Milbank and the papal cosh
The latest issue of Modern Theology features a handful of articles from key figures associated with the operation of the journal–whether formally or informally–throughout its twenty-five year history. The founder and former editor of the journal, Kenneth Surin, has a short “Retrospect/Prospect” article in the issue that reflects on the early establishment and formation of the journal in the context of the theological and political climate in Britain in the 1980s. Surin’s speculations on the “prospects” for academic theology praises recent developments in political theology, but bemoans the state of Roman Catholic theology. In comparison to 1945-1980, the time of the early liberation theology, Rahner, von Balthasar, de Lubac, Congar, Küng, Metz, Schillebeeckx, and Kasper, ”the last couple of decades have shown themselves to be a period of relative intellectual quiescence” (8). If the Roman Catholic church had opened its proverbial windows during the time of the Second Vatican Council, under the last two popes, in Surin’s view, “the shutters have been drawn again.” But, perhaps, it is no longer possible to be the “creative protagonist of a manifest ‘church poetics’ (in the manner of de Lubac and Congar, say)” in the Roman Catholic church. This “intellectual quiescence,” according to Surin, is largely the consequence of a “large papal cosh” which has for the past thirty years continually “descended on the heads of those suspected of deviancy in doctrinal matters” (9). However, as Nicholas Lash rightly points out, there were plenty of “large papal coshes” during the “golden age” of Catholic theology, including silencing and banishing, but in the end many of these thinkers were made cardinals. In other words, as Lash puts it, “there is little evidence that ‘papal coshes’stifle theological creativity” (51). Evidently, in Surin’s view, the theological situation is quite a bit better in Anglicanism–at least one could scarcely imagine, for instance, Rowan Williams leading some sort of an inquisition against John Milbank or Graham Ward in the way the “dreadful Cardinal Ratzinger” attacked Leonardo Boff and liberation theology. Again, Lash responds, I think rightly, by questioning the wisdom of such high praise for Anglicanism considering the current disaster in which the Anglican communion finds itself.
It is instructive to compare Ken Surin’s article with John Milbank’s article later in the issue. According to Milbank, the debate within Catholic theology is the only truly “vital” one. In fact, in typical Milbank fashion he offers us a ridiculous provocation: “a definitively Protestant theology is now extinct” (26). The divide in the theological world is no longer between “neo-orthodoxy” and “liberal theology,” but between what Milbank calls the “classical” and “romantic” “modes of orthodoxy.” For Milbank, the Barthians ended up utterly irrelevant–locked within their “fideist ghetto”–equally, liberal theology’s irrelevance was due to its constant embrace of cultural norms. So, apparently for the past twenty-five years theologians have been trying to seek out new modes of critical mediation–but, of course, Milbank is sure to remind us that a recovery of the analogia entis is the only solution, the only way to remain critical of secularism while remaining relevant. Now what is perhaps especially interesting about Milbank’s article is that he locates the new “vital” theological debate and indeed the new divide as a distinctly Roman Catholic one. Milbank sums up his understanding of the two positions: the former [the "romantic"] sees Wordsworth’s “feeling intellect” as lying at the heart of theology, while the latter [the "classical"] sees the role of an entirely “objective reason” as vital for theological practice” (28). Representatives of the “romantic” mode of orthodoxy are perhaps more readily obvious–essentially, Milbank is referring to the intellectual descendants of ressourcement and the nouveau theologie movement of which Communio, despite its problems, remains an important voice. Insofar as the “romantics” follow this line of tradition they are to be considered “radically orthodox” and so in common cause with the “fundamental outlook” of Radical Orthodoxy. Now, representatives of the “classical” mode of orthodoxy are quite a bit more obscure–here Milbank is thinking of the Thomism of Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, which is apparently making a comeback. This “classical” mode of orthodoxy is rationalistic and, in Milbank’s view, really could learn something from de Lubac’s rethinking of the natural-supernatural distinction. Now, we all know where Milbank stands, but what is interesting is that on more than one occasion Milbank seems to suggest that Ratzinger is the most faithful representative of this “romantic” mode of orthodoxy. In stark contrast to Surin’s account then, not only are the really vital debates in theology happening within Roman Catholicism, but that which in Milbank’s mind is most radically orthodox is nothing but Surin’s dreadful “papal cosh.” In fact, Milbank is quite explicit about his support of Ratzinger’s ecclesiology and the need for the type of authority in the church that Surin condemns.
Of course the real irony is the fact that Milbank remains protestant. One wonders whether Milbank is really willing to commit–to obediently submit himself to the “papal cosh” of the “dreadful” Pope Benedict XVI.
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