St Andrews Day

No-one at this morning’s graduation ceremony at the University of St Andrews could have failed to realise that the ceremony was being held on St Andrews Day - thanks to the many reminders in the First Minister’s speech to graduates, their families and the members of the University in the Younger Hall.

Scotland has, in fact, four patron saints: Saints Andrew, Columba, Margaret and Palladius. Their personal histories shrouded, to differing extents, lends them an air of mystery.  If any story is commonly known it is likely to be Andrew’s role as a disciple of Jesus. Columba’s part in the early conversion of Scots to Christianity might be re-told in a few circles but Margaret (wife of Malcolm III Canmore of Scotland), may be remembered for her work for justice and improved conditions for the poor by only the historically literate and pupils attending schools named after her (e.g. in Aberdeen or Edinburgh) or patients and families benefiting from the hospice named after her in Clydebank. Palladius, an evangelist to the Picts in the early Fifth Century can be charitably termed ‘obscure’ [see The Patron Saints Index].

They each have their memorial days so we ought to have national holidays on not only 30th November but also on 9th June (Columba), 7th July (Palladius), and 16th November (Margaret). These saints’ days cluster a bit too much so maybe we need to find new patron saints that will disperse national holidays a bit more evenly throughout the year. On the other hand, there are perhaps more important reasons for choosing inspirational figures then securing another holiday.

Democratisation

Regulars to the CSRP (Centre for the Study of Religion & Politics) weekly seminar who weren’t around the campus today missed a vibrant presentation by Dr Andrea Teti (an alumnus of St Andrews and now lecturing in International Relations at the University of Aberdeen). He introduced us to one of his current works in progress: “Orientalist roots of ‘Transitology’: organising knowledge and producing moral geographies of democratisation in the Middle East”.

I won’t attempt to rehearse his argument because I wouldn’t do it justice. What I can say is that once again it’s come home to just how important inter-disciplinary conversation is if some of us are going to attempt practical theology. It doesn’t just broaden our horizons but it disciplines us to engage with the questions that colleagues are asking rather than letting theology try to set the agenda. That needn’t mean that we stick with the questions framed by our colleagues and it was envigorating today to find some common cause with Andrea in questioning the questions that cultural theorists are posing.

After hearing Andrea unpack many dimensions of the ways that the Western mindset attempts to handle (and somehow impose) its expectations of those its seeking to ‘democratise’ I’m left wondering about any parallels within my own field of practical theology.  In other words, what are the politics of ‘practical theology’ (the discipline)? I’m not thinking about the party allegiances, if any, of particular exponents but rather of the political nature inherent within current models of practical theology.  It’s not going to be as simple as zooming in on liberationist models. I sense another article coming on but I’m sure someone will have begun to write about this. I’m looking forward to digging around as I’ve no idea at the moment.  

‘Free speech’ at Oxford Union, contd.

Thinking a bit more about the debacle in Oxford the other evening I’m beginning to see it as a microcsm of contemporary society. There’s a conflict within many opinion formers between their longing for a liberal society (in which the state is neutral on morality) and their repugnance at the notion that someone might be ‘offended’. What in effect appears to happen is that ‘taking offence’ sometimes takes priority - but by-standers still want a neutral public square in which freedom (of speech) is paramount. As a consequence, and in the absence of a ‘common good’, freedom to ‘be offended’ validates individuals’ action that restricts others’ speech.

The threat is not state suppression of free speech but unilateral, individualised, even anarchic responses. The irony is that this is in an attempt to protect free speech by inhibiting it. Ian Markham argues in his Plurality and Christian Ethics that the secular anti-realist can be informed but not enhanced; can listen but not share. The secularist is forced to reduce differences to simply ‘different cultural ways of looking at the world’ – there can be no mutual respect (p.159).

I find his approach broadly persuasive, not least because he articulates a religiously-conscious polity that does not rush to foreclose debate but, on principle, holds to a religious plurality because our shared quests for higher truth are never complete and require the continual possibility of insights from others.

How would that have made the spectable in Oxford any different? At least it might have avoided some of the confusion about the supposed secular neutrality that is used to underpin freedom of speech. It might have offered some prospect of holding the tension between speech-rights and ‘the right not to be offended’. A rational theist polity could have, perhaps, made the issue of mutuality much more central.

Putting that way still spooks me. It seems to marginalise secularists - but - and it’s a big caveat - the theism is not one that is narrow, closed and anti-secularist. If it can be sufficiently open to welcome secularists - but not let them set all the rules of the game - it could be productive. This form of theism is not the one we most readily encounter so I think I’m still very hesitant. Nevertheless, Markham’s proposal is more robust than the naive secularism that appears to have played a part in the Oxford media-circus.

‘Free speech’ at Oxford Union

Last night’s event in Oxford where David Irving and Nick Griffin were amongst the speakers has generated a lot of comment on the Guardian’s website [here]. The meeting was disrupted by protestors objecting to invitations having been given to these men to speak. The relative significance and extent of the violence of the protestors is seen differently by commentators but all in all it appears to have been a bit of a media spectacle.

Much of the website discussion revolved around ‘free speech’ and how misunderstandings of it can give a prestigious (and highly publicised) platform to those with repugnant views - and in some cases, to advocate anti-free speech policies. On the whole, the protestors get a hard time for turning Irving and Griffin into ‘victims’ of anti-free speech strong-arm tactics.

What this episode tells us is that it is nigh on impossible to wholly disentangle reasoned debate, rabble-rousing, assertions rather than argumentation, a 24/7, instantaneous-media agenda, publicity-seeking and probably a few other factors.  There’s a complex, deadly serious game at play - with some players more adept than others; and in which no-one really shares a common rule-book.

The tidy categories that academics and theoriticians love simply don’t have traction on the ground. That goes for theological responses too of course. I think I want to come back to this topic and see if I get some practical theological perspective on this new combination of factors.