Is That Legal?

The author’s thesis can be found on the first page as well as on the cover: the Catholic Church “built Western civilization” (1). It is apparent even to the casual observer that the Church has shaped Western culture through art, music, and architecture, but Woods is saying much more than this. Rather, the Catholic Church is in his view responsible for “one of Western civilization’s greatest—unique—intellectual contributions to the world”—the university (47). Catholicism “enabled” science, and it was no coincidence that modern science “developed largely in a Catholic milieu” (67). In addition, the Catholic Church gave “birth” to the “distinctly Western idea” of international law (135) as well as the idea of natural rights (202). Western morality was “decisively shaped by the Catholic Church” (203). Catholic thinkers were the “founders” of modern free-market economics as well (153). For the most part, Woods’ book is easy reading, and much of what he says is incontrovertible. In many ways the Church filled the vacuum that formed when the (Western) Roman Empire collapsed. As the dominant political, cultural, social, and, obviously, religious force in Europe for many centuries thereafter, the Church certainly shaped much of civilization in the West. One does not have to be Catholic to understand that Woods--part historian, part apologist--often speaks the truth.

There is nevertheless a fatal weakness, and it can be found not in what he says, but rather in what he doesn’t say.

The 1939 timeless classic The Fine Art of Propaganda describes several techniques used in manipulation. One of these is “card stacking.” It is the rhetorical equivalent of the bodybuilder who wears muscle shirts to show off his polished “guns” while wearing sweatpants to hide his untrained legs. Card-stackers overstate the significance of the evidence that supports their case while minimizing, or even neglecting, evidence that weakens it. In a biography (or autobiography), the glowing parts are put on a pedestal, the skeletons, closeted. I don’t know whether Woods PLAYS cards, but he definitely knows how to stack ‘em.
In the interests of space, a few examples will have to do. Woods points out that a “crucial task” of monks was the “preservation of the Bible,” an accurate observation, of course (42). Yet he fails to note the significant fact that Roman Catholic Church for a long time strongly discouraged lay believers from actually reading it. Woods’ failure to even mention Desiderius Erasmus is particularly revealing, as the “Prince of Humanists” possessed one of the greatest minds in all of Catholic history, and used his mastery of ancient languages to produce a Greek New Testament that Protestants used as the basis for their vernacular translations. The Roman Catholic opposition to this helped keep far too many Europeans illiterate; as David Cressy has noted, in Protestant regions (where the Bible was much more available) literacy rose sharply after the Reformation.

Even if one were to grant Woods a mulligan, it would do no good, since he slices into the woods practically every chapter. He notes how some Spanish Catholics well before Adam Smith spoke of free market economic theory, yet fails to point out that there was little “free market” about the Church’s long-time opposition to speculating, loaning of money at interest, and earning windfall profits. Not just that, soon after Columbus’s discovery Pope Alexander VI issued a bull effectively dividing the Americas into spheres of influence, thereby setting the stage for centuries not of free market capitalism, but of the anti free-trade philosophy of mercantilism.
In addition, it is true that Bartolome de las Casas and other priests actively opposed the enslavement and mistreatment of native Americans (145-146), yet there is a danger in thinking that this proves that the Catholic Church consistently supported human rights. It didn’t. Some popes defended the enslavement of Muslims and of other peoples, a fact that Woods conveniently fails to note.

In all fairness, Woods does not entirely skirt the issue of the Church’s inconsistencies and foibles. He does offer the blanket disclaimer “No serious Catholic would contend that the churchmen were right in every decision they made” (2). It is difficult to be impressed with such an admission, as if it is not already obvious to all that no one’s perfect. Disappointed will be the reader who is looking for a balanced, thoughtful appraisal of the Church’s total contribution to civilization. Historian Eamon Duffy (I met him when I was in grad school—a fine scholar) wrote a history of the papacy entitled Saints and Sinners. Woods, on the contrary, only discusses the saints, as if ignoring the rest (those who mistreated Jews, supported fascism, and violated the ideals of the Christian faith and of human decency) will make them go away.

Another way Woods engages in card stacking is by giving short shrift to the true builder of Western Civilization: classical antiquity. While he does not totally ignore the impact of Aristotle and other brilliant thinkers, such as the Stoics, too often he gives them lip service. Consider the obvious, begrudgingly offered generalization that the ”Church borrowed from the ancient world, to be sure” (219). By saying this Woods may think he has given proper attention to classical antiquity, but he has not. Much of what the church “built” was on the dusted-off foundation of Greco-Roman civilization, and they were not even the first to dust off parts of it (Muslims in Spain had one up on the Christians in some aspects of civilization). The theologians, philosophers, and monks who shaped medieval and early modern intellectual life were involved not as much in building as in home improvement.

One of the more intriguing examples of card stacking is in chapter five, where Woods attempts to depict the heliocentric Galileo as the culprit and the Roman Catholic Church as the oft-maligned victim. The problem with Galileo was that he “insisted on the literal truth” of Copernican theory (71) and “lacked anything approaching adequate evidence” (70). Woods is not the first to say this, as I have heard this before. His defense is better than most, but nevertheless falls a bit short.

No doubt, it is unfair to give too much of the blame to the Roman Catholic Church. For sure, some belongs to Galileo. Sometimes stubborn, sometimes difficult (no surprise there—he was an academic!), he could have handled the situation better. According to Woods, Galileo “ignored the instruction to treat Copernicanism as a hypothesis rather than as established truth.” While this is true, Woods paints only part of the picture (73).
Certainly Pope Urban VIII supported the charge of heresy, but we have no way of knowing for sure why. Some say it was pure politics. Urban was a ruthless politician in an age in which ruthlessness was prized, and by most accounts was more interested in wielding power than seeking truth (or protecting truth seekers). According to one theory, Urban was bitter that some higher-ups in the Church disagreed with his support of Protestant forces during the Thirty Years’ War. To those who saw the conflict only as the showdown between Protestants and Catholics, Urban’s allegiances made no sense. Galileo was a friend of the Medicis in Italy, but they were enemies of Urban. Galileo was hence caught in the middle, guilty by association. A better theory is that the pope felt betrayed that his old friend Galileo “insulted” him in his Dialogue Concerning the Two Chief World Systems, which had been published in 1632.

The fact is, no one knows for sure what they were really thinking. The official indictment states that Galileo was in trouble for advancing “several propositions contrary to the true sense and authority of the Holy Scripture”, and among these included “the proposition that the sun is in the center“ and “the proposition that the earth is not the center.” Were these the real reasons? Who knows? As for the charge that Galileo supported his hypothesis with insufficient evidence, few higher-ups in the Church knew enough mathematics and physics to determine that anyway. Most of them were philosophers and theologians—brilliant men, but unqualified to judge the cogency of Galileo’s contentions.

Woods claims that the Galileo fiasco does not prove that the Church was against science. Some contemporary scientists apparently did not agree, as many afterward were less inclined to publish in predominantly Catholic countries. In the future it was largely Protestant nations such as Britain that became the scientific and technological, and later industrial, leaders of Europe, partly because scientists felt more comfortable about conducting research there.

One of the key developments of the Scientific Revolution was the increased implementation of the scientific method. Historians too are trained in methodology, but one difference is in documentation. Historians are supposed to employ primary documents first. They need to use other sources too, such as previously published history monographs and articles, but they are not as important. There indeed is a reason why these are called “secondary” sources. As a History Ph.D., Woods must know about the proper techniques of historical research. For some reason, in this book his apparent mastery of them is not particularly evident.
Woods notes that in light of today’s ignorance about history “it must be frustrating to be a historian of medieval Europe” (3). That is one of the few times Woods makes a serious appeal to a “modern” medievalist. Woods does quote from Norman Cantor (14) but Cantor’s name does not appear in bibliography, so there is no way of knowing where it came from (one of many examples of sloppiness—there is no footnote either). Woods’ reliance on outdated secondary sources is particularly embarrassing when he states that the logician Peter of Spain later became Pope John XXI (57). We do not know for sure anymore whether he later became pope, something a historian more familiar with recent scholarship would have known.

There are other methodological problems. Considering that this book emphasizes medieval history, the author should have used primary sources from the medieval period. One is hard pressed to find some here. And what about Latin manuscripts and other archival materials, key sources of any serious student of medieval history? Even one?—but there are none.

One way that undergrads (and a few grad students) try to stretch the length of their papers is to cut paragraphs of material from secondary sources that could easily be paraphrased and paste them on their own papers. This is a popular technique among my own students, ranking second, in my opinion, to the bigger font/wider margins ploy. I was somewhat surprised to see so many of these here in the book (some quotations here are close to being one full page!). This is not necessarily evidence of sloppy research, but it looks unprofessional.

Although Woods does not state that he seeks to promote self-respect among fellow Catholics, he leaves enough verbal cues, starting from paragraph one, that this is one of his aims. He argues, without evidence, that “little is off limits when it comes to ridiculing and parodying the Church” and looks favorably on the assessment that anti-Catholicism is “the one remaining acceptable prejudice in America” (1), a conclusion with which Jews, homosexuals, the obese, and Muslims, among others, might not agree. As the parent of a severely autistic child, I have seen examples of discrimination in schools, businesses, and even in church, and I find that point breathtakingly naïve. Woods also on occasion engages in Protestant-bashing, conduct unbecoming of a person of faith. In all, the lack of historical evenhandedness in places reminds one of a Jack Chick tract. If Woods were honest in the introduction and warned his readers that they were about to read not history, but ideology, then one could overlook this as truth in advertising.

It would be a mistake, however, to think that Woods seeks to aggravate his readers. No doubt his intended audience is the paranoid Catholic who seriously thinks that his faith gets no respect. But Woods is perceptive, and he understands the importance of appealing to the values of his intended audience. One of the reasons why Regnery has become a major publisher is that it understands the marketplace and gives the people what they want. Likewise, Woods describes the Church in a way that would be most appealing to modern conservative readers. This is good marketing certainly, but is it good scholarship?

By focusing on science, free-market economics, education, and other twenty-first century interests, Woods unfortunately paints the Church as it wasn’t: a primarily secular institution. The Church universal over the centuries has had two principal missions, the worship of God and the sanctification of individual souls. To achieve these spiritual, otherworldly aims while under constant threats from outside and within (heresy, Islam, feudalism, upstart monarchs), the church has often been forced to play the morally repugnant game of power politics and engage in acts of violence and torture. There are many famous (and infamous) examples of this kind of papal leadership: Gelasius I, Crusading pope Urban II, Pope Innocent III, and the Tony Soprano-like “Renaissance popes.” And who can forget Torquemada?

Some of those critical of religion enjoy pointing out these examples of Machiavellian leadership, as if the Church is or can be only about power. But this was not the primary emphasis. Neither was science, philosophy, art, education, or for that matter torture against suspected heretics or war against the infidel. These were all tools—some justifiable, some not--to reach that primary goal: the kingdom of God.

That Woods would find it necessary to highlight the secular achievements of the Church in order to appeal to modern readers suggests that perhaps we ARE living in a world without God (the title of Woods’ conclusion). Those who study right-wing Christianity are often struck by the materialism, the lust for power, the appeal, in Pauline terms, not to the fruits of the Spirit but to the flesh. Indeed, some of those in the public eye as the “religious right” seem to be following the Me-attitudes instead of the Beatitudes. Hearkening back to St. Augustine, one wonders where they really live: the City of God, or the City of Man?

If this review were written for an academic publication, and not for a blog that deals with contemporary issues, I would not dare try this, but an apt illustration of my point might well be the unfortunate Terry Schiavo controversy from summer 2005. Years of testing revealed a heartbreaking truth: irreversible brain damage. A tragedy for sure, but if one believes in a God who is in control, only a temporary one, a prelude to eternal glory. But instead of letting her pass away to heaven, where she would receive, according to the Bible, a new body, some did everything possible to deny her this and to keep her here on earth, sitting helpless in a hospital bed, being paraded on television. Their persistence in the face of all medical evidence to the contrary makes sense only if one believes that this is the only world that exists, that death represents the absolute end. A sad contrast to the bravery of so many martyrs throughout the history of Christianity who went to their sometimes unspeakably cruel deaths excited that they were about to see the face of God and pass away into the only world that really mattered.

Even though Woods does not state this, it is fairly clear what this book is: a “Catholo-centric” history. My reaction to this approach to the past is mixed. Although the “philosophy teaching by examples” approach may seem as out of date as the faculty lounge in which only white male professors sat around smoking pipes and sipping dry sherry, I think there is some merit in having students learn about the past in part because it may inspire them to be more directed, more centered people.

Studying African history intensely may well encourage African or African-American students to seek to restore Africa to its former glory. If one wants an object lesson on why it is important to oppose prejudice, one can easily find one by reading about the long history of anti-Semitism. Accordingly, Woods’ history of Christianity, while needlessly slanted, can inspire both Catholics and Protestants—yes, Protestants, since the pre-Reformation history he describes applies equally to them, because it is their history too. The Roman Catholic Church honors its own past by canonizing certain outstanding believers as saints. If this process helps makes Catholics stronger in their faith, more power to them. I fully support the betterment of my Catholic brothers and sisters.

Nevertheless, the promotion of inner pride must not be the primary goal of the writing and teaching of history. Above all, historians are to uphold the highest ideas of scholarship. Scholars are to vigilantly seek the ever so elusive truth, and for the most part should leave the motivational speaking to Tony Robbins and Dr. Phil. Historians are in some ways storytellers, but they’re not supposed to tell just one side of the story. Sadly, this is exactly what Woods is doing here.

That does not mean that historians can merely will themselves to objectivity, switching off their value systems as if they were holiday lights. If one wants to write good scholarship, and not propaganda, then one must seek the advice and guidance of peers (it is noteworthy that not one of the reviewers on the dustjacket is a historian) who will eagerly tell us if we are distorting the past. Those most interested in promoting an agenda, and those with disdain for the traditional standards of the history craft, should just come out with it.

After all, we’re supposed to be writing history, not hagiography.

Glen Bowman (Ph.D., University of Minnesota) is Associate Professor of History and Coordinator of World Civilizations at Elizabeth City State University, Elizabeth City, NC. He has published articles on St. Thomas More, Elizabethan Catholic political theorists, John Donne, utopian thought, Reformation propaganda, and other aspects of church and state. He has written and edited a world history reader and is finishing up Selling the English Reformation, a study of the career of Protestant propagandist John Ponet.