By Luis E. Lugo
The dispute between Pope Leo and President Trump over the United States’ migration policy and military action in Iran raises important questions about the suitability of observing limits and not crossing certain lines.
Little needs to be said about the president’s behavior in this regard, except to recall Hilaire Belloc’s description of Henry VIII, whose main characteristic «was an inability to resist impulse.» Belloc astutely observes that the sixteenth-century monarch «had a passion for getting his own way, which is almost the opposite of having strength of will.» It was this lack of moderation, he notes, that prevented Henry from understanding when «this lack of self-control crossed the bounds of common decency.»
More critical for Catholics is the question of whether Pope Leo, some American bishops, and other Church officials may have crossed important lines themselves, not in their personal conduct, but in the substance of their pronouncements.
As Pope Leo has encouraged us to do, I have been reviewing the documents of Vatican II. One of the main conclusions of that treasure of Christian teaching is the clear distinction that modern Catholic social thought draws between doctrines and principles, on the one hand, and their prudential application in particular cases, on the other.
The documents make it clear that when our pastors articulate and defend fundamental social principles, they do so with all the authority of their office. However, Catholics are placed in a difficult position when our spiritual leaders publicly express their opinions regarding the specific applications of those principles. Should the faithful consider these pronouncements as authoritative or simply as personal opinions with which they might legitimately disagree?
The tradition of Catholic social thought has always recognized that there are many contingent factors involved in the application of the Church’s social teachings in specific contexts. It requires those responsible for such decisions to immerse themselves in the disorder and uncertainty of things to weigh possible consequences. Migration policy and the use of military force in Iran are textbook examples.
It is for this reason that the virtue of prudence plays such a prominent role in these decisions. It is also the reason why the Church emphasizes the indispensable role of the laity, especially those with the necessary knowledge and skills, in making these determinations. Which brings me back to the magisterial documents of Vatican II.
In the Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity (Apostolicam Actuositatem), the Council Fathers affirmed that it is especially the duty of the laity to know the moral and social teachings of the Church so that they are capable of «rightly applying these same principles and conclusions to particular cases.» Another conciliar document (Ad Gentes) offers the other side of the coin by declaring that «the Church in no way wishes to interfere in the government of the earthly city.»
Church leaders will always call for, and appropriately so, the peaceful resolution of conflicts. But we must not assume that calls for ongoing dialogue and negotiations hold a position of moral superiority in all cases. Prolonging diplomatic conversations can, in fact, allow bad actors to continue killing more innocents and, even more alarmingly, give them more time to acquire greater lethality with which to kill countless others.
The Catholic tradition of social thought has always recognized that, as long as we live in a sinful world, recourse to force—through police power or military means—will sometimes be necessary. That is why the just war teaching articulates criteria for judging the justice of going to war (jus ad bellum), as well as for ensuring that even just wars are conducted only by licit means (jus in bello).
Sometimes moral principles bear directly on the social order, and in those cases, pastoral pronouncements can proceed in a direct manner. Abortion, genocide, and other intrinsically evil acts, such as the indiscriminate killing of civilians, fall into that category. Therefore, our pastors were within their rights to condemn the president’s ill-considered (though not seriously intended) threats to wipe Iran off the map.
But unless one accepts the proposition that making war is intrinsically immoral, as pacifists do, determining whether a specific instance of the use of force is just will inevitably involve issuing difficult prudential judgments. This requires, among other things, access to sensitive information that the general public often does not have (and one might say should not have). Add that to the reasons why the tradition wisely places the burden of making war on legitimate public authorities.
In his habitually reflective manner, Bishop Robert Barron has defended Pope Leo against President Trump’s criticisms in this way: «It is the Pope’s prerogative to articulate Catholic doctrine and the principles that govern moral life. As for the concrete application of those principles, people of good will can disagree and do disagree.»
Exactly. That is why we must respectfully ask whether our ecclesiastical leaders have sometimes crossed the line between principles and prudence. On that question, I also suspect that people of good will will disagree.
C. S. Lewis showed a strong Catholic sensibility on this topic when he stated that the clergy have the responsibility to vigorously articulate basic Christian principles. But also that the concrete application of general principles in the public sphere is outside their competence: «The clergy are those particular persons within the whole Church who have been specially trained to know what concerns us as creatures who are going to live forever: and we are asking them to do a work for which they have not been trained.»
Lewis urges us, instead, to turn to Christian laypeople «who have the right talents» to provide guidance on temporal matters:
The application of Christian principles, e.g., to trade unionism or to education, must come from Christian trade unionists and Christian teachers: just as Christian literature comes from Christian novelists and dramaturgists, not from a committee of bishops who meet and try to write novels and plays in their spare time.
Or, we might add, that they issue pronouncements on complex public policy issues, whether foreign or domestic.
About the author
Luis E. Lugo is a retired university professor and foundation executive writing from Rockford, Michigan.