rooted in the people. This is what Chesterton means when he says that tradition is the democracy of the dead, that by paying attention to tradition we are respecting man's sovereignty, we are counting the vote of our forebears.
ReplyDeleteIntegralists believe that there is some contradiction between this sovereignty of man and the sovereignty of God.
They believe that if political authority is rooted in God it cannot at the same time be rooted in man.
But this integralist belief reflects a shallow anthropology, rather than the Christian anthropology whose witnesses are thinkers such as Aquinas, Chesterton, and St. John Paul II.
Chesterton's philosophy as enunciated in Orthodoxy is a profound defense of the rationality of the faith. Still the faith is a gift, and not something I can give to you through my reasonings. The evidence is Revelation, whose witness is the prophets and the apostles. Chesterton is not one of those shallow apologists who attempts to prove the faith by merely rational means.
ReplyDeleteOne could compare Orthodoxy to that other great work of apologetics Newman's Grammar of Assent. I as speaking particularly of the powerful part at the end where he speaks of the witness of the martyrs, to which his philosophical analysis of assent is preamble. This is indeed powerful and full of the power of the Word of God.
But Chesterton is also sublime and supernatural when he says "I have often fancied it was his mirth." This is also powerful and sublime.
Chesterton doesn't tell us that God's commandments could be turned inside out: Thou shalt kill, thou shalt commit adultery, thou shalt have strange God's before me.
ReplyDeleteHe does tell us that God's commandments are a fruit of his Will. So what does that mean then? It means that God's commandments are at root acts of love which guide and give a spiritual impulse to his people. They oblige, but they oblige from within.
Similarly when Chesterton tells us that it is something marvelous that the sun rises each morning, he is not denying the laws of nature, but he is telling us that there is something marvelous in the fact that there are laws of nature.
In this he his being a good Thomist. He is not an Occasionalist.
Regarding democracy, one ought to distinguish between democracy as a foundation for governance and a way of selecting public servants. In the first case, it is an ideology based on false principles such as the social contract and the notion that sovereignty comes from the people thus implying that all authority does not ultimately come from God.
ReplyDeleteAs someone who was brought back to the Catholic Faith, from which I had drifted away until encountering "Orthodoxy", I confess to a bias in favor of Chesterton's work. Nevertheless, I will endeavor to make concrete replies to some of your critiques.
ReplyDeleteFirst, while much of his argument for Christianity begins as pragmatic, he raises and transcends that point at the end of the book, as his imaginary agnostic asks him:
"Why can you not take the kernel of Truth in Christian orthodoxy, and leave the shell?"
Chesterton retorts that he cannot do that because he is a rationalist, and proceeds to charge the rationalist's cannons, capturing them, and reversing the direction of their favorite arguments on his shaken foes. Finally, he destroys their caricature of Christ as a weak character, coming to the triumphant conclusion that there was only one attribute "too great for God to show on this earth, "and I have sometimes fancied it was His mirth."...to be continued