Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Good Charlotte?


Tom Wolfe attacks the collegians in his recent I Am Charlotte Simmons, a walloping 676 pages of intricate satire. The setting is fictional Dupont University, a school that embodies the intelligentsia and prestige of Harvard and the athleticism of Notre Dame. The eponymous character is Charlotte Simmons, a “down-home” freshman from rural South Carolina. She has taken only two things with her to college: the memory of her complete academic domination in secondary education (she being the first student from her high school to attend Dupont); and the moral consciousness fashioned by her Bible-believing and simple mother. Ostensibly, then, the narrative conflict occurs between Charlotte with her quaint values and Dupont with its educational philosophy mirroring that of many major universities in America today.

Wolfe provides us with some information on the intellectual currents popular at Dupont. He prefaces the book with the notation that one of the teachers at Dupont, the neuroscientist Mr. Starling, won the Nobel Prize for his work on a famous experiment. Starling performed amygdalectomies on thirty cats, after which they became unremittingly concupiscent. A control group, untouched but left in the vicinity of the amygdalectomized cats, eventually began to mimic the behavior of the test group. Starling’s resulting theory indicated that external stimuli, such as social interaction or even physical manipulation of brain matter (as a later class lecture reveals), causes the individual animal or human to do, and even intend to do, different things. Starling concludes with José Delgado that the soul is merely a “soul”: nothing more than a “useful illusion” or a “transient composite of materials from the environment.”

Across campus, another intellectual viewpoint can be ascertained in the history teacher, Mr. Quat. A product of the upheavals of the 1960s, Quat is ultra-liberal, fervently politically correct (when it suits him), and will not abide the current degradation of the campus as it eases academic requirements for its basketball stars. He is portrayed as principled and consistent, although by the end we find this to be an illusion. His philosophy has as its ending point the lone individual, the person nondescript and washed of any outstanding physical, social, or cultural traits. Both of these currents, the neuroscientific and the politically correct, form two heads of the Hydra that has overtaken Dupont. Rather than show its students a more excellent way, as its forebears did, the school instead teaches them that nothing is sacred, the Nietzschean will to power being all that life offers.

As Mark Bowden in The Atlantic Monthly (April 2006) has helpfully pointed out, the above-mentioned feline experimentation foreshadows the social situation at Dupont. In this case, the basketball team, composed of dull “mercenaries” whose only purpose at the school is to win NCAA championships, is the amygdalectomized test group. The control group is the student body proper. Predictably, the student body has conformed its social paradigm to the coarse, thoughtless, sex-crazed, and altogether deplorable example given by the basketball team. Students converse in the “Fuck Patois,” a dialect surprisingly effective, given the limited number of words available (Beware: Simmons is one of the crudest contributions to serious literature I have seen). The competitive drive exhibited by the sports team has infected the rest of campus, in the form of social elitism. The fraternities and sororities display a heightened version of this elitism. Nobody unfashionable or “dorky” is worthy of their attention. Few students are interested in relationships with ends beyond copulation. Intimate relations are to be developed immediately, with minimal exertion, and can be deserted on impulse. “Insouciance” is the most valued character trait. Sarcasm and derision rule.

Into all of this steps Charlotte Simmons, the bright and shining student who is capable and willing to buck the system and, in doing so, define herself against it. But this is not what Wolfe has in mind. The attentive reader will realize that Charlotte is as entwined in Dupont's materialist philosophy as anyone. She may be a product of her mother’s moral convictions, but she does not have the religious beliefs to back them up; and thus she abandons them when necessary. Instead, the conflict is within Charlotte’s own mind: her desire for love fights against the ingrained dogmas that souls do not exist, social recognition outmodes relationships, and the will to power is all that matters. This conflict is played out as Charlotte sifts her way through relationships with three very different males, each vying for her affection.

One of the delightful aspects of Wolfe’s prose is its attention to detail. He has perfected the technique of inserting into the narrative short phrases or words that recall earlier episodes. In many cases, this serves to tie together themes and enlighten the careful reader. I received the impression that nothing is wasted – that even passing references to earlier events contribute to Wolfe’s purpose. For example, the humorous sketch of the sorority girls’ orders of sarcasm (“Sarc 1, Sarc 2, Sarc 3”) is evoked several times throughout the book. One gets the feeling that Wolfe himself uses these categories as he levels his critique at Dupont and its regnant social and intellectual ideas.

Wolfe also produces many interesting asides with his imagery. One example of this is the juxtaposition of the basketball coach’s office building with Starling’s building. Both buildings are sparkling new monuments to the men who dwell within them; one is devoted to athletics, the other to intellectual pursuits. From the tones of key characters, one would expect a contrast between the inanity of Dupont’s interest in sports with a more “correct” interest in modern science. However, the imagery betrays Wolfe’s real opinion that the two institutions, while seemingly opposed to each other, are merely different manifestations of the same dismal philosophy: power and prestige matter more than content. Rule or be ruled.

Alongside clever imagery, the reader also encounters many minor themes, anecdotes, and set pieces – too many, in fact, to do justice to here. Wolfe enjoys himself as he spots delicious ironies and humorous situations, and then exploits them for all they are worth. There is much in the book that may be missed at first glance.

Throughout, Wolfe indicts current intellectual attitudes and, as alluded to earlier, operates in the mode of satire: attacking and ridiculing the subject by exaggerating its influence in a fictional setting. Dupont’s underlying intellectual current is real enough, but the practical outworkings of its philosophy have been taken to their logical extremes. This, thankfully, has not yet occurred in our nation’s universities. And, if the author’s warning is heeded, perhaps it never will.

By the end, the reader may be left wondering who has prevailed: Charlotte or Dupont. In my reading, Charlotte beats Dupont at its own game. Unfortunately, the rules of the game have been set beforehand by Dupont. Charlotte becomes a master in an arena of slaves and she knows – even accepts – this. But she never looks beyond herself in order to ascend toward something higher, something that would mold and shape her into a better person. In the larger picture, Dupont bests her. The unease with which she inhabits her new position of prominence at the end of the novel is indicative of the yearning that each human being has for something more. She still seeks the “ghost in the machine,” even though the roar of popularity and attention drowns it out. Beneath the mask of a happy ending (which fooled a number of reviewers), Wolfe has shown us that life under a postmodern, materialist rubric cannot win and, if it does, humanity loses.

- Roger Dixon

Thursday, March 09, 2006

The Emergent Church



Justin has submitted another piece, this one discussing two books (a first for us): Brian McClaren's A Generous Orthodoxy and D.A. Carson's Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church. The review searches for a touchstone between the two, as it seeks to understand what has been called the Emergent Church. - RD

Having grown up in the church, my ears perk up every time I hear someone talking about it. If there is a church discussion going on in the café of my university, I am there. Although I consider myself to be under theological duress when it comes to the issue, I hold valuable the ability to properly understand this strange thing we call “church.” This feeling seems to be shared by the two individuals under review. Each has engaged in a critical discussion regarding the changing face of American society and how the people of God should react.

The discussion begins with Brian McLaren, often considered to be the poster boy of the Emergent Church movement, and his theological manifesto entitled A Generous Orthodoxy. The book has raised the eyebrows of several prominent theologians in recent years. One of these is D.A. Carson, professor of New Testament at Trinity Evangelical School, and a well-known, published evangelical theologian. Carson recently came out with a book entitled Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church: Understanding a Movement and Its Implications, which offers a broad critique of the movement and its theological/historical implications. Although both writers offer “packaged” material (which I will attempt to explain later), they contribute significant insights on the nature and consequences of the “postmodern” event.

An initial note on style is in order. McLaren’s book is anything but a concise theological treatise, although at times it may seem so. His intentions, as stated in the book, are what could be called “postcritical:” he attempts to be honest, choosing to divine the good, rather than the bad, in all he criticizes. He states, “If I seem to show too little respect for your opinions or thought, be assured I have equal doubts about my own, and I don’t mind if you think I’m wrong.” On the flip side, Carson’s critique is literarily acute and philosophically incisive. Becoming Conversant reconstructs McLaren’s thoughts by attaching critical theological frameworks to his supposed conclusions. Thus do two pertinent questions arise, which I will attempt to answer: 1) What is McLaren attempting to say? and 2) How does Carson interpret this?

First, though, I would like to offer a critique on the ever-elusive connotation of the word experience. In Becoming Conversant, Carson unconsciously suggests a dichotomy that in recent decades has come under attack by prominent religious philosophers. He states “For almost everyone within the [Emergent] movement, this works [towards an] emphasis on feelings and affections over against linear thought and rationality; on experience over against truth; on inclusion over against exclusion…” Although I understand what Carson is trying to say, his dichotomies are philosophically weak. Although I am sure Carson is well-versed in postmodern/deconstructionist philosophy, it seems that he glosses over one of the most important points made by the movement: namely that such dichotomies do not exist. Many contemporary philosophers are recognizing that this apparent dualistic structure within human existence, which has been assumed for centuries, is actually monistic. There is no such thing as a strict “linear thought and rationality.” Our affections influence and direct us; these, in turn, are mitigated by our “rational,” or sober, thoughts. In this respect, the Emergent Church is trying to move towards, not merely reemphasize, a holistic-minded perspective. Thus, Carson identifies the shift as an “over and against,” where McLaren sees it as an attempt for humans to live out how they really are anyway. “Experience and truth” are one in the same. Although I understand what Carson is suggesting, his presuppositions about the “natural state of things” are inherently faulty. To suggest that the Emergent Church movement is moving away from “propositional truth” is precisely right, because many of its adherents have recognized that there is no such thing as propositional truth. They exist merely as bearers of authentic truth, which is packaged within an event (i.e. experience). Truth cannot be known apart from experience. Therefore, a profession of faith in Jesus Christ as Son of God is predicated on the hope that the person making this profession has had an encounter with that reality. Furthermore, Carson’s suggested relation of inclusion vs. exclusion, in itself presupposes that humans are in control of who is included and excluded. Although he uses rather vague terms, what he refers to could be redefined as the shift from a “holier than thou” mentality, to one that says, “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

Carson’s statement comes packaged with a sort of theological elitism, which seems to have completed its course and is now memorialized in the pages of A Generous Orthodoxy as the fuel behind McLaren’s polemical fire. The Church, for centuries, had convinced itself that a semi-permeable policy is the best way to go, in which some are in and some are out. Of course, this attitude is preceded by the belief that we as Christians have things figured out and the secular society does not. It may be that Carson sees this as a beneficial policy because it keeps the impostors out of the church and enables the body of believers to grow in a healthy relationship with God.

The Emergent Church movement seems to suggest otherwise. For it, the Church is meant to be a place full of security breaches. The possible dangerous outcomes that were once insinuated by the church turn out to be feelings of distrust, namely distrust in the power of God. It is own eyes, the Emergent Church’s move towards an inclusive mindset is an attempt to toss in the towel and let God work; a strategy that should have been employed all along. It sees Carson’s dichotomies as façades developed by the hands of ungodly people – people who, after centuries of attempting to control the hearts of men, are now seeing their tethers snap at an astonishing pace.

There is something else I believe Carson did not take into consideration when writing his critique. His response to McLaren includes warnings against hyperbole, individual extremism and abusing the gospel as a result of subjectivism. However, he seems to be aiming past McLaren here, who has admittedly written matter-of-factly and experientially. Carson deals by the books, McLaren speaks from coffee shop conversations; there is no common ground on which to base an argument.

Lastly, I would call into question one of Carson’s choice words for McLaren. Carson believes that McLaren is being manipulative and that his work should be regarded as the ranting of an “angry young man” rather than that of learned/refined theologian. The reason Carson provides for this is that McLaren appeals to our “lower senses" – our own experience. Carson suggests that McLaren says, in effect, we should all think as he does and abandon our own myopic views of Christianity. This was not my impression. McLaren, if anything, incited the reader to rethink his or her own experiences. A Generous Orthodoxy leaves room for one to doubt Christian orthodoxy without automatically turning into a heretic. Regarding the methodology of Carson’s critique, I think he would have been better off attempting to show what the real faith implications of McLaren’s conclusions are, rather than critiquing the conclusions themselves.

I enjoyed the exchange, but it seems to me that McLaren and Carson are working on two different planes. McLaren attempts to “do theology” in a new way while Carson uses “time honored” theological tools to rip him to shreds. Although I would agree with Carson on many points, he seems to be suggesting that only “correct” language be used in theological/philosophical discussions and that it is the responsibility of the polemicist to “act responsibly.” I imagine Carson had trouble reading McLaren due to his unpolished approach and flowery prose. Interestingly, the fifty-something McLaren has a style not far removed from the rantings of a frustrated 21 year-old (like myself). His remarks are geared toward disillusioned white-neo-orthodox-Protestant males holding on to an idea of diminishing intellectual credibility in the postmodern marketplace. Even so, I hope his honesty has raised some eyebrows throughout the Church.

- Justin D'Agostino