What kinds of writing appear in this section?

This writing section contains a diverse collection of my work. Some of it is academic, some of it is fiction, and some of it is poetry. I do not suppose one could be good at all three. At least I will not pretend to be that gifted. Still, writing is for reading. Thus, I am posting this sampling. There is much more work on my other websites.

Harvard Club, New York, New York (2008)

Posted by Flint McGlaughlin at 10:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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INTRODUCTION

Werner Heisenberg, quantum physicist and Nobel laureate observes, "A consistent pursuit of classical physics forces a transformation in the very heart of that physics."1 Heisenberg might have substituted the word "mission" for the word "physics". His statement would then reflect an apt observation on what must happen in our effort to participate in the Church's commission.

We need to question the very heart of our efforts.

While one may argue that the Church is continuing to transform lives, one may also observe that no matter what we have achieved, it is not enough. Indeed, our progress is insufficient. This short essay must assume that this deficiency is at least somewhat evident. Thus, with its limited length, it will not invest copious amount of words expounding on the same. It will, instead, go straight to "the very heart" of the issue proposing a new construct for our missiological thinking.

Moreover, the discussion, itself, is meant to address a particular category of leader: structural leaders within the Church. For this reason, certain presuppositions about the intended reader should be established at the outset.

1. That the reader, in some way, desires to effect spiritual transformation. This may be further defined by the "Great Commission,"2 or by some other textual lens, but whatever the final definition, the aim is to participate in Christ-Centered mission. This paper cannot afford to invest additional words in a fuller theological/philosophical justification for this aim.
2. That the reader is a practitioner better served by an introduction to the concepts herein, than with an exercise in complex academic debate (though there is a place for such dialog). The point of this discussion is explanation not disputation.

In sum, this essay has a strictly limited aim: to briefly introduce a new missiological model3 that could accelerate our progress in achieving the Church's transformational mission.

METHOD

The concept of "method" is closely related to the concept of "how". One might reasonably ask at the outset of this project, "How can we improve our efforts to build the Church?" or "How can we improve our efforts to achieve the 'Great Commission' or "How can we improve our efforts to make disciples?" But these questions are not precise enough. First, one must consider two foundational queries:

(Q1) What is the best/right objective?

(Q2) What is the best/right way to accomplish this objective?

The import of these two queries can hardly be overstated.4 In any undertaking, both Q1 and Q2 must be confronted. Yet a lack of clarity is characteristic for much of the Church's efforts to accomplish its mission.

So often, we charge ahead with only the scantest forethought. We determine a general (often vague) idea of the objective, and then we settle on what might be an adequate (but not best) way to accomplish that objective. The results are often disappointing – at worst, we suffer total failure; at best, we settle for underperformance.

But why do leaders fail to consider Q1 and Q2?

1. Ignorance – Some leaders don't know any better; they just don't know what to ask. Instead, they imitate an appealing, commonly accepted approach.
2. Impatience – Some leaders are in a hurry; they just don't have time to do the deep thinking. They are too busy with the external work to be concerned with the (often painstaking) internal work.
3. Trepidation – Some leaders are deeply insecure; they just don't want to face the changes these questions might require. They are not prepared to risk radical adjustment.

In any case, the point is not to develop an exhaustive answer. The point is only this: as earnest followers of Christ we must relentlessly challenge each missiological task with the rigorous criterion of Q1 and Q2.5

The word "continually" in this context is vital. It denotes process. Asking Q1 and Q2 is not a one-time event. It is an iterative pattern. It must be done over and over again. Moreover, an honest engagement with this process will inevitably confront us with the need to surrender our assumptions. The process is disruptive.

It is dangerous.

Objective

What, then, is the best/right objective? The question, as it applies to Christian mission, can generate complex (often odious) theological debate. Nevertheless, as established in the introduction, the strictures of this paper necessarily restrain such debate. We shall attempt to answer Q1 with a new term: Pervasive Spiritual Transformation (PST).

QUESTION: What is the primary objective?

ANSWER: To achieve PST

Clearly, the term "Pervasive Spiritual Transformation" requires definition. Again, this definition can become controversial, but even among disputants the word "pervasive" might be particularly useful. It deserves clarification. Consequently, we shall make two provisional but rapid thought-moves:

First let us assume that spiritual transformation involves traditional/orthodox conditions of "μαθητής" (disciple-discipleship) and "theosis" (God-imaging). Furthermore, let us assume that this transformation should be holistic, involving both the physical and the spiritual dimensions.6

These two provisional moves free us to reflect on the modifier "pervasive". The most common synonyms may be listed as follows: all-encompassing, enveloping, invasive, and persistent. These synonyms are instructive, but not precise enough. For the purposes of this paper "pervasive" must be understood on two levels: as it relates to depth, and as it relates to breadth.

As it relates to depth, "pervasive" denotes internal intensity. As it relates to breadth, "pervasive" denotes external influence. One might theorize that the greater the intensity, the greater the influence. For example, if people experience some form of intense (deep, pervasive) spiritual transformation, they may be more likely to have (wide, pervasive) influence on others.

Thus, even those who disagree on the precise definition of "Spiritual Transformation" might agree in their hope for pervasive effect. The modifier "pervasive," then, will help shape the answer to the next question.

Way

What is the best way to accomplish PST? To develop the criteria for a satisfactory answer the question, itself, must undergo brief exegesis. One might especially focus on two modifier-concepts7: "pervasive" and "best".

1. Regarding "pervasive," the answer must entail a way that is "encompassing, enveloping, invasive, and persistent." In particular, it must achieve internal intensity, and external influence. It must be personal and widespread. Thus the outcome, Pervasive Spiritual Transformation (PST), might eventually be described as "conversion," or "renewal," or even "revival."
2. Regarding "best," the answer must entail the superior way. Adequacy is the enemy of excellence. Consequently, the answer must be bold enough to (respectfully) reject the norms – the adequate ways previously employed. It must evolve from a relentless search for the utmost. Moreover, the answer will express a convergence between ethics and effectiveness. It will assume that "best" and "right" are synonymous.

With this criterion in mind, we might turn to the daunting if stimulating challenge of answering Q2.

ELEMENTS

In the interest of "relentlessly challenging each missiological task," this paper posits a new theoretical model. This model8 is contingent upon the warrant that spiritual transformation is preceded by some form of communication (indeed, incarnation may be viewed as communication). From there, the model identifies three core elements. The importance of these three elements may be notated in a conditional expression:

Expression:
(CDE)S → !PST

Wherein:
C = Content
D = Distribution
E = Energy
PST = Pervasive Spiritual Transformation
S = Sufficient
! = Potential

Explanation:9
If sufficient content/distribution/energy, then potential Pervasive Transformation

The point is simple: If we have sufficient content, distribution, and energy there is the potential to experience Pervasive Spiritual Transformation. It follows, then, that if we do not have sufficient content, distribution, and energy, we might fail to experience/achieve PST.

On the most basic level, this point may be illustrated using a simple example. Suppose one is trying to convey a seminal thought10. One will begin with the thought itself (content). One will need a medium (distribution), be it audible, written, or some other form, and one will need the physical strength to avail the medium (energy).11

Even in nature certain phenomena require the proper combination of these three elements. Suppose one is trying to "transform" a parched garden by soaking it with water, one will need H2O (content). One will need a pipe/hose (distribution) and one will need electricity/gravity (energy).

Parallels

The process of relating these elements to our missiology involves semantic approximation. There is much theological work to do before we can offer more concrete claims. At the present, this project is attempting only the development of a working model. Thus, we will tentatively propose the following (incomplete) general explanations12 (as one way to relate these elements on a macro level):

1. Content relates to the gospel. The core of our message is the Gospel.
2. Distribution relates to the Church. God distributes the content through His Church.
3. Energy relates to power. The Church's work in distribution of the content is enabled by power (material and immaterial).

This framework is useful not only in prognosis but in diagnosis. From the PST expression we might suggest that a lack of results could be correlated to a deficiency in one or more of the three elements.

Most importantly, this suggestion points to the extreme significance of the sole modifier on the left side of the if/then statement (if sufficient content/distribution/energy, then potential Pervasive Spiritual Transformation). The sole modifier is the term, "sufficient". And this term must be understood on two levels: "Sufficient" means that (a) all three of the primary elements are active, and that (b) each element is somehow contributing enough. While (a) is simple enough to grasp, (b) requires explanation:

1. There must be sufficient content. There needs to be a sufficient message with a sufficient disrupter.13 A gospel which accommodates only its recipients cannot be inherent with the necessary change agent (disrupter).
2. There must be sufficient distribution. There needs to be a sufficient medium with sufficient encoding. The medium for distributing the gospel is not just technological; it is biological. Our lives are the prime medium. If we fail to embody the message as a present tense reality, then we fail to encode it in a meaningful way.
3. There must be sufficient energy. There needs to be sufficient type and a sufficient quantity. Content and even distribution without energy is relegated to mere intention. It languishes as scarcely more than a wish. Despite its many negative connotations, power is essential. Power translates into capacity.

Even when a particular effort/ministry excels in one of these areas, it rarely excels in all three. Yet a deficiency in either of the three mitigates results. Sufficient energy without sufficient content yields a weak PST factor. Conversely, sufficient content without sufficient energy (for example, financial support, or spiritual power) yields a weak PST factor.14 But is the sufficiency of CDE a guarantee of PST?

Potentiality

CDE is a necessary condition to PST, but CDE does not necessarily lead to PST. CDE fosters only the potentiality of PST. This is an important distinction. One must consider that this potential is converted into spiritual transformation by the addition of a fourth element. We might discover this element by considering a particular Pauline text.15

Romans 10:14, 17

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them?16

Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.17

This text is not offered as a proof but rather as a lens. It can be used to reveal a common missiological pattern: Faith, the "believing,"18 is dependent upon the "hearing". The "hearing" is dependent upon the "preaching". And the "preaching" is dependent upon the "message". We may also imply that the "message" is dependent upon the Spirit, as the point is stressed throughout the New Testament19.

So we have content – the message. We have distribution – the preaching. And we have energy – the Spirit. But we also have a fourth element – the reception20. This fourth element is necessary for one to experience PST. Without it, we have only potentiality.

Further, upon closer examination of the text, we may note that this particular kind of reception requires a sufficiency of understanding and of acceptance (faith) – which leads to a restatement of the sub-elements related to the concept, sufficiency:

C – There needs to be sufficient content. This relates to the message and the disrupter.
D – There needs to be sufficient distribution. This relates to the medium and the encoding.
E – There needs to be sufficient energy. This relates to type and quantity.
R – There needs to be sufficient reception (faith). This relates to understanding and acceptance.21

We may now reconsider the conditional expression stated earlier (note the additions in the blue font):

Expression:
(CDER)S → PST

Wherein:
C = Content
D = Distribution
E = Energy
R = Reception
PST = Pervasive Spiritual Transformation
S = Sufficient

Explanation:
If sufficient content/distribution/energy/reception, then Pervasive Spiritual Transformation

Thus, the fourth element, R, is essential.22 And, one might be tempted to add it to the others in this fashion: "We need content, plus distribution, plus energy, plus reception." Nevertheless, while such thinking is a move in the right direction, it falls far short of the mark. The mere addition of these four elements fosters a classification of distinct categories which in itself is a hindrance to achieving PST.

CONVERGENCE

Having introduced the three primary elements of PST, certain questions naturally emerge. For instance, does one element precede the others? Is one element more important than the other? Does PST result from adding equal portions of all three? All such questions belie the need for a deeper understanding of two key concepts: Density and Influence.

Density

PST is not a matter of addition or even of multiplication. It is a matter of density. Extreme transformation is stimulated by the absolute convergence of all four elements, and the greater the convergence, the greater the impact.

The point is well illustrated on a macro level, by studying the history of renewal/revival23. It is illustrated on a micro level, by studying the biography of key spiritual leaders. A most intriguing example, however, may be discovered by considering another textual lens from the Gospel of John.

According to John 1, "In the beginning was the Word" (Content). Then, "The Word became flesh and lived among us" (Distribution)24. And then, "I have beheld the Spirit . . . and it abode upon him" (Energy)25.

The Christ26 represented an absolute convergence of absolute content (full of grace and truth27), absolute distribution (No has ever seen God. . . . the one being in the center of the Father has made Him known28), and absolute energy (spirit without limit29). His incarnation created absolute potentiality for Pervasive Spiritual Transformation. But it remains just potentiality until the person understands30 and accepts (Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King).31

The pervasive effect of this convergence dynamic was intensified in the resurrection of the Christ (notable as the "Anointed One"). This phenomenon generated the "Good News" (Content). It stimulated the Commission (Distribution).32 And it released the Spirit of Pentecost (Energy). Indeed Christ said, "It is better that I go…"

Thus, to achieve PST, one must transcend "calculus thinking" with "convergence thinking". It is a unity of elements which leads to authentic transformation33 – and the more intense the unity, the more intense the external impact. Such intensity leads to influence.

Influence

Pervasive Spiritual Transformation is a matter of depth and of breadth – the deeper the transformation in one field, the wider the influence on other fields. This influence can translate into increased potentiality for PST. But to understand the nature of this phenomenon, one must reflect on a single observation and then on three points of praxis.

Observation:

1. A field may be considered as a variety of categories. For example, a field can be defined by biology – as in a particular person. A field can be defined by geography – as in a particular region. A field can be defined by demography – as in a particular class of people (community).

Praxis:

2. The "molecular" unit of PST field dynamics is the individual. Intense transformation at this level is the objective. In turn, the person who has experienced such transformation will have profound influence, positive or negative, on the fields he "touches". The mission should be more focused on "each" than on "all". In praxis, one should not focus on building churches; but rather on building people.
3. PST within a field is experienced both as event and as process. It begins with an event, but it continues as process. Any attempt to deny either the process or the event mitigates the transformation. But the event which initiates PST must be followed by purposeful process. And this process requires more relational involvement than does the event. It is costly. In praxis, one cannot settle for a conversion decision. It is not enough. The church must focus on discipleship.
4. Certain fields are more conducive/receptive to PST than others. Timing is important. The spread of PST is an organic process that moves naturally through channels which are good conductors. Prioritizing efforts around opportunities yields higher returns. In praxis, the Church needs to increase its ability to recognize where spiritual opportunity34 is developing. This can be more difficult than one would expect.

Thus, to maximize PST, one must focus with sustained intensity on high opportunity fields, allowing for a nexus between depth and breadth of impact. It is the concentration of resources that allows for highest spiritual yield.35

CONCLUSION

As stipulated earlier, this essay has endeavored only to introduce a new missiological model that could accelerate our progress in achieving the Church's transformational mission. The model may be summarized with 131 words:

To achieve the potential for pervasive spiritual transformation, one must have sufficient content, distribution, and energy. The term "sufficient" means that (a) all three of the primary elements are active and that (b) each element is somehow contributing enough. The potential for extreme transformation is stimulated by the absolute convergence of all three elements; the greater the convergence, the greater the potential. But it is the fourth element, reception, which translates potentiality into actuality.

PST is a matter of depth and of breadth – the deeper the transformation in one field, the wider the influence on other fields. The molecular unit of PST field dynamics is the individual. It begins as process, and then continues as event, spreading through to those fields which are most receptive. Prioritizing around opportunities yields higher returns.

The principles of convergence suggest a new way to focus our future efforts (prognosis). But they also indicate certain problems with our current efforts (diagnosis). Indeed, from the earlier discussion, one may extract three observations:

First, there is a lack of convergence in the Church's understanding and thus in its practice. Segregated thinking leads to segregated living. Our divergent approach has separated content from distribution, and from energy. And our narrow ecclesiology has limited the number of acceptable models for "doing church"36. We have created distinct worlds with separate rules for each.37 And thus, we have relegated our Christianity to the "churchplace" rather than the "lifeplace"38.

Next, this lack of understanding has produced a practical lack within each of the three essential elements: content, distribution, and energy. In some cases, our content is deficient; we offer an accommodating message without the necessary disruptor inherent in the Gospel. In other cases, our distribution is deficient; we deploy a biological medium with a weak encoding. Our "converts" fail to image the message itself, and thus they fail to convey it. In still other cases, our energy is (woefully) deficient; we scarcely have enough quantity of the right type of energy. Our mission languishes in the absence of power, a lack of spiritual anointing, and a lack of financial "capacity".

Finally, we tend to strive for breadth (numbers) instead of depth (intensity). We aspire to a vision of ecclesiastical success defined by the size of our congregations. This can lead to a dangerous nominalism on the part of the church, and a dangerous disillusionment on the part of the pastor. We fail to grasp three essentials of field influence: (a) that the "molecular" unit of PST is the individual, (b) that PST is more than event; it is process, and (c) that certain fields are more conducive to PST than others. And so we tend to focus on "all" rather than "each"; we emphasize decision rather than discipleship, and we prioritize around initiatives rather than opportunity.

The point of these observations is simple. An understanding of convergence could help accelerate our progress in achieving the Church's transformational mission. In any event we must relentlessly challenge each missiological task with the rigorous criteria of Q1 (What is the right objective?) and Q2 (What is the best way to accomplish the objective?). To reprise and rephrase Heisenberg, "A consistent pursuit of the Church's mission could force a transformation in the very heart of that mission".

Posted by Flint McGlaughlin at 10:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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'We live mainly by forms and patterns,' the renowned storyteller Wallace Stegner warns, 'and if the forms are bad, we live badly.'1 In a prescriptive commentary on today's leadership styles, one might substitute the word 'live for the word 'lead.' Certainly, we are inundated with forms and 'models.' And if this is the case in the general field of leadership, it is also the case in the particular field of ecclesiastical leadership. One may note two research 'currents' that are rarely analyzed together.

The first 'current' entails an increasing corpus of church leadership advice distinctly influenced by Western management philosophy. The Association of American Publishers reports annual growth of 37% in the religious publishing sector, calling it a 'growth business.' Sales are projected in excess of five billion dollars per year. And similar ratios are reflected in the growing body of literature on church leadership.2 Popular works include, Jesus CEO, The Management Methods of Jesus, and The Purpose-Driven Church.3

The second 'current' entails a growing corpus of scholarly research on the present work of the Holy Spirit characterized by a revitalized pneumatology. Indeed, cessationism seems to be fighting a losing battle. And as Philip Jenkins notes, Christianity is spreading fastest among the 'empowered evangelicals.' Jenkins observed that while this movement emerged only at the start of this century, by 2040 it will likely reach one billion followers – far outnumbering the world's Buddhists and roughly equaling the world's Hindus.4 This increase in 'believers' is matched by a substantial increase in books and literature on the leadership of the Spirit.

So then, we may note two currents: one that emphasizes Western management philosophy and one that emphasizes the leadership of the Spirit. Even a cursory review of these two streams indicates a radical difference in language. The former is a language of control while the latter is a language of dependency.5 And while church leaders seem to use both languages, in practice they most often reflect the Western management approach.

As an indication, one needs only to look at the leading title6 on church leadership, Rick Warren's The Purpose-Driven Church. With more than one million copies sold and more than 300,000 pastors using its ancillary materials in twenty-two languages, the book is a prime example. It liberally employs such terms as 'assimilation,' 'programming,' 'psychographics,' 'target markets,' 'composite profiles,' and 'pastoral management.'7

Beneath these terms is a philosophy of 'successful ministry' as defined by the twin Western ideals of celebrity and scale. If the size of the ministry and the popularity of the pastor/priest are the defining metric, then the ambitious leader must master the primary elements of Western management science: vision, strategy, objectives, and goals – all programmed into an infrastructure simulating a contemporary corporate or political organization.8

But is this emphasis on 'the Pastor/Priest as Executive' really helping?9 In the past fifteen years, the Western church has spent more than five-hundred billion dollars on ministry. Yet the combined membership of all protestant denominations has decreased 9.5%, while the national population has increased 11.4%.

• In the US each month, 2,700 churches close down.10
• In the UK between 1980 and 2000, the Church of England has suffered a 27% decline.11

Since 1987, attendance at Anglican churches by youth between the ages of 14 and 17 has decreased by 34.9%. And 'If the same rate continues to apply, there may be no young people at all in the church in twenty years' time.'12]

And even more telling is chronic, pervasive deformation professionnelle among the leaders of the church, where there is an epidemic of 'burnout' and disillusionment. According to a recent survey:13

• Seventy percent of the clergy constantly fight depression.
• 1,500 leave the ministry each month due to 'moral failure,' spiritual burnout, or contention in their churches.14
• Fifty percent are so discouraged that they would leave the ministry if they could, but confess that they have no other way of making a living.
• Ninety percent admit their ministry is completely different from what they thought it would be.
• Ninety percent state that their seminary or Bible school training did only a fair to poor job preparing them for ministry.

Clearly, we are at crosscurrents.15 Eugene Peterson argues that church Leaders have 'adopted the language of the market and of the entrepreneur (depersonalizing "souls" into consumers or causes),' allowing their 'pastoral vocation to serve the criteria of success as defined by the American culture.'16 One is reminded of Max Weber's warning that his sophisticated theories of management could result in 'mechanized petrifaction,' to 'specialists without spirit,' and to 'voluptuaries without heart.'17 To reprise Stegner: '[I]f the forms are bad, we live [lead] badly.' It seems an appropriate time to question the 'forms' that are shaping our ecclesiastical leadership philosophy.

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NOTE: The subject matter of this paper is important, but the academic style makes it somewhat ponderous.

Introduction
Separated by more than 8500 kilometers but only 52 years, two seminal thinkers have shaped the moral philosophy of their respective cultures. While Western ethical theory has been deeply influenced by Plato's Republic, Eastern ethical theory has been deeply influenced by Confucius's Analects. David Haberman describes the Republic as 'one of the most influential books of all time' (86). And Bryan Van Norden compares (with considerable fervor) the Analects to 'the combined influence of Jesus and Socrates' (3).

On the surface, there are many similarities between Confucius and Plato. Both taught through means of dialogue, and both expressed reticence to provide direct definitions. Both advocated contemplation and education as the means for moral attainment, and both sought to balance contemplation with service. Both sought to apply their moral theory to public office (though both failed). And while Plato espoused the 'heavenly' forms, Confucius espoused the 'Decree of Heaven.' Moreover, Plato advocated the life of the philosopher, even as Confucius advocated the life of the chun-tzu.

More importantly to this paper, Confucius and Plato both advocated an ultimate ethical ideal. Confucius's1 ethical ideal, ren,2 is central to the Analects (60 of the 499 chapters are devoted its discussion, and the word appears 109 times3). The term is tenuously translated as 'humanness.'4 And Plato's ideal, dikaiosune, is central to the Republic (it appears 248 times throughout his writings, and 131 times in The Republic5). The term is tenuously translated as 'justice.'

Because of differences in translation, these Greek and Chinese concepts have rarely, if ever, been compared. This is unfortunate, as a careful study of each may yield insight into the age-old question: Why should I be moral?

Confucius and Plato were teachers, and as such, both vigorously advocated their ethical ideals. Yet both seemed ambiguous in their teachings as to why one should pursue this ideal. The 'why' issue is vital for the teacher who, having either an Eastern or a Western cultural orientation, is concerned about application as well as theory. Indeed, while avoiding an argument from authority, it must be noted that if two of history's most important ethical thinkers, representing two distinct cultures, advocate similar moral pedagogies, then contemporary teachers should consider the implications.

The modest aim of this paper is to compare Plato's term dikaiosune with Confucius's term ren, and more particularly, to determine if there is a similarity between Plato's and Confucius's means of justifying these ideals. I will argue that there is a clear similarity (a) between the ideals themselves (concept), and (b) between the ways in which these teachers justify them (pedagogy).

Concept
Before one can argue for a similar pedagogy, one must establish a commonality of concept. Otherwise, one's case is built upon a conflation of categories. Thus, this paper must first demonstrate that there is a certain similitude between dikaiosune and ren.

dikaiosune

Plato's concept dikaiosune is central to the Republic. It is tenuously translated as 'justice.' This may be considered an ambiguous rendering, as the term seems to have a more expansive meaning. Some have argued that it is better translated as 'morality' or as 'righteousness,'6 but these terms were foreign to Plato's culture. Aristotle claims that the meaning of the original word itself 'seems to be ambiguous.' He states, 'It is clear, then, that there is more than one kind of justice, and that there is one which is distinct from virtue entirely...' (427).

While Plato's definition of dikaiosune is not explicitly stated, it is intimated:

1. Plato's concept of dikaiosune entails a wide scope of meaning (519c, 519e-520a, 520d).7

2. But it does not 'usurp the role of virtue as a whole' (Annas: 13). It is carefully distinguished from other social virtues such as wisdom (428b-429a), courage (429a-430c), and moderation (430d-432b).

3. i is a virtue, which regulates our relationships with others (443).

4. Dikaiosune is related to harmony: harmony of the individual and harmony of the state (443d). In books II-IV and VIII-IX of the Republic, Plato shows that dikaiosune is the only state in which a person may find harmonious fulfillment.

5. Dikaiosune is an agent-centered ethical ideal. 'Plato shifts from an act-centered to an agent-centered concept of justice,' so that one who becomes a philosopher embodies dikaiosune (Annas: 162).

6. By the time we get to the end of the Republic, we have more than a theory of justice in the narrow sense. We have been told a good deal about the good life in general (Annas: 13). Socrates says that the search for dikaiosune 'concerns no ordinary topic, but the way we ought to live' (352d).

In sum, it may be observed that dikaiosune has to do with the right relation of parts. In the case of the individual, this has to do with the three parts of the soul: the appetitive, the spirited, and the rational.8 Plato states that a person is just when he 'regulates well what is really his own,' 'puts himself in order,' and 'harmonizes the three parts of himself'9 (443d). In the case of the state (polis), this has to do with the three classes of its citizens: guardians, auxiliaries, and producers. A society that epitomizes dikaiosune helps to produce an individual that epitomizes dikaiosune, and an individual that epitomizes dikaiosune helps to produce a society that epitomizes dikaiosune.

ren

Confucius's concept ren (or jen) is central to the Analects. It is tenuously translated as 'humanness.' This may be considered an ambiguous rendering. The term seems to have a more ethical meaning. Some have argued that it is better translated as 'goodness'10 or 'love,'11 but these terms fail to capture the 'completeness' of Confucius's meaning.12

Kwon-Loi Shun claims the meaning of the original word itself is clouded by 'competing views.' He states that 'in the Analects ren is used both more narrowly to refer to one desirable quality among others, and more broadly to refer to an all-encompassing ethical ideal' (53).

While Confucius's definition of ren is not explicitly stated, it is intimated, and its parallels with dikaiosune are notable:

1. Confucius's concept of ren entails a wide scope of meaning. It is 'described as something that includes other desirable qualities' (Kwong-Loi Shun: 53).13

2. But it is also listed as one desirable quality among others such as courage and wisdom (W9.29, W14.28).

3. Ren is a virtue, which regulates our relationships with others. Confucius said the 'direction which unifies everything' and the 'single saying that can keep watch on one's actions throughout one's life is this: considerateness – that which one disfavors, apply not to others' (W4.15, W12.2, W15.24).

4. Ren is related to harmony: harmony of the individual within 'the social framework of the ideal state' (Jiuan-Yu: 327). 'The central Confucian idea is represented by a Chinese character that has been explained pictographically as consisting of two parts: the component for "human" and the component for "two." That is, it represents two people standing together in harmony' (Haberman: 16).

5. Ren is an agent-centered ethical ideal. One who becomes chun-tzu exhibits ren. Confucius emphasizes, 'There never existed a ren man who was not Chun-Tzu' (W14.7).

6. With a full reading of the Analects, one senses that it represents the 'consummation of personal ethical excellence' (Van Norden: 27). Confucius states, 'A man who finds ren attractive cannot be surpassed' (4.6).14

In sum, it may be observed that ren has to do with the right relation of parts – that is the right relation of the individual to his family, to others, and to the state. Confucius said, 'By being a good son and friendly to his brothers a man can exert an influence upon government' (L2.21). And so, "the transformation of society begins with the cultivation of self within the environment of the family; it then spreads out like ripples caused from throwing a pebble in a still pond" (Haberman: 17).

Comparisons

It must be conceded that there are differences in these two teachers' concepts of their moral ideals – namely that dikaiosune draws parallels between the harmony of the state and the harmony of the soul, while ren draws parallels between the harmony of the state and the harmony of the family. Yet one must observe that both dikaiosune15 and ren entail a wide scope of ethical significance; neither term represents virtue in total. Both terms involve the regulation of relationship with others, both terms emphasize a right relation of parts, both terms describe a condition of harmony, and both terms embody an agent-centered ideal.

Therefore, a careful study of the terms dikaiosune and ren reveals a striking if (perhaps) imprecise similitude of concept.

Pedagogy
Having established a certain parallel between the two concepts, one may consider a question of method. A careful study of these Greek and Chinese approaches reveals a striking, if (perhaps) imprecise similitude of pedagogy. But this similitude is first noted when comparing the apparent ambiguity of both teachers.

Ambiguity

Plato and Confucius seem to contradict themselves in their claims about why one should pursue dikaiosune/ren. Should one pursue these ethical ideals for their own sake or for the sake of their benefits? Their apparent contradiction seems to belie their justification of the moral life.

In Book VI of the Analects, Confucius says, 'The wise are happy, but the ren, secure' (W6.21). He teaches that the man with a heart of the chun-tzu (hero/scholar) 'will never seek life at the expense of ren; and it may be that he has to give his life in order to achieve ren' (W15.8). He teaches that the chun-tzu focuses on virtue and responsibilities, while a common man focuses on 'gaining advantage' (L4.11). And he adds, 'Indulging in activities aimed at yielding personal gain yields complaints' (L4.12).

But in Book IX of the Analects, Confucius also says, 'He that is really ren can never be unhappy' (W9.28). In Book VI, he allows that the man with ren will 'seek reward' (W6.22). In Book IX, he says, 'A man with ren [has] no worries' (L9.30). And in book XV, a wise man needs ren 'to secure power' (W15.32). So on the one hand, Confucius seems to justify ren by extolling its intrinsic value. While on the other hand, he seems to encourage ren for the sake of its instrumental value.

In Book I of the Republic, Thrasymachus 'roars into the midst' of the dialogue with Glaucon and Adeimantus to demand that Socrates16 justify dikaiosune. Thrasymachus warns, 'And don't tell me that it is the right, the beneficial, the profitable...' (336d). He insists that 'dikaiosune is what is advantageous to the stronger, while pleonexia (the antithesis of dikaiosune) is to one's own profit and advantage' (344c). In Book II, Glaucon and Adeimantus take up Thrasymachus' challenge, with Glaucon demanding 'I want to hear it [dikaiosune] praised by itself' (365d), and with Adeimantus demanding that Socrates show 'how – because of its very self – it benefits its possessors' (367d).

Socrates' response to this formidable challenge is complex, if not inconsistent. He has been widely accused of committing a fallacy of equivocation – that is, of proving something different from what he was asked to prove (what does having a rightly ordered soul have to do with keeping one from stealing?). Moreover, commentators struggle with determining whether Socrates advocated an intrinsic or an instrumental ethic. Throughout the end of the Book IV, he seems to argue that dikaiosune is worth having for its own merit. More particularly, he sets out a theory of human nature and its harmony as a state of dikaiosune. Then in Book VIII and IX, he returns to Glaucon's challenge, this time arguing that dikaiosune is worth having for the sake of its consequences.

Justification of ren

One must admit at the outset that this investigation has certain limitations. The first is its necessary brevity. This limitation is further complicated by the difference in communication styles between Plato and Confucius. Whereas the former presents a detailed argument, the latter, with typical eastern crypticism, presents a series of descriptive statements. And while one may construct an argument from these statements, it takes time to build a case.

A particular danger (ignored by many commentators), and quite tempting due to this paper's word limitations, arises from relying upon isolated proof texts. But the only responsible way to make a claim is to appraise the entire corpus. With this in mind, the Chinese text, the Waley translation, and the Li translation have all been carefully surveyed, with each reference to ren classified and indexed, then summarized in chart form to provide as concise an overview as possible.

It seems appropriate to admit the following weaknesses with this overview. Some of the sayings placed in the 'ambiguous' category could well be placed in the 'intrinsic' category, as Confucius often extols ren in a way that emphasizes its value, while just falling short of endorsing its absolute intrinsic value. Also, the translator's own bias can so easily influence his interpretation. Moreover, one cannot be sure that Confucius actually formed these stark categories in his own mind.

Still, it must be conceded that Confucius taught both the intrinsic and the instrumental value of ren. A summary textual analysis (excluding ambiguous references) indicates that he emphasized the intrinsic value of ren 53% percent of the time, and the instrumental value 47% percent of the time.17 Even if one allows that this paper erred in its classification of the sayings by a factor of 20%, an uncomfortable conundrum remains: Confucius justified ren on both intrinsic and instrumental grounds. The principal question, then, is this: how (or why) did Confucius take this approach?

The answer may be found by an exegesis of the key texts on which his approach pivots. Because of space limitations, only two may be examined, but they are truly representative. In Book IV, Confucius states that 'the ren man rests content with ren, but he that is merely wise pursues ren in the belief that it pays to do so' (4.2). And in Book VI, he says that 'a person with ren works hard first and seeks reward later – that is ren' (6.22). Three textual observations are in order.

1. The word 'merely' indicates that an individual may pursue ren for its benefits, but that an individual who becomes ren may become content solely with its transcendent value (rightness).

2. The words 'seek reward' indicate that ren may be sought for its benefits.

3. The words 'first' and 'later' indicate that there can be a relative primacy in one's motivation and that one may defer, as opposed to eliminate, the hope for benefits.

While this paper has not engaged in extensive critique of current commentary (there does not seem to be any available scholarship comparing ren and dikaiosune), it may be helpful to demonstrate, briefly, how these observation are complimented by the contemporary debate over Confucius's moral justification.

David Haberman argues that 'Confucius proposed "doing for nothing." Specifically, this involves doing what is right simply because it is morally right, and not for any other reason' (16). But Haberman's case is based upon just three (dubious) proof texts. Philip Ivanhoe helps to balance Haberman's position when he writes, 'Confucians insists that one follows the Way because it is the Way and not for the benefits to be derived there from. At the same time, they insist with equal conviction that only the Way can lead to a harmonious and flourishing society' (9).

Ivanhoe's corrective is useful, but it does not go far enough. Essentially, he argues that one may know that ren is beneficial while pursuing it for entirely different reasons. But Confucius was too practical for such distinctions. He continually reminded his disciples that ren is beneficial, while at the same time insisting that it was right.

Yen-Hui, a disciple of Confucius, states in the Analects: 'I see it in the front; but suddenly it is behind. Step-by-step the Master skillfully lures one on' (9.10). Steven Wilson's exegesis of 6.22 recognizes the balance in stating that the person of ren 'does not merely pursue virtue for instrumental reasons but because it is inherently desirable' (112).

In sum, Confucius knew that the disciple could not separate his knowledge of the benefits of ren from his motivation for pursuing it. Instead, he extolled the deontological value of ren, while emphasizing the teleological benefits. He taught that ren is beneficial. It is not ren because it is beneficial; it is beneficial because it is ren. By becoming a chen-tzu, the individual may embody the intrinsic value of ren while experiencing its instrumental value.

Justification of Dikaiosune

Once again, the limitations of this paper prevent a detailed analysis of the Republic. Instead, we will focus on one vital passage, using it as a lens with which to see into Plato's attempt to justify dikaiosune.

In Book II, as part of the argument mentioned earlier, Glaucon distinguishes three classes of good things: (C1) a good we 'welcome for its own sake,' (C2) a good 'we like for its own sake and also for the sake of what comes from it,' and (C3) a good we would choose 'for the sake of the rewards' (357b-d). He then asks Socrates the pointed question, 'Where do you put dikaiosune?' His choices may be illustrated as follows:

The precise wording of Socrates' answer reveals the fundamental assumption beneath the construct of the entire Republic. Socrates replies that dikaiosune is 'to be valued by anyone who is going to be blessed with happiness, both because of itself and because of what comes from it' (358a).

With the words 'because of itself and because of what comes from it,' it may appear that Socrates is placing dikaiosune squarely in C2, but this assumption is incorrect. Instead, Socrates deftly reframes the context of his answer (a typical Socratic move) by adding a new category to Glaucon's construct:

The key to this passage18 is the phrase: to be blessed with [ultimate] happiness. Glaucon uses the terms 'harmless pleasures,' 'rewards,' and 'other things,' but Socrates replaces these words with the overarching (root) term eudaimonia. Essentially, he subordinates pleasure to the larger category of ultimate happiness. His answer may be illustrated as follows:

Essentially Socrates is saying, 'Yes, Glaucon, dikaiosune may be valued both for itself and because of what comes of it – but in a higher way than you understand.' He then proceeds to argue for both the intrinsic and the instrumental value of dikaiosune. The primary argument may be summarized as follows:

1. Dikaiosune is justified both for its intrinsic and its instrumental value.
1.1 Dikaiosune has intrinsic value because it constitutes a part of eudaimonia (and thus it is related non-casually to eudaimonia). – Books II-IV
1.1.1. It constitutes a part of eudaimonia because it is a state where parts are rightly related.
1.2. Dikaiosune has instrumental value because it contributes to other parts of eudaimonia (and thus it is related casually to eudaimonia). – Books VIII-IX
1.2.1. It contributes to other parts of eudaimonia because its presence causes certain benefits.

In sum, becoming dikaiosune is identical with achieving a part of eudaimonia. When one 'becomes dikaiosune,' one may also experience certain benefits. Dikaiosune, then, has both intrinsic and instrumental value.

This understanding helps to explain why Socrates argued for two (seemingly) opposing positions in Books II-IV and Books VIII-IX. It also helps to explain the strategy underlying Socrates' answer to Thrasymachus. Rather than arguing that dikaiosune is good for the weak and the strong, Socrates demonstrates the way in which dikaiosune enables the weak to become strong (through their harmony with the whole).

Socrates may not present a satisfactory argument,19 but he does not commit a fallacy of equivocation. Thrasymachus insists that 'dikaiosune is what is advantageous to the stronger' (344c). But Socrates demonstrates that those who become dikaiosune (philosophers) become strong (or healthy).

Comparisons

It must be conceded that there are differences in these two teachers' use of their moral pedagogies – namely that Plato advocated dikaiosune as good, whereas Confucius advocated ren as right.

Yet one must observe that both teachers, despite their vast cultural differences, developed an agent-centered ethical ideal; Plato advocated becoming a philosopher, while Confucius advocated becoming a chen-tzu. Both teachers sought to justify their moral ideal while motivating their students to pursue that ideal. And so, both argued for the intrinsic and the instrumental value of their ideals. Therefore, a careful study of Plato's and Confucius's uses of the terms dikaiosune and ren reveals a striking, if (perhaps) imprecise, similitude of pedagogy.

Conclusion
The goal of this paper has been to answer the question: Does a comparison of Plato's and Confucius's uses of the terms dikaiosune and ren reveal similar approaches to justifying the moral life?

With regard to concept, it may be concluded that both terms have to do with the right relation of parts, both terms entail a wide scope of meaning, both terms involve the regulation of our relationship with others, and both terms foster a condition of harmony. With regard to pedagogy, both teachers developed an agent-centered ethical ideal that encompassed reason and motivation. Both sought to justify their moral ideals while motivating their students to pursue those ideals. And so, both argued for the intrinsic and the instrumental value of their ideals. Therefore, a careful study of Plato's and Confucius's uses of the terms dikaiosune and ren reveal similar approaches to justifying the ethical life.

The parallel approaches of these East-West thinkers deserve note. Plato and Confucius seemed concerned about the application as well as the theory of ethics. The ethicist today might observe that if one abstracts instrumental value from ethical theory, one loses the appeal so necessary for ethical action. And if one abstracts intrinsic appeal from ethical theory, one loses the certitude so necessary for ethical resolve.

Bibliography

1. Annas, J., 1981, An Introduction to Plato's Republic, Oxford University Press Inc, New York.
2. Aristotle, 1925, The Nicomachean Ethics, D. Ross (trans.), revised by Ackrill and Urmson, Oxford University Press Inc, New York.
3. Confucius, 1979, Confucius: the Analects, D. C. Lau (trans.), Penguin Classics, London.
4. Confucius, 1999, The Analects of Confucius, A New-Millennium Translation, D.H. Li (trans.), Premier Publishing, Maryland.
5. Confucius, 2000, The Analects, A. Waley (trans.), Allen, S. (intro.), Alfred A, Knopf, Inc, New York.
6. Creel, H.G., 1949, Confucius and the Chinese Way, First Harper Torchbook, New York.
7. Ferguson, John, 1958, Moral Values in the Ancient World, Methuen, London.
8. Irwin, T., 1995, Plato's Ethics, Oxford University Press Inc, New York.
9. Ivanhoe, P.J., 2000, Confucian Moral Self Cultivation, Second Edition, Hackett Publishing Inc, Indianapolis.
10. Ivanhoe, P.J., 2002, Ethics in the Confucian Edition Tradition, Second Edition, Hackett Publishing Inc, Indianapolis.
11. Plato, 1997, The Complete Works, J.M. Cooper, (ed.), Hackett, Indianapolis.
12. Shun, Kwong-Loi, 'Jen and LI in the Analects', Philosophy East & West Volume 43 Issue 3 (1993), 458.
13. Stevenson, L. and D.L. Haberman, 2004, Ten Theories of Human Nature, Fourth Edition, Oxford University Press Inc, New York.
14. Van Norden, B.W. (ed.), 2002, Confucius and the Analects, New Essays, Oxford University Press Inc, New York.
15. Yu, Jiyuan, 'Virtue: Confucius and Aristotle', Philosophy East & West Volume 48 Issue 2 (1998), 326.

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NOTE: You don't need to be a mathematician to understand this piece. (I am not a mathematician.) You can skip over the Bay's Theorem diagrams. The point of the piece is to point out the dangers of attempting to ascertain truth. My own conclusions are a bit more cryptic than those revealed in this text.

Introduction
Luc Bovens and Stephen Hartmann, both professors at the London School of Economics, co-presented a lecture at the 'Third International and Interdisciplinary Conference on Modeling and Using Context' in Dundee, Scotland (2001). Their subsequent paper, entitled 'Belief Expansion, Contextual Fit and the Reliability of Information Sources,' attempts to develop a 'probabilistic criterion for belief expansion that is sensitive to the degree of contextual fit of the new information as well as the reliability of our information source' (1).

Boven and Hartmann argue that 'when a scientific community is presented with new data, this does not occur within a vacuum' these new data are being assessed on the background of a context of beliefs.' Most importantly, they claim that 'whether these new data will be accepted or not is a question of the reliability of the sources... as well as of their contextual fit' (2).

While the focus of their paper is on the philosophy of science, its implications for the philosophy of ethics, particularly divine command ethics, are significant. In recent years, there has been a resurgence of interest in divine command theory. Robert Merrihew Adams's essay, 'A Modified Theory of Divine Command Wrongness,'1 has sparked considerable debate. Others,2 including Philip Quinn3 and Richard Mouw,4 have contributed to the growing dialog.

Adams has addressed that particular and well-known problem for the divine command ethicist posed by Plato's Euthyphro Dilemma.5 Other proponents have argued along similar lines, correcting, embracing or extending Adams's position. But few of the recent papers have addressed the seminal issue underscoring all divine command theory – that is, even if the notion of a divine command ethics is viable, how does one know that a distinct command is of divine origin? More particularly, how does one judge the truth of two contrary claims, when both purport to be of divine origin? The issue is, in essence, a question of epistemology.6 And until it is answered, these other arguments have limited utility.

The aim of this essay is to argue in favor of modesty in relation to alleged claims of divine revelation, without denying that the revelation could have supreme authority, and more particularly to demonstrate how Hartmann's and Boven's observations regarding belief revision in science suggests a very specific problem for the divine command ethicist. I will argue that this problem embodies something of an 'epistemological trap,' in that one's prior acceptance of a divine ethical standard limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing divine ethical standard. If one is wrong in his earlier conclusion, he is almost unable to evaluate and accept the new standard.

Background
Boven and Hartmann begin their paper with what they call the 'parable about belief expansion.' The parable attempts to illustrate a scenario wherein a new item of information is being presented by a new source of information. The question arises, 'Are we justified to add this new information to what we already know?'

I go to a lecture about wildlife in Greenland which was supposed to be delivered by an expert in the field. When I arrive, I notice that the expert has excused himself and that the biology department has sent a newcomer to fill in for him. I have no beliefs about wildlife in Greenland, but I do have some about Greenland's climate and about the kinds of climate conditions that various types of wildlife favor. (2)

Having established the background, they posit a scenario where the newcomer proclaims three different propositions:

1. That a particular valley in Greenland has large colonies of wild elk
2. That a particular valley in Greenland has large colonies of wild armadillo
3. That a particular valley in Greenland has large colonies of wild boar

Boven and Hartmann suggest that they would be willing to accept Proposition 1 based on their existing belief set. They would not be willing to accept Proposition 2 from either the 'newcomer' or the absent 'expert.' They might be willing to accept Proposition 3, but only if it were espoused by the absent expert. The authors explain, 'when it comes to wild boars the difference between the newcomer's and the expert's credentials simply make for the difference.' They conclude,7 'the more reliable the information source is, the less contextual fit is required for me to be justified to add the belief...' (2).

Next, they construct a mathematical model of the same concept. And while one does not need to be a mathematician to appreciate the conclusions of this model, to fully grasp their approach, one must refer to their paper directly. For the limited purposes of this investigation, however, their equations will only be summarized.

They begin by seeking to establish the following:

1. That a new set of propositions are independent of each other

2. That (for the sake of simplification) all of their sources are equally unreliable

Then, they attempt to quantify the following:

3. The degree of confidence in the background information8 (the existing belief set) before the new data

4. A threshold value for justifying their belief

5. The degree of confidence in the background information conjoint with the new information9

Lastly, they calculate the following:

6. That they are justified to expand their belief set just in case10

Now, it is possible to postulate two scenarios wherein one has a set of ethical beliefs, and wherein one is challenged with a new ethical idea. In the first scenario, this new item has a high degree of contextual fit. In the second, this new item has a low degree of contextual fit.

Scenario 1:

Scenario 2:

If t =.80 (see point 6), one may justify expanding their belief set based on the reliability of the sources in Scenario 1, but not in Scenario 2 (note the number .99 in Scenario 1, and the number .76 in Scenario 2). The point is relatively simple. To create a condition where the new ethical idea is accepted, one must either lower the standard (below .80) or increase the reliability of the idea's source (above .76).

Implications
Boven and Hartmann's primary contribution in their paper is the recognition of this ratio between contextual fit and source reliability.11 They rightly argue that for a new idea to be accepted, it must fit well with an existing set of beliefs or it must have extremely reliable source.

This has significant implications for the ethicist. One might suppose that Abraham's compliance with God's command to murder Isaac was a very specific type of ethical situation wherein there was an extremely low contextual fit. That is, (we might assume)12 Abraham believed murdering innocent children was wrong, but that Abraham had extreme confidence in his information source, that is (he believed) God himself commanded the deed.

By its very nature, a divine command represents the claim of ultimate authority. It is either divine/ultimate or not. There is no room for middle ground. One may be semi-sure that a given command is divine, but this does not mitigate the fact that the command itself cannot be semi-divine. This is an important distinction. The purpose of this paper does not entail establishing a criterion for determining if a given command is divine, but rather it attempts to show certain implications that arise from the fact that a given command is potentially absolutely divine.

To move forward, one must 'stretch' Boven's and Hartmann's equation to the extreme. Of particular interest is the special case where the contextual fit is almost nil but the source of the new idea is potentially infinitely reliable. Consider a scenario wherein a particular divine command ethicist is committed to a particular set of ethical beliefs based on a particular set of divine commands. Then, for the purpose of this investigation, assume that this ethicist is in error, and that the truth lies with a competing set of divine commands.

How does this ethicist realize her error? Can she use the tool of logic to correct her thinking?

Argument
This paper contends that one's prior acceptance of a divine ethical standard limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing divine ethical standard. The form of its argument is as follows:

Wherein:
P. An ultimate authority claim (UAC) is self-attesting.
Q. One cannot reasonably evaluate a UAC by a competing UAC.
R. One's prior acceptance of a UAC limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing UAC.

1. P→Q
2. Q→R
3. P
4. P→R (Hypothetical Syllogism 1, 2)
5. R (Modus Pollens 3, 4)

So that:

1. If a UAC is self-attesting, then one cannot reasonably evaluate a UAC by a competing UAC.
2. If one cannot reasonably evaluate a UAC by a competing UAC, then one's prior acceptance of a UAC limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing UAC.
3. A UAC is self-attesting.
4. If a UAC is self-attesting, then one's prior acceptance of a UAC limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing UAC.
5. Therefore, one's prior acceptance of a UAC limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing UAC.

From this form, we adopt this final syllogism:

6. One's prior acceptance of a UAC limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing UAC.
7. A divine ethical standard is a UAC.
8. Therefore, one's prior acceptance of a divine ethical standard limits one's capacity to evaluate a competing divine ethical standard.

Point 7 is reasonably evident. Clearly, this argument (especially points 1-5, 6, and 8) rests on the propositions P and Q. Moreover, since P is more a matter of explanation than attestation, it will briefly be examined, while Q will receive the most attention.

The Case for Proposition P

Boven and Hartman recognized that a problem with contextual fit may be remedied by an increase in the reliability of the source, though the two authors did not envision a scenario wherein the reliability of the source is absolute. But this challenging possibility is synonymous with the essence of a UAC.

A UAC is self-attesting. It occupies a distinct philosophical category precisely because it could be issued by an ultimate authority. If and only if a UAC was actually issued by an ultimate authority, then it would be supported by ultimate attributes (for instance, power and knowledge). If and only if a UAC were supported by ultimate attributes, then its highest endorsement can only come from itself.

So then, the position of an ultimate authority is not endangered by the objection of a limited authority. And one cannot subject an ultimate authority to a limited authority without implying that the limited authority is actually higher than the ultimate authority (there can be only one ultimate13), so that to persist with an evaluation of a UAC by a limited authority is, in effect, to elevate the limited authority to the status of ultimate authority.

This has significant implications for the divine command ethicist. A divine command is essentially a UAC, and as such, it is self-attesting, so that one cannot reasonably evaluate a divine command by a competing divine command. This leads us to a discussion of Q.

The Case for Proposition Q

One cannot reasonably evaluate a UAC by a competing UAC, because to employ an ultimate authority to validate/invalidate another ultimate authority is to start with a proposition that assumes the conclusion. But one cannot argue with a proposition that assumes the conclusion. Such an argument might be stated as follows:

Wherein:
x = an ultimate authority claim
y = a competing ultimate authority claim

(P) If x agrees with y, then y is true.
(Q) x does not agree with y.
(R) Therefore, y is not true.

In keeping with the special nature of a UAC, x and y are mutually exclusive (there can be only one ultimate), so to begin an argument with x is to summarily invalidate y. This approach results in the fallacy of petito principii. Therefore, one cannot rationally evaluate a UAC by a competing UAC.

Still, it might be objected that while the divine command ethicist may not substitute x with a competing agent, she may substitute x with a decisive standard, such as reason. So that, in favor of that standard, she might reject the previous UAC in favor of the new UAC. Indeed, the divine command ethicist might simply claim that, based on new facts, the competing UAC is the most reasonable choice.

But the standard by which one evaluates a UAC must come from the UAC itself. As demonstrated earlier, a UAC is potentially supported by ultimate attributes, so that its highest endorsement can only come from itself. One cannot subject a UAC to the standard derived from a lesser authority claim without implying (with circular reasoning) that the lesser authority is actually higher than the ultimate authority. Moreover, for one to assert that a UAC is subject to a particular external standard, one must make an ultimate authority claim oneself. The whole attempt is ludicrous.

Nevertheless, it may be further objected (with considerable force) that one may derive some standard of reason from the UAC itself, as some form of reason is necessarily involved in any claim. Mind is an expression of reason. Indeed, even to communicate a particular claim, one must employ a proposition.14 Without reason in its most basic form, one could hardly communicate at all. Accordingly, the divine command ethicist might draw a standard of reason from the original UAC with which to evaluate the new, competing UAC.

But to evaluate a UAC with reason implies both an agent and a standard. One cannot separate the two. The divine command ethicist, by virtue of her acceptance of the possiblity of the divine, finds herself in the very precarious position of a severely limited agent evaluating a potentially unlimited agent (ultimate authority). Three observations are in order:

First, she must attempt the (tenuous) project of self-evaluation. Did she have an authentic experience? Or was there a mitigating factor in her mind or body that precipitated her experience?

Second, having determined her own reliability, she must somehow evaluate the reliability of the ultimate authority. And in most (if not all cases) the only way she has to evaluate the authenticity of the ultimate authority is to evaluate the new claim itself. Somehow, she must establish that she has an epistemic warrant for the authenticity of the claim, which in turn implies that she has an epistemic warrant for the authenticity of the authority.

Third, for this process to be plausible, her evaluation tool (reason) must be sufficient to discern truth. She must be able to subject the new claim to the powers of her reason and either reject or accept it.

Herein lies her challenge: reason may be necessary to corroborate truth, but it is not (always) sufficient. Reason is a process that is dependent upon information (principles, meanings, premises). If one starts with incomplete or incorrect information, one may correctly employ reason and yet arrive at a wrong (though valid) conclusion.

Reason, then, is necessarily limited. This limitation comes not because of its deficiency, but because of its insufficiency. To some extent, the force of reason is limited by its agent's (a) capacity and (b) knowledge. The problem may be illustrated with a minor formula:

Wherein:
x = capacity
y = knowledge

The left side of the equation represents an ultimate authority with infinite capacity and knowledge, while the right represents a limited authority with an arbitrary quantity of capacity and knowledge. The differential15 between the limited agent and the unlimited (ultimate) authority leads to a principle difficulty for the divine command ethicist seeking to evaluate a UAC.

There are potential cases wherein a claim may only appear irrational to an agent with lesser knowledge or capacity. For example:

An ill little girl may reason that it is cruel for a physician to force a needle into her arm.  She may conclude that the physician is only increasing her already severe pain, but her conclusion is likely wrong for at least two reasons. One, compared to the physician, she has a limited knowledge of medicine. Two, compared to the physician, she has limited capacity to reason.

Theoretically, the little girl may structure a valid argument (things that hurt me are bad, the needle is hurting me, therefore, the needle is bad), but its conclusion is/could be wrong. This is analogous to the divine command ethicist who is but a limited agent, with limited knowledge and limited capability, attempting to evaluate a potentially infinite agent, with unlimited knowledge and unlimited capacity.

The attempt hardly seems promising.

In sum, the divine command ethicist is faced with a peculiar problem not envisioned by Boven's and Hartman's idealizations – that special situation wherein the reliability factor of the source is potentially infinite. By virtue of her own acceptance of a divine command, she must accept the special category of ultimate authority claims – with all of its implications. Accordingly, she will find it particularly difficult to evaluate the claim of a new (and contrary) divine command, as the following chart illustrates:

Comparisons
To demonstrate the peculiar situation of one who accepts the possiblity of a UAC, it may be helpful to contrast the position of the divine command ethicist with the 'reason-centric ethicist.'16 This may best be accomplished by setting the two against each other in a brief argument:

Now, the reason-centric ethicist may begin his criticism of the divine command ethicist by arguing that unencumbered by an allegiance to the divine command of an ultimate authority, he is free to evaluate a new ethical claim with the tool of reason. Whereas the divine command ethicist is trapped by her obligation to the ultimate authority of the prior divine command and that for reasons already outlined, she cannot readily evaluate the new claim.

But the divine command ethicist is not without a defense. She may respond that for a reason-centric ethicist, (his limited level of) reason itself serves as the ipso de facto ultimate authority, so that in actuality, his position mirrors her own. After all, if reason is the ultimate authority for the reason-centric eth