The book turned out to be worth my time, but was not as riveting as I expected.
This was not a function of Jacobs' prose or the broad topic. But I didn't get
into the details he shared on all of the writers—Jacques Maritain, Simone Weil,
T.S. Eliot, C.S. Lewis, and W.H. Auden—and I'm not sure that I found the overall
narrative compelling. Still, for those interested in the broader topics or the
particular writers, Jacobs' book is definitely worth a read.
The context is 1943, when America has entered the war in full force and Germany
is on the defensive. In Jacobs' telling, the war was all but won. (Churchill
saw the Allies winning just after Pearl Harbor happened [x]!) This is more
optimistic than I have read elsewhere—at least prior to the success of D-Day.
(For my other reviews of books in this era, here's Ambrose's Band of Brothers and here's the first two books in Rick Atkinson's great trilogy.) But even if one questions Jacobs' view
on this, the larger point stands: key people were already thinking about why
they were fighting and what they would aim to do afterwards.
Why Were We Fighting?
The question of "why we were fighting" might seem simple enough. But
usually the focus was what we were fighting against—opposing
the Germans and the Japanese. This presupposes an objective critique of the
opponent (really easy with those villains!) and also a replacement by something
better (easy, but often assumed and undefined).
So, what were we fighting for? What
way of life were we trying to preserve, improve, or inaugurate? This angle
leads to less comfortable inferences. Protecting consumerism, American Civil
Religion, libertine immorality, virulent racism, and so on—all prominent
features of American culture. Are these worth the sacrifice? At least in the
minds of these (and some secular) thinkers, the Western democracies would
win the war, but were also "some considerable way along the path to losing
the peace." (199)
Another troubling angle: Jacobs opens his first chapter with American sympathy
for Germany, if not Nazism (5). This may surprise us, but it should not, given
universal and contemporary considerations. First, people generally have little
understanding of economics and current events—and perhaps moreso then, with
less education and limited media options. So, an easy but sobering embrace of
poor policies or bad actors is quite common.
Second, socially and politically, "progressivism"
including eugenics was popular and perceived (proudly) as
"scientific". In fact, Germany patterned its eugenics laws after
American efforts, starting in Indiana in 1907. And discrimination against all sorts of people
(including Jews, women, and the disabled) was quite acceptable in America at the
time.
Third, in terms of politics and economics, there was a growing
penchant for statism, increased faith in the efficacy of government, and less
faith in markets and market outcomes. This is a time marked by the Great
Depression and the supposed success of Keynesian economics and the New Deal. We
were optimistic about the use of our military, the American Way, but
ironically, also more open to world governance structures.
In that time, at least until things were obviously ugly, why
wouldn't one at least sympathize with Germany (if not applaud them), after the
nastiness of World War I and its aftermath?
What Role for Religion?
Given the moral failings in America and his own personal
relativism, Auden went through a crisis of faith where he asked how we had the
right to demand or even expect a more humanistic response. "Even granted
the evil of Hitler, can we be sure that our ways are necessarily
superior?...How righteous is our cause? And if it is righteous, what makes it
so?" (10-12) Not "positivism or pragmatism." (16) Auden noted
soberly, "We come much closer to Hitler than we may care to admit. If
everything is a matter of opinion...force becomes the only way of settling
differences." (17)
Auden couldn't answer the question well, without a reference to Christian faith
(6). His conclusion: "Only an appeal to something eternal, absolute, and
good—like the God of St. Thomas or the 'nature of human beings' described by
Aristotle—would permit one to answer the Nazis." (7)
But what role had religion played in getting Europe to this point? In
particular, should one blame particularly-nasty forms of nationalism on its sins
of omission or commission? Churches had often been complicit—by compromising
with secularism and patriotism. Christian thinkers were convinced that Europe’s
troubles stemmed from a gradual erosion of focus and unity in religion. As
such, they saw the primary solution as reversing these causes (28-30).
This led to "a pressing set of questions about the relationship between
Christianity and the Western democratic social order...whether Christianity was
uniquely suited to the moral underpinning of that order." (xvi) An
emphasis on "liberal instrumentalism" had put such questions on the
back burner. But is that where they belonged? "That willingness to defer
ultimate questions as the price to paid for getting along with one another, had
left the democratic West unable to generate the energetic commitment necessary
to resist the military and moral drive of societies that had clear
answers" to questions of purpose, until it was late in the game at best
(33-34).
Stunde Null and the Response of the Church
In his afterword, Jacobs uses Jacques Ellul's work and two key
German phrases: Nachkriegzeit (the night after the war) and Stunde
Null (zero hour) to revisit the relevant questions. "What does
faithful presence look like at the moment the clocks are all reset?" (197)
Some Christians would choose an insular approach to building up
the church. Some turned to politics—reaching for powerful mechanisms of social
gospel and political change. For Ellul, neither pietistic aloofness nor
political assimilation was valid (198). "There is certainly nothing wrong
with the United Nations, and prefabricated housing can be very useful indeed.
But the world does not need Christians to say so...the first and most vital task
of Christians in time of war was prayer." (199)
In contrast to Jacobs' five thinkers, a more-political approach was then
enunciated most forcefully by Reinhold Niebuhr as "Christian
realism". I'll leave this discussion to interested readers (52-56). But in
a word, his view emphasized the value of political pragmatism. Neibuhr was
worried about the temptations and other costs of this approach—in light of
original sin, etc. And he didn't imagine politics in utopian terms, along the
lines of post-millennial statists at the turn of the 20th century. But
ultimately, he saw a low priority on politics as unrealistic and impractical.
Again, this debate occurred in a time of high faith in government activism. So
Neibuhr's optimism is more understandable in the post-war era. Now, such a
position is far more difficult to hold on pragmatic grounds. Jacobs addresses
the concerns from an historical angle: the evidence from Augustine and
Constantine (79-81) and even a sympathetic reading of Herod at the time of
Jesus (83-85). And for Christians in particular, Jacobs observes that we "often
fail to keep technique under such judgment and submission". (200)
Of course, these are not simply questions for the West after World War II. In
our time, with the explicit impact of Christianity fading, changing social
norms, and less access to power in political realms, what is the best way for
the Church to move forward-- from doubling down on old strategies to a renewed
emphasis on discipleship with Jesus and various expressions of "the
Benedict Option"?
In his review of Jacobs' book in Harpers, Christopher Beha asks today’s Democrats—or really, those who
define themselves largely as opponents of Trump or the GOP—what they will do if
they “win the peace”? The answer for them—and for most in the GOP in opposition
to Democrats—is not particularly clear.
Beha’s observation is a wonderful example of Jacobs' thesis. What
do you do when you gain power and win the peace? Beha and Jacobs come to
similar conclusions about the most effective engagement with the culture—not
through politics, media, and the battles at the intersection, but in daily
lives and community that have purpose and actually move the needle one life at
a time.
A few miscellaneous things:
-As for post-war society, "There would be much remaking and
reshaping to do: who would do it, and what principles would govern them?"
(x) And how did we get there? Answers varied, but at least in part, "the
world had gone astray because its people had been poorly educated". (xiv)
Easily duped, they were "in the helpless thrall to the propagandistic
machinations of unscrupulous nationalist movements". (xv)
-Of particular interest to these academics, in a time of
apocalyptic war: why should we bother with academics and learning? One of
Lewis' answers to this is famous: "war creates no absolutely new
situation; it simply aggravates the permanent human situation so that we can no
longer ignore it." (57-58) If a time of war is different in severity but
not type, we should continue to pursue education and learning.
-Jacobs recounts an old socialist joke-- that the best thing about
being a socialist was that it required you to "attend cocktail parties
with the rich and powerful" (31). This reminded me of Tom Wolfe's short
little howler of a classic, Radical Chic and the Mau-mauing of the Flak Catchers.
-Jacob quotes Bonhoeffer-- something I'll use for a future book on
Noah and Abraham: "The ultimate question for a responsible man to ask is
not how to extricate himself heroically from the affair, but how the coming
generation is to live. It is only this question, with its responsibility
towards history, that fruitful solutions can come..." (35)
-Of course, Jacobs wrestles with vague term "humanism"
and seeks to reclaim and redeem the concept (41). (Other important words face
similar struggles-- e.g., liberal, Christian). He notes that it has been used
to praise and to damn (37)-- and that it has been used in many ways. I'll leave
his discussion to interested parties (42-50), but will note that his sense of
"Christian humanism" is grounded in the imago dei of
Genesis 1:26.
-Jacobs notes how earlier wars had shaped these thinkers and their
work-- with a particular but far from exclusive focus on Lewis and his many
references to spiritual warfare (59-62, 75-76, 103). Such thought experiments
and efforts at empathy are important and revelatory. Consider in our own time,
the impact of events such as the Great Depression, the Vietnam War, the Cold
War, 9/11, and so on.
-Jacobs shares some good thoughts on history, humility, and
valuing but not idolizing the past (95-96). He starts with Lewis: "We
cannot be better except by the influence upon us of what is better than we
are...the future is empty and is filled by our imagination...it is just as
imperfect as we are." And then Jacobs' summary: "Therefore we must
turn to the past, not because it is necessarily better than our own world, but
because it is different." Again, Lewis: there is no "magic about the
past". They were no smarter and made as many mistakes (maybe more), but
they were different mistakes. "The books of the future would be just as
good a corrective as the books of the past, but unfortunately we cannot get at
them."