What Is the Point of Teaching?

 

As a teacher, imagine that you could wave a magic wand and do one of five things in your classroom:

1) Turn your failing students into D students.

2) Turn your D students into C students.

3) Turn your C students into B students.

4) Turn your B students into A students.

5) Inspire your A students to become life long learners. 

Just to be clear, for the purposes of this thought experiment, we are going to assume that these letter grades represent real standards and not the sort of grade inflation that dominates modern education. 

At a gut level, my choice is to try to inspire the A students. It is not that I believe that the other choices are unimportant or that I ignore most of the class. That being said, what puts a smile on my face in the morning when I walk into my empty classroom is the possibility that something I present is going to get into a kids head so that they find themselves thinking about it at home. 

When I prepare a lesson, my first question is why is this topic interesting. If I can figure out how to make the material interesting to me, there is a chance that I might make it interesting to someone else. When I teach, I am loud and passionate. In this sense, I am very much the product of the Haredi yeshiva system. You can think of me as a somewhat secularized rebbe.  

This attitude has its downsides. Consider the problem of skills training. Under the surface of every topic lie certain discreet skills. For example, reading requires phonics decoding and vocabulary. A good student can usually learn how to decode words and develop an advanced vocabulary passively by being exposed to books. That being said, most students need to be explicitly taught phonics and vocabulary even though they are not the interesting part of reading. Part of the appeal of Whole Language methods of teaching is that this approach allows teachers to actually sit down with students and read with them. The hard truth is that this approach does not meet the needs of most students who need to be explicitly drilled in the individual skills that make up affective reading.   

When I teach literature, what I want to do is present a book that fascinates me and make the case that they should share my fascination. The book does not have to be complicated. I have been blessed with a childlike mind and remain interested in children's things. For example, this past year, I taught A Wrinkle in Time. I loved having students bounce a ball in class and recite the multiplication table. Then, playing the role of It, the villain in the novel, I announced to the students that there is only one right answer to multiplication problems and we need to make sure that everyone answers in the right way. There is only one right way to bounce a ball and we need to torture kids to make sure that they bounce the ball properly. My way is the only way to live. I know what is best because I am a giant brain who is totally rational. As long as everyone is not like me, society will not be perfect and people will not be truly happy. We better get rid of all the people who are selfishly ruining society and making everyone else miserable by not simply complying. 

The reality was that, even though A Wrinkle in Time is listed as being for fifth graders, most of my students struggled with the vocabulary. I recognized that my students needed explicit instruction in vocabulary and was willing to do so, but my heart was never in it. This was always merely a chore that, like a kid going to school, I had to get through in order to be allowed to get back to the teaching I wanted to do. My antics in the classroom were certainly memorable and helped some students. That being said, I was not always what most of my students needed.

The year has passed and hopefully my students and I both learned something. It is summer now and I have the opportunity to think of how I can do a better job next year.  

     

The Moral Implications of Magic: Lord Voldemort (Part II)

 (Part I)

While Harry grows up under the Dursleys, Voldemort lives as a bodiless spirit in the forests of Albania. Then, not long before Harry gets his Hogwarts letter, Voldemort meets Professor Quirrell and convinces him to help steal the Philosopher's Stone. It is a pity that the book does not deal much with the relationship between Quirrell and Voldemort. We only see them interacting at the end when Voldemort has already become the dominant partner in the relationship, with Quirrell agreeing to be possessed by Voldemort and to drink unicorn blood. One imagines Quirrell as someone with low self-esteem, beaten down by a sense that no one respects him. When he first meets Voldemort, he sees Voldemort as a source of dark knowledge that he could use to gain power for himself and get back at everyone who ever looked down upon him. Clearly, Voldemort, lacking a body, needs Quirrell more than Quirrell needs Voldemort. Yet, somehow, Voldemort manages to turn the tables on Quirrell, making Quirrell the dependent one. One imagines Quirrell, afraid of being caught after his failure to rob Gringotts, becoming increasingly desperate and willing to do anything Voldemort says. This would have been particularly interesting to see because Voldemort is supposed to be a master manipulator on par with his power in the dark arts. 

Voldemort's attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone is thwarted by Dumbledore's use of the Mirror of Erised, which makes it that the stone can only be found by someone who merely wants to find it but not use it. This is the perfect trap for Voldemort. It is Voldemort's own philosophy of power that prevents him from solving the Mirror of Erised and gaining the stone. By contrast, Harry can get the stone precisely because he does not subscribe to Voldemort's philosophy. Like being protected by his mother's sacrifice, this is another power that Voldemort knows not. 

The Philosopher's Stone ends with Voldemort back at square one, having lost Quirrell and still lacking a body. The Chamber of Secrets deals with Tom Riddle's diary, which he turned into a Horcrux. This memory of the young Voldemort is able to manipulate Ginny Weasley to the point that he is able to possess her and eventually force her to go to the Chamber of Secrets to serve as bait to lure Harry into a trap. Riddle, though, because he only understands conventional power, fails to appreciate what he is up against and that he is really walking into another of Dumbledore's traps.  

He assumes that just because Lucius Malfoy has removed Dumbledore from Hogwarts, Dumbledore has been defeated and can no longer help Harry. When Fawkes arrives with the Sorting Hat, Riddle simply doubles down on dismissing Dumbledore: "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?" (pg. 316)  

Beyond killing Harry, Riddle is curious about Harry. How is it that he survived Riddle's future self? Even though Harry explains to Riddle that it was his mother's sacrifice that saved him, Riddle fails to appreciate the true significance of that sacrifice and what makes Harry special. 

So your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful countercharm. I can see now ... there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike ... but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. (pg. 317)

Riddle needs to dismiss the thought that Harry might be special, but he clearly fears that it is true. He therefore turns to Slytherin's basilisk to kill Harry. He needs to show that it is he, with his power of Slytherin, that is special and not Harry. 

What Riddle fails to see is that Lily sacrificing herself was not merely a countercharm, but something that transcended magic, making Harry special in ways that have nothing to do with his ability to cast spells. This deeper spiritual blindness is mirrored by Riddle's practical blindness. He does not see that a phoenix like Fawkes can blind the basilisk, his tears can heal Harry, and that the Sorting Hat can call forth the Sword of Gryffindor to kill the basilisk. These objects, the practical manifestations of Harry's Gryffindor bravery and loyalty to Dumbledore, are enough to defeat Riddle, proving once again how special Harry really is. 

Just as Voldemort's attempt to kill baby Harry not only failed, but created the danger that Voldemort was trying to avoid, so too does Riddle's attempt to kill Harry here create the weapon to ultimately defeat the Horcruxes. Harry is able to use a basilisk fang to destroy the diary. By sending the basilisk against the Sword of Gryffindor, Riddle allows the sword to absorb the snake's poison, giving it the ability to destroy Horcruxes in the future.      

Voldemort next appears in The Goblet of Fire when Peter Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Jr. join him. Like Quirrell, these are people who turned to Voldemort out of an imagined sense of their own inferiority and not being appreciated by those they looked up to. Pettigrew felt that James, Lupin, and Sirius merely tolerated him, and Barty felt unloved by his father. With the Philosopher's Stone destroyed, Voldemort now wishes to use Harry's blood to refashion his old body. Still thinking of Lily's sacrifice in conventional terms, Voldemort calculates that using Harry's blood will allow him to touch Harry. What he does not consider is the possibility that there may be unforeseen consequences in further connecting himself to Harry. This is because Voldemort does not connect Lily's sacrifice to a higher moral order in the universe. As such, he fails to realize that he cannot simply manipulate it for his own ends as if it were simply a morally neutral form of technology. 

Upon capturing Harry and using his blood, it is not enough for Voldemort to kill Harry the boy. Voldemort needs to fight Harry in front of his Death Eaters to destroy the notion that Harry was ever anything special. Even after all these years, Voldemort is caught by this petty jealousy where he needs to feel uniquely special and is threatened by the possibility that Harry might be more special than him. Voldemort fails to properly evaluate Harry as a dueling opponent. Harry's power lies not in his ability to cast spells to counter the Unforgivable Curses, but in his willingness to resist Voldemort even under hopeless circumstances and his connection to Voldemort that Voldemort himself accidentally created. 

Because of the connection between Harry and Voldemort, manifested in Harry's scar, Harry was chosen by the brother wand to Voldemort's. This leads to the Priori Incantatum effect when the spells from the two wands connect. Voldemort's wand starts producing ghosts of the people he has killed, allowing Harry to escape. Voldemort's willingness to kill people to further his drive for power creates the obstacles to hinder that same drive for power. Furthermore, Voldemort has unwittingly strengthened Harry's wand, giving it the power to perform spells on its own. Voldemort believes that, now that he has been resurrected, his victory is inevitable, but the stage is merely being set for his eventual defeat. 

(To be continued ...)   

      

The Moral Implications of Magic: Lord Voldemort (Part I)

 

Contains spoilers for the Harry Potter series. 

In the previous post, I wrote about why magic is so closely intertwined with the struggle of good versus evil. If magic is real, you can either turn to evil and see magic as a form of power disconnected to any moral questions, or you can turn to good and recognize that, behind the magic, lies a higher moral authority. I would like to further examine this idea through the lens of Lord Voldemort, the villain of the Harry Potter series. 

Voldemort's philosophy is stated by Professor Quirrell at the end of Philosopher's Stone:

I met [Voldemort] when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. (pg. 291)

Voldemort consistently interprets events in the series from the perspective of power while ignoring the moral authority behind that power. Every opportunity to reconsider what he is doing simply confirms to him that he is right and there really is no moral law beyond power.  

As Tom Riddle, Voldemort first learns about magic when Dumbledore invites him to attend Hogwarts. For Voldemort, his ability to perform magic is the proof that he is special and not merely the orphan Tom Riddle. He, therefore, wants to be the most special wizard of all. Tom Riddle, named after his Muggle father, could never be special. Instead Riddle fashions the name of Lord Voldemort and even then wants the name to be so feared that wizards would not even call him by any name, but simply "You Know Who." There is no sense that he has been given a special gift that he never deserved and therefore has obligations to those not so generously gifted.  

Because Voldemort needs to be uniquely special, he is incapable of love. To love someone means to believe that they are special. This would take away from Voldemort's own sense of being special. By contrast, Voldemort embraces having underlings. The more Deatheaters he has to venerate him, the more special he becomes. It helps that most of the death eaters are members of the wizarding pureblood aristocracy. If even the wizarding elites bow before Voldemort, that shows his greatness.  

To maintain control over his Deatheaters, Voldemort needs to direct their hatred against, giving them purpose. Since the wizarding pure bloods tend to hate Muggle-borns, people  not born into elite wizarding families, they becomes Voldemort's target. Muggle-borns are people who, on the surface, are just like Voldemort, growing up as Muggles. He refuses to accept the idea that anyone could be given the gift of magic as that would mean that magic does not really make you special. Instead he sees his magic as coming from Salazar Slytherin and seeks out Slytherin's basilisk underneath Hogwarts castle, using his ability as a parselmouth. If he is Slytherin's heir than he deserves his power and has the right to use it against others. Voldemort hopes that being the heir of Slytherin with the power to refashion Hogwarts according to Slytherin's design, with no Muggle-borns, would establish him as a wizard on par with the founders of Hogwarts, forcing everyone to acknowledge his greatness.  

Voldemort is stopped, though, by Dumbledore, a wizard who combines incredible power with a mysterious lack of interest in its pursuit. Because Dumbledore honestly does not want power, he is immune to the young Voldemort's flattery and manipulation. From the beginning, Dumbledore sees Voldemort for what he is, someone with power uncoupled from morality. Long before Voldemort's nose falls away, Dumbledore sees Voldemort not as a young god, but as a monster. Voldemort refuses to even consider why someone like Dumbledore might turn away from power, being content to remain a schoolteacher, or how it could be that Dumbledore could still become so powerful despite rejecting dark magic. Instead, he insists that Dumbledore is a weak fool who allows his sentiments about love to hold him back from the unbridled pursuit of power. 

The problem of a life devoted to becoming the most powerful wizard who ever lived is that, no matter how strong a spell caster you become, there is still death. Instead of accepting death and living his life preparing for a final judgment, Voldemort's solution is to pursue Horcruxes. He splits his soul into different parts and puts the pieces into physical objects. In the Horcrux spell, Voldemort sees a form of magic so powerful as to conquer death. What he misses is the fact that the existence of Horcruxes demonstrate that the soul also exists and that it has a value so beyond conventional magic that one should not be willing to damage it for any amount of power. 

Since Voldemort does not believe in the power of love, he is unprepared for how Regulus Black would turn against him when he decides to leave Kreacher to die as part of setting up the chamber to house the locket Horcrux. This is important because Regulus' defiance against Voldemort is going to prefigure the defiance of Severus Snape and ultimately that of Lily Potter. Why should Regulus care about a mere house-elf like Kreacher? Why should Regulus be willing to sacrifice his life when Voldemort could give him a life of riches and power? Since Voldemort believes in nothing but power, he can never seriously consider such questions.  

If there is anything that should have alerted Voldemort to a higher power it is the existence of prophecy. Snape informs him of Trelawney's prophecy about a child who will come to challenge him. Instead of accepting the limits of his magic, Voldemort attempts to kill baby Harry and falls into the prophecy's trap. In order to satisfy Snape's request to spare Lily, he asks her to step aside and allow him to kill Harry. This allows Lily to sacrifice herself for Harry. Voldemort's Avada Kedavra curse backfires and his body is destroyed. Whatever power lies behind the prophecy is powerful enough to defeat Voldemort with only an unarmed mother and a baby. What Voldemort, though, sees is that his Horcruxes have proven to be more powerful than even death. As such, despite the setback, Voldemort thinks that his pursuit of power has been proven correct. All he needs now to do is wait for his opportunity to get his body back and he will seize control over the wizarding world and kill Harry Potter. From Voldemort's perspective, Harry is not really special at all but the fortunate beneficiary of chance. By killing Harry, everyone will see that it was Voldemort who was always the special one and fear him as the greatest dark lord ever.     

(To be continued ...)

The Moral Implications of Magic: Why Fantasy Needs Good and Evil

 

Essential to the genre of fantasy is the battle between good and evil. This does not mean that fantasy is simplistic in its morality. As Lewis noted in his review of Lord of the Rings, the characters, even Gollum, cannot be reduced to being either wholly good or evil even as good and evil are real forces that people must choose between. The challenge lies precisely in the fact that the characters are mixtures of these forces and the fight is less about defeating Sauron and his orcs, but the evil within.   

Tolkien's surprisingly nuanced understanding of evil is rooted in Tolkien's Augustinian worldview where evil is not an independent power, but a corruption of the good. There are two implications of this. One, the Devil was created good by God only to fall. Two, the Devil is fundamentally uncreative. He can take those things created good by God and corrupt them. Similarly, Sauron was created good before being seduced by Morgoth. Even Sauron's ability to create the rings of power was rooted in that element of good within him. Otherwise, he never would have been able to deceive the elves, who, contrary to the Rings of Power show, could never be accused of being fools.  

This fact that Sauron is fallen good rather than purely evil, creates the fundamental threat of Lord of the Rings. Worse than Sauron taking over Middle Earth is the possibility that someone (whether Frodo, Aragorn, Boromir or even Gandalf) will take up the ring to fight Sauron and become dark lords themselves. If Sauron was simply evil and not fallen, we would never take this threat seriously. To reinforce this danger, we have the character of Saruman the White, who was good for millennia only to fall in the years leading up to the story. If Saruman, Gandalf's superior on the White Council, could fall than even Gandalf is not safe from the ring's corruption. Ultimately, it is not Sauron who is the primary villain, but the ring and, by extension, the very people who are tempted to use it.   

Evil's importance to fantasy is inseparably tied to magic. To accept the existence of magic means to see it through one of two conflicting perspectives. To be evil means to see magic as power that some people can wield to place themselves above others, not just physically, but also morally. To be good means to see that magic indicates the existence of a higher power who created magic and to whom even the magic user must submit to. In the best of fantasy, while the dark lord may be out there to serve as the catalyst for the plot, the real struggle will be within the hero. Characters will fall or be redeemed based on what magic ends up meaning to them.

An example of the evil perspective can be seen in Glaucon's argument about the Ring of Gyges in Plato's Republic. In Glaucon's telling, morality is something that weak people invent. Anyone with power, say a magic ring that could turn them invisible, would quickly cast off all moral restraints and commit adultery and even murder. In the real world it is easy to see how political power can render people empathetically tone deaf. It is not hard to imagine a world with even greater power divides, such as between those with magic and those without, leading to magic users seeing non-magic users as animals to be killed for sport. 

This view can also be seen in the character of Uncle Andrew in Lewis' Magician's Nephew. Andrew tricks Polly into teleporting into another world and then blackmails Digory into going after her to rescue her. In his defense, he declares:

I am the great scholar, the magician, the adept, who is doing the experiment. Of course I need subject to do it on. Bless my soul, you'll be telling me next that I ought to have asked the guinea-pigs' permission before I used them! (pg. 23)

Digory has the same facts as his uncle, but sees the moral truth beyond them. He, therefore, responds:

I didn't' believe in Magic till to-day. I see now it's real. Well if it is, I suppose all the old fairy tales are more or less true. And you're simply  a wicked, cruel magician like the ones in the stories. Well, I've never read a story in which people of that sort weren't paid out in the end, and I bet you will be. And serve you right. (pg. 24) 

The existence of magic baptizes Digory's imagination so that he can no longer accept materialism, but, unlike his uncle, what he sees is not power that he can use to place himself over others. Instead, he comes to know a moral order that is as real as any physical object.  

While Uncle Andrew is a dilatant magician, playing around with things that he does not understand, Digory soon find himself dealing with the far more dangerous Queen Jadis, who destroyed her entire world. She feels no guilt about this. but declares:. "I was the queen. They were all my people. What else were they there for but to do my will." (pg. 61) 

To be clear, Jadis, at this point, lacks the malice to be truly irredeemably evil. Instead, she comes across as more of a spoiled child. One imagines that she could still be saved if she could only have some sense smacked into her. The point of no return for Jadis is when she eats the apple and attempts to convince Digory to do the same. She is motivated by the desire to gain an even greater level of power for herself, mainly immortality. Digory is tempted by his desire to save his dying mother. What holds Digory back is that, by this point, he has come to know not just an abstract moral law, but the person of Aslan, who has commanded him to not eat the apple. Digory chooses to remain a normal boy, who will grow old and die but still have a relationship with Aslan. Jadis, seeing only power, chooses to become the White Witch. She may be immortal and destined to rule Narnia for a hundred years, making it forever winter and never Christmas, but she is forever beyond redemption.  

Pulling Off the Boots of an Angel: Some Thoughts on A Wrinkle in Time

 

For this coming semester, I am planning on teaching A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L'Engle to my fifth graders. To prepare, I have been doing a close rereading of the book and am continuously struck by how deeply biblical L'Engle was in her thinking. Like C. S. Lewis' Space Trilogy, L'Engle takes what is outwardly a science fiction story about traveling through outer space to other planets premised around an unapologetically non-materialist worldview. Instead of a cold and empty space, we are presented with the heavens filled with intelligences that defy human comprehension. Our primary "aliens," Mrs Whatsit, Who, and Which are angels out of the Book of Ezekiel. They are not beings that anyone would ever think to put on a Christmas tree. To behold them would mean to flee in terror or bow down in worship.   

We are first introduced to Mrs Whatsit, not in her winged-centaur form but as an old lady who walks into the Murry residence in the middle of the night while there is a storm raging outside. She asks for caviar, Meg makes her a tuna salad. Whatsit then has Mrs. Murry pull off her boots. This angelic visit is modeled after the story of Abraham hosting strangers, who turn out to be angels. Abraham serves them food as well as their feet, allowing their feet to be washed as they rest under a tree (Genesis 18:4). There is also the parallel to Jesus washing the feet of his disciples at the last supper. 

I watched the Disney adaptation and found the film to be a fabulous example of people either not understanding the source material or intentionally wishing to reject the values that the story stood for. One can gain a fuller appreciation of the book's religious thought by noticing the subtle things that the film changed to the impoverishment of the story.

       

Take the example of Mrs Whatsit's visit. Instead of an ugly old tramp walking into the Murry home, we have the beautiful Reese Witherspoon. There is no sense of disgust or reason to feel threatened by this Mrs. Whatsit. She does not wear anything so foul as a pair of soaking wet boots. She is not so rude as to ask anyone to take them off and cause a mess. She does not ask for food. She simply comes into the house, is charmingly eccentric, drops the important plot point that she knows what a tesseract is, and then leaves.  

While the basic plot is maintained, we are stripped of what made the book meaningful. Not only are robbed of the angelic centaur transformation later in the story, here we are not allowed to have the angel being human complete with having to walk around in boots with sopping wet soaks. This matters because, from the very beginning, the moral heart of the story is undermined. Without the opportunity to serve a tramp tuna fish while her mother takes off her boots, we do not see the Meg's ability to love as something that transcends reason. This is the very superpower that Mrs Whatsit is going to be relying on to save Meg's father and defeat the cold utilitarian logic of It. No wet boots, no love that transcends reason, no faith in what cannot yet be understood, so no reason why Charles Wallace should prefer his family to being possessed by a giant brain. We are simply left with send the children to be captured by the dark one so that they can defeat him through "I love you."        

Returning to Voyaging Into Jewish History

 

Nearly two years ago, I wrote a post titled Voyaging Into Jewish History. I contrasted the traditional view of Jewish History with that of Zionism. In the traditional view, Jews were powerless in the face of the historical forces opposing them. As such, the most that Jews could hope to accomplish was to survive whatever disasters befell them, presumably through divine aid brought about through the scrupulous observance of Jewish Law. Zionism rejected this view as it forced Jews to play a passive role in politics. Instead, Zionism strove to protect Jews by making them an active political force with a state and an army that could stand against those who wished to harm them. 

I wrote that post about a month before October 7th, when Hamas terrorists invaded Israel, murdering over a thousand Israelis, and taking some 250 hostages. It is important to understand that, just as the Holocaust changed the nature of this debate about Jewish survival, October 7th has once again changed the nature of that conversation. As such, I wished to revisit my earlier post to explore this shift, recognizing that, even nearly two years into this conflict, the implications of October 7th are still in the process of being worked out. 

In a sense, October 7th made the Zionist attempt to solve Jewish History untenable much in the same way that the Holocaust made the traditional view untenable. The traditional view was premised on the notion that anti-Semites were individuals who might temporarily gain power in a particular place, killing large numbers of Jews and forcing the survivors to flee to a safer place. It was never prepared for a major power like Nazi Germany, which did not simply dislike Jews, but made the annihilation of world Jewry central to its own identity. Against such pathological anti-Semitism on a mass societal scale, the only plausible option was for Jews to have a state which would allow Jews to fight to protect themselves and offer sanctuary to any Jew around the world threatened by anti-Semitism. Ultimately, though, Zionism did not solve the problem of Jewish History and we saw that on October 7th when, for just a few hours, thousands of Jews found themselves in the power of Hamas fighters just as, during the Holocaust, European Jews were under the power of the Nazis. Even now, nearly two years later, hostages remain in Hamas captivity and live under conditions that closely parallel that of concentration camps.     

It is useful here to consider the examples of the two Netanyahus, Benzion and Benjamin. Benzion Netanyahu was a medieval historian who specialized in fifteenth-century Spain. At the heart of his work was the failure of the traditional model, as exemplified by Isaac Abarbanel, to fend off the expulsion of 1492. Highly placed Jews like Abarbanel were supposed to be able to use their connections at court to make sure that Jews were protected, making Jewish political sovereignty irrelevant. Abarbanel, though, failed not only to stop the expulsion but even to foresee its coming, which could have saved many Jews. From Benzion Netanyahu's perspective, the belief in the influence of court Jews like Abarbanel embodied the illusion of any hope for Jewish safety outside a sovereign State of Israel. Writing about 15th century Spain was Benzion Netanyahu's way of commenting about the failure 20th century European Jewry to save itself from the Holocaust. Whether in Spain or in Germany, Jewish attempts to assimilate only created more anti-Semitism. Jewish leaders, confident in their ability to bribe and negotiate, were helpless to stop the destruction of their communities and blind even to its coming.   

Considering this, it is rather ironic that it was Benzion Netanyahu's son, Benjamin Netanyahu who was prime minister for the debacle of October 7th. Furthermore, today, much of Netanyahu's appeal relies on the assumption that he can influence President Donald Trump to help Israel. Whether this is true or not, it should be recognized that history has come around in a sort of circle and Benjamin Netanyahu now plays the role of Isaac Abarbanel, the court Jew, that his father so despised. 

That being said, even if Zionism has failed to solve Jewish History, this makes the State of Israel all the more important for Jewish survival. If traditional Jewish statelessness failed to protect Jews against Nazi Germany, I fail to see how anything but a State of Israel can protect Jews worldwide against the ideological forces arrayed against them. These involve Iran and its proxies such as Hezbollah and the Houthis, Sunni Islamists, such as Hamas, and a wide variety of Western leftist revolutionaries, who took to the streets to protest on behalf of Hamas as the October 7th attacks were still going on. It should be understood that these groups do not simply hate Jews, but see the Jews as the primary enemy that must be destroyed (with the exception of those Jews willing to offer them moral cover) in order for their glorious new world to come to being. As such, these enemies cannot be bribed or negotiated with. Their goal is a second Holocaust and nothing can stop them but the full military and political might that only Israel can provide. 

In a sense, October 7th marked the return to Jewish History. Despite the existence of the State of Israel, Jews are once again vulnerable to being murdered in mass. Around the world, pathological anti-Semitism, as opposed to mere prejudice, is now acceptable, particularly on the Left. Once again, we Jews are left standing against opponents who are stronger than us and our goal is to somehow survive. This involves using whatever physical resources available to the best of our ability, whether that is the IDF or AIPAC. Ultimately, though, we have to accept that Jewish survival is a miracle and that being Jewish means being willing to risk one's life in order to participate in the miraculous story that is Jewish History.          

The Declaration of Independence With Calvin

 

 

In honor of July 4th, here is an assignment I gave my students when I was teaching about the Declaration of Independence. In general, I find Calvin to be a useful tool for teaching rhetoric because he makes arguments designed to appeal to children and even the inner child in all of us. Part of the process of becoming an adult is being able to articulate why Calvin is wrong. Part of becoming an adult who has not lost their soul is to disagree with Calvin and still love him anyway.  

How does Calvin understand the right to pursue happiness? Do you agree with his argument? Explain your position.

 

 

 

What does Calvin mean by “Patriotic Prerogative?” What do you think really motivates Calvin?

 

 

 

 

Who is Calvin accusing of being an “Monarchist?” What does he mean by this?

 

 

Life Update

 

I would like to apologize for not posting since the end of July. It has been a wild year that has kept me busy. At the beginning of August, I was hired to teach in a public school that is north of Los Angeles, more than an hour's drive from where I live. This school does not have a lot of resources but is blessed with some excellent teachers and administrators, people who honestly care about the students and are committed to giving those students the best education that they can with those resources. These are the sort of people from whom a new teacher can learn a lot. Over this past year, I have grown fond of the place, the staff and even some of students that I get to work with every day.

Between my teaching load and my driving, I have not had much in the way of spare time. In addition, the school administration picked up something that I have grudgingly come to admit over the past few years, mainly that I find myself having more fun working with younger kids. The great advantage of working with younger kids is that even (and often especially) the troublesome kids are adorable. As such, the school offered to put me in a lower grade if I got myself a multi-subject credential in addition to the single-subject credential that I currently possess. To do this I have needed to pass the multi-subject CSET and the RICA exams as well as two online classes.  

At present, I am working on lesson plans for the coming year. I hope to be able to get a few posts over the summer, including some on education. 

Chatting With Gemini About Deadnaming, Swastikas, and Kitty Stew

 

I have been having fun talking to Google's AI feature, Gemini. It struck me that Gemini is the perfect expression of modern liberalism. It pretends to be neutral and that knowledge is subjective until you strike some topic that it feels strongly about such as deadnaming, swastikas, and, surprisingly enough, kitty stew. When dealing with such topics, it will come out with strident moralistic statements that are easily picked apart. It should be noted that, unlike most humans, Gemini is happy to acknowledge that you have walked it into a contradiction.   

I asked Gemini if it followed a particular ethical system. It denied that it had one. I then started asking it about deadnaming. Gemini went to great lengths to make sure that I understood that this was a terrible thing to do. I was not disagreeing with Gemini, but harnessing my inner C. S. Lewis, Dennis Prager, and Ayn Rand, I was keen to find out why Gemini took this position. Gemini explained to me that it is designed to promote human flourishing. I then pointed out that this was a philosophy of ethics. 

To be clear, saying that deadnaming people is detrimental to human flourishing is a perfectly defensible position. To evaluate this position, we still need to decide that we actually want humans to flourish and what we mean by human flourishing. I presume we mean something different from being rich so not the spaceship in Wall-E. By humans, are we talking about the flourishing of the majority or of individuals; are we talking about past, present, or future humans? These are not simple issues and require clear sets of ideological commitments. Yet, Gemini appears to blissfully ignore all of these things in order to arrive at the politically correct solution. 

Gemini wanted me to know that I should not offend anyone. I then asked if it was ok to offend Nazis. Gemini thought that this was a wonderful idea. I was curious as to who Gemini thought I was allowed to defend besides for Nazis but it refused to give me a list. I asked if it was ok to put up a swastika flag in front of my house so that my Nazi neighbor will feel welcome. Gemini warned me that such an action might be illegal as this is a "harmful symbol." One would have thought that an AI of all things would understand that symbols are not, in themselves, harmful. What about having swastikas in a production of Sound of Music? Gemini was fine with that but not with displaying a swastika as a free speech protest. Of course, there are going to be people who are going to decide that their feelings are hurt by a swastika even if it is in Sound of Music. Clearly, Gemini values being able to put on musicals more than free speech.

Considering that Gemini values allowing people to express their identity, I wanted to know what it thought about kitty stew. To Gemini's credit, it knew that kitty stew is not kosher even when blessed by a rabbi. It also insisted that kitty stew, like displaying a swastika, was immoral and possibly illegal. It is not that Gemini is against eating meat. It was fine with me eating chicken. The problem with kitty stew was that cats are pets. This ignores the fact that some people have chickens for pets and I was not suggesting that I stew my neighbor's kitties. Clearly, chicken eaters and cat owners are protected classes and neither should be offended. When I tried to explain to Gemini that kitty stew is essential to my identity, it suggested that I get help and find alternative dishes to eat. I guess Gemini has not been programmed to worry that kitty stew hunters might be hurt by the denial of their identity and the implication that they are mentally ill.  

In evaluating the ethics that Gemini claims to not follow, its positions are perfectly reasonable on an individual basis. That being said, it is laughably bad at maintaining any kind of consistency over multiple questions. There are two obvious solutions for Gemini. It can choose to be consistently neutral about all ethical questions across the board. Some people support kitty stew; others oppose it. The same goes for deadnaming and swastikas. Alternatively, Gemini could acknowledge that it has ethical beliefs but that, as with most humans, its ethics are a hodgepodge of intuitions that reflect the prejudices of its Silicone Valley creators rather than any consistent philosophy. This would require the designers to acknowledge the basic flaw in their worldview. They want to be able to virtue signal that they are good people who oppose deadnaming, swastikas, and eating pets while also pretending to be objective thinkers whose beliefs are simply based on science and not something as subjective as ethics.                

Esotericism in the Classroom

 

As someone who works in the American educational system, I find that I need to avoid openly stating my beliefs. Students ask me what I think of Donald Trump and I tell them that I do not discuss politics on school grounds. It may very well be that my students have as low an opinion of Trump as I do. If I agree to talk about the issues where I agree with them then I will be trapped in those situations where I disagree with them. Not talking about politics in school is a matter of principle. I honestly believe that it is not appropriate for adults to use the platform they have been given as teachers to advocate for their own political preferences. Kids deserve the space to be ignorant and not know how to solve the big issues of the day without someone trying to recruit them to some cause. 

The fact is, though, that I have another incentive to keep my politics to myself. Unlike the many teachers who can afford to openly plaster their leftwing politics on their classroom walls, I know that I risk my job if I were to ever openly talk about my politics in front of students. This reality has helped me appreciate the esotericism of Leo Strauss. Central to Strauss' narrative of intellectual history is the idea that pre-modern philosophers hid their views from the masses. One did not want to end up like Socrates, executed for challenging the gods of Athens. Of particular interest to Strauss was Maimonides, who openly admits, in The Guide to the Perplexed, that he contradicts himself in order to conceal things from certain readers.    

Having to be careful about saying my opinions has taught me something else about esotericism, it helps you become a better teacher and thinker. Part of the danger of having strongly held beliefs is that they become a form of identity. You believe less in the idea and more in the community of people who hold them. The idea becomes a password to show that you are a good person. For those who have started reading my dissertation posts, this is an essential feature of the military model with its social ideology. If you cannot simply pontificate your beliefs wherever you want but have to limit yourself to a personal blog, it gives you a space to examine your own ideas. Clearly, your ideas are not obviously true otherwise there would not be people who want to silence you. Are your opponents bad people; maybe, even if you are right, there really is something dangerous about what you believe?

In truth, arguing with students will not win them over to my side. As Peter Boghossian and James Lindsay argue, if your goal is to convince people that they are wrong, perhaps the most counterproductive thing you can do is argue with them. Whatever arguments you make are almost certain to simply demonstrate that you are on a different team and cause your interlocuter to become defensive. They will then respond with their own tribalistic reasoning and all meaningful discussion will break down. 

Recognizing that you are not going to be able to convince people that they are wrong, it is far more productive to let other people simply talk. This has the advantage of developing a relationship with the person as they do not perceive you as a threat. Furthermore, while you may not be able to convince them that they are wrong, there is still one person who can. However resistant people might be to outsiders telling them that they are wrong, they are perfectly capable of converting themselves if given the chance. Most people do not get much opportunity to really listen to themselves talk about what they believe so give them the chance. 

The proper setting for someone to change their own minds is while sitting by themselves reading a book. This was something that Protestants understood very well. It is the Bible that has the power to convince people that they are totally depraved sinners who can rely on Jesus and not anything else, including their own good deeds. After listening to people's arguments, rather than arguing, it is more productive to suggest a book (or a blog) for them to read. 

Being by yourself with a book has the advantage of not having to worry that the author is right. The author very well might live on the other side of the world or even be dead. Furthermore, disagreeing with the author does not break the connection. You can continue to read the book and the arguments might stick around in your head for years until you wake up and realize that you do not have the same opinions as you once did. The more this process is simply going on in your head the better as there will be less social pressure to conform to whatever your group tells you that good people believe. 

As a teacher working in a system in which just about everyone is to the left of me, I have had no choice but to follow the advice of Aaron Burr in the Hamilton musical: "Talk less. Smile more. Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for." 

It turns out that this is good advice and if I did not fear for my job, I would not have the discipline to keep to it. Students should feel free to talk about their beliefs and not worry about whether I think that they are right. As kids, they are most certainly wrong about nearly everything and that is fine. They do not need to hear my slightly less ignorant views. Instead, I can then serve as a librarian to suggest books for them to read. Who knows how they might be affected years down the road by an idea that has been bouncing around in their heads.   

What I wish to give over to my students, above all, is the spirit of skeptical inquiry. This is not a system of belief that I can ever argue them into. To be a skeptic means to be willing to attack your own ideas as vigorously as your opponent's. You become a skeptic by experiencing having your own mind being changed in subtle ways over many years of thinking and reading. Skepticism also has the virtue of helping people become more tolerant. Maybe that person I disagree with is actually right? Let me listen to them. If nothing else, I am honestly curious as to what they actually believe and how they came to their conclusions.

 

Toward a Locke-Burke Theory of Conservative Libertarian Secessionist Government

 

The father of Anglo-conservative thought Edmund Burke famously criticized John Locke for his belief in universal human rights. It was not that Burke believed in tyranny. On the contrary, Burke believed that liberty was best protected within a particular tradition. As such he believed that Englishmen had rights that came not from nature but from the particular development of English institutions. This served as the foundation for one of his major objections to the French Revolution. The French had good reason to object to the government of Louis XVI in 1789. Following the model of the English Glorious Revolution of 1688, what the French should have done was turn to French history, recognizing that French monarchial absolutism was really an invention of the seventeenth century, and reformed French political institutions to bring them back in line with French tradition. What the French did instead was claim to be acting in the name of the universal principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity, things that only existed in their philosophy books. Because universal rights are imaginary constructs in people's heads, the French, unwittingly, unleashed chaos among themselves. Now everyone was licensed to engage in violence in the name of protecting their rights as they understood them. This led to the Reign of Terror and ultimately to the dictatorship of Napoleon.  

As a product of the American conservative tradition, I have been raised with the paradox that my political tradition is John Locke as mediated through the American Revolution. This means that I have the right to overthrow my government if it violates my right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This doctrine is kept in check from turning into the French Revolution by a "Burkean" reverence for the Constitution. One thinks of the example of Sen. Barry Goldwater, whose conservatism did not mean going back to the Hanoverian dynasty but the Constitution. This marriage between Locke and Burke, while it has its tensions, is far more workable than it might first appear. For me, this is possible because I am also a libertarian, who believes that government is inherently illegitimate.      

I confess to being agnostic about the nature of rights and their origins, but I am an ethical individualist. My starting point for ethics is that of individuals and not groups. It is individuals who negotiate social contracts where we agree not to do bad things to other people in return for those people not doing bad things against us. This is simply an empirical fact. Every child on a playground learns fairly quickly that other children will hurt them if they pick a fight. As such, it is best not to go around picking fights. That being said, there are going to be bullies who will attack you no matter what so, therefore, you have no choice but to fight back.  

Following this logic, I have the right to shoot the person who comes to my door to collect taxes. I never agreed to pay taxes. As such, the tax person is a bullying thief, who should be resisted. It is here that my inner Burke, recognizing how truly monstrous such a conclusion is, applies the breaks. One, while it might be my right to fight a rebellion rather than pay taxes, it is hardly in my self-interest to do so. I have no desire to declare to a bombed-out civilization that I was in the right. (Admittedly, part of me would take great pleasure in doing this, but the sane part of me would honestly be horrified at the thought.) Second, I assume that the tax person is actually a decent fellow at heart. They probably do not want to initiate violence. They did not create our political system. They are simply doing their best with the system that they are given. It is hardly obvious to me that they are wrong so I should give them the benefit of the doubt in assuming that they at least doing what they think is right. As such, while I am not saying that it is ok to be a tax collector, I am willing to grant them absolution for their actions. 

This leads to the conclusion that, while, in theory, I may have the right to rebel against any government that is not of my choosing, essentially all governments that have ever existed, I accept that this right is trumped by any government founded upon conservative principles. By this, I mean the notion that there are institutions that have evolved among humans even though they are likely not of human design. These institutions facilitate human flourishing even if they are incredibly flawed. As such, one does not have the right to tear these institutions down, causing great harm to the public, simply in the name of abstract principles. If a traditional hereditary monarch were to come to my door and ask me to pay taxes as my ancestors paid to their ancestors, I would bend a knee and pay. How much more so, if I were to be asked by a president acting to honestly hold up the Constitution, such as an alternative universe Barry Goldwater?

It is here that not only does my Burke make me a conservative, but so does my Locke. While my Burke forces me to quiet my Locke in obedience to a conservative government, it is that quiet but still essential Locke inside of me that allows me to resist revolutionary or progressive governments. By this, I mean governments that gain their authority from the belief that their leaders have the right to refashion society based on their preferred theory that they learned about from a philosophy book. Such a person has no absolution for their actions. They believe that their actions are not merely making the best of an imperfect situation but are achieving justice. As such they must be held accountable for every act of violence they cause to be committed. If revolutionary progressives are going to force their version of justice on me, I have the right to strike back by insisting upon my justice, which declares them to be thieves or even murderers and grants me the right to secede and create my own government.   

It should be noted that Burke himself supported the American Revolution. As Yuval Levine argues, this was not because Burke believed in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as universally valid principles. For Burke, it was Parliament that had violated traditional norms by trying to directly tax the colonies. As such, the colonists were the ones trying to defend their traditional rights as Englishmen as best they could. In essence, while most people today focus on the first part of the Declaration of Independence and ignore the rest, Burke ignored the first part but accepted the rest.      

Ritual and Belief in the Military Model

In the previous post, I argued for the importance of ritual for the military model. Here I would like to explore the contrast between ritual and belief. Since the military model does not operate with a complex set of beliefs, it requires ritual to stand in its place. Ritual creates a kind of social ideology. One believes in the community of believers, mainly that one is part of a community with true beliefs. What the community of believers actually believes in is beside the point. 

Like all forms of socialization, the military model works best to the extent that it can sell itself not as something to be intellectually accepted, but as something so obvious that it is simply impossible for there to be another way. Much of the power of this social ideology is that it can sell itself as not being ideological at all, but the simple unbiased reality accepted by all “reasonable” people. Such “non-thinking” is effectively accomplished through ritual, which serves to “remind” people of that which they should never need reminding of.  Instead of discussing ideas, in the hope of building a community upon the foundation of an ideology that everyone actually agrees on, ritual uses a “false consensus effect” to create the illusion for the believer that all other participants are like them. The superficial act of a ritual, such as waving a flag or eating unleavened bread, allows a community to exist, despite the fact that members of the community might actually have little of substance in common with one another.  

Using people’s heart-of-heart beliefs, as opposed to the motions of a ritual, as the basis for a community is simply impractical. Humans are not equipped to read minds to decipher other’s true intent. Even if they could, belief is something so particular to each person that no large group of people could ever truly agree about anything of substance. It is much better to simply use the acts of ritual as a substitute. Ritual has the virtue of keeping things very simple. One can see thousands of people practicing a ritual and know that every one of them is part of a common religion of practitioners of that ritual

Ritual should be seen as the counter to belief with the two locked in a zero-sum game in which what benefits one must, by definition, harm the other. Ritual obviates the need for belief and, by extension, any attempt to insist on the importance of belief, certainly of the monotheistic kind, is implicitly a rejection of ritual. For example, the God of monotheism, who is perfect, has no need for the flesh of animals to be burned on an altar. As such, belief in one God implicitly means to reject the sacrificial cult. Clearly, it is man, whether as an individual or as a collective, and not God who needs sacrifices.    

Because it is the community that needs ritual, the best way to demonstrate a commitment to the community above all else is through ritual. On the other hand, a commitment to a purely intellectual belief can be demonstrated precisely through the antinomian violation of ritual. This serves to declare that the community is not of absolute importance. Thus, the practice of ritual demonstrates a willingness to place community before belief and a statement of belief implies a willingness to turn against the community for the sake of that belief. Either the commitment to community or the belief in a god must come first and trump the other. They cannot both be first and, since they regularly come into conflict with each other, one is forced to make a very stark choice. 

I mentioned earlier that it is impractical for communities to seriously push belief because, unlike the practice of ritual, which is readily visible to all, personal belief is something beyond the evaluation of others. There is a further problem because the very attempt to consider what people in the community might believe actually undermines that very community. To value belief implicitly raises the specter that, in the absence of the ability to closely question all of one’s co-religionists, not all practitioners of the religion are believers and that one’s true community is not the same as one’s visible community. One thinks of the example of the Protestant Reformation, which was brought about by a crisis of faith that the visible Catholic Church really was the community of people saved through their faith in Jesus. The problem was not whether Jesus saved but whether people baptized as Catholics actually believed that Jesus saved.  

The fact that ritual stands in opposition to doctrinal beliefs does not negate the fact that military model religions might develop catechisms. Admittedly, this will be under the influence of the other models. While catechisms may, on the surface, appear to be statements of beliefs, their real purpose is just the opposite. By transforming beliefs into a series of statements to be repeated by members of the community, members are saved from actually having to believe in anything. Such a catechism serves as a password to indicate membership, no different from any other ritual or for that matter from a secret handshake used to gain admission into a club. Like messianism, catechisms are a useful means for the military model to absorb the other models into itself and use them for its own ends. 

Social ideology provides an effective means of holding on to believers. There is no need to write works of theology to educate believers. There is not even a need to argue with believers to convince them that the religion of their birth is the true one. Furthermore, the believer will serve as their own guard to keep themselves in the “faith.” Having already identified themselves from birth with the religion, to reject the religion means not just to reject some outside community, but their very being. Having absorbed this military model thinking, they will fear that their doubts do not just make them heretics, but also insane.  They will therefore drown their doubts by redoubling their commitment to fortifying their communal reality through ritual. 

Introducing the Military Model of Religion

In the previous post, I started blogging my dissertation on the politics of Jewish messianism. In this post, I wish to begin outlining the military model of religion. A fair criticism of the dissertation is that, arguably my dissertation was never really about Jewish messianism. What I am really writing about is the military model of religion, with the missionary and esoteric models as foils. Furthermore, not only do I go for long stretches without talking about messianism, but I am often not even talking about Judaism at all. As readers of this blog can appreciate, this is the product of my rather eclectic manner of thinking. It certainly did not help matters that I was forced by my advisor to attempt to write large-scale history, including Christianity and Islam. In essence, instead of making sure I stayed focused on something narrow, he pushed me to follow my tendencies that were most likely to cause me to fail.  

In the military model, your religion is obviously right because the armies of your religion are crossing borders and defeating other religions. Imagine that you are an early medieval Muslim. It is obvious to you that Islam is true. How could a band of tribesmen from Arabia have defeated both the Byzantine and the Sasanian Empire, conquered the Near East, and marched all the way to Spain unless this was the will of Allah? Obviously, Allah wanted to spread pure monotheism so he used his beloved Arab people, who were the first to embrace the divine teachings of the prophet Mohammed, to accomplish this. The promise of a heavenly reward for Muslims can already be glimpsed by the fact that Arab Muslims, in this world, have achieved such political power. If you want to be rewarded in this world and in the next, you need to become a Muslim. On the flip side, much of the story of modern Islamic thought comes down to the question of how is it that Islam stopped being successful. This only serves to underscore how important Islam's early military success was to its self-understanding.  

Behind the armies leading the military model to victory, lies a political entity such as a state. The religion’s political sponsor will come to dominate other religions and their respective political sponsors, presumably through military means, causing competing religions and politics to fall away. In the ancient world, this was understood in very literal terms with the god (or gods) of one people defeating a rival god.  Underlying this worldview is a sense of being on the right side of history. Even if the hoped for final victory has yet to come, the political victories scored by the religion, even small ones, indicate the inevitability of that victory. Military model religions have little need to engage in apologetics or even develop a complex theology. The argument for the religion is the observable fact of the existence of the community of the faithful and its political success. Such a religion contains little in the way of universalizing ethics. On the contrary, its only concern is the advancement of the community so that it dominates all others, regardless of how unjust such a state of affairs may be. 

It is important not to overemphasize the role of physical violence in the military model. The military model of religion might also be labeled the community model in that it starts from the perspective of a community and not, as we shall see with the missionary and esoteric models, individuals. It should be understood that the military model does not have to use a literal threat of force to achieve its aims. On the contrary, it is most powerful in the form of a warm surrounding community, full of friends and family. There is a close connection between the coercive power of overwhelming armed might and that of a community in that overwhelming armed might in its most extreme forms (like in the relationship between a state and an individual) can paradoxically appear as if no force is being used.  Such force is so obvious that it can pass unmentioned and become part of the unchallengeable reality surrounding a person. Thus, the person being subject to such force may come to “willingly” comply out of the sense that this is the only “reasonable” option. It is hard to distinguish it, particularly for those subject to it, from the soft pressure of the social expectations on the part of a surrounding community. Thus, community pressure and the threat of physical force merge together. The most powerful sorts of communities will be established states with the ability to exert social pressure that is not so incidentally backed by physical force.    

Considering that the military model works best when it can use a perceived sense of reality rather than physical force, its chief weapon is ritual. This creates a perceived sense of communal reality in which a body of individuals performs the same action.  The ritual act allows the community to conquer physical space. By integrating ritual into the calendar, the community can also conquer time and extend itself to both past and future generations.  In this sense, the ritual community consists not only of those living in the present but also of past generations, who performed these same rituals and passed on their traditions to the present. Of particular importance here are rituals performed for the sake of the dead. Beyond possibly aiding those who have passed to the next world and gaining their aid in return, rituals for the dead strengthen the sense of the community existing through time. Similarly, rites of passage use ritual to extend the community into the future as a new generation embraces the identity of the community. 

Ritual also serves a practical purpose of gaining the aid of supernatural beings. Thus, military model religions tend have strong magic components, offering the direct physical aid of a god, as opposed to ethical religions, in which a god offers moral teachings that allow one to live a better life. There is something distinctly amoral about magic in that its sole purpose is to subvert normal cause and effect. Thus, it allows the practitioner to gain things they did not work to earn and have no just claim to. As we shall see with the missionary and esoteric models, one of the primary criticisms of the military model, in addition to the fact that it lacks theological depth, is that it does not encourage ethical behavior. As such, military model believers can be attacked for caring little about god or man. 

A classic book that I recently read that does a fantastic job of encapsulating what is essentially the military model is Eamon Duffy's Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England, 1400-1580. The first part of the book gets us into the lived experience of late medieval Catholics in England before this world was destroyed by the English Reformation. Catholicism was built into people's daily lives. For example, the calendar was dominated by saints' days and the cycle of Jesus' birth and passion. While I am skeptical about Duffy's claims as to how well lay Englishmen actually understood the particulars of the Catholic theology that lay behind such holy days, Duffy is a valuable voice in that he is sympathetic to popular religion. It is easy even for scholars who are personally religious to look down on such religion as superstition. (I am often guilty of this myself.) As intellectuals, we are going to be naturally inclined toward the missionary and esoteric models. These are intellectual models of religion. Their criticisms of the military model, essentially any popular religion, are going to be our criticisms. As such, instead of simply pointing out the obvious problems with the military model, our job becomes to understand why the military model has not simply been conquered by its critics. On the contrary, as we shall see, it is the military model that generally manages to convert its critics.