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In my book, Pro-Justice Ethics, I define justice as an act of protesting, preventing, and remedying situations that arouse a sense of injustice. Formally, injustice is the violation of fairness, equality, and dignity; and the experience of injustice activates the justice imperative: “Act so as to promote justice in all situations for all times and places.” The beginning of ethical theory is the critique of injustice.
In this essay, I examine current situations of freshwater scarcity from the standpoint of pro-justice ethics. Water scarcity means that the amount of water withdrawn from rivers, lakes, or aquifers is so great that existing water supplies cannot satisfy human and ecosystem requirements. This essay (1) surveys factors of freshwater scarcity, (2) exposes the injustices of corporate water privatization, (3) discusses the concept of sacramental commons in the context of public trust doctrines, and (4) argues for a human right to water in relation to the intrinsic value of water in nature.
In 1984, Richard John Neuhaus's book, The Naked Public Square, initiated a proliferation of publications addressing the role of religion in public life. Many of these echoed Neuhaus's concern that a strict adherence to the separation of church and state, particularly by the U.S. Supreme Court, has marginalized religious voices to the detriment of American culture. Consequently, the separationist position is now widely understood to mean that, as the following quote from a text on religion and politics illustrates, religion is to be kept out of public life.
The separationist position believes that religion should be kept in the private realm. It tends to emphasize the problems involved in the absolute nature of religion's claims over and against the compromises required for democratic life. Thus religious claims tend to divide the culture, rather than to unite it, which makes religion a potentially dangerous element in public life, and it should be kept in the private realm.
Saul, a Jew, later called Paul, was born in the predominately Greek city of Tarsus located in Asia Minor. The Greek Jew was a zealous Pharisee and a contemporary of Jesus although he had not seen him. One day in approximately 35 A.D. he was traveling to Damascus to arrest Christians who were to be punished (persecuted). On the road to Damascus he was met by Christ, who asked him: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? And he (Paul) said, ‘Who are you Lord?’ And he said, ‘I am Jesus whom you are persecuting …’” (Acts 9:4-5). Paul fell into a coma and lost his sight which was restored three days later by Christ's agent. He was utterly convinced and never doubted that he had been authorized by Christ to be an apostle.
The most important facts that should never be lost sight of are, first, that Paul's experience on the road to Damascus was so dramatic, emotional, and intense that his consequent profound faith in Christ must supply the premise of any interpretation of his epistles. Second, quite different but also extremely important is the almost universal agreement that Paul was a genius. In sum, we are dealing with the discourse of a genius, a very emotional one, who had an overwhelming experience that made faith in Christ paramount in all aspects of his subsequent life.
In the six decades since it began adjudicating issues involving religion and K-12 education, the United States Supreme Court has issued numerous opinions on various aspects of that relationship. Several of the Court's viewpoints have changed over time. It explicitly reversed itself on the constitutionality of using publicly-paid specialists in parochial schools, and dramatically changed its perspective on public funds flowing to those institutions. But the Court has never wavered on issues regarding religious activities in public schools—it has struck down every policy or program it has chosen to review. No opinion was unanimous, and rationales changed. But no result has diverged from the Court's original perspective that the Establishment Clause's brightest line ran just outside the public school grounds.
This piece begins with first doctrinal, then policy reviews of the Court's nine school prayer decisions. Parts I and II analyze the decisions as constitutional doctrine, dividing them along parallel lines of time and quality. In Part I, I show that the holdings and rationales of the Court's early school prayer decisions are both sound and commendable as constitutional doctrine. Part II takes a longer look at the remaining later decisions however, and reveals a struggling Court often relying on specious, fabricated or a priori reasoning to reach the apparently inevitable, but questionable, conclusion of unconstitutionality. Part III takes up the effects of the Court's decisions on social and political policy. I argue that the early decisions, though controversial, freed America from a past of sectarian domination, while the later decisions helped sow the seeds of several related and unhappy developments, especially ones promoting the very religious divisions they purported to guard against.
The human rights claim asserts that every human being has certain moral rights. There are two ideas here. The first is the universality of the claim: every human being, no matter how weak, detested or criminal, counts morally. The second idea concerns how they count. Unlike a person's vote, which counts but can be disregarded if outnumbered, a human right denotes an area in which the individual is supreme and inviolable: one's right to life ought not be sacrificed simply because a majority, or its interests, so demand. Any theory of human rights, then, must account for both of these aspects. It must give the right sort of answer to the two questions, “who counts morally” and “how do we count them?”
Michael Perry has written a nuanced, insightful, provocative, often sensible, frequently convincing, and ultimately perplexing book. I am not sure what his thesis is. Since he titles the book as a series of “inquiries,” perhaps he doesn't have a unified thesis, or need one. And as an extended set of ponderings over the complexities of defining and defending human rights, this book certainly “works.”
The book's apparent thesis is set out in the introduction and repeated frequently thereafter: that it is not possible to understand talk about human rights, such as that contained in the International Bill of Human Rights, in secular terms. Instead, “the idea of human rights is … ineliminably religious.” This is so because the idea of human rights requires affirming that each person is “sacred” in relation to a holistic view of the world and its meaning, so that there are certain things that should not be done to and that should be done for any person. The only sort of view of the world and of the person within it that can ground the idea of human rights is a religious view, Perry suggests; there is no secular equivalent.