The So-Called “New Natural Law Theory”


A Spanish version of this paper appears in: Miguel Ayuso Torres (ed.), ¿El derecho natural contra el derecho natural? Historia y balance de un problema (Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2024).

A pdf of this essay can be found here.


Introduction

The so-called “New Natural Law Theory” is a name applied to a certain attempt at recovering natural law theory in a form that would make it impervious to objections taken from Hume’s “is-ought problem.” The attempt was begun by Germain Grisez in 1965, and carried on by Grisez himself, John Finnis, Joseph Boyle, Robert P. George, and others.1 The theory began as a new interpretation of St Thomas Aquinas’s teaching on natural law, but it quickly diverged from St Thomas’s teaching on many particular conclusions. The name “New Natural Law Theory” seems to have been used first by critics of the theory.2 The theory has been influential in jurisprudence, political philosophy, moral theology, and the interpretation of Catholic Social Teaching. While it has had some influence among non-Catholics,3 its primary influence has been among Catholics.

The New Natural Law Theory has been found useful as a way of defending what I will call “neo-conservative” Catholicism. By the term “neo-conservative” I mean to signify writers who, in the decades following Vatican II, were concerned, on the one hand, with defending the objectivity of moral norms and the truth of the Church’s moral teachings on matters such as abortion, euthanasia, and contraception; but who, on the other hand, interpreted Vatican II as allowing for a rapprochement between the Church and classical liberalism on such matters as usury, free market economics, social contract democracy, the primacy of individual rights, the separation of Church and state, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and (in short) most of the ideas that had been condemned by the 19th-century Popes as “liberal errors.”4 Thus, a theory whose theoretical concern was in part reinterpreting the natural law in response to the moral epistemology of the Enlightenment ended in endorsing many of the particular political and juridical conclusions that originally stemmed from Enlightenment thought.

In this paper I offer a critique of the New Natural Law Theory from the perspective of the traditional Thomist understanding of natural law, and more fundamentally of the good to which natural law is directed. I will argue that New Natural Law Theory exaggerates the distinction between theoretical and practical reason. This exaggeration leads its proponents to a fundamental misunderstanding of the good. Counter-intuitively, their exaggeration of the distinction between speculative and practical truth leads them to have an overly abstract understanding of the good; they neglect the implications of Aristotle’s insight that while the truth is found primarily in the mind, the good is found primarily in things.5 They consider the good according to the mode of existence that it has in the mind. As a consequence of this, the proponents of the New Natural Law Theory misunderstand the way in which the good is most properly said to be universal or common. They tend to understand the universality of the good as a universality in predication (one name said of many things), rather than a universality of causation (one elevated cause of many effects below it).6 They thereby misunderstand the way in which natural law is related to the good. They understand the first precept of the law, on which all the precepts of natural law are founded—“good is to be done and pursued, and evil is to be avoided”7—to refer to the universal predicate “good,” a name abstracted from particular goods and said of particular goods, rather than as referring the actual common good of all things, in which all other goods participate, and to which all goods are directed. The proponents of the New Natural Law Theory therefore deny that there is a hierarchy among the goods to which we are inclined by nature. This leads them to the astonishing opinion that God is not the complete end of human life. The denial of the hierarchy of goods also leads them to deny the primacy of the common good of a complete society (societas perfecta) over the private goods of individuals. They therefore also misunderstand the relation of the common good to individual rights. Instead of rights flowing from the common good by means of law (which is always directed to the common good), the proponents of the theory see rights as the foundation of law, and the common good as an instrumental good that secures rights to individuals. The proponents of the New Natural Law Theory therefore accept modern liberal errors on such rights as freedom of speech, freedom of religion, etc.

In Part I of this paper, I will give an outline of the New Natural Law Theory and show how the conclusions just mentioned follow from its principles. In Part II, I will explain the traditional Thomistic understanding of the good and the natural law and show how it grounds the rejection of liberal errors by the 19th-century popes.

Part I: Goodness, Law, and Right in the New Natural Law Theory

In 1965 Germain Grisez published an article that came to be seen as the beginning of the New Natural Law Theory. The article offered a new interpretation of Summa theologiæ Ia-IIae, q.94, a.2, in which St Thomas treats the question of whether the natural law contains only one precept or many. It will be useful to summarize St Thomas’s text before turning to Grisez’s interpretation.

St Thomas points to an analogy between speculative and practical reason. Just as speculative reason moves from self-evident, naturally known principles to conclusions, so practical reason moves from self-evident, naturally known principles to its conclusions. Reason first apprehends being, and from this first apprehension, the first principle of speculative reason is derived: the principle of contradiction. This principle is based on the understanding of the opposition of being and non-being. What is is and cannot not be. Or, in other words, the same cannot be affirmed and denied of the same thing at the same time. All other self-evident principles of speculative reasoning are based on this first principle and would be meaningless without it. For example, it is self-evident that a whole is greater than any one of its parts. But this proposition would be meaningless if the same could be affirmed and denied of the same, for then the whole could be both greater and not greater than one of its parts.

In practical reasoning, i.e. reasoning directed to action, St Thomas argues the first thing apprehended is the good, that which all seek after, because “every agent acts for an end under the aspect of good.” From this the first principle of practical reasoning follows: “good is to be done and pursued, and evil is to be avoided.” All other self-evident principles of practical reason, St Thomas argues, are based on this first principle and would be meaningless without it.

Nevertheless, St Thomas goes on to argue there are many precepts of the natural law, because man is inclined (slanted) by nature to many different kinds of goods that perfect or complete him. Human reason apprehends such goods as ends on account of the first principle that the good is to be done and pursued. Nevertheless, the goodness of those ends is self-evident and naturally known through the natural inclinations in man. Thomas shows how various levels of nature in man result in various kinds of inclinations. The first level is what man has in common with all beings. As a being, a substance, man is inclined like all substances to conserve his being, to keep on existing. And because the being of living things is life, natural law commands man to preserve his life. The second level has more particularly to do with man’s being as an animal, a sensitive being. In accordance with this level man is inclined to sexual intercourse and the rearing of young, and such things. The third level has to do with man’s specific nature as a rational being. According to this third level, man is inclined to specifically rational goods, and thus he is bound by natural law to shun ignorance and falsehood and, moreover, to avoid offenses contrary to rational sociability.

In his interpretation, Germain Grisez reads St Thomas as making a rigid distinction between speculative and practical reason. He takes Thomas here as having anticipated the famous “is-ought” problem raised by Hume:

The theory of law is permanently in danger of falling into the illusion that practical knowledge is merely theoretical knowledge plus force of will. […] [P]ractical reason really does not know in the same way that theoretical reason knows. For practical reason, to know is to prescribe. This is why I insisted so strongly that the first practical principle is not a theoretical truth. Once its real character as a precept is seen, there is less temptation to bolster the practical principle with will, and so to transform it into an imperative, in order to make it relevant to practice. Indeed, the addition of will to theoretical knowledge cannot make it practical. This point is precisely what Hume saw when he denied the possibility of deriving ought from is.8

Although practical reason does not know in the same way as speculative reason, nevertheless it still does know abstractly. This is seen in how Grisez understands the notion of “good” in the first precept of the law. At first, Grisez seems to indicate that “good” refers to the last end, the ultimate final cause: “The good of which practical reason prescribes the pursuit and performance…is the last end, for practical reason cannot direct the possible actions which are its objects without directing them to an end.”9 But it soon becomes clear that Grisez does not think the first precept orders reason to any actual good in things, rather “good” in the precept is merely a universal predicate, one name said of many particular goods. The good of the first precept is indeterminate. For Grisez the first precept does not actually prescribe any actions, but rather makes human actions possible by “determining that action will be for an end.”10 “Good” in the first principle does mean the actual final cause of human action, but rather signifies abstractly anything that man might choose as his final cause:

The will necessarily tends to a single ultimate end, but it does not necessarily tend to any definite good as an ultimate end. We may say that the will naturally desires happiness, but this is simply to say that man cannot but desire the attainment of that good, whatever it may be, for which he is acting as an ultimate end. The desire for happiness is simply the first principle of practical reason directing human action from within the will informed by reason. Because the specific last end is not determined for him by nature, man is able to make the basic commitment which orients his entire life.11

For Grisez there is therefore a “gap” between the first precept of law and the subsequent precepts of the natural law. Each of the subsequent precepts is in a sense a “first” precept; each of them is a self-evident ordering to some kind of good to which man is inclined. There is therefore no order between the other self-evident precepts of the natural law. They cannot be ordered by their proximity or distance from the true final end, because the first precept, at work in them, is not about the true final end. Rather, any of the goods of the other precepts, or any synthesis of them, can be taken by man as his final end. This is why proponents of the New Natural Law came to call such goods “basic goods.”12

One of the most startling consequences of the New Natural Law Theory’s denial of a hierarchy of ends is Germain Grisez’s thesis that God is not enough to satisfy the human heart. In a 2005 lecture entitled “The Restless Heart Blunder,” Grisez argued that St Augustine’s famous dictum that our hearts are restless until they rest in God was a blunder, because friendship with God is only one good among others. Therefore, he argues, the true end of human life is not God, but the Kingdom of God, which includes all human goods: “Strictly speaking, God is not the ultimate end toward which we should direct our lives. That end is God’s kingdom, which will be a wonderful communion of divine persons, human persons, and other created persons. Every member of the kingdom will be richly fulfilled in respect to all human goods, including friendship with God.”13 This opinion is so offensive to pious ears that it scarcely needs refutation. I will, however, show why it is wrong in Part II. I believe this to be the most pernicious error of the New Natural Law Theory.

The denial of the hierarchy of goods leads proponents of the New Natural Law Theory to deny the primacy of the political common good, the common good of the complete human community, over the goods of parts of the community as parts. Although their position is qualified in various ways, proponents of the New Natural Law Theory tend to see the “specifically political common good” as being “limited and in a sense instrumental.”14 The role of the state is to provide the necessary conditions for persons and smaller communities to seek their basic goods. The state, according to them, is therefore not ordered to the fullness of human virtue, but only towards such social virtues as are necessary for maintaining public order: “As the public good, the elements of the specifically political common good are not all-round virtue but goods (and virtues) which are intrinsically inter­personal, other-directed…, person to person…: justice and peace.”15

In this instrumental understanding of the political common good, proponents of the New Natural Law are closer to the political philosophers of the Enlightenment and their 19th-century liberal heirs, than they are to the Socratic tradition of political philosophy as it was developed by Plato, Aristotle, and the great thinkers of the Middle Ages. It is thus not surprising that proponents of the New Natural Law Theory tend to agree with the Enlightenment philosophers and the 19th-century liberals on the vital importance of rights such as freedom of religion, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, etc. 

To his credit, John Finnis points out that there was a “watershed” in the understanding of the concept of right or jus between the time of St Thomas Aquinas and that of Francisco Suárez. St Thomas had seen the primary meaning of right as being “the just thing itself,” meaning “acts, objects, and states of affairs, considered as subject-matters of relationships of justice.”16 Finnis implies that the distribution of such rights is related to the common good. To make his point more explicit: the duty that someone else has to render to you, what is your due by justice, is measured by law, which is an ordinance for the common good. Three centuries later, Finnis notes, in the work of Suárez, the primary meaning of jus comes to be a moral power that a person has over what belongs to him or is due to him.17 Finnis, however, disagrees with theorists such as Michel Villey that this watershed represents a bad development that needs to be corrected. According to Finnis, “there is no cause to take sides as between the older and the newer usages.”18 In a postscript to the second edition of Natural Law and Natural Rights, Finnis goes even further, arguing that the “watershed” between Thomas and Suárez, “must be regarded as much more a matter of appearance and idiom than of conceptual, let alone political or philosophical, substance.”19 The main reason for this is Finnis’s instrumental understanding of the common good. Since the common good is ultimately for the sake of the enabling the enjoyment of basic goods, “right” in St Thomas’s sense is ultimately for “right” in Suárez’s sense:

[W]hen we come to explain the requirements of justice, which we do by referring to the needs of the common good at its various levels, then we find that there is reason for treating the concept of duty, obligation, or requirement as having a more strategic explanatory role than the concept of rights. The concept of rights is not on that account of less importance or dignity: for the common good is precisely the good of the individuals whose benefit, from fulfilment of duty by others, is their right because required in justice of those others.20

Ultimately, therefore, Finnis can affirm the modern use of rights language as “a supple and potentially precise instrument for sorting out and expressing the demands of justice.”21 Finnis certainly disagrees with some contemporary claims about rights, such as the claim of a right to abortion or homosexual marriage,22 but he agrees with others. Particularly, he defends the right to free practice of religion. He reads Vatican II’s Declaration Dignitatis humanæ as having defended that right on the basis of an instrumental understanding of the common good.23 I would argue that his reading of Dignitatis humanæ is, in fact, incorrect, and that his error of interpretation flows from the error in his principles.24

In Making Men Moral, Robert P. George disagrees with the radical liberal claim that politics should not be concerned with morality, yet he uses the New Natural Law theory to defend the rights that had been defended by classical liberals: freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to privacy, freedom of assembly, and freedom of religion.25 The list reads almost like a list of liberties condemned by the 19th-century popes.

Part II: Contrasting the New Natural Law Theory with the Old

Contrary to Grisez’s claims, St Thomas did not hold the main theses of the New Natural Law Theory. An understanding of his “old” natural law theory will, therefore, show the conclusions of the new to be erroneous.

For St Thomas the distinction between speculative and practical reason is not as rigid as for Grisez. Practical reason is distinguished from speculative reason from something that is accidental to reason as power—namely that practical reason orders what is known to action, whereas speculative reason orders it to contemplation. But, St Thomas argues, “to a thing apprehended by the intellect, it is accidental whether it be directed to operation or not.”26 In other words, to know for the practical intellect is not radically different than for the speculative intellect. 

Nevertheless, since the good is in things, the practical intellect ought to consider goods according to the existence they have in reality, rather than merely according to their abstract existence in the mind. Hence the first precept of the law, “good is to be done and pursued, and evil is to be avoided” refers not to a universal name, said of many goods, but existing only abstractly in the mind; rather it refers to a good common in its causality—the final end attracting all things by its actual goodness. 

Hence, in discussing the essence of law in general St Thomas argues that law is always ordered to a good which is universal in causality. Thomas argues that law is always ordered to “the common good.” He raises an objection: “Law directs man in his actions. But human actions are concerned with particular matters. Therefore the law is directed to some particular good.”27 In response, Thomas writes: “Actions are indeed concerned with particular matters: but those particular matters are referable to the common good, not as to a common genus or species, but as to a common final cause, according as the common good is said to be the common end.”28 In other words, in any kind of law, particular actions are commanded because they are directed toward that common good which is their final cause. Therefore, in the first precept of law, “the good” refers to the most common good to which all other goods, and all actions, are directed. Insofar as it refers to other goods to be done, it is referring to those other goods as actually ordered to the highest good and last end.

But what is the last end and highest good?29 It is God Himself, the unbounded ocean of actuality, perfection, and goodness. The good is what all things desire insofar as they desire their perfection. But since every created perfection is from God as its agent, exemplar, and final cause, it is a participation in God’s perfection. To participate is to take part in something without removing a part from it. My reflection in a mirror partakes of my form, without depriving me of any part of my form. God does not have parts, but creatures share in Him in an incomplete, that is, a partial way. Therefore, creatures are ordered to their Creator the way parts are ordered to a whole. The perfection that each creature desires consists in an ever-greater likeness to the Creator. But that means that the perfection that they desire only ever exists in a secondary way in themselves. It exists fully only in God. Therefore, St Thomas teaches, creatures naturally love God more than themselves:

In natural things, everything which, as such, naturally belongs to another, is principally, and more strongly inclined to that other to which it belongs, than towards itself…. For we observe that the part naturally exposes itself in order to safeguard the whole; as, for instance, the hand is without deliberation exposed to the blow for the whole body’s safety. And since reason copies nature, we find the same inclination among the social virtues; for it behooves the virtuous citizen to expose himself to the danger of death for the public weal of the state…. Consequently, since God is the universal good, and under this good both man and angel and all creatures are comprised, because every creature in regard to its entire being naturally belongs to God, it follows that from natural love angel and man alike love God before themselves and with a greater love. Otherwise, if either of them loved self more than God, it would follow that natural love would be perverse, and that it would not be perfected but destroyed by charity.30

As all the great mystics of the Catholic tradition have known, therefore, God and God alone fully satisfies the desires of the human heart. Contrary to Grisez’s impious thesis, the one who has God and all created goods does not have more than the one who has God alone.

As James Berquist has shown, however, it does not follow that one could simply restate the first precept of the law as “God is to be pursued and what leads to Him is to be done.”31 This is because what is first naturally known to us is rather indistinct and confused. We know there is some final end of desire, but we do not yet know explicitly that it is God. Hence St Thomas writes:

To know that God exists in a general and confused way is implanted in us by nature, inasmuch as God is man’s beatitude. For man naturally desires happiness, and what is naturally desired by man must be naturally known to him. This, however, is not to know absolutely [simpliciter] that God exists; just as to know that someone is approaching is not the same as to know that Peter is approaching, even though it is Peter who is approaching; for many there are who imagine that man’s perfect good which is happiness, consists in riches, and others in pleasures, and others in something else.32

A human being first apprehends the natural law when he attains the age of reason. St Thomas describes the first deliberation that takes place at the age of reason as the discernment of the true end to which man must order himself. If he fails to order himself to his end, he commits a mortal sin.33 As James Berquist has shown, the one who fails to order himself to his end does not see the good as a common good, to which he must order himself, but rather as a private good which he wishes to order to himself.34

From this primacy of God as the universal common good follows a hierarchy of all other goods, which are good because they are like God and because they in some way (either indirectly or directly) help us to approach God. The highest good of the human moral life is the common good of the complete human society, the political community. The intrinsic common good of the polity is peace, the tranquility of order that results from justice and prudent governance. This peace is a thing of beauty, in which the splendid virtues of citizens are brought into a harmonious unity, like a symphony of human life which imitates the beauty of Heaven. As Socrates puts it, “no city can be happy which is not designed by artists who imitate the heavenly pattern.”35 The extrinsic common good of the city is happiness. As Aristotle teaches, a city is founded for living well, that is acting according to moral virtue.36 Human happiness is found in doing the human activity (ergon) virtuously. And this is ordered to God both by making human beings more like God, and by preparing them for the contemplation of God. This virtuous activity is a truly common good when it is shared in political friendship.37 All other human goods are directed to this common good. This does not mean that the political community can simply destroy lesser human goods; on the contrary, the lesser goods are necessary for the primary good, which depends upon them.38

Given the primacy of the common good, Finnis is wrong to see the watershed between the older understanding of “right” as found in St Thomas and the modern theory of “rights” as a matter of appearance rather than substance.39 On the contrary, on the older understanding, since the common good is understood as true human happiness, rights are distributed with a view to that true happiness, to the fostering of the virtuous activity in which it consists. But on the newer understanding, the common good is degraded to an instrument for serving rights understood as something merely personal. As the Laval School Thomist Henri Grenier put it:

If objective right is understood as right in the strict sense, it follows that subjective right, i.e., right as a power, is measured by the just thing, according to conformity to law. Moreover, since law is an ordinance for the common good, it follows that the whole juridical order is directed to the common good. But, if subjective right is understood as right in the primary, strict, and formal meaning of the term, it follows that the juridical order consists in a certain autonomy, independence, and liberty. For subjective right is not measured by the just thing, but the just thing is measured by the inviolable faculty, which is a certain liberty. Therefore, according to moderns, the juridical order is directed to liberty rather than to the common good. This gives rise to errors among moderns, who speak of liberty of speech, liberty of worship, economic liberty,— economic liberalism,— without any consideration of their relation to the common good.40

As Charles De Koninck argues, this reversal has “execrable practical consequences.”41 For, when each orders the common good to his own private good, every member of society is a little tyrant.42

The papal condemnations of the demands of 19th-century liberals for freedom of speech, worship, etc. can be understood in this light. The popes recognized that the freedom being demanded was a tyrannical freedom, contrary to the fostering of true virtue and the common good. Thus, Pope Leo XIII in examining liberal demands for religious liberty teaches that such a liberty, understood as “the principle that every man is free to profess as he may choose any religion or none” is contrary to the virtue of religion, whereby we render to God what is His due. He then goes on to discuss the relation of this supposed right to the common good of the state. It is worth quoting him at length:

This kind of liberty, if considered in relation to the State, clearly implies that there is no reason why the State should offer any homage to God, or should desire any public recognition of Him; that no one form of worship is to be preferred to another, but that all stand on an equal footing, no account being taken of the religion of the people, even if they profess the Catholic faith. But, to justify this, it must needs be taken as true that the State has no duties toward God, or that such duties, if they exist, can be abandoned with impunity, both of which assertions are manifestly false. For it cannot be doubted but that, by the will of God, men are united in civil society; whether its component parts be considered; or its form, which implies authority; or the object of its existence; or the abundance of the vast services which it renders to man. God it is who has made man for society, and has placed him in the company of others like himself, so that what was wanting to his nature, and beyond his attainment if left to his own resources, he might obtain by association with others. Wherefore, civil society must acknowledge God as its Founder and Parent, and must obey and reverence His power and authority. Justice therefore forbids, and reason itself forbids, the State to be godless; or to adopt a line of action which would end in godlessness—namely, to treat the various religions (as they call them) alike, and to bestow upon them promiscuously equal rights and privileges. Since, then, the profession of one religion is necessary in the State, that religion must be professed which alone is true, and which can be recognized without difficulty, especially in Catholic States, because the marks of truth are, as it were, engravers upon it. This religion, therefore, the rulers of the State must preserve and protect, if they would provide— as they should do— with prudence and usefulness for the good of the community. For public authority exists for the welfare of those whom it governs; and, although its proximate end is to lead men to the prosperity found in this life, yet, in so doing, it ought not to diminish, but rather to increase, man’s capability of attaining to the supreme good in which his everlasting happiness consists: which never can be attained if religion be disregarded.43

This argument is based on the contrast that Pope Leo XIII sets up between true liberty, ordered to the true good, and false (liberal) liberty, which is ordered indifferently to whatever human beings take to be their end. Thus, liberty of speech, of publishing, etc. are condemned in similar terms. True liberty is essentially ordered to God, who is the last end and first principle of all human moral acts. As Leo XIII teaches in the encyclical Au milieu des sollicitudes, the true understanding of human morality is thoroughly theocentric:

The idea of morality signifies, above all, an order of dependence in regard to truth which is the light of the mind; in regard to good which is the object of the will; and without truth and good there is no morality worthy of the name. And what is the principal and essential truth, that from which all truth is derived? It is God. What, therefore, is the supreme good from which all other good proceeds? God. Finally, who is the creator and guardian of our reason, our will, our whole being, as well as the end of our life? God; always God.44

The errors of the New Natural Law Theory remove God from the center of human moral, juridical, and political life. The acceptance of those errors therefore leads to a hollowing out of morality, and a secularization of jurisprudence and politics. Ultimately, it represents a capitulation to the modern enemies of the Church, who have set up a secular anti-culture in the place of the noble customs of Christendom. It is therefore imperative that those errors be resisted.


  1. For an overview see: Patrick Lee, “The New Natural Law Theory,” in Tom Angier (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Natural Law Ethics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), 73-91. ↩︎
  2. See: Russell Hittinger, A Critique of the New Natural Law Theory (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1987), 5. ↩︎
  3. See, for example: Anver M. Emon, Matthew Levering, and David Novak, Natural Law: A Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Trialogue (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), which shows how the movement has been influential on certain Jewish and Muslim thinkers. ↩︎
  4. See, for example: Gregory XVI, Mirari vos (1832); Pius IX, Quanta cura (1864); Leo XIII, Libertas praestantissimum (1888). My own view is that the teaching of Vatican II is in continuity with that of the popes of the “Pian” age. See: Edmund Waldstein, O.Cist., “Religious Liberty in the Light of Tradition,” in: idem (ed.), Integralism and the Common Good: Collected Essays from The Josias, vol. 2, The Two Powers (Brooklyn: Angelico Press, 2022). ↩︎
  5. See: Aristotle, Metaphysics, VI.4 1027b; St Thomas Aquinas, In Metaph. VI, lect. 4, 1240. ↩︎
  6. See: James Berquist, “Uncommon Confusion: The New Natural Law Theory’s Confusion of Predication and Causality Destroys the Natural Order,” The Josias, February 13th, 2023. I am very much indebted to Berquist’s insights for my reading of the NNL. ↩︎
  7. St Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiæ, Ia-IIae, q.94, a.2, c; translation Laurence Shapcote, op, edited and revised by The Aquinas Institute, available online at aquinas.cc. ↩︎
  8. Germain Grisez, “The First Principle of Practical Reason: A Commentary on the Summa theologiae, 1-2, Question 94, Article 2,” in Natural Law Forum 10 (1965), 168-201, at 193-194. ↩︎
  9. Ibid., 182. ↩︎
  10. Ibid., 199. ↩︎
  11. ↩︎
  12. Patrick Lee, “The New Natural Law Theory,” 73; cf. Steven A. Long, “Fundamental Errors of the New Natural Law Theory” in The National Catholic Bioethics Quarterly 13.1 (2013) 105-131. ↩︎
  13. Germain Grisez, “The Restless Heart Blunder,” 2005 Aquinas Lecture, Center for Thomistic Studies, University of St. Thomas, Houston, Texas. ↩︎
  14. John Finnis, “Public Good: The Specifically Political Common Good in Aquinas,” in Robert P. George (ed.), Natural Law and Moral Inquiry: Ethics, Metaphysics, and Politics in the Thought of Germain Grisez (Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press, 1998), 174–209, at 187. ↩︎
  15. Ibid., 179. ↩︎
  16. John Finnis, Natural Law and Natural Rights, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2011), 206. ↩︎
  17. Ibid., 207. ↩︎
  18. Ibid., 210. ↩︎
  19. Ibid., 465. ↩︎
  20. ↩︎
  21. Ibid.210. ↩︎
  22. See: John Finnis, “Is Natural Law Theory Compatible with Limited Government?” in Robert P. George (ed.), Natural Law, Liberalism, and Morality: Contemporary Essays (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 1-26. ↩︎
  23. Ibid., 6-7. ↩︎
  24. Cf. the exchange between Thomas Pink and Finnis on the interpretation of Dignitatis humanæ in: John Keown and Robert P. George (eds), Reason, Morality, and Law: The Philosophy of John Finnis (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). ↩︎
  25. Robert P. George, Making Men Moral: Civil Liberties and Public Morality (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), ch. 7. ↩︎
  26. St Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiæ, Ia, q. 79, a. 11, cf. Long, “Fundamental Errors of the New Natural Law Theory,” 107-108. ↩︎
  27. Ibid., Ia-IIae, q. 90, a.2, arg. 2. ↩︎
  28. Ibid., Ia-IIae, q. 90, a.2, ad 2. ↩︎
  29. The following paragraph is based, in part, on my paper: “Common Good Eudemonism,” Divinitas 62.1 (2019), 425-439. ↩︎
  30. ↩︎
  31. Berquist, “Uncommon Confusion.” ↩︎
  32. ↩︎
  33. Ibid., Ia-IIae, q. 89, a. 6. ↩︎
  34. Berquist, “Uncommon Confusion.” ↩︎
  35. Plato, Republic, 500. ↩︎
  36. Aristotle, Politics, I.2 1252b 27. ↩︎
  37. See: Jacques de Monléon, Personne et Société (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2007) 142-145; Gregory Froelich, “Friendship and the Common Good,” The Aquinas Review 12 (2005) 37-58. ↩︎
  38. See: Charles De Koninck, On the Primacy of the Common Good: Against the Personalists, in: The Writings of Charles De Koninck, vol. 2, ed. Ralph McInerny (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2009). ↩︎
  39. Finnis, Natural Law and Natural Rights, 465; cf. Part I of the present essay. ↩︎
  40. ↩︎
  41. De Koninck, On the Primacy of the Common Good, 108. ↩︎
  42. Ibid., 80. ↩︎
  43. ↩︎
  44. ↩︎

Some Answers from the Integralists

Matthew B. Crawford has posted some questions for integralists at his Substack Newsletter. His main question seems to be this: Are integralists content with the bureaucratic form of government that has developed in modern states? Or do they want to abolish the modern state? If the former, Crawford is worried that such a form of governance cannot actually help people to become virtuous:

Would this not reproduce the vacant pseudo-citizenship we are permitted under the nudgers’ system of social cybernetics, which treats the human being as inert material to be molded by a new class of Conditioners? However much it is to be guided by Christian ends, the worry is that under this kind of politics, our thumotic capacity for overcoming obstacles, working in concert with our erotic attraction to some ideal, is left moribund and atrophying, just as it is under technocratic progressivism.

It seems to me that Crawford is confusing two questions better kept distinct. The first question is what the relation of spiritual and temporal power ought to be, given the superiority of the former. This is what integralism is about. The second question is about the size and organization of modern political life, and whether that needs to be fundamentally changed to help people develop the virtues. This is a separate, though certainly very important, question.

I would like to elucidate the distinction between the two questions by a comparison of political society to domestic society (the family or household). A domestic society ought, if possible, to be a Catholic household. This means that it sees the duties of religion, the duties of honoring and thanking God, as binding not only its individual members as individuals, but also the whole family as a society. The family ought to give corporate thanks to God. It ought also to recognize and obey the Apostolic Authority of the Church. If, for example, the bishop orders his subjects to fast on a certain day, the family ought to recognize the command of a superior authority and obey it. Obviously, there can be adverse circumstances that render such a Catholic family life impossible. If one of the spouses apostatizes, then the other can worship God as an individual, but not as part of Catholic domestic society. The domestic society in that case is religiously pluralistic, not Catholic, which is an objectively undesirable state of affairs. Such a state of affairs is analogous to that which obtains in political societies which are majority non-Christian, and (since the Reformation) in many nominally Christian ones as well.

The basic truth taught by integralism is that it is better (if possible) for a political society to be a Catholic polity, just as it is better (if possible) for a domestic society to be a Catholic family. Being a Catholic society is what we ought to desire and strive for. Not being a Catholic society is regrettably unavoidable in some circumstances, but one ought to hope for this to be changed by everyone finding their way to the fullness of Catholic truth. Just as the Catholic wife of a non-Catholic husband hopes that her husband will become Catholic, so the Catholic members of a religiously disunified political society hope that their fellow subjects will become Catholics.

Now, obviously, a domestic society can order its common life in many secondary ways that are very important for how effectively it can live a Catholic life. There is, for example, the question of whether the household lives by subsistence farming, or by cash-crops, or by cottage industry, or by the parents working outside the home in the modern capitalist economy. Or the question of whether the children are homeschooled or sent to public or private school, etc. All of these questions are very important to the life of the family, and how they are decided will certainly affect the ability of the family to raise virtuous children. But these questions cannot be collapsed into the question of whether the domestic society is Catholic. The Catholic Church acknowledges that there can be many different ways of ordering a family’s life with respect to the production of goods, the education of the children, etc. Some of these ways might be so undesirable that they should be avoided whenever possible. But in many cases families will be constrained by circumstances. 

It is similar in a political society. There are many ways in which a political society can be organized—from an ancient city, to an ancient empire, to a medieval kingdom, to a medieval Italian city republic, to a modern nation-state, etc. All of these forms of organization have their advantages and disadvantages. How a political society organizes itself will certainly affect the extent to which it can foster virtue in its members. Such organization is a very important matter for the common good, and The Josias has long been interested in such questions. But those questions are not the same as the question of integralism. The Catholic Church recognizes that different forms of organization are possible, and can be legitimate, as long as they are ordered to the common good. We can certainly argue over which form of rule is best for human beings, and which forms are relatively undesirable, but we shouldn’t confuse that question with the question of whether it is desirable for political societies to be Catholic.

But perhaps Crawford would respond that the modern “state” is not a political society in the relevant sense at all. Some have argued (Alasdair MacIntyre springs to mind), that “political society” cannot be univocally said of premodern societies, devoted to the cultivation of virtue, and modern bureaucratic ones in which virtue has supposedly been replaced by social-scientific management. If such arguments are right, then it is an error to consider the modern state as a κοινωνία τέλειος or societas perfecta—a stable union of a plurality of persons in pursuit of the complete common good of human life, arising necessarily from the teleology of human nature. On their view, the modern state would not be like a modern family, founded on the natural union of the sexes, but rather it would be like a pseudo-family founded on homosexual perversion or some other vice contrary to nature. On their view, none of the properties of a true political society could be found in the modern state, any more than the properties of the family are found in an unnatural sexual union. On their view therefore, our aim should not be to improve the modern state, to make it more Catholic and more conducive to virtue, but rather to abolish it. Just as the proper approach to a homosexual relation is not to try to improve it, but rather to dissolve it.

While I acknowledge the strength of the objection just sketched, I think that the conclusion goes too far. It seems to me that it is truer to think of modern states as sick, disordered political communities, that nevertheless do arise from the teleology of man’s political nature, than as complete perversions of that teleology. I think, therefore, that our aim should indeed be to heal, correct, and transform modern states. There are two reasons that lead me to this conclusion. The first is from experience. Anyone who knows good public servants and good politicians knows that their political nature is deeply engaged in their activity, in which they try to serve the societies in which they live. I think, for example, of a young Ukrainian, the nephew of a friend of mine, who cheerfully lost his eyes in defending his country against foreign invasion. He was convinced that the state that he defended, for all its faults, was worth defending, a society that to some degree seeks the common good of its members. Or I think of an Austrian provincial judge of my acquaintance, a just and prudent man, who excels in trying to find just solutions to disputes within the legal framework of the Austrian state. Or I think of two pro-life MPs of my acquaintance, one a Slovak, one an Austrian, both of whom are deeply engaged in the patient labor of correcting unjust laws and better securing the protection of the vulnerable, within the possibilities that the circumstances of their societies allow. Their effectiveness is partly derived from the evident love that they both have for the states that they serve. If they dismissed those states a priori as illegitimate bands of robbers, they would not be able to work within them. This then is the first reason why I think it is truer to say that modern states are faulty political societies, than not political societies at all: the experience of those involved in serving those states in virtuous ways.

The second reason is from the teaching authority of the Church. Modern Catholic Social Teaching has never proceeded from the premise that modern states are simply anti-societies, to which none of the traditional teaching on political authority applies. Rather, those who hold the teaching office in the Church have consistently seen modern states as natural law institutions, flowing from man’s political nature, capable therefore of issuing binding laws and commands. The focus, therefore, has always been on correcting such states, not on destroying them. Pope Leo XIII, for example, in the encyclical Au milieu des sollicitudes, argues that civil power of various kinds derives its authority from God, and that acceptance of an actually-constituted civil authority—even that of the Third French Republic, so offensive to French Catholics devoted to the ancien régime—is obligatory for Catholics. The efforts of French Catholics should not be to abolish the established civil power, but rather to transform it from within, making its legislation more just and equitable, and bringing it into greater harmony with the authority of the Church.

And here integralism is indeed relevant to the question of the transformation of the modern state. For the most foundational disease afflicting modern states is their refusal to give God His due, by rendering Him corporate thanks, and recognizing the authority of His Church. In this they resemble the pagan empires, which, as St Augustine argues, were not true res publicae, the common goods of peoples joined together by a common sense for what is right (jus), since they did not render God His due (jus), but rather rendered the worship due to Him to false idols. While Augustine perhaps goes to far in claiming that the pagan empires were not res publicae at all, he is certainly right that they were deeply defective societies. And modern “secular” states are caught in a similar trap. Their supposed “neutrality” is really a refusal to give God His due, which inevitably results in false idols being given His place, such as the liberal idols of freedom and equality. Integralism would therefore heal the foundational disease of the sick political societies of our time. The healing ought not to end there, however. Everything else that is wrong with them, that impedes them from fostering true virtue, ought to be healed as well.

Is Integralism Conservative?

1 Introduction

Integralism is a name that was given to the traditional political principles of Catholic Christendom at a time when those principles were coming under sustained attack by modern revolutions. Integralism is therefore traditional in the sense of belonging to a tradition. But is it traditionalist in the sense of giving importance to tradition as a measure of political and moral life? In other words: Is Integralism conservative? Does it have respect for long-established customs, and the wisdom embodied in long experience? Or is it rather a radical, puritanical doctrine that would completely remake societies on the basis of abstract, absolutist principles?

In the Catholic parts of Europe after the French Revolution, for the whole of the “long 19th century” integralism simply was conservatism. A conservative was a defender of throne and altar—that is, an integralist.[i] But now that the principles of the French Revolution have been established in Europe for so long, can one still call integralism conservative?

I will argue that integralism has aspects of both radicalism and conservatism. There is certainly in integralism an intransigent adherence to moral absolutes, which gives it an element of radicalism. But integralism has always also given an important place to tradition as a principle. We integralists respect the experiences of history, long-established custom, and local political variation. I want to manifest this briefly by summarizing the fundamentals of integralism as a teleological doctrine, and show how tradition is one important integralist principle among others. 

2 Integralism and Teleology

Integralism is based on a thoroughly teleological understanding of reality. It is based on an understanding of reality as most deeply explained by final causes, by goals or purposes that nature aims to reach or realize. Natures are not simple facticity, they are potentials being actualized. They are goal-directed. This understanding of reality was given an influential formulation by Aristotle. His view was profoundly consonant with that of the Hebrew scriptures and the New Testament. Hence, it is not surprising that in the Middle Ages this view was developed and extended among Christian, Jewish, and Islamic thinkers of various schools.

Applied to moral and political life, this teleological worldview has a tripartite pattern, which Alasdair MacIntyre summarizes as: 

  1. human nature as it happens to be, 
  2. human nature as it could be if it realized its telos
  3. moral training and instruction as a means to move from 1 to 2.[ii]

There is according to this scheme a basic contrast between two states of man. In the first state, man as he happens to be for the most part, morally untutored, and marked by disharmony between the higher and lower parts of his soul. He is, as Aristotle puts it, “in bondage.”[iii] Man in this state is frustrated and miserable because he is unable to attain the good towards which his nature inclines. In the second state, man has realized his potential, there is harmony between the different powers of his soul, the passions and emotions are docile to reason, and he is able to act excellently with ease. Man in the second state is courageous, self-controlled, foresightful, generous, wise, and happy. He is constantly enjoying the goods toward which his nature strives.

Since man is a political animal, moreover, he can only have this second state as part of a virtuous community. The human good is a common good. Far from being a hindrance to his actualization, the human community is necessary to that actualization.[iv] Man can only properly possess his good if he sees it as the good of a greater whole, a good toward which he is ordered, and for which it is noble to give his life.[v]

The transition from the first state to the second takes place above all by habituation. This habituation is brought about in various ways. It is brought about by education, in which parents, teachers, and rulers give authoritative guidance; by the praise that is given to noble actions and the blame that is accorded to base ones; by the rewards and punishments that counteract the impulses of disordered passion; by the fitting representation of good and evil in music, poetry, and other arts; by philosophical instruction, which aids insight into the true good; and so on. All of these modes depend on the intrinsic attraction and draw of the good itself. Their role is to make it easier for the intrinsic power of the good to operate on souls. 

A particularly important role is played here by political rulers, since they order all of the other modes. As Aristotle puts it, “since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from, the end of this science must include those of the others, so that this end must be the good for man.”[vi]

3 Nature, Grace, and the Two Powers

The Aristotelian teleological scheme is deepened by Christianity. The doctrine of original sin intensifies the contrast between the state of man as he happens to be and man as he could be. Through original sin man has lost the original harmony of his nature and it has become difficult for him to know and do the good. God first helped man through the Old Law, which instructed him in the good. But the Law was not sufficient to save fallen man. Therefore, God sent His own Son into the world to atone for original sin, heal human nature, and allow human beings a share in His divine life. It is by grace that Christ gives us a participation in His life. Grace not only heals fallen nature, it also elevates it, giving us an end higher than that to which we are ordered by nature. Grace thus founds a new community, the Church, whose common good is a supernatural good, greater than any natural fulfillment.

Grace does not replace nature, but it does subordinate natural ends to a higher end. Hence, we have a hierarchy of ends and a hierarchy of rulers. We have the natural end of human life (virtuous activity and wisdom in friendship), to which we are directed by natural (political) rulers, but we also have the supernatural end of human life (participation in God’s own activity), and we are directed to this by the rulers whom God has placed over His Church by sacramental grace, the successors of the Apostles.

From this follows the doctrine of the two powers or the two swords, which was taught already by Pope St Gelasius I in late antiquity, and which was further developed by the popes of the Middle Ages. In its details, this doctrine was highly contested, but in its basic principles it was accepted throughout Catholic Christendom. In the De Regno, St Thomas gives a summary of the basic principles which would have been broadly acceptable, and which it is worth quoting at length:

Through virtuous living man is further ordained to a higher end, which consists in the enjoyment of God. … Consequently, since society must have the same end as the individual man, it is not the ultimate end of an assembled multitude to live virtuously, but through virtuous living to attain to the possession of God. If this end could be attained by the power of human nature, then the duty of a king would have to include the direction of men to it. … Now the higher the end to which a government is ordained, the loftier that government is. Indeed, we always find that the one to whom it pertains to achieve the final end commands those who execute the things that are ordained to that end. For example, the captain, whose business it is to regulate navigation, tells the shipbuilder what kind of ship he must construct to be suitable for navigation. … But because a man does not attain his end, which is the possession of God, by human power but by divine, … therefore the task of leading him to that last end does not pertain to human but to divine government. Consequently, government of this kind pertains to that king who is not only a man, but also God, namely, our Lord Jesus Christ. … Hence a royal priesthood is derived from Him, and what is more, all those who believe in Christ, in so far as they are His members, are called kings and priests. Thus, in order that spiritual things might be distinguished from earthly things, the ministry of this kingdom has been entrusted not to earthly kings but to priests, and most of all to the chief priest, the successor of St. Peter, the Vicar of Christ, the Roman Pontiff. To him all the kings of the Christian People are to be subject as to our Lord Jesus Christ Himself. For those to whom pertains the care of intermediate ends should be subject to him to whom pertains the care of the ultimate end, and be directed by his rule.[vii]

It is this teleological doctrine of the two powers which is today the most controversial element of integralism. But in premodern Christendom, this basic doctrine was not controversial. Controversies arose with regard to the exact scope of each of the two powers and the cases in which they could interfere with each other. But the basic teleological order of the two powers was not in doubt. I have quoted St Thomas’s teaching on this, but the teaching was by no means peculiar to the Thomistic School. As Timothy Gerard Aloysius Wilson has shown, all of the schools of the first and of the second scholasticism shared this doctrine; we find it not only among the Thomists, but also among Scotists, and later among Molinists, Suarezians, and so on. 

Even Dante, in the De Monarchia, with its vehement defense of the distinction of imperial from papal power, concludes by conceding the point:

But the truth of this final question must not be restricted to mean that the Roman Prince shall not be subject in some degree to the Roman Pontiff, for felicity that is mortal is ordered in a measure after felicity that is immortal. Wherefore let Caesar honor Peter as a first-born son should honor his father, so that, refulgent with the light of paternal grace, he may illumine with greater radiance the earthly sphere over which he has been set by Him who alone is Ruler of all things spiritual and temporal.[viii]

In the 19th century, this teaching was vehemently defended by the integralist as an important consequence of a properly teleological understanding of nature and grace. The defense of the doctrine of the two swords was a defense of the primacy of the spiritual, the finality of the spiritual end, and of the social Kingship of Christ. As Father Félix Sardá y Salvany, one of the leading thinkers of 19thcentury integralism, put it:

[The] Integralism [the liberals] abhor and continuously revile is the integralism of the social rights of Christ-God, the Integralism of his divine sovereignty over States as much as over individuals. … [The] Integralism of the social laws of God and His holy Church is what we may call the fundamental Integralism.[ix]

And in the Manifesto of Burgos, the founding document of the first political movement to be explicitly called “integralist,” the principle is explained as follows:

As the body to the soul, so must the state be united and subordinated to the Church, the lesser luminary to the greater, the temporal sword to the spiritual sword, according to the terms and conditions that the Church of God lays down, and are established in our traditional laws.[x]

Note that the Manifesto of Burgos makes appeal to the “traditional laws” of Catholic Spain when it comes to the application of the principle. What role does integralism give to such traditional laws?

4 Teleology and Tradition

To readers of Hegelian philosophy, the notion of teleology might suggest the notion of social progress. But it is not difficult to see that the teleological scheme that I have sketched is in fact antithetical to modern progressivism. Every human being begins from square one with human nature in its untutored state, wounded by original sin, with reason out of harmony with the passions. Every human being must be rectified and perfected by the acquisition of good habits, both natural and supernatural. This rectification takes place by means of habituation, which is in effect the conforming of the individual to a traditional way of life, handed down from the excellent men of the past. Excellence is not achieved by innovation, but rather by conformity to the best models. The perfect man, Jesus Christ Himself, is the unsurpassable model, and the great saints of the early Church are the best mirror of His perfection. The ardor of the early days has waned, and so the expectation is of a tendency toward decline, which has to be resisted by constant striving to recover the excellence of the past. The human telos is fixed and determined, as are the means of approaching it. 

A good society is therefore a traditional society in which new generations are taught to imitate their elders and aspire to the excellence of their ancestors. A good society is also a hierarchical society, in which the necessary superiority of rulers is seen as beneficial to subjects, who are led thereby to their true happiness. The harmonious and hierarchical order of the parts of society reflects the harmonious and hierarchal order of the parts of the soul.

Progressivism, by contrast, in both of its main forms, is based on a rejection of the teleological scheme. One form of progressivism, which we can see in the tradition of Hobbes and of classical political economy, sees human beings as essentially selfish, slaves of restless passions, with no true telos, and no common good that could unite them to others. Social progress is achieved by setting up social mechanisms by which the self-interest of each furthers the general interest of all. Social progress is cumulative and linear, because it does not depend on the moral formation of the individual, but on the unintended consequences of non-moral actions.

Another form of progressivism, which can be seen in the tradition of Rousseau, sees human passion and feeling as basically good and generous, but corrupted by the artificial constraints of society. Progress is achieved, therefore, by eliminating social constraints on authentic feeling. This is the ideology that we see, for example, in the sexual revolution. Social progress is seen as cumulative and linear, because it depends not on the difficult struggle for virtue that has to be repeated in each human life, but rather on the abolition of repressive taboos which prevent the unimpeded expression of passion.

Integralism is implacably opposed to both forms of progressivism. Human happiness is achieved not by economic or social liberalism, but rather by conservatism. That is, to use Yoram Hazony’s description of conservatism, by propagating “beneficial ideas, behaviors, and institutions across generations.”[xi]

5 Two Objections

To clarify in what sense integralism can be conservative, I want to consider two (nearly) opposite objections which have recently been brought against integralism. The first objection is based on the work of the philosopher Robert Spaemann, which sees integralism as in a sense too conservative, based on a reduction of questions of truth to questions of the utility for the conservation of social order. I will argue that integralism is not, in fact, conservative in that sense. The second objection comes out of the tradition of Edmund Burke. It sees integralism as too rationalistic and abstract, a radical, puritanical doctrine, that would completely remake societies on the basis of abstract, absolutist principles. I will argue that integralism can in fact be more conservative than this objection supposes.

5.1 The Spaemannian Objection

The philosopher Robert Spaemann argued that Louis de Bonald and other Catholic reactionaries in their attempt to refute the Revolution and defend tradition, actually reinterpreted the tradition in modern terms. Their reactionary mode of thinking, he argues, “converts ontological truths into social functions, thus paving the way both for the reduction of truth to ideology and for truth to function as ideology.”[xii] This error of Bonald’s was, Spaemann suggests, compounded in later authoritarian thinkers such as Charles Maurras.[xiii] Writers such as Michael Hanby, D.C. Schindler, and Reuben Slife have recently suggested that this Spaemannian critique of reactionary thought can be applied to integralism.

Now, Spaemann’s argument does contain an important insight. There were errors in the reactionary thought of thinkers such as de Bonald and de Maistre, which led to even worse errors in thinkers such as Charles Maurras and Carl Schmitt. They were indeed too marked by Hobbesian and Romantic ideas and did not think metaphysically and teleologically enough. Nevertheless, a careful reader ought to be able to distinguish their thought from that of Catholic integralists, even when the latter at times made common cause with them. For example, the great integralist theologian Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange saw Maurras as an ally in the anti-liberal struggle prior to the condemnation of Maurras’s movement by the Holy See. In his introduction to St Thomas’s On Kingship, Garrigou even makes use of Maurras’s slogan politique d’abord (‘politics first’). Now, for Maurras that slogan was certainly an expression of sociological reductionism: social utility is the ultimate measure of truth. But this is not at all the way Garrigou, as a good Thomist, uses the slogan:

We note, furthermore, that the imperium or command, which directs the execution of the means chosen beforehand, proceeds in the reverse of the order of deliberation. In place of descending from the consideration of the end to be attained to that of the subordinated means last of all, command begins by applying this infirm means and raising it afterwards little by little to the superior means capable of obtaining the end pursued: Finis est primum in intentione et ultimum in executione. From this point of view one understands that in the order of execution, but not in the order of intention, one could say: politique d’abord. [In order that] social life may be possible, the city or country must be habitable, and the agitators must be expelled or brought to reason.[xiv]

In other words, Garrigou-Lagrange saw in Maurras’s movement a useful counter to the “agitators” who were destroying France, but he by no means succumbed to Maurras’s reductionism.

I would make the same point about the use that I and other contemporary integralists have occasionally made of the writings of Schmitt. I see some helpful insights in Schmitt’s critique of liberalism and in his early work on political representation (Roman Catholicism and Political Form), but I have no use whatever for the Hobbesian decisionism and sociological reductionism seemingly implied by Schmitt’s Political Theology.[xv]

Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical Æterni patris, which called for Catholic philosophy to be based on St Thomas was, I believe, partly inspired by the insight that the reactionary philosophy in vogue among many 19th century Catholics was too modern, too reductionist, and not realist and teleological enough. To be healthy, Catholic philosophy ought to turn to the most solid of the medieval scholastics. I fully agree with Pope Leo in this, as did the great integralists of the last century, men such as Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Louis Billot, Raphael Cardinal Merry del Val, Henri Grenier, Charles De Koninck, Louis Lachance, and Marcel de Corte.

5.2 The Burkean Objection

The second objection to integralism is in some ways the opposite of the first. It holds not that integralism is not metaphysical enough, but rather that it is too metaphysical, too abstract, too rationalistic. I once had a small exchange with the late Sir Roger Scruton in the pages of First Things in which Scruton raised just such an objection. I had argued that Scruton was too wary of a paternalistic understanding of politics, and Scruton responded as follows:

As for Fr. Waldstein’s theological vision of the good of government, I can only respond as Burke responded to the Reason advocated by the French Revolutionaries. He wrote: ‘We are afraid to put men to live and trade each on his own private stock of reason; because we suspect that this stock in each man is small, and that the individuals would do better to avail themselves of the general bank and capital of nations and of ages.’

Advocates of natural law in the Catholic tradition have often told us that the good is discoverable to reason, and that we have only to consult it. But they tend to be as reluctant as Waldstein to define who is doing the consulting, and how. Burke’s view, that there is a kind of reason that emerges through civil association, and which is both conserved in our traditions and irretrievably dispersed by the attempt to make it explicit, offers, to my mind, a better model of the place of reason in government. On Burke’s view, rational solutions emerge from below, by an invisible hand, and are not imposed from above by those who claim to have privileged knowledge of the natural law. (The same point is made in other terms by Hayek, in his defense of the common law.) One can agree with Kant’s warning against paternal government without thinking that ‘any submission to an authority other than the self is tyrannical.’ As I understand it, the art of living in society is precisely the art of submitting to authority—but doing so willingly, and in the little platoons that we ourselves create.[xvi]

Certainly, as an integralist I think that there are absolutely fixed moral truths that can be known both through reason and through revelation, and that the Catholic Church is the authoritative teacher about such truths. In that sense, I am not a conservative, that is, I am not a defeatist. No matter how long-established a certain moral error is in a society, no matter how universally it is accepted, I believe that it ought to be rooted out. Thus, for example, I do not think that we should ever give up the struggle against so-called “gay marriage,” no matter how long that practice has been established.

Nevertheless, I do think that there is a lot of truth to what Scruton was saying. There is a danger to seeing morality as a simple matter of rationalist deduction, as the Revolutionaries saw it, and of the impulse to simply overturn social order in accordance with such deduction. As I indicated above, morality is largely a matter of habituation, not deduction, and this demands a whole system of social traditions to be effectively carried on from one generation to the next. To the extent that there are still social traditions that are in accord with truth, they ought to be conserved. 

Moreover, most political questions are not a matter of moral absolutes. When it comes to the form of government, for example, I hold with Pope Leo XIII that monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy (as well as mixtures of the three) can all be just, as long as they pursue the true human good. On such questions I think we should indeed conserve the traditions of particular places and peoples. Even in the application of moral absolutes, we should be gentle and cautious. St Benedict of Nursia issues a warning to a zealous abbot that is equally applicable to politicians:

He must hate faults but love the brothers. When he must punish them, he should use prudence and avoid extremes; otherwise, by rubbing too hard to remove the rust, he may break the vessel.[xvii]

This, I believe, is how the restoration of a good society should take place, cautiously, lovingly, with reverence for the good that already exists, and nostalgia for the good that has passed away.


This paper is based on a talk which I gave at the Working-group on Conservatism in Europe (WoCE) Hosted by The European Conservative, Vienna, Austria, September 6th, 2023. My thanks to Mario Fantini for the invitation, and to all the participants for their helpful discussion.

[i] For the origins of the term “integralist” see the editor’s introductory note to Félix Sardá y Salvany, “Integralists?” trans. HHG, The Josias (2022), thejosias.com/2022/03/02/felix-sarda-y-salvany-on-the-word-integralists (accessed September 8th, 2023).

[ii] Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue, 3rd ed. (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007), 53.

[iii] Metaphysics, Bk. I, ch. 2, 982b30.

[iv] Cf. MacIntyre, After Virtue, 229.

[v] See: Edmund Waldstein, “The Primacy of the Common Good,” The Josias (2023) thejosias.com/2023/06/19/the-primacy-of-the-common-good (accessed September 4th, 2023).

[vi] Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Bk. I, ch. 2, 1094b5.

[vii] De Regno, I.15.

[viii] De Monarchia, III.XVI.9.

[ix] Sardá, “Integralists?”

[x] “Como el cuerpo al alma ha de estar unido y subordinado el Estado á la Iglesia, el luminar menor al mayor, la espada temporal a la espiritual, en los términos y condiciones que la Iglesia de Dios señala, como lo establecen nuestras leyes tradicionales.” [Manifestación hecha en Burgos por la prensa tradicionalista el mes de julio de 1888 (Madrid: Gabriel López, 1903), 20].

[xi] Yoram Hazony, Conservatism: A Rediscovery (London: Forum, 2022), xvi.

[xii] Michael Hanby, “Are We Postliberal Yet?” New Polity 3.3, 11-27, at 16, footnote 16.

[xiii] Robert Spaemann, Der Ursprung der Soziologie aus dem Geist der Restauration: Studien über L.G.A. de Bonald (München: Kösel, 1959), 181-191. This book was based on Spaemann’s dissertation, written under the direction of Joachim Ritter in Münster. Ritter was a liberal conservative, who wanted to move German conservatives away from nostalgia for past political forms, and towards support for the Christian Democratic principles of the Federal Republic of Germany. It is easy to see how a critique of Bonald’s intransigent support of the Ancien Régime fits into Ritter’s project.

[xiv] Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, On Royal Government, trans. Andrew Strain, www.academia.edu/8384944/Translation_of_Garrigou_Lagranges_On_Royal_Government (accessed September 4th, 2023), 9.

[xv] Schmitt is notoriously difficult to pin down, and it is not clear to what extent he actually holds the decisionism that he describes.

[xvi] “Letters,” First Things (October 2014).

[xvii] Regula Benedicti, 64:11-13.

The Primacy of the Common Good

For Joel Feil

PDF

1 What is Commonly Thought About the Common Good

1.1 Honor and the Common Good

Honor is a concept that is closely related to the common good, especially the political common good. Honor, Aristotle, notes, seems to be the end, the telos, of the political life. In truth however, he goes on to argue, the end of political life is virtue; we seek honor to convince ourselves that we are good, since honor is the recognition that others give to our virtue.[2] We human beings long to contribute to something greater than ourselves, and to have our contribution confirmed by the recognition of others, by honor. Jan Eyre, in Charlotte Brontë’s novel, after turning up destitute at the doorstep of Moor House, ends up as a schoolteacher in a small village. The usefulness of her work as a schoolteacher to the community, and the recognition, the honor, that she receives from the villagers for that contribution, make her feel that she is “sitting in sunshine, calm and sweet” and that her feelings are budding and blooming under its rays.[3] What is true of honor in a small village is even more true in a greater, properly political society that can achieve a greater common good.

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The Josias Podcast, Episode XXXI: Pope Benedict XVI

Urban Hannon, Matthew Walther, and the Rev. Jon Tveit join Pater Edmund to discuss the life, death, and writings of Pope Benedict XVI.

Bibliography

Jon Tveit, “The Liturgy and SocietyThe Josias.

Jonathan Culbreath, “Her Sacred Enterprise: Liturgy and the Common GoodPeregrine Magazine”.

Joseph Ratzinger, The Yes of Jesus Christ: Exercises in Faith, Hope, and Love. New York: Crossroad, 2005.

Music: Mozart, Krönungsmesse, KV 317, Benedictus, Regensburger Domspatzen under the direction of Georg Ratzinger.

Image: Stift Heiligenkreuz

If you have questions or comments, please send them to editors(at)thejosias.com.

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Many thanks to our generous supporters on Patreon, who enable us to pay for podcast hosting. If you have not yet joined them, please do so. You can set up a one-time or recurring donation in any amount. Even $1 a month would be splendid.

The Josias Podcast, Special Episode: The Politics of Hell

Urban Hannon’s “The Politics of Hell,” narrated by James T. Majewski of Catholic Culture Audiobooks.

Header Image: Neil Packer.

If you have questions or comments, please send them to editors(at)thejosias.com.

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Many thanks to our generous supporters on Patreon, who enable us to pay for podcast hosting. If you have not yet joined them, please do so. You can set up a one-time or recurring donation in any amount. Even $1 a month would be splendid.

The Josias Podcast, Episode XXX: Queen Elizabeth II

Pater Edmund speaks with Pater Ælred Maria Anthony John Howard Davies, Subprior of Stift Heiligenkreuz, about the late Queen Elizabeth II.

Music: Henry Purcell, Thou Knowest, Lord 

If you have questions or comments, please send them to editors(at)thejosias.com.

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Many thanks to our generous supporters on Patreon, who enable us to pay for podcast hosting. If you have not yet joined them, please do so. You can set up a one-time or recurring donation in any amount. Even $1 a month would be splendid.

The Josias Podcast, Episode XXIX: The Movies

Contributors to The Josias and Ius & Iusitium pick their favorite movies and discuss them. 

The result of the draft:

To vote for a winner click here.

Bibliography

Tertullian, De Spectaculis (On the Shows)

John Francis Nieto, A Study of Film.

Music: Max Steiner, “Tara Theme” from Gone with the Wind. 

If you have questions or comments, please send them to editors(at)thejosias.com.

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Rights and the Common Good

1. Beginning with the obvious[1]

Some things are difficult to understand because they are very abstract, separated from the concrete and sensible realities surrounding us—this is a difficulty that we experience, for example, in the consideration of the most universal predicates. Other things are difficult to understand because they are so exalted, existing on a higher level of perfection than us—this is the difficulty we find, for example in understanding the hierarchy of the angels. Yet other matters are difficult to understand because they are so complicated, involving so many parts and elements and influences that it is difficult to keep them all in our minds at once—for example, the politics of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

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The Josias Podcast, Special Episode: Lecture on Rights

Do rights exist, or are they moral fictions? What is the significance of the distinction between objective and subjective rights? In this lecture, Pater Edmund Waldstein, O.Cist. Gives an account of rights and their relation to the common good.

Bibliography and Links

Hispanus, Petrus. “Notes on Right and Law.” The Josias (2017).

Legge, Dominic O.P. “Do Thomists Have Rights?” Nova et Vetera, English Edition, 17.1 (2019): pp. 127–147.

MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory, 3rd ed. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007.

Pappin, Gladden J. “Rights, Moral Theology and Politics in Jean Gerson.” History of Political Thought 36.2 (2015), pp. 234-261.

Pinkoski, Nathan J. “Alasdair MacIntyre and Leo Strauss on the Activity of Philosophy.” The Review of Politics 82 (2020), pp. 97-122.

Rosenblatt, Helena. The Lost History of Liberalism: From Ancient Rome to the Twenty-First Century. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2018.

Strauss, Leo. Natural Right and History. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1953.

Tierney, Brian. The Idea of Natural Rights: Studies on Natural Rights, Natural Law, and Church Law 1150-1625. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997.

Header Image: Giovanni di Paolo, The Creation of the World and the Expulsion from Paradise (1445).

If you have questions or comments, please send them to editors(at)thejosias.com.

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Many thanks to our generous supporters on Patreon, who enable us to pay for podcast hosting. If you have not yet joined them, please do so. You can set up a one-time or recurring donation in any amount. Even $1 a month would be splendid.