In scholarship, we need to use constructed categories and
metaphors – they are simply how one thing can be translated – using the unknown
to express the known. However, one needs to be careful how metaphors are used.
While we can hide behind the idea that metaphor is the best way to communicate
an idea, data does not really show that. In most cases, metaphor is unnecessary
for understanding. It is usually not too difficult to simply state an idea in
direct language without the use of a metaphor. Metaphor, instead, has a
completely different purpose of a mnemonic device. It is usually easier to
recall a particular metaphor rather than a robust idea. However, many modern
scholars have made this mistake – they somehow think that a metaphor can make a
complex thing simple. Something that is complex is complex – no way of
translating it differently will make it less complex. In fact, in their attempt
to do so, they frequently state things in ways that are foreign to the idea
they are expressing. What is worse, it often occurs that the metaphor becomes a
“controlling metaphor” and starts to define
the points they are trying to express. I argue that just such a controlling
metaphor has been used and needs to be abandoned – that of the metaphor of a
“parasite” in the realm of ideas and practice. What is meant in the metaphor of
a parasite very rarely illustrates the data that it is applied toward, and
instead controls and even creates a negative judgment on the material it
describes.
To illustrate this point I present the first example of the
use of this term from Michael Allen Gillespie discussing post-enlightenment
thinking that sought to stray from nominalism, scholasticism, and humanism.
Rather, he argues that two seemingly atheistic ideas were presented to solve
the problem of free will with a transcendent God – most notably by eliminating
the transcendent God. He argues, however, that these views are not actually atheistic
at all and are in fact “parasitic”
upon religious tradition. Consider his view:
While these strains [i.e. of one
group who argued that both natural motion and human motion would spring from a
common source and therefore free expression of the will would be driven by an
overarching world-spirit that unites all things of the other group of natural
scientists who argue that motion of matter as an interplay of natural forces
thus predetermining cause and will within that naturalistic framework]of post-Enlightenment
thought thus offer different answers to the problem of the antinomy, neither
offers (nor can offer) an account of the whole that is both consistent and
complete. Each thus produces a partial explanation that achieves coherence by
sacrifices completeness or achieves completeness by sacrificing consistency.
While both are generally considered to be atheistic from a traditional
Christian point of view, each is in fact parasitic on the Christian worldview.
This is obvious in the case of the idea of a world-spirit, but it is equally
true of the notion of natural causality that derives the certainty of the
necessary concatenation of events from the notion of divine predetermination.[1]
Note how Gillespie uses the term “parasitic” here. He argues
that because these secular positions – namely positions that are developed from
Christian ideas – are parasitic. He argues this because he sees connective
tissue not just from the idea that there is a purpose in the world, but that
there is actually connection between these solutions and the two Christian
positions of humanism and nominalism.
The question, though, is whether this is truly “parasitic.”
When the “parasite” metaphor is used, it implies that a view cannot exist
without the other view to feed upon (like unto a parasite does a host).
Further, it suggests that the view feeds off of the nutrition and body of the
previous idea – much like a parasite with a host. What is more, the view can
never exist independently – all parasites must have a host – they therefore
will either transfer from host to host or keep the host alive enough to use it
as a continued source of sustenance. Finally, a parasite is something that is
foreign to the host and is introduced from the outside world – suggesting that
this view is separate from the original view but somehow subjected itself into
the view and exists based upon that original idea.
I do not believe that Gillespie meant to include all of
these above points. For instance, the final one is exactly opposite his point –
rather than suggesting that post enlightenment views were separate from
Christian reformation views, he argues that they were fundamentally the same
and came from the same source. Second, it is nowhere clear that the
post-enlightenment views could not stand on their own. What is more, it is not
at all clear that these post-enlightenment views needed the previous views of
nominalism, scholasticism, or humanism to be simultaneously present (as would a
parasite) to exist. In fact, Gillespie’s whole point is that they have replaced
those views.
When one looks carefully at Gillespie, the only thing that
really fits with the “parasite” idea is that it took the ideas from a previous
idea (the way a parasite takes nutrition from a host). However, that is where
the analogy stops. Gillespie then argues that post-enlightenment views took the
ideas and then moved on to be independent ideas – even though they always were
indebted to that original group. This is exactly what a parasite does not do. A parasite does not exist on its
own. That something has a source which borrows from something previous does not
imply a parasite. That simply implies borrowing.
A second example of how this metaphor is used
inappropriately is constructive. Consider Christian Smith’s view of how
Moralistic Therapeutic Deism (the idea that religion is encapsulated in basic
ethics and feeling good)[2]
is a parasite upon standard Christian traditions. Smith, to his credit, tries
to take the metaphor more seriously and does describe why he bothers to bring
it up. Consider the way it is used:
Indeed, this religious creed
appears to operate as a parasitic faith. It cannot sustain its own integral,
independent life; rather it must attach itself like an incubus to established
historical religious traditions, feeding on their doctrines and sensibilities,
and expanding by mutating their theological substance to resemble its own
distinctive image…These may be either devout followers or mere nominal
believers of their respective traditional faiths, but they often have some
connection to an established historical faith tradition that this alternative
faith feeds on and gradually co-opts if not devours. Believers in each larger
tradition practice their own versions of this otherwise common parasitic
religion…Each of the believers then can think of themselves as belonging to the
specific religious tradition they name as their own – Catholic, Baptist,
Jewish, Mormon, whatever – while simultaneously sharing the cross-cutting, core
beliefs of their de facto common Moralistic Therapeutic Deist faith. In effect,
these believers get to enjoy whatever particulars of their own faith heritages
that appeal to them, while also reaping the benefits of this shared,
harmonizing, interfaith religion.[3]
Here, Smith tries to be responsible with his metaphor.
However, serious questions need to be asked as to whether or not this is
appropriate. First, nowhere in Smith’s book does he show that MTD cannot exist
without traditional faith. In fact, he himself cites a fascinating article on
the “paradoxical growth of the liberal church” by Jay Demerath.[4] Demerath argues that the liberal
church’s membership is waning precisely because their worldview is being
accepted. People are able to hold their worldview without identifying with the church any longer. MTD then, is no
parasite – it clearly can and is standing alone. Second, much like Gillespie,
Smith does not take seriously that parasites are from without and work their
way into a group. Smith, much like Gillespie, argues that MTD developed
precisely from within liberal Protestantism’s attitudes about how God interacts
with the world.
Smith does do one thing well – he does try to address the
problem of how a parasite feeds off of the host and thereby affects the host.
However, his metaphor struggles – how is it that a parasite changes the host
and makes it something different? The whole point of a parasite is that it is
not the host and does not change the character of the host. That would be less
a parasite and more a skin graft – something that was not part of a being which
has now become and changed the identity of
that being.
It appears that both Smith and Gillespie use the metaphor
with the primary purpose of saying that these independent ideas were secondary
and their original source was clearly from a previous idea – they simply have
been separated so long that people no longer recognize them as such. However,
that is precisely what a parasite cannot
do.
The problem, here, is one of metaphor. Metaphors can be
quite helpful. In fact, they are nearly necessary in good communication. Ellen
Muehlenberger shows this clearly in her review of Boin’s Coming Out Christian:
Metaphors are excellent tools for
comprehension, to be sure. Seeing a familiar pattern in what is unfamiliar is
often the first step toward understanding something new; that pattern can be a
handle to hold on to as we explore new and unpredictable territory. Metaphors
are able to do this work because they are similar to the target to be
explained, but they are by design not identical. Two things are compared, but
the two are never a perfect match. Every metaphor comes with limits, places
where it stops yielding information, and that is just a feature of the tool: no
metaphor can truly account for the thing it is said to be like.[5]
Here this is the reality of every metaphor.
It could be argued that I am being too harsh here; however,
the problem is not that the metaphor has limits, it is that the concept of
“parasite” has taken over understanding and is controlling the idea rather than
illustrating it. Muehlenberger argues this same idea when critiquing Boin’s
metaphor of Christians in the Roman Empire being like homosexuals in the modern
world “coming out”:
One could think of all of these as
just instances of the author being clever — oh, the satire, or even the camp,
that lies latent in describing ancient Christians as if they were
twentieth-century homosexuals! — but Boin clearly means to do more than just
provoke. The concept of “coming out” is necessary to his argument, as it
provides the solution to the unresolved historical problem that sits
uncomfortably at the center of the book. That problem is simple: if quieter
Christians did exist, they left very little evidence of their
carefully-calibrated lives. In fact, evidence of Christianity of any sort,
strident or respectable, is rather thin for the first three centuries of the
common era. But, if there were masses of Christians who simply chose not to be
public about their identities — that is, Christians were careful about when and
whether they “came out” — then that problem goes away.[6]
Here is what has happened with the “parasite” – it controls
the rhetoric. It suggests that the problem of understanding the motivation for
a phenomenon is over. Rather than suggesting that the rise of an idea came from
varied sources and is using legitimized ideas in a dynamic way, it simply
states that a precedent in the past created this thing in the present. This now
is no longer illustrating, it is now constraining.
The problem with this is that this type of metaphor reflects
a more unsettling attitude. It is the idea that a complex idea can become very
simple if we simple view it from the proper angle. Muehlenberger summarizes the
issue:
All metaphors have their limits.
What, then, is the harm if this one does not live up to its hype? In its
reliance on a single, uncomplicated move — applying the language of a modern
phenomenon to an ancient one — Coming Out Christian bears a resemblance to a
genre of writing that, to my knowledge, has not yet been named but is
ubiquitous, especially in new media journalism. This genre depends on the
belief that subjects that appear difficult to understand are not, in reality,
difficult at all. They simply require a shift in perspective, a tip, a tiny key
to unlock them.[7]
This is magic bullet thinking at its worst. It is the idea
that if we look hard enough at a complex idea, we will find a particular
metaphor that explains it all very simply. It is something that is at best lazy
– rather than working hard and challenging ourselves to find new
understandings, we can simply find some small little avenue to find
understanding without having to go to all the work of understanding. One is
essentially asking to gain understanding without learning.
Finally, metaphors have connotations. I have stated above
all of the denotations of what a parasite consists of. The connotation,
however, is that parasites are “bad.” This connotation is almost certainly what
both Gillespie and Smith are hoping for when they use the metaphor. They think
that post enlightenment atheistic thought and Moralistic Therapeutic Deism,
respectively, are negative things that should be avoided – much like parasites.
This is the most troubling of the use of the metaphor. It is a way for scholars
– who are supposed to approach everything with both a hermeneutic of respect
and suspicion – to denigrate something while not actually denigrating it. It is
a very clever approach of condemning a practice while claiming to be
objectively analyzing it. I am not opposed to scholars taking positions on
topics – I think scholarship could use more of that, not less; however, if one
is going to make a statement, it is absolutely necessary to actually make the
statement. If Christian Smith wants to argue that MTD is a problem, that is
fine – but have the courage to actually say that and subsequently own it. Don’t
allow a metaphor to provide nods and winks about what is intended.
[1] Michael
Allen Gillespie, The Theological Origins
of Modernity (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 280.
[2] Smith
provides five characteristics of MTD:
1. God exists who created and
orders the world and watches over human life on earth.
2. God wants people to be good,
nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world
religions.
3. The central goal of life is to
be happy and to feel good about oneself.
4. God does not need to be
particularly involved in one’s life except when God is needed to resolve a
problem.
5. Good people go to heaven
when they die
See Christian Smith, Soul
Searching: the Religion and Spiritual Lives of American Teenagers (Oxford;
New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 162-163.
[3] Smith, Soul Searching, 166.
[4] N. Jay
Demerath, “Cultural Victory and Organizational Defeat in the Paradoxical
Decline of Liberal Protestantism” Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 34.4 (1995): 458-69.
[5] Ellen Muehlenberger
“Metaphor and Its Limits: on Douglas Boin Coming
Out Christian in the Roman World” Book Review. Marginalia Review of Books (http://marginalia.lareviewofbooks.org/metaphor-and-its-limits-by-ellen-muehlberger/).
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
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