Faith & Doubt

Faith (pronounced feyth)

(1) Confidence or trust in a person, thing, or abstraction.

(2) A belief based not on proof.

(3) Belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion.

(4) Belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit etc.

(5) A system of religious belief.

(6) The obligation of loyalty or fidelity to a person, promise, engagement, etc.

(7) The observance of this obligation; fidelity to one's promise, oath, allegiance etc.

(8) A female given name.

(9) As (usually in) bad faith, insincerity or dishonesty, as (usually in) good faith, honesty or sincerity, as of intention in business.

10) Indeed; really (also in the phrases by my faith, in faith) (archaic).

1200-1250: From the Middle English faith, fayth, feith & feyth (also fay, fey, fei (faith) from the Old French fay, fey, fei, feit, & feid (faith), from the Latin fidēs (faith, belief, trust (from which English gained fidelity), from fīdō (trust, confide in), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European bheidth (from bheydth) (to command, persuade, trust (from which English gained bide).  The Middle English forms ending in -th are thought perhaps to represent an alteration of the earliest French form feid under influence of other abstract nouns in -th (truth, ruth, health et al) but may have been formed instead from the more usual Old French forms fay, fey, fei etc. with the English suffix added (also due to assimilation to other nouns in -th), thus making the word equivalent to fay +‎ -th.  The theological sense dates only from the late fourteenth century although religions had been referred to as faiths since circa 1300.  The adjective multifaith (written often now as multi-faith) is a most recent addition.

Before Broken English:  Marianne Faithful (b 1946), Faithless (1978 NEMS Cat: NEL 6012), repackaged re-release of Dreamin' My Dreams (1976).

Doubt (pronounced dout)

(1) To be uncertain about; consider questionable or unlikely; hesitate to believe.

(2) To distrust.

(3) To fear; be apprehensive about (archaic).

(4) A feeling of uncertainty about the truth, reality, or nature of something.

(5) A state of affairs such as to occasion uncertainty.

(6) In philosophy, the methodical device, especially in the writings of Descartes, of identifying certain knowledge as the residue after rejecting any proposition which might, however improbably, be false.

(7) In theology (and, in earlier times, among poets), a technical device for addressing problems with faith.

1175-1225:  From Middle English douten drawn from Anglo-French and Old French douter or doter, derived from Latin dubitāre (to waver, hesitate, be uncertain (frequentative of Old Latin dubāre)).  Final Latin form was dubium (plural dubia) and the Old English was doute.  Douten entirely replaced the Middle English tweonien (to doubt) which was derived from the Old English twēonian.  The Old French doter from the Latin dubitāre reflected how the meaning had changed in Latin; related to dubius (from which English picked up dubious) meant originally "to have to choose between two things."  The sense of "fear" developed in Old French and was passed on to English. Meaning "to be uncertain" is attested in English from circa 1300.  Related forms are doubtable (adjective), doubtably (adverb), doubter (noun), doubtingly (adverb) and doubtingness (noun).  Most popular today is doubtlessly or doubtless.  English doubtlessly has tended to the permissive.  Where a clause follows doubt in a positive sentence, until well into the twentieth century, it was correct only to use whether but if and that are now acceptable.  In negative statements, doubt is followed by that.  The old practice of using but (as in “I do not doubt but that she speaks truth”) is wholly redundant.

Faith and doubt:  The four dubia cardinals, the pope and the hint of heresy

On 19 September 2016, a letter from Cardinals Carlo Caffarra (1938-2017), Walter Brandmüller (b 1929), Raymond Burke (b 1948) & Joachim Meisner (1933-2017) was delivered to the pope and the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (the old Holy Office or Inquisition).  Technically, the letter was a dubia, a respectful request for clarification regarding about certain established teachings which appeared to be challenged by recent events in or statements from the Holy See (especially Pope Francis' (b 1936; pope since 2013) 2016 post-synodal apostolic exhortation Amoris laetitia (The Joy of Love) concerned with the pastoral care of families).  Phrased as five questions, the cardinals asked (1) Whether those living in sin were now to be granted Holy Communion, (2) Whether the Church had overturned Saint John Paul II’s (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005) 1993 encyclical Veritatis splendor (The Splendor of the Truth) which laid down certain fundamentals of the Church's role in moral teaching, (3) Whether there were changes in what constituted certain sins, (4) Whether circumstances or intentions can now transform an act intrinsically evil by virtue of its object into an act subjectively good or defensible as a choice and (5), Whether the church no longer excludes any creative interpretation of the role of conscience and now accepts that conscience can be authorized to permit legitimate exceptions to absolute moral norms that prohibit intrinsically evil acts by virtue of their object?  The issues raised were matters of vital interest inside the curia, to theologians and certain other clergy and, though seeming perhaps a little arcane to many, are actually fundamental to the very nature of the Church.

Faith and research: Lindsay Lohan with Qur'an, April 2016.

Of interest too was the structural question: the authority of the pope.  The cardinals' view was that a pope's duty is to defend and preserve the doctrines and teachings of the church, these being eternal and unchanging.  The alternative view is the pope is the bishop at the head of an absolute theocracy.  So, when speaking on matters of doctrine concerning faith or morals to be held by the whole Church, the pope's authority is absolute and he is held to be infallible.  Use of this power is called speaking ex cathedra, (the Latin cathedra and sedes translate as "chair", a historic symbol from Antiquity for a teacher and one preserved in academia for the office of professor, and the "see" of a bishopric.  The significance of ex cathedra (from the chair) is that a pope occupies the "chair of Peter" (the "Holy See") by virtue of being the successor of Peter himself.  Saint Peter being held to be, ex-officio, the spokesman of Christ (and therefore, as the "Vicar of Christ on Earth" speaking the words of God) and every pope since has fulfilled this role), a matter long assumed even before it was declared at the First Vatican Council (Vatican I;1869-1870).  Although invoked formally only once since, papal infallibility remains as a pope's thermo-nuclear option in these matters.

The dispute remains afoot because Pope Francis neither acknowledged nor replied to the cardinals' respectful dubia.  Less deferential was another letter delivered some months later in which several dozen Catholic theologians, priests and academics went further than the cardinals and formally accused Pope Francis of spreading heresy, a document the like of which hadn't been sent to a pope since the 1300s.  Stunningly, it was one step short of actually accusing the pontiff of being a heretic.  The squabble may last at least as long as Francis' pontificate although, unfortunately, in these modern times, it can no longer be resolved by Inquisition having accusers burned at the stake.  Francis has proved a quick learner in the handling of social media and, perhaps borrowing from the Anglicans, appears to feel some problems are best solved by pretending they don't exist although it may be he simply didn't see the point, recalling the words of world-weary Benedict XIV (1675–1758; pope 1740-1758): "The pope commands, his cardinals do not obey, and the people do what they wish."  He ignored the theologians’ letter.

Interestingly though, early in 1919, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI (b 1927; pope 2005-2013, pope emeritus since), although without mentioning the five dubia, did respond and his words would have pleased the two cardinals still alive.  His answers were an unambiguous (1) no, (2) no, (3) no, (4) no and (5) no.  With a Benedictine certainty reminiscent of Pius IX's (1792–1878; pope 1846-1878) Syllabus Of Errors (1864), he spoke of a “...crisis of morality…, the hypothesis that morality was to be exclusively determined by the purposes of human action..." to the point there could no longer be said to be any "...absolute good, any more than anything fundamentally evil; (there could be) only relative value judgements”  He warned of the risk of a world in which there was “…no longer was (there an absolute good), but only the relatively better, contingent on the moment and on circumstances..."  He’s discussed this theme before: that a church of true-believers is better than one that just accepts what happens to suit whoever wishes to join the club.  Benedict didn’t say it but he may think if that’s what people want, they may as well become Anglicans, his documented opinion that a smaller Church which remains pure is preferable to one larger but corrupted by the falsehoods post-modernist structures claim as moral and intellectual equivalents of traditional teachings.

Nor did he add the words of Pius IX which so many see when reading between the lines the pope emeritus has written during the pontificate of Francis: "If a future pope teaches anything contrary to the Catholic faith, do not follow him". 

Faith and Doubt in the Century's Poets, Edited by Richard A Armstrong (1843-1905), Bib ID 2635856, James Clarke & Co, London, 1898, pp136.

Percy Bysshe Shelley: The spirit of revolt.
William Wordsworth: Revelation through nature and man.
Arthur Hugh Clough: Between the old faith and the new.
Alfred Tennyson: The larger hope.
Matthew Arnold: The eternal note of sadness.
Robert Browning: Faith triumphant.

The nineteenth century can be thought a truly scientific age and the discoveries revealed provoked much writing about the defensibility of a faith based upon much shown to be impossible or at least improbable.  While poets agonized, theologians rationalized where they could, finding allegory and analogy useful devices to explain where they could the less plausible passages of scripture and for everything else offered a fudge: “you need not believe it but you must accept it.”

Pisteology

Pisteology (pronounced pi-stol-uh-jee)

(1) In theology, the branch dealing with the place and authority of faith.

(2) In philosophy, a theory or science of faith.

Circa 1870s: From the German Pisteologie, the construct being the Ancient Greek πίστις (píst(is)) (faith) + -eo- (faith) (akin to peíthein to persuade) + -logie.  The English form is thus understood as píst(is) +-e-‎ + -ology.  The Ancient Greek noun πίστις (pístis) (faith) was from the Primitive Indo-European bheydhtis, the construct being πείθω (peíthō) (I persuade) +‎ -τις (-tis); πεῖσῐς (peîsis) was the later formation.  Although in English constructions it’s used as “faith” (in the theological sense), in the original Greek it could impart (1) trust in others, (2) a belief in a higher power, (3) the state of being persuaded of something: belief, confidence, assurance, (4) trust in a commercial sense (credit worthiness), (5) faithfulness, honesty, trustworthiness, fidelity, (6) that which gives assurance: treaty, oath, guarantee, (7) means of persuasion: argument, proof and (8) that which is entrusted.  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism et al).  The alternative spellings are pistology & pistiology.  Pisteology is a noun and pisteological is an adjective; the noun plural is pisteologies.

The early use of pisteology was in the context of theology and it appears in an 1880 essay on the matter of faith by the Congregational minister Alfred Cave (1847–1900).  The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) refers to the word as exclusively theological but in later editions noted it was also used to mean “a theory or science of faith”, reflecting its adoption in academic philosophy although the embrace must have been tentative because pisteology was (and remains) “rare”, listed as such by those lexicographers who give it a mention though what is clear is that it seems never to have been cross-cultural, remaining implicitly a thing of Christendom.  In a sense, it’s surprising it hasn’t appeared more, especially in the troubled twentieth century when matters of “faith and doubt” were questioned and explored in a flurry of published works.  Perhaps it was a division of academic responsibility, the devoted studying belief and the scholars the institution, the pragmatic settling for the Vatican’s (unofficial) fudge: “You don’t have to believe it but you must accept it.”

Pondering cross-cultural pisteology: Lindsay Lohan carrying the Holy Qur'an (Koran), Brooklyn, New York, May 2015.

While clearly the universities got involved and the intersection between pisteology epistemology (the study of knowledge and belief) does seem obvious to the point when the former might be thought a fork of the latter, its roots and concerns remained theological and Christian, exploring how faith functions in religious traditions, doctrines, and human understanding of the divine and many famous thinkers have written works which may be thought pisteological landmarks.  Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430) wrote so widely it’s probably possible to find something which tracks the path of some direction in Christianity but underling it all was his famous admission: “I believe in order to understand”, more than a subtle hint that faith is a prerequisite for true comprehension of divine truth.  Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) lived 800-odd year later and was better acquainted with the philosophers of the Classical age.  Aquinas is sometimes said to have “integrated” Aristotelian philosophy with Christian theology and while this is misleading, he understood the spirit of reasoning from Antiquity was compelling and in a way that’s influential still, he argued faith and reason complement each other, defined faith as a virtue by which the intellect assents to divine truth under the influence of the will.  A central figure in Reformed theology, John Calvin (1509-1564) explored faith extensively in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. He described faith as a firm and certain knowledge of God's benevolence toward us, founded on the promise of the gospel and revealed by the Holy Spirit.  Martin Luther (1483–1546) probably thought this not so much a fudge as a needless layer, arguing that it was faith alone (rather than a virtuous life of good works) by which one would on judgement day be judged.  Faith then was the cornerstone of salvation in his doctrine of sola fide (faith alone), a rigor which would have pleased John Calvin (1509–1564).  The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) was not a theologian but his writings had an influence on theological thought and in a nod to Aquinas highlighted the paradox of faith and what he called “leap of faith” as essential to authentic religious life and although he never explicitly discussed the “You don’t have to believe it but you must accept it” school of thought, it does seem implicit in his paradox.

For the bedside table: Karl Barth’s Kirchliche Dogmatik.

Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834) is often styled “the father of modern liberal theology” and to him faith was an experiential relationship with the divine, rooted in a “feeling of absolute dependence.”  More conservative theologians didn’t much object to that notion but they probably thought of him something in the vein William Shakespeare (1564–1616) in Julius Caesar (1599) had Caesar say of Cassius: “He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.”  John Henry Newman (1801–1890) was one of those conservatives (albeit something of a convert to the cause who had a strange path to Rome) and he wrote much about the development of doctrine and the role of faith in understanding divine truth but it was the Swiss Protestant theologian Karl Barth (1882-1968) whose Kirchliche Dogmatik (Church Dogmatics (in English translation a fourteen-volume work of some six-million words and published between 1932 and 1967) that appeared the modern world’s most ambitious attempt to recover the proclamation of the word of God as the place where God's message of salvation meets sinful man: faith as an act of trust and obedience to God's self-revelation.  Barth’s contribution to pisteology was a rejection of natural theology, emphasizing faith as a response to God's revelation in Jesus Christ; it wasn’t exactly Martin Luther without the anti-Semitism but the little monk’s ghost does loom over those fourteen volumes.  Pius XII (1879-1958; pope 1939-1958), a fair judge of such things, thought Barth the most important theologian since Aquinas.

Barth though was a formalist, writing for other theologians who breathed rarefied intellectual air and he didn’t make pisteology easy or accessible and although Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) claimed to have read all fourteen volumes while serving the twenty year sentence (he was lucky to receive) for war crimes and crimes against humanity, (he had more time than most to devote to the task), he did acknowledge the conceptual and textual difficulties.  Barth seems not to have done much for Speer’s faith in God but, being Speer, he took from the six million works what suited him and decided he was atoning for his sins: “There is much that I still cannot comprehend, chiefly because of the terminology and the subject.  But I have had a curious experience.  The uncomprehended passages exert a tranquilizing effect.  With Barth's help I feel in balance and actually, in spite of all that's oppressive, as if liberated.”  Speer continued: “I owe to Barth the insight that man’s responsibility is not relieved just because evil is part of his nature. Man is by nature evil and nevertheless responsible.  It seems to me there is a kind of complement to that idea in Plato’s statement that for a man who has committed a wrong ‘there is only one salvation: punishment.’  Plato continues: ‘Therefore it is better for him to suffer this punishment than to escape it; for it sustains man’s inward being.’”

For those who want to explore Christocentric pisteology, Barth’s Kirchliche Dogmatik really isn’t a good place to start because his texts are difficult and that’s not a consequence of the English translation; those who have read the original in German make the same point.  Nor will those tempted by his reputation to try one of his shorter works be likely to find an easier path because his style was always one of dense prose littered with words obscure in meaning to all but those who had spent time in divinity departments.  When writing of German Lutheran theologian Isaak August Dorner (1809–1884) in Protestant Theology in the Nineteenth Century (1946) he wrote: “The assertion of a receptivity in man, the Catholic-type conception of the gratia preveniens which runs alongside this receptivity, the mystical culmination of this pisteology, are all elements of a speculative basic approach which can even be seen here, in Dorner.”  Is it any wonder some might confuse pisteology with piscatology (the study of fishing)?

Evil

Evil (pronounced ee-vuhl)

(1) Morally wrong or bad; immoral; wicked; morally corrupt.

(2) Harmful; injurious (now rare).

(3) Marked or accompanied by misfortune (now rare; mostly historic).

(4) Having harmful qualities; not good; worthless or deleterious (obsolete).

Pre 900: From the Middle English evel, ivel & uvel (evil) from the Old English yfel, (bad, vicious, ill, wicked) from the Proto-Germanic ubilaz.  Related were the Saterland Frisian eeuwel, the Dutch euvel, the Low German övel & the German übel; it was cognate with the Gothic ubils, the Old High German ubil, the German übel and the Middle Dutch evel and the Irish variation abdal (excessive).  Root has long been thought the primitive Indo-European hupélos (diminutive of hwep) (treat badly) which produced also the Hittite huwappi (to mistreat, harass) and huwappa (evil, badness) but an alternative view is a descent from upélos (evil; (literally "going over or beyond (acceptable limits)")) from the primitive Indo-European upo, up & eup (down, up, over).  Evil is a noun & adjective (some do treat it as a verb), evilness is a noun and evilly an adverb; the noun plural is evils.

Evil (the word) arrived early in English and endured.  In Old English and all the early Teutonic languages except the Scandinavian, it quickly became the most comprehensive adjectival expression of disapproval, dislike or disparagement.  Evil was the word Anglo-Saxons used to convey some sense of the bad, cruel, unskillful, defective, harm, crime, misfortune or disease.  The meaning with which we’re most familiar, "extreme moral wickedness" existed since Old English but did not assume predominance until the eighteenth century.  The Latin phrase oculus malus was known in Old English as eage yfel and survives in Modern English as “evil eye”.  Evilchild is attested as an English surname from the thirteenth century and Australian-born Air Chief Marshall Sir Douglas Evill (1892-1971) was head of the Royal Air Force (RAF) delegation to Washington during World War II (1939-1945).  Despite its utility, there’s probably no word in English with as many words of in the same vein without any being actually synonymous.  Consider: destructive, hateful, vile, malicious, vicious, heinous, ugly, bad, nefarious, villainous, corrupt, malefic, malevolent, hideous, wicked, harm, pain, catastrophe, calamity, ill, sinful, iniquitous, depraved, vicious, corrupt, base, iniquity & unrighteousness; all tend in the direction yet none quite matches the darkness of evil although malefic probably come close.  

Hannah Arendt and the banality of evil

The word evil served English unambiguously and well for centuries and most, secular and spiritual, knew that some people are just evil.  It was in the later twentieth century, with the sudden proliferation of psychologists, interior decorators, sociologists, criminologists, social workers and basket weavers that an industry developed exploring alternative explanations and causations for what had long been encapsulated in the word evil.  The output was uneven but among the best remembered, certainly for its most evocative phrase, was in the work of German-American philosopher and political theorist Hannah Arendt (1906–1975).  Arendt’s concern, given the scale of the holocaust was: "Can one do evil without being evil?"

Whether the leading Nazis were unusually (or even uniquely) evil or merely individuals who, through a combination of circumstances, came to do awful things has been a question which has for decades interested psychiatrists, political scientists and historians.  Arendt attended the 1961 trial of Adolph Eichmann (1906-1962), the bureaucrat responsible for transportation of millions of Jews and others to the death camps built to allow the Nazis to commit the industrial-scale mass-murder of the final solution.  Arendt thought Eichmann ordinary and bland, “neither perverted nor sadistic” but instead “terrifyingly normal”, acting only as a diligent civil servant interested in career advancement, his evil deeds done apparently without ever an evil thought in his mind.  Her work was published as Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (1963).  The work attracted controversy and perhaps that memorable phrase didn’t help.  It captured the popular imagination and even academic critics seemed seduced.  Arendt’s point, inter alia, was that nothing in Eichmann’s life or character suggested that had it not been for the Nazis and the notion of normality they constructed, he’d never have murdered even one person.  The view has its flaws in that there’s much documentation from the era to prove many Nazis, including Eichmann, knew what they were doing was a monstrous crime so a discussion of whether Eichmann was immoral or amoral and whether one implies evil while the other does not does, after Auschwitz, seems a sterile argument.

Evil is where it’s found.

Hannah Arendt's relationship with Martin Heidegger (1889–1976) began when she was a nineteen year old student of philosophy and he her professor, married and aged thirty-six.  Influential still in his contributions to phenomenology and existentialism, he will forever be controversial because of his brief flirtation with the Nazis, joining the party and taking an academic appointment under Nazi favor.  He resigned from the post within a year and distanced himself from the party but, despite expressing regrets in private, never publicly repented.  His affair with the Jewish Arendt is perhaps unremarkable because it pre-dated the Third Reich but what has always attracted interest is that their friendship lasted the rest of their lives, documented in their own words in a collection of their correspondence (Letters: 1925-1975, Hannah Arendt & Martin Heidegger (2003), Ursula Ludz (Editor), Andrew Shields (Translator)).  Cited sometimes as proof that feelings can transcend politics (as if ever there was doubt), the half-century of letters which track the course of a relationship which began as one of lovers and evolved first into friendship and then intellectual congress.  For those who wish to explore contradiction and complexity in human affairs, it's a scintillating read.  Arendt died in 1975, Heidegger surviving her by some six months.

New York Post, November 1999.

In 1999, Rupert Murdoch’s (b 1931) tabloid the New York Post ran one of their on-line polls, providing a list of the usual suspects, asking readers to rate the evil to most evil, so to determine “The 25 most evil people of the last millennium”.  The poll received 19184 responses which revealed some “recency bias” (a cognitive bias that favors recent events over historic ones) in that some US mass-murderers were rated worse than some with more blood on their hands but most commented on was the stellar performance of the two “write-ins”: Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) & crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013), the POTUS coming second and the FLOTUS an impressive sixth, Mr Murdoch’s loyal readers rating both more evil than Saddam Hussein (1937–2006; president of Iraq 1979-2003), Vlad the Impaler (Vlad Dracula or Prince Vlad III of Wallachia (circa 1430-circa 1477); thrice Voivode of Wallachia 1448-circa 1477 or Ivan the Terrible (Ivan IV Vasilyevich (1530–1584; Grand Prince of Moscow and all Russia 1533-1584 & Tsar of all Russia 1547-1584).

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

While fun and presumably an indication of something, on-line polls should not be compared with the opinion polls run by reputable universities or polling organizations, their attraction for editors looking for click-bait being they’re essentially free and provide a result, sometimes within a day, unlike conventional polls which can cost thousands or even millions depending on the sample size and duration of research.  The central problem with on-line polls is that responders are self-selected rather than coming from a cohort determined by a statistical method developed in the wake of the disastrously inaccurate results of a poll “predicting” national voting intentions in the 1936 presidential election.  The 1936 catchment had been skewered towards the upper-income quartile by being restricted to those who answered domestic telephone connections, the devices then rarely installed in lower-income households.  A similar phenomenon of bias is evident in the difference on-line responses to the familiar question: “Who won the presidential debate?”, the divergent results revealing more about the demographic profiles of the audiences of CBS, MSNBC, CNN, ABC & FoxNews than on-stage dynamics on-stage.

Especially among academics in the social sciences, there are many who object to the frequent, almost casual, use of “evil”, applied to figures as diverse as serial killers and those who use the “wrong” pronoun.  Rightly on not, academics can find “complexity” in what appears simple to most and don’t like “evil” because of the simple moral absolutism it implies, the suggestion certain actions or individuals are inherently or objectively wrong.  Academics call this “an over-simplification of complex ethical situations” and they prefer the nuances of moral relativism, which holds that moral judgments can depend on cultural, situational, or personal contexts.  The structuralist-behaviorists (a field still more inhabited than a first glance may suggest) avoid the word because it so lends itself to being a “label” and the argument is that labeling individuals as “evil” can be both an act of dehumanizing and something which reinforces a behavioral predilection, thereby justifying punitive punishment rather than attempting rehabilitation.  Politically, it’s argued, the “evil” label permits authorities to ignore or even deny allegedly causative factors of behavior such as poverty, mental illness, discrimination or prior trauma.

There are also the associative traditions of the word, the linkages to religion and the supernatural an important part of the West’s cultural and literary inheritance but not one universally treated as “intellectually respectable”.  Nihilists of course usually ignore the notion of evil and to the post-modernists it was just another of those “lazy” words which ascribed values of right & wrong which they knew were something wholly subjective, evil as context-dependent as anything else.  Interestingly, in the language of the polarized world of US politics, while the notional “right” (conservatives, MAGA, some of what’s left of the Republican Party) tends to label the notional “left” (liberals, progressives, the radical factions of the Democratic Party) as evil, the left seems to depict their enemies (they’re no longer “opponents”) less as “evil” and more as “stupid”.

The POTUS & the Pope: Francis & Donald Trump (aka the lesser of two evils), the Vatican, May 2017.

Between the pontificates of Pius XI (1857–1939; pope 1922-1939) and  Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013), all that seems to have changed in the Holy See’s world view is that civilization has moved from being threatened by communism, homosexuality and Freemasony to being menaced by Islam, homosexuality and Freemasony.  It therefore piqued the interest of journalists accompanying the pope on his recent 12-day journey across Southeast Asia when they were told by a Vatican press secretary his Holiness would, during the scheduled press conference, discuss the upcoming US presidential election: duly, the scribes assembled in their places on the papal plane. The pope didn’t explicitly tell people for whom they should vote nor even make his preference obvious as Taylor Swift (b 1989) would in her endorsement mobilizing the childless cat lady vote but he did speak in an oracular way, critiquing both Kamala Harris (b 1964; US vice president since 2021) and Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021) as “against life”, urging Catholic voters to choose the “lesser of two evils.”  That would have been a good prelude had he gone further but there he stopped: “One must choose the lesser of two evils. Who is the lesser of two evils?  That lady or that gentleman? I don’t know.”

Socks (1989-2009; FCOTUS (First Cat of the United States 1993-2001)) was Chelsea Clinton's (b 1980; FDOTUS (First Daughter of the United States)) cat.  Cartoon by Pat Oliphant, 1996.

The lesser of two evils: Australian-born US political cartoonist Pat Oliphant’s (b 1935) take on the campaign tactics of Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) who was the Democratic Party nominee in the 1996 US presidential election against Republican Bob Dole (1923–2021).  President Clinton won by a wide margin which would have been more handsome still, had there not been a third-party candidate.  Oliphant’s cartoons are now held in the collection of the National Library of Congress.  It’s not unusual for the task presented to voters in US presidential elections to be reduced to finding “the lesser of two evils”.  In 1964 when the Democrats nominated Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) to run against the Republican's Barry Goldwater (1909–1998), the conclusion of many was it was either “a crook or a kook”.  On the day, the lesser of the two evils proved to be crooked old Lyndon who won in a landslide over crazy old Barry.

Francis has some history in criticizing Mr Trump’s handling of immigration but the tone of his language has tended to suggest he’s more disturbed by politicians who support the provision of abortion services although he did make clear he sees both issues in stark moral terms: “To send migrants away, to leave them wherever you want, to leave them… it’s something terrible, there is evil there. To send away a child from the womb of the mother is an assassination, because there is life. We must speak about these things clearly.”  Francis has in the past labelled abortion a “plague” and a “crime” akin to “mafia” behavior, although he did resist suggestions the US bishops should deny Holy Communion to “pro-choice” politicians (which would have included Joe Biden (b 1942; US president 2021-2025), conscious no doubt that accusations of being an “agent of foreign interference” in the US electoral process would be of no benefit.  Despite that, he didn’t seek to prevent the bishops calling abortion is “our preeminent priority” in Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship, the 2024 edition of their quadrennial document on voting.  Some 20% of the US electorate describe themselves as Catholics, their vote in 2020 splitting 52/47% Biden/Trump but that was during the Roe v Wade (1973) era and abortion wasn’t quite the issue it's since become and a majority of the faith in the believe it should be available with only around 10% absolutist right-to-lifers.  Analysts concluded Francis regards Mr Trump as less evil than Ms Harris and will be pleased if his flock votes accordingly; while he refrained from being explicit, he did conclude: “Not voting is ugly.  It is not good.  You must vote.”

Planter

Planter (pronounced plahn-tah (U) or plan-ter (non-U))

(1) A person who plants (usually seedlings, shrubs etc).

(2) An implement or machine for planting seeds, seedlings etc in the soil.

(3) The owner or manager of a plantation.

(4) In historical use, during the era of European colonialism, a colonist or new settler.

(5) In historical use, any of the early English or Scottish settlers, given the lands of the dispossessed Irish populace during the reign of Elizabeth I (1533–1603; Queen of England & Ireland 1558-1603).

(6) A decorative container, in a variety of sizes and shapes, used usually for growing flowers or ornamental plants.

(7) In the slang of law enforcement and the criminal class, an individual (from either group) who “plants” incriminating evidence for various purposes.

1350–1400: From the late fourteenth century Middle English plaunter (one who sows seeds), an agent noun from the verb plant, the construct being plant + -er.  Plant was from the Middle English plante, from the Old English plante (young tree or shrub, herb newly planted), from the Latin planta (sprout, shoot, cutting) while the broader sense of “any vegetable life, vegetation generally” was from the Old French plante.  The verb was from the Middle English planten, from the Old English plantian (to plant), from the Latin plantāre, later influenced by Old French planter.  Similar European forms meaning “to plant” included the Dutch planten, the German pflanzen, the Swedish plantera and the Icelandic planta.  The use of “plant” to describe heavy machinery and equipment emerged in the mid-nineteenth century, based on the ideas of something being “planted” in place and immovable (like a planted tree).  As technology evolved, use extended to non-static equipment such as heavy earth moving vehicles but the exact definition now differs between jurisdictions, based variously on purchase price, function etc although the aspect of most practical significance is often the threshold to qualify for certain taxation advantages such as accelerated depreciation.  The –er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought most likely to have been borrowed from the Latin –ārius where, as a suffix, it was used to form adjectives from nouns or numerals.  In English, the –er suffix, when added to a verb, created an agent noun: the person or thing that doing the action indicated by the root verb.   The use in English was reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant -our), from the Latin -ātor & -tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  When appended to a noun, it created the noun denoting an occupation or describing the person whose occupation is the noun.  Planter is a noun; the noun plural is planters.

Planters (with plants) at the main entryway to Lindsay Lohan's house, Venice, Los Angeles, California, 2013.

The figurative sense of “one who introduces, establishes, or sets up” dates from the 1630s, picked up a decade later to refer to “one who owns a plantation, the proprietor of a cultivated estate in West Indies or southern colonies of North America” although in the latter case it was literally the “planting of seeds” for cropping rather than the idea of planting the “seeds of civilization”, a notion which for centuries appealed to the defenders of European colonialism and echoes of this attitude are heard still today.  The mechanical sense of a “tool or machine for planting seeds” is by 1850 dates from the 1850s.  The “planter’s punch” was a cocktail mixed with Jamaican rum, lime juice and sugar cane juice; first mentioned in the late nineteenth century it fulfilled a similar role to the gin & tonic (G&T) under the Raj.  The now familiar use to describe a “pot for growing plants” is a surprisingly late creation, apparently named only in 1959 although such devices obviously had been in use for centuries, such as the “window box” attached to the sills outside windows in which folk grew either something decorative (flowers) or useful (herbs or miniature vegetables).  The form “window box planter” is now used in commerce; something which seems a needless addition.  A church planter (also as churchplanter) describes a missionary, preacher or organization which travels to establish a church in a place where no congregations of the relevant denomination exist.  The tactic is most associated with Evangelical Christianity.  In Cebuano (an Austronesian language spoken in the southern Philippines), as a back-formation from planteran, planter is used as a noun to mean “a frame-up; a false incrimination of an innocent person”.  The Cebuano verb planteran was also from the English plant and was used to mean “to arrange fraudulent evidence to falsely implicate someone in the commission of a crime”.  An often un-mentioned aspect in the career of Neville Chamberlain (1869–1940; UK prime-minister 1937-1940) was his early career as a planter.  Dispatched by his father Joseph Chamberlain (1836–1914) to establish a sisal plantation on Andros Island in the Bahamas, the younger Neville proved a tough imperial pioneer, toiling for some six years in the Caribbean but the climate was uncooperative and the soil proved no more receptive to Neville's attempts at appeasement than would Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) two generations later.  The sisal project ended in failure with the family fortune suffering a loss equivalent (in 2024 values) to some US$8-9 million.

Bollards, raw and disguised.

Dealing with terrorism is of necessity a reactive business and in Western cities, bollards appeared sometimes within hours of news of the use of motor vehicles somewhere as an instrument of murder, either as a delivery system for explosives or brute-force device to run down pedestrians.  Because of the haste with which the things were deemed needed, it wasn’t uncommon for bollards initially to be nothing but re-purposed concrete blocks (left), often not even painted, the stark functionality of purpose limited to preventing vehicular access which permitting those on foot to pass with minimal disruption.  They’ve since become a fixture in the built environment, often is stylized shapes (centre & right) and urban designers have been inventive, many objects which function as bollards not recognizably bollardesque, being integrated into structures such as city furniture or bus shelters.

Bollards disguised as planters.

Urban planners have however responded and the large-scale planter box, which had for some time been a familiar sight in cityscapes, has proved adaptable, able to be shaped and placed in a way which obviates the need for conventionally shaped bollards.  Where the space is available, even small green spaces can be installed and, with integrated drip-feed irrigation systems, maintenance is low, an additional benefit being the lowering of temperature in the immediate environment, the foliage reducing radiated heat.  One popular feature of the big planter boxes in many cities is that they include built-in benches on which people can sit, something seen in squares, malls and plazas.  Not all support this however.  Retailers think people should be in such places only to shop and giving them somewhere to sit makes them for the time they spend unproductively inert not able to go to shops and spend money.  There’s also the view such things attract an anti-social element who loiter with nefarious intent and there is still a view by some in authority (based apparently on some English case-law from the 1960s) that in public spaces, while people have the right to walk up and down, there’s no right to stay in the one place, sitting or standing.  So, planters with seating presumably are provided on a case-by-case basis: in nice respectable suburbs which are well-policed, planters have comfortable seats in the shade while in low income areas where the police appear only to respond to murders, serious assaults, armed robbery etc, the built environment is designed in such as way that to sit anywhere is either uncomfortable or impossible.

Planters with an integrated bench on which people can sit are a feature of the street architecture in Canberra, Australia.  Pictured here are several on Lonsdale Street, Braddon.

However, even when planters offer a comfortable spot on which to rest, dangers lurk, especially if one is at the time tired and emotional or at least a bit squiffy.  Shortly before midnight on 8 February 2024, the honourable Barnaby Joyce MP (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) was observed sprawled on the sidewalk mumbling obscenities into his phone, having fallen from the planter where he’d paused to gather his thoughts.  The planter sits on Lonsdale Street in the Canberra suburb of Braddon, a short distance from a bar popular with politicians.  The Daily Mail published footage of the remarkable scene, the highlight in some ways being the conversation the former deputy prime-minister was having with his wife, the lucky soul who captured the scene reporting the uttering of “dead fucking cunt” (the phrase a not infrequently ejaculated part of idiomatic Australian English).

Vikki Campion (b 1985) and Barnaby Joyce (b 1967) on their wedding day, 11 November 2023.  In a nice touch, the couple's two children were able to witness the ceremony.

In answer to enquiries from the Daily Mail (past masters at identifying those “tired and emotional”), Mr Joyce’s wife confirmed she was the interlocutor and her husband was referring not to her as a “dead fucking cunt” but was “…calling himself one.”  “He likes to self flagellate” she added.  She further observed it was disappointing that rather than offering assistance to someone sprawled on the ground in the dead of night, someone would instead film the scene but the witness confirmed Mr Joyce seemed “relaxed & happy”, in no obvious distress and conducting his phone call calmly, using the wide vocabulary which has helped make him a politician of such renown.  Responding later to an enquiry from the Daily Mail, Mr Joyce admitted the incident was “very embarrassing” and that had he known “…someone was there with a camera, I would have got up quicker.”  Explaining the event, he told the newspaper: “I was walking back to my accommodation after parliament rose at 10 pm.  While on the phone I sat on the edge of a planter box, fell over, kept talking on the phone, and very animatedly was referring to myself for having fallen over.  I got up and walked home.”  Commendably, Mr Joyce seems to have made no attempt to blame the planter box for what happened but a Murdoch outlet did report that "...privately he was telling friends he was taking medication you cannot drink alcohol with and that was the cause of the incident".  Left unexplored by Sky News was whether that implied (1) knowing that, he hadn't taken any alcohol that day and the episode was induced by a reaction to the medicine or (2) he had taken a quantity of alcohol and the episode was induced by the combination of strong drink and the pharmaceuticals.  He later clarified things, confirming the latter, after which he announced he was "giving up alcohol for Lent".

The honourable Barnaby Joyce MP, Lonsdale Street, Canberra ACT, February 2024.

The morning after the night before, the planter box's 15 minutes of fame was marked in an appropriately ephemeral way, a chalk outline added where the recumbent Mr Joyce continued his phone call.

Mr Joyce should be given the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps recalling Lyndon Johnson’s (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) observation of Gerald Ford (1913–2006; US president 1974-1977) as someone “so dumb he can’t fart and walk at the same time” (sanitized by the press for publication as “chew gum and walk at the same time”), Mr Joyce may have thought it wise to sit on the planter while making his call.  Unfortunately, when one is tired and emotional, the challenge of using one’s phone, even if one sits a planter, can be too much and one topples to the ground, a salutatory lesson for all phone users.  

Dr Rudd sitting in a pew during the ecumenical church service marking the start of the parliamentary year, Canberra, February, 2008.

Among serious & cynical observers of politics (the adjectival tautology acknowledged), the consensus seems to be this latest incident in Mr Joyce's eventful life will prove beneficial and he'll likely increase his majority at the next election, the rationale for that being politicians tend to benefit from being seen as “authentic” and few things seem more authentically Australian than going to a bar, spending a few hours giving it a nudge, then falling off a planter box on the way home.  People can identify with that in a way something like the essay discussing "faith in politics" and the example set by anti-Nazi preacher Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) which Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013) published in The Monthly (October 2006), just doesn't "cut through".  The essay was politely received as “earnest”, “thoughtful” and “worthy”, few apparently prepared to risk retribution by pointing out it was also derivative, taking 5000-odd words to say what had many times over the years already been said (which, in fairness, can be said of many works).  Still, it was shorter than might have been expected so there was that.  The sanctimony in the text would have surprised nobody but it was only after he was defenestrated by his colleagues that some, musing on the the policies his government implemented, decided to point out the hypocrisy of him asserting Christianity “must always take the side of the marginalised, the vulnerable and the oppressed” and that politicians should uphold “the values of decency, fairness and compassion that are still etched deep into our national soul”.  Mr Joyce's many and varied sins are (mostly) well documented and “ordinary Australians” (as politicians like to call us) seem still willing to extend to him the Christian virtue of forgiveness.  Of Dr Rudd, they probably prefer to try to forget.