Category Archives: Justice

Paul Redekop. Changing Paradigms: Punishment and Restorative Discipline

Paul Redekop. Changing Paradigms: Punishment and Restorative Discipline. Herald Press, 2008.

I like the basic argument of this book very well. A Canadian Mennonite peace educator and practitioner has taken on a tremendously important topic: how do we respond to harm-doing without adding to the cycle of harm? And he states a clear point of view, that punishment (by definition a form of violence) is never appropriate. And he seeks to follow the logic of this point of view wherever it takes him–challenging the use of on corporal punishment on children, the use of retributive approaches to criminal justice, and the justification of international violence (i.e., warfare).

On the positive side, Redekop draws the insights of the restorative justice movement to articulate concrete alternatives to dealing with harm-doing in ways that do indeed promise to bring about genuine healing. His proposals may seem utopian, but they are based on actual human experience and are carefully thought through. Given the dead end road we are on with our dynamics of punishment and spirals of violence, he presents us with bases for hope that change may be possible.

I am delighted to see such a thoughtful and internally consistent presentation of this perspective. Though Redekop does not engage theology very seriously (and this is a problem), he frames his argument from within the Christian peace church tradition and its interpretation of the Bible. Sadly, Redekop’s Mennonite tradition with its generations long profound and lived-out opposition to state violence has nonetheless not been very self-aware about the damaging punitive practices toward its own children that have undermined its witness. Redekop alludes briefly to his own punishment-drenched up-bringing in a Mennonite family. And it’s great that he makes these connections–an exercise in self-awareness still pretty rare among the Mennonites I know and know of.

I do wish Redekop had been able to engage theology more deeply, but he at least gives theologians some impetus to test and expand his argument.

I do have one stronger criticism. I am sorry to say that I found the writing style to be uninspiring. The book has an exciting story to tell, but does not tell it in an engaging way. I had to plow on through most of the book. So my recommendation will be qualified. I fear people who are not already disposed to appreciate Redekop’s thinking here may find the book fairly tedious going and may lose patience. I hope not, though, because there is much wisdom and new thinking here.

Adam Hochschild. Bury the Chains

Adam Hochschild. Bury the Chains: Prophets and Rebels in the Fight to Free an Empire’s Slaves. Houghton-Mifflin, 2005.

Adam Hochschild has told us an engaging and dramatic story with tremendous significance for our present day. As Hochschild points out, in 1787, “well over three quarters of all people alive were in bondage of one kind or another, not the captivity of striped prison uniforms, but of various systems of slavery or serfdom.”  He states that just as “such a world would, of course, be unthinkable today” it was, “to most people then, unthinkable that it could ever be otherwise” (page 2).

That date, 1787, is important for Hochschild’s story because on May 22 of that year a group of twelve people met together in London, England, to begin a movement that would within twenty years lead to the British Empire ending the slave trade and within another thirty years lead to the actual abolition of slavery throughout the Empire.

This group of twelve included ten Quakers, continuing the anti-slavery concerns that long characterized many in that community, and two others, both Anglicans. One, Granville Sharp, was for many years a crusader for various social justice causes, known to be a bit eccentric. The twelfth man, the central hero of Hochschild’s narrative, was a young man studying for the ministry named Thomas Clarkson.

In his studies at Cambridge, Clarkson entered an essay contest, and prepared, as an academic exercise, a piece arguing against the slave trade. What began as an exercise in debate soon came to possess Clarkson’s soul. Initially, he later wrote, “I had no motive but that which other young men in the University had on such occasions; namely the wish of obtaining literary honor.” The more he learned, though, the more horrified he became. “In the day-time I was uneasy. In the night I had little rest. I sometimes never closed my eye-lids for grief.”

Clarkson won the top prize with his essay. His finished his studies, set to begin what seemed likely to be a successful career in the ministry. But, as he reported later, slavery “wholly engrossed my thoughts. I became at times very seriously affected while upon the road. I stopped my horse occasionally, and dismounted and walked. I frequently tried to persuade myself in these intervals that the contents of my Essay could not be true….If the contents of the Essay were true, it was time some person should see these calamities to their end.” Hochschild suggests that this day in June 1785 when Clarkson struggled with the need for “some person” to fight slavery “is a landmark on the long, tortuous path to the modern conception of universal human rights.”

Clarkson continued to wrestle with his grief and passion. “Could a lone, inexperienced young man have ‘that solid judgment…to qualify him to undertake a task of such magnitude and importance;—and with whom was I to unite?’ But each time he doubted, the result was the same: ‘I walked frequently into the woods, that I might think on the subject in solitude, and find relief to my mind there. But there the question still recurred, “Are these things true?”—Still the answer followed as instantaneously “They are.”—Still the result accompanied it, “Then surely some person should interfere.”‘ Only gradually, it seems, did it dawn on him that he was that person” (pages 89-90).

Once Clarkson became clear on his task, though, he took it on with a depth of commitment and effectiveness rarely matched in all of the history of human efforts for justice. The rest of his long life was devoted to this work–and he lived to see it come to fruition.  Clarkson died in 1846 at the age of 86, eight years after the abolition of slavery in the British Empire. Shortly before Clarkson’s death he received a visit from American abolitionists Frederick Douglass and William Lloyd Garrison who recognized his greatness in the cause.

Quakers play only a peripheral role in Hochschild’s story (unfortunately), but he does make a point to mention several times in the course of the book the Quaker tradition of Quaker men never removing their hats while in the presence of powerful people. This sets up the concluding sentences of the book, an account of Clarkson’s funeral. “In both the funeral procession and the overflowing church where the service was held, the mourners included many Quakers, and the men among them made an almost unprecedented departure from long-sacred custom. They removed their hats” (page 354).

This book is much needed tonic today for anyone today who trembles at the thought of successfully resisting the forces of violence and injustice that seem so overwhelming. Hochschild probably wisely sticks simply to telling the story. I would have liked more analysis of the processes of abolition (when the final legislation is passed, we get only a cursory account of the action). I also would have liked more attention to the role of the Quakers who were central to the effort. However, the story of the perseverance, the numerous set-backs, the extraordinary suffering of the Empire’s slaves, and the ultimate success against overwhelming odds is well told and carries its own power.

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The Gift of the Law—Exodus 20

Here is the seventh in a series of Bible studies that present the Bible as being in the side of pacifism. In this essay, “The Gift of the Law,” I reflect on the Ten Commandments as an introduction to Old Testament law. I focus on the commandment, “thou shall not murder” and its implications for pacifism. I suggest that its relevance lay not so much in setting out an absolute command to be pacifists as in establishing that God is the author of life, not human beings, and that the significance of this understanding evolves eventually to lead to clarity about pacifism by the time of Jesus.

Andrew Skotnicki. Criminal Justice and the Catholic Church

Andrew Skotnicki. Criminal Justice and the Catholic Church. Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2008.

Andrew Skotnicki sets out a Catholic theory of criminal justice that is humane and redemptive. He argues that the fundamental issue underlying criminal justice practices is whether or not Christ is seen in the criminal.  If he is not, abuses are inevitable.  If he is, we have hope that the criminal justice process may be redemptive.

Catholic approaches to criminal justice need to be grounded in a Catholic anthropology that understands each human being to be of inestimable value—value that is not diminished even by criminal behavior. Punishment has traditionally been justified on two grounds that stand in tension with each other: (1) “that punishment by lawful authority is both just and necessary for those who have freely chosen to disrupt the harmony established within and intended by God for creation” and (2) “that punishment does not achieve its true meaning until it arises from within and is willed by the offender, that is, until it becomes self-punishment” (p. 35).  One way to characterize Skotnicki’s agenda in the book is a whole is that he seeks to hold these two points together.

In the fourth and longest chapter, “Prison as the Normative Means and Punishment,” Skotnicki tells the fascinating story of the origins of long-term imprisonment as a form of punishment in monastic prisons.  The justification for the monastic prisons was confidence in the redemptive possibilities of penance.  To reflect on one’s sins while spending time in isolation provided the path to acknowledgment of the sins, repentance, and reconciliation with God and the community.

Skotnicki concludes with an outline of what he calls “A Catholic Theory of Criminal Justice.”  Here he catches up his historical analysis, his theological commitments, and his (brief) critique of present practices in our society.  The goal of criminal justice should center on wholeness—for society, for victims, and for offenders.  Imprisonment plays in important role in this quest for wholeness, both by honoring justice and order and by playing a crucial role in “atonement” (the reconciling of the offender with God and with the human community).  Perhaps the most distinctive element of Skotnicki’s theory lies in his strong emphasis on the efficacy of confinement as a means of bringing about repentance.

Skotnicki’s reminder that when offenders are not treated as full human beings “all hell breaks loose” continues to be timely and needed. Some questions remain, though.

(1) Despite the seriousness of this topic and Skotnicki’s obviously deep concern that our society’s criminal justice practices turn away from the abyss of unrestrained and dehumanizing retribution, the book’s tone reflects a surprising lack of urgency.  Skotnicki doesn’t engage in any detail the absolute crisis in our criminal justice system where the “cure” of an utterly heartless lock-’em-up without mercy approach to crime has greatly deepened the “disease” of violence and alienation in our society.  His theory, attractive as it may be, would gain in credibility and relevance were it formulated with more overt attention to our social context.

(2) I appreciate Skotnicki’s attempt to hold together the emphases on seeing Christ in the prisoner and the validity of autonomous retributive justice.  By insisting on the Christ-presence (and with it, the absolute value of reconciliation and healing of offenders), Skotnicki offers an important challenge to punitive practices that rely only on the goods of protecting order and the moral universe’s balance of justice.

However, might this attempt still not be doomed to an inevitable instability?  The two sides of this tension come from dramatically different (and perhaps irreconcilable) sources.  Jesus’ approach to “justice” and human wellbeing seems to reject the idea of autonomous justice.  For Jesus, all justice must serve healing—not stand as an independent principle.  When love and justice are separated, “justice” easily becomes co-opted, as in our current crisis.

(3) Skotnicki’s account of the origins of the practice of long-term imprisonment and the isolation of prisoners in monastic practices is fascinating and important.  This story certainly underwrites his commitment to the on-going possibility that confinement may (should) serve the healing of the offender.  However, his case is not strengthened by his failure to consider how the practice of seeking repentance through isolation has evolved to become perhaps the most effective means of punishment and torture.  As the colonial-era Quakers who led prison reform in the United States with an emphasis on isolation of the prisoner discovered to their horror, such isolation’s main effect is not to lead to repentance but to insanity.

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Richard Holloway. On Forgiveness

Richard Holloway. On Forgiveness: How Can We Forgive the Unforgivable? Cannongate, 2002.

This is a valuable if somewhat slight and even lightweight book. I had not heard of Holloway before picking up this book, but I gather he is a popular writer in Great Britain, a kind of post-Christian humanist who seeks to inspire and encourage people who do not have formal religious associations. That strikes me as a worthy vocation, and if this book is any indicator, I can imagine that Holloway’s readers do indeed from some guidance and solace for his writings.

As the title indicates, in this essay Holloway addresses one of the most vexing of modern problems–the challenge of how to respond to egregious violations of our humanity and of the humanity of those we love. We can see, if we pay attention, that bitterness and vengeance do not assuage the pain over the long haul and likely even make things worse. But forgiveness is difficult, and also seems unhealthy when it is too quick and superficial.

Holloway does not give quick and easy answers, but he is respectful of the feelings that emerge in such situations and he gives some perceptive guidance for those who can’t simply “turn things over to God.” What results is a wise book, well worth consulting for anyone who does find themselves struggling with the meaning of forgiveness in a harsh and in many ways unforgiving world.

 

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David Clough and Brian Stiltner. Faith and Force: A Christian Debate About War

David L.Clough and Brian Stiltner. Faith and Force: A Christian Debate About War. Georgetown University Press, 2007.

A timely and interesting book. Clough is a British Methodist pacifist; Stiltner an American Catholic non-pacifist. They are friends and have gathered the results of a debate they had with one another over the moral acceptability of war, especially in the context of the U.S. and British war on Iraq.

I highly recommend it, not so much because either writer is necessarily extraordinarily able in presenting his views but because of their honest, respectful, and detailed give and take. They perform a great service in showing how the arguments supporting both pacifism and the acceptability of war might be challenged.  In most writing on this topic, you have one side or the other, allowing writers to evade the hard challenges.

Of course, as a pacifist, I prefer Clough’s presentation. But both writers make many good points and represent their viewpoints ably.

My biggest criticism would be that they treat the just war position mostly as the view that war should be prevented or even abolished. This is the view of some in that camp, most notably the American Catholic Bishops in their 1983 letter The Challenge of Peace. However, the view that war should be restrained (which is much more favorable concerning the moral acceptability of warfare) is not presented as being in the mainstream of the just war tradition–even though this is the view of several of the most important just war theorists (e.g., James Turner Johnson, Paul Ramsey, William T. O’Brien, probably John Courtney Murray).

In this way, the distance between pacifism and just war thought comes across as much less than if the restraint view were considered as the determinative view in the just war tradition. That is, the common ground these writers affirm may give a false impression that the differences in the “Christian debate about war” might be more amenable to resolution than is actually the case.

I am coming to suspect that the “just war” view is actually quite unstable. Those in the just war school who believe in preventing war are being pushed ever closer to pacifism. Those in the just war school who affirm restraining war (that is, making war more moral and therefore more acceptable) end up being very close to what I would call the “blank check” view (that when it comes to war, citizens essentially give their governments a blank check). 

So perhaps Stiltner may be moving closer to pacifism, but he does not represent the just war position as a whole, only one important strand within it.

Bob Goudzwaard. Idols of Our Time

Bob Goudzwaard. Idols of Our Time. InterVarsity Press, 1984.

This short book, written nearly three decades ago, though dated in many ways, offers an insightful analysis of modern Western culture and its challenges to authentic Christian discipleship. Goudzwaard is a Dutch economist and politician and a committed member of the Dutch Reformed Church. His writing is clear and focused.

He offers a sharp critique of the myth of progress–especially pointed coming from a professional economist–and shows how ideologies serve as the conduits for idolatry. He then looks at various ideologies, including belief in technology, nationalism and material prosperity, showing how these all stand in tension with biblical message of humanity created in God’s image and called to shalom and compassion.

His concluding chapter, “Hope Awakens Life,” serves as an excellent nutshell description of the contrast between biblical values and those of these modern idols.

This book is long out of print, but inexpensive used copies seem plentiful online. I highly recommend it.

Healing Justice: Restoration, not Retribution

Here is my recent sermon that critiques the death penalty and our American culture’s retributive mindset–arguing for a biblically-oriented approach that seeks healing for victim and offender. The sermon was presented at Shalom Mennonite Congregation, Harrisonburg, VA, January 11, 2009.

Millard Lind. The Sound of Sheer Silence and the Killing State

Millard Lind. The Sound of Sheer Silence and the Killing State: The Death Penalty and the Bible. Cascadia Publishing House, 2004.

This book is a fitting conclusion to the career of Mennonite Old Testament scholar Millard Lind. Lind has written several important books on the Old Testament and ethical issues such as war and peace and the use of the law. This book on the death penalty, published when Lind was 86 years old, is a nice capstone.

Focusing on three biblical prophets–Moses, Elijah, and Jesus–Lind presents a strong case for see covenant love, not retribution, as the heart of Torah. As with his other writings, especially Yahweh is a Warrior: The Theology of Warfare in the Old Testament, Lind’s strength here lies in his careful reading of the texts. He asks penetrating questions that allow him to see the peace-oriented message in the challenging parts of the Bible that is too often missed in conventional interpretations.

This book does not present a wide-ranging argument directly engaging contemporary issues (two helpful books by the late lay biblical scholar Gardner Hanks [Against the Death Penalty and Capital Punishment and the Bible] are more socially engaged). Lind’s focus is more narrow and its achievement more modest. But we should be most grateful that Lind was moved to produce this final testament. For Christians wrestling with their response to the death penalty, this book will be a useful resource.

N. T. Wright. Evil and the Justice of God

N. T. Wright. Evil And the Justice of God. InterVarsity Press, 2006.

N.T. Wright, the British New Testament theologian and Anglican bishop, has become a bit of an industry. We may note this simply in how this rather slight book (less than 170 pages of text with generous white space throughout) found release in hardback and remains unavailable in paperback. Wright has continued to crank out books of this size and scope in great numbers while presumably also readying the next massive volume in his Christian Origins and the Question of God series (supposedly on the writings of Paul).

In spite of (or is it because of?) his extraordinary productivity, Wright almost always has worthwhile things to say–he certainly does in Evil and the Justice of God. We may wonder how much more useful and insightful his contribution addressing the important issues he takes up in this book might be had he spent more time on it. But we can be thankful for what we have.

The core of this book, and Wright’s distinctive contribution to thought on the problem of evil, is his chapter on Jesus’ crucifixion and how that provides a framework for Christian understanding of evil and of God’s response. I greatly appreciate Wright’s summary of the core theme of the Bible (“the entire Old Testament…hangs like an enormous door on a small hinge, namely the calling of Abraham in Genesis 12,” p. 46)–that God’s is working in a long-suffering way consistent with God’s just love to bring healing in the face of human evil. Jesus’ life that led to his crucifixion and God’s vindication of this life by raising Jesus from the dead tells us what we need to know about God’s creative work in the face of evil and what God expects from people of faith as their role in this work.

I like Wright’s theology a great deal. I like that as a biblical scholar he is informed and bold concerning the big theological themes and perfectly willing to address them. And address them he does, doing so in a way that keeps the biblical message at the center. He expresses a strong commitment to the Bible’s message of shalom. If he’s not quite a full-blown pacifist and social and political radical, he’s generally close enough (despite some irritating brief seemingly pro forma digs at various expressions of “liberalism” in the early part of the book when he is setting out our current cultural setting for addressing the themes of the book).

I do have one significant concern, though. In reading much of what Wright has published and in listening to him speak several times, I am left with the impression that while working very hard (and largely successfully) at placing prophetic biblical concerns at the center of his theology, he still does remain a bit of a Constantinian.  That is, for Wright, the church retains a sort of ontological privilege in his schema of salvation history. I would think that someone as immersed in the recovery of the prophetic message of the Bible would recognize how far Christendom departed from the agenda of biblical prophets (from Moses to John of Patmos). The community gathered around Torah in the Old Testament and the messianic assembly in the New Testament both stand in judgment of the church.

Certainly, Christians have the calling to work within their communities to recover and embody the biblical message of shalom and to fulfill the calling of Abraham’s descendants to bless all the families of the earth. However, the church as an institution has long ago forfeited its standing as the steward of this message. Wright’s sanguine assumptions about the church as the center of God’s work in the world weaken his arguments about the tasks followers of the biblical God face in embodying God’s justice in our present time.

 

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