The Inadequacy of Exclusive Humanism
Taylor begins his Marianist Award lecture with a forthright admission on his part, as a Roman Catholic, that the decline of the ideal of Christendom (never realized) was necessary for the legitimate progress in the very core values professed by the Church, and own up to the "humbling realization" that the "authentic developments of the gospel" in modern liberal culture would not have been possible without the "breakout" from the confines of the older structures of belief. The examples will already be familiar from previous chapters. "For instance," Taylor points out,
modern liberal political culture is characterized by an affirmation of universal human rights–to life, freedom, citizenship, self-realization–which are seen as radically unconditional; that is, they are not dependent on such things as gender, cultural belonging, civilizational development, or religious allegiance, which always limited them in the past. As long as we are living within the terms of Christendom… we could never have attained this radical unconditionality. (CM16-17)
Although Taylor agrees that the decline of the hegemony of Christianity was a great boon for the West, he argues that it comes with dangers of its own. Once again we find Taylor exploring both sides in the debate, finding losses and gains in each. Here I want to focus on one complication in particular, one specific matter that, if Taylor is correct, should be a very serious concern indeed. Taylor thinks that we in the late modern West are "living beyond our moral means" as he claims in Sources of the Self (SS 517), and in A Catholic Modernity? he elaborates on this.
In the final section IV of A Catholic Modernity? Taylor returns to, and elaborates, the problem of the strength of modern sources of morality that he raised in Sources of the Self. Taylor makes the case here that the transformation perspective is ultimately preferable to the "stripped-down" secular view now dominant in our culture in the wake of secularity 3. He does not, however, think that there can be an argument for the superiority of the transcendent perspective in absolute terms.
Many critics of modernity begin from the point of view that modernity is deeply fractured, and in deep disagreement over first things. Taylor begins from the opposite pole. He argues that nearly all of us share the same highest moral standards. As an example of this deep agreement Taylor points to a convergence in terms of personal resonance when presented with examples of practical efforts to make good on the universality of our moral standards. We are all (or should be) moved by examples of solidarity with people on the opposite side of the globe, of philanthropic endeavors such as Medcine Sans Frontiéres. The list is long:
The more impressed one is with this colossal extension of a gospel ethic to a universal solidarity, to a concern for human beings on the other side of the globe whom we shall never meet or need as companions or compatriots… the more we contemplate all this, the more surprise we can feel at people who generate the motivation to engage in these enterprises… [and] the less surprised we are when the motivation… flags, as we see in the present hardening of feeling against the impoverished and disfavored in western democracies. (CM 30-31)
Taylor's claim that "our age makes higher demands for solidarity and benevolence on people today than ever before" is clear enough to be uncontroversial. The question, however, is whether there is enough motivating force for the practical work necessary to live up to humanist universal ideals without, in some sense, going beyond humanity. "[W]e are asked" according to Taylor, "to maintain standards of equality that cover wider and wider classes of people, bridge more and more kinds of difference, impinge more and more in our lives" (CM 30). The question is whether we can, as a culture, keep up the good work.
All of this presupposes that the commitment to the same underlying standards is part of the modern identity, and again, whether we are "living beyond our moral means" as Taylor puts the problematic in Sources of the Self (517). This dedication revealed in our affective responses, "have become part of our self-image, our sense of our own worth" and failure to live up to these standards leaves us with a sense of moral inadequacy, even as instances of particular success, or participation, give us "a sense of satisfaction and superiority when we contemplate others–our ancestors or contemporary illiberal societies–who didn't or don't recognize them" (CM 31).
Can the commitment to the high standards of humanism as Taylor conceives of it be sustained in just this way? Certainly, one might say that we have been doing well enough without answers to these questions, and that further argument over "sources" is unnecessary. For Taylor things are not so easy, as we briefly considered in Chapter Two. The motivation to practical engagement with the goal of healing of the world is "fragile" and "vulnerable" to setbacks as well as precipitous outpouring of philanthropy, and in too many cases ineffective. The unconditionality and universality with which a true humanism demands is very different from the "whimsical and fickle" philanthropy rooted in "shifting fashion of media attention and various modes of feel-good hype" (CM 31). To be clear here, although Taylor clearly is pessimistic about the present default secular sources for sustaining our affirmation, he is not cynical. Indeed, Taylor never doubts that our feats of philanthropy are honestly motivated by a genuine concern for humanity and by a true respect for human dignity. What he questions is whether the motivation is sustainable in the face of human failure.
In fact because the demanding standards of humanism are in principle realizable, the human failure practically to live up to these demands inevitably risks turning humanism against itself, and powering disgust for humanity. On the other hand, an in principle unachievable goal (in this life) has the advantage of inspiring in the face of human failure and weakness, as well as empowering continued action on behalf of the realization of the ideal, whether it is achievable in the lifetime of the individual or not and whether or not individual efforts every pay dividends in success. Taylor does not make this exact argument, but it is in line with his general thought. This is also a common theme in religious ethics, that postponing satisfaction in this life (renunciation) is part of the demands of a love of humanity, which in turn is rooted in a love beyond the human. From the perspective of the transformation we are called to labor on behalf of an ideal, not to achieve it. Is there a secular account that can fire a commitment to ideals unlikely to be achieved in this life without threatening to view any life of uncompromised dedication to be wasted if it required renunciation of ordinary human fulfillments?
Nicholas H. Smith understands Taylor to be making an indirect argument for the superiority of God as the only qualifying hypergood when measured against the problematic of adequacy. Smith is right to point out that for Taylor the question hinges on whether or not something like Christian unconditional love of humanity can be powered without some relation to a good beyond the human. Smith is also correct in his reading of Taylor's argument from A Catholic Modernity? to be an articulation of Taylor's account of why he thinks a theistic perspective is an adequate solution.
What I think Smith gets wrong is that he presupposes Taylor to be mounting an argument for religious transcendence in the strong sense. That this is not the case becomes clear when we consider the vision of transcendence as transformation as outlined above, and the promise of achieving a transformative perspective without a strong ontological theism. As Smith points out, Taylor thinks that because theism can give an answer to the question of what empowers us to unconditional love of humanity, and thus represents an "epistemic gain" over non-theism. Smith points out that theism can "tell us that the unconditional love of one human for another is made possible in relation to something transcendent, or participation in an infinite, non-human love. Human beings owe their power to realize the highest good to their relation to a transcendent power."
I do not read Taylor to be making an argument for the superiority of a theistic view in A Catholic Modernity? First of all, he is not doing philosophy per se in the address to his fellow Roman Catholics, who presumably do not need an argument. As I read Taylor, this is an articulation of theism as a moral source; he is giving an account of why it matters, not making the case for its superiority over other possible visions of transformation. If there is an argument here Taylor is claiming that our best hope for the possibility of an unflagging commitment to the practical primacy of human life lies in the rejection of the metaphysical primacy of life. Taylor's view doesn't, as Smith thinks, require God–it is not an argument exclusively for God, or for theistic sources alone, but may be generalized as an argument for an inclusive humanism, for the need of a view from the transformation perspective. The point is the need to believe even in the face of setbacks, and the impossibility of achieving in one's lifetime, or the impossible demands of realizing practically the exigencies of universal benevolence.
Beginning from where we already find ourselves, from our present avowal of universal benevolence and unconditional justice, Taylor challenges us to find sources strong enough to empower the fulfillment of the demands of these, our highest moral and spiritual ideals. God is Taylor's source, and he is not shy about his claims for its adequacy. He does not, however, think that it is the only way. Taylor's weak ontological theism is one possibility for an inclusive humanism, but it does not exhaust the human possibilities for transcendence as transformation adequate to the task. The failure of exclusive humanism should be taken as an opportunity to elaborate new sources as well as a project of retrieval of old sources. In this double project lies promise of a genuinely inclusive humanism.