Religion and Human Rights (33): Christianity and Human Rights

Nowadays, when religion is viewed through the lens of human rights, the subject of discussion is most often Islam and the rights violations it is supposed to produce. Other religions seem almost unproblematic in comparison. Some even claim that human rights are the heritage of the Christian West. That’s not entirely fair to Islam, and neither is it a correct description of Christianity or of the history of human rights. Both Islam and Christianity can be criticized from the perspective of human rights. It’s about time that Christianity receives some of the same scrutiny that is heaped on Islam on a daily basis.

First, though, let’s list some arguments for the defense. Many aspects of Christianity are beneficial to human rights. For example, there’s a long tradition of pacifism in Christianity (in some Christian churches more than others, and in theory more than in practice). That’s based on the quote from the sermon on the mount about showing the other cheek. Poverty and charity as well are prominent in Christian teaching (for example in the parable of the good Samaritan). Also important from the perspective of human rights is the teaching of the equality of all human beings: we are all created in the image of God, we’re all sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Hence differences between races, genders, nationalities etc. are contingent and morally irrelevant. And there’s of course the sacredness of human life. Finally, belief in hell – to the extent that this is still a part of present-day Christian faith – is associated with lower crime rates (I assume the fear of punishment in the afterlife limits deviance in this life).

However, it’s just as easy to cite arguments for the prosecution. First, the noble principles just cited were rarely respected. And secondly, there are a lot of other principles that are incompatible with human rights. Like all monotheistic religions, Christianity has universalist pretensions: the Christian God is the God of all, and non-believers are mistaken, even sinfully mistaken. They need to be brought within the right faith. Hence missionary work, colonialism, religious wars and other forms of aggressive proselytizing. All such activities can and often do violate human rights.

As a result of this universalism, freedom of religion is only grudgingly accepted if at all, as is the separation between church and state. Its universalist pretensions often justify coercive means, including the state, as a means to impose Christian teachings (the issue of gay marriage is only one example). It also seems that, theoretically at least, Christians can’t accept democratic decisions that go against the will of God, and are morally obliged to revolt against such decisions. Politics is the handmaiden of religion, and political rights are only contingently secure, i.e. they are secure as long as their results conform to the will of God and as long as Christians don’t believe that its practical and feasible to impose this will when rights deviate from it. Anti-abortion terrorism comes to mind.

Publicity and appearance are important parts of human rights. Different human rights protect the public appearance of a diversity of opinions, beliefs and identities, and their discursive interaction. That’s the idea of the marketplace of ideas. Christianity, however, doesn’t like publicity, for a variety of reasons. First, the relationship to God is more important than relationships between people, and the afterlife is more important than earthly life in community. There’s a strong sense of detachment from the affairs of this world, although this sense was more common in early Christianity. The hidden and the mysterious are valued more than the discursive, ostentatious life of public debate.

Appearance is not only of secondary importance, but also morally dubious. Christianity rejects seeing and being seen. To be good is the supreme value, but goodness must hide itself. When good works become public, they loose some of their goodness because they are no longer done simply for their goodness but for honor, appreciation etc. (as Arendt reminded us). In this respect, there are some similarities between the saint and the criminal.

To the extent that public debate is valued, it isn’t because of the importance of the marketplace of ideas, a major justification of human rights. Free speech doesn’t serve the exchange of arguments, public reasoning or the improvement of the quality of thinking. It only serves to proselytize, to distribute the truth, and this truth is given before public discourse even takes place. Belief is revealed and contemplated individually and in solitude, and is not the product of discussion or debate. Contemplation of God does not even require company, let alone debate. In the words of Tertullian : “nec ulla magis res aliena quam publica” (“nothing is more strange to us than public matters”).

This rejection of the public space in favor of the mysterious, of individual contemplation and of the afterlife, can result in political acquiescence. The powers-that-be are accepted, even if they are cruel and oppressive, since true salvation comes only after death. (That’s Marx’ famous criticism).

And there are other points of criticism: notwithstanding the equality of all human beings as children of God, women are responsible for the original sin, and the Jews for the murder of Christ. And even if everyone is an equal son or daughter of God, that means that everyone is fit for salvation. Which in turn means that you have to go to the far ends of the world to convert the heathens, for their own good.

A mixed record, to say the least.

Other posts in this series are here.

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The Ethics of Human Rights (72): Who’s Responsible for Helping the Poor?

If you’re a heartless cynic, you’ll reply “no one” or “that they help themselves” when asked who should help the poor. If not, you’ll probably offer one of three answers:

  1. Those who caused poverty are responsible for ending it. The main champion of this line of thought is Thomas Pogge who we’ve mentioned before on this blog.
  2. Those who can end poverty are responsible for ending it. Who caused poverty and how is really not important. Here it’s Peter Singer who is the main proponent. (I also mentioned him before).
  3. Those who are in a special relationship with poor people are responsible for helping them. The best known representative of this view is David Miller.

The problem is that all three answers sound appealing and yet they are mutually incompatible in some respects. At the same time they seem incomplete without each other. Let’s look at the pros and cons of each answer before dealing with the relationships between them.

Answer 1 focuses on causation: those who caused poverty are responsible for ending it. And Pogge has argued very successfully that all poverty as it currently exists in the world is to a large degree if not entirely caused by the actions of people and institutions:

The existing global trading regime contributes to the perpetuation of poverty through the asymmetrical market opening that took place in the 1990s. Poor countries still do not enjoy unfettered access to our markets and are still hampered by anti-dumping duties, quotas and very high subsidies, for instance on agricultural products and textiles. Not only do these subsidies make poor countries’ products uncompetitive on rich countries’ markets. They also hamper poor countries’ products in other markets because they allow the rich countries to undersell these products everywhere. By upholding a global economic order that grandfathers the rich countries’ right to impose such protectionist measures into the global trading system, the rich countries greatly contribute to the persistence of the world poverty problem. (source)

Pogge also claims, convincingly, that focusing on the causes of poverty delivers a stronger account of duty. The negative duty to right a wrong for which you are responsible is stronger than the positive duty to help irrespective of whether you’re responsible for the predicament of those you have to help. It does seem to be a widespread moral intuition that the negative duty not to harm, to prevent harm and to rectify harm once you’ve done it is at least more urgent and perhaps also more important than the positive duty to do good. The latter duty is central in answer 2. The idea that we should help because we caused harm seems to carry more weight than the idea that we should help simply because we can.

And yet, there’s a competing intuition that we should help because others have needs, whether or not we are responsible for those needs. So answer 1 doesn’t seem obviously superior to answer 2. In defense of answer 2, Singer gave the example of the drowning child in a famous 1972 paper. Nobody would condone your failure to help a drowning child because you weren’t the one who threw her in the pond. The simple fact that you pass by and that you can help at a minimal cost to yourself is sufficient to ground a duty to help. Poverty, according to Singer, is the same, even if it is poverty far away: the minority of wealthy people in the word can end poverty at a small cost to themselves. We should help people if we can and it doesn’t matter why people need help or who caused the problem in the first place.

If you wish, you can listen to his argument here:

He obviously explains it better than I can.

So we have two strong and seemingly incompatible intuitions here. The advantage of answer 1 is that it appeals to our understanding that negative duties are more urgent. Hence, focusing on causation and personal responsibility can, in theory, accelerate the struggle against poverty. We are more likely to act if we are convinced that we did something wrong.

The advantage of answer 2, on the other hand, is that it renders discussions about the facts of responsibility moot. Indeed, Pogge’s case about the West’s responsibility for poverty in the world is strong but not watertight. One can argue that people are partly responsible for their own poverty, or that local governments and natural conditions are also to blame. Hence, paradoxically, answer 1 can delay effective action because responsibilities first need to be attributed, and that is inherently controversial. Answer 2 then suddenly seems the more effective approach. Furthermore, answer 2 is able to deal with poverty that has no human causes: answer 1 seems unable to force action against poverty caused by natural forces.

And then there’s answer 3 making things even more complex. Answer 1 and 2 also accept that some people have greater duties than others – those who are responsible and those who can help respectively – but answer 3 takes this notion a step further. Those who are in a special relationship to the poor have greater duties to help. Part of the reason for this claim is that a relationship often yields a larger remedial capacity. Parents are better able than strangers to help their children because they have a special relationship with their children: they know them, care more for them, are closer and understand them better. The same can be said for national, linguistic or ethnic communities, according to David Miller. He speaks about “solidaristic communities” where people identify themselves as fellow members sharing a culture or beliefs with other members. This makes distributions easier and more effective.

It’s now the turn of answer 3 to claim to be the more effective one. And indeed, distance does play a role, not only in the effectiveness of actions but also in the willingness to help. Even Singer accepts the latter fact. We may want to change the facts but that takes time. In the meantime, it may be better to count on solidarity within groups than on the duties defended by answers 1 and 2.

It seems to be a widespread intuition that we can give extra weight to the interests of those close to us. This does not imply that we are allowed to neglect the world’s poor, but it does mean that our efforts to help them should not be at the expense of those close to us, including ourselves. If we have a duty to give, then this duty is limited by what we need for ourselves and for those close to us.

So, this concludes the description of different answers to the question in the title of the blog post. The relationship between these answers is a difficult one. They seem incompatible: either we look for those responsible for harm and force them to remedy; or we look for those who can offer a remedy and force them to act; or we look inside solidaristic communities. The duty bearers will sometimes be the same according to all three answers, and then there’s no problem if one, two or three justifications of their duties are successful in forcing them to act. But it can happen that the duty bearers are different people in the three different answers, and then there’s a problem. And we shouldn’t underestimate the probability of this. I personally tend to favor answer 2, but I don’t really have a good argument for this.