The essay by James W. Tuttleton in the thirtieth-anniversary issue of
Modern
Age (Summer/Fall 1987) calls for some comment. "T. S. Eliot and the
Crisis of the Modern" brings the reader back to the debate about humanism
and religion that took place in the 1920s and 30s. Professor Tuttleton
discusses the critique of the so-called New Humanism that was offered by
Eliot and a few like-minded Christians. Their main target was the recognized
intellectual leader of the movement, Irving Babbitt, who figures prominently
in Professor Tuttleton's essay. (Babbitt's humanism should not to be confused
with the movement associated with John Dewey or with what is today called
secular humanism.) Eliot greatly admired his former teacher at Harvard,
but, after converting to Christianity, he published some critical reflections
in which he questioned Babbitt's idea of the inner check and stressed the
need for grounding ethics in traditional religion. Babbitt's close friend
and ally Paul Elmer More had evolved in the direction of a Christian position
and was treated with less suspicion. That Tuttleton should wish to revisit
this intellectual controversy is understandable. It involves literary and
intellectual figures of special stature in the twentieth century and contains
much of continuing interest.
The debate can be fully understood and evaluated only after the strengths
and weaknesses of the arguments of the participants have been carefully
assessed. A perplexing feature of Tuttleton's essay is that it formulates
the issue of humanism and religion in much the same terms in which it was
formulated half a century ago by the above-mentioned Christian critics
of the New Humanists. Since that time an extensive scholarly literature
has grown up that challenges the terms and the validity of that old critique
of the New Humanism. What is puzzling is that Tuttleton's essay does not
in any way reflect that writing. The reason may be that the article is
primarily intended to present the issue of humanism and religion as it
appeared to Eliot and some kindred writers like Allen Tate. Needless to
say, Tuttleton should not be held responsible for views of theirs that
he quotes or paraphrases. But he does not take exception to any of these
opinions, presumably because he sees no need to do so, and he describes
Babbitt in ways that extend and sharpen Eliot's criticism.
Scholars have thoroughly examined the old criticism of the New Humanism,
especially as directed against Babbitt. Both Christian and non-Christian
interpreters of his work have been taken to task for careless, sometimes
even scandalous, misrepresentations and misunderstandings of his ideas
and for lack of philosophical discernment and depth. All too many of those
who attacked Babbitt had not studied his ideas in an intellectually serious
manner and were sometimes content to repeat the unsubstantiated and superficial
allegations of others. In the last several decades scholarship in this
area has created a new setting for discussion of the humanism-religion
controversy. One might mention, for example, the authoritative writings
of the late Folke Leander, including Humanism and Naturalism (1937)
and The Inner Check (1974), the work of George Panichas, exemplified
by his essay "Babbitt and Religion" (Modern Age, Spring/Summer 1984),
the collective volume Irving Babbitt in Our Time (1986), edited
by George Panichas and myself, and work of my own such as Will, Imagination
and Reason (1986), "The Humanism of Irving Babbitt Revisited" (Modern
Age, Summer 1977), and "Babbitt and the Problem of Reality" (Modern
Age, Spring/ Summer 1984). A large number of other sources could be
cited. To adopt the perspective of Tuttleton's essay is to return to an
old and clearly inadequate "state of the question." While this perspective
may be instructive for what it reveals about the mind of Eliot and some
others at the time, it does not bring the philosophically substantive issues
of the debate into focus. It certainly does not do justice to Babbitt's
position.
Irving Babbitt is treated in Tuttleton's essay as a leading representative
of a modernist humanism that Eliot rejects. But most of the definitions
of this modernist stance that are provided in the article fit Babbitt very
poorly or not at all. For example, it could hardly be said about Babbitt,
the relentless critic of romantic imagination and the champion of classical
standards, that he "substitutes amorphous feeling states for solidly grounded
principles." And he does not have "an optimistic view of human nature."
Neither does he refuse "to believe any longer in the radical imperfection
of either man or Nature." Most particularly, Babbitt cannot be counted
among those who believe in consulting "only their own subjectivity." These
and other partial definitions of "humanism" are patently alien to his position.
Tuttleton also places Babbitt in the company of a thinker like Bertrand
Russell, an intellectual classification to which Babbitt would have strenuously
objected. If Russell is a modernist humanist, Babbitt is something quite
different.
Defining modernist humanism, Tuttleton speaks of "early twentieth-century
writers who had abandoned the Christian past and begun a journey into the
future virtually dissociated from the historic religious and moral tradition."
Babbitt is actually a sharp critic of such writers. His aim is to help
save the ethical and religious core of the Western tradition and to work
for a general revitalization of Western culture. It is with this goal in
mind that he considers it necessary to face squarely the deepest challenges
of modernity. Many "traditionalists" who think it sufficient merely to
reaffirm inherited religious creeds and dogmas are not up to that particular
task. Tuttleton asserts that Babbitt rejects revealed religion. But such
a description of his position, if not placed in the proper context, is
bound to mislead. The formulation is accurate only in a limited, qualified
sense: Babbitt considers it short-sighted and intellectually feeble for
modern defenders of ethical and religious truth to state their case in
doctrinal terms that will be rejected out of hand not just by militant
atheists and nihilists but by honest skeptics who are looking for intellectually
persuasive evidence.
To the assertion that Babbitt rejects revealed religion Tuttleton adds
that Babbitt is "thus rejecting the supernatural." The latter characterization
of his views is as questionable as the first. The many passages in Babbitt's
work that flatly contradict this interpretation can be summed up in his
explicit and emphatic statement that in the debate between naturalists
and supernaturalists he ranges himself "unhesitatingly on the side of the
supernaturalists." (See Babbitt's chapter in Norman Foerster, ed., Humanism
and America, 1930.) On the basis of Tuttleton's essay, who could imagine
that Babbitt's work is actually aimed at refuting naturalism, whose two
main forms he calls "scientific naturalism" and "sentimental humanitarianism."
Tuttleton states that Babbitt offers his notion of the inner check as
"a substitute for 'religious obligation' and 'religious restraint.' " This
assertion is contradicted by overwhelming evidence and is mistaken in more
ways than one. First of all, what Babbitt calls the "inner check" is precisely
a sense of higher obligation and a power of restraint; and it is regarded
by Babbitt as having a religious as well as a humanistic manifestation.
He writes sympathetically and at length on the nature of the specifically
religious life. It is true that Babbitt pays even more attention to what
he calls the humanistic level of life. He argues that this plane of human
existence is subject to a universal ethical standard that is intrinsic
to it and that is ascertainable by the individual apart from religious
faith or revelation. Suspicions based on these grounds that Babbitt wants
to replace religion with humanism might just as well be directed at representatives
of the old natural-law tradition. It is indicative of a kind of intellectual
arbitrariness or recklessness in Babbitt's Christian critics that they
should neglect or disregard so much writing by him that contradicts their
claims, including pointed and explicit statements seemingly intended by
Babbitt to preclude misunderstanding of his views, as when he avers: "I
am not setting up humanism as a substitute for religion." (Babbitt, On
Being Creative, p. xviii.)
In formulating the idea of the inner check, or higher will, Babbitt
is not trying to talk Christians out of their beliefs. He is addressing
all of those in the modern world who are not willing to accept ethical
and religious truth on the authority of inherited dogmas. To these modern
skeptics he argues, not that traditional beliefs are wrong, but that ethical
and religious life do not stand and fall with Church authority. They have
an experiential foundation. This concrete evidence found within the human
consciousness itself is accessible to scrutiny. It remains compelling even
if traditional ethical and religious authority is to be given no weight.
Honest modern seekers after truth who claim to respect experience should
be encouraged to consult this evidence. In Babbitt's own words, he wants
"to meet those who profess to be positive and critical on their own ground
and to undertake to show them that in an essential respect they have not
been positive and critical enough." What Christians refer to in their accustomed
theological language as "God's will," "grace," et cetera, are not
without an observable basis in concrete human experience. Taking careful
account of this experiential reality, Babbitt adopts a terminology -- "the
inner check," "the higher will," "the higher immediacy," et cetera
-- that avoids too close an association with traditional religious language
that presupposes the truth of revelation and particular theological dogmas.
If a person should prefer to interpret direct human experience in the light
of Christian theology, Babbitt has no objection. He comments, "I have no
quarrel with those who assume this traditionalist attitude" (Babbitt,
On
Being Creative, 1932, xvii-xviii).
Given the intellectual circumstances of the modern Western world, Babbitt
is concerned that traditional creedal formulations not be presented as
the sole support for religious and ethical life. A serious weakness of
"dogmatic and revealed religion" is its difficulty in reaching modern non-believers
and its tendency to restrict unduly the range of debate. Babbitt considers
it unwise to frame ethical and religious issues in such a way that thinkers
who are not Christian believers, or Christians of a particular denomination,
are automatically relegated to inferior status as contributors to discussion.
Babbitt despises "liberal" ethical and religious ecumenism of the most
common, abstract, and sentimental kind, but he also insists that there
is a universal element in mankind's ethical and religious experience that
can form the basis for a more genuine ecumenical wisdom. Representatives
of different faiths and also many who do not consider themselves religious
in the ordinary sense can contribute to this core of insight.
Intelligent Christians should not regard exploration of the common human
ethical and religious ground as a threat to their own faith but as a helpful
partial account and elucidation of what they believe. Babbitt's project
was in fact warmly welcomed by many Christian intellectuals, not least
by Roman Catholics such as Louis Mercier and Leo Ward. That so many of
Babbitt's students or closest intellectual associates, e.g., Paul Elmer
More, should have either retained or bowed towards Christian beliefs suggests
that Babbitt's ideas are not an obstacle to confessionally oriented religion.
It may be argued that Babbitt provides a grounding for ethical and religious
life that protects it against the skepticism that is typical of the modern
world. This Babbittian grounding makes ethics and religion less susceptible
to the chronic doubt and the kind of aesthetical religious posturing to
which those are prone who deep down are not really convinced of the truth
of their professed beliefs.
Eliot's critique of Babbitt can be seen in part as his somewhat strained
declaration of independence from an intellectually powerful mentor. It
is more of a devotional exercise by a religious convert than an incisive
assessment of thought. Considering the aim of Babbitt's humanism and of
his thought generally, Eliot's criticism is largely beside the point. His
understanding of Babbitt's idea of the inner check is not very perceptive.
This is the case however much his pious tones may have appealed to Christian
partisans. The same can be said with even greater justification about Allen
Tate's confused rendering of Babbitt.
Writings that criticize thinkers for placing insufficient stress on
God and traditional religion seem to be profoundly appealing and reassuring
to large numbers of conservative intellectuals. Apparently, such writings
convince of their intellectual soundness precisely because they have that
sermonic ring. It is troubling that Eliot's (and Tate's) judgment regarding
Babbitt seems to have been taken as persuasive by many Christians. Even
Russell Kirk, who is one of Babbitt's strongest admirers, has given assent,
although in a qualified and ambiguous way, to Eliot's complaint that Babbitt
does not properly ground his understanding of moral order in traditional
theology. (See Kirk's introduction to the recent new edition of Babbitt's
Literature
and the American College.) Is it indelicate or rude to point out that,
in philosophical discourse, devotional sentiments are no substitute for
accuracy, evidence, and cogency of argument? The interpretation and criticism
of Babbitt by some religious partisans half a century ago illustrates that
inherently weak reasoning is no stronger for being sprinkled with holy
water. It is difficult to see how defenders of Christianity could benefit
their cause by leaving the impression that they are not concerned to uphold
the highest intellectual standards. Besides reading with care what Babbitt
actually wrote, people prone to uncritical acceptance of Eliot's judgment
would do well to ponder John Jamieson's chapter on Eliot, Babbitt, and
Maurras in Irving Babbitt in Our Time.
It should perhaps be added that I have published extensive criticisms
of Irving Babbitt. Hence these brief comments are not meant to imply that
Babbitt is above intellectual reproach. But fair is fair, and prominent
individuals speaking in the name of Christianity have published some of
the least discerning comments on his position. One hopes that such prejudice
will not hinder young Christian intellectuals from discovering in Babbitt
a thinker whose thought can strengthen theirs.
*This article first appeared in the Fall 1989 issue
(Volume 32, No. 4) of
Modern Age. [Back]