It is fascinating when disparate events come together in a moment that sheds more light on each of them. Ben Myers’ latest post includes an analysis of an essay by Chantal Mouffe that relates to our class discussion today about the Catch-22 in which Holland finds itself (background: the murder of Theo Van Gogh and the threats against Ayaan Hirsi Ali). The Catch-22 is the problem with consistent application of the Principle of Toleration, a hallmark of Dutch civil society.

By the way, if you like philosophy, then you ought to treat yourself to Bill Vallicella’s site. Wherein one finds gems of analysis like this:

It is worth dwelling on the logical ineptitude of ”. . . one’s views are not to be imposed on others.” This is an example of self-vitiating sentential self-reference. For if one’s view are not to be imposed on others, then the very view that one’s views are not to be imposed on others is not to be imposed on others. It follows that one must tolerate, and is in no position to oppose, those who maintain the view that some views are to be imposed on others.

Okay, the bit from Ben Myers’ post that I found especially helpful was this:

Mouffe rightly sees that the fundamental church/state separation (which simply designates the state’s monopoly on coercive violence) is not equivalent to the religion/politics distinction, much less to the private/public distinction.

It was just such a distinction that we were groping for in class today when attempting to analyze what the politician Wilders was suggesting by his claim that he wanted to “make the film and see what reaction it creates.” Of course, the reaction Wilders seeks is two-fold. First, he wants all Muslims, including and especially moderate ones, to express outrage and to react with enough violence sprinkled in to further exclude Islam from Dutch public life. That will happen because of the second reaction, that of the non-Muslim Dutch population. Wilders is skillfully propagandizing with an inflammatory movie in order to (a) increase his own and his Freedom Party’s profile and power in parliament and (b) have the citizens make life more difficult for all Muslims, hopefully running most of them out of Holland, so that the apparatus of the state doesn’t have to. So, using the discourse of deliberative democracy (“let’s support free speech and get a dialogue going about this issue”), he is seeking to reinforce the mosque/state separation of Dutch society, which increases the state’s grip on coercive force. (It is a rather simple matter to turn the example to the question of church/state separation.) The remedy to the virus of demagoguery on this matter seems to be, then, as Mouffe points out, that the struggle for freedom, peace and justice must include religious participation and occasional intervention, at least as the debates go on in a democracy. So the religion/politics distinction is the more basic and one which certainly doesn’t presuppose the anti-social private/public distinction. And this, too, I think, helps to formulate some tests for the necessary limits upon tolerance; i.e., given that a healthy political climate includes conditions a, b, and c, the point at which the state must intervene intolerantly can be discerned with due respect for reason and liberty.

Now these reflections are all coalescing at the same time I run across Dear Old Sven’s favorable linkage to Michael Pahl’s review of the Wright-Barclay exchange at SBL last week. (NB: this “Michael Pahl” is not the same person as “Rev. Michael J. G. Pahls”.) It seems that both Steven and Michael are worried about what they perceive to be Wright’s overemphasis of the significance of Empire in Paul’s theology. It is interesting to me that whether one is worried or not by Wright’s analysis of Paul’s anti-imperialism, one cannot escape the fact that one is performing political theology of one’s own in doing so. Therefore—if one has a high view of Scripture—one cannot frontload the outcome to ensure that the significance of one’s political theology underwrites and certifies a desired conclusion, such as “the American political experiment is that form of government which best embodies what the New Testament teaches” (or, for that matter, the negation of the above). I’m not so worried about Wright’s emphasis of Paul’s anti-imperialist gospel, if that is what the text best supports. What Wright fans do with that (become strident anti-Americanists) is of no consequence. The other essential factor, it seems to me, is how well or how poorly whatever political dimension there is to Paul’s gospel integrates with the gospels themselves. For example, suppose we were to actually take seriously the Magnificat? While we’re debating about Mary’s most favored status, is there not political significance to her hymn?

(...) he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
(...) he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.

I think there is quite a lot to Wright’s contention that we do dis-integrate the gospels into kingdom/this-world bits over there and salvation/atonement/other-world bits over here. I think we gloss right over the Magnificat, made all the more bourgeois when we dress up and go hear it performed in the concert hall after a nice candlelight dinner. And this is why I also like Ben’s earlier post quoting Kierkegaard against Bible reading.