Duty To Protect

by Lucia Ann Silecchia, Ordinary Professor of Law


Next month will mark ten years since Pope Benedict XVI addressed the United Nations General Assembly, following in the footsteps of Pope Paul VI and Pope John Paul II who also spoke hopefully, cautiously, critically, and passionately about their aspirations for the family of nations.

In the decade since, there is one phrase in Pope Benedict’s address that strikes me as particularly worthy of reflection both in the international law context in which he expressed it but, perhaps even more so, as a succinct guide for a life lived well.

Pope Benedict spoke eloquently of a concept called “the duty to protect.” He did this in the context of international human rights law, noting, “[e]very state has the primary duty to protect its own population from grave and sustained violations of human rights, as well as from the consequences of humanitarian crises.” He went on to say that there is an important role for the international community to play should individual states be unable – or unwilling – to offer such protection.  Likewise, he affirmed that the duty or responsibility to protect has, since ancient times, been regarded as an essential function of government. He observed that it “was considered by the ancient ius gentium as the foundation of every action taken by those in government with regard to the governed.”

In his statement to the United Nations, Pope Benedict’s message was clear: the obligation to protect the dignity of the human person against all that may threaten it is the raison d’etre of national governments and international organizations. When they fulfill this function, governments serve their noble purposes.  However, when they are indifferent to this obligation – or worse – they can justly be regarded as failures.

Yet, on the personal level, the “duty to protect” might rightfully be seen as a guide to life itself — not merely a guide to good governance. To each person, many opportunities are given, each and every day, to serve as “protector.” In a single day, a person may be called to protect the innocence of a child, the safety of a frail elder, the hope of a friend in despair, the life of an infant in the womb, the faith of a stranger battered by life’s sorrow, or the soul of a brother facing temptation. That same person may be called to protect the reputation of one who is slandered, the beauty of God’s creation, the fragile peace of a volatile truce, the truth when it is distorted or mocked, or the sacred bond of a marriage in crisis. That person may also be asked to protect the freedom of someone enslaved by circumstances or choices, the dreams of someone who is discouraged, the dignity of someone who is vulnerable, and the courage of one who is fear-filled.

This duty to protect is a weighty responsibility that calls for a courageous selflessness and a willingness to put one’s strength at the service of others. Yet, Pope Benedict’s words of warning to the family of nations are also words of inspiration to the human family: “it is indifference or failure to intervene that do the real damage.”


Professor Silecchia, IHE Faculty Fellow, has taught at Catholic University’s Columbus School of Law since 1991. She has been an ordinary professor since 2004, and served as the law school’s Associate Dean for Academic Affairs in 2004 and 2005. She also directs Catholic University’s Summer Law Program in Rome. From September 2015 to August, 2017, she served as Catholic University’s Vice Provost for Policy.

Author George Weigel Shares Thoughts and Stories on Pope John Paul II in Book Q&A

By Thomas Dompkowski

Acclaimed Catholic author and NBC News Senior Vatican Analyst George Weigel addressed a group of about one hundred students, faculty members, and visitors about his newest book on Pope St. John Paul II, Lessons in Hope. The lecture, Q&A, book signing, and reception took place on Monday, January 22nd, at 6 PM in Heritage Hall, and was sponsored by Catholic’s Institute for Human Ecology

Weigel, best known for his acclaimed biography of Pope St. John Paul II, Witness to Hope, wanted this new book to tell the stories of the saint rather than provide another analysis of his life and teachings. Weigel, however, never intended to write the book he discussed before the audience. As the pope’s biographer, Weigel became the closest of friends with John Paul II and the two had an annual Christmas dinner. On December 15th, 2004, the last dinner he shared with Pope John Paul II passed away, Weigel promised the pope that he would continue to tell his story. This book, Weigel hopes, is the fulfillment of that promise he made to the pope more than thirteen years ago.

As a completely anecdotal work, Lessons in Hope is meant to “illuminate facets of this extraordinary life.” The book itself is divided into two sections based on statements by the Holy Father. The first section of the book is organized around what Weigel calls “an extraordinarily rich interior life.” In March of 1996, Pope St. John Paul II and Weigel were discussing a book about the history of the pope’s pontificate. In a fashion Weigel described as “whimsical,” the pope said to him, “I can only be understood from the inside.”

Weigel told the audience that all of Pope John Paul II’s actions and decisions were the fruits of his powerful prayer. The pope’s bold ecclesiastical appointments and his proposal of a World Youth Day, which is attended by many Catholic University students annually, were just some of these fruits. The pope could not just be understood by looking at his actions and prayer life, so Weigel needed to seek out John Paul’s friends to fully understand the pope’s “inside.”

While the pope was a priest in Stalin-era Poland, he befriended young Catholics from his area. He took them into the mountains so they could discuss Catholicism, away from the ever-listening Communist authorities who were determined to stamp out religion from the culture of Poland. It was in this “network of friendship” that some of the pope’s major ideas and initiatives were born, some of those being Theology of the Body, the book he would later author called Love and Responsibility, and the concept of World Youth Day. Weigel summarizes, “as he formed them, they formed him.”

The second section of the book came from a statement by the Holy Father to a gathering in Fatima, Portugal, on May 13th, 1982, exactly one year after the assassination attempt in Rome which almost took the pope’s life. Pope John Paul II stated, “In the designs of providence, there are no mere coincidences.” This was a direct reference to the assassination attempt, as the Holy Father believed that one hand fired the shot, but another hand, that of the Blessed Mother, guided the bullet; if the bullet had been mere millimeters in a different direction, the pope would have died. Weigel states that the pope viewed the attempt on his life as a “facet of divine providential plan.”

Weigel closed his lecture with advice to students and the need to reject the “tyranny of the possible,” the restriction that people feel to accept the status quo.

“Trust the instincts that seem right and after you’ve prayed over them, still seem right,” Weigel said. On the topic of vocations, he tells young people not only to pray, but to seek the counsel of friends and family. He ended the evening with a question and answer portion that involved questions about the current state of the Catholic Church and the role students can play.

This article was originally published in The Tower, The Catholic University of America’s Independent Student Newspaper.

Civitas Dei: The Most Glorious City

By Dr. Chad C. Pecknold

Long before St. Peter was martyred there, Rome was called “the eternal city.” Rome was founded by refugees who had fled fallen Troy, and with the neighboring Etruscans, the legendary twins Remus and Romulus founded a city which would rule the world for millennia in one way or another. Against the Roman idea of an eternal City, Augustine spoke of the city of God, the true eternal City.

While Rome had become Christian, it’s sack in 410 caused many elites to long for a restoration of the old order, convinced that Rome’s decline owed something to a betrayal of the gods, and the official turn towards Christianity. Augustine argued that God had blessed Rome most when it observed laws of nature more than the gods, and that even Rome’s best philosophers could see that the gods were fictions, and that there was only one cause of all existence, which we can call God.

Like Aristotle, Augustine observes that the human person is a social animal, and that this primary good of human nature causes every man to enter into fellowship with his neighbor to keep peace. (City of God, 19.12). This law, observable in human nature, is also tied to our conscience, our innate awareness of a distinction between good and evil acts, which is a good in us that “not even the iniquity of sin can destroy.”

What is also observable, however, after the mysterious loss of an original justice, is the tendency to move towards or away from the highest good. This can be seen in the household, in cities, in associations, in kingdoms, nations and empires. Sin pulls down our social and political nature, whereas God’s grace has come down in order to elevate us. Famously, Augustine calls these two tendencies “cities” (civitates). And what he tells Romans, over some 22 books and 1,100 pages, is that it is only by ordering her laws and her life to the city which is perfectly and justly united to the highest good that Rome will be truly “eternal.”

Whether every Roman elite longing to throw off Christianity was convinced by his argument or not, Augustine transformed the western political dynamic. He showed us how Catholic wisdom stands above, as revealed truth, to enlighten and illumine the direction of every actual human city. When Pope St. John Paul II spoke of the Church as “expert in humanity,” he spoke to this same truth that the Catholic vision is hydraulic. It raises the human person, the human family, the human city, even nations, up towards to City of God.

As some of our own elites long for a return to some invention of gods we make for ourselves, but who do us harm, it is this elevating wisdom from the City of God that the world needs again.

C.C. Pecknold is Associate Professor of Theology and Fellow at the Institute for Human Ecology at The Catholic University of America.

Natural Law and the Civitas Dei Program

What is the “natural law”? We sometimes hear this term batted around, especially in Catholic or politically conservative circles. But when we begin to think about objective grounds for moral judgments, things appear complicated. Is there a clear foundation for society’s moral norms or are they conventional? Can we make ethical judgements universally applicable to all or are they typically expressive of a particular culture or time in history? If there are such universal norms, how do we determine their content? Evidently such questions are essential to our practical lives. Civic and familial justice, common law, and political consensus are all based on the premise that we can deliberate about and identify shared moral norms.

When Thomas Aquinas discusses the foundations of the natural law (in Summa theologiae I-II, q. 94, a. 2) he characterizes these primarily in terms of basic human tendencies that are inherent to our nature as rational animals, ineradicable, and therefore common to all persons. Every human being has a natural tendency to desire existence, and health, that is to say to thrive as a living being. There are deep inclinations in human nature toward sexual reproduction, and the education of children. Human beings desire to live in community according to norms of friendship, justice and civic polity. They desire the truth and the pursuit of understanding. They desire knowledge of God, or of the absolute origin and source of their existence, so as to gain perspective on all things in light of what is primary.

Based on these basic human tendencies, all human beings and societies derive a set of responsibilities and rights: the responsibility to protect innocent life, to support and protect the family, to establish civic justice, to seek the truth through education and common deliberation, and to support the religious pursuit of knowledge of God and corporate worship. Of course, this is only the beginning: Aquinas goes on to details the virtues and vices, laws and practices that help human persons pursue a life of happiness in accord with the natural law. His vision is classical, and some would say quite traditional, but it also reflects well what one finds in most societies across the ages. How can we make sense of that vision in our own time, characterized by the constitutional framework of modern democracy, and in the service of our cosmopolitan world of the 21st century?

This coming summer in July 2018 the Institute for Human Ecology will begin a new collaboration with the Thomistic Institute to initiate the Civitas Dei Scholars program. Named for the “City of God” of St. Augustine, this program will invite graduate students and advanced undergraduates to apply for a fellowship to study for a week in Washington, D.C., in a collaborative program at the Catholic University of America and the Dominican House of Studies. This year’s theme is on The Foundations of Natural Law: An Introduction, and will feature Prof. Joseph Capizzi (Catholic University of America), Fr. Dominic Legge, O.P., (Dominican House of Studies), and Prof. Adrian Vermeule (Harvard Law School). The seminar will be inter-disciplinary, considering the topics of moral knowledge and the natural law tradition as they appear in the thought of Augustine, the teaching of Thomas Aquinas, and traditions of interpretation of the U.S. Constitution. Expenses are provided by the fellowship. To apply, students can find more information here.

Rep. Francis Rooney Joins Professors for a Conversation on Subsidiarity

What is subsidiarity and why does it matter in the world today? That was the topic up for discussion during a recent symposium hosted by the Institute for Human Ecology at The Catholic University of America.

The symposium, “Subsidiarity in Politics, Culture, and Economy,” took place on Oct. 23 and included a round-table discussion with U.S. Rep. Francis Rooney of Florida, as well as Catholic University professors Joseph Capizzi, executive director of the Institute for Human Ecology; David Cloutier, associate professor of moral theology and ethics; Bradley Lewis, associate professor of philosophy; and Andreas Widmer, director of the Ciocca Center for Principled Entrepreneurship.

Rooney, who served as the ambassador to the Holy See from 2005 to 2008, began the discussion with his definition of subsidiarity in the context of government and civil life as “the preservation of power to the people” and “devolving the solution back to the closest unit at which it can be solved.”

(left to right) Dr. Capizzi, Executive Director of The Institute for Human Ecology and Rep. Francis Rooney, former Ambassador to the Holy See

In the United States, Rooney said, subsidiarity often supports the concept of states’ rights, which advocates for most major decisions and policies to be decided at the state level.

Lewis spoke about the theological background of subsidiarity, which dates back to Pope Pius XI’s encyclical Quadragesimo Anno, drawing inspiration from writings by Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas.

Sometimes subsidiarity is seen as an opposite of solidarity, said Cloutier. In reality, he believes, the two principles should be used in cooperation.

“Subsidiarity is the means to real solidarity,” he said. “Solidary can’t come about from the top down, instead it has to come about from various associations at the ground level.”

As the conversation continued, the group debated if and how the idea of subsidiarity should be applied to current challenges facing the United States, including the insurance market, education policy, poverty relief efforts, and environmental regulations.

Attendees included a mix of students, academics and individuals from the local community.

While determining who should be in charge of particular decisions at any given moment is difficult to ascertain, Lewis said the main purpose of subsidiarity is helping human beings flourish by allowing them to determine their own actions.

“There’s a kind of freedom exercised with general human reasoning,” he said. “Subsidiarity allows people as much as possible to make their own decisions, even if it entails a certain loss at some point.”

As Cloutier said, subsidiarity is a call for people to exercise “freedom with responsibility” rather than relying on those above them to take control.

Where Are the All-Star Teams in Academia?

By Dr. Michael Pakaluk

The 1992 Summer Olympics remains famous today for the United States “dream team” for men’s basketball – Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, David Robinson, Karl Malone, Dave Stockton, and others.   It still seems incredible in retrospect that these extraordinary athletes were brought together to play on the same team.  If you were privileged to watch the games, or you have gone back now to look at the old videos, you know that these stars even surpassed expectations with their amazing, brilliant play.

That great team raises the question: What is it about all-star teams in general that is so appealing?  Why do we want so much to see top, skilled experts brought together and cooperating for a common goal?  The phenomenon is quite general.   One sees it not only in sports—golf is perhaps the best example, with its Ryder Cup and President’s Cup—but also in stories of the stories about the military (The Dirty Dozen), heroism (The Magnificent Seven, The Seven Samurai), or even scams (Ocean’s Eleven).  Entire TV series have been based on the idea (Mission Impossible). 

In part it is the brilliance of execution that astonishes us; in part the complementarity of skill; in part the sheer wonder of the unlikely assemblage (as when it seems amazing that all the great works of some famous artist have been brought together in a single exhibition); in part the sense that these “teams” express, with great intensity, some deep truth about how human beings are meant to associate and cooperate with one another.

These reflections raise a parallel question:  What are the all-star teams in academia?  Where are they to be found?  Once in a very great while, an academic department is like that.  These cases are so rare, that they become famous and well-know, such as physics at Princeton in the 1950s, or philosophy at Harvard in the 1900s.  But it is too hard to draw that kind of talent together; and colleagues are often contentious and break off into quarreling factions; and now hyper-specialization keeps professors, even in the same department, from collaborating. 

Academic conferences don’t even work like that, because each presenter has his own findings to argue for, and the scholars generally talk past each other, or they argue against one another.

But there is a kind of all-star team in Aristotelian ethics, which gets together each year, and which this year gathered at The Catholic University of America, under the auspices of The Institute for Human Ecology.  This group calls itself the “Aristotle Workshop.”  Its organizing committee comprises scholars from three continents: Marco Zingano, from the University of São Paulo in Brazil; Pierre Destree from the Université catholique de Louvain; and Michael Pakaluk, from The Catholic University of America.  Its meetings rotate among those continents, sometimes convening in Brazil, sometimes in Europe, sometimes in the United States. 

Here is how it worked this year.  On Thursday evening, a group of ten top scholars began arriving in Washington from around the United States and the world: Panos Dimas (Oslo); Susan Sauvé Meyer (U Penn); Jakub Jirsa (Prague); Hendrick Lorenz (Princeton); Krisanna Scheiter (Union College); Don Morrison (Rice); Jessica Moss (NYU); Mitzi Lee (Colorado, Boulder); Adam Beresford (U Mass, Boston) and Marco Zingano (São Paulo). On Friday morning, they were joined, in a seminar room on the Catholic University campus, by local scholar Rachel Singpurwalla (U Maryland) and professors from the host university (Jean de Groot, Stephen Ogden, Ignacio de Ribera Martin, Herbert Hartmann, and Paul Radich).  Students were welcome, and many participated.

Then commenced two days of intensive reading and discussion, of Aristotle’s account of justice in the Nicomachean Ethics.  The scholars would take turns translating the Greek and raising questions starting from a careful analysis of the text.  As is the explicit ethos of the Workshop, they worked together in a collaborative spirit of good will, not attempting to “score points,” but earnestly striving to reach the truth as regards many difficult problems, such as: 

  • What does it mean for justice to be the virtue of an individual, for Aristotle, rather than a trait of institutions? 
  • How does natural justice differ from conventional justice, and how is this difference manifested in law? 
  • Is it possible for a person deliberately to suffer injustice?  –If he wills the injustice, doesn’t the unfair portion which another enjoys into a gift?
  • Is suicide wrong because it is an injustice, and, if so, is it an injustice which a person commits against himself? (But generally one cannot commit an injustice against oneself—for example, no one can steal from himself.)
  • What is the virtue know traditionally as epikeia (“equity”), which leads a person in a friendly spirit not to claim what the letter of the law allows him when he can see that it would be more just in substance for him to claim less?
  • Can justice really be found in social units less than political society, such as the family?  Or are members of families not sufficiently “free and equal” for their relationships to exemplify justice—that they must look for love and friendship as the standard for relating?

Truth is in the details.  Fortunately, Aristotle is one of those great figures for whom a focus on details, and a consideration of big questions, always seem to go together.  In scrutinizing the Aristotle’s text carefully, these scholars raised for themselves and participants such big questions, and they gave careful consideration too, to Aristotle’s proposed answers.

And why does any of this matter?  Provost Andrew Abela greeted the Aristotle Workshop at the start of its first session, saying that “this kind of gathering is exactly what The Catholic University of America wishes to encourage; the earnest search for truth is what a genuine university stands for.”  The search for truth in goodwill along with fellow experts should be at the very heart of a university.  As those who participated in the Aristotle Workshop became even more deeply aware, in the course of this year’s amazingly profitable meeting, the question is not so much why this Workshop is valuable by why such gatherings are not replicated throughout ever unit of a university.

Why Should American Intelligence Be Ethical?

Double Lives & Moral Lives

Posted by The Institute for Human Ecology on Monday, October 30, 2017


Why should American intelligence be ethical?  The short answer is that it’s American.  And Americans, whatever their religious creed or background, have generally expected that our democratic government will be guided by ethical standards in all its activities and functions.  Intelligence, despite the misleading portrait of it offered by popular culture, is not, nor can it be, a “values-free zone.” 

For Americans to flourish, they need to be free from undue anxiety about their security, even at a time when there are so many potential threats to that security from beyond our borders:  North Korea, Iran, Russia, China, ISIS, the list goes on.  For American democracy to flourish, the US Intelligence Community needs to do its job identifying and understanding foreign threats.  At the same time, the American people expect that the clandestine collection and covert operations conducted to accomplish these national security goals must not threaten or diminish democratic liberties and values and will reflect as much as possible the ethical standards of the people for whom and in whose name these activities are conducted.

How do we determine the right balance between security and liberty?  What moral dilemmas do US intelligence officers encounter in their work?  Are the various mechanisms of accountability over intelligence, especially congressional oversight, working?  Most fundamentally, can a Christian (or an ethical person) serve as an intelligence officer?  These and other relevant questions will be explored at a symposium sponsored by the Intelligence Studies Program of The Catholic University of America, in partnership with the Institute for Human Ecology in order to illuminate the ethical dimension of US intelligence.

Featured participants include the main speaker, former CIA director Michael Hayden, and a distinguished panel with diverse backgrounds in journalism, the law, and the intelligence profession.  This unique discussion promises to bring insight and understanding regarding the moral challenges facing the men and women who serve in US intelligence. 

For more information on the event “Double Lives and Moral Lives: An Exploration into the Ethics of Intelligence,” please visit

Nicholas Dujmovic, Ph.D. is Director of the Intelligence Studies Program at The Catholic University of America.

Bishops Call for Nuclear Elimination but Forget Need for Modernization and Maintenance

By Joseph Capizzi, Ph.D.

On July 6, 2017, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops and the Conference of European Justice and Peace Commissions issued a joint declaration calling upon the international community to “map out a credible, verifiable, and enforceable strategy for the total elimination of nuclear weapons.”

The statement explains its reason for being: the “multipolar” nature of geopolitics today raises a different catalogue of threats than encountered when there were two nuclear superpowers.

Click here to read the full article, originally published by Providence Magazine.

IHE’s Executive Director Teaches Ethics in Mexico

This summer, IHE’s Executive Director Dr. Joseph Capizzi taught a course on “Ethics and Natural Law” in the Department of Social Sciences and Humanities at the Universidad del Valle de Atemajac (UNIVA) in Guadalajara, Mexico.

In addition to teaching ethics at UNIVA’s main campus he also gave a lecture on ethics and media, “La Etica en los Medios” to the University faculty.

The Universidad del Valle de Atemajac is a Catholic University guided by the spirit of Pope Saint John Paul II’s Apostolic Constitution Ex Corde Ecclesiae. It contributes to rigorous teaching and development of human dignity and cultural heritage through research, teaching, and a variety of services offered to local, national, and international communities.

The Institute for Human Ecology is proud to be part of a multicultural ethical formation of professionals and is committed to the service of the community, through the search of truth, freedom, and an understanding of the human person and culture as the driving force behind the way we form human relationships.


Unlikely Twins – On similarities between Communism and Liberal Democracy

By Ryszard Legutko

Let me start by expressing my gratitude to The Catholic University of America for inviting me and giving me a floor to present my ideas. It has been, indeed, a very flattering invitation and I feel honoured to be here. I really am.

I have come here to talk about my recent book, or rather about the main thesis of the book which says that despite enormous differences, clear to everyone with elementary intelligence and knowledge, differences which in no way should be minimized, there is a considerable resemblance between communism and liberal democracy. This thesis meets immediately with two contradictory counterarguments. The first states that the thesis is simply nonsense: those differences are so great that no sane person can seriously think that a totalitarian regime responsible for the deaths of millions of people is even remotely similar to modern liberal democracy with its multi-party system and a thriving civil society. On the other hand – and this is the second counter-argument – calling political arrangements totalitarian, or fascist, or Stalinist, or authoritarian, or Orwellian, has become a cliché in today’s discourse and the reductio ad Hitlerum has been a standard rhetorical weapon used to excess by all and sundry. The thesis of the book may, therefore, seem to be both an outrageous absurdity and a political cliché.

And yet, unsurprisingly, I believe my book is neither. But before summarizing the book’s argument, let me describe the personal experience which made me arrive at the ideas that constitute the backbone of the book. Then I will try to explain how I arrived at the thesis and what it means. Afterwards I will present some arguments that support it, and finally, I will make some additional concluding comments.

For a person like myself living in a communist society but being born in a radically anti-communist family and becoming later consistently hostile to the communist system, it was obvious that Western liberal democracy was the opposite of what Ronald Reagan called the Evil Empire—a name we, the East European anti-communists, wholeheartedly welcomed. Western liberal democracy was thought to be the opposite of communism not only because it offered people freedom and dignity which we in the Eastern part of Europe were deprived of, but also because it was believed to be an outcome of a long civilizational and cultural process. The Western system we thought reflected – not literally, but not only symbolically either – the best what the West created, from Greek philosophy, Roman law, and Christian religion, to the spirit of scientific inquiry, technology and a culture of civility. In short, living in a communist country was for us like living outside the West; liberating oneself from communism was like re-joining the West, not only politically and economically, but also intellectually and spiritually. The West had its problems, to be sure—particularly its soft spot for communism—but we thought this was just a minor problem, soon to disappear.

But after the old regime collapsed I experienced several major disappointments which made me rethink and soon revise my enthusiasm for the theory and practice of liberal democracy. A brief period of joyful expectations ended, and then came critical reflection. The direct stimulus was a harrowing feeling that gripped me, a feeling that the mental world I was beginning to live in was not much different from what had surrounded me in the past. The expression “mental world” is, I admit, somewhat fuzzy, but I cannot find a better one. Perhaps it will become clear when I will tell you more about the disappointments which made me reject my initial position.

First, I discovered that the new system had, like the old one, a strong sense of the enemy. As soon as liberal democracy began to take root in my country, I noticed that the dualistic pattern I remembered from the old days continued to exist in the new conditions: good guys with good ideas against bad guys with bad ideas. The former were to be respected; the latter were not only to be criticized but condemned. I am not talking about many different local divisions and conflicts; I am talking about the dualism that was intended to tear apart the entire society or even, in a more sweeping version, the entire modern world. What astonished me was not that the house continued to be divided, but that many of the bad guys in liberal democracy were the same people, groups, organizations that had been bad in communism. Mostly these were conservatives, traditionalists, anti-communists, patriots (called nationalists), and in particularly Catholics and the Catholic Church. A lot of the new good guys were the old good guys, including the communist intelligentsia. The very same people who for decades had been calling for the workers of the world to unite against reactionaries were now calling for all the liberal democrats to unite, also against the very same reactionaries. There emerged a new and strong alliance – surprising, even shocking to many – of some of the former oppositionists and former communist intellectuals and politicians – who together immediately declared themselves to be the midwives of the new political system and its only legitimate guardians.

Second, what I found disturbing in the liberal democratic society was that the political language we used was not that of freedom, but that of necessity. One would have thought that after the fall of the regime, freedom would be the first principle to embrace, primarily freedom to think, to build institutions, to create, to discover, to search for the truth. But this was not the case. From day one we were made to accept that there already exists a blueprint for a good liberal democratic society, tried and generally agreed upon, which should be implemented. No more inventions, no more eccentricities: one has to follow the path that others have already passed and showed us the direction. I remember a debate among my colleagues about which direction our university should go once the communist yoke was shaken off, and the answer was almost unanimous: we should not try to discover America, but be like any other university from Vancouver, Canada to Auckland, New Zealand. The new system has its imperatives to which we have to give our assent, not only as regards university but also in law, in education, in morality, in family life, in entertainment. We were told: now that you are free, you must do this, this, and this. The internal contradiction within this language – “because you are free, you must…” – went almost unnoticed.

Third, I also was surprised and then shocked by the degree of social engineering that from the start the new system set in motion. And again, the language was most revealing. One could not help seeing an analogy between what was said right after the World War II when the communists seized power in Poland coming on the Soviet tanks, and what was said in Poland when the liberal democratic system was being installed. Each time the architects of the new order as well as the intelligentsia that supported it talked of “a new man,” “a new Pole” that had to be moulded because the vast majority were, as it was then called, “men belonging to the past” who no longer fit the new situation and the new challenges. The new times – it was said both then and now – needed new thinking, and new thinking required getting rid of old thinking. The modern mind had to be reshaped, educated (or re-educated), corrected, raised, and even recycled to be able to work in the new order that was being built. What was particularly astonishing in this attitude at the birth of a liberal democratic society in Poland was that it was the “man belonging to the past”, not “the new man” that should have been given credit for abolishing the old regime, and for this reason he should have been given a rightful place in liberated Poland instead of being humiliated and made an object of derision and then recycling. The Solidarity movement in 1980-1981 that shook the communist empire in Eastern Europe was composed of “men belonging to the past” – workers, priests, patriots, church-goers, respectable men and women strongly attached to tradition and national culture. About ten years later all of them were thought of as living anachronisms either to be mentally reformed or thrown into the dustbin of history.

These three—and several other experiences—I found disconcerting the more so that I knew they were not limited to my country or to the former Soviet colonies but were characteristic of the entire Western world. And since what was going on reminded me of what I had been exposed to during the communist rule, I, after a period of hard thinking, became ready to consider a hitherto hard-to-believe possibility that the two systems – communism and liberal democracy – might have something in common. And this was how I wrote an essay, and then a book. When the essay was published, it met with extreme reactions – some called it eye-opening, others dismissed it as ravings of a mad mind.

The book’s thesis is simple, but it has rather complex arguments to support it. If I were to give a shortest possible summary of the argument, I would say as follows.

What makes communism and liberal democracy akin, or consonant with each other is that in each case the political system is so predominant that it permeates the entire social fabric, all institutions, norms and human minds. Just as communism provided the ultimate frame of reference for everything that was happening in a communist society, so does liberal democracy provide such a frame of reference for everything that is happening in a liberal democratic society.

To put it differently, it was in the nature of the old regime that everything had to be communist and be called communist. There was not a family, but a communist family, not education, but a communist education, not society, but a communist society, not morality, but a communist morality, not art, but a communist art. Much later in the new conditions, I was somewhat dismayed to discover that also a liberal democratic society it is expected that everything should reflect the liberal democratic logic: family should become liberalized and democratized, so should schools, morals, social norms. It is even assumed that religion and churches will become more liberal and more democratic, both in their practice and in doctrines; even God has come to resemble a liberal democrat, just as in communism God, though he did not exist, was nevertheless a good communist. In communism, the adjective “communist” was a trump word: whatever was communist was superior to anything non-communist. I noticed that also in modern democracy “democratic” has become a trump word, just as “non-democratic” became one of strong condemnation.

All this led me to formulate a thesis that both systems have an inexorable tendency to politicization, that is, that both systems tend to impose their structures, procedures, principles, presuppositions on every aspect of society, on people’s lives, thoughts, actions. And not only do those systems impose their own structures, procedures, principles, presuppositions, but they believe this imposition to be beneficial, necessary, desired by people, and also being in accordance with the general current of the civilization.

The communist politicization was indeed comprehensive in scope and painfully intrusive. No wonder that for some it was unbearable. Therefore, those people who defied it looked for areas not yet touched by politics in which they could find refuge from political aggression: these areas could be private life, art, intellectual activities, religion. But in reality, finding refuge turned out to be most difficult: the communist authorities were, of course, aware of these escapist strategies and did their best to annex those areas and incorporate them under their political dominion.

Family and private life seemed to be the obvious fortresses within which one could find peace and security from the ubiquity of official ideology and propaganda. There were other fortresses – historical memory, or individual memory preserved in narratives shared among friends. Likewise, art and beauty – people were seeking asylum from the ugliness and stifling tedium of the ideology in classical poetry, or music, or the works of the masters, and were escaping from the reverberating vulgarity of the communist newspeak by memorizing old poems or reading classical literature, or going church with its liturgy, the word of the Gospels, mystery and spirituality. The existence of the Catholic Church in my country was a reality of paramount importance for saving the soul of the nation.

But the communists, as I said, were aware of these strategies and did everything they could to conquer those territories. It was particularly true in the early stages of their reign when the new ideology had a deafening volume and stultifying intensity. The attack on the private life and the family life was then particularly strong. The communists were in the world’s avant-garde of change – the first to have divorces easily obtainable and accessible; the first to introduce abortion on demand; the first to empower the young against the old, students against teachers, children against parents. But later the communist party let it go and its grip on politics was loosening. After the period of the tyranny of the so-called socialist realism, art became freer; the humanities, at the beginning being entirely in the service of the system, later gained some independence; language, from the beginning being under a special surveillance and having deteriorated into a newspeak, later considerably emancipated itself from the chains of ideology.

The communists’ method for exercising control over these realities – family, private life, art, morals, language – was to introduce and then to enforce a criterion, in fact, the criterion, of correctness. Since everything was political and because politics was regulated by ideology, it was obvious that everything had to be compatible with the basic principles of this ideology, and no dissonant notes were allowed. There were no innocuous remarks or acts because everything was clearly congruent or clearly incongruent with the ideology. As the communist system was falling apart, this criterion of correctness was replaced by that of non-contradiction. Words and deeds – it was assumed – must not be in contradiction with the communist ideology. This marked an important change, as initially, the criterion was stronger – congruence is a more demanding criterion that non-contradiction. Congruence with doctrine was called correctness, and correctness replaced truth, beauty, elegance, style. Every time and in each case – whether it was a private experience, or a thought, or a speech, or a poem, or a philosophical statement – this congruence had to be evident, clear, easy to perceive to all. This meant that everybody, in whatever he did or said, had to make an effort to show this congruence, to prove it – by a phrase, a gesture, a symbol – in order to pre-empt all possible doubts and accusations. And precisely because people were obliged to prove their correctness, many saw in it an opportunity to trace and then to hunt down those who were too lazy, or too reckless, or too naïve to make their correctness manifest, or, horribile dictu, deliberately ignored it.

Now let me say a few words about liberal democracy. If what I said about the omnipresence of liberal and democratic principles in today’s western societies is true, it would be natural to ask how strong are possible fortresses within which some of us could try to hide, being put off by the new tides of liberal-democratic political offensives. How strong, for example, is the private sphere and a family life against liberal democratic political crusades? Are our private lives more secure now than they were, say, twenty or thirty years ago? To what extent are our thoughts imbued with the liberal and democratic ideas when we think of family, or try to organize our own family life, or give advice to our friends on family matters? Are we more inclined or less inclined than before to speak of family, using such political words as “power”, “empowerment”, “equality”, “rights”, “gender”? Is law more involved or less involved in regulating family relations? Or take sex which is, one would think, the most private intimate of all private intimate matters. Has sex become over past decades more or less a matter taken up and regulated by governments, legislatures, courts, and all sorts of agencies? Or let us take other possible fortresses or places of refuge – art, religion, language, history, memory – are they providing, today, more protection against liberal-democratic politics or less? Is language free from political intervention or is it more and more politically controlled? Can one easily publish a book or an article that does not accord with the regulations of the politically acceptable jargon? Are the restrictions more severe or less severe than those in the past? Are our universities the monuments of academic liberty and openness, ruled by Cardinal Newman’s gentlemen, or have they been moving away from these standards? Is the language taught in schools a language of English and American literature or is it the language more and more resembling the gobbledygook of current political ideologies?

There are at least three possible relations between liberal democratic orthodoxy and those places of refuge. The first is that of neutrality. The liberal democratic system simply ignores what sort of ideas are being pursued and upheld: they may be monarchic, or aristocratic, or anarchist, or communist, or conservative, or nihilist. This possibility seems to me rather hypothetical than real. I seriously doubt whether a liberal democratic system can be neutral with regards to many such fortresses. Democracy contains an inherent mechanism of politicization because it involves in the political process more people than any other system. There is nothing in the nature of democracy that could prevent the demos from imposing a stamp of politics on the private matters to make them subservient to their current political pieties. With liberalism, it is even more obvious. Liberalism has always had two features which make it resistant to neutrality, also in the matters which were traditionally regarded as non-political. First, its concept of human nature is that of a private person, as contrasted with the political man, to use an Aristotelian concept. Secondly, liberalism is essentially political – its declarations to the contrary notwithstanding – because its aim is to impose its order on the entirety of human arrangements; it always positions itself above other types of arrangements because it considers itself to be more spacious, larger and all-encompassing, a meta-system, a system of the second order, best suited to organize life for others. It is also intensely political because it is built on and takes its force from a dichotomy – freedom versus authority, liberty versus despotism, individual rights versus the government’s prerogatives. This paradoxical combination, a liberal man as a private person concerned with individual pursuits – money, property, career, private pleasures – and the inherently political nature of the system, could not but break the ramparts surrounding the private realm and impregnate it with political content. It is then my contention that liberalism, from John Locke onwards, was the major vehicle that brought private matters to the public square and made it highly political. This, I think, explains why liberal democracy is unlikely to tolerate non-liberal and non-democratic enclaves.

The second possible relation is that of non-contradiction. This means that the liberal democrats ignore those non-liberal and non-democratic enclaves as long as those enclaves do not explicitly contradict the principles of liberal democracy. This is a rather obscure statement because we do not really know what does and what does not contradict the liberal democratic principles. A typical liberal democrat, if asked, would reply that we cannot tolerate fascist ideas, but as the word fascist long ago lost any concrete meaning, this does not move us far. If asked again whether we should also be ban communist ideas, the same liberal democrat will hesitate and will probably evade a clear answer. There are more and more Protean concepts denoting things that are believed to be incompatible with liberal democracy – nationalism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism. One cannot resist a feeling, indeed, something more than a feeling, that what is not permitted has been growing in recent decades, what is permitted seems to be decreasing. Toutes proportions gardes, one could paraphrase a well-known statement known from the history of communism: the class struggle intensifies with the development of the communist society. Today we would say: the closer we are to the ideal of liberal democracy, the more menacing are the dangers it has to stand up against and the fiercer are the battles to fight.

The third possibility is that of congruence. We tolerate only those ideas that are congruent with liberal-democratic orthodoxy. This by no means – it is argued – implies limitation of liberties because liberal democracy is the freest, most open, most pluralistic, most tolerant system, and enforcing this orthodoxy we, in fact, enforce freedom, openness, pluralism, tolerance, equality. This argument sounds rather suspicious, but it is something I often hear in a slightly more camouflaged form in the European Union. The gist of this argument is semantic, not empirical – if liberalism means being in favour of freedom, and if democracy means being in favour of the power of the people – then imposing liberal democracy means by definition making the world freer and the people more empowered. The possibility that liberal democracy may curtail freedom and be against people is ruled out on the level of the definition. To speak more philosophically, this proposition is true as an analytical proposition: you define liberalism as a theory and a movement upholding freedom, just as the proposition “every bachelor is an unmarried man” is true analytically because bachelor is defined as an unmarried man. As an empirical proposition, however, describing the actual policies or political agendas of parties, governments, and organizations, it need not be true; in fact, it is often false. By analogy, nationalism defined as a movement upholding the interest of a nation upholds the interest of the nation on the level of definition; in practice, however, this or that nationalist group may do a great disservice to the nation. Or aristocracy defined as a rule of the best and the virtuous is, on the level of the definition, a system in which the best and the virtuous rule, but in reality, this or that elite claiming to be an aristocracy may be a gang of thugs.

Now the question is: where are we now in western societies as regards those possibilities. I will not venture to make a statement about the United States, but in Europe, and particularly in the European Union, we are somewhere between the second and third option, the third appearing to be stronger every day. If so, the main thesis of my book seems, unfortunately, to have another corroboration.

Once we agree that what makes communism and liberal democracy similar is an unusually high degree of politicization, we are faced with two possibilities. The first possibility is that the communists were right in their belief that a political system should dominate our lives and permeate the entire social fabric, but they made an error – a costly one, to be sure – indicating communism to perform this role. In other words, there is nothing wrong with the omnipresence of politics as long as the political system is good. Since communism was not good, the pervasiveness of communist politics was not good either. The second possibility is that the communists were wrong on both counts. Not only the system was bad, but politicization as such is also bad whatever the system. If we choose the first possibility, the thesis of my book crumbles. We can then say that there is nothing wrong with these similarities because they are merely formal, not substantive. The forms may be similar – omnipresence of ideology and politics – but the substance is in each system different: democratic politics is good and communist politics was bad.

If we choose the second possibility and say that the invasion of politics into every nook and cranny is bad, regardless of the nature of the political system, then we are in a position to raise a serious objection against liberal democracy accusing it of totalizing ambitions. This, in turn, opens a serious theoretical and institutional problem, namely, how to curb these ambitions and what instruments the liberal democratic system has – if any at all – to do the job. The problem is indeed a fundamental one. Liberal democracy is a system which seems to meet all the criteria of a good order (the criteria which, needless to say, the communist system failed to meet): plurality of political parties, a constitutional freedom of the press, a constitutional liberty to form associations, separation of powers, parliament, elections, and yet all these seem to produce adverse results. It has proved unable to engender any form of self-restraint. Therefore, it may very well be that the problem is not structural and does not have a structural solution, but lies deeper in those parts of human experience that are far more resistant to human action.

It seems that what joins communism and liberal democracy intellectually on a deeper, more philosophical level are certain general assumptions, rarely questioned, to which most of us have accepted as self-evident, but which are far from obvious. In fact, they are a major part of the problem.

  1. Communism and liberal democracy have been the greatest political dreams of modern history. No other political projects have been so universally hailed as the ultimate realizations of people’s aspirations. The human race – it was believed – could not go any further in political evolution than communism in one case, and liberal democracy in the other. What united the minds of the adherents of both systems was the logical and historical absence of any alternative form of political arrangements now or in the future. And with the disappearance of all alternatives, there are no good reasons why the systems cannot be extended everywhere and why this ever deeper and ever wider extension should not be claimed to beneficial and sensible. In other words, the dedicated communists and the dedicated liberal democrats suffer from the same error, the error of big dreamers, which one might call a misplacement of perfection. The real perfection lies elsewhere, not in politics, and certainly not in political arrangements.
  2. Since both systems are considered ultimate and having no alternative, there is no room for a compromise with their critics. The critics are not just critics, but enemies. One does not seriously enter into a debate with a non-liberal or with a non-democrat, as a communist did not seriously enter into a debate with a non-communist. But the consequence of this is the emergence of something like a united front. We had the united fronts in communism built around the communist party. We have something like it today. This is particularly true of the EU ruled by the same permanent majority which is political (grand coalition), teleological (common goal to be achieved – an ever closer union), and ideological (composed of all leftist ideologies that are around today). This, in turn, undermines or makes irrelevant the classical division between the Left and the Right, which has been replaced by the mainstream politics, the modern equivalent of the leading role of the Party. This mainstream politics has monopolized the political scene and has formed a ruling orthodoxy, thus making a mechanism of a democratic pendulum obsolete and redundant, sometimes even harmful. Whoever does not belong to the mainstream is either a fool or a fascist. For that reason, the EU does not like dissenters. But this is not only the EU. In most West European countries, we also have a de facto mainstream politics, dominated by the political Left as the political Right has lost the war of ideas and capitulated.
  3. Both systems were considered to be the great experiments in modernization which one group identified with communism, the other with liberal democracy. Both were against the old in favour of the new. Both take their legitimacy from overcoming and surpassing the past. The past is something to be looked at with suspicion mixed with contempt. If the old-new dichotomy is sufficiently deeply embedded in people’s minds, they are apt to apply it not only to technology and machines, but also to their own social and cultural environment, to social structures, morality, education, thinking, art. Everything has to be modernized, and modernisation allows a deep intrusion into the existing social arrangements, into people’s way of thinking. It is therefore tempting to create not only new type of society, but also a new type of human being and new types of human relations. The communists and the liberal democrats, like all enthusiastic modernizers, are hubristic, feeling nothing but disdain for barriers, limits, natural restraints, taboos, historically grounded norms. The communists tried to reverse the current of the Siberian rivers; the liberal democrats redefine marriage and family.
  4. Both stem from a similar anthropology that reduces human beings to simple characteristics – creatures who are rather flat with no metaphysical dimension. In both systems anthropology is egalitarian. Equality is believed to be a natural condition, not only equality of people, but also equality of human consciousness, or human soul, where there is no longer a distinction between the higher and the lower parts. This is a philosophy of a common man as contrasted with a philosophy of a noble man which one can find in Aristotle or in Ortega y Gasset. Commonness means that no higher aspirations are inscribed into human nature; if such aspirations characterize some people, it is a matter of contingency, not a necessary criterion of humanity. The problem of commonness thus understood is that it leads to conformity and uniformity. Tocqueville was one of the first in modern times to have noticed it: see his description of the democratic man. Commonness in turn usually generates narrowness of the perspective. And the narrowness of the perspective entails self-satisfaction which precludes taking any other external factor into account and consulting any other tribunal but one’s own. Communism and liberal democracy, in other words, were the systems of the common man. This does not contradict the hubristic propensities of the two systems. The common man may be as hubristic as a tyrant especially when he believes that he lives in the best of political systems and that this system, not anything else, is the highest authority of what is right and what is wrong.

The final question – what is to be done, and how to change the system which seems to have all the instruments for self-improvement but which makes all of them inefficient – was not addressed in the book because I do not think it is an interesting question for a historian of philosophy like myself. It is far more interesting for a politician like myself. As a historian of philosophy, I can say, very generally, that if one is dissatisfied with what I called the liberal democratic mental world, should start by challenging the four assumptions just described. To make a political change is much more difficult. I cannot talk about it now because my time is up. Anyway, this is a different subject for a different occasion when I may be more voluble. And on this note of suspense, I rest my case.

Luigi Sturzo and the Limits of Politics

By Flavio Felice, Full Professor of History of Political Thought at the University of Molise and President of Centro Studi Tocqueville-Acton

Luigi Sturzo was born in Caltagirone on November 26 1871. In 1894 he was ordained a priest of the Catholic Church. He later moved to Rome, where in 1898 he graduated with a degree in philosophy from the Gregorian University.

Returning to Caltagirone, his religious and social commitment began to take shape alongside his teaching of philosophy. He founded a diocesan committee, opened committees of workers and of farmers, created a rural bank to combat usury, and began a newspaper, “The Cross of Constantine,” to spread the ideas of Rerum Novarum.

On January 18, 1919 he pursued what appeared to be, in Italian politics, a project even more significant than the unification of Italy. With “An Appeal to Free and Strong Men,” Sturzo launched the Popular Party.

The experience of Sturzo’s popularism was an attempt to conceive a coherent social order guided by the teachings of the Social Doctrine of the Church, a political and economic order inspired by a Christian personalism that searches for answers to the concrete problems of human beings. The characteristic feature of Sturzo’s appeal is the belief that—over the dirigiste, centralized, and monopolist processes of the State—a competitive system that takes account of the contingencies and limitations that characterize the physical and moral constitution of the person is much to be preferred. It envisioned a new order at the center of which, in tune with the principles of subsidiarity and solidarity, is placed the spontaneous and creative work of civil society, an order able to increase the range of choices for individuals and associations.

In April 1923, during the National Congress of Turin of the Popular Party, Sturzo denounced Mussolini and fascism. Mussolini from that time identified him as the “main enemy of fascism.” Mussolini would go on to speak with Cardinal Gasparri to force Don Sturzo first to resign from the party and then to abandon Italy. The exile of Sturzo would last 22 years. He lived in London until September 1940 and then in the United States until September 5, 1946, whereupon he returned to Italy. His most important works on political and sociological theory came to light during the period of his exile. While in London, he supported various Italian political groups that had escaped, and in 1936 he founded the “People and Freedom Group”.

Resettled in Italy, Sturzo undertook his last battle, one for a constitution more inspired by freedom, at once secular but respectful of Christian inspiration in its basic components. Sturzo defended and promoted an articulation of social-economic matters that recognized the primacy of the person and the fundamental role of civil societies: the family and free-associative bodies, including political parties, trade unions, and the Church. He engaged in the promotion of freedom of education and educational choice, and in the defense of private property, savings, free enterprise, and the participation of the worker in corporate capital.

These activities led him to produce writings of great theoretical and political impact which butted against the so-called “three evil beasts of democracy”. In the economic sphere, Sturzo’s critique focused on the undue intrusiveness of the state and bureaucracy into a private initiative. Here, we find his concern with the first of the three “evil beasts” of democracy: “statism,” which he alleged went against freedom.

In the political sphere, Sturzo complained of the established practice of “partisanship,” the second of the three “evil beasts,” which, for our author, went against the principle of equality. He used the Italian word “partitocrazia,” which in English would be ‘party-cracy’. By this term, Sturzo meant the irresponsible interference of political parties and trade unions in the functions of a legislature.

What we have said so far in regard to the economic and political fields, may be extended also to ethics and the right use of public money. In this context, as a result of particracy and statism, Sturzo sees the jaws of the third “evil beast”: the “waste of public money” that would prevent the pursuit of justice. Particracy and statism, through the misuse of public money, strip the body politic of any sense of responsibility and empties human action of any ethical meaning. (Sturzo, 1998, 298-299)

In December 1952 Sturzo was appointed a senator for life by the President of the Republic, Luigi Einaudi. He died on August 8, 1959 in Rome. He left behind a legacy rich as much for his development of political theory as for his vision of political action understood as a high form of Christian charity: “Politics is a civic duty, an act of love of neighbor.”

According to the opinion of Professors Russel Hittinger and Joseph Komonchak, and Sturzo influenced Fr. John Courtney Murray, one of the main drafters of the declaration Dignatatis Humanae of the Second Vatican Council.

Murray tells us that the pursuit of the common good is an activity inherent in society as a whole and all its institutions, according to the principles of subsidiarity and justice. In short, the concept of “common good” should be distinguished from that of “public order,” as a result of the distinction between “society” and “state.” As held by Hittinger (in his essay Introduction to Modern Catholicism, Columbia University Press, 2007), and Komonchak (in his essay Religious Freedom and the Confessional State. The Twentieth Century Debate, in “Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique”, 95, (2000)), Murray, influenced in particular by Sturzo’s work Church and State (already translated into English in 1939), shows why the “Church-State” dispute was irreducible to a monistic field. That is, it cannot be reduced to the subordination of society to a single, undifferentiated citizenship, lived under the state’s authority and presence in every sphere.

A reading of Murray’s and Sturzo’s works brings out a subsidiary and polyarchycal socio-political paradigm, a paradigm irreconcilable with the statist or corporatist solution. By contrast, it postulates the non-hierarchical plurality of institutions and social powers, irreducible solely to the concept of government while open to that of governance—institutions created by men for other men, and, thus, contingent, historically determined, and independent.

Furthermore, Murray, in an exceptional convergence with Sturzo’s position, comes to define the state as “an order within society: the order of public law and policy administration.” Rather than viewing the state as a hierarchically higher entity, he insists that the task of civil authorities would be to perform some limited functions for the benefit of society. Ultimately, says Murray, “‘society’ means an area of freedom […], while ‘state’ means the area in which the civil authorities can legally exercise their coercive powers. To deny this distinction means accepting the concept of totalitarian government.”

The lesson from intellectuals like Sturzo and Murray allows us to awaken, or to arouse further, interest in the relationship between religion and economic and political institutions, as well as to understand in an even deeper way Pope Francis’ words, when, in his first encyclical Lumen fidei, he shows how the light of faith does not found the city of God on earth, but, rather, it offers a Christian perspective on the institutions that men will be able to build for themselves and for other people, in a ceaseless work of reform.

Why Can’t a Feminist Be Pro-Life?

When a pro-life feminist group was removed as a sponsor of the Women’s March on Washington this past January, a national conversation began on whether an inclusive feminist movement can involve people with pro-life views. IHE hosted the panel discussion “Why Can’t a Feminist Be Pro-Life?” on Monday, April 10.

In the News

• April 15, Catholic News Service: Both sides on abortion debate ponder if pro-lifers can also be feminists Read More…
• April 18, Aleteia: The feminist label: Restrictions apply Read More…
• April 18, Human Life International’s Truth and Charity Forum: How abortion divides the feminist movement Read More…
• April 22, Catholic News Agency: Feminists and pro-lifers can join forces Read More…

Click below to watch the video of the fascinating discussion which explored the question of the compatibility of pro-life and feminist views as well as the philosophical and cultural underpinnings of both movements. See pictures of the event on our Facebook page.


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