Three related terms are often used in religious studies: polemics, apologetics, and neutral exposition.
Polemics are strong critical attacks about someone or something; in religious theology, polemics often take the form of attacks against religious institutions or religious doctrines. Apologetics is the religious discipline of defending religious doctrines through systematic argumentation and discourse, often in response to polemic criticisms. Neutral exposition seeks to describe and explain doctrines and facets of religion without engaging in either polemics or apologetics; neither praising nor criticizing.
While religious polemics are the most used sense of the word, polemicists exist in every academic discipline and in the lay world as well. The problem of polemics is threefold. First, due to the difficulty of proving a negative, those who wish to attack a person or an institution can make up virtually any claim they please. Second, that even if strong evidence is made against the criticisms and false claims the charge will never die; it will resurrect in new forms for all eternity. Lastly, polemics assumes a “guilty until proven innocent” mentality, a unique position at odds with the burden of proof required of apologetic claims and even neutral exposition.
Consider, for example, the claims that hidden in the Vatican
Apostolic Archives, the Catholic Church has information that proves the
marriage of Jesus Christ. In order to disprove this claim, and say with surety
that “the Catholic Church contains no documents providing evidence of the
marriage of Jesus” one would have to read the contents of the archives, which
contain 75,000
codices and over one million books in more than a dozen languages. This, of
course, is not possible. Since the Catholic Church has made no such statement, (critics
would not believe this statement even if it were made) the polemicists continue reciting their baseless claim. By baseless I do not mean that it is not
within the realm of possibility, merely that the polemicist has not provided
any evidence that it is indeed true.
Consider, as yet another example, the claims, commonly
circulated orally throughout the U.S. Army, that Audie Murphy, who is
considered the most decorated war veteran in American history, was a pedophile
and a child molester.
When I first heard this claim, I decided to research it. I
found that the origin of this polemic was not historical records or court documents
from during Murphy’s life, but a
Reddit post from Aug 2015. We know for a fact that the accuser is a mature
academic, for when asked to provide sources for his claim, he invited the
requestor to participate in sexual impropriety himself. This claim of pedophilia
has been repeated across social media platforms, and within the ranks of the U.S.
Army since then, but with no substantiating evidence.
In 1997, a man named Audie Murphy was convicted of sex
offenses and is currently registered in Buffalo, New York. This may be the
origin of the confusion, but clearly the man convicted of sex charges in the ‘90s—who
is black (the historic Audie Murphy was white) and was born in 1968 (historic
Murphy was born in 1925)—is not the same Audie Murphy who fought in World War
II.
I have pointed out to several soldiers who have repeated the
spurious claim against Murphy the origin of the falsehood (Reddit) and the
existence of the Buffalo man, but even after stating this, I have met with
resistance. It seems that psychologically we don’t want to let go of negative
rumors, even if there is every reason to doubt them.
Or let us consider the case of a hypothetical historic
figure, John Doe, is accused of sexual impropriety with a woman. If the public
is convinced that this occurred merely because accusations were levied, nothing
short of sworn affidavits from every woman the man ever met in his life would
sway their opinion and prove his innocence. Even this some would reject; they
would find some motive for the women to falsify their statements.
Biographers and historians will never be able to erase the blemish on John Doe’s
name, no matter how much they emphasize that there is no evidence for this
charge whatsoever.
Think of the second problem of polemics: that the charge
will never die. In regards to Audie Murphy, a dedicated team could spend vast
amounts of energy commenting on every derogatory social media post or comment;
an awareness campaign could be made to educate Army leadership and clear Murphy’s
name; and these leaders could ensure to correct and inform every soldier they
heard repeating the charge of pedophilia; and yet, a century from now there
will be individuals who repeat and believe this false accusation that now
taints the name of an American war hero. The polemicist knows this. He need
only make something up (in an obscure Reddit thread no less) and not only is
the damage done, but it is in many ways irreversible.
This brings us to the third issue with polemics. With
polemics, there's no presumption of innocence. It is guilty until proven
innocent, and because it is virtually impossible to prove a negative, the
accused remain guilty indefinitely. In practice, our mentality should be the
exact opposite. The burden of proof should be upon the accuser, not those who
seek to defend the accused. This is not to mindlessly protect historic figures to promote hero worship, it is to defend the truth.
This standard is not unique to polemics. Apologetics and
even neutral exposition place the burden of proof of a claim on the one who
makes it. A historian who wishes to claim that the acts of Abraham Lincoln were
essential to winning the Civil War (an apologetic position) must demonstrate
through the evidence available that his interpretation is correct.
A researcher wishing to demonstrate that the 10th
Mountain Division was issued M1 Garand rifles during World War II (a neutral exposition) must also demonstrate through the sources
that this is the case. Why is it then that only in the case of polemics is no
evidence, no sources, and no credibility required of the claimant?
Polemics have their place. Pragmatic historians from Thucydides
to today have argued that history is most useful when we can draw from this “might
store of experience”[1]
so “that if ever again men find themselves in a like situation they may be able…from
the consideration of the records of the past to handle rightly what now
confronts them.”[2]
How can we learn from the mistakes of our forebears if we do not know or believe
that they made any mistakes? In the application of history for making wise choices today,
polemics are essential.
However, when elaborating on the flaws or vices of historic
figures or groups when such detail is unjustified given the purpose or scope of a historic work or lesson, is unfair.[3]
For example, President Kennedy’s multiple extra-marital relationships are
outside the scope of a middle school lesson on the Civil Rights Movement and
are thus unjustified polemics. Such information is useful, however, in a middle
school government course’s discussion on if voters should weigh private actions when considering individuals for public office. And yet
many new left historians go out of their way when it comes to fault-finding,
when it is clearly outside the scope of their work. As Plutarch remarked “such
a writer is clearly lacking in good will; he is apparently deriving pleasure
out of another man’s misfortune by making a clever story out of it” and “delights
in speaking ill of people.”[4]
Polemics, especially when paired with “-isms” and other such
poorly defined labels, have the detrimental effect of making one assume we have
nothing to learn from the past. We cannot learn from Peter because he thrice
denied Christ. We cannot learn from Paul because he once opposed the Christian
movement. We cannot learn from the writings of Jefferson because he was a slave
owner. We cannot learn from the deeds of Columbus because he was a colonizer. We
cannot learn from the accomplishments of Jesse Owens because he was unfaithful to
his wife. A colleague, who learned that I was reading Douglas Southall Freeman’s
four-volume biography of Robert E. Lee remarked incredulously, “why would you
ever want to read about him?” To my coworker, nothing could possibly be
learned from a man as flawed as Lee. Nothing is further from the truth.
To quote law professor Adam
J McLeod’s address to his students, “when we discussed the Code of
Hammurabi, some of you wanted to slap labels on what you read which enabled you
to convince yourself that you had nothing to learn from ancient Babylonians.
But when we peeled off the labels and looked carefully inside the box, we
discovered several surprising truths. In fact, we discovered that Hammurabi
still has a lot to teach us today.”
When students hear that this or that historic figure is “racist”
or “classist” they immediately dismiss everything that figure has ever
accomplished. We can learn from the virtues of men of women, even if these same
individuals are also riddled with vices.
Ernest Shackleton may have had an ego, been irritably
defensive when his decisions were questioned and had an uncompromising “my way
or the high way” mentality; but on his Endurance expedition, he also was
last to sleep and last to eat, first to wake and first to begin the day’s work,
sacrificed constantly for the men he led, and when all was done and his men
were safely back in England, was the first to die from strain—added strain that
he had selflessly undergone in order to serve and save his men from freezing in
the Antarctic.
And this is the fourth and final problem of polemic. Polemicists
forget that even grossly flawed people can teach us much through their virtues.
Let us be careful that in our rush to “correct history” we are not on a witch
hunt. Let us ensure that we do not destroy our ability to learn from individuals,
who, however flawed, gave much that we can now benefit from to this day.
[1]
Diodorus of Sicily, Library of History, trans. C. H. Oldfather. Loeb Classical Library. 1:5-25 and 29-35; as quoted in Donald R. Kelly, Versions of
History: From Antiquity to the Enlightenment, (Binghamton, New York: Vail-Ballou
Press, 1991), 50.
[2]
Plutarch, On the Malice of Herodotus, trans. Lionel Pearson and F.H.
Sandbach. Loeb Classic Library. 11:9, 11-13, 15, 17, 19, and 21; as quoted in
Donald R. Kelly, Versions of History: From Antiquity to the Enlightenment,
(Binghamton, New York: Vail-Ballou Press, 1991), 66.
[3]
C. Bellan McCullagh, “Bias in Historical Description, Interpretation, and
Explanation,” History and Theory 39, no. 1 (2000): 39–66.
[4]
Plutarch, as quoted in Donald R. Kelly, Versions of History, 65.
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