My Father and I recently finished reading Orestes Brownson's thought-provoking work "The American Republic." A stylistic cross between Tocqueville's seminal characterization of the American psyche and Algernon Sidney's foray into political philosophy, Brownson's work of 1865 provides a religious view of American politics oft dismissed in our pessimistic post-modern world.
From the beginning of his political inquiry Brownson asserts that each nation possesses its own "providential constitution . . . given by God himself, operating through historical events or natural causes." While refuting Locke and other Enlightenment philosphers who ground states' origins in contract (Brownson shows the failings of such an argument by noting that "man is never a creator" as he is himself a "secondary cause" that gains his being and social tendencies from a benificent diety) Brownson shows that each nation has its own purpose for existing which God himself condones. Thus, each, taking care to insure its people enjoy their God-given rights, still retains the ability to exist distinctly from fellow nations. Their mode(s) of governmental structure, suffrage and other civil rights may differ while still fulfilling its divinely appointed role.
To members of the LDS faith residing within America, Brownson's view stikes a responsive chord. One can easily read "The American Republic" alongside the "Book of Mormon" verses heralding the United States as a promised land. Yet, the "Book of Mormon" corroborates Brownson's international view as well. Nephi alludes to this as he teaches concerning the Children of Israel in chapter 19 of 1st Nephi. In verse 24 of the chapter under discussion Nephi exhorts the "remnant of the Children of Israel"to liken [the Lord's prophecies] unto yourselves, that ye may have hope as well as your brethren." Often we seem to believe that scriptural admonishment to liken the Lord's words unto ourselves is a singular process, that their is one cut and dry way of interpretation for all nations and peoples. Yet, Nephi takes care to avoid such language. Rather than focus on only one "branch" of Israel, this ancient prophet notes that others, their "brethren" who also found themselves scattered upon the isles of the sea, may benefit from prophetic insight. In addition, Nephi's words to his specific people realizes that individuals may apply prophecy in individual ways. This comes to the surface through Nephi's use of the word "yourselves," notably recorded in the plural.
Perhaps this appears as a mere exercise in semantic hair-splitting. However, I prefer to believe otherwise. Throughout scripture the Lord continually stresses the need for individual progress and interpretation. In parable, he applauded the varied use his servants applied to increase thier talents, in the Old Testament Jehovah commanded Moses to take advantage of diverse skills found among the tribes of Israel in order to construct the tabernacle. From here, bridging the gap between individual and nations proves remarkable easy.
And yet, though we may consider Brownson's ideas concerning the individuality of nation states in a favorable light, we must realize that (at least from an American perspective) the philosophy not only predates him by at least 35 years, but that it owes its inception largely to Mormon theological thought. Even if one does not see the "Book of Mormon" as scripture, one must still credit Joseph Smith with this philosophical view (if one does believe in the divine source of the book, than the ideas pedigree becomes even more impressive--as it finds its ideological roots in ancient Christian thought). For those who persist in denigrating the "Book of Mormon," this small piece of political theory found within offers a proof not only of its validity, but also the original and advanced minds of its authors.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Of Tolstory and Card: Moral Ruminations
If any novel deserves the designation of classic, let Tolstoy's Anna Karinina rank among the best. Within, Tolstoy poignantly illustrates the consequences of sin, yet leaves one hopeful that at some future day mankind will come to the knowledge that the only true life is the life of faith.
An important realization dawned on me walking back from BYU's library. Tolstoy truly demonstrated the proper way to write concerning morally charged subjects (adultery in Karinina's case) without falling prey to immoral writing. This fascinates me presicely because very few authors can claim such a feat. Whereas Tolstoy writes to dissuade from immoral acts (touching instead more heavily on the emotional, and spiritual ramifications of such choices) others not only luridly describe depravity, but glory in it. This is all the more intersting because, reading Tolstoy's novel I realized that I feel comfortable reading his works while I almost always place an Orson Scott Card novel down before the final page owing to offensive passages.
What is the difference? Does one exist? Are their instances in literature where issues such as immorality can benificially be touched upon? A few observations of contrast strike me concerning these questions.
While Tolstoy and Card in some instances touch upon similar content matter for similar purposes--namely to warn against immorality (the beginning of the third novel in the Seventh Son series provides one such example), Card's attempts fail because they often stir up the precise feelings he warns against.
If one writes a novel concerning the evils of murder, while at the same instant arousing passions within readers which legitimitizes such action, one's novel proves not only innefectual, but immoral. If Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment caused an uprising of of mass-murderers, it would be foolish to excuse the author. Author's choose words with care. They are responsible for the words they put to paper. While the audience also holds a responsibility to read with care and discernment, they do not hold the only responsibility in the matter. Rhetoric is powerful, and must be cautiously employed.
Here Card and Tolstoy's works differ. While Tolstoy refuses to enter the realm of unabashed sensuality, Card's novels often dwell upon lustful images. Thus, even while Card attemtps to teach the consequences of immorality, to an extent he shoots himself in the foot--attempting to teach he obscures his moral with his method. In an attempt to cater to popularity he betimes loses touch with propriety-throwing in innuendo and innapropriate dialogue which serves no discernable purpose in the novels' proceedings.
Tolstoy stands firmly in the opposite camp. If no reason appears to bring in the beast immorality, he keeps in chained firmly outside the door. In essence, as a prophet in ancient American once recorded, he realized that some "works of darkness" are better off left unrecorded--for, once known, such works would only serve to further immorality (Alma 37-The Book of Mormon).
In the end, perhaps it is impossible to draw a hard fast line between what, morally speaking, should or should not be displayed in fiction. Many seek to place such decisions in the realm of subjectivity, placing the decision upon what an individual can and cannot handle. My purpose here is not to lay down a set of guidelines to be used by all--for in the end all must be governed by thier conscience. However, that being said, in order for fiction to continue in its moral function, we all must take an active stance in actually listening to that little voice within. And, when it comes down to it, each must realize that their are principles in this world which are definitive, that when bent, or worse, broken, only cause harm, regardless of thier purported intent.
An important realization dawned on me walking back from BYU's library. Tolstoy truly demonstrated the proper way to write concerning morally charged subjects (adultery in Karinina's case) without falling prey to immoral writing. This fascinates me presicely because very few authors can claim such a feat. Whereas Tolstoy writes to dissuade from immoral acts (touching instead more heavily on the emotional, and spiritual ramifications of such choices) others not only luridly describe depravity, but glory in it. This is all the more intersting because, reading Tolstoy's novel I realized that I feel comfortable reading his works while I almost always place an Orson Scott Card novel down before the final page owing to offensive passages.
What is the difference? Does one exist? Are their instances in literature where issues such as immorality can benificially be touched upon? A few observations of contrast strike me concerning these questions.
While Tolstoy and Card in some instances touch upon similar content matter for similar purposes--namely to warn against immorality (the beginning of the third novel in the Seventh Son series provides one such example), Card's attempts fail because they often stir up the precise feelings he warns against.
If one writes a novel concerning the evils of murder, while at the same instant arousing passions within readers which legitimitizes such action, one's novel proves not only innefectual, but immoral. If Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment caused an uprising of of mass-murderers, it would be foolish to excuse the author. Author's choose words with care. They are responsible for the words they put to paper. While the audience also holds a responsibility to read with care and discernment, they do not hold the only responsibility in the matter. Rhetoric is powerful, and must be cautiously employed.
Here Card and Tolstoy's works differ. While Tolstoy refuses to enter the realm of unabashed sensuality, Card's novels often dwell upon lustful images. Thus, even while Card attemtps to teach the consequences of immorality, to an extent he shoots himself in the foot--attempting to teach he obscures his moral with his method. In an attempt to cater to popularity he betimes loses touch with propriety-throwing in innuendo and innapropriate dialogue which serves no discernable purpose in the novels' proceedings.
Tolstoy stands firmly in the opposite camp. If no reason appears to bring in the beast immorality, he keeps in chained firmly outside the door. In essence, as a prophet in ancient American once recorded, he realized that some "works of darkness" are better off left unrecorded--for, once known, such works would only serve to further immorality (Alma 37-The Book of Mormon).
In the end, perhaps it is impossible to draw a hard fast line between what, morally speaking, should or should not be displayed in fiction. Many seek to place such decisions in the realm of subjectivity, placing the decision upon what an individual can and cannot handle. My purpose here is not to lay down a set of guidelines to be used by all--for in the end all must be governed by thier conscience. However, that being said, in order for fiction to continue in its moral function, we all must take an active stance in actually listening to that little voice within. And, when it comes down to it, each must realize that their are principles in this world which are definitive, that when bent, or worse, broken, only cause harm, regardless of thier purported intent.
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