The Responsibility of the State

 

According to Augustine,

 

al-Farabi, and Thomas Aquinas

 

Written by S. William Anthony

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                History has its deep wells.  In our erudite studies, there is the danger of looking down the well of thousands and hundreds of years only to see our own reflection at the bottom.[1]  Within this essay, I aspire to look beyond those values of my own lifetime to construct an understanding that is contextually sensitive to the writers I have chosen.  The scholars examined in this essay are Saint Aurelius Augustine, Abū Nasr al-Fārābī and Saint Thomas Aquinas—all of which were chosen because of both their peculiar and similar historical situations.  All three live in extraordinary times, sitting on the edge of a particular change that threatens to transform their societies forever.  All three have an uncanny familiarity with Greek philosophy, and all three are men seeking to find a niche in the truth of revealed religion for the truths of philosophy.  This selection of thinkers is quite diverse as well.  Abū Nasr al-Fārābī writes as a Muslim under the ‘Abbassid dynasty during the Golden Age of Islam in the Middle East.  Augustine writes in Africa as a bishop of the small town of Hippo in a society still divided over its religions and allegiances.  Thomas Aquinas also writes as a Christian, yet his age is quite different wherein Christianity has fully permeated European society making the large, monolithic Christendom subject to the absolutism of papal authority.

                Here in this essay, I am mainly concerned with their political philosophies.  Religion, be it Islam or Christianity, is highly integrated with the political structures in each of these thinkers’ societies.  Each three will show to have a different approach to the relation of religion and state that makes each of their political philosophies unique.  This will not be an essay about church-state relations per se.  Rather, this paper concerns men of religion who, through various approaches, determine the responsibility of the state, and then of religion in regard to the state.  None of these have any concept of the sharp schism between church/religion and state as is characteristic of our society, and I believe we have something to learn from these ancients.  In the long journey of history, we often forget from whence we came.  It pays to take a glance back at the long trodden path—remembering those things which have fleeted from the memory of the human race through neglect or disinterest.  While their thought appears to be covered with the spider-webs of antiquity, their works are not mere relics, but they are hidden treasures that I believe shall be shown to speak to our contemporary political problems and concerns. 

—™

 

St. Aurelius Augustine

                Augustine (354-430 A.D), the first examined of our thinkers, ascends to intellectual prominence during an extraordinary time in history.  The tsunami of change is rocking the foundations of a once seemingly invincible and impenetrable Roman Empire.  In 313 A.D. before Augustine’s birth, the Christian Church changes forever from an obscure, minority religion into a power-wielding giant of great influence—resulting from Constantine’s Edict of Milan.  By 395 A.D. (and Augustine would see this in his lifetime), Emperor Theodosius declares Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire.  With this fuel for optimism, Roman Christians seem to have little to fear, as the post-millennial eschatology of that time expresses; however, all is not well with Rome.  The Roman army loses its first battle in one thousand years at Adrianople in 378 A.D., signifying the inner decay of its political structures.  Soon the unthinkable happens and Alaric of the Goths sacks Rome, in 410 A.D.  Rome proves not to be invincible after all, and many pagans seek to find a place to lay blame.  Christianity’s numerous opponents slander the new official religion and blame its displacement of paganism for the ills suffered by Rome.  From 413 to 425 A.D., Augustine writes in response De Civitate Dei (The City of God).  Within this work, he demonstrates how paganism bore the seeds of its own decay and demise in defense of his faith.  Though not a work of political philosophy per se, the magisterial theologian’s work takes an encyclopedic look at human life that reflects upon the mysteries and wonders within God’s providence.  More than a refutation of paganism, it promulgates an entire teleological theory of history wherein there exists an ongoing apocalyptic struggle between the City of God, founded upon God’s agape, and the City of Man, founded upon self-aggrandizing motives. 

                Augustine may be understood as the zenith of ancient Christian thought, situated on the precipice of the Middle Age.  De Civitate Dei creates the first universal approach to human history and the world, which is thoroughly systematic in nature.  When attempting to bring its political elements to the surface, I find it fitting to first begin with Augustine’s critique of Ciceronian political philosophy.  Augustine forthrightly avers that, “true justice has no existence save in that republic whose founder and ruler is Christ.”[2]  Augustine’s reasoning against the politic of idealism is vicious.  At the end of his reasoning, Augustine denies the earthly possibility of the four major facets of Cicero’s politics: republic, true justice, right, and the possibility of a true assemblage of people. [3]  Taking Cicero’s definition of a republic as ‘the weal of the people’, Augustine seeks to prove that a Roman republic qua republic never existed, and consequently there never existed any republic or government, in which the weal of the people was manifest.  Cicero’s scheme takes an assemblage of a people to be those who have common interests and acknowledgement of right; however, right comes from justice—only that which is just action do we have a right to act out.  Commenting upon this, Augustine writes, “Where, therefore, there is no true justice there can be no right.  For that which is done by right is justly done, and what is unjustly done cannot be done by right.”[4]  Henceforth, Augustine exploits what he shows to be an inherent weakness in the thought of his pagan opponents concerning the nature of Rome, and he does so by continuing on this strain of Cicero—whose reasoning will prove to be reproachful to the very foundations of the Roman Empire.  The lack of justice present in the society unravels any attempts to legitimize that society.  Augustine takes the reasoning to its natural end,

Thus, where there is not true justice there can be no assemblage of men associated by a common acknowledgement of right and therefore there can be no people, as defined by Scipio or Cicero; and if no people, then no weal of the people, but only of some promiscuous multitude unworthy of the name people. Consequently, if the republic is the weal of the people, and there is no people if it be not associated by a common acknowledgement of right, and if there is no right where there is no justice, then most certainly it follows that there is no republic where there is not justice.[5]

 

There is no true [i.e., complete, lasting, perennial, etc.] justice in this world because men do not all serve the one true God, who is himself the standard of justice.  Augustine does not denies that all these things are desirable are even ideal; Augustine does not question the value of ideals such as republic, justice, right, etc.  Ciceronian rationalism and optimism is the subject of his specific attack; whereby, he destroys the idea that state is a compact of justice.

                If the state is not founded upon justice or any other ideal, what is a state founded upon? After discarding the previous definition, Augustine defines a people as “an assemblage of reasonable beings bound together by a common agreement as to the objects of their love.”[6]  “Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies?”[7]—Moreover, is not a kingdom’s only true love its lust for power and dominion, which it snatches from the hands of others?  As Augustine writes, “in order to discover the character of any people, we only have to observe what they love.”[8]  Reducing the kingdom to this common denominator, a band of robbers and thieves no longer appear too different from the organization of a kingdom.  Augustine argues this as follows:

The band [of robbers] itself is made up of men; it is ruled by the authority of a prince, it is knit together by the pact of the confederacy; the booty is divided by the law agreed on.  If, by the admittance of abandoned men, this evil increases to such a degree that it holds places, fixes abodes, takes possessions of cities, and subdues peoples, it assumes more plainly the name of a kingdom, because the reality is now manifestly conferred on it, not by the removal of covetousness, but by the addition of impunity [emphasis mine].[9]

 

Power makes a state ‘legitimate’, for no one dares oppose its strength.  Nevertheless, though sinful the product of the fallen nature, the institutions of the cities are binding because of the laws present in the society; thus, the Roman system of taxation and authoritarian rule has validity and endorsement.  This acts as provision withholding the deluge of human sinfulness; however, the earthly city nevertheless founds itself upon its own self-aggrandizement and indulgence to the exclusion of virtues if need necessitates, or as Augustine puts it, the Earthly city forms “by the love of self, even to the contempt of God.”[10]

                In diametric opposition to the cities of Earth is the City of God.  “Glorious things are spoken of you, O city of God,” (Psalm 87.3). [11]  Like the cities of Earth, it forms not through justice per se but through love; however, it forms not by self-love—i.e., ridiculous cupidity—rather, it forms through charity, “by the love of God, even to contempt of self.”[12]  It is only through serving and loving God that man can achieve justice, which is ordained by God.  The earthly city does not serve God; thus, it cannot be a source of justice.  Whereas the City of God acknowledges its creator, “the citizens of the earthly city prefer their own gods.”[13]  The foundation of these two cities span back to epochs beyond the stretch of human history, even to the angels.  Moreover, there draws into the discussion of human politics and community an unfolding of cosmic proportions—revealing the apocalyptic and dualistic nature of Augustine’s theological conception of human history as a cosmic struggle of the universe.[14]  Though there appears to be such a sharp line of demarcation separating the two cities, their separation does not so readily become evident in the world.  For the present time, the earthly city is made manifest and reigns; however, the City of God, “sojourns till the time of its reign arrives” in the lives of its saints.[15]  Augustine is not referring to the Church and the secular government—the analogy does not exist in his writings.  If it is perceived as coinciding, the coincidence must be seen as only aligning “formally with in the institutional boundaries between church and pagan empire.”[16]  As Ruether notes, “The final separation between the two [cities] takes place eschatologically, not within history.”[17]  In various ways, the earthly city resembles the structure and function of the City of God; however, being opposed to the foundation of the City (i.e., charity), the earthly city is shown to be a putrid corruption of God’s City. A danger of demonizing structures as the embodiment of the antithesis to God’s City appears to be a tendency, but Augustine would not concede to this interpretation.  As said above, the City of God cannot be unilaterally equated with the Church and its institutions.  And, “If all who belong to the institutional church are not in the city of God, although the church is the formal vehicle for the city of God within history, still less is the empire to be rejected as merely the instrument of the reign of Satan.”[18]  Since otherworldliness does little to help us with politics, one may see Augustine’s divine city as quite irrelevant in this world; however, he views God’s City existing on Earth, though not manifest in any historical structure, as perennially with humankind nonetheless.

Contrary to the City of God, “the earthly city … shall not be everlasting … [and] has its good in this world, and rejoices in it with such joy as such things can afford.”[19]  The Augustinian notion of peace in the world is that of  “an uneasy armistice between social forces.”[20]  Always subject to the ephemeral nature of the peace of the world, once people achieve peace, a threat to that peace arises:

If, when [a power] has conquered, it is inflated with pride, its victory is life-destroying; but if it turns its thoughts upon the common casualties of our mortal condition, and is rather anxious concerning the disasters that may befall it than elated with the successes already achieved, this victory, though of a higher kind, is still only short-lived; for it cannot abidingly rule over those whom it has victoriously subjugated. [21]

 

Augustine does not object to the desire for peace to enjoy earthly things.  He laments that periods of peace are attained often by many “toilsome wars,” and he even speaks of these times of peace as “without doubt the gifts of God.”[22]  But, Augustine reminds us that there are things “secured by eternal victory and peace never-ending” neglect of which shall cause “misery [to] follow and ever increase.”[23]  With this dialectic relationship in mind, Augustine argues that “there is no man who does not wish to be joyful, neither is there any one who does not wish to have peace.”[24]  Augustine typifies the entire human race and its social struggles to be directed toward achieving peace for the enjoyment of what little pleasure it may gain—“peace is the end sought by war.”[25]  Peace sought by men may by no means be required to be universal peace but is often, instead, self-centered focused upon achieving egocentric ends.  Peace may also be perverted to serve the exploitive function of wicked men, which despise the equality of men under God’s peace.[26]   Specifically, peace means for Augustine the achievement of a type of cosmic homeostasis.  This peace aligns itself with the entire universe:

The peace of the body … consists in the … arrangement of its parts.  The peace of the irrational soul is the harmonious repose of appetites, and that of the rational soul the harmony of knowledge and action…  Peace between man and God is the well-ordered obedience of faith to the eternal law.  Peace between man and man is well-ordered concord.  Domestic peace … [and] civil peace is a similar concord…  The peace of all things is the tranquility of order.[27]

Thus, peace is the primal ordering of all relationships that create harmony in the world and can, therefore, be judged and normative in Augustinian politics. 

                However, peace is not always the phase of life experienced throughout history.  ‘Just war’ as a concept finds its birth in Christianity, according to most accounts, through the thought of Augustine.  The issues pertaining to Christians fighting in wars and serving in the Roman military had created scandalous stirs among both the ante-Nicene and the post-Nicene church fathers.  His life placed at the apex of pre-medieval Christianity, Augustine’s writings on war create a new approach for war that reconciled Roman imperialism and Christian ‘passivity’.  Bypassing tedious exegetical work, I choose to give a summation of the elements of Augustine’s just war theory as given by John Langan.  There are five themes that I have selected to note in Augustine’s theory according to Langan:

1.        a concept of war as punitive rather than defensive;

2.        evil characterized in terms of desires and attitude rather than amoral interests/values or the innate error or subsequent consequence of the action;

3.        search for legitimate authority to censure or condone the violence;

4.        an assumption of social acquiescence to moral judgments of authorities;

5.        direct appeals to Augustine’s own notion of peace. [28]

 

Many problems arise in this scheme—both in what it does and does not assert.  First, one puzzles over Augustine’s disregard for the issue of noncombatant immunity.  Langan finds that the neglect may arise because, “Augustine’s concern to minimize the evils of war (which he clearly and emphatically denounces and laments) … [finds] expression in an ethic of virtues rather than in an ethic of rules or principles (of which noncombatant immunity would be one).”[29]  Secondly, Augustine’s one-dimensional stereotype of war as the pursuit of peace is true in a circular sense (i.e., its goal is to accomplish peace), but it makes his description of war false in a deeper sense because it neglects war’s inherently arbitrary and perplexing nature.  A punitive approach to war justifies war, but (and Augustine’s genius is shown here) only in a peculiarly reproaching manner—i.e., that which destroys peace creates peace.  Never is war a good thing for Augustine:

But, say they, the wise man will wage just wars.  As if he would not all the rather lament the necessity of just wars, if he remembers that he is a man; for if they were not just he would not wage them, and would therefore be delivered from all wars.  For it’s the wrong-doing of the opposing party which compels the wise man to wage just wars; and this wrong-doing even though it gave rise to no war, would still be a matter of grief to man because it is man’s wrong-doing.  Let every one, then, who thinks with pain on all these evils, so horrible, so ruthless, acknowledge that this is misery.[30]

On Augustine’s behalf, one must admit that he makes allowance for ‘just’ war with great reluctance.  This inner struggle arises within Augustine because he is a realist attempting to make provision for a Christian belief practicable by an imperial regime.  He knows that war is wrong, denounces it and reproaches the practice; however, he knows that war is necessary by sheer force of its pragmatic utility—if Rome does not wage war and do so relentlessly the barbarians, “the bloodthirsty enemy,”[31] will inevitably overrun the empire and end civilization.  Thirdly, we now see the reasoning behind point three above—Augustine’s allowance does not come from determining that war is good.  Just war is a misnomer, yet an oxymoron through principle (i.e., the attainment of peace).  Fourthly, Augustine appeals to authority.  Authority sanctions actions which ordinary men of reasonable character know to be wrong, for their judgment is often thought to transcend the taint of personal interest.  Authority may be divine, but Augustine actually makes an endorsement for earthly authority to wage war—and without regard to the population en masse. 

                “[God] did not intend that His rational creature, who was made in His image, should have dominion over anything but the irrational creation—not man over man, but man over the beasts.”[32]  A neither human nor individual right as a principle ever develops in Augustine’s thought, but equity and equitable rule is replete throughout the City of God.  Nevertheless, Augustine condones such institutions as slavery to be accepted as a condition of humankind’s fallen nature:

But by nature, as God first created us, no one is the slave of either man or sin.  This servitude is, however, penal, and is appointed by that law which enjoins the preservation of the natural order and forbids its disturbance; for if nothing had been done in violation of that law, there would have been nothing to restrain by penal servitude.  [33]

As opposed to our original nature liberating us and invalidating oppressive structures, Augustine views our fallen nature as overriding this—making our posture towards oppression in society as conforming with ‘natural’ order.  Conformity to civic code in these matters of social status is preferred, “a father ought to frame his domestic rule in accordance with the law of the city, so that the household may be in harmony with the civic order.”[34]  Problems of ambiguity are present throughout Augustine’s writings with concern to this issue.  Augustine defines justice as “that virtue which gives everyone his due;”[35] however, as he writes this, he also decries the fact that all humans, if they were to receive their just due, would be damned eternally!  God created humankind “in his own image … [with] a soul endowed with reason and intelligence, so that he might excel,”[36] but “from the bad use of free will, there originated the whole train of evil.”[37]  Man is in a state of struggle and war, “in which strife we are born”;[38] thus, one is stretched to find anything worth saving in this view of humankind.  His nature is utterly depraved though he was once created in God’s image; therefore, to speak of human rights becomes a solecism.  Actions are not interpreted in terms of rights violations but in terms of judgment and God’s sovereignty, for as Augustine himself writes, “God makes a good use even of the wicked.”[39]

                Relevant to the discussion of human rights, and reaching to minority rights, is Augustine’s encounter with the Donatist schism.  The Donatists were Christians of North Africa who denied the validity of sacraments performed by an unworthy priest.  Rome condemned Donatism, and Augustine wrote against Donatism himself.  Eventually, Augustine played a role with the Roman Church in applying government action against the Donatists.  Any persons possessing property upon which Donatists’ gatherings occured would have their property confiscated and be subjected to a heavy fine.  Before continuing, it must be noted that,

Although there is no doubt that Augustine favored government support for suppressing religious error …it is certain that Augustine never approved to putting heretics and schismatics to death…  During the year of persecution Augustine never lost his preference for discussion and debate with the adversary.  Coercion was always a last resort with him.[40]

No doubt, Augustine never considered government measure to be a means to coercively force belief in any group.  Replying to this objection he writes,

So is it also possible that those warnings which are given by the correction of the laws do not take away free will.  And so you, when kings make any enactments against you, should consider that you are receiving a warning to consider why that is being done to you … No one, therefore takes away form you your free will.[41]

Rohr traces this action of using the state to act against the Donatists to “Augustine’s failure to think in terms of individual rights and … his overall attitude on the nature of the state.”[42]  Augustine’s neglect of human rights we have explored, but to further explain Rohr, we must unpack his statement concerning the nature of the state.  There are two historically relevant issues, which Rohr mentions, that I find significant; one, Augustine believed that “the church must watch the tendency of the state to control religion” and, two, Augustine modeled himself after his mentor, Ambrose, who “had enjoyed remarkable success in his attempt to bring public policy into conformity with Christian principle.”[43]

                Augustine’s writings concerning politics create great difficulty for those who seek to excise the purely political elements of his thought.  He thoroughly intermingles the spiritual and political; thereby, one is hard pressed to find the exposition of specific policy concerning the various minutiae of politics.  I am of the opinion that Augustine views the governments of the world as the product of both God’s provision and man’s sinfulness; thus, the responsibilities of the state varies with the people who seek to construct one.  Augustine never requires the state to take action on behalf of the sickly, elderly, poor, jobless, etc.  Education and erudite knowledge are highly valued by him; however, he calls for no stipulating distribution of education.  He even writes very little with regard to the regulation of economic transaction and the promotion of trades.  Let alone would concepts like disaster relief ever enter his mind.  Does he neglect these?  —No, I think he see these acts as mandatory upon humankind, especially Christian, but he does see them as a part of the states responsibility.  The contrast between the Augustinian conception of the state and that of Thomas and al-Fārābī shall make this increasingly clear.

—™

 

Abū Nasr al-Fārābī

                When Abū Nasr al-Fārābī (d. 950 A.D.) writes, over five hundred years pass since Saint Augustine wrote his De Civitate Dei.  As usually happens within such a large span of time, the socio-geographical landscape changes dramatically.  Approximately two hundred years after Augustine, the Prophet Muhammad rises out of the Hijaz preaching Allah’s revelation of the final religion, Islam, and changes the world forever.  Time passes.  The four Rashidun die—two naturally embracing death and two murdered.  From the conflicts after Muhammad’s death, the Umayyad dynasty rises to take control of the Caliphate and lead the swiftly spreading empire, centralizing their regime in Damascus.  Territories of the Byzantium and the Sasanian empires quickly fall to the armies fueled by a formidable Arab Imperialism united under the zeal of Islam.  Undermined by opposition within the empire, the Umayyad Caliphate, in less than a hundred years, falls to the ‘Abbasids— a branch of the Banu Hashim (i.e., the sub-tribe of the Quraysh in Mecca to which Muhammad belonged).  The height of the Islamic empire occurred under the ‘Abbassid Caliphate, which lasted until the turn of the first millennium after Chirst.  Al-Fārābī lives under the umbrella of an aging ‘Abbassid empire.  The age of a centralized Caliphate under one rule does not last forever, and al-Fārābī’s lifetime sees the decay already taking effect as provincial powers began to rise to independence and the Islamic world becomes increasingly decentralized.  All throughout the extended ‘Abbasid regime the limited power of Sunni Caliphate in Baghdad becomes increasingly apparent as various Shi’ite sects, most alarmingly the Fatimids in Egypt, threaten to create a new political order. 

                Al-Fārābī was a philosopher par excellence.  When the Islamic world began to encounter the Hellenistic thought of Aristotle and Plato through the Eastern Christian scholars, an entirely new way of thinking, of discovering truth, and of organizing life occurred to many Muslim intellectuals.  Al-Fārābī himself studied under a Christian scholar, Yuhannā ibn Hailān.  A problem did manifest, of course.  Islam had taken the primary place of priority in all the matters that philosophy addressed.  For such a reason, tension existed between those who utilized philosophy and those who utilized religion in their search for ultimate truth.  Some philosophers such as al-Fārābī’s predecessor, al-Kindī, would never go as far as to give reason and logic, the tools of philosophy, precedence over revealed truth found in the Qur’an.  Al-Fārābī would be the first to subject revealed truth to truth acquired by the intellect.  For al-Fārābī, Muhammad was the perfect Prophet-philosopher (for him, the two can be intertwined as we will see later) who could sagaciously express truth in a manner persuasive and relevant for the masses.[44]

                Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al-fādilah (i.e., On the Perfect State or Opinions of the Inhabitants of the Virtuous City) was al-Fārābī’s final work, completed ca. 940 A.D.  Since it is the product of his most complete and mature thought, it shall be the object of my essay as I try to examine and analyze al-Fārābī’s political thought.  Though he is not a theologian or a scholar of fiqh, his rare work is key to this collective overview of thinkers with a unique position in examining the state.  His concerns are not religious; rather, his concerns are metaphysical with his own religion on the line.  The integration of his views as a philosopher and Muslim are keen and intrepid.

                Upon first reading al-Fārābī’s Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al-fādilah one is struck immediately by the platform which is chosen by the philosopher to launch his discussion of politics and the direction taken to arrive at the first concrete examination of politics within the work.  Essentially, al-Fārābī travels from the First Cause, or Primary Mover, to the heavens and celestial bodies, to material elements, to creatures, to man, to human intellect and finally into the realm of politics.  Thereby, al-Fārābī immediately distinguishes himself from Greek predecessors such as Plato and his Republic.  Whereas Plato begins with a man’s relationship to the state, al-Fārābī initiates the discussion by addressing God.  Majid Fakhry notes,

This close association between metaphysics and politics in al-Fārābī’s thought illustrates further the organic view of man in relation to God and universe and to his fellow men, as embodied in the Islamic system of beliefs.  On this view, politics and ethics are conceived as an extension or development of metaphysics or its highest manifestation, theology, i.e., the science of God.[45]

 

Al-Fārābī’s goal in Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al-fādilah is not to set down an understanding of Islamic jurisprudence, i.e. fiqh or religious/theocratic law.  As Richard Walzer states, “[Al-Fārābī] does not altogether exclude this discipline from his ‘best state’ … but none the less gives it a proper place in his own scheme of things, comparable to the place of the laws in Plato’s posthumous voluminous work.”[46]  Philosophy, in al-Fārābī’s system realizes its culmination through the practice of political thought, which is in reality an investigation into happiness and how all individuals in society may realize it; therefore, those citizens of the perfect state apprehend the metaphysical framework to understand the workings of the entire universe—grounding their society in the principles thereof.

                Al-Fārābī reasons that the universe is the cause of an eternal and uncreated Being who is pure reason— a God who does a lot of thinking about thinking.  Creation exists not as necessarily being in relation to God and, therefore, is contingent.  All things came into existence via fay, meaning emanation (i.e., from God) in Islamic philosophy.  Earth and its inhabiting organisms are the most distant of all emanations shrouding our knowledge of the First Being as infinitely transcending our world.  Since God is pure, self-apprehending reason, the Divine is aptly perceived through using the human intellect’s capacity for reason.  Humans are the product of the intelligences of the spiritual world.  Viewing man in a similar fashion as Aristotle, al-Fārābī describes man as a political being—created to live in a society of human inter-relation,

In order to preserve himself and to attain his highest perfections every human being is by his very nature in need of many things which he cannot provide all by himself; his indeed in need of people who each supply him with some particular need of his… Therefore man cannot attain the perfection, for the sake of which his inborn nature has been given to him, unless man (societies of) people who co-operate come together who each supply everybody else with some particular need of his, so the that as a result of the contribution of the whole community all the things are brought together which everybody needs to preserve himself and to attain perfection.[47]

 

Through the needs we require of one another, societies have come into being to ascertain the ultimate end of reaching perfection.  Perfection equals felicity—meaning, “that the human soul reaches a degree of perfection in (its) existence where it is in no need of matter for its support, since it becomes one of the incorporeal things and of the immaterial substance and remains in that state continuously for ever.”[48]  Humankind’s deepest longings and chief end point towards its reintegration into the spiritual realm.  Through this, we can confirm further that al-Fārābī’s political philosophy grows not from utility or expediency but from the demanding requirements of the truths acquired by the metaphysician.[49]

               Al-Fārābī demarcates two forms of cities/states, the imperfect and the perfect.  Of the perfect societies, there are the great, medium, and small; corresponding to the entire inhabited world, a single nation, and the union of a people in a territory.  The imperfects are those further divided: the village, quarter, street, and even a house.[50]  These are imperfect because, “the utmost perfection is, in the first instance, attained in a city, not in a society which is less complete than it [i.e., does not facilitate the full circle of co-operation].”[51]  Co-operation of peoples, to the end of felicity, lies at the foundation of al-Fārābī’s understanding of the goal of human society.  The dynamic nature of this occurs in that it does not equal a solipsistic self-aggrandizement of the philosopher who utilizes intellectual disciplines for abandoning a world that he holds in contempt.  Only through the relational activity of human beings, moreover healthy and organized human societies, is felicity something that will become within man’s grasp.  Through fulfilling one’s fitting role in society, we come nearer and nearer to the perfection of attaining felicity.[52]

                This idea of the interdependence of all members of society is where one must try to find what one may anachronistically refer to as ‘human rights’.  Though al-Fārābī himself speak little concerning the topic, it is necessary to explain the nature of Islamic society at this time to understand what he is endorsing.  Taxation, in it unique Islamic form, best demonstrates these principles.  While the scope of this essay denies me time to fully chronicle the Islamic system of taxation as explicated in the Qur’an, there are four key concepts to overview nontheless: umma, zakat, ahl al-dhimma, and jizya.  Though the Middle East changed over time making this system outdated eventually, its simplest form will be presented.  The dominion of the Caliph, the dar al-islam, bifurcates into two classes.  The first is the umma or community of Muslims, and the second is the subjugated masses, the ahl al-dhimma, i.e., the People of the Book.  The ahl al-dhimma are those conquered Jews, Christians and Zoroastrians living under the Caliphate.  As conquered peoples, they are allowed to live in ‘protected’ status.  Unlike the polytheists, they are not required to convert to Islam.  However, they must fund the government through the protective tax, jizya.  In all actuality, this tax was first a welcomed change from the oppressive over-taxation of Byzantium.  The early Islamic empire thrived and sustained itself from the minorities it subdued ever since Muhammad initiated its expansion.  Though the umma could not be required to pay the jizya, each Muslim, as a religious and political duty was required to render the zakat, or alms-tax.  Zakat accumulated in a religious fund, called a waqf, and would be used for charity and maintaining the poor, among other religious functions.[53]  This alms-tax facilitates a creation of a welfare state to take care of society’s poor, sick, elderly, etc.; however, the uncanny approach it takes is investing the responsibility of this function of the state solely to religious institutions.  Though the minimal rate required to pay is 2.5%, times of extreme need serve as causes to raise the amount given acting as provision for disasters relief.  When all needs are met, and there is a surplus of zakat in the waqf, the money becomes a reserve for the public treasury.[54]   The statements implicit throughout this system concerning human rights are readily apparent.  Though most Westerners would object, it is plain that Muslims inevitability are considered of higher status legally than minorities.  However, the rights of all individuals are recognized in their needs for basic sustenance of which it is not only the right but also the required duty of the community to provide.  Most likely, al-Fārābī supports this system.  For its time, it was of uncanny humane significance.  It allows for such rights as religious liberty—though at a price.

                Reinforcing this interdependence in the community, al-Fārābī chooses to make a thorough analogous parallel to the human body and its functions (as understood by Greek science) with regard to a state.  Resulting from this choice, he adheres to a very functional, yet organic, understanding of society.  Parallels with his own historical situation appear throughout the analogy.  Each existing situation, occupation, social class, etc. exists for its purpose in preserving the entire body, or state—whether it be noble or ignoble.  Organs “have by nature faculties by which they perform their functions;”[55] however, “natural faculties which exist in the organs and limbs of the body correspond [to] the voluntary habits and dispositions in the parts of the city.”[56]  Key to al-Fārābī’s entire developing political system proves to be the ruler.  Within the extended analogy of the human body, the ruler is the head of his hierarchical representation of the organs of the body.  He writes,

The ruling organ in the body is by nature the most perfect and most complete of the organs in itself and in its specific qualifications, and it also has the best of everything of which another organ has a share as well; beneath it … are the other organs…  In the same way, the ruler of the city is the most perfect part of the city in his specific qualification and has the best of everything which anybody else shares with him; beneath him are people who are by him and rule others.[57]

 

The ruler, however, is not just one of the multifarious types of persons who all can happen to acquire a ruling power by manifold means, as we shall see later.

                Al-Fārābī moves from the biological analogy to an examination of cosmological reality.  His understanding of the universe consists of placing all things into a hierarchy as follows: the First Being, immaterial existents, heavenly bodies and lastly material bodies.  All of these acting in accordance with the will of the First Cause conform to it, take it as a guide, and imitate it.[58]  Thus, “the excellent city ought to be arranged in the same way: all its parts ought to imitate in their actions the aims of their first ruler according to their rank.”[59]  The consequences of these analogies arrive not only at a more lucidly explained line of reasoning but also legitimize his system within the context of the entire created order.  If he is correct in his assertion, reason has brought him to the primal heartbeat that runs the purpose of the universe.
                As said before, the envisioned ruler is not any individual who luck or fate has placed into a position of great power and authority, “the ruler of the excellent city cannot just be any man, because rulership requires two conditions: (a) he should be predisposed for it by his inborn nature, (b) he should have acquired the attitude and habit of will for rulership.”[60]  Al-Fārābī describes the ideal ruler as the ideal man as well.  Before addressing political matters, al-Fārābī reasoned out the perfect man to be a philosopher-prophet; thus, al-Fārābī believes the perfect ruler to also be a philosopher-prophet as well as philosopher-king.  The logic behind this is complicated;[61] however, it is important to note that, “he creates a synthesis between Plato’s Philosopher-King with the ideal Islamic ruler.”[62]  Here al-Fārābī’s philosophy shows its distinctive Islamic character.  This sovereign lives subjugated to the authority of no person whatsoever—“he is the Imām; he is the first sovereign of the excellent city, he is the sovereign of the excellent nation, and the sovereign of the universal state.”[63]  Within his system, the ruler supports the entire political structure as the keystone.  All things depend upon this ruler who is identified by twelve qualities:

1.        He must have superb health and strength of body

2.        He must be quick to understand and apprehend.

3.        His memory must be excellent—forgetting almost nothing.

4.        He should be highly astute and gifted with every form of intelligence.

5.        His speech should be eloquent and lucid.

6.        Love for gaining and seeking knowledge should be natural for him, as if effortless.

7.        He should hate falsehood and liars but love truth and truthful men.

8.        He should by nature not desire food, drink, and sexual intercourse and have an aversion to frivolous activities as well the pleasures they provide.

9.        He should be proud and fond of honor.

10.     Dirham and dīnār as well as other worldly pursuits should mean little to him.

11.     By nature, he will love justice and just people and hate injustice and unjust people.  The former he will promote and the latter he should be reluctant to commit.

12.     His decisions should be brought to fruition with steadfastness and determination.[64]

 

The number and virtue of these qualifications are staggering, and al-Fārābī himself admits that such a man is nearly impossible to find, “being altogether very rare.”[65]  He even allows that if such a man cannot be found and only, “fulfills the six aforementioned conditions—or five of them…—he will be sovereign.”[66]  He who is to succeed this incredible ruler shall even have further distinguishing qualities.  Namely, he will possess these six,

1.        He will be a philosopher.

2.        He shall remember the laws and customs of the preceding sovereigns, conforming to them.

3.        He will excel in deducing new laws which have not yet been made based on the principles laid down by the first Imāms.

4.        With the good of the city as priority, he will be skilled and powerful in creating new laws for new, unforeseeable situations.

5.        He shall be skilled at guiding the people through his speech.

6.        His physique should befit excellence in the art of war.[67]

 

Making further provision for the case of the paucity or non-existence of such men, al-Fārābī permits the formation of an oligarchy of men who individually possess each of these individual virtues, thereby giving their virtues to create a synthetic ruling figurehead of the quality described above.

                Because not all peoples in the world form societies of which the end of their co-operation is excellence and felicity, al-Fārābī necessarily classifies these cities and examines the errors inherent within those cities.[68]  First, there are the ignorant cities that have no knowledge of true felicity.  Lacking knowledge, they only seek the achievement of pleasure and the forestalling of pain (utilitarianism?).  Of the ignorant cities are the following: the city of necessity, which strives only for food, drink and clothes to survive; the city of meanness, whose aim is to co-operate to acquire wealth and riches for its own sake; the city of depravity and baseness, who seek pleasure and entertainment of every sort; the city of honor, which seeks distinction and fame; the city of power, which seeks to prevail over other people to enjoy its own power; and the ‘democratic’ city, which aims to be free without restraining any of its passions.[69]  The end of the people of the city is annihilation at death, because they have not achieved the self-transcendence of the intellect beyond material existence through knowledge.  According to al-Fārābī, “These are the men who perish and proceed to nothingness, in the same way as cattle, beasts of prey and vipers.”[70]

                Most despicable is the wicked city.  This city has knowledge that the ignorant city lacks; therefore, its conduct is inexcusable and macabre.  “It knows felicity, God Almighty, the existents of the second order, the Active Intellect … and but the actions of its people are the actions of the people of the ignorant cities.”[71]  Citizens of the wicked suffer the most horrible of fates.[72]  Eternal life is theirs by virtue of knowledge, but their wickedness denies them the felicity that comes with knowledge.  Wickedness and knowledge fight each other so vehemently within the person’s psyche that they are self-anathematized with an eternally agonizing sprit.  Al-Fārābī writes, “Their distress … increases endlessly as time passes.  This then is misery, the opposite of felicity.”[73]  Last is the erring city.  This city seeks erroneously and in futility to find felicity in the last life, but its founder receiving false revelation or being a pretender has produced the wrong impression through trickery and deception.[74]  Because the citizens of this city are misguided by the wickedness of their leader, only the leader will suffer, as do the citizens of the wicked city, while the masses will have the fate of the citizens of the ignorant city.[75]

                When cutting through all the layers of al-Fārābī’s metaphysics, one can begin to talk about his concept of ‘adl (i.e., justice).  Al-Fārābī takes great care to chart the views of the citizens outside the guidance of the virtuous city, noting their improper concept of justice.  The ignorant city asserts, “Justice is to defeat by force every possible group of men which happens to be in one’s way.”[76]  This conception justifies the massacre, subjugation, and enslavement of those who are overpowered—all the livelihood of the conquered shall be for the benefit of the conqueror.  Since it is natural for humankind to gain power over each other to possess the advantage, it follows that this act, to benefit the victor, is naturally just.  They erringly believe, “natural justice consists in all this, and this is moral excellence, and theses actions are morally excellent.”[77]  Allowing that such state of war does not last forever, he begins to explicate how people come to a time a peace.  Peace, for the ignorant city, is only realized when a compact is made between two rival groups, “but that happens only when everybody feels weak in relation to everybody and everybody is afraid of everybody.”[78]  This highly resembles Augustine’s concept of society as an armistice—foreshadowing Hobbes’ Leviathan.  After which, a common cause becomes first possible.  A generation living under a period of this mutual fear may mistake this time as being justice as well; however, al-Fārābī avers, “they … think that justice is what they find in their own day and … [are] unaware that it is just fear and weakness, and they will be deceived in using the term ‘justice’ in that way.”[79] 

                Al-Fārābī distances himself from all the views of the cities as summarized above.  Real justice must be found in balance and educating the ignorant about the just path.[80]  Like all his other principles, al-Fārābī looks to the created order found in all things.  Justice in the world must be considered as balance because the activities of the universe and the celestial bodies resemble relationships in accordance with this principle.[81]  This idea trickles down all the way into the societies of men.  As is true all throughout Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al-fādilah, justice finds its key praxis in al-Fārābī’s conception of the ruler.  Bayrakli calls this justice “juridical justice,” and summarizes al­ al-Fārābī’s views in this statement, “Justice is the insistence of the head of state on righteousness in his relatives as much as in others, his inviting them to the right, his defense of the oppressed and support of that which is know to be good and beautiful.”[82]  Justice involves the personal and cultural transformation towards a pedagogical preservation of a society ordered with balance.  The root of all virtues is justice and must be acquired through acquiescence to those before us.[83]

                Though al-Fārābī’s Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al-fādilah speaks of the varying states in critical and ideal terms with obvious preferences and rebukes concerning specific cities, Richard Walzer comments that,

Al-Fārābī does not believe that faulty states can be reformed by political uprisings.  He rejects every form of violence and puts his trust rather in education through philosophy: this distinguishes him from most would-be reformers in the Muslim World.  He neither sponsors any political movement himself, nor is he claimed by any such movement as its authority or protector [emphasis mine].[84]

 

Al-Fārābī’s thought did, indeed, successfully change his political adversaries through his non-violent means of didactic philosophy.  Especially under the Fatimids (969-1171 A.D.), the Isma’ili Shi’a sect had been permeated the most by philosophical ideologies, and after al-Fārābī’s writings criticized major defects within their beliefs, the Isma’ili thinkers greatly revised their cosmology and repudiated their antinomian tendencies by once again recognizing their obligation to divinely revealed law.

                Al-Fārābī builds his society in the abstruse clouds of Hellenistic philosophy while intertwining shades of Islamic culture.  Paradoxically, though his archetypal city may seem so afar off, it is replete with allusions to cities actually in existence as well as his chronicle of cities that have fallen in error.  Though in terms not akin to modern political thought, he covers thoroughly such issues as “What are human rights and the governments rights?”  Contrasts exist in the fact that al-Fārābī rarely speaks in terms of individuals and their specifically unique cases.  So in determining the micro-sociological intricacies of his political philosophy, I have been forced to appeal to his historical surroundings.  This, in the end, is justified, for though one cannot determine his approval or disapproval of the practices expounded upon, two assertions can be determined.  One, al-Fārābī builds from the ‘Abbasid regime to construct his archetype of the perfect state and certainly favors the establishment opposing in attempt to reform that is contrary to that instituted system.  Secondly, his political philosophy provides no means whereby one can find a critique or disallowance of the practices.

—™

Saint Thomas Aquinas

                Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274 A.D.) lived and wrote during a time of papal absolutism wherein, as the only centralizing figure of Europe, the pope and the ecclesiastical institutions held politics in the chokehold of religion.  This was a time of Medieval backwardness, ruthless and inane crusades, corrupt religion, but also a time of renewed interest in Aristotelian philosophy and science—known as Scholasticism.  Thomas’ life sat between two popes of polar contrast—his lifetime overlapping neither papal office.  Innocent III (1161-1216 A.D.) brought the papacy to the zenith of its power.  Believing himself to be the ‘vicar of Christ’, he, therefore, averred all political leadership to be subject to him.  Wielding this power, Innocent III dominated and manipulated Phillip of France, John of England, and gained political control of the Holy Roman Empire through utilizing papal powers such as interdict and excommunication.  Showing that Thomas lived near the precipice of papal supremacy, Boniface VIII’s pathetic papacy collapses—leading to Clement V’s relocation of the papacy to Avignon—a couple decades after his death.  Phillip the fair kidnapped the nadir of popes, Boniface VIII, forever subjugating the papacy to the power of the rising nation-state.  Thomas wrote and studied after the end of the incredible power of Innocent III; however, he never lived to see the papal decline; thus, he is situated in comfortable complacence with regard to the Roman Church’s authority.

                Thomas joined the Dominican order much to the dismay of his mother who was Frederick Barbarrosa’s sister.  His family actually took quite hilarious means to turn him from his decision to dedicate himself to the church and study; however, Thomas steadfastly studied theology and Aristotelian philosophy while mentored by Albertus Magnus.  Eventually, Thomas Aquinas would become the greatest of the Scholastic scholars and of the medieval church.  The pope commissioned Thomas to develop a synthesis of both means of obtaining truth—the revelation of the Church and philosophy of the Greeks.  Christian Scholasticism had only recently re-encountered Hellenist philosophy; however, it was being re-introduced through non-Christian scholars.  Through Averroes’s (ibn Rushd) translation of Aristotle, Muslim Spain made Christian Europe’s studies of classical philosophy possible.  Thomas’ main writings would be Summa Theolgoiæ (Summary of Theology) and Summa Contra Gentiles (Summary Against the Pagans), a handbook for Dominican missionaries among Muslims.  In addition to these two works, I shall be utilizing a letter to the King of Cypurs written by Thomas known as De Regimine Principum, or On Kingship.

                Whereas Aristotle held that man is merely a political animal, Aquinas, while conceding to this, adds “man is naturally a social animal [emphasis mine].”[85]  This subtle change has large implications for the remainder of Aquinas’ political thought; thus, I have began here.  As one writer states, “St. Thomas is implicitly saying that man’s political nature … is grounded in something more than man’s social need to live with others for the sake of his physical, moral and intellectual development; it is grounded in man’s social need for companions or friendship.”[86]  The purpose of defining man as such in Aquinas is not to point to his final and ultimate end; rather, his categorization of man as a political and social animal[87] does “no more than assert our social not solitary nature, our need to have interpersonal relationships.”[88]  This idea of society as the locus for interpersonal relationship makes the state the positive goal of human relations,[89] for according to Thomas, “the purpose of the state is to provide for the material, intellectual, moral, and spiritual needs of man.”[90]  Thomas affirms Aristotle in that “we are ‘naturally civil animals’ because we are naturally parts of a civitas (Gk., polis), which stand to other natural communities as an end.”[91]  Yet, though a political community is the end of all communities, or the highest attainment thereof, it is not the end of humanity—or even the common good. 

                Writing against the background of Augustinian theology and deciding, instead, to side with Aristotle, albeit with slight moderation, equals a huge step for Thomas.  Societies, governments, and social structures of all types no longer exist as providential dams restraining the deluge of sin in the world.  Formations of political communities and the organizations thereof grow out of humankind’s innate, God-ordained nature.  Beyond this, Thomas creates a means whereby one can ascribe positive, optimistic value to the political life.[92]  Political life derives its goodness from the goodness of the interrelation of human beings in harmony,

Because man is naturally a social being… in the state of innocence he would have led a social life.  Now a social life cannot exist among a number of people unless under the presidency of one to look after the common good; for many, as such, seek many things, whereas one attends only to one.  Wherefore the Philosopher [i.e., Aristotle] says, in the beginning of the Politics, that wherever many things are directed to one, we shall always find one at the head directing them.[93]

 

Thomas, then, uses a different idea than Aristotle to base his conception of the goal of political community, or ‘the common good’.  For Thomas, “The common good is more than the well-being of each individual added up to make the good of the whole.  The common good is [also] not just the collective sum of the individual goods.”[94]  Once again supplementing Aristotle, Aquinas adds the dimensions of human experience found in the Christian faith.  Thomas equates the Supreme Good with the common good,

Now the supreme good, namely God, is the common good, since the good of all tings depend on him; and the good whereby each thing is good, is the particular good of that thing, and of those that depend thereon.  Therefore all things are directed to one good, God to wit, as their end.[95]

 

In creation, all things are directed towards God, and “they are directed to Him so that in their own way they may gain from God God Himself, since He Himself is their end.”[96]

                Coming from such a historically situated person such as Thomas, one might find his assertion that God is the common good of humankind as typical—being immersed in such a Church-dominated society.  However, one writer feels that “introducing God into the realm of the common good does not imply a church dominated society.”[97]  Thomas himself dictates,

We must observe that dominion and authority are institutions of human law, while the distinction between faithful and unbelievers arises from the Divine law. Now the Divine law which is the law of grace, does not do away with human law which is the law of natural reason. Wherefore the distinction between faithful and unbelievers, considered in itself, does not do away with dominion and authority of unbelievers over the faithful.[98]

 

This leads Zagar to believe that this assertion, “opens the door to an understanding and autonomy of secular values that has not always been characteristic of the Christian mentality [i.e.,  not allowing for secular authority beyond the acknowledgement of the Church];”[99]  however, Thomas cannot truly be said to authorize or even promote the notoin that secular authority can ever truly escape the grasps of the Church.  For he also writes following the paragraph above,

Nevertheless this right of dominion or authority can be justly done away with by the sentence or ordination of the Church who has the authority of God: since unbelievers in virtue of their unbelief deserve to forfeit their power over the faithful who are converted into children of God [emphasis mine].[100]

 

Thus, one must be careful not to view Thomas’ views anachronistically.  In the arena of church-state interrelation, he was more or less bound to his own time.

                Nevertheless, perhaps Thomas’ most groundbreaking assertion is the revitalization of the belief that law must itself be product of reason—and not convention, tradition, etc.[101]  If law is based on reason and law is the product of a ‘state’, then the state must also be ruled reasonably.   While all law is based upon reason, there are various kinds of law.  Thomas lists four: eternal law, natural law, human law, and divine line.  Each posses their own unique characteristics but are also connected.  Eternal, natural and human laws relate to each other in a hierarchal form, yet divine law is unique.  Thomas observes that the,

whole community of the universe is governed by Divine Reason. Wherefore the very Idea of the government of things in God the Ruler of the universe, has the nature of a law. And since the Divine Reason's conception of things is not subject to time but is eternal, according to Prov. 8:23, therefore it is this kind of law that must be called eternal.[102]

 

Concerning natural law, it suffices to define it as “nothing else than the rational creature's participation of the eternal law.”[103]  Since human beings in making laws must, from natural law, “proceed to the more particular determination of certain matters,” this creation of determined particulars is human law.[104]  If men can discover these things by innate capacities of the reasoning faculty, then what need is there of any divine law?  Does not reason, therefore, reach the Divine Reason which promulgates the eternal law?  Ingeniously, Thomas states four reasons for the necessity of divine law:

1.        First, because it is by law that man is directed how to perform his proper acts in view of his last end. 

2.        Secondly, because, on account of the uncertainty of human judgment, especially on contingent and particular matters, different people form different judgments on human acts; therefore, that man may know without any doubt what he ought to do and what he ought to avoid, it was necessary for man to be directed in his proper acts by a law given by God, for it is certain that such a law cannot err. 

3.        Thirdly, because man can make laws in those matters of which he is competent to judge. But man is not competent to judge of interior movements…  Consequently human law could not sufficiently curb and direct interior acts; and it was necessary for this purpose that a Divine law should supervene.

4.        Fourthly, because, as Augustine says (De Lib. Arb. i, 5,6), human law cannot punish or forbid all evil deeds: since while aiming at doing away with all evils, it would do away with many good things, and would hinder the advance of the common good, which is necessary for human intercourse. In order, therefore, that no evil might remain unforbidden and unpunished, it was necessary for the Divine law to supervene, whereby all sins are forbidden. [105]

Thomas’ genius appears in his ability to elucidate that divine law is not an appendix to the laws which govern society, nor is it an afterthought, but it is essential to the comprehensive experience of the human lifetime; wherefore, humankind may be conscious of the applicability of justice to all affairs. 

                Wrapping up the necessary foundational examination, we must discern what type of state Thomas believes creates the best society; i.e., the state which shall be most steadfast to its foundation (the common good), most reverent and respecting of the Church domain, and will most likely be founded upon true law established by human reason and, therefore, God’s ordination of the universe.  Thomas favors monarchy—but not absolute monarchy:

Accordingly, the best form of government is in a state or kingdom, where one is given the power to preside over all; while under him are others having governing powers: and yet a government of this kind is shared by all, both because all are eligible to govern, and because the rules are chosen by all.  For this is the best form of polity, being partly kingdom, since there is one at the head of all; partly aristocracy, in so far as a number of persons are set in authority; partly democracy, i.e. government by the people, in so far as the rulers can be chosen from the people, and the people have the right to choose their rulers.[106]

 

Thomas notes, “Such was the form of government established by the Divine Law [i.e., the Law revealed to Moses].”[107]  In De Regimine Principum, Thomas reasons that since “to procure the unity of peace” is the purpose of ruling body and “the more efficacious a government is in keeping the unity of peace, the more useful it will be,” then, therefore, “the rule of one man is more useful than the rule of many.”[108]  The functions of a king as figurehead facilitates the unity needed in society in order to make a common bond between the people of the state.  He is “one man who is chief and … a shepherd seeking the common good of the multitude and not his own.”[109]  This was, of course, before the rise of nationalism, so it appears to be perfectly reasonable in Thomas’ era.  Interestingly, Thomas’ conception of the monarchy does not entail the usurpation of all power by the king—governing duties are distributed to bodies of aristocratic and democratic nature; thus, the powers of government are balanced and never rest supremely in the hands of one authority.  Thomas’ monarchy resembles a constitutional monarchy.

                Thomas writes, “Just as the government of a king is the best, so the government of a tyrant is the worst.”[110]  So being that a king is one who seeks not his own good, but the common good as shepherd, a tyrant’s “government becomes unjust by the fact that the ruler, paying no heed to the common good, seeks his own private good.”[111]  The foundation of all societies being the striving towards the common good, tyranny is not only the worst governance, but Thomas believes it to be illegitimate because it is contrary to society itself.  “Like a roaring lion or a charging bear is a wicked ruler over a poor people” (Proverbs 28.15).  Though Thomas believes, “the sovereign is above the law,” this is only, “in so far as, when it is expedient, he can change the law, and dispense in it according to time and place.”[112]  But, this assertion must be taken into consideration along with Thomas’ assertion, “in the judgment of God, the sovereign is not exempt from the law, as to its directive force.”[113]  For human law, made by a sovereign, is rightfully law only when in congruence with natural and eternal law—being at all times immanently accountable to the all-encompassing Divine Law.  A tyrant may be overthrown because he is not just.  Though sedition “is contrary to the unity of the multitude” and a sin for Thomas, to be seditious in the case of a tyrannical regime is impossible, for “it is the tyrant rather that is guilty of sedition, since he encourages discord and sedition among his subjects, that he may lord over them more securely; for this is tyranny, being conducive to the private good of the ruler, and to the injury of the multitude.”[114]  Allowance for the disposal of a tyrant must not be seen as haphazard.  Finnis notes that Thomas stipulates that, “would-be liberators must as always consider also the unintended effects of their attempt.”[115]  Thomas himself warns that the liberators are, indeed, guilty of sedition if “the tyrant's rule be disturbed so inordinately, that his subjects suffer greater harm from the consequent disturbance than from the tyrant's government.”[116]  Because of this danger, Thomas recommends the “action to be undertaken, not through the private presumption of a few, but rather by public authority.”[117]

                Before continuing onto the domestic duties of a state in Thomas’ thought, we must examine his views of humans under the law, i.e., their rights.  To speak of Thomas possessing a doctrine of human rights appears on the surface to be anachronistic since such ideas came as the product of the Enlightenment in Europe.  Nevertheless, many thinkers throughout history and around the Earth have had a perception and cognitive grasp of human dignity and the sacredness of individual rights; therefore, giving the term a somewhat flexible definition, we shall proceed to speak of Thomas’ conceptualization of human rights.  I would agree with Finnis that, “Though he never uses a term translatable as ‘human rights’, Aquinas clearly has the concept.”[118]  Thomas himself concedes that “by nature all men are equal.”[119]    Thus, this equality must span the horizon of all peoples and minorities in his society and beyond his society.  Men have this privilege; however, Thomas is infamous for his views concerning the subordination of women—which he perceives as evident from Aristotelian biology.[120]  Though his views on women as subordinate are harsh and at times outright ignorant, Thomas does not deny women these rights.  As Finnis explains:

Aquinas’ statements about the subordination of women must be read with great caution…  All the rights which belong to us as human personas belong to females equally with males, including not only the rights not to be physically harmed, cheated, robbed, defamed, deceived, and so forth, but also the right to choose a vocation such as marriage or the ‘religious’ life and to decide for oneself which spouse, ‘religious house’, etc., and the right to subscribe or refuse to subscribe to a religious faith.  Women have legal and moral rights of ownership, management, and disposition of property.[121]

 

These rights she shares equally with men, for “The image of God, …namely the intellectual nature, is found both in man and in woman.”[122]  Thomas is reluctant to confer ideas of justice and right between two unequals, such as master and slave or father and son;[123] however, Finnis notes also that this must be understood in light of Thomas’ assertion that, “Children are owed—and so have a right to—nurture, education and moral formation {discplina} by their parents.”[124] Justice is, then, for a parent to provide these required needs of their children, which they owe the child because of its intrinsic quality as a human.  Each human being as created in the image of God deserves to be, in effect, the recipients of vitality and protection. 

                “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help” (1 John 3.17)?  Those who lack vitality and protection have rights to have this provided on their behalf by those who possess abundance.[125]  To this end, Thomas develops extensively the alms-giving deed, which he separates into two types: spiritual alms and corporeal alms.[126]  Thomas does this in an expandable dimension, like the pillar zakat in Islam.  Analyzed along with Aquinas’ writings on property, one can perceive the possible advocacy of a welfare system for the disenfranchised, impoverished, sick, and elderly.  Concerning property rights, Finnis notes that Thomas differentiates two different periods of property ownership, that of  “absolute necessity” and that of “relative necessity.”[127]  In Thomas’ thought, Finnis notes that that, “For anyone in dire necessity, nothing belongs to anyone in particular”;[128] however,

In situations where no one confronts extreme necessity, the rights of owners and other property-holders to keep their property extends just as far as their … need to maintain themselves (with their dependents) in the form of life which they have reasonably adopted.  All their further resources … are ‘held in common’: all these resources should be made available to those (‘the poor’) who, though not in extreme necessity, lack the resources to satisfy their … needs [i.e. of relative necessity].  The poor have a natural right that the whole of this residuum [i.e. further resources] be distributed in their favor.[129]

Thomas leaves the just level of resources to be kept by the owner, “indeterminate.”[130] Thomas believes the government to be the proper force and bearer of the responsibility to distribute all goods fairly, and payment of tax enables the government to free the individual from this duty of distribution.[131]  In his own words, Thomas writes, housekeepers or civil servants [i.e., rulers] … have to provide the household or the state with the necessaries of life.”[132]  Government initiatives such as job security, disaster relief, affirmative action, etc. are all harmonious with Thomas’ conception of the state.

                Surely, the naïveté of Thomas regarding the modern economic mechanisms makes him irrelevant to any real discussion of politics and the economy.  After all, he lived during an age of feudal-manorial economy.  Take his views on usury for example, “To take usury for money lent is unjust in itself, because this is to sell what does not exist, and this evidently leads to inequality which is contrary to justice.”[133]  How can such a medieval view of economy, which denies allowance for interest (upon which our whole economical system has evolved), be relevant to this discussion.  I see there are two possibilities that may rescue Thomas’ thought from the obscurity of a quaint relic.  John Finnis relates the first,

Aquinas’ account of usury, taken with his general theory of compensation, thus identifies principles (not rule made up by moralists or ecclesiastics) which enable us to see why in his era it was unjust for lenders to make a charge (however described) in the nature of profit, but with the development of a capital market for both equities and bonds it was to become fair and reasonable to make precisely such a charge, correlated with (which is not to say identical to) the general rate of return on equities.[134]

 

If we are to follow Finnis, we will concluded that, while the principles of Thomas lead him to conclude that usury was wrong in his historical context, if he applied those principles to today his conclusions would be radically different.  A radically different context creates radically different conclusions even though the same principles are applied. 

I suggest a contrary possibility.  It can indeed be the case that Thomas, applying his same principles, would condemn the present capitalist economy.  Not in the communist sense of course, that would ridiculous and anachronistic; however, taking into account the ecological carnage and commercialization of human virtue, I cannot see Thomas in total approval.  Though nothing concrete or systematic can be derived from Thomas’ historically bound analysis, I assert that Thomas’ systems of providing for every human being in the state his basic need makes no room for a laissez-faire economic policy encouraging uninhibited economic growth.  Contrary to the economic approach today, he favors economic regulation before economic growth.   Through taxation, a larger proportion of which coming from the rich (see above), and regulation of the distribution of economic wealth, Thomas believes there can truly arise a society wherein every individual may find their basic needs (i.e., ‘absolute necessity’ as defined above) met.

                Last to be examined in regards to our modern political concerns is that of international relations.  Bound to the epoch of crusades, one is reluctant to ask for any counsel from a member of such a society that would religiously censure such arbitrary and shameful wars.  Nevertheless, the failure to apply principles or the misapplication of those same principles fails to debunk the principles in and of themselves.  Within the concern of international politics, Thomas focuses upon war and what qualifications can make an atrocity such as war just.  According to Finnis, “Aquinas’ discussion of just war is focused upon the decision to initiate war.  It goes without saying that a state actually attacked by outside forces … can rightly defend itself…  His discussion, therefore, is seeking to explain when actions … called ‘aggression’ can be justified.”[135]  Thomas gives three qualifications:

1.        the authority of the sovereign by whose command the war is to be waged

2.        a just cause is required, namely that those who are attacked, should be attacked because they deserve it on account of some fault.

3.        it is necessary that the belligerents should have a rightful intention, so that they intend the advancement of good, or the avoidance of evil.[136]

 

Politics are, indeed, not so simple unfortunately.  These precepts are difficult to swallow when one realizes that each faction in a war has its own ideologies, which it considers just and of ‘rightful intention.’  This reasoning comes precariously close to justifying establishmentarianism—a scary consequence during the Cold War in even in this post-Cold War society.  Christensen and King-Farlow argue that this conclusion is faulty taken in light of Thomas’ entire system of thought:

If the Natural Law forbids us to cause pointless death and pain, if the Natural Law urges us to have a brotherly concern for all men everywhere according to the Gold Rule, and if every society’s Common-Welfare-in-the-Twentieth-Century is now rather clearly avoiding a nuclear holocaust, then any modern government that St. Thomas would consider authoritatively sovereign would be bound today to be greatly concerned with the protection of world peace and with international cooperation.[137]

 

I agree; however, Thomas writings still are anemic and applicable only in a very broad sense to this modern political situation regarding the peril of war and relation to international neighbors.

—™

 

               

                In his examination of Christian paradigms for understanding the unique dialectic between faith and culture, H. Richard Niebuhr describes Augustine as a “theologian of cultural transformation by Christ.”[138]  Thus, Augustine’s thought never fully reaches the realm of pure political thinking.  Intrinsic to his concerns is the power of Christ to transform the institutions of the human world, both immanently and eschatologically.  On the other hand, H. R. Niebuhr notes, “Thomas sought to synthesize the ethics of culture with the ethics of gospel.”[139]  Thomas ventures into pure legal and political theory for this reason.  Well versed in Aristotelian thought as well as ecclesiastical traditions, his thought is the intricate weaving of many threads into one pattern to adorn Christendom.  Unlike Thomas and Augustine, al-Fārābī is Muslim; however, his thought does not develop aloof to Islam in his society.  In many ways, he is similar to Thomas, yet al-Fārābī is no theologian.  Al-Fārābī raises philosophic inquiry above revelation and faith, but he steadfastly endorses religion as the major vehicle to deliver truth to the population’s majority.  All three are men who write about politics, philosophy, and theology seeing these three arenas intimately intertwined with an understanding of the structures of society and the responsibilities of its institutions.  Surveying these three men of history, I believe three general categories arise which divide these men greatly from mainstream, modern political thinking: religion and state relationship, economic justice, and war.

               Responding to the query of what the gospel has to do with politics, Leslie Newbigin begins by tracing the ideological source of the Western objection to religion being involved in politics.  The repellence of the church from the political arena falls directly “in line with the post-Enlightenment division of human life into the public world of facts and the private world of value,” and in turn, this post-Enlightenment mindset insists “that the church should be involved in politics … [because] the proper business of the church is the salvation of the individual soul.”[140]  In accord with many other theologians, he emphasizes that this is “a dichotomy that has been characteristic of a great deal of human religious thought but is notably absent from the Bible.”[141]  If we are to question, then, this axiomatic belief of American society, we must point to where our arguments are heading.  Certainly this is not a call for the retraction of the liberal ideas that removed many of the oppressive structures of the Medieval period.  I am certainly not for a return to the era when fear of papal interdict subdued the kings of Europe.  However, I am suggesting that religious practice and action inevitably has political consequence.  Whether your belief is Islam or Christianity, it is impossible for your religion to truly be practiced and remain apolitical.  Only a ridiculous fool would utter such nonsense after pondering the modern history of the Middle East. 

For simplification, I am polarizing the thought of Augustine, Thomas, and al-Fārābī on religion and the state to that of the modern conception.  Both are extremes to be avoided.  Augustine’s error is one of excusable optimism.  Though the sack of Rome injured Augustine’s optimism, he nonetheless began to lean towards using the government as tool of the Roman Church in times of desperation.  He mistakenly entrusted the purification of one human institution (i.e., the state) with the power of another human institution (i.e., the church).  Al-Fārābī and Thomas fail to provide the answers not because these men were not perceptive enough to see the evils of intermingling church and state; rather, they fail because their acceptance of the conventions of their time date them.  Their error lies in equating divine authority with a religious institution.  Al-Fārābī’s problem is more complicated because of the dual nature of the office of Caliphate.  Thomas exalted the Roman Church to such a height that their control of political affairs nearly paralleled the Caliphate.  The modern situation is radically different.  Past ecclesiastical institutions are fragmented, decentralized, and show no sign of future conglomeration.  To speak of religious involvement with politics, then, is to the exclusion of any reference to any centralized institution.  If we are to speak of a more intimate connection between state and religion, the social paradigms are radically different.  Thus, there can be no state religion, no coercive force requiring citizens to believe in faith; however, there can remain the contributive redemptive and liberating power of religious belief and social initiative.  Augustine, al-Fārābī, and Aquinas essentially endorsed this function, but misappropriated the responsibility to an institution of absolute authority without accountability.

                Before discussing economics, it is necessary to further describe the nature of this political role of religion.  A Christian political ethic must found itself upon what is qualitatively different about Christianity—Jesus Christ.  The Bible is of great use, but its use for political thought is limited.  It promotes no single government.  In Judges, it appears to promote pure theocracy mediated by the Levitical priests, and in other parts, its appear to promulgate monarchy by divine-right.  The New Testament seems to acquiesce to Caesar’s rule, while it organizes its community around the Twelve in a type of oligarchic socialism (cf. Acts 2, 15).  Despite this ambiguity, belief in the Messiah entails something political, for the Messiah is a figure of political transformation (among other things).  Taking Jesus’ life as the model, can we then conceive of a type of ‘messianic ethic’ for politics?  This approach I would like to promulgate and utilize the assertion that faith can neither be excluded from politics nor partitioned off into the realm of the apolitical.  A messianic ethic is not as simple as the popular adage, “What would Jesus do?”[142]  It entails critical study of his life, context, and message of his community, which he initiated.  Still, many difficulties beset us when trying to hone down an ethic  founded upon the life and teaching of Jesus Christ.  Many theologians have found that the principles of Jesus’ ethics, such as in the Sermon on the Mount, are just irrelevant to modern social and political ethics.  Yoder lists some of the objections popularly given:

1.        The ethic of Jesus is an ethic for an “Interim” which Jesus thought would be very brief.  It is possible for the apocalyptic Sermonizer on the Mount to be unconcerned for the survival of the structures of a solid society because he thinks the world is passing away soon.  His ethical teachings therefore appropriately pay no attention to society’s need for survival and for the patient construction of permanent institutions…  Thus at any point where social ethics must deal with problems of duration, Jesus quite clearly can be of no help.

2.        Jesus was … a simple rural figure…  His radical personalization of all ethical problems is only possible in a village society…  There is thus in the ethic of Jesus no intention to speaking substantially about the problems of complex organization.

3.        The [modern] Christian is obligated to answer questions which Jesus did not face.

4.        [Jesus] dealt with spiritual and not social matters, with the existential and not the concrete.

5.        [Jesus spoke of the will of God.]  The will of God cannot be identified with one ethical answer, or any given human value, since these are all finite. 

6.        Jesus came … to give his life for the sins of humankind.  The work of atonement … is a forensic act, a gracious gift … but should never be correlated with ethics.  How the death of Jesus works our justification is a divine miracle and mystery; how he died, or the kind of life which led to the kind of death he died, is therefore for ethically immaterial.[143]

 

Though the scope of this essay cannot provide a refutation for each objection, I suggest that the deficit existing in these objections is their failure to consider Jesus’ life and message holistically.  Jesus lived an uncanny life critical and transformative to the mainstream he entered and mournfully decried.  Hans Küng gives an incredible depiction of the transcendent, lasting character of Jesus life by contrasting his message with the ideologies of his contemporaries:

·                      The Religio-Politcal Establishment: Jesus showed little regard for the political and religious status quo.  He was neither priest nor theologian (Lk. 2.41-52; Mk. 6.2; Jn. 7.15), and His authority was not from men.  He even made threatening prophecies against the temple-cult (Mk. 13.2; cf. Mt. 24.2 and Lk. 21.6). Rather than legitimizing the establishments of his day, He awaited the eschatological fulfillment of all things (Mt. 24:32ff).

·                      The Revolutionary Movement: The Zealots hoping to overthrow the Roman empire and set a new order of Jewish power cannot be associated with Jesus.  His message was certainly revolutionary— but not in that sense.  He did not encourage resisting the evil forces with violence nor for setting up His own historical Kingdom on earth (Mt. 5, Jn. 18.36).

·                      Emigration from the World: Jesus did not preach the apolitical escapism or elitism of the Essenes of the Qumran community (Mt. 24.26). During his life, Jesus and disciples were chided often for not being ascetic enough (Mt. 9.14ff, 15.1ff; Mk. 2.18ff, 3.23ff; etc). God and not men, He preached, would separate the redeemed and damned (Mt. 25.31ff).

·                      Compromise and Survival: Jesus cannot be spoken of as the Pharisees who sought to strengthen their people by strict observance to the Law (Mt. 23). He recognized no ritual taboos, advocated neither asceticism nor fasting, and was not scrupulous in tithe or Sabbath observances.  Unlike the Pharisse, he did not find the solution in fortifying the religious observance of his people per se under Roman rule—he sought their emancipation from oppressive structures.[144]

So despite such objections as presented above, we find that there remains the liberating power of the Gospel and the kerygma of the Apostles (i.e., the preaching of God’s Reign or Kingdom), which demands the emancipation of people from oppressive situations.  It is both this-worldly and other-worldly.  Latin American liberation theologian, Gustovo Gutiérez writes,

The deep impact and the social transformation that the Gospel entails is permanent and essential because it transcends the narrow limits of specific historical situations and goes to the very root of human existence: the relation with God in solidarity with other persons.  The Gospel does not get its political dimension from on or another political option, but form the very nucleus of its message.[145]

 

The eminent modern theologian Jürgen Moltmann shows shock that theologians have failed to see the political and social implications of some of its most debated and examined dogmas of Christianity:

It is surprising that Protestant theology has not noticed the analogy between God’s ‘justifying’ righteousness and his righteousness that ‘creates justice’… for just as in Paul the justification of the sinner becomes the revelation of God’s righteousness in the world, so in the Old Testament the establishing of justice for people deprived of it is the quintessence of the divine mercy, and hence of the divine righteousness.[146]

 

I find this of particular importance in regard to the relevance of the Christian message to reform or recreate unjust institutions.  Though individuals’ souls are the direct concern of God, salvation relates to the Sitz im Leben of every human being; thus, salvation entails social structures made of and by human beings as well.  Institutional sin can often be more perilous than an individual’s sin.  As Reinhold Niebuhr writes, “collective egotism and group pride are often a more pregnant source of injustice and conflict than purely individual pride.”[147]  Was not Jesus struggling for the redemption of institutions as well when he said, “Is it not written: ‘My house will be called a house of prayer for all nations; But you have made it ‘a den of robbers’” (Mark 11.17; NIV)?  In a Christians affirmation of the world and justice, we may say, “History moves towards the realization of the Kingdom [of God] but yet the judgment of God is upon every new realization,”[148] for God’s infinite justice can never equivocated with any finite historical institution.  Christianity is, thus, a catalyst for justice and a perennial critic of human justice.  Moreover, it is not only relevant but also vitally crucial to the survival and well-being of human society and politics.

                 Augustine, al-Fārābī, and Thomas dispute the foundations of our economic system.  Al-Fārābī places the fate of the entire people in the hands of the ruler.  We would find this uncomfortable; however, when looking at the policies of the Islamic government of his time, we can understand why.  The waqf and zakat systems really are quite amazing, and the lack of thereof in Western societies is sorely noted.  Could the Christian Churches adopt such a mandatory practice as an institution?  I would not have hesitation in doing so, though many of my brothers and sisters would be unsettled by Christening an Islamic practice.  Augustine harshly described the government as a group of thieves forcing themselves upon the possessions of the ruled—merely justified by the impunity acquired through their brutality; however, he does show a notion of Christianity charity and favor for the poor and wretched of the earth.  Thomas’ economic thought in my reading parallels such thinkers as Michael Walzer; wherein, money must be balanced as a means to attain some ends but not all.  Though their views are quite diverse, I see a common thread woven through them all.  Their economic opinions are based upon community mindedness and group ethics.  This is the exact opposite of the capitalist system,

Economic theory builds on the propensity of individuals to act so as to optimize their own interests, a propensity clearly operative in market transactions and in many other areas of life.  Economists typically identify intelligent pursuit of private gain with rationality, thus implying other modes of behavior are not rational.  These modes include other-regarding behavior and actions directed to the public good [emphasis mine].[149]

 

This, like the previous topic, is not a call to back treading to pre-modern views of the economy, nor will it be socialist.  Such a foundational principle is inherently despicable to Augustine, al-Fārābī, and Thomas.  Al-Fārābī typifies this action specifically as a defect of the non-virtuous city.  All Christian thought, especially starting with Augustine, who would influence Thomas’ opinion highly, considers this akin to the part of humanity considered ‘fallen’.  The foundational axioms of modern economic theory exacerbate those malevolent aspects of human nature by causing them to flourish.  According to such theorizing, it is the most rational approach, yet faith defies this principle as the source of any human action that may be viewed as rational or apposite.  Neither Augustine, al-Fārābī, nor Thomas would advocate socialist approaches just as they would refuse the capitalist system—mainly because this polarization occurs after their respective eras.  The tension arises from the twofold nature of human rights found in post-Enlightenment thinking: freedom and equality.  Leslie Newbigin elucidates:

Both capitalism and socialism draw strength from a vision of human life, and this vision sustains them in face of their failures.  For capitalism it is the vision of freedom—the freedom of the individual person to develop his own powers, to achieve the greatest success he is capable of and to enjoy the fruit of his achievement.  For socialism it is the vision of equality…  In one case freedom is pursued at the cost of equality; in the other, equality is pursued at the cost of freedom.[150]

 

As David C. Korten observes, “societies based on extremist ideologies of either the far left (rigid collectivism) or the far right (ruthless individualism) are inherently unstable.”[151]  However, what are our options?  Taking a step back into the community mindedness of Augustine, al-Fārābī, and Thomas, we see a glimpse of the solution.  The focus should not be upon the rights of individuals but upon the inter-relatedness of individuals—such as is true of the Biblical and Messianic model. 

This cannot be expected to happen upon its own volition—as if an automatic mechanism of the economic process.  Laissez-faire approaches are untenable but so are socialist ones.  The assertion that,  “A political community cannot be healthy if it cannot exercise a significant measure of control over its economic life”[152] is paramount.  Our global economic assumptions have not only been exploitive towards human beings but currently wreaks havoc upon the global ecosystem.  Humans have become a planetary disease in which “Growth is for the sake of growth and is not determined by any overarching social purpose.  And that, of course, is an exact account of the phenomenon which, when it occurs in the human body, is called cancer [emphasis mine].”[153]  Referring to this exact metaphor, Korten realizes that, “capitalism as cancer is less a metaphor than a clinical diagnosis of a pathology to which market economies are prone in the absence of adequate citizen and government oversight.  Our hope for the future is to restore the health of our democracies and market economies by purging them of the pathology.”[154]  Many would object that Augustine, al-Fārābī, and Thomas have conceptions of economies so backward that to speak of their ideas possessing ability to reform our own is ridiculous.  All three were against usury, i.e., interest, and advanced economies would collapse without such conventions in place.  However, as John Finnis observed (see above), the condemnation of usury by Thomas was in concern for justice, but today, it could be more just to charge interest.  Al-Fārābī was ascertained to be opposed to usury; however, I derived this conclusion from the Islamic religion’s prohibition thereof.  Many modern Islamic scholars still consider usury forbidden today; however, many scholars also believe this must be understood only as “a loan at excessive cost … exploiting the need of the borrower.”[155]  Therefore, this objection is truly unsubstantiated.  Our directions need to be refocused not upon economic growth but on sustainable and healthy societies wherein there is lack of exploitation and there exists democratic control over the production of goods and distribution of wealth.  Job security; social security; welfare for the poor, sick and old; and education will return to the control of the people if power consolidates once again in communities and is removed from large corporate entities and corporately funded, detached government bureaucracies.   This is all the responsibility of a the government, but the government’s responsibility can only be legitimated through its interest in people’s welfare—the common good.

Integral to the responsibility of the government to insure the welfare of its citizens is its responsibility to ensure the protection and security of its citizens.  This is founded upon the belief in the intrinsic, equal worth of all human life.  This concept has been expanding in modern times, and what once was vehemently disputed has become part of the foundational axioms of our society.  With the advent of the United Nations and increased travel and communication capabilities, we have seen these ideas expanding to include all human beings.  We have a significantly different society.  It has become a global society.  Augustine, al-Fārābī, and Aquinas could have never conceived of this in their time beyond the notion of empire, which modern society rejects outright.  Though I have drawn positive conclusions from their philosophy thus far, I must now verge into different territory.  In modern society, there can be no justifiable war.  Perhaps this was so in the times of the ancients or medievals, but this epoch is radically different:

·          The idea of winning a war may still have romantic appeal, but it no longer has any place in reality.  In modern warfare, all are conquered and none are victorious.  Modern war victimizes all citizens within each country it is fought. 

·          New technology such as chemical weapons, mechanized warfare, and nuclear warfare make war not just a mere unfortunate quarrel between nations but race suicide and ecological carnage.

·          New methods of exercising pressure, such as embargo, have been employed to resolve conflict.  While brutal themselves, they must serve as a way to abolish the present method of conflict or we face self-destruction.

·          Those who seek to show the necessity for war from history fail to see the obvious fact that all analogies from the past inevitably break down.  We have never had the destructive power we do now, we have never been more of a world community, and we have never been more economically dependent on one another.[156]

 

Every new war risks too much—even with the Cold War behind us.  To survive, we must create new and more reasonable approaches to international conflict.  Today, there is no such thing as a just or holy war.  As Brunner states, “War has outlived itself.  It has become so colossal that it can no longer suit any sensible function.”[157] 

                Thousand of years have passed since the first society emerged, yet we still strive towards goals not yet reached: equity, justice, the common good, security, etc.  Augustine would encourage us to await the eschatological consummation of all things through the Second Coming; whereby, Christ will transform society.  Thomas would exhort us to have faith in the Church and the rational ability of man to make God’s Kingdom realized here on Earth.  Al-Fārābī would promote the promulgation of reason to transcend this world of limited possibility—finding liberation from the material restraints of the body; yet, even he believes that this can only be done in a society founded upon justice.  In hindsight, we have much to criticize in regards to the thought of these thinkers of antiquity; however, we have much to remember.  Things have been forgotten which ought not to have been.  Political dreams of the good society are universal to all humans.  History has its deep wells.  Within those well lies the living water of the Spirit of God, who is working in the history and societies of humankind—preparing us for a day of which we know nothing yet for which we cry out for in primal yearning. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY

 

Saint Aurelius Augustine

 

Primary Sources.

Augustine.  The City of God.  Translated by Marcus Dods.  New York, NY: Random House, 1981.

 

Secondary Sources

Langan, John.  “The Elements of Augustine’s Just War Theory.”  Journal of Religious Ethics 12 ( 1984):

19-38.

Rohr, John A.  “Religious Toleration in St. Augustine.”  Journal of the Church and State 9 (1967): 51-70.

Ruether, Rosemary Radford.  “Augustine and Christian Political Theology.”  Interpretation 29 (1975): 

252-265.

 

Abū Nasr al-Fārābī

 

Primary Sources

Al-Fārābī, Abū Nasr.  On the Perfect State (Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinate al fādilah).  Translation and Commentary by

Richard Walzer. Chicago, IL: Oxford University Press, 1998.

 

Secondary Sources

Bayrakli, Bayraktar.  “The Concept of Justice in the Philosophy of Al-Farabi.”  Hamdard Islamicus 15

(1992): 21-31.

Davidson, Herbert A.  Alfarabi, Avicenna, and Averroes, on Intellect:  There Cosmologies of the Active Intellect and Theories

of Human Intellect.  New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1992.

Fakhry, Majid.  A History of Islamic Philosophy.  New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 1970.

Lapidus, Ira M.  A History of Islamic Societies.  New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 1988.

Sankar, Farouk A.  “Plato and al-Fārābī: A Comparison of Some Aspects of Their Political Philosophies.”

Muslim World 60 (1970): 218-225.

 

Saint Thomas Aquinas

 

Primary Sources

Aquinas, Thomas.  De Regimine Principum.  In The Political Ideas of St. Thomas Aquinas.  Edited with introduction

by Dino Bigongiari.  New York, NY: Hafner Press, 181-182.

—.  Summa Contra Gentiles. Translated by the English Dominican Friars. Acquired from (April 10, 2000): 

http://www.nd.edu/Departments/Maritain/etext/gc.htm.

—. Summa Theologiæ.  Translated by the English Dominican Friars.  Acquire from (April 10, 2000):

http://www.new advent.org/summa/

 

Secondary Sources

Christensen, William N. and John King-Farlow.  “Aquinas and the Justification of War: Establishmentarian

Misconstructions.”  Thomist 35 (January 1971):  94-112.

Crofts, Richard A.  “The Common Good in the Political Theory of Thomas Aquinas.”  Thomist 37 (1973):

155-173.

Finnis, John.  Aquinas: Moral, Political, and Legal Theory.  New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Scully, Edgar.  “The Place of the State in Society according to Thomas Aquinas.”  Thomist 45 (1981):

407-429.

Zagar, Janko.  “Aquinas and the Social Teaching of the Church.”  Thomist 38 (1974):  826-855. 

 

Miscellaneous

 

Abdalati, Hammudah.  Islamic in Focus.  Plainfield, IN: American Trust Publications, 1996.

Al-‘Ashmawi, Muhammad Sa’id.  “Shari’a: The Codification of Islamic Law.”  In Liberal Islam: A Sourcebook,

edited by Charles Kurzman, 49-56.  New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Bakhtiar, Laleh.  Encyclopedia of Islamic Law: A Compendium of the Major Schools.  Chicago, IL: Kazi Publications,

1996

Brunner, Emil.  The Divine Imperative.  Translated by Olive Wyon.  Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press,

1947.

Daly, Herman E. and John B. Cobb, Jr.  For the Common Good: Redirecting the Economy toward Community, the

Environment, and a Sustainable Future.  Boston, MA: Beacon Books, 1989.

Gutiérrez, Gustavo.  A Theology of Liberation.  Translated by John Eagleson and Caridad Inda.  Maryknoll, NY:

Orbis Books, 1990.

Korten, David C.  The Post Corporate Word: Life after Capitalism.  San Francisco, CA: Berret-Koehler Publishers

and Hartford, CT: Kumarian Press, 1999.

Küng, Hans.  On Being a Christian.  Translated by Edward Quinn.  New York, NY: Doubleday Image Books,

1976.

Moltmann, Jürgen.  The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation.  Translated by Margaret Kohl.  Minneapolis, MN:

Fortress Press, 1994.

Newbigin, Leslie.  Foolishness to the Greeks: The Gospel and Western Culture.  Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans

Publishing Co., 1986.

Niebuhr, H. Richard.  Christ and Culture.  New York, NY: Harper & Row, 1951.

Niebuhr, Reinhold.  The Nature and Destiny of Man, Volumes 1 & 2.  Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox

Press, 1964.

Yoder, John Howard.  The Politics of Jesus: Vicit Agnus Noster.  Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing

Co., 1994.

 


[1] This analogy originally referred to a criticism of Liberal Protestant scholarship, especially the work of Adolf von Harnack, written upon the ‘historical’ Jesus in the 19th century and comes from George Tyrell, Christianity at the Cross-Roads (London: Longmans Green, 1909), 49.

[2] Augustine, De Civatate Dei (The City of God), trans. Marcus Dodds (New York, NY: Random House, 1993), Book II, ch. 21.

[3] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 21

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 24.

[7] Ibid., Book IV,  ch. 4.

[8] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 24.

[9] Ibid., Book IV, ch 4.

[10] Ibid., Book XIV, ch. 28.

[11] All quotes from the Bible are from the NRSV©1989 unless otherwise noted.

[12] Augustine, De Civitate Dei, Book XIV, ch. 28.

[13] Ibid., Book XI, ch. 1

[14] Ibid., Book XII, ch. 1-10.

[15] Ibid., Book XV, ch. 1.

[16] Rosemary Radford Ruether, “Augustine and Christian Political Theology,” Interpretation  29 (1975): 260.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Augustine, De Civitate Dei, Book XV, ch. 4.

[20] Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man, Volume 1: Human Destiniy (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1964), 273.

[21] Augustine, De Civitate Dei, Book XV, ch. 4.

[22] Ibid.

[23] Ibid.

[24] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 12.

[25] Ibid.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 13.

[28] John Langan, “The Elements of St. Augustine’s Just War Theory,” The Journal of Religious Ethics 12 (1984), 24

[29] Ibid., 32. He adds, somewhat sarcastically, that another reason may have been that God did not make provision for the protection of noncombatants in such verses as Deuteronomy 20.16 and Joshua 3.17.  Augustine used Moses and Joshua as archetypes of practitioners of just war because of their Biblical authority.

[30] Augustine, De Civitate Dei, Book XIX, ch. 7.

[31] Ibid., Book I, ch. 1.

[32] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 15.

[33] Ibid.

[34] Ibid., Book XIX, ch. 16.

[35] Ibid., Book XIX ch. 21.

[36] Ibid., Book XII, ch. 23

[37] Ibid., Book XIII, ch. 14.

[38] Ibid., Book XIII, ch. 13

[39] Ibid., Book XVIII, ch. 51.

[40] John A Rohr, “Religious Toleration in St. Augustine,” Journal of the Church and State 9 (1967): 58.

[41] Augustine, city by Rohr, 63.

[42] Rohr, 64.

[43] Ibid., 68.

[44] Ira M. Lapidus,  A History of Islamic Societies (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 98.

[45] Majid Fakhry, A History of Islamic Philosophy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), 136.

[46] Richard Walzer, “Introduction” in On the Perfect State (Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah), translated with commentary by Richard Walzer  (Chicago, IL: Oxford University Press, 1998), 12.

[47] Abū Nasr al-Fārābī, On the Perfect State (Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah), translated with introduction and commentary by Richard Walzer  (Chicago, IL: Oxford University Press, 1998), 229.

[48] Ibid., 206-207

[49] R. Walzer, “Commentary” on Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 429.

[50] Al-Fārābī, Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 230-231.

[51] Ibid., 231.

[52] Ibid., 261-263.  Al-Fārābī likens this unto the act of writing in which, “by steadily applying himself to performtion the actions of writing well make a man acquire proficiency in art of writing, and the more steadily he applies himself to these actions, the stronger and better becomes the art through which these actions are produced and its strength and excellence increases through constant repetition of these actions.  The enjoyment which results from that disposition of the soul grown in strength and the delight which he feels in himself at having it increases and his love for it expands.  The same is true of the actions by which felicity is attained…”

[53] Recipients of zakat vary, but its purpose is foundationally religious in purpose.  There are essentially eight valid recipients of zakat.  One, there is al-faqir, the needy—defined as those who are in need.  The various schools define this differently.  Hanafis believe a needy person to be one who does not posses the minimum for survival—even if fit and earning wage; however, the Shafiis and Hanbalis consider one who even possesses half of what is need for living to be ineligible.  The Malikis define al-faqir most broadly as those not possessing enough to sustain themselves for a year.  Two, there is al-maskin, or the destitute person.  Though there are disagreements between the schools concerning who is worse off, all schools concur that both a faqir and miskin are the recipients of urgent need fulfillments in crucial areas such as housing, food, healthcare, etc.  The third valid recipients are the collectors of zakat, and the fourth are those new Muslim converts with unique needs that arise upon conversion to Islam.  Though outdated in modern times, zakat was also required to be used for freeing slaves through purchase.  The final three recipients are those Muslims in debt, warriors or soldiers, and also refugees or wayfarers.  See Laleh Bakhtar, Encylopedia of Islamic Law: A Compendium of the Major Schools (Chicago, IL: ABC International Group, Inc. and Kazi Publications, 1996), 237-241.

[54] Hammudah Abdalati, Islam in Focus (Plainfield, Indiana: American Trust Publications, 1996), 97.

[55] Al-Fārābī, Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 233.

[56] Ibid., 235

[57] Ibid.

[58] Ibid., 238-39.

[59] Ibid., 239

[60] Ibid.

[61] Ibid., 239-247.Al-Fārābī speaks of the Active Intellect and the Passive Intellect.  In a person who has achieved intellectual knowledge, the Passive Intellect, which receives knowledge, comprehends the Active Intellect, the emanation of an object of knowledge which makes it possible to know a thing, so fully that the Passive Intellect actually transforms into the Active Intellect.  Al-Fārābī names this the Acquired Intellect.  Herbert A. Davidson in his Alfarabi, Avicenna, and Averroes, on Intellect:  Their Cosmologies of the Active Intellect and Theories of Human Intellect (New York, NY: Oxford, 1992), 92-93, gives a cohesive summary of how this applies to al-Fārābī’s amalgamation of the Caliph/Imam and the philosopher-king of Plato, “the emanation from the active intellect can travel beyond the human intellect, affect the human imaginative faculty…  If a man at the stage of acquired intellect has a receptive imaginative faculty, the emanation form the active intellect flows again through his intellect, which is now a perfected intellect, to his imaginative faculty, and … produces knowledge of particular future events.  When a philosopher-prophet possesses certain gifts of leadership, he becomes a philosopher king as well.”

[62] Farouk A. Sankar, “Plato and al-Fārābī: A Comparison of Some Aspects of Their Political Philosophies,” Muslim World 60 (1970): 224.  Describing the concept of the ideal Islamic ruler would be too vast an enterprise to undertake within this paper.  In short, al-Fārābī has in mind the Caliphate (also called the Imamate but not with the overtones given to it by the Shi’a sects) located in Baghdad who exists as the last bastion and bulwark for a centralized ummah (i.e., Muslim community).  The Caliph held the office, authority, and status of Muhammad’s successor and was the leader of the ummah; thus, the office was, like Muhammad’s role in Medinah, both of religious and political authority.  Sectarian beliefs of the emerging Shi’a factions threatened both realms of the Muslim world during and beyond al-Fārābī’s lifetime.

[63] Al-Fārābī, Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 247.

[64] Ibid., 247-249.

[65] Ibid., 249.

[66] Ibid., 250.

[67] Ibid., 251-253.

[68] Though al l-Fārābī believes that humans need societies to achieve perfection/felicity, he does not believe that living under a city that is not virtuous or conducive to virtue predetermines one’s ability to ever attain felicity.  See Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 277.

[69]Ibid., 255-257.

[70] Ibid., 273.

[71] Ibid.,257- 259.

[72] Ibid., 273-274.  They suffer this fate in the after-life but do not experience it fully in this life because of the distractions of work and duty.  He gives the analogy, “as long as a man afflicted with sorrow is preoccupied by the things conveyed to him by the senses, he neither feels distress about the object of his sorrow nor does he become aware of it; but eventually, the feeling of distress comes back to him when he is separated from his sense perception.”  Thus, when separated from the material realm, the full onslaught overwhelms the damned fool.

[73] Ibid., 275

[74] Ibid., 257.

[75] Ibid., 275-277.

[76] Ibid., 299.

[77] Ibid., 301.

[78] Ibid., 303.

[79] Ibid.

[80] Bayraktar Bayrakli, “The Concept of Justice in the Philsophy of Al-Fārābī” Hamdard Islamicus 15/3 (1992), 21.

[81] Ibid., 22.

[82] Ibid., 23.  This relates largely to al-Fārābī’s qualifications of the ideal ruler as examined above.  He assumes from the rulers love for justice and hate for in justice that his virtues will be infused into the society via his leadership and guidance; cf., Al-Fārābī, Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 249.

[83] Bayrakli, 30.

[84] R. Walzer, “Commentary” in Mabādi’ ārā’ ahl al-madinat al fādilah, 451.

[85] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, trans. by the English Dominican Friars, III, 117.  All quotes taken from http://www.nd.edu/Departments/Maritain/etext/gc.htm.

[86] Edgar Scully, “The State in Society According to Aquinas,” The Thomist 45 (1981): 417.

[87] Summa Contra Gentiles, III,  85.

[88] John Finnis, Aquinas: Moral, Political and Legal Theory (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1998), 246.

[89] When Aquinas speaks of the ‘state’, this terminology must be defined carefully.  Finnis explains well, “Civitas and synonymously communities plitica or communitas civlis, in Aquinas, can usually be translated by ‘a state’, ‘states’, or ‘ the state’, but never mean ‘the State’ as government, organs of government, or subject of public law.  Though aware of the distinctions, Aquinas is not generally concerned to differentiate between nation and state or political community, or between state’s structure of governing offices and the particular ruler or office holders.  And civitas and its synonyms are used consistently by Aquinas to signify the whole large society which is organized politically by the sorts of institutions, arrangements, and practices commonly and reasonably called ‘government’ and ‘law’” (219-220).

[90] Richard A. Crofts, “The Common Good in the Political Theory of Thomas Aquinas,” The Thomist 37 (1973): 158.

[91] Finnis, 246.

[92] Crofts, 157.

[93] Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theolgiæ, trans. by the English Dominican Friars, I, q. 96, a. 4.  All quotes taken from http://www.newadvent.org/summa/.

[94] Crofts, “The Common God in the Political Theory of Thomas Aquinas,” 164.

[95] Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, III, 17.

[96] Ibid., III, 18.

[97] Janko Zagar, “Aquinas and the Social Teaching of the Church,” The Thomist 38 (1974):  842.

[98] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-II, q. 10, a. 10.

[99] Zagar, 842.

[100] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-II, q. 10, a. 10.

[101] Summa Theologiæ, II-I, q. 90, a. 1.  As Thomas himself dictates, “, It belongs to the law to command and to forbid. But it belongs to reason to command ... Therefore law is something pertaining to reason.”

[102] Ibid., II-I, q. 91, a. 1.

[103] Ibid., II-I, q. 91, a. 2.

[104] Ibid., II-I, q. 91, a. 3.

[105] Ibid., II-I, q. 91, a. 4.

[106] Ibid., II-I, q. 105, a. 1.

[107] Ibid.

[108] Thomas Aquinas, De Regime Principum, in The Political Ideas of St. Thomas Aquinas, edited with introduction by Dino Bigongiari (New York: Hafner Press, 1953), 181-182.

[109] Ibid., 178.

[110] Ibid., 181.

[111] Ibid., 182.

[112] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-I, q. 96, a. 5.

[113] Ibid.

[114] Ibid., II-II, q. 42, a. 2.  For Thomas really only excess tyranny merits insurrection, “Indeed, if there be not an excess of tyranny it is more expedient to tolerate the milder tyranny for a while than, by acting against the tyrant to become involved in many perils more grievous than the tyranny itself.  For it may happen that those who act against the tyrant are unable to prevail and the tyrant then will rage the more.  But should one be able to prevail against the tyrant, from this fact itself very grave dissensions among the people frequently ensue” (De Regimine Principum, 189).

[115] Finnis, 290.

[116] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-II, q. 42, a. 2. 

[117] Aquinas, De Regimine Principum, 190.

[118] Finnis, 136.

[119] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-II, q. 104, a. 5.

[120] Cf. Summa Contra Gentiles, IV, 11 and 45.

[121] Finnis, 171-172.

[122] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, I-I, q. 93, a. 4.  Unfortunately, he softens the strength of this assertion immediately following the sentence cited, “But in a secondary sense the image of God is found in man, and not in woman: for man is the beginning and end of woman; as God is the beginning and end of every creature.”  He construes this pernicious duality in order to explain the discrepancy between Genesis 1.27, “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them,” and 1 Corinthians 11.7-9, “For a man … is the image and reflection of God; but woman is the reflection of man.  Indeed, man was not made from woman, but woman from man.  Neither was man created for the sake of woman, but woman for the sake of man.”

[123] Ibid., II-II, q. 57, a. 1.

[124] Finnis, 171.

[125] Ibid., II-II, q. 32, a. 1.

[126] Ibid., II-II, q. 32, a. 2.

[127] Finnis, 191.  Absolute necessity is further defined as those things needed for life, and relative necessity is further defined as those things needed merely for the fulfillment of one’s social and familial responsibilities.

[128] Ibid..

[129] Ibid., 193

[130]Ibid..

[131] Ibid.,. 195

[132] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-II, q. 77, a. 4.

[133] Ibid., II-II, q. 78, a. 1.

[134] Finnis, 210.

[135] Finnis, 285

[136] Aquinas, Summa Theologiæ, II-II, q. 40, a. 1.

[137] William N. Christensen and John King-Farlow, “Aquinas and the Justification of War: Establishmentarian Misconstructions,” The Thomist  35 (1971): 104-105.

[138] H. Richard Niebuhr, Christ and Culture (New York, NY: Harper & Row, 1951), 208.

[139] Ibid., 130.

[140] Leslie Newbigin, Foolishness to the Greeks: The Gospel and Western Culture (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1986), 96.

[141] Ibid.

[142] See John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus: Vicit Agnus Noster (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1994), 4-5, n. 7.  This phrase comes from Charles Sheldon’s classic novel In His Steps.  Yoder notes that for Sheldon, “Do what Jesus would do,” really means “for Sheldon simply, ‘do the right at all costs’; but what is the right thing to do is knowable for Sheldon apart from Jesus.”  In other words, the simple, quaint phrase is misleading.  In reality, it merely encourages daring practice of what is already culturally determined to be moral.  Though the simplicity of the ethic is admirable, this is something we want to avoid.

[143] Ibid., 5-8.

[144] Hans Küng, On Being a Christian, trans. Edward Quinn (New York: Doubleday Image Books, 1968), 177-213. 

[145] Gustavo Gutiérez, A Theology of Liberation, trans. by John Eagleson and Caridad Inda (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1990), 134.

[146] Jürgen Moltman, The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation, trans. Margaret Kohl (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1994), 129.

[147] Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man, Volume 1: Human Nature (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1964), 213.

[148] Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man, Vol. 2, 286.

[149] Herman E. Daly and John B. Cobb, Jr., For the Common Good: Redirecting the Economy toward Community, the Environment, and a Sustainable Future (Boston, MA: Beacon Books, 1989), 5.

[150] Newbigin, 118.

[151] David C. Korten, The Post Corporate World: Life after Capitalism (San Francisco, CA: Berret-Koehler Publishers and West Hartford, CT: Kumarian Press, 1999), 120.

[152] Daly and Cobb, 174.

[153] Newbigin, 114.

[154] Korten, 15.

[155] Muhammad Sa’id al-‘Ashmawi, “Shari’a: The Codification of Islamic Law,” in Liberal Islam: A Sourcebook, ed. Charles Kurzman (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1998), 52.  See also M. S. al-Ashmawi, Al-Riba wa’l-fa’ida fi’l-Islam (Usury and Interest in Islam) (Cairo: Dar Sina, 1988).

[156] Adapted from Emil Brunner, The Divine Imperative, trans. Olive Wyon (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1947), 469-474,

[157] Brunner, 471.