Cynical Theories: a Review

Have you read White Fragility or How to Be an Anti-Racist? Even if you haven’t read them, you’ve probably heard of them. I’ve heard from WORLD readers who are making a good-faith effort to examine their own biases by exposing themselves to challenging points of view from the Times best-seller list. I applaud the motivation, but some of those books should come with warning labels: Ideas produced in the hothouse atmosphere of the modern university may not be profitable for the real world.

So don’t read those without reading this: Critical Theories: How Activist Scholarship Made Everything about Race Gender, and Identity—and Why This Harms Everybody.  Cynical Theories, by two academics who have been there, tracks antiracism to its source. Also radical feminism, post-colonialism, toxic masculinity, trans identity, genderqueerness, body positivity, fat shaming, and intersectionality. Even if you’re not aware of those things, they are aware of you, especially if you’re white, straight, and male. Or if you disagree with any proposition from the toxic well of Theory.

“Theory” is the broadest term for all the academic disciplines examining power and privilege. It’s rapidly expanding to embrace all the academic disciplines, including the hard sciences and mathematics. How did this happen?

It goes back to a sickly academic trend called postmodernism. Michael Foucault and Jacques Derrida were major advocates of postmodernism, with its prevailing view that truth is socially constructed. What you might understand as a “fact” is actually a composite of points of view, inferences, and assumptions from your social strata. In fact, there’s no such thing as a fact. Truth is not just relative, it’s meaningless. The only thing that matters is power: who has it, and how they exercise it.

Postmodernism killed literature by divorcing it from any meaning the author might have had in mind and “deconstructing” it to uncover the underlying power plays. The disease soon spread to the arts and social sciences. When I first learned about postmodernism in the early nineties, it seemed a dead-end philosophy. That turned out to be true, but I didn’t suspect what might revive its gasping, expiring body. The salvation of postmodernism was Theory, which clarified its precepts, expanded its reach, and made it, not an academic discipline, but a Dogma and  a righteous Cause.

The precepts are these:

  • All knowledge is socially constructed, with language (“discourse”) as the creative agent. This includes the hard sciences and mathematics.
  • All knowledge works to privilege the identity group to which it belongs by race, sex, gender, nationality, or physical characteristics.
  • The identity group with the highest privilege are straight white males, who have successfully structured society to maintain their dominant position.
  • All other groups (and intersectional combinations of groups) are thereby oppressed.
  • The only remedy for oppression is to deconstruct white male privilege by making it stand down while other identities and “ways of knowing” achieve an equal place at the table.
  • If this set of propositions seems to lack empirical evidence, well, empiricism itself is a white male invention and thereby suspect.

Do you see anything that might need to be deconstructed here?

Like most social analysis, Cynical Theories probably overstates its case, but I found it helpful and illuminating. If leftist agnostics are blowing the whistle, we’d better listen.

Keeping Watch . . . for What?

Jesus said it many times: Watch out! Or simply, Watch! A watchman scans the horizon for enemy attack. In dangerous situations it’s his responsibility to listen for any alien sound and notice any untoward movement so he can alert the city. A watchman is the first line of defense. Someone has to stay awake at the firehouse. Someone has to be on alert at the bank or the political rally. That someone, in ordinary life, is every Christian.

What are we to watch for? First, threats like “your adversary the devil, seeking someone to devour” (I Peter 5:8). Also, those who cause divisions (Romans 16:17), who undermine sound teaching (I Tim. 4:6), who stir up trouble (Gal. 5:15). And finally, we are to watch ourselves, that we do not become careless and neglectful—even to losing what we worked for (II John 8). The world, the flesh, and the devil are all opposed to us. We forget that. We try to be friends with the world while picking fights in the church and making peace with ourselves. We sleep on the job, only to wake up with a start as Jesus stands over us, sadly shaking his head. “Could you not watch with me for one hour?”

One hour? How about a lifetime? From the moment we’re born again to the moment our story on earth ends, we’re supposed to be on our guard for the enemies who would pull us down. That kind of alertness is defensive.

But there’s another kind of watchfulness: the kind that actively looks for him to show up. He’ll be coming in the clouds for everybody to see some day, but I think there’s might be another  kind of Second Coming as well—not only a one-time event but an ongoing phenomenon. He was there, in the person of the Holy Spirit, when I believed. He meets with me in prayer. He ministers to me through the good works of the church, and ministers to others through me. He is always coming: Abide in me, as I abide in you.

Be on your guard against false teaching, the leaven of the Pharisees, the destructive aims of the devil, the inclinations of my own heart to sloth and neglect. Be the alert sentry, ready to sound the alarm while patrolling the wall of your soul or scouting enemy territory.

But also, be the faithful servant, tending the grate and freshening the flowers in anticipation of the master’s arrival. Watch for Jesus to show up in the hour-by-hour. If I’m looking for him, he will.

The Problem with “Forgive Us Our Debts”

Jesus himself taught us to pray this way, so of course it’s biblically correct: “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.” In teaching, we usually focus on the second half—our own obligation to forgive those who have sinned against us. But I’m discovering a problem with the first part.

The problem is this: it’s too easy to say, “and forgive me for . . .” Often I add, “Please,” which seems to amplify the request.

You’ve heard the saying, “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.” That’s a clue to the problem. The more explicit form is this: “I know God will forgive me. That’s his job.” I’ve actually heard the idea expressed in those terms. Most of us wouldn’t put it that way, but do we catch ourselves thinking it?

I do.

It can become too easy to ask forgiveness, because it is God’s job to forgive. It’s a task he assigned to himself, in order to reconcile rebels. But for a holy God, it’s not an easy thing to do, because offenses against holiness must be paid for. Holiness Himself paid, not with silver or gold or any other perishable thing, but with the precious blood of his own Son, like that of a perpetual spotless lamb (I Pet. 1:18-19).

It is God’s job to forgive; it is mine to repent.

But while it is God’s to forgive, it is mine to repent. He knows my weakness, and how I have to repent the same sins over and over. But I know this too: I am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy powerful hand. It can become too easy to say, “and forgive me for . . .” and let it go at that. “Forgive me” puts the burden on him, and it’s true that only he can bear the burden of the penalty. And forgiveness is his job, because only he can forgive sins against himself (as all sins are).

But I bear the burden of repentance. “I confess” or “I repent” or even “I am sorry for—” returns that burden to me. Where it belongs.

“Forgive us our debts” is biblical, and when it focuses our attention on God’s miraculous grace in not only forgiving, but making it possible for him to forgive, the request is righteous. But even forgiven sinners run the risk of becoming comfortable with their less-heinous sins like judgmentalism, laziness, self-indulgence, neglect, and complacency, assuming it’s all covered with a blank check.

“Christian” habits can become as soul-defeating as secular ones.

After reaching Square One of salvation and deliverance from obvious transgressions, even after achieving some level of spiritual practice like church attendance and prayer, “Christian” habits can become as soul-defeating as secular ones.

I am not as sorry as I should be. I am not as repentant as I should be. I am not as resolved to do better as I should be. Sin doesn’t grieve me as it should. Grace covers this too, but “Be careful how you walk,” and what you say, and how you think. True repentance comes from a transformed heart, and transformation isn’t a one-time deal. It’s always going on, and while praying for forgiveness, I need to pray even more earnestly for that every-increasing likeness to Christ.