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. ↩︎

‘Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit’ and ‘Creatio Ex Nihilo’: Science and Creation

William E. Carroll 

Is there a fundamental incompatibility between the first principle of the natural sciences that it is not possible to get something from nothing and a primary religious belief that God creates all that is “out of nothing”? Claims that we must choose between the two suffer from a misunderstanding of both. Thomas Aquinas provides a solution to the apparent contradiction between the two.

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Reading Laudate Deum in Context

It is a sad reality that many Catholics continue to see the social teaching of Pope Francis as somehow at odds with the history of Catholic social doctrine reaching back to Pope Leo XIII. Yet if we are to say that the temporal power ought to be subordinate to the spiritual power, we cannot with much credibility undermine the legitimacy of the Pope’s intervention into public life. But more to the point, what Pope Francis has put forward in his encyclicals Laudato Si’ and Fratelli Tutti is truly in harmony with the social vision that the popes have been advancing for the past 130 years.

To that end, what I intend to do is to situate the Pope’s most recent apostolic exhortation, Laudate Deum, within the context of the history of the Church’s social teaching. I propose to read the document as, at its heart, a critique of a technocracy which manifests itself in an individualist anthropology and a nationalistic global order. 

At the outset, it must be conceded that the specific scientific data to which Pope Francis appeals is not itself part of magisterial teaching. But Laudate Deum is not setting out to make any specific policy proposals. So the concern about whether or not the Holy Father is correct in his assessment of the risks of climate change seems to somewhat miss the point. For although he writes with clear conviction, he tempers his absolute certainty when he says: 

Certain apocalyptic diagnoses may well appear scarcely reasonable or insufficiently grounded. This should not lead us to ignore the real possibility that we are approaching a critical point. … We cannot state with certainty that all this is going to happen, based on present conditions. But it is certain that it continues to be a possibility.[1]

The Pope is not an authority in climate science, this much is true. But where the Church does exert her authority is as an “expert in humanity.”[2] Therefore what we ought to focus on is the moral core of the document’s message. Laudate Deum is a compelling assessment of the failures of modern society and as such is in substantial agreement with the whole tradition of Catholic social doctrine.

Technocratic anthropology

There is a deep irony in those who want to criticize Pope Francis for addressing an issue such as climate change because of his lack of expertise or competent authority in the matter, for this is an expression of precisely the kind of technocratic ideology that Laudate Deum rightly condemns. After all, who was Leo XIII to talk about economics? Who was Paul VI to talk about international development? They spoke not as “experts” in economics or politics per se, but with moral and spiritual authority as Vicar of Christ. And so now does Pope Francis. 

To contend that on issues such as the environment or international order, we should heed only the voice of specialized experts is to deny the properly human art of politics. Indeed it is a way of excluding ethics altogether and reducing politics entirely to a question of managerial expertise. 

This is what Laudate Deum regards as the “technocratic paradigm.”[3] The regime of experts, in its “admiration of progress” has “blinded us to the horror of its consequences.”[4] In other words, the technocrat is one obsessed with the “how,” but ignorant of the “why.” Such is our atheistic culture, devoid as it is of any sense of teleology. Yet it is precisely this ends-oriented worldview that Francis is looking to reassert. The counter to the technocratic paradigm is one in which “the creatures of this world no longer appear to us under merely natural guise, because the risen One is mysteriously holding them to himself and directing them towards fullness as their end.”[5]

The critique, at its most fundamental level, is that the technocrat has an essentially flawed anthropology. The technocratic view understands man purely as an economic animal, rather than as a properly political animal. That is to say, this flawed anthropology severs the essential link between man’s appetitive dimension and his rational dimension. Our desires are infinite. (And this is why they can only be properly fulfilled in God.) But the technocrat tries to address man’s desire through infinite material advancement, since man is seen as a being “with no limits, whose abilities and possibilities can be infinitely expanded thanks to technology.”[6]

Francis therefore calls for a “situated anthropocentrism,” which is in so many words an appeal to what the Church has taken to calling an “integral humanism,” that is, a “complete humanism,” which considers “the whole of man and all men.”[7] Genuine social progress relies on understanding human nature in all of its dimensions, both material and spiritual. Francis here emphasizes that this requires understanding man as situated within a finite cosmos. 

Contrary to this technocratic paradigm, we say that the world that surrounds us is not an object of exploitation, unbridled use and unlimited ambition. Nor can we claim that nature is a mere “setting” in which we develop our lives and our projects. For “we are part of nature, included in it and thus in constant interaction with it,” and thus “we [do] not look at the world from without but from within.”[8]

It is from this vantage that the Pope addresses the people of the world. Thus he calls upon mankind to “respect the laws of nature.”[9]

International Order

Another common criticism of Pope Francis is that he is too cozy with the United Nations and therefore speaks not on behalf of the faith of the Church but of an insidious globalist agenda. The text of Laudate Deum, however, provides a different picture.

But first, consider the words of Pope Paul VI in his address to the UN: “We are tempted to say that in a way this [international] characteristic of yours reflects in the temporal order what our Catholic Church intends to be in the spiritual order: one and universal.” Cooperation with and an optimistic view towards the United Nations would be nothing new on the part of Pope Francis. And yet, the words of Laudate Deum are hardly so starry-eyed.

The fourth major section of the document is mostly dedicated to recounting the failures of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change to accomplish anything of real substance. “Failure,” “ineffective,” “no progress,” “poorly implemented,” are words that resound throughout these paragraphs.

Doubtlessly, there are many who would want to see the Pope condemn altogether the notion of a supranational authority that can provide the kind of accountability that Francis is calling for. But such a nationalist agenda would itself be the real rupture with tradition. (As has previously been argued here at The Josias, the call for global authority is entirely traditional.)  Francis thus speaks in full continuity with both the pre- and post-conciliar magisterium in calling for a strengthening of international law and accountability.

Pius XI, for example, was emphatic on the need to subordinate merely national interests to the global common good.

Unsuppressed desires … are precisely the source of all international misunderstandings and rivalries, despite the fact that oftentimes men dare to maintain that acts prompted by such motives are excusable … out of love for country. …  [A]ll men are our brothers and members of the same great human family [and] it is never lawful nor even wise, to dissociate morality from the affairs of practical life.[10]

Benedict XVI likewise very famously called for “a true world political authority … universally recognized and vested with the effective power to ensure security for all … to have the authority to ensure compliance with its decisions from all parties.” All this, he writes, is “as envisaged by the Charter of the United Nations.”[11]

Francis therefore proposes nothing new in his advocacy of a strong international order. In fact, the language of Laudate Deum appears considerably softer than previous papal statements on the matter.

The emphasis in Laudate Deum regarding international order is on “multilateralism” as opposed to “a world authority concentrated in one person or in an elite with excessive power.”[12] The Holy Father also points out the importance of the principle of subsidiarity as we consider how global and local authorities interact.[13] The proposal here is quite the opposite of technocratic elitism.

Many today insist on treating political authority, whether national or international, as merely a question of “more” or “less,” but the vision of the Church has never been about more government or less government, but simply better government, suited to the necessities of the present. And insofar as the world now faces problems that are truly global in scope, it follows necessarily that a world political authority is needed. As Catholics we ought to be grateful our Holy Father is wading into such discussions and, if anything, should wish to see more and stronger assertions of this moral authority. 

Francis’ vision for an ethical international order is a strong refusal of the amoral, nationalistic, political realism that has taken root across the political spectrum. The thrust of Laudate Deum is unmistakably a call to conversion. That is why he concludes with these forceful words: “For when human beings claim to take God’s place, they become their own worst enemies.”[14]

Conclusion

The failure of technocracy shows itself both in the atomization of the individual vis-à-vis society, and of the nation vis-à-vis the global community. Laudate Deum is therefore a call to “integration,”[15] or as Pope Francis put it in a 2022 speech: “We cannot live with an economic pattern that comes from the liberals and the Enlightenment. … We need a Christian economy.” The claims regarding rising global temperatures and the proceedings of various climate conferences are simply not the heart of the document. The real thesis of the exhortation, as he states, is the twin claim: “Everything is connected.” and “No one is saved alone.”[16]

In rejecting technocracy, Pope Francis calls us back to “the nobility of politics,” and the reintroduction of both ethical and spiritual concerns in the public square.[17] So despite his failure to align with the political imagination of many conservatives especially in the United States, Pope Francis writes in clear continuity with the tradition of the Church’s social magisterium. 

Br. Anthony Maria Akerman, O.P. is a friar of the Western Dominican Province. He earned a Ph.D. in Theology from Claremont Graduate University and is currently studying at the Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology in preparation for ordination to the priesthood.


[1] Laudate Deum, 17.

[2] Compendium, 61; cf. Populorum Progressio, 13.

[3] Laudate Deum, 20.

[4] Ibid., 24.                                          

[5] Ibid., 65; quoting Laudato Si’, 100.

[6] Laudate Deum, 21.

[7] Compendium, 6-7, 82.

[8] Laudate Deum, 25; quoting Laudato Si’, 139, 220.

[9] Laudate Deum, 62.

[10] Ubi Arcano Dei Consilio, 25.

[11] Caritas in Veritate, 67.

[12] Laudate Deum, 35.

[13] Ibid., 36.

[14] Ibid., 73.

[15] Ibid., 36.

[16] Ibid., 19.

[17] Ibid., 60.

On the Crisis of Fat-Souled Men

The soul, like fire, rises by nature.[1] On the Mountain of Purgatory, the Roman poet Virgil explains to Dante that as a flame strives upward, so too does the soul strive to God.[2] The soul bears a “natural love” that desires to delight in beauty and be happy.[3] The soul hears the call to climb from lesser beauties to greater beauties until it is satiated in Beauty-itself, God. It is a primal desire kneaded into the nature of man that works in him to rise to God, his Maker. Every human soul has this love, this “desire for beauty.”[4] Yet, a thick forgetfulness, like a pall upon the heart, smothers modern man. Though called to ascend, he hates greatness and turns in his timidity to bestial pleasures and artificialities. We proclaim ourselves gods but live a life like cattle. We are called to ascend. We are called to shed the demon of our day and become beautiful in pursuit of Beauty.

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Machiavelli’s Secularization of Glory

Ubi est mors victoria tua?
ubi est mors stimulus tuus?
(1 Cor. 15:55)

Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori—“It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s fatherland,” proclaimed the Roman poet Horace.[1] Such was the sentiment shared by Niccolò Machiavelli in his exaltation of the fatherland (patria), expounded especially strongly in his critique of Christian religion, culminating in Discourses on Livy II.2. Machiavelli perceived a corrupted attitude among the citizenry toward their patria and laid blame at the foot of the altar: “For, had they borne in mind that religion permits us to exalt and defend the fatherland, they would have seen that it also wishes us to love and honour it, and to train ourselves to be such that we may defend it.”[2] While castigating the religion of his day as the source of weak and “effeminate”[3] attitudes toward the patria, he also claimed the mantle of Christian morality to argue that it was permissible and, indeed, laudable to defend and fight for the fatherland.[4] On this latter point, Machiavelli could have located vigorous support in the writings of many great minds throughout the history of Christendom. Yet, at the same time, he deliberately avoided doing so, and especially avoided the fact that a robust conception of the sacrifice and the virtue of dying for one’s patria had developed and reentered the social imagination over the course of the Middle Ages. This is likely no accident, as this conception was anything but Machiavelli’s own. To suffer death for one’s patria presupposed fighting for and defending it. Death inherently occupies a space between the temporal and the eternal; it is inescapably eschatological, inextricably bound up with questions of salvation, sacrifice, and martyrdom in Christian theology and imagination. For both Machiavelli and the medieval mind, sacrifice for the fatherland was a means of attaining glory—albeit in radically different ways. 

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The Primacy of the Common Good

For Joel Feil

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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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Human Happiness and Virtue

Introduction

The Aristotelian tradition has always maintained that human happiness must consist in a life of virtue. Indeed, Aristotle himself defined happiness as “an activity of the soul in accordance with virtue, and if there is more than one virtue, in accordance with the best or most complete.”[i] This definition may be one which is accepted by many, but it remains nonetheless debated and denied. Consider Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy’s notorious statement that “at the heart of liberty is the right to define one’s own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life.”[ii] In the 25 years since this startling declaration was made, society, especially in the West, has continued to wage war on common moral sense, and advocates for a more or less purely autonomous man. Man can now reimagine himself, and as if by fiat, determine what he is, who he is, and what will make him happy. To the contrary, the purpose of this paper is to lay out clearly and succinctly why the happy life for man must consist in a life of virtue. The necessary connection between happiness and virtue, far from being something known only by the wise, can be known by anyone through a careful reflection on their own lives.

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Our Contraceptive Speech

Master Adamo lies a bloated mass of “watery rot.” His amorphous frame bears his diseased paunch and distended limbs, as his lips curl and crack under his parching fever—despite being a waterlogged waste. He lies before Dante the Pilgrim and Virgil and explains how King Minos poured him into the last ditch of the eighth circle of hell. He was a counterfeiter of Florentine florins. He blurred the lines of reality in life and now he lays blurred—a poor counterfeit of his former self.

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