Francis back in January, during trip to Manila.

By Gaither Stewart
(with apologies for my digressions)
SECRETIVE MEDIA: IMPARTIALITY AND BIAS REDUX
Conservatives may be using the stiletto against a reformist pontiff.

Dispatch from Rome
23 October 2015
CLICK ON IMAGES FOR BEST RESOLUTION

Last weekend TGP posted here my article, Bias and Objectivity in Journalism, which sparked a number of thought-provoking and wide-ranging comments on various serious subjects, some of which zeroed in on the precise subject of the original article: the degeneration of mainline journalism into the banality of  [putative] impartiality and non-bias. As if willed by the Lord of Chance an event occurred in Rome a few days later that obliged me to return to one aspect of the subject: secrecy in journalism or what the media do not say which they should say.

On the evening of last Wednesday I witnessed 30 minutes of reluctant-to-tell-the-truth TV journalism on one of Italy’s major television newscasts on the “relatively” independent La 7 at 8 p.m., a nightly program conducted by one of the country’s most talented TV journalists, Enrico Mentana.

On that day a sensational news item launched by one of Italy’s oldest newspapers, the centrist daily, Il Resto del Carlino, circulated throughout Italy and quickly re-bounded throughout the world: “Pope Francis is seriously ill… a tumor on the brain.” At that point most media paused before adding that according to the Vatican the tumor was benign, though perhaps inoperable.

Here I should explain that the Vatican, the Holy See and the Papacy itself are pillars of political power in Italy. No Italian government can survive without some sort of accommodation with the Catholic Church. It is not just cheap chatter that many observers (also Italians) believe that the presence of the Vatican in Rome—even in Italy—has long been one of the major obstacles preventing Italy from becoming a “normal” country. Some people would like to see the Papacy back in Avignon where it was installed from 1309 to 1377 (Wikipedia). If not there, then at least in Florence!

The TV journalist Mentana headlined his telecast with the news of the Pope’s putative tumor, explaining then that in the name of good journalism he was obligated to explain both sides of the question. That is, the facts. Shortly afterwards, he reported, the Vatican had issued a strong denial: “The Pope is healthy.” And the Pope himself did not even mention the subject of his health in his usual Wednesday appearance before his enormous flock waiting below his balcony facing St. Peter’s Square.

Francis among Curia members—if it resembles a US president walking into Congress, it is not accidental. Many in the Vatican Curia are essentially politicians. (Click on image for max. resolution.)

At the end of the evening of the telecast and still on the following day the public did not know if the Pope was ill, nor how serious it was … or if he was healthy though he had an inoperable tumor. The billion Catholics of the world only knew that either their Pope was seriously ill (believers here and there were shown crying and wiping their eyes) or that the news was false and the Pope was a healthy man.

[dropcap]O[/dropcap]nly after closer examination has the possibility of a Vatican-inspired conspiracy emerged, a conspiracy of which the general public remains unaware. A conspiracy that concerns more the spiritual health of Pope Francis than a fantomatic brain tumor. Whatever the observer’s personal evaluation of Pope Francis, the Argentinean Jorge Bergoglio is above all an anomalous pope: a modern, open-minded reformist for some, the anti-Christ for others. Most certainly he is unorthodox and for fundamentalists a danger to the continuity and purity of the Roman Catholic Church for which unorthodoxy is synonymous with schism.

Neither a Catholic nor a Vaticanologist myself, I nonetheless misjudged Bergoglio from the start. Because of his close relationship with the brutal military dictatorship in Argentina in the years 1975-83, when he was elected I suspected he would be a super-orthodox pope whose role was to create order in the reigning religious chaos within the World Church and in the war against both Islam and against homosexuality and same-sex marriage. Instead, though still very much the Pope of the Roman Church, he has disconcerted electors especially among the conservative elements that elected him. Also among conservative European Catholics in general who had expected the election of a European, fearful of further decline of the Eurocentrism of the Church so linked to Europe and that at a time when Europe itself had begun to count less and less in the world.

After his election, Pope Bergoglio’s first words to the huge crowd that had waited for hours in a pouring rain on St. Peter’s Square for the outcome of the papal conclave and the name of their new Pope are still memorable: Buona sera! Good evening. During his short greeting the ex-Archbishop of Buenos Aires never referred to himself as Pope but as the Bishop of Rome and asked the faithful to pray for him. Vatican specialists and theologians agreed that his simplicity signaled an authentic change of guard in the Roman Church so fixed in its traditional pomp and ritual.

Pope Francis however had an uphill battle awaiting him within the powerful Roman Curia, that is, the Holy See, allergic as it is to simplicity as to any change or infringement on their power and influence. Today a settling of accounts is in the air. The cynical Curia Romana could even plan to blackmail and call to order Pope Francis because of his silence during the Argentine military dictatorship.

[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o why now a conspiracy against their Pope by Church prelates who hate nothing more than public controversy, except the mere idea of genuine reforms? The current Synod of Bishops convening in Rome may have been the perfect occasion for conservatives. The Synod of Bishops is an advisory body for the popes, a group of bishops from around the world who guarantee for the unity between the Roman Pontiff and Catholic leaders throughout the world chiefly with counsel concerning discipline and continuity of the Roman Catholic Church. This month the bishops are meeting in Rome about the topic of family and marriage, in reality a clash between those conservatives and the progressives who urge reforms on issues such as homosexuality and same-sex marriage. Today it is apparently more than suspicion that the Pope’s tumor rumor was part of a conspiracy not only against Pope Francis but against reformists in general. A sick Pope is a weak Pope.

Traditional views and well-established practices are signs of the true faith in most religions (as well as in ideologies), Resistance to change in doctrine or practice have marked the history of the Roman Catholic Church. Abandonment of traditional beliefs in the name of modernity threatens the continuity of the 2000-year old faith. Conservatives believe that relaxation of rules on pre-marital sex, divorce, contraception, abortion and today homosexuality and same-sex marriage threaten the foundations of the Church.  And Pope Francis, Jorge Bergoglio, with his mixture of secularism and orthodoxy, a Dostoevskian-like pope whose new theology seems to prioritize love of man and the unity of all men over love for the Church, is a mina vagante, a time bomb, threatening the fundamentalists of the Catholic Church. And fundamentalists, we know, are the fanatics, ever alert for deviations, ready for holy war on any front. They have been the masters of secrecy and deception since they were the heretics hiding out from pagan Romans in Rome’s catacombs until the day their Christianity became the official state religion. Centuries later the former heretics formed their own secret tribunals—the Inquisition—and burned at the stake on Rome’s Camp of Flowers doctrinal deviationists like Giordano Bruno.

The life of one Pope is not an impediment to the fundamentalist view of the purity of the faith. After Pope Francis’ views of the Church quickly emerged, no few cynical Romans speculated that he was destined to an early end.

Yet today 1.1 billion Catholics—for whom their Pope is divine, a near god who like other former Pontiffs will also become a Saint—are in the dark. Transparency is a stranger in the corridors of the Vatican. Despite (or because of) the 270 bishops or cardinals and hundreds of specialists and advisers gathered in Rome for the synod, simple believers do not even know their leader is threatened. The Vatican press chief has presented the facts, letters of reassurance of Pope Francis’ health have been dispatched, the world press has been informed, the Japanese specialist who allegedly examined the Pope has been interviewed. Many well-selected facts have been diffused. Today, October 22, Pope Francis closed the gathering with a warning to the fundamentalists: “Times change and the World Church must change without fear.”

Pope Francis meets with Cardinals and Bishops of the Vatican Curia in the Clementine hall at Vatican, Monday, Dec. 22, 2014.

Yet, Catholics of the world remain in the dark as to what is really happening in their Church. Meanwhile, behind the public scenes, schism is in the air. And even though secrecy and mystery have always reigned in the Vatican and the Holy See in Rome and even though the Pope himself cannot control different thinkers in the USA or Germany, the majority of world Catholics are still not used to dissidence within their Church.

The Trojan Spy, Lily Pad Roll) have been published by Punto Press. These are thrillers that have been compared to the best of John le Carré, focusing on the work of Western intelligence services, the stealthy strategy of tension, and the gradual encirclement of Russia, a topic of compelling relevance in our time. He makes his home in Rome, with wife Milena. Gaither can be contacted at gaithers@greanvillepost.com. His latest assignment is as Managing Editor with the Russia Desk.

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It’s unfortunate that in Hinduism the worship of goddesses is sometimes closely associated with bloody animal sacrifices such as the Gadhimai festival in Nepal. This goes against the central Hindu virtue of “ahimsa,” or harmlessness, and stems partly from a misunderstanding of Hindu theology, in which goddesses represent Shakti, the divine feminine principle.

Kali, a violent manifestation of Shakti

As the active force which moves the universe, Shakti is often associated specifically with violent, destructive force, and so some practitioners believe that by indulging in violence and destruction themselves they are worshiping Shakti. This ignores the fact that Hindu spiritual practice is not about blind indulgence, but harnessing and disciplining one’s nature to achieve a higher state of consciousness.

A lone calf, still standing amidst the carnage of Gadhimai

The proper use of violent force, and the dangers of giving it free reign, are both portrayed in the origin story of Kali, one of the most popular goddesses (and sadly, most often sacrificed to). She is said to have come to Earth in order to defeat a plague of demons, but because every drop of blood shed would invariably birth another demon, Kali was forced to drink it in order to prevail. However, she herself then became drunk on the blood, and went on a wild rampage which itself threatened to destroy all life on Earth, necessitating the self-sacrifice of her husband Shiva to quell her bloodlust and bring her to her senses again.

The moral message is clear: even if violence is occasionally necessary against extreme evil, we must always avoid indulging in bloodlust, or else we risk becoming as wicked as the enemy we would seek to defeat. Yet many self-identified Hindus have overlooked or ignored this lesson, and by needlessly slaughtering hundreds of thousands of innocent animals as a form of “worship,” participants in Gadhimai and other sacrifices more closely resemble demons than the goddesses who combat them.

(Featured image: Hindu saint Caitanya preaching to the animals, who dance with joy in his presence)

It’s unfortunate that in Hinduism the worship of goddesses is sometimes closely associated with bloody animal sacrifices such as the Gadhimai festival in Nepal. This goes against the central Hindu virtue of “ahimsa,” or harmlessness, and stems partly from a misunderstanding of Hindu theology, in which goddesses represent Shakti, the divine feminine principle.

Kali, a violent manifestation of Shakti

As the active force which moves the universe, Shakti is often associated specifically with violent, destructive force, and so some practitioners believe that by indulging in violence and destruction themselves they are worshiping Shakti. This ignores the fact that Hindu spiritual practice is not about blind indulgence, but harnessing and disciplining one’s nature to achieve a higher state of consciousness.

A lone calf, still standing amidst the carnage of Gadhimai

The proper use of violent force, and the dangers of giving it free reign, are both portrayed in the origin story of Kali, one of the most popular goddesses (and sadly, most often sacrificed to). She is said to have come to Earth in order to defeat a plague of demons, but because every drop of blood shed would invariably birth another demon, Kali was forced to drink it in order to prevail. However, she herself then became drunk on the blood, and went on a wild rampage which itself threatened to destroy all life on Earth, necessitating the self-sacrifice of her husband Shiva to quell her bloodlust and bring her to her senses again.

The moral message is clear: even if violence is occasionally necessary against extreme evil, we must always avoid indulging in bloodlust, or else we risk becoming as wicked as the enemy we would seek to defeat. Yet many self-identified Hindus have overlooked or ignored this lesson, and by needlessly slaughtering hundreds of thousands of innocent animals as a form of “worship,” participants in Gadhimai and other sacrifices more closely resemble demons than the goddesses who combat them.

(Featured image: Hindu saint Caitanya preaching to the animals, who dance with joy in his presence)

Steve Cooke, author of the “Thrifty Philosopher” blog, in a recent installment entitled “Animal Rights & The Predation Problem” demonstrated the fallacy of attempting to devise a perfectly coherent, all-encompassing ethical philosophy––perhaps especially as regards a topic as diverse as the range of human relationships with animals, across the spectrum of species.

Even the most elegant ethical systems, when taken to logical extremes, lead to absurdities which contradict any normal person’s moral intuition. Examples include the utilitarian theoretical conclusion that a doctor should kill one healthy patient and harvest his organs to save six sick ones; Immanuel Kant’s deontological view that lying is evil even to protect others; or, in this case, that humans are morally obliged to kill predatory animals to save their prey, a perspective which has actually been enshrined in law at various times and places, albeit exempting predation by humans. The agency now known as USDA Wildlife Services, for instance, was originally formed in 1930 as Animal Damage Control, with a mandate to kill wild predators simply because predators kill livestock and hunted species.

Physicists struggle to map universal rules for physical phenomena. The rules they have found mostly take the form of complex mathematical formulae which are believed to be approximately true only under certain conditions. And it is often said that the human brain is the most complex physical system known to exist. Is it not vanity, then, to think that such lofty, abstract things as human thoughts, values, and ideals can be neatly confined to simple logical propositions?

The Japanese Confucian scholar Okada Takehiko, when asked by University of Colorado professor of religious studies Rodney Taylor in 1983 to comment on the issue of animal experimentation and whether it is justified to sacrifice animal lives in developing treatments that might benefit a far greater number of humans, suggested an alternative to relying on rigidly formulated ethical codes in making moral decisions:

“The idea of unlimited use of animals as well as the position that no animals may be used, both of these are extreme ideas. With the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others, the problem will resolve itself. In some cases we need to differentiate between man and animals. In other cases it is important to see man and animals as the same. Thus the cases themselves change, and we need to be able to respond to such circumstances based on the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others.”

Confucian ethical philosophy, which bears some resemblance to Aristotelian virtue ethics in the West, holds that the human conscience––not the rational mind or some external agent such as a deity––is the origin of morality. Thus ethical decisions are best made not primarily through logic, but by cultivating one’s own moral intuition, with logic playing an important but secondary role in the practices of moral self-improvement.

If one practices virtues such as honesty, compassion, and respect in daily life, one will over time become an intrinsically virtuous person. As such, faced with an extreme moral dilemma, one will thus be capable of acting intuitively and making a responsible decision without necessarily relying on logical argumentation.

For Okada, the solution to moral dilemmas involving animals begins not with whether or not animals have intrinsic “rights,” but with the truth that most humans naturally empathize with the suffering of others, including animals––even if this empathy is often blunted or destroyed through cultural conditioning and desensitization.

Just as a Confucian-inspired ethical approach to animal experimentation would begin with a cultivated sense of compassion for both the people and animals involved, the answer to the “predation problem” lies in empathizing not just with the fleeing prey animal, but also with the hungry predator and the entire ecosystem of interconnected creatures of which both are a part.

From this perspective, it would be ethically consistent both to compassionately minimize one’s own exploitation of animals, which may involve anything from subsistence hunting to strict veganism depending on living conditions and resource availability, and to avoid policing nature by interfering with other creatures’ predation of one another.

Also relevant is the issue of associative duties, which Cooke dismisses but Confucianism accepts on the basis that a sense of kinship, and of greater obligation to those closest to oneself, is a natural element of human moral intuition.

A compassionate decision concerning animal experimentation or predation does not necessarily require equal compassion for all parties. Accepted societal obligations toward other humans, not shared with animals in nature, or a special relationship to a given prey animal, for example a pet one feels obligated to protect from coyotes, would also carry weight in a cultivated Confucian moral decision.

But feeling greater responsibility toward one party does not mean one should feel zero responsibility to the other. Even if human health is judged to take priority, that doesn’t mean one should not also work to minimize the use of experimental animals and their suffering. Even if one is obliged to protect his or her dog or cat against a coyote, that does not justify killing the predator if other options are available.

Admittedly this is a very subjective approach to ethics, but it does not require abandoning more logically rigorous philosophical thought. Even in virtue ethics philosophies, the selection of virtues to cultivate is largely guided by rational calculation. Within the legal sphere, which requires clearly-defined rules and penalties equally applicable to everyone, it is certainly safer to base laws on a strict system of ethical maxims than to trust lawmakers and enforcers to always cultivate and follow their own consciences.

Nonetheless, even the most systematic ethical codes are the product of human thought and thus intrinsically subjective and subject to error when applied dogmatically. Inevitably there are exceptions to every rule. This is why juries exist in courtrooms, to provide an element of conscience to correct for the limitations of the law. Confucian writings offer some intriguing proposals for a system of government rooted in moral self-cultivation, but do not disregard the need for consistent governance.

In exercising personal morality, it is best to acknowledge the intrinsic subjectivity of ethics, rather than treating any ethical code as absolute and inviolable. Confucian philosophy teaches how, by practicing virtue in our daily lives, we can develop a moral intuition rooted in––rather than weakened by––such subjectivity, and capable of acting in difficult situations even when philosophy falls short.

This requires the courage to act even when the path is not clear-cut, the humility to admit mistakes and accept that even the best possible decisions may not yield perfect results, and respect for the moral intuition of others who, acting on their own best instincts, may make different choices than oneself.

Steve Cooke, author of the “Thrifty Philosopher” blog, in a recent installment entitled “Animal Rights & The Predation Problem” demonstrated the fallacy of attempting to devise a perfectly coherent, all-encompassing ethical philosophy––perhaps especially as regards a topic as diverse as the range of human relationships with animals, across the spectrum of species.

Even the most elegant ethical systems, when taken to logical extremes, lead to absurdities which contradict any normal person’s moral intuition. Examples include the utilitarian theoretical conclusion that a doctor should kill one healthy patient and harvest his organs to save six sick ones; Immanuel Kant’s deontological view that lying is evil even to protect others; or, in this case, that humans are morally obliged to kill predatory animals to save their prey, a perspective which has actually been enshrined in law at various times and places, albeit exempting predation by humans. The agency now known as USDA Wildlife Services, for instance, was originally formed in 1930 as Animal Damage Control, with a mandate to kill wild predators simply because predators kill livestock and hunted species.

Physicists struggle to map universal rules for physical phenomena. The rules they have found mostly take the form of complex mathematical formulae which are believed to be approximately true only under certain conditions. And it is often said that the human brain is the most complex physical system known to exist. Is it not vanity, then, to think that such lofty, abstract things as human thoughts, values, and ideals can be neatly confined to simple logical propositions?

The Japanese Confucian scholar Okada Takehiko, when asked by University of Colorado professor of religious studies Rodney Taylor in 1983 to comment on the issue of animal experimentation and whether it is justified to sacrifice animal lives in developing treatments that might benefit a far greater number of humans, suggested an alternative to relying on rigidly formulated ethical codes in making moral decisions:

“The idea of unlimited use of animals as well as the position that no animals may be used, both of these are extreme ideas. With the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others, the problem will resolve itself. In some cases we need to differentiate between man and animals. In other cases it is important to see man and animals as the same. Thus the cases themselves change, and we need to be able to respond to such circumstances based on the mind that cannot bear to see the suffering of others.”

Confucian ethical philosophy, which bears some resemblance to Aristotelian virtue ethics in the West, holds that the human conscience––not the rational mind or some external agent such as a deity––is the origin of morality. Thus ethical decisions are best made not primarily through logic, but by cultivating one’s own moral intuition, with logic playing an important but secondary role in the practices of moral self-improvement.

If one practices virtues such as honesty, compassion, and respect in daily life, one will over time become an intrinsically virtuous person. As such, faced with an extreme moral dilemma, one will thus be capable of acting intuitively and making a responsible decision without necessarily relying on logical argumentation.

For Okada, the solution to moral dilemmas involving animals begins not with whether or not animals have intrinsic “rights,” but with the truth that most humans naturally empathize with the suffering of others, including animals––even if this empathy is often blunted or destroyed through cultural conditioning and desensitization.

Just as a Confucian-inspired ethical approach to animal experimentation would begin with a cultivated sense of compassion for both the people and animals involved, the answer to the “predation problem” lies in empathizing not just with the fleeing prey animal, but also with the hungry predator and the entire ecosystem of interconnected creatures of which both are a part.

From this perspective, it would be ethically consistent both to compassionately minimize one’s own exploitation of animals, which may involve anything from subsistence hunting to strict veganism depending on living conditions and resource availability, and to avoid policing nature by interfering with other creatures’ predation of one another.

Also relevant is the issue of associative duties, which Cooke dismisses but Confucianism accepts on the basis that a sense of kinship, and of greater obligation to those closest to oneself, is a natural element of human moral intuition.

A compassionate decision concerning animal experimentation or predation does not necessarily require equal compassion for all parties. Accepted societal obligations toward other humans, not shared with animals in nature, or a special relationship to a given prey animal, for example a pet one feels obligated to protect from coyotes, would also carry weight in a cultivated Confucian moral decision.

But feeling greater responsibility toward one party does not mean one should feel zero responsibility to the other. Even if human health is judged to take priority, that doesn’t mean one should not also work to minimize the use of experimental animals and their suffering. Even if one is obliged to protect his or her dog or cat against a coyote, that does not justify killing the predator if other options are available.

Admittedly this is a very subjective approach to ethics, but it does not require abandoning more logically rigorous philosophical thought. Even in virtue ethics philosophies, the selection of virtues to cultivate is largely guided by rational calculation. Within the legal sphere, which requires clearly-defined rules and penalties equally applicable to everyone, it is certainly safer to base laws on a strict system of ethical maxims than to trust lawmakers and enforcers to always cultivate and follow their own consciences.

Nonetheless, even the most systematic ethical codes are the product of human thought and thus intrinsically subjective and subject to error when applied dogmatically. Inevitably there are exceptions to every rule. This is why juries exist in courtrooms, to provide an element of conscience to correct for the limitations of the law. Confucian writings offer some intriguing proposals for a system of government rooted in moral self-cultivation, but do not disregard the need for consistent governance.

In exercising personal morality, it is best to acknowledge the intrinsic subjectivity of ethics, rather than treating any ethical code as absolute and inviolable. Confucian philosophy teaches how, by practicing virtue in our daily lives, we can develop a moral intuition rooted in––rather than weakened by––such subjectivity, and capable of acting in difficult situations even when philosophy falls short.

This requires the courage to act even when the path is not clear-cut, the humility to admit mistakes and accept that even the best possible decisions may not yield perfect results, and respect for the moral intuition of others who, acting on their own best instincts, may make different choices than oneself.