Back at my parents' house for the holidays and thus (re)connected.
What have I missed in my time away? Let's see... there's a lot, so today I'll give a quick rundown/update on three issues I've been concerned with over the past few months.
* the Ugandan anti-homosexuality bill: Last I wrote, as I recall, I reported that Rick Warren had finally relented and released a pastoral encyclical urging Ugandan Christians to resist this bill. Warren Throckmorton's website (one of the best go-to sources of info on this) reported on a letter written by Ugandan pastor Martin Ssempa (co-signed by a number of other Ugandan Christian groups) ardently defending this bill. Versions of the letter appear here (from Christianity Today) and here (on Ssempa's website). Seempa protests that the main concern involves--well, the letter claims a number of claims: the abuse of minors by homosexual predators, the spread of AIDS/HIV, the creeping influence of homosexual lobbies internationally and in Uganda specifically.
Throckmorton notes that the letter completely ignores Warren's (and others') theological arguments against the bill. He also takes apart much of the evidence the letter links to in order to support its reasoning--not that his arguments (or those of the commentators to his blog posting) seem to matter much. If anything, the pastors' letter suggests to me a level of leave-us-alone intransigence on the part of the pro-bill Ugandan Christians. The relationship of Ugandan evangelicals to their western counterparts is in many ways growing more strained, and this situation is evidence of it. For a detailed overview of the relationship between Ugandan Christianity and US Christianity, see this article by Kapya Kaoma, which itself may deserve a post from me.
* The War on Christmas. Basically, the only new info here is more arguments pro- and anti- War. For example, Matt Barber, pundit-attorney for the Liberty Council, warns us that "the next time you hear someone say 'Happy Holidays,' remember that what they're actually saying – perhaps innocently enough – is 'Happy Holidays, Comrade.' They're playing right into the secularist agenda that seeks to replace the God of the universe with the god of government." His proof? Apparently the Soviet Union at one time discouraged recognition of Christmas. So obviously people's saying "happy holidays" in 2009 US and the USSR's anti-Christmas actions from the past only seem utterly incomparable.
Other Christian writers express impatience at the idea of a Christmas War (declared, it seems, by those who ostensibly want to defend Christmas). See Edward Grinnan's guest stint on the Washington Post's "On Faith" blog. See also this guest post on Michael Spencer's Internet Monk site. Both point out that fighting a Christmas War defeats the ethos of the season. Christmas Warriors are keen on making dire predictions about the awful world that will doubtless come should Christians lose the war. But what exactly would "winning" this War on Christmas look like? What or who would be defeated? Would Christians be happier if the government were to ban other holidays that occur around the end of the year?
* Health Care. This whole subject gets covered so extensively on other areas of the interwebs that I leave it up to you to investigate. Suffice it to say that it looks like a version of the health care plan will indeed be passed in the Senate before Christmas. I am personally for many of the provisions in the bill (i.e., eradicating lifetime caps on coverage, extending coverage to the uninsured, removing pre-existing conditions as a bar to coverage, etc.) though I would have been more pleased with some form of public option.
I continue to be depressed by the widespread resistance to this bill--well, not just this bill but to any health care reform whatsoever. Republican intransigence (there's that word again) to seemingly any kind of legislation whatsoever puts the lie to their insistence that they have the best interests of people at heart.
More distressing, however, is the fact that this resistance has come to be a signal issue for many on the religious right. I find utterly lacking any recognition that, in fact, many people are suffering due to lack of health care in this country, and that fixing this problem is worth the investment of some tax dollars. I get frustrated that the debate thus far seems primarily about money: support the bill to reduce deficits and cut costs or resist the bill because it will increase taxes. Both of these broad arguments pass over the deeper question of what the right thing to do is. Is it right for people to suffer and die because they can't afford adequate care? Is health care a right or a privilege?
I would think that the Christian answer to these questions is obvious. But religious right arguments against health care reform either ignore the questions altogether or--worse--suggest that the poor and/or underprivileged deserve their fate and that the better-off have to watch out for their own stuff.
Anyway--that's all for now. More tomorrow,
JF
Showing posts with label Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Bill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Bill. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Warren Speaks Out
Quick post today.
Well--here's a change. Rick Warren has apparently been convinced that his reticence to speak out against the proposed Ugandan bill is not the best course of action. He has released this video, which he describes as an "encyclical," aimed at the pastors of Uganda. There he unambiguously denounces any criminalization of homosexuality, particularly that which would result in executions.
I note only that, by addressing pastors in Uganda and not the Ugandan government, Warren technically stays true to his nuanced (and I do not use that term disparagingly) understanding of the role of pastors as distinct from those of politicians.
Who knows? Perhaps his strong statement may have some effect on the debate in Uganda. Some news media report that already (i.e., before Warren's video) revisions to the bill include removing the execution and long prison term penalties in favor of more "refined" punishments (not sure what that means). The bill, according to the report, will also include sections about the need for counseling in order to (in the quoted words of Uganda's Minster of Ethics and Integrity James Nsaba Buturo) "attract errant people to acceptable sexual orientation."
This could complicate things, making it trickier for US-based ex-gay ministries (and people like Warren) to speak as strongly against the bill. Ostensibly, Exodus et al. oppose coercive treatment/therapy. I would hope that they clarify this in their public commentary on the bill. The relief at having the death penalty removed--while palpable--ought not eclipse critical attention to whatever "refined" punishments the new iteration of the bill cooks up.
Warren himself makes no mention of therapy or ex-gay ministries in his message to Ugandan pastors.
More tomorrow,
JF
Well--here's a change. Rick Warren has apparently been convinced that his reticence to speak out against the proposed Ugandan bill is not the best course of action. He has released this video, which he describes as an "encyclical," aimed at the pastors of Uganda. There he unambiguously denounces any criminalization of homosexuality, particularly that which would result in executions.
I note only that, by addressing pastors in Uganda and not the Ugandan government, Warren technically stays true to his nuanced (and I do not use that term disparagingly) understanding of the role of pastors as distinct from those of politicians.
Who knows? Perhaps his strong statement may have some effect on the debate in Uganda. Some news media report that already (i.e., before Warren's video) revisions to the bill include removing the execution and long prison term penalties in favor of more "refined" punishments (not sure what that means). The bill, according to the report, will also include sections about the need for counseling in order to (in the quoted words of Uganda's Minster of Ethics and Integrity James Nsaba Buturo) "attract errant people to acceptable sexual orientation."
This could complicate things, making it trickier for US-based ex-gay ministries (and people like Warren) to speak as strongly against the bill. Ostensibly, Exodus et al. oppose coercive treatment/therapy. I would hope that they clarify this in their public commentary on the bill. The relief at having the death penalty removed--while palpable--ought not eclipse critical attention to whatever "refined" punishments the new iteration of the bill cooks up.
Warren himself makes no mention of therapy or ex-gay ministries in his message to Ugandan pastors.
More tomorrow,
JF
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
"Blood on Your Hands"? Richard Cohen and the Uganda Bill
Finals, finals, finals. Grading, grading, grading.
Let me pause on Rick Warren for a bit. There's more news on the ever-changing story about the proposed anti-gay Ugandan legislation and US ex-gay ministries' influence on it.
In particular, there's this interview between Rachael Maddow and Richard Cohen, a representative of the "International Healing Foundation" who sent a representative to Uganda to discuss the causes of homosexuality (from Cohen's perspective). Cohen's arguments were subsequently among those cited by the bill's supporters as proof that homosexuality can be cured, is not innate, etc.
I re-post the interview here:
(Transcript here). Some quick observations:
I don't watch a lot of cable news talk shows, primarily because they usually involve lots of yelling, posturing, and very little substantive, careful debate. Given those low expectations, I was pleased to see Maddow treat Cohen with a bit more respect, giving him time to explain himself.
That being said, however, I'm not convinced the interview is the rhetorical slam-dunk that other progressive commentators appear to think it is. Certainly the interview featured some "slam dunk" moments. Maddow confronted Cohen with several key quotes from two of his books and one of his newsletters--some of which he seemed surprised by (e.g., "race" as a possible factor contributing to same-sex attraction) and some of which he ignored (e.g., his multiple suggestions that homosexuals represent malign, threatening forces in culture; his use of research by the thoroughly discredited Paul Cameron). In these instances, Cohen's insistence that his work does nothing to fuel intolerance of homosexuals at home and abroad comes under some strain.
But Maddow herself engages in some less-than-fair argumentative tactics that unfortunately give some credence to ex-gay complaints that their work gets misrepresented by the liberal press. She quotes, for example, a passage from one of Cohen's books in which he suggests a number of general factors that (he argues) may contribute to developing same-sex attractions, including "[d]ivorce, death of a parent, adoption, religion, race." Cohen interrupts to dispute whether race is in there. Maddow shows him that it is, creating one of the evening's "slam dunk" moments.
Maddow expresses disbelief about the idea that, as she puts it, "divorce makes you gay." Cohen interrupts to insist that she's taking his words out of context. "No, I'm reading it from your book, dude," she says. Now--a petty point, perhaps, but as any first-year composition student should know, "in context" means something greater than just "from the book." Cohen insists that she read the rest of the passage, where he clarifies that homosexuality (in his view) is multicausal. Maddow does so, and as it turns out, the passage she quotes comes at the very end of a long and fairly detailed list. The context does in fact problematize a portrayal of his argument as "divorce causes gayness."
That exchange would actually count as a "slam dunk" in Cohen's favor; at the very least, it demonstrates that in this instance Maddow was straw-manning his argument. It's at this point that Maddow refocuses on the race issue--which Cohen appears ill at ease with--pushing Cohen finally to concede that race is not in fact an influence on same-sex attraction.
Cohen and Maddow also disagree about the "cure" issue. Maddow portrays Cohen as claiming that homosexuality is a choice and that gays can be cured. Cohen strenuously disagrees with this representation, saying that he never claims that homosexuality is a choice and that he never uses "cure" as a term to describe therapy. Maddow dismisses this clarification, citing the "change is possible" mantra he often invokes. To suggest that "change" and "cure" aren't the same, she says, is "semantics."
Yes and no. Yes, in that it's a semantic difference, but no if by calling the difference semantic she means that the difference is meaningless (semantic differences rarely are). Ex-gay ministries by and large are careful to qualify a range of meanings for change. Change might be a lessening or transformation of same-sex attractions, but it might also mean a simple re-prioritizing of one's life. I'm not saying I agree with this logic, but I have to recognize that it exists, that for ex-gays change does not mean cure.
By far the most serious disagreement between them, however, is the allegation by Maddow that Cohen has blood on his hands, that because some of the Ugandan bill's supporters cite Cohen's material, Cohen himself bears some responsibility for the bill.
As repellent as I find many of Cohen's arguments, Maddow's blood-on-your-hands argument is a non-starter.
On one level, there's the simple fact that Cohen himself speaks out repeatedly and unambiguously against the Ugandan bill, saying again and again that imprisoning and executing homosexuals is utterly opposed to his theories, which cite a lack of appropriate love as the main factor in creating same-sex attractions. He insists--and Maddow has no evidence to the contrary--that the speaker they sent to Uganda said nothing at all about imprisoning gay people, nor did any of the US ex-gay speakers have any inkling that Uganda was going to come out with this draconian legislation. As Cohen points out, Uganda has had anti-homosexuality legislation on the books since the 1950s; its government needed no help in becoming intolerant.
In fact, Cohen's ex-gay arguments--i.e. gays are people suffering from a developmental deficit and in need of understanding, not condemnation--represent a weird kind of step in the right direction. As Randy Thomas of Exodus, International, has argued, Ugandan conservatives sponsoring this bill are more likely to listen to arguments against this bill coming from ex-gays like Cohen than from liberals like Maddow.
On another, more basic level, though, the "blood on your hands" allegation wrongly suggests that authors have absolute responsibility for how their readers interpret and apply their words. Now, obviously, if Cohen had called for the criminalization of homosexuality or if he had outlined a program similar to Uganda's proposed legislation, then he might have some explaining to do. But, as he tries to point out, Cohen makes no such argument; indeed, a fair reading of his arguments--homosexuals are in need of love and understanding--militates against precisely the attitude the bill's supporters represent (i.e., "kill the gays").
In other words--the Ugandan bill's supporters are misinterpreting Cohen's work, using it selectively to support a stance that Cohen himself does not endorse. It is simply beyond his control if people misuse his work so.
It is true that Cohen, like other ex-gay groups and spokespeople, undercuts his message of understanding and love by coupling it with more standard religious-right rhetoric about the threat of the "gay lobby" or the "gay agenda." Maddow scores a definite hit when she castigates Cohen for using discredited (read: fabricated) research by Paul Cameron about gays being more prone to pedophilia than heterosexuals (Cohen insists he will excise the latter sections from the next edition of his book). These arguments certainly do not do anything to militate against fearmongering and hatemongering against gay people in Uganda. But neither are they explicit calls to pass laws such as the proposed bill.
As a matter of free speech, people are allowed to express strong, unpopular, even intolerant sentiments--even though those expressions might inspire a listener or reader to act violently on the basis of those acts. One person's statement does not equate to another person's action. Maddow herself has a reputation for making what some might consider provocative statements. Suppose, for instance, some deranged person were to take utterly literally Maddow's charge that Cohen has blood on his hands, using that allegation as a pretext to murder Cohen in retaliation. Would Maddow then be responsible for the murderer's actions? Would she have blood on her hands?
Why am I harping on this? I don't like Cohen's arguments. I don't support his take on homosexuality. I think it's important that people recognize (as Maddow stated) that Cohen's psychological and counseling credentials are not recognized by any major credentialing body. Why bother to defend him at all?
Because, frankly, there are people in this country who do explicitly argue that gay people should be imprisoned and put to death. Extremists like that exist. Cohen--while certainly non-progressive—is not one of these extremists. He's not even in the same ballpark. It’s unethical and plain sloppy argumentation to classify Cohen and other ex-gays as no different, really, from Fred "God Hates Fags" Phelps or a KKK vigilante or—yes—some supporter of a bill to execute gays. Doing so betrays a lack of ability (or gumption, or both) to imagine what makes non-progressives tick. It takes a whole swath of people who for whatever reason aren't comfortable with the idea of same-sex love and turns them all into the same species of irrational, immoral bigot--little Phelpses to be feared or dismissed.
If we as progressives ever hope to alter those people's discomfort (change is possible!), we at least need to do them the basic favor of listening carefully to what they are saying rather than lumping them all into one big category of "hater."
More tomorrow,
JF
Let me pause on Rick Warren for a bit. There's more news on the ever-changing story about the proposed anti-gay Ugandan legislation and US ex-gay ministries' influence on it.
In particular, there's this interview between Rachael Maddow and Richard Cohen, a representative of the "International Healing Foundation" who sent a representative to Uganda to discuss the causes of homosexuality (from Cohen's perspective). Cohen's arguments were subsequently among those cited by the bill's supporters as proof that homosexuality can be cured, is not innate, etc.
I re-post the interview here:
Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy
(Transcript here). Some quick observations:
I don't watch a lot of cable news talk shows, primarily because they usually involve lots of yelling, posturing, and very little substantive, careful debate. Given those low expectations, I was pleased to see Maddow treat Cohen with a bit more respect, giving him time to explain himself.
That being said, however, I'm not convinced the interview is the rhetorical slam-dunk that other progressive commentators appear to think it is. Certainly the interview featured some "slam dunk" moments. Maddow confronted Cohen with several key quotes from two of his books and one of his newsletters--some of which he seemed surprised by (e.g., "race" as a possible factor contributing to same-sex attraction) and some of which he ignored (e.g., his multiple suggestions that homosexuals represent malign, threatening forces in culture; his use of research by the thoroughly discredited Paul Cameron). In these instances, Cohen's insistence that his work does nothing to fuel intolerance of homosexuals at home and abroad comes under some strain.
But Maddow herself engages in some less-than-fair argumentative tactics that unfortunately give some credence to ex-gay complaints that their work gets misrepresented by the liberal press. She quotes, for example, a passage from one of Cohen's books in which he suggests a number of general factors that (he argues) may contribute to developing same-sex attractions, including "[d]ivorce, death of a parent, adoption, religion, race." Cohen interrupts to dispute whether race is in there. Maddow shows him that it is, creating one of the evening's "slam dunk" moments.
Maddow expresses disbelief about the idea that, as she puts it, "divorce makes you gay." Cohen interrupts to insist that she's taking his words out of context. "No, I'm reading it from your book, dude," she says. Now--a petty point, perhaps, but as any first-year composition student should know, "in context" means something greater than just "from the book." Cohen insists that she read the rest of the passage, where he clarifies that homosexuality (in his view) is multicausal. Maddow does so, and as it turns out, the passage she quotes comes at the very end of a long and fairly detailed list. The context does in fact problematize a portrayal of his argument as "divorce causes gayness."
That exchange would actually count as a "slam dunk" in Cohen's favor; at the very least, it demonstrates that in this instance Maddow was straw-manning his argument. It's at this point that Maddow refocuses on the race issue--which Cohen appears ill at ease with--pushing Cohen finally to concede that race is not in fact an influence on same-sex attraction.
Cohen and Maddow also disagree about the "cure" issue. Maddow portrays Cohen as claiming that homosexuality is a choice and that gays can be cured. Cohen strenuously disagrees with this representation, saying that he never claims that homosexuality is a choice and that he never uses "cure" as a term to describe therapy. Maddow dismisses this clarification, citing the "change is possible" mantra he often invokes. To suggest that "change" and "cure" aren't the same, she says, is "semantics."
Yes and no. Yes, in that it's a semantic difference, but no if by calling the difference semantic she means that the difference is meaningless (semantic differences rarely are). Ex-gay ministries by and large are careful to qualify a range of meanings for change. Change might be a lessening or transformation of same-sex attractions, but it might also mean a simple re-prioritizing of one's life. I'm not saying I agree with this logic, but I have to recognize that it exists, that for ex-gays change does not mean cure.
By far the most serious disagreement between them, however, is the allegation by Maddow that Cohen has blood on his hands, that because some of the Ugandan bill's supporters cite Cohen's material, Cohen himself bears some responsibility for the bill.
As repellent as I find many of Cohen's arguments, Maddow's blood-on-your-hands argument is a non-starter.
On one level, there's the simple fact that Cohen himself speaks out repeatedly and unambiguously against the Ugandan bill, saying again and again that imprisoning and executing homosexuals is utterly opposed to his theories, which cite a lack of appropriate love as the main factor in creating same-sex attractions. He insists--and Maddow has no evidence to the contrary--that the speaker they sent to Uganda said nothing at all about imprisoning gay people, nor did any of the US ex-gay speakers have any inkling that Uganda was going to come out with this draconian legislation. As Cohen points out, Uganda has had anti-homosexuality legislation on the books since the 1950s; its government needed no help in becoming intolerant.
In fact, Cohen's ex-gay arguments--i.e. gays are people suffering from a developmental deficit and in need of understanding, not condemnation--represent a weird kind of step in the right direction. As Randy Thomas of Exodus, International, has argued, Ugandan conservatives sponsoring this bill are more likely to listen to arguments against this bill coming from ex-gays like Cohen than from liberals like Maddow.
On another, more basic level, though, the "blood on your hands" allegation wrongly suggests that authors have absolute responsibility for how their readers interpret and apply their words. Now, obviously, if Cohen had called for the criminalization of homosexuality or if he had outlined a program similar to Uganda's proposed legislation, then he might have some explaining to do. But, as he tries to point out, Cohen makes no such argument; indeed, a fair reading of his arguments--homosexuals are in need of love and understanding--militates against precisely the attitude the bill's supporters represent (i.e., "kill the gays").
In other words--the Ugandan bill's supporters are misinterpreting Cohen's work, using it selectively to support a stance that Cohen himself does not endorse. It is simply beyond his control if people misuse his work so.
It is true that Cohen, like other ex-gay groups and spokespeople, undercuts his message of understanding and love by coupling it with more standard religious-right rhetoric about the threat of the "gay lobby" or the "gay agenda." Maddow scores a definite hit when she castigates Cohen for using discredited (read: fabricated) research by Paul Cameron about gays being more prone to pedophilia than heterosexuals (Cohen insists he will excise the latter sections from the next edition of his book). These arguments certainly do not do anything to militate against fearmongering and hatemongering against gay people in Uganda. But neither are they explicit calls to pass laws such as the proposed bill.
As a matter of free speech, people are allowed to express strong, unpopular, even intolerant sentiments--even though those expressions might inspire a listener or reader to act violently on the basis of those acts. One person's statement does not equate to another person's action. Maddow herself has a reputation for making what some might consider provocative statements. Suppose, for instance, some deranged person were to take utterly literally Maddow's charge that Cohen has blood on his hands, using that allegation as a pretext to murder Cohen in retaliation. Would Maddow then be responsible for the murderer's actions? Would she have blood on her hands?
Why am I harping on this? I don't like Cohen's arguments. I don't support his take on homosexuality. I think it's important that people recognize (as Maddow stated) that Cohen's psychological and counseling credentials are not recognized by any major credentialing body. Why bother to defend him at all?
Because, frankly, there are people in this country who do explicitly argue that gay people should be imprisoned and put to death. Extremists like that exist. Cohen--while certainly non-progressive—is not one of these extremists. He's not even in the same ballpark. It’s unethical and plain sloppy argumentation to classify Cohen and other ex-gays as no different, really, from Fred "God Hates Fags" Phelps or a KKK vigilante or—yes—some supporter of a bill to execute gays. Doing so betrays a lack of ability (or gumption, or both) to imagine what makes non-progressives tick. It takes a whole swath of people who for whatever reason aren't comfortable with the idea of same-sex love and turns them all into the same species of irrational, immoral bigot--little Phelpses to be feared or dismissed.
If we as progressives ever hope to alter those people's discomfort (change is possible!), we at least need to do them the basic favor of listening carefully to what they are saying rather than lumping them all into one big category of "hater."
More tomorrow,
JF
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Clarifying Warren's Stance re: Uganda
I need to make a couple of corrections to statements I made yesterday regarding Rick Warren and the Ugandan anti-homosexuality bill. A story on Newsweek's website quoted him from two different contexts, one related directly to his stance on the bill itself and one (from Meet the Press) on an entirely different subject. The article noted that the two quotes came from different contexts; I overlooked that clarification in quoting him.
To be clear: the quote from Warren about Uganda is as follows:
That being said, placed side-by-side as they were in the article, the two quotes appear to be speaking about the same subject, giving the impression that Warren advocates a general stance of neutrality--at least on issues of homosexuality. The subtle suggestion in the article (which notes that Warren calls abortion "a holocaust") is that Warren's neutrality is selective and a shade disingenuous. I reacted strongly to this yesterday, wondering how a pastor like Warren could so advocate a stand-offish position.
Having checked the Meet the Press interview myself (transcript only here), I now think the Newsweek article misrepresented Warren's position--or at the very least that I got an incorrect impression of Warren's views from this article (which has been widely linked on gay religious-right watchdog sites).
In the Meet the Press interview, Warren is speaking broadly about his transition from the pastor of a single church (Saddleback) to being a national spokesperson whose opinions on a range of issues is regularly sought. The interviewer, David Gregory, presses Warren on a number of specific issues, from Proposition 8 to abortion to health care. In most cases, Warren acknowledges his (conservative evangelical) beliefs while declining to occupy the role of culture war pundit.
He expresses regret, for instance, about making a video for his church in which he elaborated on his views about gay marriage during the Prop 8 debate. Indeed, Gregory notes that Warren has been quite active on AIDS issues. He asks Warren if working with AIDS patients has caused Warren to think differently about homosexuality. A full quote of Warren's response here is appropriate:
I would like to think this quote similarly contextualizes Warren's views about the proposed Ugandan bill. From what I know of Warren's convictions, he himself, personally, would be against this bill. But in his public statements, Warren maintains a separation of church and state. It is not appropriate, in his view, for him to express an opinion as a pastor on a matter of internal Ugandan politics.
I'm not sure I agree with this stance, particularly on this issue, particularly as other Christian groups and leaders have decided that vocal resistance to this bill is appropriate. I respect, however, the fact that his stance is more complex than it has been portrayed of late, and I regret that I joined in the chorus of condemnatory voices prior to having a fuller context.
More tomorrow,
JF
To be clear: the quote from Warren about Uganda is as follows:
"The fundamental dignity of every person, our right to be free, and the freedom to make moral choices are gifts endowed by God, our creator. However, it is not my personal calling as a pastor in America to comment or interfere in the political process of other nations."The Newsweek article followed that quote with another, taken from Meet the Press:
"As a pastor, my job is to encourage, to support. I never take sides."Now, the article mentioned that in the latter quote Warren expressed a preference for a neutral stance "in a different context." I should have looked before I quoted. Mea culpa.
That being said, placed side-by-side as they were in the article, the two quotes appear to be speaking about the same subject, giving the impression that Warren advocates a general stance of neutrality--at least on issues of homosexuality. The subtle suggestion in the article (which notes that Warren calls abortion "a holocaust") is that Warren's neutrality is selective and a shade disingenuous. I reacted strongly to this yesterday, wondering how a pastor like Warren could so advocate a stand-offish position.
Having checked the Meet the Press interview myself (transcript only here), I now think the Newsweek article misrepresented Warren's position--or at the very least that I got an incorrect impression of Warren's views from this article (which has been widely linked on gay religious-right watchdog sites).
In the Meet the Press interview, Warren is speaking broadly about his transition from the pastor of a single church (Saddleback) to being a national spokesperson whose opinions on a range of issues is regularly sought. The interviewer, David Gregory, presses Warren on a number of specific issues, from Proposition 8 to abortion to health care. In most cases, Warren acknowledges his (conservative evangelical) beliefs while declining to occupy the role of culture war pundit.
He expresses regret, for instance, about making a video for his church in which he elaborated on his views about gay marriage during the Prop 8 debate. Indeed, Gregory notes that Warren has been quite active on AIDS issues. He asks Warren if working with AIDS patients has caused Warren to think differently about homosexuality. A full quote of Warren's response here is appropriate:
This passage more accurately contextualizes the second quote repeated in the Newsweek article, reflecting not a laissez-faire neutrality about political things but a nuanced view about the separate roles of church and state, pastor and politician.
Oh, oh, absolutely, much more sympathetic and understanding the pains and the reactions. I, I have understood that so many people today get stigmatized for different things. Now, of course, I have biblical beliefs on--about homosexuality. But when somebody's dying on the side of the road, you don't walk up to them and say, you know, "What's your nationality?" or, "What's your lifestyle?" or, "What's your, your gender preference?" or, you know, anything else. You just help the guy. And this is the, by the way, the difference--I was asked the other day about illegal immigration, things like that. The role of a pastor and the role of the government are different things. My role is to love everybody. I am called to love everybody. In fact, the Bible says love your enemies. I am forbidden to hate anyone, OK? So I can't--I am to love everybody. And if someone's hurting, I don't walk up and say, "Are you illegally here?" I just want to hurt--help the person. But the government does have a right to decide who's in and who's out and things like that.
I would like to think this quote similarly contextualizes Warren's views about the proposed Ugandan bill. From what I know of Warren's convictions, he himself, personally, would be against this bill. But in his public statements, Warren maintains a separation of church and state. It is not appropriate, in his view, for him to express an opinion as a pastor on a matter of internal Ugandan politics.
I'm not sure I agree with this stance, particularly on this issue, particularly as other Christian groups and leaders have decided that vocal resistance to this bill is appropriate. I respect, however, the fact that his stance is more complex than it has been portrayed of late, and I regret that I joined in the chorus of condemnatory voices prior to having a fuller context.
More tomorrow,
JF
Monday, December 7, 2009
Ugandan Bill: Warren Takes No Sides
Finals week=quick post today (I know, I said that yesterday, but...).
Major news entities are joining discussions and reactions to the proposed Ugandan "Bahati" Bill that would sharpen prohibitions against and punishments for homosexual behavior and related acts (e.g., the death penalty or life imprisonment for gay people, hard labor for those "aiding and abetting" homosexuals). I am pleased that my denomination has (finally) come out formally against the bill. So too has an Anglican canon in Uganda.
In odd contrast to these, evangelical super-pastor Rick Warren (The Purpose-Driven Church, Saddleback Church) has come out resolutely as not being against the bill. Warren had initially (back in October) distanced himself from the bill and some of its main pastoral supporters in Uganda with whom he and Saddleback had previously worked. Of late, though, Warren has taken a stance of no-comment on the politics of a foreign nation. He has refused repeated invitations to condemn the bill, most recently stating on Meet the Press that "As a pastor, my job is to encourage, to support. I never take sides." Update: This quote is taken from a context unrelated to the Uganda issue. See here.
I'm going to need to do a bit more investigating there because that just doesn't sound right. Generally counted among the most popular evangelicals in the US today, Warren occupies an odd place in the evangelical spectrum. While his book The Purpose-Driven Life made the best-seller lists, it's his model of "seeker-sensitive" or "new paradigm" church (outlined in The Purpose-Driven Church) that really won him fame.
In seeker-sensitive churches like Saddleback (Bill Hybels's Willow Creek Church in Chicago being the other main example), the main Sunday services aim explicitly at the non-churchgoer, whose likes and dislikes have been market-researched and focus-group tested by worship leaders. Using this data, church leaders re-create the service to appeal to "Unchurched Harry" (or "Saddleback Sam")--the generic niche consumer of church services. There's lots of music, multimedia, high energy, inspiring messages, and easygoing atmosphere. Conspicuously absent are high-church symbols like crosses, altars, pews, hymnals, offering plates, etc.
As Warren explains, the "seeker-sensitive" service is not actually the "true" worship service. It's bait, lure to attract people into membership. Once people actually join, they are expected to participate actively in the life of the church, typically through small-group "cells" that re-create in miniature the community atmosphere otherwise impossible in a church of 10,000+. Members have their own (authentic) worship service later in the week.
Warren's unorthodox approach extends to his inter-denominational politics. Saddleback is broadly evangelical and nondenominational, but Warren has distinguished himself as more willing than most other evangelical leaders to reach out to non-evangelical groups, especially on issues such as environmentalism. For many evangelicals, then, Warren is a traitor, a dangerously popular charlatan peddling a watered-down gospel. For others, he represents the next wave of evangelical leaders--doctrinally committed but willing to reach out. His influence, in any case, is not in question. He was, after all, the one who interviewed both presidential candidates about their faith and values in the last debate.
All of this makes his "I take no stand" rhetoric difficult. Warren has not been so coy about taking a stand on other issues in the past, though certainly he has largely steered clear of formal alignments with religious-right standards like Focus on the Family.
I'm sure I'm not alone here, though, in finding his newly stated neutrality in all things political... odd. Even un-pastoral.
More tomorrow,
JF
Major news entities are joining discussions and reactions to the proposed Ugandan "Bahati" Bill that would sharpen prohibitions against and punishments for homosexual behavior and related acts (e.g., the death penalty or life imprisonment for gay people, hard labor for those "aiding and abetting" homosexuals). I am pleased that my denomination has (finally) come out formally against the bill. So too has an Anglican canon in Uganda.
In odd contrast to these, evangelical super-pastor Rick Warren (The Purpose-Driven Church, Saddleback Church) has come out resolutely as not being against the bill. Warren had initially (back in October) distanced himself from the bill and some of its main pastoral supporters in Uganda with whom he and Saddleback had previously worked. Of late, though, Warren has taken a stance of no-comment on the politics of a foreign nation. He has refused repeated invitations to condemn the bill, most recently stating on Meet the Press that "As a pastor, my job is to encourage, to support. I never take sides." Update: This quote is taken from a context unrelated to the Uganda issue. See here.
I'm going to need to do a bit more investigating there because that just doesn't sound right. Generally counted among the most popular evangelicals in the US today, Warren occupies an odd place in the evangelical spectrum. While his book The Purpose-Driven Life made the best-seller lists, it's his model of "seeker-sensitive" or "new paradigm" church (outlined in The Purpose-Driven Church) that really won him fame.
In seeker-sensitive churches like Saddleback (Bill Hybels's Willow Creek Church in Chicago being the other main example), the main Sunday services aim explicitly at the non-churchgoer, whose likes and dislikes have been market-researched and focus-group tested by worship leaders. Using this data, church leaders re-create the service to appeal to "Unchurched Harry" (or "Saddleback Sam")--the generic niche consumer of church services. There's lots of music, multimedia, high energy, inspiring messages, and easygoing atmosphere. Conspicuously absent are high-church symbols like crosses, altars, pews, hymnals, offering plates, etc.
As Warren explains, the "seeker-sensitive" service is not actually the "true" worship service. It's bait, lure to attract people into membership. Once people actually join, they are expected to participate actively in the life of the church, typically through small-group "cells" that re-create in miniature the community atmosphere otherwise impossible in a church of 10,000+. Members have their own (authentic) worship service later in the week.
Warren's unorthodox approach extends to his inter-denominational politics. Saddleback is broadly evangelical and nondenominational, but Warren has distinguished himself as more willing than most other evangelical leaders to reach out to non-evangelical groups, especially on issues such as environmentalism. For many evangelicals, then, Warren is a traitor, a dangerously popular charlatan peddling a watered-down gospel. For others, he represents the next wave of evangelical leaders--doctrinally committed but willing to reach out. His influence, in any case, is not in question. He was, after all, the one who interviewed both presidential candidates about their faith and values in the last debate.
All of this makes his "I take no stand" rhetoric difficult. Warren has not been so coy about taking a stand on other issues in the past, though certainly he has largely steered clear of formal alignments with religious-right standards like Focus on the Family.
I'm sure I'm not alone here, though, in finding his newly stated neutrality in all things political... odd. Even un-pastoral.
More tomorrow,
JF
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sustaining Complexity Against the Hero High
I'm back from the Puerto Rico conference, where I was able to see my partner, catch up with old friends, hear some fascinating papers, and even (the night before I left) swim in the ocean.
I'm pleased to see the post about the Christian Prison (again--that just seems like a contradiction in terms to me) got some traffic. Clearly this is a matter deserving more attention. I mean, what's next? Denominational prisons? "I've spent 3 years doing hard time at the First Methodist Penitentiary. It's tough, but at least it's not as strict as Immanuel Baptist Prison. I keep hoping for a transfer to that Unitarian facility I hear about..."
I'm grateful to the commenters for their support and additional information. After I catch my breath (i.e., catch up on grading/class planning), I plan to investigate this issue more closely, and the resources suggested seem like excellent places to start. Thanks!
Before I dive into that matter, though--one of the papers I heard at this theatre conference was from my friend Laura Edmondson (I don't usually name names, but her work is fabulous). Laura researches East African theatre, particularly in the Tanzania/Uganda area. Of late, she's focused on performances, both by Africans and by outsiders, that address the multiple, various, and (in some cases) ongoing wars, battles, and genocides plaguing that region.
I've longed to have her perspective on the proposed Anti-Homosexuality Bill in Uganda (latest news: this formal letter of protest by Exodus International). Laura has a way of investigating East African issues that combines a clear appraisal of the area's history with a critical awareness of how easy it is for Westerners especially to oversimplify those issues.
Her presentation was on a play by US playwright Lynn Nottage called Ruined. Ruined takes place at a brothel in a disputed region of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) run by a savvy, powerful woman named Mama Nadi. As the play begins, Mama reluctantly agrees to take in two girls to work in her establishment. One of these, Salima, had been kidnapped and used as a concubine for a group of rebel soldiers. The other, Sophie, has been "ruined": raped with a bayonet so that she suffers from constant pain and (it is implied) a degree of incontinence. As such Sophie, while physically the more attractive, is useless as a prostitute since cannot herself have sex and, as a "ruined" woman, is considered dishonored. Mama nevertheless takes both girls in, employing Sophie mainly as a singer/eye candy.
As the play progresses, Nottage shows how Mama survives in a world defined by ever-shifting relations of trade, foreign intervention, and violence. Like Bertolt Brecht's Mother Courage (a play that serves as a rough model for this one), Mama refuses to declare loyalty to anyone but herself and her establishment, stroking the egos (and other things) of any soldier, commander, rebel, miner, or what have you who enters.
Nottage herself spent several years interviewing women who lived (or had lived) in Congo, many of whom were themselves "ruined" by rape. In Congo especially, rape is a weapon of war. A woman may be gang raped by soldiers in full view of her village and family so as to dishonor them along with her. Often rapist-soldiers will use objects like knives, sticks, or guns, damaging their victims and (when not immediately fatal) causing debilitating, humiliating, and painful conditions such as fistulas. This report by the Newshour on PBS gives a good overview. Men, too, are victims of this kind of war-rape. All of these acts of violence, of course, occur in the larger context of the aftermath of "Africa's World War," in which political power struggles, inter-tribal tensions, and the legacy of multiple exploitative colonial experiences erupted into widespread violence, much of which remains active today.
Confronted with this horrible spectacle, the temptation for theatre artists--particularly Western theatre artists--is to make, well, a spectacle out of all that horror. What's the problem with that? Well, for one thing, the Western dramatic tradition (the last couple of centuries, at least) prefers its dramas simple and its conflicts clear. Good guys versus bad guys, white hats versus black hats--this is the stuff of good theatre. Little in the Congo or other East African contexts, however, lends itself to melodramatic casting. To create a play about Congo in which bad people do terrible things to good people would be to flatten out, to do violence to, a complicated history.
Ruined, however, tries (as Nottage says) "to sustain the complexity" of the DRC's situation. No one in the play comes off as completely innocent, yet neither does Nottage set up a villain capable of absorbing all of the blame for the violence and human want. The play isn't interested in clarifying who's really at fault in this scenario. Indeed, little details in the play--references and bits of imagery sprinkled here and there--fill out the world, make it ever-more complicated.
In sustaining the complexity of the play, in denying the audience anything like a good/evil taxonomy of persons or forces, Nottage quells the Western impulse to "save the day," the impulse to act first--do something, anything--without thinking. As I've written about previously, the West's tendency to cast itself as Heroic Intervener encourages it to imagine and act on scripts in which it "succeeds" as hero insofar as it identifies a Bad Guy and destroys it. More often than not, this kind of action leads to the realization that ham-fisted interventionism does little beyond giving the West a "hero high" (that all-important sense of having done something) and may even make the situation worse. It may be, in many cases, that the best thing the West can do in some cases is to delay doing something huge, to question whether it's really equipped to intervene in a situation effectively, and to reconsider if the love of the hero-high isn't blinding it to other realities.
The potential danger, of course, with sustaining complexity like Nottage does is that spectators have the opposite reaction. Rather than donning a "Super-Savior" costume, Western spectators may just throw up their hands in despair and disengage, deciding that the horrible violence is just the way things are. Or--perhaps this is worse--the complex play may impose an artificially simplistic resolution.
Unlike the Brecht play it's modeled after, Ruined stays generally in the bounds of theatrical realism. As theorist Jill Dolan argues, realism as a style often dictates that plots resolve artificially (similar to how sitcoms typically return things to normal by the end of the episode), and Ruined is no exception. The play ends (spoiler!) with Mama revealing to the man who adores her that she, too, is "ruined"; the man (named Christian) accepts her anyway, giving a brutal play about brutal realities a sweet ending that (to Dolan and other critics) mars the careful treatment of the DNC situation.
My friend Laura, however, noted that East African spectators who have read the play or heard it (it does not yet have an African staging, nor has it yet been translated into Swahili or any other African language) like the ending. They resonate with the affirmation that life does go on and that, as the character Christian says, "we, and I speak as a man, can do better."
I do not do justice to my friend's in-depth analysis of the play, having just heard it once. I was so impressed, however, by just how carefully Laura strives to sustain the complexity of her reaction to Ruined while refusing to disengage. It's her example I've kept in mind as I've reacted to the Ugandan debates. Indeed, I think that example can apply even to the Christian Prison debate. What complexities are there? How do my own feelings, my own need to be Activist-Christian Hero, hinder my ability to see the situation in all its complexity? How, finally, can we as Christians and as activists do better?
More tomorrow,
JF
I'm pleased to see the post about the Christian Prison (again--that just seems like a contradiction in terms to me) got some traffic. Clearly this is a matter deserving more attention. I mean, what's next? Denominational prisons? "I've spent 3 years doing hard time at the First Methodist Penitentiary. It's tough, but at least it's not as strict as Immanuel Baptist Prison. I keep hoping for a transfer to that Unitarian facility I hear about..."
I'm grateful to the commenters for their support and additional information. After I catch my breath (i.e., catch up on grading/class planning), I plan to investigate this issue more closely, and the resources suggested seem like excellent places to start. Thanks!
Before I dive into that matter, though--one of the papers I heard at this theatre conference was from my friend Laura Edmondson (I don't usually name names, but her work is fabulous). Laura researches East African theatre, particularly in the Tanzania/Uganda area. Of late, she's focused on performances, both by Africans and by outsiders, that address the multiple, various, and (in some cases) ongoing wars, battles, and genocides plaguing that region.
I've longed to have her perspective on the proposed Anti-Homosexuality Bill in Uganda (latest news: this formal letter of protest by Exodus International). Laura has a way of investigating East African issues that combines a clear appraisal of the area's history with a critical awareness of how easy it is for Westerners especially to oversimplify those issues.
Her presentation was on a play by US playwright Lynn Nottage called Ruined. Ruined takes place at a brothel in a disputed region of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) run by a savvy, powerful woman named Mama Nadi. As the play begins, Mama reluctantly agrees to take in two girls to work in her establishment. One of these, Salima, had been kidnapped and used as a concubine for a group of rebel soldiers. The other, Sophie, has been "ruined": raped with a bayonet so that she suffers from constant pain and (it is implied) a degree of incontinence. As such Sophie, while physically the more attractive, is useless as a prostitute since cannot herself have sex and, as a "ruined" woman, is considered dishonored. Mama nevertheless takes both girls in, employing Sophie mainly as a singer/eye candy.
As the play progresses, Nottage shows how Mama survives in a world defined by ever-shifting relations of trade, foreign intervention, and violence. Like Bertolt Brecht's Mother Courage (a play that serves as a rough model for this one), Mama refuses to declare loyalty to anyone but herself and her establishment, stroking the egos (and other things) of any soldier, commander, rebel, miner, or what have you who enters.
Nottage herself spent several years interviewing women who lived (or had lived) in Congo, many of whom were themselves "ruined" by rape. In Congo especially, rape is a weapon of war. A woman may be gang raped by soldiers in full view of her village and family so as to dishonor them along with her. Often rapist-soldiers will use objects like knives, sticks, or guns, damaging their victims and (when not immediately fatal) causing debilitating, humiliating, and painful conditions such as fistulas. This report by the Newshour on PBS gives a good overview. Men, too, are victims of this kind of war-rape. All of these acts of violence, of course, occur in the larger context of the aftermath of "Africa's World War," in which political power struggles, inter-tribal tensions, and the legacy of multiple exploitative colonial experiences erupted into widespread violence, much of which remains active today.
Confronted with this horrible spectacle, the temptation for theatre artists--particularly Western theatre artists--is to make, well, a spectacle out of all that horror. What's the problem with that? Well, for one thing, the Western dramatic tradition (the last couple of centuries, at least) prefers its dramas simple and its conflicts clear. Good guys versus bad guys, white hats versus black hats--this is the stuff of good theatre. Little in the Congo or other East African contexts, however, lends itself to melodramatic casting. To create a play about Congo in which bad people do terrible things to good people would be to flatten out, to do violence to, a complicated history.
Ruined, however, tries (as Nottage says) "to sustain the complexity" of the DRC's situation. No one in the play comes off as completely innocent, yet neither does Nottage set up a villain capable of absorbing all of the blame for the violence and human want. The play isn't interested in clarifying who's really at fault in this scenario. Indeed, little details in the play--references and bits of imagery sprinkled here and there--fill out the world, make it ever-more complicated.
In sustaining the complexity of the play, in denying the audience anything like a good/evil taxonomy of persons or forces, Nottage quells the Western impulse to "save the day," the impulse to act first--do something, anything--without thinking. As I've written about previously, the West's tendency to cast itself as Heroic Intervener encourages it to imagine and act on scripts in which it "succeeds" as hero insofar as it identifies a Bad Guy and destroys it. More often than not, this kind of action leads to the realization that ham-fisted interventionism does little beyond giving the West a "hero high" (that all-important sense of having done something) and may even make the situation worse. It may be, in many cases, that the best thing the West can do in some cases is to delay doing something huge, to question whether it's really equipped to intervene in a situation effectively, and to reconsider if the love of the hero-high isn't blinding it to other realities.
The potential danger, of course, with sustaining complexity like Nottage does is that spectators have the opposite reaction. Rather than donning a "Super-Savior" costume, Western spectators may just throw up their hands in despair and disengage, deciding that the horrible violence is just the way things are. Or--perhaps this is worse--the complex play may impose an artificially simplistic resolution.
Unlike the Brecht play it's modeled after, Ruined stays generally in the bounds of theatrical realism. As theorist Jill Dolan argues, realism as a style often dictates that plots resolve artificially (similar to how sitcoms typically return things to normal by the end of the episode), and Ruined is no exception. The play ends (spoiler!) with Mama revealing to the man who adores her that she, too, is "ruined"; the man (named Christian) accepts her anyway, giving a brutal play about brutal realities a sweet ending that (to Dolan and other critics) mars the careful treatment of the DNC situation.
My friend Laura, however, noted that East African spectators who have read the play or heard it (it does not yet have an African staging, nor has it yet been translated into Swahili or any other African language) like the ending. They resonate with the affirmation that life does go on and that, as the character Christian says, "we, and I speak as a man, can do better."
I do not do justice to my friend's in-depth analysis of the play, having just heard it once. I was so impressed, however, by just how carefully Laura strives to sustain the complexity of her reaction to Ruined while refusing to disengage. It's her example I've kept in mind as I've reacted to the Ugandan debates. Indeed, I think that example can apply even to the Christian Prison debate. What complexities are there? How do my own feelings, my own need to be Activist-Christian Hero, hinder my ability to see the situation in all its complexity? How, finally, can we as Christians and as activists do better?
More tomorrow,
JF
Saturday, November 7, 2009
An Off-Key Bandwagon
Sigh--just when you think it's safe to hop on the bandwagon, you hear a badly out-of-tune note in the brass section.
I ended yesterday's post half-convinced to finally join the Facebook group protesting the proposed Bahati Bill in Uganda, the bill that, among other things, condemns homosexuality as an act on par with rape and calls for the death penalty for people caught having homosexual relations. I don't see the group itself literally doing much to persuade Ugandans not to adopt the bill. Ugandans are capable of debating such bills themselves, and Western disapproval of anti-homosexuality bills can be/has been used as "proof" that the decadent homosexuals of America wish to further corrupt pristine, authentic Uganda.
Rather, I argued that the utility of such a group consisted in getting people who otherwise wouldn't be in community to join together and perhaps even begin re-encountering each other's differences. Culture war veterans who almost never have a kind word for each other now--for the space of this one issue at least--find themselves united. As they join on this one issue, as they talk and listen (well, write and read) each other's testimonies, they may in the future be less likely to dismiss their opponents as thoughtless or immoral.
But, as I checked the pro and anti Bill Facebook pages today, I find a plethora of posts by one gentleman, clearly anti-Bill, whose views are in their own way just as toxic as those contained in the Bill. A taste of two posts by this person (and, to warn, these are pretty offensive), the first from the pro-Bill page, where he's filled the visible fields with posts like this:
The african struggle for democracy - as evidenced by the creators of this group - was and still is an exercise in hypocrisy. It wasn't about liberty and the protection of human rights. It was, in retrospect, only about taking what the "bwana" or colonial master had - the big buildings, the mercedes benz, the nice sui...ts... [sic] If black people had TRULY suffered under oppression, I think we would find that they would today be the biggest supporters of freedom, the right to express oneself, the right to be who you are. That just clearly is not the case. It seems, for Ugandans (and other african people), it's alright that other people suffer, as long as "I" don't.
Or this (from the anti-Bill page):
I wish people would realise that there is no point trying to help Uganda (or the rest of sub-saharan africa for that matter) in any way. The more you try to help, the more that help is turned against you, with accusations of "imperialism", "neo-colonialism" and so on. They don't want to be helped, that much is clear. All the west has been doing for the last few decades is to encourage the dependancy cycle in african countries: liberal, white-guilt advocacy groups encourage governments to send more aid and poverty-relief schemes into Africa, the aid is rapidly used up or siphoned off by corrupt governments who use it to further entrench themselves, while asking for yet more aid. Meanwhile, on the ground, the pathetic, half-literate population follow the dictates of their own backward culture which encourages the view that political leaders are always right and the leader who shouts the loudest is the "most right".
Blech. With friends like these... I don't know the gentleman in question here, but regardless of who he is, the things he says are about as ethnocentric-racist-classist as can be. Worse, his arguments--especially as he posts them (again and again and again) on the pro-Bill page, do absolutely nothing but play into the Uganda-versus-the-West melodramatic propaganda that assists the Bill's proponents in Uganda. Nothing makes a draconian anti-homosexuality bill seem all the more vital as a defense of "authentic" Ugandan culture than a pro-homosexual rant that disparages Ugandan culture.
In defense of the Anti-Facebook page's administrators, his comments have for the most part been roundly denounced or dismissed. It's painful, though, that on the pro-Bill page he and his supporters seem to be the main face of the West.
Such are the vicissitudes of using Facebook as activism.
If there's any kind of bright side, he seems at least not to be trying to represent Western Christians. The more I think about/write about this debate, the more I think that it's a testament to the ways that Christianity can operate in ways that bypass nationalist loyalties and ideologies. Westerners as Westerners may not have much of a place to stand in criticizing Ugandans' anti-gay attitudes (attitudes which are of course by no means shared by all Ugandans). But Western evangelicals as Bible-believing conservative Christians--and, yes, as opponents of the GLBT movement--may have the ability to speak (some degree of) truth in love.
Again, I think the importance of this debate isn't so much the debate itself; indeed, I think this debate will flare out soon and people will barely remember it six months from now. Rather, this debate is a staging ground for how the Christian West relates to the Christian South.
God help us your children of all nations to recognize each other. Let all who see us engage cry out, "see how much they love one another!"
More tomorrow,
JF
I ended yesterday's post half-convinced to finally join the Facebook group protesting the proposed Bahati Bill in Uganda, the bill that, among other things, condemns homosexuality as an act on par with rape and calls for the death penalty for people caught having homosexual relations. I don't see the group itself literally doing much to persuade Ugandans not to adopt the bill. Ugandans are capable of debating such bills themselves, and Western disapproval of anti-homosexuality bills can be/has been used as "proof" that the decadent homosexuals of America wish to further corrupt pristine, authentic Uganda.
Rather, I argued that the utility of such a group consisted in getting people who otherwise wouldn't be in community to join together and perhaps even begin re-encountering each other's differences. Culture war veterans who almost never have a kind word for each other now--for the space of this one issue at least--find themselves united. As they join on this one issue, as they talk and listen (well, write and read) each other's testimonies, they may in the future be less likely to dismiss their opponents as thoughtless or immoral.
But, as I checked the pro and anti Bill Facebook pages today, I find a plethora of posts by one gentleman, clearly anti-Bill, whose views are in their own way just as toxic as those contained in the Bill. A taste of two posts by this person (and, to warn, these are pretty offensive), the first from the pro-Bill page, where he's filled the visible fields with posts like this:
The african struggle for democracy - as evidenced by the creators of this group - was and still is an exercise in hypocrisy. It wasn't about liberty and the protection of human rights. It was, in retrospect, only about taking what the "bwana" or colonial master had - the big buildings, the mercedes benz, the nice sui...ts... [sic] If black people had TRULY suffered under oppression, I think we would find that they would today be the biggest supporters of freedom, the right to express oneself, the right to be who you are. That just clearly is not the case. It seems, for Ugandans (and other african people), it's alright that other people suffer, as long as "I" don't.
Or this (from the anti-Bill page):
I wish people would realise that there is no point trying to help Uganda (or the rest of sub-saharan africa for that matter) in any way. The more you try to help, the more that help is turned against you, with accusations of "imperialism", "neo-colonialism" and so on. They don't want to be helped, that much is clear. All the west has been doing for the last few decades is to encourage the dependancy cycle in african countries: liberal, white-guilt advocacy groups encourage governments to send more aid and poverty-relief schemes into Africa, the aid is rapidly used up or siphoned off by corrupt governments who use it to further entrench themselves, while asking for yet more aid. Meanwhile, on the ground, the pathetic, half-literate population follow the dictates of their own backward culture which encourages the view that political leaders are always right and the leader who shouts the loudest is the "most right".
Blech. With friends like these... I don't know the gentleman in question here, but regardless of who he is, the things he says are about as ethnocentric-racist-classist as can be. Worse, his arguments--especially as he posts them (again and again and again) on the pro-Bill page, do absolutely nothing but play into the Uganda-versus-the-West melodramatic propaganda that assists the Bill's proponents in Uganda. Nothing makes a draconian anti-homosexuality bill seem all the more vital as a defense of "authentic" Ugandan culture than a pro-homosexual rant that disparages Ugandan culture.
In defense of the Anti-Facebook page's administrators, his comments have for the most part been roundly denounced or dismissed. It's painful, though, that on the pro-Bill page he and his supporters seem to be the main face of the West.
Such are the vicissitudes of using Facebook as activism.
If there's any kind of bright side, he seems at least not to be trying to represent Western Christians. The more I think about/write about this debate, the more I think that it's a testament to the ways that Christianity can operate in ways that bypass nationalist loyalties and ideologies. Westerners as Westerners may not have much of a place to stand in criticizing Ugandans' anti-gay attitudes (attitudes which are of course by no means shared by all Ugandans). But Western evangelicals as Bible-believing conservative Christians--and, yes, as opponents of the GLBT movement--may have the ability to speak (some degree of) truth in love.
Again, I think the importance of this debate isn't so much the debate itself; indeed, I think this debate will flare out soon and people will barely remember it six months from now. Rather, this debate is a staging ground for how the Christian West relates to the Christian South.
God help us your children of all nations to recognize each other. Let all who see us engage cry out, "see how much they love one another!"
More tomorrow,
JF
Friday, November 6, 2009
Affect and Activism in Facebook Politics
So--I suggested yesterday that certain expressions of "activism," such as joining a Facebook page protesting the Ugandan Anti-Homosexuality Bill (known now as the Bahati Bill after one of its co-sponsors, David Bahati), may in fact be a form of affectivism.
That is, the urge to "do something" in the face of a shocking injustice (in this case, instituting the death penalty for homosexual acts) can in fact result in activities that do less to address the injustice itself and more to satisfy the urge to action. Clicking on a "join this group" (or "sign this petition" or "send this form e-mail") button, seeing the group's postings added to your "wall," receiving updates about the group's status--all of this can create the appearance that you have, along with 3,000+ other people, "done" something meaningful. You have the feeling--the affect--of joining a positive, activist movement.
Let me be clear: Facebook activism is about the Facebook user more than the ostensible object of activism. No Facebook page founded and populated primarily by US citizens shocked at Uganda's proposed legislation will likely do thing one to persuade Ugandans to resist passage of this bill. In terms of non-virtual effect, joining a Facebook page literally does nothing except produce a feeling of self-satisfaction.
But surely it's good for people to know about the Ugandan situation, isn't it? Surely Facebook is a good way to raise people's consciousness about this situation, yes? I mean, the more people who know about this Bill...
...um... What? What exactly follows from more US people knowing about this Bill? Suppose the Facebook group doubles, triples, increases to hundreds of thousands of people protesting the Bill. What are these groups of outraged US citizens proposing be done? Invade Uganda and make them behave? Shout the international equivalent of "shame on you"? Regardless of what you or I may personally think of US foreign policy, it is clear that in the eyes of much of the world, the US's authority to assert itself as arbiter of international morality is currently strained at best. Uganda faces a number of challenges (e.g., the threat posed by the Lord's Resistance Army) arguably much more pressing than an offensive bill. Where is the US outrage/consciousness-raising about those challenges?
Worse, the outraged cries of Western groups may play into a Ugandans-versus-the-West narrative that the bill's backers are using (at least in part) to make passing this bill a sine qua non of Ugandan identity. "See how the decadent West opposes our sovereignty?" they say, "See how the homosexuals are desperate to import their vile [colonial] behaviors into our [pristine, Godly] nation?"
I should note, again, that the situation is precisely not one of "Ugandan values versus the West." Uganda already has a robust debate about this Bill within its own borders. It doesn't exactly need the Enlightened West to Teach it what is Good and Proper.
What, then, is the good of a Facebook group if such affectivism focuses more on US citizens than on remedying the actual situation?
Let me share up front that I don't particularly see this situation as one that US citizens as such are able to change. Uganda's decision on the bill--whatever it may ultimately be--will simply be a reality the US and other Western nations have to live with. Certainly, if the Bill becomes law, that reality will have repercussions in terms of international relations, aid, travel, and so on. At that point--as the US government decides how to react to this act by Uganda--then groups like the Facebook page might exert pressure on representatives to enact material changes to US relations to Uganda. At that point, though (i.e., writing to senators, lobbying, voting), the work is plainly activism--action-focused rather than affect-focused.
Until such time, Facebook activism remains a matter of conjuring a group of people joined by the affect of outrage. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Activist community isn't a song that plays itself. Should the time come for action, it's vital that there be an activated group of people to initiate that action. Affect-focused activism like the Facebook page play a role in creating that activated community.
Moreover, the group grants a possibility for a bit of civic self-reflection, allowing members to explore the bonds and tensions between them. As I've noted, the Facebook group is not the product of the Human Rights Campaign or Amnesty International but of Warren Throckmorton, moderate-conservative Christian advocate of "ex-gay" therapies. Yet the group has attracted people from throughout the political spectrum: diehard atheist leftists, GLBT-affirmative Christians, conservative Biblical inerrantists, ex-gays, ex-ex-gays, people of other faiths, people merely interested in human rights, people who join out of peer pressure/guilt.
As these people begin to talk to each other, their discussions probe their respective political/theological boundaries. Some of the debates get quite heated about issues of whether or not homosexuality is natural/unnatural, evil/good, or curable/innate. But no matter what the differences, the conversation returns to "well, we disagree on X, but we both believe that this Bill is wrong." The group performs that communal tension I've written about before--bound together in some respects (one specific issue in this case) and fundamentally opposed to each other in another.
It's exciting to me, actually, that this group--which may or may not prove lasting--contests so many "culture war" alignments, re-orienting (if you'll pardon the pun) "left" and "right" sides in a rare moment of shared perspective. Such a for-this-issue coaliltion isn't sameness, but neither is it exactly antagonism.
Goodness. I may have just convinced myself to join. If you'd like to, the link is here.
More tomorrow,
JF
That is, the urge to "do something" in the face of a shocking injustice (in this case, instituting the death penalty for homosexual acts) can in fact result in activities that do less to address the injustice itself and more to satisfy the urge to action. Clicking on a "join this group" (or "sign this petition" or "send this form e-mail") button, seeing the group's postings added to your "wall," receiving updates about the group's status--all of this can create the appearance that you have, along with 3,000+ other people, "done" something meaningful. You have the feeling--the affect--of joining a positive, activist movement.
Let me be clear: Facebook activism is about the Facebook user more than the ostensible object of activism. No Facebook page founded and populated primarily by US citizens shocked at Uganda's proposed legislation will likely do thing one to persuade Ugandans to resist passage of this bill. In terms of non-virtual effect, joining a Facebook page literally does nothing except produce a feeling of self-satisfaction.
But surely it's good for people to know about the Ugandan situation, isn't it? Surely Facebook is a good way to raise people's consciousness about this situation, yes? I mean, the more people who know about this Bill...
...um... What? What exactly follows from more US people knowing about this Bill? Suppose the Facebook group doubles, triples, increases to hundreds of thousands of people protesting the Bill. What are these groups of outraged US citizens proposing be done? Invade Uganda and make them behave? Shout the international equivalent of "shame on you"? Regardless of what you or I may personally think of US foreign policy, it is clear that in the eyes of much of the world, the US's authority to assert itself as arbiter of international morality is currently strained at best. Uganda faces a number of challenges (e.g., the threat posed by the Lord's Resistance Army) arguably much more pressing than an offensive bill. Where is the US outrage/consciousness-raising about those challenges?
Worse, the outraged cries of Western groups may play into a Ugandans-versus-the-West narrative that the bill's backers are using (at least in part) to make passing this bill a sine qua non of Ugandan identity. "See how the decadent West opposes our sovereignty?" they say, "See how the homosexuals are desperate to import their vile [colonial] behaviors into our [pristine, Godly] nation?"
I should note, again, that the situation is precisely not one of "Ugandan values versus the West." Uganda already has a robust debate about this Bill within its own borders. It doesn't exactly need the Enlightened West to Teach it what is Good and Proper.
What, then, is the good of a Facebook group if such affectivism focuses more on US citizens than on remedying the actual situation?
Let me share up front that I don't particularly see this situation as one that US citizens as such are able to change. Uganda's decision on the bill--whatever it may ultimately be--will simply be a reality the US and other Western nations have to live with. Certainly, if the Bill becomes law, that reality will have repercussions in terms of international relations, aid, travel, and so on. At that point--as the US government decides how to react to this act by Uganda--then groups like the Facebook page might exert pressure on representatives to enact material changes to US relations to Uganda. At that point, though (i.e., writing to senators, lobbying, voting), the work is plainly activism--action-focused rather than affect-focused.
Until such time, Facebook activism remains a matter of conjuring a group of people joined by the affect of outrage. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Activist community isn't a song that plays itself. Should the time come for action, it's vital that there be an activated group of people to initiate that action. Affect-focused activism like the Facebook page play a role in creating that activated community.
Moreover, the group grants a possibility for a bit of civic self-reflection, allowing members to explore the bonds and tensions between them. As I've noted, the Facebook group is not the product of the Human Rights Campaign or Amnesty International but of Warren Throckmorton, moderate-conservative Christian advocate of "ex-gay" therapies. Yet the group has attracted people from throughout the political spectrum: diehard atheist leftists, GLBT-affirmative Christians, conservative Biblical inerrantists, ex-gays, ex-ex-gays, people of other faiths, people merely interested in human rights, people who join out of peer pressure/guilt.
As these people begin to talk to each other, their discussions probe their respective political/theological boundaries. Some of the debates get quite heated about issues of whether or not homosexuality is natural/unnatural, evil/good, or curable/innate. But no matter what the differences, the conversation returns to "well, we disagree on X, but we both believe that this Bill is wrong." The group performs that communal tension I've written about before--bound together in some respects (one specific issue in this case) and fundamentally opposed to each other in another.
It's exciting to me, actually, that this group--which may or may not prove lasting--contests so many "culture war" alignments, re-orienting (if you'll pardon the pun) "left" and "right" sides in a rare moment of shared perspective. Such a for-this-issue coaliltion isn't sameness, but neither is it exactly antagonism.
Goodness. I may have just convinced myself to join. If you'd like to, the link is here.
More tomorrow,
JF
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Facebook Affectivism and the Ugandan Anti-Homosexuality Bill
As Facebook groups both pro- and anti-Ugandan Anti-Homosexuality Bill continue to grow, a question emerges: what's the use?
To dispel any suspense here, let me say I do see a value in such pages, even an activist utility. But before I get into that, I need to vent a bit about what such pages do not accomplish.
One of the issues that fascinates me about activist performance (and social-change movements in general) is how the pressure do "do something" often crowds out deep thought concerning "what is to be done." When presented with a situation that shocks the conscience, as the Ugandan bill's draconian provisions certainly do, the understandable impulse is to ask, "what can I do to help?"
Very often, however, this understandable impulse produces actions that do less to actually help the situation and more to assuage the feeling that action is necessary. Performance--in the combined sense of "a display for an audience" and "the accomplishment of an action"--is well-suited to producing and responding to emotional affects. Doing something--especially when that doing is public or spectacular--naturally produces a feeling of, well, getting something done. The problem is, producing this feeling, this affect of activism, can displace the ostensibly more vital goal of actually accomplishing something.
Consider the Facebook pages that spring up not only around this issue but around many other issues. Joining the page, perhaps even posting a supportive message, certainly creates both the appearance and feeling of having "done something" about this issue. Indeed, this feeling sometimes morphs into a sense of moral satisfaction, even superiority, regarding the act. On the anti-Ugandan bill page (i.e., the facebook page devoted to expressing protest toward the Bill's anti-homosexuality provisions), one commenter writes of how she invited all of her 500+ friends to sign on as fans/members of the page. Alas, she writes, only about 40 or so did, a fact she interprets as indicating a shameful degree of apathy on the part of said friends. How can they care so little for GLBT people as to express no opinion on this issue?
It's that kind of sentiment that presses my curmudgeonly buttons. I've mentioned before on this blog that, the more I study activist/social-change performance, the less patience I have for knee-jerk, thoughtless activism. Or--as I call it--affectivism, action whose effect is producing not actual change in material conditions or legislation but producing an affect--a feeling of "doing something"--that replaces careful consideration of the issues involved and non-virtual steps necessary to alter the situation.
It's all the more annoying when calls for such affectivism come in the form of some passive-agressive litmus test for progressives: "You'll of course do the right thing and participate in this highly visible but fairly empty gesture--or you fail the test of really caring about your fellow human being." Such coercive cheerleading has always turned me off, be it in the form of a high school pep rally, a standing ovation, or a forwarded e-mail call to (non)action. Such instances mobilize bandwagon techniques--or even plain-old guilt trips--to inspire action, which is of course base-level manipulative.
But, beyond my resentment at being manipulated into action through negative emotions (fear of being left out, fear of being blamed), I approach coercive affectivism with a skeptical mindset because it can so often produce counter-productive action. When you believe that doing something--anything--is utterly and immediately necessary, you're likely to do, well, something, anything. Coercive affectivism suspends thought, bypassing rationality. And, I will admit, at times such gut-level reactions are necessary. If a child strays into a busy street, I'd hope that my reactions would be quick rather than ratified by committee.
But the same affective imperatives that move people to stand and cheer, go out an march/protest, or even join facebook groups can also move people to form mobs, to strike out blindly, or to otherwise overreact. Action for action's sake can be deadly.
Now, no one's likely to die from Facebook affectivism. But I'm incredulous that joining a group populated by like-minded (mainly US) people most of whom (myself included) know almost nothing about Ugandan culture and politics is the be-all/end-all of positive responses to this Bill.
That said, I do think that the Facebook group does accomplish some important activist objectives.
More on those tomorrow,
JF
To dispel any suspense here, let me say I do see a value in such pages, even an activist utility. But before I get into that, I need to vent a bit about what such pages do not accomplish.
One of the issues that fascinates me about activist performance (and social-change movements in general) is how the pressure do "do something" often crowds out deep thought concerning "what is to be done." When presented with a situation that shocks the conscience, as the Ugandan bill's draconian provisions certainly do, the understandable impulse is to ask, "what can I do to help?"
Very often, however, this understandable impulse produces actions that do less to actually help the situation and more to assuage the feeling that action is necessary. Performance--in the combined sense of "a display for an audience" and "the accomplishment of an action"--is well-suited to producing and responding to emotional affects. Doing something--especially when that doing is public or spectacular--naturally produces a feeling of, well, getting something done. The problem is, producing this feeling, this affect of activism, can displace the ostensibly more vital goal of actually accomplishing something.
Consider the Facebook pages that spring up not only around this issue but around many other issues. Joining the page, perhaps even posting a supportive message, certainly creates both the appearance and feeling of having "done something" about this issue. Indeed, this feeling sometimes morphs into a sense of moral satisfaction, even superiority, regarding the act. On the anti-Ugandan bill page (i.e., the facebook page devoted to expressing protest toward the Bill's anti-homosexuality provisions), one commenter writes of how she invited all of her 500+ friends to sign on as fans/members of the page. Alas, she writes, only about 40 or so did, a fact she interprets as indicating a shameful degree of apathy on the part of said friends. How can they care so little for GLBT people as to express no opinion on this issue?
It's that kind of sentiment that presses my curmudgeonly buttons. I've mentioned before on this blog that, the more I study activist/social-change performance, the less patience I have for knee-jerk, thoughtless activism. Or--as I call it--affectivism, action whose effect is producing not actual change in material conditions or legislation but producing an affect--a feeling of "doing something"--that replaces careful consideration of the issues involved and non-virtual steps necessary to alter the situation.
It's all the more annoying when calls for such affectivism come in the form of some passive-agressive litmus test for progressives: "You'll of course do the right thing and participate in this highly visible but fairly empty gesture--or you fail the test of really caring about your fellow human being." Such coercive cheerleading has always turned me off, be it in the form of a high school pep rally, a standing ovation, or a forwarded e-mail call to (non)action. Such instances mobilize bandwagon techniques--or even plain-old guilt trips--to inspire action, which is of course base-level manipulative.
But, beyond my resentment at being manipulated into action through negative emotions (fear of being left out, fear of being blamed), I approach coercive affectivism with a skeptical mindset because it can so often produce counter-productive action. When you believe that doing something--anything--is utterly and immediately necessary, you're likely to do, well, something, anything. Coercive affectivism suspends thought, bypassing rationality. And, I will admit, at times such gut-level reactions are necessary. If a child strays into a busy street, I'd hope that my reactions would be quick rather than ratified by committee.
But the same affective imperatives that move people to stand and cheer, go out an march/protest, or even join facebook groups can also move people to form mobs, to strike out blindly, or to otherwise overreact. Action for action's sake can be deadly.
Now, no one's likely to die from Facebook affectivism. But I'm incredulous that joining a group populated by like-minded (mainly US) people most of whom (myself included) know almost nothing about Ugandan culture and politics is the be-all/end-all of positive responses to this Bill.
That said, I do think that the Facebook group does accomplish some important activist objectives.
More on those tomorrow,
JF
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
More About the Ugandan Bill
The Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Bill debate proceeds apace, both within and without the country itself.
This editorial from Sylvia Tamale of Makerere University provides some helpful background information on Uganda's longstanding criminalization of homosexual behavior as well as more evidence that Ugandans are not of one mind on this issue. From a US, conservative-Christian perspective, Warren Throckmorton writes this rather eloquent editorial posing the cliched-but-compelling question, What Would Jesus Do? The Facebook pages, both anti-Bill and pro-Bill, continue to garner members.
From the comments and from the text of the bill itself, the mentality behind the legislation appears to view homosexuality (primarily male homosexuality) as an always coercive violation of another person. Several of the Ugandan commentators ask perplexedly why Western Christians would deny them the right to criminalize an offense they consider to be as awful as rape or molestation. The idea that any male could be homosexual and enjoy consensual sexual contact with another homosexual male seems well-nigh unthinkable. Other arguments for the bill cite nature, reasoning that since sex is of course for procreation, homosexuality is contrary to nature itself.
Christian groups, both conservative and otherwise, both from Africa and from abroad, continue to issue denouncements of the bill, urging Ugandan Christians to reconsider their support for its draconian measures. Several pastors from the Church of Uganda have in fact recommended that the death penalty clause be removed, though many still support the life imprisonment clauses.
Disturbing sentiments such as the latter from some Ugandan Christian leaders ("don't kill them, but do lock them away forever") highlight the tensions emerging in global Christianity as Western denominations encounter the explosion of members in developing nations. In the Anglican and United Methodist Churches, for example, the influence of African members have breathed new life into the conservative wings of those denomination, as they almost uniformly take extremely conservative stands on issues such as sexuality and the role of women in ministry.
In the General Conferences of the UMC (i.e., the once-every-four-years meeting of representatives from the entire denomination) I've been to, the African delegations played a particularly important role in debates about GLBT issues. Their testimonies and arguments draw special attention--one might even say deference--from the US members who are keenly aware of the need for conscientious fellowship with overseas brothers and sisters.
Distressingly from my perspective, statements about GLBT issues by African delegates often mirrored the exasperated, why-is-this-even-up-for-debate tones of the Ugandan blog commentators. Pleas by various US-based delegates for their overseas brethren to extend to US congregations the same degree of cultural considerations (e.g., realize what it means to be a pastor in San Francisco) that the brethren themselves enjoy (non-US Conferences have a greater degree of flexibility in following UMC Discipline than US Conferences do) largely fell on deaf ears. The GLBT issue, in the arguments I heard from several African delegates, is an all-or-nothing litmus test of Christianity. That the church would even consider the possibility of, say, ordaining an openly gay or lesbian person is evidence of how decadent the American church has become. Of course, such anti-GLBT sentiments jibed perfectly with those of the more conservative sectors of the US delegation, who were for once happy to be the advocates of diversity within the church.
US conservatives in the Anglican Communion have similarly reached out to African Anglican Bishops as a way to disassociate themselves with the US Episcopal Church, creating the novel situation of African missionary outposts in the US. With these African Anglicans, US conservatives find a church home that conforms to their beliefs about sexuality (heteros only, please) and female ordination (none of that, please).
I am curious, then, to see how United Methodist and Anglican clergy in and around Uganda feel about this bill. I spoke yesterday of "intervention." As I hope was clear, I do not see that the US has any real authority to intervene in Uganda's internal affairs.
As a Christian living in communion with Ugandan Christians, however--more, as a Methodist, I feel a different kind of intervention is possible and appropriate. While I am skeptical that a Facebook page against the Bill can exert much persuasive power, I support overtures by people like Throckmorton that attempt to meet pro-Bill Ugandan Christians on their own ground.
I've noted that some more liberal GLBT advocacy groups have argued that various conservative and (especially) ex-gay ministries bear much of the blame for the Ugandan bill to begin with and that such ministries have been slow or tepid in their response. Though I have considerable qualms about ex-gay ministries (a label, I should note, that many such ministries do not embrace), I do not see such criticisms as entirely fair. Uganda, it seems to me, did not require the special intervention of a handful of US ministers over the summer to suddenly decide to prosecute homosexuality. Moreover, as much as I may disagree with the pathologization of homosexuality, the bill's provisions convince me that seeing GLBT people as people in need of prayer or treatment is preferable to seeing them as rapists or (as one facebook commentator put it) "sewage."
Randy Thomas of Exodus International (the premiere "ex-gay" ministry) was quoted on one anti-ex-gay blog: "It isn’t going to be a gay activist yelling at the Ugandan government that will actually get our ssa [same-sex-attracted] brothers and sisters out of jail. It will be people like me pleading with these leaders to recognize the Christ-likeness inherent in respecting self-determination and the dignity of every soul that draws breath." (quoted on this page). I have to admit that Thomas has a point. Reading the conservative commentators on Throckmorton's blog doing their darndest to make a reasoned, Biblically sound argument against the bill reinforced Thomas's point: if the anti-gay conservative Christians in Uganda are going to change, it will likely be from people like Thomas, Throckmorton, and others.
That reality, in turn, forces me to rethink how I position myself in relation to such people.
Part of what makes this whole situation so murky is how it reformats the topography of faith-based culture wars. As the century progresses, conservatives in the US are likely to find, I think, that what counts as "conservative" or "traditional Christian" here in the States differs quite a bit from what is meant by those same terms in Africa. Indeed, Christianity itself takes different forms in various parts of the global south, where Pentecostal traditions of speaking in tongues, faith healing, ecstatic worship styles, and a much more strictly conservative theology seem to enjoy the most robust growth rates.
I am curious, then, to see how this debate turns out.
More tomorrow,
JF
PS: I am curious about the stance of the United Methodist Bishop of the East African Annual Conference, Daniel Wandabula. Anyone know?
This editorial from Sylvia Tamale of Makerere University provides some helpful background information on Uganda's longstanding criminalization of homosexual behavior as well as more evidence that Ugandans are not of one mind on this issue. From a US, conservative-Christian perspective, Warren Throckmorton writes this rather eloquent editorial posing the cliched-but-compelling question, What Would Jesus Do? The Facebook pages, both anti-Bill and pro-Bill, continue to garner members.
From the comments and from the text of the bill itself, the mentality behind the legislation appears to view homosexuality (primarily male homosexuality) as an always coercive violation of another person. Several of the Ugandan commentators ask perplexedly why Western Christians would deny them the right to criminalize an offense they consider to be as awful as rape or molestation. The idea that any male could be homosexual and enjoy consensual sexual contact with another homosexual male seems well-nigh unthinkable. Other arguments for the bill cite nature, reasoning that since sex is of course for procreation, homosexuality is contrary to nature itself.
Christian groups, both conservative and otherwise, both from Africa and from abroad, continue to issue denouncements of the bill, urging Ugandan Christians to reconsider their support for its draconian measures. Several pastors from the Church of Uganda have in fact recommended that the death penalty clause be removed, though many still support the life imprisonment clauses.
Disturbing sentiments such as the latter from some Ugandan Christian leaders ("don't kill them, but do lock them away forever") highlight the tensions emerging in global Christianity as Western denominations encounter the explosion of members in developing nations. In the Anglican and United Methodist Churches, for example, the influence of African members have breathed new life into the conservative wings of those denomination, as they almost uniformly take extremely conservative stands on issues such as sexuality and the role of women in ministry.
In the General Conferences of the UMC (i.e., the once-every-four-years meeting of representatives from the entire denomination) I've been to, the African delegations played a particularly important role in debates about GLBT issues. Their testimonies and arguments draw special attention--one might even say deference--from the US members who are keenly aware of the need for conscientious fellowship with overseas brothers and sisters.
Distressingly from my perspective, statements about GLBT issues by African delegates often mirrored the exasperated, why-is-this-even-up-for-debate tones of the Ugandan blog commentators. Pleas by various US-based delegates for their overseas brethren to extend to US congregations the same degree of cultural considerations (e.g., realize what it means to be a pastor in San Francisco) that the brethren themselves enjoy (non-US Conferences have a greater degree of flexibility in following UMC Discipline than US Conferences do) largely fell on deaf ears. The GLBT issue, in the arguments I heard from several African delegates, is an all-or-nothing litmus test of Christianity. That the church would even consider the possibility of, say, ordaining an openly gay or lesbian person is evidence of how decadent the American church has become. Of course, such anti-GLBT sentiments jibed perfectly with those of the more conservative sectors of the US delegation, who were for once happy to be the advocates of diversity within the church.
US conservatives in the Anglican Communion have similarly reached out to African Anglican Bishops as a way to disassociate themselves with the US Episcopal Church, creating the novel situation of African missionary outposts in the US. With these African Anglicans, US conservatives find a church home that conforms to their beliefs about sexuality (heteros only, please) and female ordination (none of that, please).
I am curious, then, to see how United Methodist and Anglican clergy in and around Uganda feel about this bill. I spoke yesterday of "intervention." As I hope was clear, I do not see that the US has any real authority to intervene in Uganda's internal affairs.
As a Christian living in communion with Ugandan Christians, however--more, as a Methodist, I feel a different kind of intervention is possible and appropriate. While I am skeptical that a Facebook page against the Bill can exert much persuasive power, I support overtures by people like Throckmorton that attempt to meet pro-Bill Ugandan Christians on their own ground.
I've noted that some more liberal GLBT advocacy groups have argued that various conservative and (especially) ex-gay ministries bear much of the blame for the Ugandan bill to begin with and that such ministries have been slow or tepid in their response. Though I have considerable qualms about ex-gay ministries (a label, I should note, that many such ministries do not embrace), I do not see such criticisms as entirely fair. Uganda, it seems to me, did not require the special intervention of a handful of US ministers over the summer to suddenly decide to prosecute homosexuality. Moreover, as much as I may disagree with the pathologization of homosexuality, the bill's provisions convince me that seeing GLBT people as people in need of prayer or treatment is preferable to seeing them as rapists or (as one facebook commentator put it) "sewage."
Randy Thomas of Exodus International (the premiere "ex-gay" ministry) was quoted on one anti-ex-gay blog: "It isn’t going to be a gay activist yelling at the Ugandan government that will actually get our ssa [same-sex-attracted] brothers and sisters out of jail. It will be people like me pleading with these leaders to recognize the Christ-likeness inherent in respecting self-determination and the dignity of every soul that draws breath." (quoted on this page). I have to admit that Thomas has a point. Reading the conservative commentators on Throckmorton's blog doing their darndest to make a reasoned, Biblically sound argument against the bill reinforced Thomas's point: if the anti-gay conservative Christians in Uganda are going to change, it will likely be from people like Thomas, Throckmorton, and others.
That reality, in turn, forces me to rethink how I position myself in relation to such people.
Part of what makes this whole situation so murky is how it reformats the topography of faith-based culture wars. As the century progresses, conservatives in the US are likely to find, I think, that what counts as "conservative" or "traditional Christian" here in the States differs quite a bit from what is meant by those same terms in Africa. Indeed, Christianity itself takes different forms in various parts of the global south, where Pentecostal traditions of speaking in tongues, faith healing, ecstatic worship styles, and a much more strictly conservative theology seem to enjoy the most robust growth rates.
I am curious, then, to see how this debate turns out.
More tomorrow,
JF
PS: I am curious about the stance of the United Methodist Bishop of the East African Annual Conference, Daniel Wandabula. Anyone know?
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Interventions and the Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Bill
I've been thinking about the bystander issue in relation to GLBT issues lately largely because of this bill, which was proposed in Uganda.
The bill (which seems to be known in various internet debates by both supporters and opponents as Uganda's Anti-Homosexuality Bill), at least in current drafts, essentially defines homosexuality as a crime punishable by life imprisonment or even execution. Also criminalized in the bill are offenses like "aiding and abetting homosexuality" or "conspiracy to engage in homosexuality," each punishable by a sentence of seven years in prison.
The proposed bill, not surprisingly, has drawn sharp criticism from those in the GLBT rights community. Indeed, even conservative Christian groups are raising protests against the bill (see this Facebook page, for example, or this statement from Rick Warren). The Obama administration has condemned the bill, as have other countries and human rights organizations.
Uganda, never a go-to locale for GLBT rights, has largely rejected what it sees as outside attempts to meddle in its affairs. Supporters of the bill have started their own Facebook group, even as a number of Ugandans--including many Christian groups and speakers--have spoken out against the bill.
Complicating this issue, of course, is the fact that a number of ex-gay ministers had recently visited Uganda to hold a mini-conference regarding ministry to and help for homosexual people (i.e., get them to stop living as homosexual people, convince them to see their sexuality as a corruption or disorder, etc.). I need to do more research on this, but least some of the ministers supporting the bill in Uganda appear to be drawing on arguments used by these ex-gay speakers. Several in the "ex-ex-gay" movement who watchdog and criticize ex-gay organizations, have laid the blame for Uganda's current bill at the feet of ex-gay ministries. The ex-gay ministries themselves, of course, take offense at this allegation, firing back with posts and protests of their own.
For a taste of the depth of the debate from a number of sides, I recommend this posting on a blog by Warren Throckmorton, a conservative Christian psychology professor who has been very active in organizing US-based opposition to the bill (he founded the anti-bill Facebook page I linked above). This post, which relates a statement by Ugandan ministers and groups opposed to the bill, fascinates me largely for its ongoing (as of this writing) comments section. There you can read posts from a surprisingly wide spectrum of viewpoints, from ex-gays to gay-affirmative Christians and everything in between.
Particularly striking are comments from a poster who identifies himself (I believe it's a himself) as a Ugandan national very much in favor of the bill. In addition to lambasting the other posters for meddling in Uganda's own affairs, the poster expresses flat disbelief that anyone who calls herself a Christian could possibly be against the legislation.
The comments from that poster and from others provoke a startling realization about just how radically apart we who exist in the global body of Christ can be. I write often of fundamental disagreements between believers, but here is a fundamental disagreement of an order rarely seen in present-day US contexts. Indeed, the example of the bill's supporters (which would no doubt include many non-Ugandan Christians such as Fred Phelps) contrasts starkly with most of the pro-family/anti-gay/ex-gay movements here. Compared to people who see homosexuality as worse than murder and homosexuals as richly deserving of death, ex-gay ministries look positively liberal.
Mucking up all of these debates, of course, is the postcolonial context of massive, long-term Western and European interventions into African cultures. Indeed, "interventions" of various sorts (economic, military, governmental, cultural, religious), many of which cloak themselves with the best of intentions, have long defined the West's approach to African affairs, casting "the West" and "Africa" as characters in an old fashioned melodrama. In more recent narratives, the West becomes "intervener"--blessed or tasked with the power (ability, maturity, moral superiority) necessary to save the poor, benighted, self-defeating African nations (who cannot or will not help themselves). Centuries of such unequal roleplay contaminate present-day relations, making the question I've asked in the last few days--how and when to intervene--almost impossible to answer.
That vexed and vexing relationship, however, promises to grow only more pressing throughout this century as the locus of energy for Christianity shifts to the global south. Issues like the current Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Bill--itself redolent with conflicting histories of Christian interventions and counter-interventions--presage similar conflicts yet to come.
This is already apparent in the United Methodist Church.
More tomorrow,
JF
The bill (which seems to be known in various internet debates by both supporters and opponents as Uganda's Anti-Homosexuality Bill), at least in current drafts, essentially defines homosexuality as a crime punishable by life imprisonment or even execution. Also criminalized in the bill are offenses like "aiding and abetting homosexuality" or "conspiracy to engage in homosexuality," each punishable by a sentence of seven years in prison.
The proposed bill, not surprisingly, has drawn sharp criticism from those in the GLBT rights community. Indeed, even conservative Christian groups are raising protests against the bill (see this Facebook page, for example, or this statement from Rick Warren). The Obama administration has condemned the bill, as have other countries and human rights organizations.
Uganda, never a go-to locale for GLBT rights, has largely rejected what it sees as outside attempts to meddle in its affairs. Supporters of the bill have started their own Facebook group, even as a number of Ugandans--including many Christian groups and speakers--have spoken out against the bill.
Complicating this issue, of course, is the fact that a number of ex-gay ministers had recently visited Uganda to hold a mini-conference regarding ministry to and help for homosexual people (i.e., get them to stop living as homosexual people, convince them to see their sexuality as a corruption or disorder, etc.). I need to do more research on this, but least some of the ministers supporting the bill in Uganda appear to be drawing on arguments used by these ex-gay speakers. Several in the "ex-ex-gay" movement who watchdog and criticize ex-gay organizations, have laid the blame for Uganda's current bill at the feet of ex-gay ministries. The ex-gay ministries themselves, of course, take offense at this allegation, firing back with posts and protests of their own.
For a taste of the depth of the debate from a number of sides, I recommend this posting on a blog by Warren Throckmorton, a conservative Christian psychology professor who has been very active in organizing US-based opposition to the bill (he founded the anti-bill Facebook page I linked above). This post, which relates a statement by Ugandan ministers and groups opposed to the bill, fascinates me largely for its ongoing (as of this writing) comments section. There you can read posts from a surprisingly wide spectrum of viewpoints, from ex-gays to gay-affirmative Christians and everything in between.
Particularly striking are comments from a poster who identifies himself (I believe it's a himself) as a Ugandan national very much in favor of the bill. In addition to lambasting the other posters for meddling in Uganda's own affairs, the poster expresses flat disbelief that anyone who calls herself a Christian could possibly be against the legislation.
The comments from that poster and from others provoke a startling realization about just how radically apart we who exist in the global body of Christ can be. I write often of fundamental disagreements between believers, but here is a fundamental disagreement of an order rarely seen in present-day US contexts. Indeed, the example of the bill's supporters (which would no doubt include many non-Ugandan Christians such as Fred Phelps) contrasts starkly with most of the pro-family/anti-gay/ex-gay movements here. Compared to people who see homosexuality as worse than murder and homosexuals as richly deserving of death, ex-gay ministries look positively liberal.
Mucking up all of these debates, of course, is the postcolonial context of massive, long-term Western and European interventions into African cultures. Indeed, "interventions" of various sorts (economic, military, governmental, cultural, religious), many of which cloak themselves with the best of intentions, have long defined the West's approach to African affairs, casting "the West" and "Africa" as characters in an old fashioned melodrama. In more recent narratives, the West becomes "intervener"--blessed or tasked with the power (ability, maturity, moral superiority) necessary to save the poor, benighted, self-defeating African nations (who cannot or will not help themselves). Centuries of such unequal roleplay contaminate present-day relations, making the question I've asked in the last few days--how and when to intervene--almost impossible to answer.
That vexed and vexing relationship, however, promises to grow only more pressing throughout this century as the locus of energy for Christianity shifts to the global south. Issues like the current Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Bill--itself redolent with conflicting histories of Christian interventions and counter-interventions--presage similar conflicts yet to come.
This is already apparent in the United Methodist Church.
More tomorrow,
JF
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