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“Modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction”

Some comments on truth, tolerance, vulnerability and Erik Borgman’s lecture at COV&R 2007

 

 

SIMON DE KEUKELAERE

Email Simon.DeKeukelaere@UGent.be

 

“Relativization” and “the ambivalences of modernity”

In an article written in honour of Raymund Schwager René Girard once summarized one of his core convictions as follows:

Not only does the Judeo-Christian [tradition] hold a truth absent from all myths, but it alone knows that it possesses this truth. … Nietzsche was right here: no religion vindicates victims like the Judeo-Christian does. … It is impossible to think that in the religion of the Incarnation, this superiority could be independent of its religious dimension. (Girard 2001)

 

Girard dares to make this bold claim since he considers vindicating an unjustly accused victim—like the Judeo-Christian tradition does—to be superior to unjustly accusing one’s neighbour (simply because every one else does) and throwing him or her from a cliff, which—according to mimetic theory—is only one example of the many collective murders that founded human religions. The Bible and especially the gospels exhibit the founding event all the myths hide. That is why, in Girard’s view, the Judeo-Christian tradition is the only one of its kind, i.e. absolutely unique.

 

At the 2007 COV&R conference in Amsterdam Dutch theologian Erik Borgman objected to Girard’s claims about the uniqueness and superiority of the Judeo-Christian tradition, not because he believes those claims to be “too Christian”, but for exactly the opposite reason. According to the Dutch theologian those claims go against the way in which Christianity expresses even the “uniqueness” all the religions share.

 

Christianity is unique, of course, just as any other religion is unique, but the truth the Christian tradition claims to reveal is expressed in its relativization of even this uniqueness.  (Borgman 2007)

 

If we follow Borgman’s logic (“any other religion is unique”), we must conclude that every exemplar of the class “religion” is the only one of its kind. I do not think that this logical ambivalence bothers Borgman. His lecture in Amsterdam was after all a “theological plea for the return of the ambivalences of modernity”. Borgman makes this plea—not in order to get rid of Christianity, but—on the contrary—to stay fully Christian, suggesting that modernity, with all its ambivalences, is much better and more Christian than we think.

 

It is not my intention to criticize this view. It has already been defended a hundred years ago, and very convincingly so, by G.K. Chesterton. In chapter two of his masterpiece Orthodoxy Chesterton writes: “The modern world is not evil; in some ways the modern world is far too good.” (emphasis mine) Modernity has not been emptied of Christian virtues and values, as is often heard today. “The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad.”

 

It is very interesting, I think, to note that the most important example Chesterton gives to illustrate his thesis is the “dislocation” of the virtue of Christian humility. According to Chesterton humility moved from “the organ of ambition” to “the organ of conviction”.

 

Humility was largely meant as a restraint upon the arrogance and infinity of the appetite of man. … But what we suffer from to-day is humility in the wrong place. Modesty has moved from the organ of ambition. Modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction; where it was never meant to be. A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed. (Chesterton 1909)

 

Now, what has Chesterton to do with our discussion of Borgman’s lecture? In observing that “modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction” Chesterton really foresees today’s (post-) modern relativism and—more importantly—stresses its Christian roots, as Borgman does. Chesterton does not, however, explain why exactly modesty has settled upon the organ of conviction. Why this transplantation and not another one? I think mimetic theory can lend a hand to elucidate this question. The way in which it does will help us in our discussion of Borgman’s paper.

 

So, why has modesty moved to the organ of conviction? In a fascinating article in Contagion Gil Bailie wrote the following: “the term conviction is rooted in a community's unambiguous certainty regarding the moral wretchedness of its designated convict.” (Bailie 1997, 143)

 

According to mimetic theory the mob’s unanimous certainty has been mortally wounded on the cross. That is why we can no longer benefit from the “peace of the world” as we did before. The Judeo-Christian tradition initiated the deconstruction of our religious and cultural constructions build upon our rejected cornerstones, our mimetically designated ‘convicts’. 

 

So, thinkers like Borgman or Gianni Vatimo are right indeed when they suggest a correlation between Christianity and relativism. Yet, we need to define (set the limits) of what this connection exactly is, in order to know what it is not. As I suggested above, Christian doubt has a very precise target: the violent mob’s unanimous certainties.

Christianity is able to put these (false) convictions in question thanks to an opposite and true conviction, a head-strong, an uncompromising conviction coming from the cross: the innocence of the victim.

 

This firm and true conviction has a religious importance too. The Judeo-Christian tradition wants us to know that there is a difference between the “gods” we have fabricated ourselves and the God who has nothing to do with our violence. We cannot “relativize” this difference and the absolute uniqueness that goes with it in the name of Christianity. Doing so would indeed be a nice example of “a Christian virtue turned mad” or to use Bernanos reformulation of Chesterton’s phrase: une idée chrétienne devenue folle, a Christian idea gone mad.

 

Culturalism

In his abstract Borgman makes some interesting observations about the rise of “a new culturalism” (Borgman 2007a) in our world. To answer this rise the theologian pleads for a “return” to “the ambivalences of modernity”, as we have already noted above. Surprisingly his critique of “culturalism” applies to Girard. “In his proposed strategy to stop [today’s] tendency towards violence Girard is a culturalist.” (Borgman 2007a) And also: “To counter this, I will stress two aspects of the Christian tradition Girard virtually neglects.” (Borgman 2007a) The second aspect Girard neglects, according to Borgman, is “objective redemption”. With this term Borgman refers to the fact that “the foundation of our redemption is not our faith in it, but that what has happened in and through Jesus.” Firstly I do not see why Girard would object to the idea that what happened “in and through Jesus” is more important than our faith in it. Secondly I do not understand why it would not be possible to stress both ideas at the same time: a personal faith/thrust in Christ and the idea of objective redemption. And / and, not or / or.

 

Let us take a look now at the first aspect of the Christian tradition “Girard virtually neglects” according to Borgman: “Christianity is not a theory claiming to be absolutely true nor a culture propagating unflawed values. It is a religion stressing human dependence on Divine grace.” (Borgman 2007a)

 

According to Borgman this aspect of Christianity is overlooked by Girard. Yet, having read Girard, I am sure the French anthropologist would readily agree with the above statement. Christianity is certainly not a “culture” according to mimetic theory. Furthermore Girard has often underlined that Christianity is not a theory, nor a philosophy, but a religion. In Quand Ces Choses Recommenceront Girard recounts a meaningful anecdote. “One day [Foucault] told me that one should not make a philosophy of the victim. I replied: “Not a philosophy, indeed, but a religion! … but it already exists!” (Girard 1994, 112)

 

“Human dependence on Divine grace” is also one of Girard’s core convictions, a principle on which he often insists in his more recent books. If one thinks Girard does not repeat his thoughts on the subject enough than I could simply answer that Girard is not a theologian but an anthropologist.

 

So, in what sense could Girard still be a “culturalist”? Borgman quotes from a recent interview in which Girard says: “It is a culture war, yes” (Girard 2005). Since Borgman does not refer to the exact context in which Girard uttered those words and since the Dutch theologian links this idea to the so-called “clash of civilizations”: “The recent discussions on the ‘clash of civilizations’, not just on a global scale but also within the societies of the Western world, give rise to a new culturalism.” (Borgman 2007a – my italics) - one might come to believe that in Girard’s view you have a clash between the superior (?) West and the other cultures.

 

That is—however—not the case. In the interview the expression “culture war” refers to a clash within the west, a clash between sets of conflicting values, not a “clash of civilizations”. I quote from the interview with Gardels:

 

NPQ: Doesn’t Pope Benedict’s crusade against relativism […] announce a clash within the West? […] It is about resisting a culture of materialism and disbelief by insisting on values, as the Pope has put it, beyond "egoism and desire." Figuratively, the conflict is between the Pope and Madonna (the pop singer).

 

               Girard: It is a culture war, yes. I agree.

 

In the interview Girard also refers to the expressions “culture of life” and “culture of death”. But all this has, of course, nothing to do with the popular idea of the “clash of civilizations”. When Borgman accuses Girard of being a “culturalist” that is really a straw man argument, I think.

 

It is nevertheless relevant for our discussion to take a closer look at Borgman’s ideas on violence and culture. This is important because Borgman’s “theological plea” is grounded in anthropological observations on violence and culture. The fundamental question is thus whether or not these observations are anthropologically sound and can thus (or cannot) function as a solid basis for a “theological plea”.

 

When the Dutch theologian develops his anthropological ideas he discusses and applies mimetic theory. Hence Borgman is able to state that his opposition to Girard’s and Pope Benedict’s critique of relativism is “partly inspired by Girard’s theory.” At some point in his paper, when he discusses mimetic theory, violence and culture, Borgman indeed gives a fine critique of some modern presumptions about violence. In the second paragraph of this discussion he nevertheless writes something strange about the origin of violence: “Not a violent culture is at the origin of violence, but the very existence of culture, creating a realm of non-culture as its excluded opposite”. (Borgman 2007)

 

I agree with the first part of the above sentence and I assume that every culture somehow produces violence, especially when it thinks it opposes and cures violence. But the idea that “the very existence of culture” is “at the origin of violence” looks like a rather cheap resuscitation of an old assumption by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. When things go wrong culture is to blame: “the very existence of culture” is “at the origin of violence”. If mimetic theory has made anything clear than at least that this assumption is a myth. In Girard’s view, mimesis, not culture, is at the origin of violence (“Violence is a by-product of mimesis” Girard writes in The Girard Reader). It is not an insignificant detail, I think, that in Borgman’s (girardian?) analysis of violence and culture the problem of mimetic desire is never mentioned or discussed.

 

According to mimetic anthropology culture is not the cause of violence but on the contrary a way to “contain” violence (in the double sense of the word). After having named what is at the origin of violence Borgman adds what produces violence: “violence is produced by excluding people from civilization” (Borgman 2007). Apparently, at this point, Borgman tries to include Girard’s scapegoat-mechanism into his thinking on violence. Yet, in Girard’s theory, “excluding people from civilization” is not the starting-point but a violent consequence of violence, a temporary and unjust solution to it. A solution that founds and re-founds religions and cultures.

 

In Borgman’s view culture precedes violence. Since there is a culture / a civilization there will somehow be a need to exclude people from culture / civilization. Therefore the very existence of culture is at the origin of violence. This view is nevertheless very hard to defend, I think, especially today against the backdrop of the theory of evolution. Culture has not always been there. Did it fall from heaven and suddenly caused peaceful anthropoids to become violent beings? 

 

Tolerance

Even if its corroborating anthropology seems a little naïve to me, Borgman’s “theological plea for the return to the ambivalences of modernity” could still be defended as a well-meant recipe for tolerance and non-violence, necessary in our world today. This would be necessary since thinking out loud that the Judeo-Christian tradition is superior, like Girard does, will only cause offence to other religious groups and should thus be avoided.

 

According to this view Christians should practise the austere mortification of their core convictions and be able to sacrifice their Christian identity in the name of Christianity. Even though Borgman does not explicitly advocate this view of tolerance it seems his approach suits the aforementioned ascetical recommendations very neatly. So, in his eyes, it is not a very good thing to put too much stress on “the uniqueness and exclusivity of Jesus as redeemer” (Borgman 2007). Moreover Christianity will show “that it does not confess to a mythological image of the world and itself” in “its ability to transform and let go of its identity”. (Borgman 2007)

 

Girard would not agree with this view, I think. At the end of The Girard Reader he says: 

 

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” and he told his disciples to go into the world and make converts. If we give that up, are we still Christian? The idea that if we respect other religions more than our own and act only according to PC peace will break out all over the world is fantasy and delusion. ... As your faith grows, the more you empty yourself of rivalry and self-aggrandizement and the more you feel impelled to communicate to others, with others the truth you have experienced. (Girard 1996, 286-297)

 

Truth-claims do not fight, humans do. What I find interesting in the above quote is Girard’s reference to the Christian idea of kenosis. He stresses the importance of emptying oneself of “rivalry and self-aggrandizement”. It is very significant, in my view, that when Borgman refers to kenosis in his paper he does not refer to pride, rivalry, the Self or similar things, but to truth, to “the self-emptying movement truth has, according to the Christian tradition”. (Borgman 2007). In comparing Borgman’s application of the idea of kenosis to Girard’s application of it I am again reminded of Chesterton. When, in chapter two of orthodoxy, he writes about the virtue of humility gone mad Chesterton also adds this: “A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, but undoubting about the truth; this has been exactly reversed(Chesterton 1909)

In other words: the self-emptying should be applied to the self ([rivalry and self-aggrandizement as Girard puts it], not to truth.  

 

This idea of the “self-emptying movement truth has” is central to Borgman’s thesis, so we should take a closer look at it. Borgman highlights the importance of this peculiar kind of “kenosis”:

 

“As I see it, and as will hopefully become clearer in the course of this lecture, the paradoxical point of Christianity is […] its claim that truth [….] has taken on the form of relativity and weakness.” 

(Borgman 2007)

 

If you believe in the Incarnation truth has no doubt taken on the form of weakness in a particular (relative, not absolute) time, place and culture. To say that truth has taken on “the form of weakness” is however most visible on the Cross. In Paul’s famous hymn in Philippians Chapter 2 (from which the theological term “kenosis” is taken) the point of culmination of Christ’s “self-emptying” is the Cross. “[Christ] humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a Cross.” (Phil 2, 8) So, when one applies Borgman’s idea that “truth has taken on the form of weakness” to the crucifixion it becomes clear that the word “weakness” is maybe even a little too weak here. One could more accurately put it like this: “truth has taken on the form of the murdered one”.

 

Why is this nuance significant? Truth in person has been crucified, not because truth is intrinsically too weak or harmless, but because it is too strong for us, it could (and it will) deprive us of our most cherished cultural and personal belongings. Indeed, “when a strong man is fully armed and guards his courtyard, his possessions are safe. But when a stronger man attacks and overpowers him, he takes the weapons on which he was relying and divides up his loot.” (see Luke 11: 14-23)

 

Truth, even crucified truth, is not weak. Truth did not plan its own violent exclusion to please our postmodern sense of tolerance. The Christian truth has nothing to do with violence. Should we therefore call it “weak”? Would that not be lending too much prestige to violence after all?

 

Violence and the sacred

As we have already suggested above the Judeo-Christian revelation has initiated the deconstruction of some of our most cherished cultural possessions. One of the most important things the Cross has made impossible is the divinization of our mimetically designated ‘convicts’. We are still able to hate our scapegoats but we won’t turn them into gods anymore. That is what, according to Girard, Jesus’ words “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” (Luke 10, 18) refer to. Since we cannot divinize our victims any longer, the false transcendence has been chased from heaven. As Nietzsche famously exclaimed in the Antichrist : “Almost two-thousand years and no new god!”

 

This fact will not simply bring peace to the world, on the contrary. The action of the Cross has slowly but surely deprived us of the “peace of the world” that goes together with the divinization of our victims and the recreation of sacred order. That is why, according to Girard, Christianity does not promise immediate peace at all. That is what Girard suggest when he says “without religion societies go to the dogs” (quoted in Borgman 2007) “Satan falls from heaven”, indeed but he falls on earth, as Girard has often underlined. Since Satan can no longer cast out Satan mimetic disorder will no longer automatically recreate order. There is no human solution to our crises anymore, no magic potion, no “pharmakon”. That is why the “lack of conviction” in our world has apocalyptic consequences, in the sense of revelation but also in the sense of violence. This idea is strikingly suggested in one of William Butler Yeats most famous poems: The Second Coming:           

 

                   …
                   Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
                   Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
                   The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
                   The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
                   The best lack all convictions, while the worst
                   Are full of passionate intensity.
                   
                   Surely some revelation is at hand.
                   … 

 

Gil Bailie’s luminous commentary on the term “conviction” I quoted above was in fact part of a larger commentary on (two verses from) this poem. Here we quote from Bailie’s article more fully:

 

[The term] conviction is rooted in a community's unambiguous certainty regarding the moral wretchedness of its designated convict. What [Yeats] did see was that the "best" no longer enjoyed the moral luxury of that conviction, while the "worst" still did. Yeats' mistake—the misrecognition that lends post-modern deconstruction its moral plausibility—is that he thought of the two categories as political and moral opposites. With the help of the vine and branches discourse [in John] and Girard's mimetic theory, however, we are able to see the mutually intensifying relationship—at both the social and psychological level—between the lack of conviction and passionate intensity. (Bailie 1997, 143-144)

 

It is important to stress this mutually intensifying relationship between the “lack of conviction” and the “passionate intensity”. Since Borgman’s perspective lacks this anthropological realism, his interpretation of the logion “I see Satan fall…” is far too optimistic, in my view: 

 

The logion about Satan falling like lightning from heaven, has to be understood in the same way as the vision at the end of the book Revelation:

 

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth are passed away; and the sea is no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven of God, made ready as a bride adorned for her husband (Rev. 20, 1-2).

 

                   […]

 

Satan did not fall from heaven once and for all when Jesus died on the cross, and does not have to be kept from but falls every time an excluded person is included again, a silenced voice is speaking and being heard, a victimized person is erected and regaining dignity, a killed person resurrected and coming to life again. (Borgman 2007)

 

The addition “like lightning” suggests a sudden fall, I think, rather than the at once repetitive (“Satan … falls every time an excluded person is included again”) and slowly continuous thing Borgman describes: “Satan is in the process of falling from heaven.” (Borgman 2007). As I suggested, it is more consistent to link the logion about Satan falling, to Nietzsche’s exclamation “Almost two thousand years and no new god!” without forgetting Girard’s idea that the fact that we can no longer divinize our victims also means that “the peace of the world” will forever flee us. Satan has fallen … on earth.

 

Borgman misses this point, I believe, since there is too much of an “ideology of the victim” in his view. So the theologian writes:

 

“Redemption can only mean that no-one will be excluded and everybody is part of the good life.” (Borgman 2007)

 

And also:

 

God is with those excluded, that is the ultimate claim of the Christian tradition. But the point of being a Christian is not believing with an absolute faith that this is absolutely true, but that what is truly absolute is found with what is excluded. (Borgman 2007, my emphasis)

 

I have some difficulties with the conclusion of the above quote: “what is truly absolute is found with what is excluded.” This sentence encapsulates most of the caricatures of Christianity in our world. In I see Satan Girard suggested that “le souci moderne des victimes” is the only absolute in our post-modern world. “What is truly absolute is found with what is excluded”. If we heed this maxim then even the most resentful and asinine causes will gain credibility and prestige as long as its champions will come forward as “the excluded”.

It would be a good thing, I believe, if Christians kept in mind Niezsche’s idea of the slave-morality and his critique of Christianity as the religion of resentment. Niezsche undoubtedly took the caricature for the real thing. Christians should be careful not to make the same mistake. 

 

 

REFERENCES

 

Bailie, G. 1997. “The Vine and the Branches Discourse: The Gospel’s Psychological Apocalypse.” In Contagion  4 (Spring): 120-146

 

Borgman, E. 2007.  The Weak Presence of Grace.A Theological Plea for the Return to the Ambivalences of Modernity. COV&R 2007 Paper

 

Borgman, E. 2007a.  The Weak Presence of Grace.A Theological Plea for the Return to the Ambivalences of Modernity. COV&R 2007 Abstract

 

Chesterton, G. K., 1993. Orthodoxy. Ignatius Press, San Francisco

 

Girard, R. with Oughourlian, J-M. & Lefort, G., 1987b. Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World. Translated by S. Bann and M. Metteer. Stanford University Press, Stanford, Ca.

 

Girard, R. Quand ces choses commenceront, entretiens avec Michel Treguer. Arléa, diffusion Le Seuil, Paris

 

Girard, R., 1996. The Girard Reader. Edited by James G. Williams. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1996.

 

Girard, R. 1999. Je vois Satan tomber comme l’éclair. Grasset, Paris

Girard, R. 2001. Celui par qui le scandale arrive. Desclée de Brouwer, Paris

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